Mrs Morrison's Hotel

The 100% personal official blog for Patricia Kennealy Morrison, author, Celtic priestess, retired rock critic, wife of Jim

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Location: New York, New York, United States

I was, wait, sorry, that's "David Copperfield". Anyway, I was born in Brooklyn, grew up on Long Island, went to school in upstate NY and came straight back to Manhattan to live. Never lived anywhere else. Never wanted to. Got a job as a rock journalist, in the course of which I met and married a rock star (yeah, yeah, conflict of interest, who cares). Became a priestess in a Celtic Pagan tradition, and (based on sheer longevity) one of the most senior Witches around. Began writing my Keltiad series. Wrote a memoir of my time with my beloved consort (Strange Days: My Life With and Without Jim Morrison). See Favorite Books below for a big announcement...The Rennie Stride Mysteries. "There is no trick or cunning, no art or recipe, by which you can have in your writing that which you do not possess in yourself." ---Walt Whitman (Also @ and

Thursday, January 22, 2009

National Woodstock

People hugging, singing, laughing, crying. And nobody's even stoned, as far as I can tell. Hundreds of thousands of people, millions, all feeling together for the first time ever. The Dark Knight has run the Joker out of town, and the euphoria is unbelievable.

The loony giddy feeling may or may not dissipate. But I have a feeling that people are so glad for this enormous change that even if the crazy happy goes, since that's hard to sustain, it will be transformed into a settled joy that I like to think will truly be able to accomplish stuff.

I love that he socked it to Shrub, and Shrub had to sit there and take it.

I love that it really feels different today.

I love that I saw eighty-year-old black people crying from joy and eighteen-year-old white people doing the same, though their joy came from different reasons and different roots.

I love that the Obamas look totally nuts about each other and can't keep their hands off each other in public.

I love that we actually seem to have a President who has brains, heart and nerve; who believes that ethics in government are as necessary as ethics in individuals; who apparently has begun as he means to go on.

I love feeling included in this country for the first time since I worked for Bobby Kennedy's 1968 campaign. I love feeling like an "us."

What I do not love: the flubbed oath. Either by accident (he had no copy of the oath on him, and apparently hadn't memorized it either) or on purpose (Obama voted against him in confirmation hearings), Chief Justice Roberts blew it bigtime, and forever marred what should have been a truly awesome and splendid perfect moment.

So now there has been a do-over of the oath, today, in the Map Room. It apparently didn't matter,since according to the Constitution the victor in the Electoral College becomes president at noon on January 20, regardless. So he is.

It's just a shame that so historic an event got all messed up by an idiot.

I see where some people are feeling sorry for the Boy King (as Maureen Dowd calls him) as he goes off to forever exile, and even profess to respect him for sticking to his ideals. I understand the sentiment, but cannot share it.

Well, no, that's not true, I don't understand it.

The man disrespected ALL of us: the country, even the whole world. He deserves no respect back. He dishonored his great office. He merits no honor in return. He had deeply flawed ideals and did not acknowledge or even understand those of others. He was not a public servant, but lived to serve only himself and his rich friends and dark masters. He wasn't Voldemort, just a Death Eater, but he did more to destroy this country than all of his predecessors. He forfeited his due as a president and his due as a person.

I'm glad he's gone, and I do not wish him well. And even my new President can't make me thank him for his "service." With service like that, we don't need enemies.


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