Say what you want about the Democratic Party – go on, say it – but don’t deny that it’s a rainbow.  Those of us who support its platform, which includes basics like Rebuilding Middle Class Security, Protecting Rights and Freedoms, and Disrupting, Dismantling, and Defeating Al-Qaeda, should be especially proud of its diversity.  While CNN did their very best to find an ethnic assortment among the crowd at the GOP convention last week in Tampa – and the GOP brass trotted out their up-and-coming minority stars like Mia Love (yawn) – those special few who made it on camera were generally surrounded by a lot of old and older white guys.  Last night in Charlotte, it was the opposite.  According to CNN’s coverage, we were the party of brown, black, and lesbians.  Good for us.

And yet, I’m white.  For all intents and purposes, my life has been privileged – not Willard ‘Mitt’ Romney-privileged.  I was not named after hotel magnate J. Willard Marriot because he was not my father’s best friend.  My dad’s best friend was a foul-mouthed comedian from Chagrin Falls, Ohio.  Honestly, as the youngest of five, I don’t know why my parents called me JoAnn if they weren’t calling me Jeanine (one of my sisters) or Bronwyn (our Irish Setter).  I digress.  My point?  I’m white.  I’m heterosexual.  I had a good early education.  Opportunity was there if I chose to seize it.  But I also grew up in Los Angeles where Democrats are bred, where a belief in individual freedom is paramount and equal to an understanding that many Americans need a helping hand to experience and embrace those freedoms.  I was brought up to believe that I don’t get to grab the brass ring and then not pass it around for others to hold.

We in California share a border with Mexico that doesn’t make us operate out of fear and distrust.  We know that Latinos will soon surpass whites to make up the largest ethnic group in the state and so we choose to work together because we’re not idiots.  Legislation like The Dream Act is common sense compassion to us.

On the issue of abortion, everyone I know wishes there were less of them.  We also believe that contraceptive education provided by, among others, Planned Parenthood (along with breast exams and pap smears) is crucial.  We also believe in the freedom to choose.

We’ve educated ourselves to know that giving millionaires and billionaires more money will not create more jobs.  Any talk about continuing the Bush tax cuts for the wealthy and then increasing the amount of those cuts is absurd.  This, from the Congressional Budget Office:

Deferring the scheduled increases in tax rates in 2011 would help some businesses as well as households. In particular, it would keep lower tax rates in place in that year for businesses that do not pay the corporate income tax (the pass-through entities such as sole proprietorships, partnerships, S corporations, and limited liability companies). However, increasing the after-tax income of businesses typically does not create much incentive for them to hire more workers in order to produce more, because production depends principally on their ability to sell their products. [CBO, January 2010]

We’re not all tree huggers here in the Golden State, nor do we all breakfast on granola and yogurt.  But we believe in science and therefore global warming and think that environmental regulations are a good idea and not a job killer.  In fact, we believe the pursuit of clean energy will ultimately create more jobs nationwide.  Oh, and our grandchildren might appreciate our efforts to look at the long game so that the air they breathe, the food they eat, the water they drink, and the cars they drive won’t kill them prematurely.  There’s that.

And there’s a whole lot more.  San Antonio’s mayor, Julian Castro (introduced by his twin brother), said it last night, forcefully and passionately.  Massachusetts’ Governor Deval Patrick was even more impressive (and should run for president himself someday).  But the night belonged to Michelle Obama.  She didn’t talk down to me and for that, thank you.  She reminded us that the problems this country faced four years ago would not be solved overnight or even in one term but that we had to keep on working.  And then she made me cry.  Watch the last five minutes of her speech and then think about politics, about how we vote, and how we want to answer to our children about our behavior, our conviction, and our integrity.

Some of the most gracious, altruistic people I know are Republicans.  I can’t tell you why because I don’t understand myself.  Many of them voted for Obama in 2008 but now they’re back in front of Romney and Ryan and getting sucked into the hysteria and lies – the biggest of which is ‘trickle-down’ or ‘supply side’ economics.  Believe me, Democrats want everyone to pick themselves up by their bootstraps.  We don’t want more government simply for the sake of more government.  We want to continue to see people go back to work and buy houses that they can afford.  We want Wall Street to succeed, just not at the expense of the middle class.  We want everyone to pay their fair share.

Where was I?  Oh yeah – the rainbow that is the Democratic party.  I’m white and though I may be better represented in the GOP, I’m much more comfortable with a mix, with what America really looks like.  You know things are changing when a Kennedy stands out among his fellow speakers.  So good on us.  Bill Clinton speaks tonight.

One last note: as a former runner of marathons, no one makes a mistake about running one in under three hours.  Have I mentioned how much I dislike Paul Ryan?  Use this calculator to see how fast you could run 26.2 miles in his world.

