I was recently chatting with a friend of mine, an Air Force captain stationed in the UK. Up until a few months ago, he and I had never discussed politics, but I had always (rightly) assumed that he was a Democrat. After all, he is extremely intelligent and well-educated (not to mention black and from the hood.)

Here’s the horrifying part: he thought that I was a Republican!

Not since I was mistaken for a boy when I was five years old have I been more insulted.

And then I had a frightening thought: Why wouldn’t he think that? To be honest, I “look” like a Republican. My hair and makeup is always neatly done, I have a penchant for buying expensive clothing and I am married to a military officer. Add the fact that my father drinks Budweiser from the can and raised me at country clubs in a red state, and it would appear that there would be no hope of my becoming even slightly left-leaning. If it hadn’t been for my hippie mother, all hope for me would have been lost.

We can usually tell, you know? We can tell by the way people dress, the cars they drive, their professions, their hobbies. Think about this: when was the last time you saw a “W” sticker on a Subaru with a roof rack, or a guy in a North Face jacket tossing his muddy mountain bike into the back of a Hummer?

What’s my point, you ask? Well, it’s not always obvious, and even if it seems to be, you may be wrong. For three years, Rhasaan had assumed that I was a Republican. He loved me despite that, but our friendship has been so much stronger since he figured me out.

The next time you spot a seemingly right-wing guy from Texas with a big ol’ cowboy hat and a pit bull, give him a chance. You never know: he might be on our side.

Unless there’s a Confederate flag in the back of his pickup. Sadly, there’s no hope for that guy.

Apparently God has been speaking to good ol' Pat Robertson again. This time, He told Pat that the Pacific Northwest should expect some pretty significant storms in 2006, including the possibility of a tsunami. Hmmm . . . .

Here's my question: How come God only seems to talk to Pat Robertson? Why can't He talk to Wes Clark, Howard Dean or Evan Bayh?

Another query: Do you think that God is pissed off that Patty Boy is sharing their secrets? Obviously, the Lord wants Pat to know things that no one else should know, and he has been spilling his guts to us for years! If I were God, I would be pissed.

At the risk of angering the Big Guy, I'm going to share MY little secret that He whispered in my ear the other day: an earthquake will soon open up a hole underneath the 700 Club set, swallowing Pat Robertson in one big gulp. That might be enough to get me to watch his stupid show.

Do you think that God will still talk to Pat when he is hell???

So last night was a rousing success. We had ten people show up, including an infant, which is awesome. Keep on breedin' them democrats, people!!

Thanks to Carly for giving me the idea to start this thing, and thanks to Sean for giving HER the idea. This is definitely something that we need here, and I agree with Sean that it has the potential to be "huge." Make sure you tell all of your like-minded friends to show up the third Thursday of every month at Noble's Diner, 7:00 PM.

I'm new at this "blog" thing, so I have asked Carly to help me out. You can look forward to some very eloquent entries from her- she speaks really good English :)

Have a fabulous weekend, folks, and don't remember to think left!

Peace,
RUTHIE