Good day, Plan Bee-ers.
First and foremost, please give a listen to this week’s Choice Words, in which I am soothed and frankly coddled, by the dulcet tones of actor, writer, woodworker, and Gentlemen-At-Large, Nick Offerman. What a gracious, funny, and intelligent human being. He had a lot to say, and it was a damn joy to hear him say it. Nick stars in the brand new movie Civil War, which opens this weekend, and to which I shall be buying tickets, because it looks scary and I like that. Let’s just say that these two Nick Offerman situations seem to have…opposite vibes.
In any case, although I thoroughly enjoyed basking in the gentle warmth of a thoughtful conversation, the M & M’s in my hot popcorn are calling and I need to answer the call of a terrifying dystopian movie.
Now listen, we went away. We took the kids to Miami Beach for spring break and friends, I want to tell you that we have not been there in a very long time. I recall, years ago taking the kids when they were babies, and having that vacation accidentally coincide with the Ultra Music Festival. It was fine. It was colorful. Everyone was *kind of* dressed like this on the beach, and I am not exaggerating.
But like, with bare legs and a banana hammock.
This time I carefully planned everything, and spent many days agonizing over hotel choices, understanding that we would be landing directly in the middle of spring break, but believing in my heart that we could avoid most of the chaos. Ultimately, I landed on a hotel that had been recommended to me by many of my friends with kids. I mean, I do not party. I like serenity. Normally I am horizontal and into a book by 9:30, but ideally I’m hunkering down as early as the late 8’s. When I go to the beach, I’m looking to read, maybe nap. Float in the water a bit. Be covered by various light fabrics.
We pulled up to the hotel which was…ominously large–maybe, larger than four cruise ships awkwardly jammed together McMansion style? Then all of a sudden it came back to me in a flood of memories. Yes, certainly, I have had many friends who have stayed at this hotel…FOR BACHELORETTE PARTIES. For Wine Weekends. For Getting Grooves Back, etc.
OOPS.
YES.
Red flag #1: photos of the Rat Pack everywhere.
Red flag #2: two competing outdoor DJs who started their sets at *checks watch* 7 o'clock in the morning.
Red Flag #3: every single thing about the hotel and its environs.
At one point, we were walking along the path, and we weren’t sure how far away from the hotel we had wandered. The distant sound of DMX and an air horn beckoned, letting us know that we were close.
Here is a sentence my daughter said to me. “I think a lot of people have their thongs on backwards.”
Anyway, on the beach, sweating in my sassy ONE PIECE, with my flowy caftan, I personally gave Maria Von Trapp in her curtains dirndl, and I do not care.
Anyway: Florida.
Of course I spent the whole time Zillowing, and was intrigued to learn that this thirty seven million dollar home has…a nice fridge?
GOD I live for this type of cockadoodie real estate listing.
In any case, I am back now, and charging forth into the headwinds of reality.
There are so many stories I wish I could go out into the field and film right now. For instance I would love to do a story about disinformation campaigns that specifically target Spanish speaking social media users, in the lead up to the election. Every once in a while this story pops up, but it never seems to grip people. It’s huge, and it’s consequential, and who is doing what, and oh boy. WHO WANTS TO MAKE SOME TIGHT, SHAREABLE, SCHOOLHOUSE ROCK STYLE MEDIA LITERACY PROGRAMMING WITH ME???
*pause*
*pause*
OK well what about this…
Because I had the pleasure of interviewing Cecily Strong at the Planned Parenthood of Southern New England spring luncheon, where I am now a fledgling board member. It was an incredible event, supercharged by the solar eclipse happening almost simultaneously. One million dollars was raised for this Planned Parenthood affiliate and their endless quest to provide top notch safety net reproductive healthcare to the fine people of Connecticut and Rhode Island. I left on an absolute cloud of joy, empowerment, and general "we can do this!" glee.
Then as the day progressed, Arizona's Supreme Court regressed, affirming that things were better in 1864, so that's what our health care should reflect? Arizona wasn't even a state until 1863 and glad to know that even then the first order of business was exerting control over women's bodies. HOW is this possible? 1864. This is the Taylor Sheridan show of my deepest nightmares.
This article provides a terrifying breakdown of just how bleak this law was then (and now), including this final paragraph haunting my every waking moment since I read it.
"The Arizona Supreme Court decision Tuesday did not immediately revert the state law on abortion to the standard established in 1864, allowing two weeks for challenges. Should those challenges fail, though, women in Arizona could face criminal punishment for seeking an abortion, in keeping with the mores of a 19th-century society in which parents were allowed to accidentally beat their children to death and 9-year-olds were considered capable of giving consent to sexual encounters."
So, after picking myself and my broken laptop off the floor, I thought. We have two weeks - let's get to work, how can I help - well... That clock is also being manipulated by the state's GOP leaders who refuse to even have a discussion, because they don't like the protestors tenor. ARGHHHHH!
Please remember this is a state with a democratic governor and advocate Senator Captain Mark Kelly - the other senator needs no mention- and it's an absolute BATTLEGROUND. We cannot let another state and domino fall in our right to make decisions for our own bodies.
In other "why is healthcare stuck in rewind?" news, remember syphilis?
Among the MYRIAD of things I am learning in my new board member capacity, I also had the displeasure to learn about the perilous state of STI education in this country. Shocked but not surprised, I guess. I mean what the holy hell is THIS statistic?
WHO WANTS TO MAKE SOME TIGHT, SHAREABLE, SCHOOLHOUSE ROCK STYLE STI AND BODY EDUCATION PROGRAMMING WITH ME??? (Should I just be pitching to Taylor Sheridan?)
Fine.
Then can we at least re-up this story about dentistry?
(DO NOT TELL MY DENTIST)
Or this story, which contains the greatest TikTok thread of my life.
Here is my final offer: the song of the summer. Well, it’s about to be the song of my summer, anyway.
Love to all,
Sam
AZ became a territory in 1863. It wasn't a state until 1912. This ridiculous law was written 48 years before it became a state.
Thanks for the moments of rational thought. I don't see alot these days.