We painted Goldie’s room a deep purple this week.  Thought you should know.  With the rich brown low-shag carpeting she has, it feels like a den of iniquity.  Is that inappropriate for a 13-year-old?

When the husband told me Paul Ryan was going to be Mitt’s running mate, my response was, “He has sparkly eyes.”  It’s the first thing you notice about the guy.  My next thought was, “Ugh.”  Ryan represents the extreme fiscal conservatives who, frankly, make no sense to me.  Any budget that ultimately gives more tax breaks to the wealthy, who already have more than they can spend and are not creating jobs, under the belief that with a few dollars more they will create more jobs, is absurd.  Ryan is an ideologue who believes that what’s wrong with America is the individual not taking personal responsibility for his life, as if every poor person is a shiftless bastard.  Actually Paul, lots of poor people are working their asses off at jobs most of us don’t want.  Many have fallen on hard times because of a recession you may have heard about, brought on by Wall Street shenanigans, and so middle managers are now delivering pizza to make ends meet.  Old people, those blood-sucking pests, might need Medicare now more than ever because they lost retirement savings in – you guessed it – that recession.  Paul Ryan’s voucher idea – having seniors buy their own insurance – is a misstep.  Anyhow, Romney and Ryan represent the Republican ideal right now – less government, and conservative social ideas.  I’m all for less government, in theory, if it doesn’t make things worse for the middle and lower classes, but we’re not out of this recession yet so I don’t see how their timing works.  As for right-wing ‘values’, to hell with the Republican ticket.  I’d likely say that about whoever they were because I’m simply on a different page regarding same-sex marriage, abortion, contraceptive rights, etc.  We breed liberals here in socio-economically diverse Los Angeles.

The Olympics are over and I’m still in a funk, three days after the disappointing (where was Adele?) closing ceremonies.  I already miss Missy and Misty May.  Happy to say goodbye for now to Usain Bolt (shut up already).  Oscar Pistorius was mind-blowing.  Think about it: “They’ve amputated my legs.  I think I’ll become an Olympic runner.”  The human spirit is alive and well and London displayed it for two glorious weeks.  I sat with my children nearly every night to watch, bonding over sports we play and sports we’d barely heard of.  Looking forward to Rio in four years.

The girls, naturally, are hovering, which has been the story of my summer.  If I don’t get off the computer RIGHT NOW, something terrible might happen and so – until the next time I get a moment to hide away and write…

If you knew me years ago, you’d know that on Wednesday nights you risked incurring my wrath by calling between the hours of nine and ten at night.  “The West Wing” was on and it was my drug of choice.  When the girls were babies, they’d occasionally have trouble sleeping.  If the husband was around, it was his job to make them invisible during that time.  If I was single parenting, I’d let them cry until they started rattling the sides of their cribs like unjustly accused prisoners in a jail cell, then curse my existence as a mother and tend to them.  I’m not an idiot so of course I starting taping “The West Wing” after fearing continued interruptions, but I was resentful.  Taping it meant I couldn’t watch it right away and when you’re addicted to anything, delayed gratification isn’t part of the gig.  When TiVo came around, it changed our lives.  My stress level was reduced to historic lows and remains there to this day.  I watch television when I want to, how I want to.  What more can we ask of technology?  I digress.

“The West Wing” was the best television in the history of the medium (my opinion, somewhat amplified due to a second cup of strong coffee) because it was Aaron Sorkin.  When it went away, I died a little.  Then came “Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip”, Sorkin’s take on “Saturday Night Live”, which was fun but not political.  Three weeks ago, “The Newsroom” debuted on HBO and, for me, it felt like the beginning of the football season and the Jets were favored to win the Super Bowl.  Episode 1 did not disappoint.  Sorkin’s dialogue was medicinal.  I was deeply concerned, however, after a poorly directed Episode 2 forced me to listen to clever-clever dialogue delivered in unnatural rhythms.  When the husband told me he’d heard at work that Episode 3 was a winner, I made a beeline for the television and let out an enormous sigh of relief when it was apparent Sorkin did, in fact, want to inspire us all to change the world with his take on Congress and the Tea Party.  I wept the other night after Episode 4 when Sorkin belittled viewers – in a kind and gentle way – for their compulsion with Snooki and the Kardashians.  (I have no such compulsion but am oddly interested in Tom and Katie’s five-minute divorce.)  People, watch this show.  It’s good for all of us.  Let’s question the status quo, not only regarding the 24-hour news cycle that too often leads us astray, but also about Washington and how we allow our elected leaders to muck it all up.  “The Newsroom”, HBO, 9pm.  (It repeats about seventy-three times during the week.)

A few other items in short order:

Are Gotye’s “Somebody That I Used to Know” and Fun’s “We Are Young” the only two songs that were written and recorded in the last three months?  Because they are the only two songs playing on the radio when I’m in the car.

