Pelosi, Dowd: “Teacher’s Pets?”
I would suppose it normal to have a “favorite” person you like. A “Teacher’s pet!” if you will and in some circles, a “Brown nose”.
To be sure in a family constellation there is always a “favorite” somebody as well in a classroom or corporation. A person in a favored position is there due to something he or she has done or has not done. It is common knowledge in that person’s peer group precisely what that person has or has not done and with people being people, there is that tension with the insincere adulation and contrived comfort zones when in their presence; the “If I do what you do, they would like me too!” seething.
In my opinion, this emotion is different than jealousy. In jealousy you would just call her a mean old bitch everytime you think about her and keep going about your business but her being a “favorite” is another can of worms. You wait for what you pray for every day and night; that big Kahuna “fuck-up!” and when that happens, you are transformed. You know the joys of the people who stormed the Bastille and the acres of Woodstock.
You ceremoniously fold your arms gleefully waiting for the next shoe to drop. You know it’s going to drop. It’s gotta drop and you don‘t want to miss a thing! In your revere, you have near tearful anticipations of her ducking and dodging verbal sticks and stones and her screaming for mercy as she is chased down Pennsylvania Avenue with barking dogs, cursing little ol’ ladies with their canes and umbrellas and the homeless community joining in the chase trying to keep up. You work yourself into a dance with flailing arms and syncopated feet until you exhaust yourself leaning prostrate against the nearest lamp post. Discombobulated.
-Are you Ok, Ma’m?
-Yes Officer. I’m fine. Thank you.
You remember what they did to Jason Blair and Armstrong Williams. You remember Janet Cooke and Dr. Joycelyn Elders. You remember they too were favorites. Somebody's favorite. Your favorite. And you also remember Congressman Adam Clayton Powell who pre-dated Rev. Al Sharpton and Rev. Jesse Jackson. You remember all of them who had to run the gauntlet down Pennsylvania Avenue. The tears begin to flow and fall. You shake. You cry. You sob. You melt.
As always,
BB
To be sure in a family constellation there is always a “favorite” somebody as well in a classroom or corporation. A person in a favored position is there due to something he or she has done or has not done. It is common knowledge in that person’s peer group precisely what that person has or has not done and with people being people, there is that tension with the insincere adulation and contrived comfort zones when in their presence; the “If I do what you do, they would like me too!” seething.
In my opinion, this emotion is different than jealousy. In jealousy you would just call her a mean old bitch everytime you think about her and keep going about your business but her being a “favorite” is another can of worms. You wait for what you pray for every day and night; that big Kahuna “fuck-up!” and when that happens, you are transformed. You know the joys of the people who stormed the Bastille and the acres of Woodstock.
You ceremoniously fold your arms gleefully waiting for the next shoe to drop. You know it’s going to drop. It’s gotta drop and you don‘t want to miss a thing! In your revere, you have near tearful anticipations of her ducking and dodging verbal sticks and stones and her screaming for mercy as she is chased down Pennsylvania Avenue with barking dogs, cursing little ol’ ladies with their canes and umbrellas and the homeless community joining in the chase trying to keep up. You work yourself into a dance with flailing arms and syncopated feet until you exhaust yourself leaning prostrate against the nearest lamp post. Discombobulated.
-Are you Ok, Ma’m?
-Yes Officer. I’m fine. Thank you.
You remember what they did to Jason Blair and Armstrong Williams. You remember Janet Cooke and Dr. Joycelyn Elders. You remember they too were favorites. Somebody's favorite. Your favorite. And you also remember Congressman Adam Clayton Powell who pre-dated Rev. Al Sharpton and Rev. Jesse Jackson. You remember all of them who had to run the gauntlet down Pennsylvania Avenue. The tears begin to flow and fall. You shake. You cry. You sob. You melt.
As always,
BB
posted by BB at 2:11 AM
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