Driving Out Darkness

The shootings Sunday in a Sikh gurdwara in Oak Creek, Wisconsin, have affected me very much as they have affected others. I am sad, shocked, stricken. Coming so soon on the heels of the shootings in Aurora, Colorado, it's hard not to feel that hate and violence have gained the upper hand.

About the same time I heard about the shootings in Oak Creek, I found myself on the receiving end of some nasty vitriol. This happens from time to time when you're very fat, as I am. Many people believe it's possible—and obligatory—for all of us who are larger than average to better conform to the norm. In my experience, in this body I live in, I have not found it possible for longer than a year or so.

My many determined attempts earlier in my life to lose weight always ended in misery, with me gaining back all the weight I lost, and then another 25 percent besides, at which point I hated myself and my body more than ever. I have come to accept, though, that my body is more determined to save me from starvation than I could ever be to whittle it down to a socially acceptable size on a long-term basis.

After a long and tortuous journey, I have come to love and respect the body I live in, to honor what my body and I have been through together, to reject the ubiquitous pressure to be other than I am. That doesn't mean I've given up. Quite the contrary. It means that my relationship with my body is on much friendlier terms and I am free to care for it in the ways that work best for me. I also believe that my relationship with my body is my business alone. I am under no obligation to explain or apologize for my size. The judgments of others are not my problem unless I allow them to be.

But every now and then, judgment and hate come from an unexpected quarter, from someone I consider an ally, a fellow traveler. This happened Sunday on Facebook. Every time this sort of thing occurs, I have to shore myself up, give myself a good talking to, and actively resist colluding in the judgment of the hater.

Coming from someone I had thought a friend, the hate was very hard to take. I was hurt, and I took it personally. I had expressed my objection to a photo making the rounds that showed a very fat person sitting on a flimsy chair. That photo, taken from the back and not showing the person's head, is in itself designed to dehumanize and objectify the person. In the photo, "Chick-fil-A" had been photoshopped onto the back of the chair, and the text said "Welcome to Chick-fil-A, where being obese is 'genetic' but being gay is a 'lifestyle choice.'"

I felt I had to respond, because in such instances silence is the same as giving assent. I couldn't, in good conscience, do that. I registered my objection by posting a link to a Jezebel article by Lindy West, "I Know You're Mad at Chick-fil-A, but Stop Taking It Out on Fat People," that very articulately raises the same points I wanted to make. I never expected the venomous response I got. I pointed out that the hater was talking about me personally. And I tried to make sure that he had read the most salient part of the article:

We live in a culture where bullying is both socially acceptable and state-sanctioned. And it's that fucked-up aspect of our culture that makes Chick-Fil-A's anti-gay bullying a legitimate political stance rather than just the ramblings of some wacko fringe pariah. Our permissiveness around bullying is what's fueling this entire "debate." So to fight those bullies with bullying of our own isn't just counterintuitive—it contributes directly to the climate that keeps bigots like Chick-Fil-A above water.

Alas, not much of that sunk in, and after a couple more hateful exchanges, I gave up. I just couldn't subject myself to any more of it.

But I have a dear friend who also spoke up. I had reacted defensively, as though the entire conversation was really all about me. But my friend was more understanding. She engaged him further, and ultimately he admitted that his hatred was really directed at himself and his own body. He had lost some weight; he had hated himself when he was heavier. He felt justified in his hate.

What a revelation this was to me. First, given my personal vulnerability, I am so grateful that I didn't wade into these perilous waters alone. Second, my friend was able to practice kindness when I was not. Her persistence was a gift to me. Whereas before I had felt only horror, after I read what the hater said about hating himself when he was fat, I understood that the conversation had very little to do with me.


Thus my friend handed me the only really effective means of driving out the darkness of hate: forgiveness. In fact, when I understood what was really going on, I realized that forgiving this hater was no different from forgiving my former fat-loathing self. It took me a long, long time to be able to love myself the way I am. Perhaps it will take this hater as long or longer. I can only wish him well on his journey.

Perhaps hate always involves our feelings about ourselves—fears, insecurities, perceived inadequacies. In understanding this, I came to feel compassion for the hater, and I felt free to love him and forgive him and wish him well. I consider him a fellow traveler now more than I did before. He may not consider me the same, but it doesn't matter. I have my weapon—forgiveness—and I will wield it as ruthlessly as I'm able to drive out both the darkness within and the darkness without.