We’ve been to the beach several times in the past few weeks and the Pacific Ocean in Santa Monica feels as if a polar ice cap just melted nearby.  The water here is always chilly but this is wetsuit cold.  I hear wetsuits can be slimming.

Monday night, we went to see the US Women’s volleyball team play Bulgaria before they head to London on Friday for the Olympics.  The team is amazing, the women are all six feet tall and above (except maybe the libero) and the star is an opposite attacker from Texas named Destinee Hooker.  I wish that were not her name.

Tina Fey’s Bossypants is the funniest book I’ve ever read (first week of summer).  Lots of Candles, Plenty of Cake by Anna Quindlen (second week of summer) is not funny and better suited to women approaching sixty with grown children, but someone handed it to me so I read it.  I’ve been a fan of Quindlen since her New York Times “Life in the 30s” column back in the 80s and she’s a terrific writer but I didn’t need this book right now.  Third week of summer, I started Swamplandia! by Karen Russell and simply cannot get into it, though I’m determined to finish it before I move on.  I know I ask this a lot, but what are you reading?

We put in a new lawn months ago.  The dogs peed on it and ruined it in short order.  I fixed it, they ruined it again.  Nowhere, and I mean NOWHERE, is there a solution for this problem.  Tomato juice in their food is a fallacy.  It’s as much Jack’s fault as Shelby’s (our girl dog).  Like that commercial from long ago – They can send a man to the moon but they can’t…come up with a grass that can withstand dog urine?  Seriously?  Sure, they could be trained to pee in one spot but who’s gonna train them?  Me?  Don’t think so.

The Olympics begin next Friday, July 27^th, with the opening ceremonies in London.  However, soccer fans should know that the preliminary rounds begin next Wednesday.  The US women play France and NBC is providing coverage on a dedicated NBC Olympic soccer channel.  Check with your provider for details.  I’m an Olympic addict.  If Aaron Sorkin wrote the Olympics, I’d die of an overdose.

Daily Cup of Jo has been scant during these summer weeks and as much as you all miss me, I miss you more.  Promise to try and write more if you promise to tell me how to fix my lawn.

My friend Christy was complaining the other day about fair-weathered hockey fans.  In Los Angeles there must be millions of us, mostly because we didn’t grow up playing the sport (we live beneath palm trees, for chrissake) and only became interested when Wayne Gretzky joined the home team in 1988.  Back then, it suddenly became cool (cold actually) to attend hockey games and talk about checking, face-offs, power plays, and slashing.  After The Great One left, ice hockey ennui set in again here in the Land of Shallow People.

You know I’m a sports fan.  When I lived in New York, I attended a few Islanders’ games and appreciated what the athletes were doing in the rink.  I didn’t quite understand why jerseys were removed before a knock-down, drag-out fight but whatever.  I’m just impressed by anyone who can move around a sheet of ice like hockey players do.  The pads they wear and the uniforms that come over them are unfortunate (everything is left up to the imagination) and even though I know it’s not their job to be sexy, the NHL might gain more viewers if us ladies could recognize the players’ back ends a little more distinctly.  Just sayin’.

All of this is to mention that tonight at 5pm PST, our Kings take on the New Jersey Devils in New Jersey to open the Stanley Cup Finals.  That’s right – the FINALS.  I may be a fair-weathered hockey fan but I’m most certainly a home team supporter and I’ll be cheering with the best of ‘em.  I’ll particularly be keeping my eye on Jonathan Quick, the goaltender, because he’s kinda cute (I think he’s twelve) and I always have a soft spot in my heart for that position, whether it’s in the rink or out on the pitch.

On NBC.

While my Daily Cup of Jo followers may not count in the millions just yet, you’re a loyal bunch and so, every now and then, I feel like I owe you an apology and an excuse for being away.  In the matter of today, I also wanted to defend myself against critics who wonder why I’m just now getting around to writing about the Oscars.

I have a bad back.  Like Lady Gaga, I was born this way and occasionally my spine gets tired of holding me up straight.  Such was the case Monday morning, so after a few chiropractor visits and plenty of time flat on the floor, I can now perch myself in front of the computer for longer than five minutes and share with you my thoughts.  Ready?

I don’t care if young people know who Billy Crystal is or not.  I’m not an ABC executive and so ratings don’t matter either.  I only care that the Academy Awards be entertaining enough to sustain the party I have every year with the same ten people, competing seriously to win the $70 (or so) pot at the end of the show.  This year, eighteen correct answers was enough to take home the loot and, like the Super Bowl weeks before, it came down to the last play/category.  I was happy to see Best Picture go to “The Artist”.

