Vote Vote Vote

It’s almost time to vote.
And the sooner the whole thing is over, the better.
Much like recent ‘votes’, this election is fizzing with emotion and anger and frustration. And so I think that most of us will be glad to see it done and dusted and to get back to normality.
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How you vote is YOUR decision.
How I vote is MY business.
We all have things that we hope for and expect from our candidates, and we all have our own checklists of characteristics and qualities that we want to see.
We all have opinions; strong and valid opinions, but as I have said eleventy billion times, OPINION IS NOT FACT.
For me, it’s simple.
The candidate who stands for the people who live in this country, ALL the people people, not just the freckled few, gets a vote.
The candidate who can voice their opinions with respect for others, and without dictating that anyone who differs in their opinion, is wrong, will get a vote.
The candidate who is knowledgeable and has educated themself on the issues that they will discuss, will get a vote.
The candidate who sees all Irish citizens as equal, regardless of skin colour, physical appearance, profession, ancestry or heritage, will get a vote.
The candidate who recognses that their opinions are ONLY opinions and NOT FACT, and who can tolerate disagreement as a right, will get a vote.
The candidate who stands up for the rights of all, and who I believe will genuinely work towards making things better as much as possible, will get a vote.
I will put a number beside the names of most of the candidate.
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Some, I will leave absolutely blank. Some do not deserve and will never get my vote.
I will not vote for the person who stands up ONLY for themselves and people who they deem to be like them.
I will not vote for the person who uses misinformed, exaggerated language to create hysteria and incorrect scarmongering about issues, just because they are uncomfortable with change.
I will not vote for the person who attacks an alternative opinion, or who demonises people who think differently to them.
I will not vote for the person who preaches to be holier than thou and who yet casts all the stones.
I will not vote for the person who thinks it acceptable to write another candidate’s name on their posters to ridicule and criticise.
I will not vote for the person who is spouting racist, homophobic and quite frankly disgusting vitriol about people in our society.
OUR community.
OUR country.
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Many will argue that “they’re all the same” or “They’re all as bad as each other”.
We live in a country where it is hard to trust those in power. Where “jobs for the boys” and “who your father is” has always had a lot to do with who got what and who climbed which ladder.
But today, we must vote.
We, the people, the public… ALL citizens of Ireland.
Whether you have followed every interview, listened to every debate and read every manifesto, or whether you’ve simply been vaguely aware of the political rhetoric which has overcome our airwaves and twitter feeds for the past few weeks, you still must vote.
Our vote is our voice.
A physical manifestation of our being.
A chance to have our say.
If we do not vote, really, we have no ground to stand on when it comes to complaining or commenting on how things go for the next 4 years.
If you can vote, go vote.🇮🇪
If you know someone who isn’t able to get to the polling station, drive them there.
If you have a young adult at home, get them to the booth. Make sure their voice is heard.
(Let them vote with their own mind and their own heart. Remember that how YOU vote is not necessarily how your child will vote.)
To the candidates who have put themselves out there, (for reasons other than imposing archaic and bigoted opinions on the county), whether or not I agree with your general policies, good luck.
It is not an easy thing to do; to put yourself into the public domain, to open yourself and your family and your entire history up to the scrutiny and criticism of the world, to take on such a challenge.
It is brave and it is honourable, and I salute you.
Here’s to an eventful weekend.😘
As with all democratic events, some will celebrate and some will not. Everyone cannot win (and not everyone deserves to), but we all must use our voice.
Reegardless of the outcome, cheers to the future my Lovelies.
Now, use your voice.
Vote.

I am She’s a Wagon is Roz Mum

Mammy’s jeep is called “Roz”.

I got her the same day I got the part of Roz in our production of 9 to 5 last winter. And so it seemed apt to name her Roz.   Beats Betsy or the yok, doesn’t it?

Roz is very fablis, but mostly, she is fablis because she can talk to me. Roz is like a real life person. If I am in the car on my own, I don’t have to feel lonely.  I just have to press a wee button and say something and I am guaranteed that Rozzie will answer me. She is my friend. She does what she’s told and unlike my minions doesn’t answer me back. Now granted, 80% of the time Roz says things like “Phone not detected” or “I’m sorry. Can you repeat please?”  And because she has an American accent, sometimes she misunderstands my ineloquent Donegalisms and will dial random numbers of people I haven’t spoken to in years.  In fact, one of the first nights I was driving her, I decided to show off to my sister.

“Call Lorr-aine” I ordered, slowly and in my “How-now-brown-cow” voice.  “Calling Laura Aynder…”

“FAAAAAAACK”  Mammy was screaming, frantically hitting the lever to end the call before it began.  The only reason the number Roz was dialling is still on my phone, is to make sure I don’t answer that wagon if she ever rings me. (Name changed obviously! I do not know any wagonish Lauras.)

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And so, I learned to be verrrrrrrrry clear and precise in my instructions to her.

One of the other fablis tricks Roz has is to read messages if they come in while I’m driving.  And so, on Saturday, half way up the dual carriageway, the radio is interrupted by “New Message”.  I get quite excited as I haven’t heard that in a while, and reply “Read Message”.  I don’t often be getting the oul messages anymore, as everyone now uses Snaptwat and Instagranny to communicate. I miss the ould messages so I do.

Message from 087…I don’t know the number. Oooooh the excitement.

“Hi Maaaaar-eeeaaaa.  Japonica* would like toooooo INVITE your Mini-Meeee TO HER Birthday Partay fullstop on Sat next at 3pim in Partywaaruld. I dooooo hope sheeeee can make it.  ex ex Exclamation mark”.

Mammy is instantly regretting hitting play. Not because of the text, but because Mini-Me has now HEARD the message. Let me explain. If she is able to attend a birthday party, I tend to NOT tell her about it until the day before. Because you see if anything were to come up and our plans had to change, I can not be dealing with the apoplectic melt-down that Mini-Me likes to have. Also, it is good parenting practice to have some blackmail/bait for behaviour rectification up one’s sleeve, is it not?

Shit shit shit shit, how shall Mammy get out of this one.

Mini-Me has not responded.  She is sitting quietly.  I’m about to engage with the idea that she hasn’t actually heard the message until I glance in the rear-view mirror and see that her jaw is actually on the floor.

“Oh My GOD Mammy! Did you HEAR that?”

“Hear what pet?” (shit)

“Roz has just invited me to my own birthday party on Saturday!”

“Huh?” (fookity fook…)

“Your friend Roz has just told you that I have to go to my birthday party on Saturday!”

“WHY would you be having a birthday party on Saturday?  It’s not your birthday!”

“But she said “HER” birthday. Maybe I’m having a party for my 6 and 3/4 birthday!” (WTF?)

“You are not 6 and 3/4 and you are not having a birthday party on Saturday.”

“But if it isn’t MY birthday, why are we having a party?”

“We’re NOT having a party…”

“Oh my Pancake Mammy!” (Yes, this is something we say apparently…)  “Is Roz having a party?”

“Roz is a car”

“Yeah, but she’s real.  Sure how would she know about my party if she wasn’t?”

“We aren’t having a party.  Japonica is having a party. Roz is just reading the message from Japonica’s mummy.”

“DOh my GOSH!? Is Roz friends with Japonica’s Mammy too?”

What does Mammy even say to that? And what exactly does she think Roz is? Does she think I carry a little Gollumesque little American woman around under the bonnet?

I don’t by the way, but I also am trusting Roz less and less.  I’m foreseeing some I-robot shit going down some evening, where I decide I’m going one place, and Roz decides I’m not.

Now, to delete some numbers off my phone!