I'm not altogether sure how to wield it where the shootings in Oak Creek are concerned, but certainly the shooter's act was motivated by hate. And certainly at some point in processing what has happened, forgiveness will or can be a force for healing. We must counter hate as best we can in all its guises—the gross, horrific ones and the small, sad ones, both of which I experienced on Sunday.

Certainly our impulses toward solidarity and support that cross the barriers that usually divide us must be nurtured and encouraged as expressions of the imperative need for love to triumph over hate. The lessons we learn as we strive for healing must be shared and remembered and emblazoned on our hearts.


For my part, I will think twice when next I personally encounter hate. I will think about what it is in the hater's life that drives them and binds them. I will seek to forgive and to understand as best I can. I hope I will remember that they are not really all that different from me, and that the worst of their hatred is directed inward.

At the Dexter Avenue Baptist Church in Montgomery, Alabama, in 1957, Martin Luther King Jr. delivered a sermon on loving our enemies. He wrote it while in jail during the Montgomery bus boycott. It's well worth taking the time to read the whole thing—it's not that long—but here's the most powerful part:

To our most bitter opponents we say: "We shall match your capacity to inflict suffering by our capacity to endure suffering. We shall meet your physical force with soul force. Do to us what you will, and we shall continue to love you. ... Throw us in jail and we shall still love you. Bomb our homes and threaten our children, and we shall still love you. Send your hooded perpetrators of violence into our community at the midnight hour and beat us and leave us half dead, and we shall still love you. ... We will wear you down by our capacity to suffer. One day we shall win freedom but not only for ourselves. We shall so appeal to your heart and conscience that we shall win you in the process and our victory will be a double victory."

# # #Many thanks to the Overpass Light Brigade for the "Practice Peace" photo.

Poetry Break

Ancient Dreams

Ancient dreams
awake in the longing
of the night.
Who am I
when I close
my eyes?

I am the
revered body,
the sanctified
form.
I am the
aspiration
of tribes.
I am pride
overflowing
into bright days
of abundance.
I am the
awakening of
ancient dreams.

--Mary Ray Worley,
August 1, 2012

The photo is of the an ancient statue called the Dreamer of Malta, from around 3000 b.c.e.

We Have Met the Enemy and It Is Fuel Companies

Bill McKibben writes an important article in the Rolling Stone: 

Nations have agreed to a nonbinding resolution that "the increase in global temperature should be below two degrees Celsius."  Scientists conclude that "two degrees of warming is actually a prescription for long-term disaster" (NASA scientist James Hansen).  Island nations and arid ones could be destroyed with two degrees of warming.  "We've increased the Earth's temperature by 0.8 degrees so far. . . . If we stopped increasing CO₂ now, the temperature would likely still rise another 0.8 degrees, as previously released carbon continues to overheat the atmosphere."

"Scientists estimate that humans can pour roughly 565 more gigatons of carbon dioxide into the atmosphere by midcentury and still have some reasonable hope of staying below two degrees."

"The amount of carbon already contained in the proven coal and oil and gas reserves of the fossil-fuel companies, and the countries (think Venezuela or Kuwait) that act like fossil-fuel companies is 2,695 gigatons:" five times the amount that might be burned and keep warming within two degrees Celsius. (The Carbon Tracker Initiative – led by James Leaton).  These companies and countries plan to use it all.  They're working to do so as fast as possible.

"The planet does indeed have an enemy – one far more committed to action than governments or individuals. . . . We need to view the fossil-fuel industry in a new light. It has become a rogue industry, reckless like no other force on Earth. It is Public Enemy Number One to the survival of our planetary civilization. 'Lots of companies do rotten things in the course of their business – pay terrible wages, make people work in sweatshops – and we pressure them to change those practices,' says veteran anti-corporate leader Naomi Klein, who is at work on a book about the climate crisis. 'But these numbers make clear that with the fossil-fuel industry, wrecking the planet is their business model. It's what they do.' "

It's not the fossil nature of the fuel that is the problem.  All widely available fuel produces greenhouse gases.  Carbon dioxide (bad as it is) is the least-harmful combustion product possible.  Incomplete combustion of smouldering damp vegetation or used fryer oil gives off soot, carbon monoxide, and other smoke more harmful to the atmosphere and to health.  Burning plants for fuel also stops those plants from absorbing carbon dioxide from the atmosphere.  If we have to burn something, about the least-harmful fuel is natural gas.  (Of course, fracturing the bedrock your town is built on, to release the gas, can destroy the town.)  (Hydrogen burns with only water as a combustion product--but hydrogen for fuel is scarce.  We have to use more energy to break down water to get hydrogen, than we get back by burning the hydrogen.)  (Growing corn, and turning it into ethanol, require vast amounts of energy and fertilizer.  It's done only because the government subsidizes it.)