Who I really want to talk about though is Meryl Streep.  Let me begin by saying I thought Viola Davis would and should win for Best Actress.  “The Help” was such a good movie, in large part because of Davis’ complicated performance as Aibileen, the maid who continually found the courage to make a difference – “You is kind.  You is smart.  You is important.”  Davis didn’t win and I’m certain Streep felt a little bit bad about that, “…but whatever,” as Streep said during her very funny, down-to-earth acceptance speech.  These prizes they give out are not based on an algorithm.  The fastest actress doesn’t win, nor does the one who jumps the highest.  It’s all subjective and therefore difficult to take too, too seriously.  Anyway, Streep can hardly be considered unworthy.

You see, I’m Meryl’s biggest fan.  I know others say that but they don’t know what they’re talking about.  I discovered Meryl.  When I was sixteen, I watched the miniseries “Holocaust” and was immediately drawn to this blonde German (I thought) actress.  I told my parents they had to come watch with me because in addition to Streep, the show itself was powerful and I felt as if I needed witnesses.  We had a video recorder then and I’d watch Streep over and over, curious of the hold she had over me.  I’ll admit it grew into an obsession.  I didn’t stalk her, but upon moving to New York City a few years later, I immediately went to Soho to walk around because I knew she had a loft there.  In addition to “The Deer Hunter” and “The Seduction of Joe Tynan”, I discovered small television appearances of hers, and bought a ticket to a lecture series she was participating in at Symphony Space on 94^th and Broadway.  I saw “Kramer vs. Kramer” three times and thought her performance in “Sophie’s Choice” would go down as one of the greatest we’d ever witness in our lifetime.

Her Karen Silkwood and Karen Blixen, in “Silkwood” and “Out of Africa”, respectively, were layered portraitures of real life women put into context by her.  She played Nora Ephron (the character was named Rachel Samstat) in “Heartburn” to such an honest and comical extent that we were entertained even when the movie wasn’t.  In fact, the comedies came in rapid succession – “She Devil”, “Postcards From the Edge”, “Defending Your Life”, and “Death Becomes Her” – allowing us to think of her as a funny lady, not just one who could do accents.  Charles McNulty is entitled to his opinion, complaining that her technical virtuosity often results in soulless characterizations, but of course, I disagree.  We don’t exhibit our inner lives in obvious ways.  We externalize our grief, fear, joy, and confusion with subtle gestures.  It’s trying to hold back tears rather than letting the damn burst.  McNulty must not have appreciated the scene at Miranda Priestley’s home in “The Devil Wears Prada” when Ann Hathaway inadvertently catches her boss in a painful, private exchange with her husband, or when Streep’s character is separating eggs in “The Hours”, or in any of a dozen different scenes in 1984’s “Falling in Love” as a married woman who finds joy inseparable from guilt when she begins an affair with Robert DeNiro.  Streep may have ‘imitated’ Julia Child in “Julie & Julia” but in doing so, she charmed us to no end.

In “Iron Lady”, Streep’s Oscar moment comes after an early scene in the movie.  She’s sitting on the bed with her daughter who gently pulls her back from a senile moment and reminds her of the present reality.  She’s Margaret Thatcher, no longer the prime minister of England, widowed and just this side of daft.  After her daughter leaves the room, Thatcher twists up her face, trying to hold back the enormity of sadness she’s feeling.  Those few seconds of quiet acting gave me permission once again to deem Streep brilliant and not apologize for gushing.

Go back and watch “Sophie’s Choice”.  Like Jodie Foster in “The Accused” and Charlize Theron in “Monster”, it’s a performance that needs to be experienced rather than described.  Since then, Streep has continued to give us movie star performances on the big screen and small (“Angels in America” is a must-see), portrayals of individuals both flawed and accomplished, famous and mundane, and always, always worth watching.  She’s remained at the forefront of her profession because she’s that good.

That’s not my final word on Meryl Streep but I need to wrap this up.  Some other Oscar thoughts?

Emma Stone is adorable.

Those Bridesmaids continue to make me laugh.

Billy Crystal adds class to the show.  I take no issue with the old guard and thought Crystal was his usual funny, charming self.  (I love Jon Stewart and think James Franco is a fine actor, but they’re not Academy Award show hosts.)

I still can’t believe “Hugo” was a Martin Scorsese film.

George Clooney and Colin Firth are very handsome.

Tell me again why Woody Allen won’t accept his well-deserved Oscars?

What does Angelina Jolie eat in a day?

I cannot do those things that the Cirque de Soleil performers do.

Uggie the dog.

Didn’t think I was going to like the “Wizard of Oz” focus group bit, but then realized it was the Christopher Guest gang.  Hilarious!

In Memoriam.  “I thought he/she was already dead,” was a familiar refrain at our party.

I wonder what this year in movies will bring us?  Undoubtedly, another stellar turn by Streep (“August: Osage County”).  I’m hoping they’ll let Billy host again.  I didn’t pick enough winners on Sunday to win the Oscar pool, so I’m going to try harder to see those documentary shorts.  Doesn’t it always come down to the documentary short?