TomRW

Resistance Is Essential

Three weeks have gone by, and finally I've figured out what I think. I know, I know. I'm slow to process such things. There were many who would gladly have digested the experience for me, but I resisted. This was big. Huge even. I had to figure it out for myself, even if it took me, well, a few weeks.

First, I'm furious. Second, if I had it all to do over again, I would. Gladly. And I hope you would too.

Of course, I'm still furious at the Fitzwalker weasels for all the damage they're doing to our beloved state. But I'm also furious that Obama tweeted his "support" in the eleventh hour, that the DNC's idea of "support" was to come to Wisconsin to squeeze more money out of people who'd already given their hearts and souls and more money than they could afford to the recall effort, not to mention the money the Fitzwalkers have already stolen from them. They threw us under the goddamned bus.

The DNC treated the Wisconsin Recall like it was a marginal little regional dispute. The RNC, on the other hand, treated it like it was the front line of an epic battle, a warm-up for November. I wonder how the DNC would like it if we tweeted our support on November 5. (Don't worry—I'll hold my nose and vote for O, but only because the alternative is too horrible to contemplate.)

Three weeks of grieving. I keep thinking of all of you who worked so incredibly hard. Collecting signatures in the freezing cold. Organizing and canvassing and connecting and generally working your asses off. The result is so bitter, so hard to swallow.

Our state has been occupied by greedy corporate plunderers who believe the 1% are more worthy than the rest of us, who care nothing for our children's future, for the unemployed, for students and teachers, for our health, for our state's precious natural resources, for truth and transparency.

Not only is the result hard to accept. It's hard to believe it's legit. Regardless of whether there was outright fraud or just a gross billionaire-funded burial of the state in outsize lies and propaganda, or both, the system is rigged.

We the people have been subsumed by them the corporations.

In spite of the outcome, in spite of how hard it is to accept, it was the right thing to do. In fact, it's still the right thing to do. We need not apologize for having attempted to rid Wisconsin of its weasel infestation. We didn't fail. We were failed—by a rigged system and by the milquetoast pseudo support of Obama and the DNC.

That we didn't succeed only means that resistance is more essential than ever. The weasels are ruthless, organized, and loaded with dirty billionaire dough. As Robert Kraig so rightly observed, "A movement is not something that can be defeated by one election. ... It bears remembering that the modern conservative movement was established out of the ashes of a decisive electoral defeat, Barry Goldwater’s landslide presidential loss in 1964."

A little voice in my head keeps saying, "Don't mourn! Organize!" But I can't tell you not to mourn, as I am doing my own mourning. But I will tell you to organize.

What does it take to organize? Nothing fancy or complicated. Just friends, community, and learning. By "friends," I mean strong, lasting, deep friendships that you can count on when your back is up against the wall. Real community happens when every member counts, every member has a voice, every member is worthy of care and respect. A community cultivates cooperation, understanding, and confidence, in each other and in our leaders, even and especially when we don't agree.

We have only just begun to build solidarity, and in spite of how often or loudly we chant otherwise, we don't always know what democracy looks like. But we are learning. And we must continue to learn, to educate ourselves and each other. To give ourselves and each other the benefit of the doubt, and to forgive ourselves and each other when necessary.

We have to keep raising our voices, in defiance of the cacophony of the corporate mass media and the rabid right spin machine. We have to keep resisting, to keep singing. Thanks to a stalwart band of determined activists, the Solidarity Sing Along continues to be an important point of daily resistance, as well as an important point of community learning and organizing. We're still putting the Fitzwalker weasels on notice: We're still here. We're not going away.

We can't stop now. We're only just getting started.

# # #Many thanks to Leslie Amsterdam for use of her photo (top).

Ferraro, Compas, and June 5, 2012

In 1984, Geraldine Ferraro was the first female vice-presidential candidate in U.S. history. I think she was the first female political candidate to register on my radar. I was twenty-eight years old. I was a long way from being the political junkie that I have become. I didn't yet identify myself as a feminist. At best you could say I was paying casual attention.

I had no idea that any of it was all that important to me, but around the time Ferraro and Mondale lost the election, I had a very vivid dream. I dreamed that I met Ferraro, shook her hand, and thanked her profusely for running. I told her how important it was to me personally that she had run, and I shamelessly begged her to run again.

I woke up surprised. My subconscious mind had a more active political life than my conscious mind did. Obviously the dream was powerful enough that I've not forgotten it twenty-eight years later. (OMG, has it really been that long?) I had a lot more of myself invested in Ferraro's candidacy than I realized, just for the very simple reason that she was a woman—well, a smart woman who said things that resonated for me.

Twenty-eight years later, here I am in Wisconsin, startled to find myself and my friends on the front lines of the battle for democracy. In my evolution as an activist feminist political junky, there have been candidates and political leaders I have felt a strong connection with: Russ Feingold, Tammy Baldwin, the Fab 14, the Assembly democrats in their orange tee-shirts. But absolutely no one has struck a chord with me like Lori Compas has.

She is exactly as she describes herself: a citizen candidate. Had it not been for the Fitzwalkers' outrageous political overreach, Lori, like many of us, would likely have carried on with life as usual, in Lori's case, being a mom and a businesswoman. But there's nothing usual about what's happening in Wisconsin.

Every week or so, like so many others, I find myself doing things I've never done before: Gathering signatures. Talking about politics to neighbors, acquaintances, and strangers. Discovering that, lo and behold, I have a voice. Who knew? By deciding to run against Fitzy, Lori took that "politics as unusual" thing so many of us are going through several steps further.

On May 23, I had another of those political firsts. I went to my first live political debate. Not super monumental, maybe, but anymore it seems like the opportunity to see one of these rapers of the public good called to account without party and mass media gatekeepers running interference is rare indeed. And this was none other than our very own Lori Compas challenging the oh-so-full-of-himself Scott Fitzgerald to account for his actions as the elected representative of Wisconsin's lucky 13th senate district.

That debate alone was a huge victory for all of us. I loved watching Fitzy's face get redder and redder as he worked so hard to keep his temper in check. I loved seeing him on the defensive. And I loved watching Lori calmly stand up to him and call him out. Here's a little secret: I am easily intimidated. (Don't tell anyone, okay?) So when I see someone—anyone—stand up to an individual who not only is powerful but abuses that power, I am in awe. The catharsis is visceral. And that's how it was for me the night of the debate. My inner child was doing a wild, happy jig.

Many of the things Lori said that night were really important and needed to be said right to Fitzy's (red) face.

Democracy doesn't stop when we cast our ballots. It's a continual process. We need to watch our leaders and hold them accountable, and this right is protected in our constitution. What we're seeing here is a pattern of abuse of power and betrayal of trust. The senator broke the open meetings law, he forced his fellow legislators to sign secrecy pledges, and he didn't campaign on these major policies that he has imposed on our society. He didn't tell us he wanted to divide and conquer us.

Is her closing statement, Lori made clear to Fitzy that he is accountable to the people of his district. He may think he's working for Walker. He may think he's working for ALEC and his corporate backers. But Lori made it crystal clear that the senator is supposed to be working for the people of senate district 13.

Our discussion tonight has shown that the people of our district have never had a clearer choice between the entrenched power of a career politician and the grassroots energy of a citizen candidate. We are here tonight because the senator abused his power and betrayed our trust. He campaigned on jobs and economic development, but instead of jobs, he gave us divisive policies that polarized our state.

We didn't ask him to roll back women's rights, but he did. We didn't ask him to roll back voting rights, but he did. We didn't ask him to roll back workers' rights, but he did. And in doing so, he turned neighbor against neighbor, friend against friend. He led the effort to execute a plan that was, in Governor Walker's words, designed to divide and conquer us, his constituents.

As upsetting as these policies were, the process he followed was even worse. He shut down debate, he silenced our voices, he had absolute power, and he used it to hurt us. And last winter, twenty thousand of his own constituents told me that they could not bear this to go on. They told me it was time to stand up for what's right. They told me they didn't want him anymore.

I'm honored that the volunteers turned to me to serve instead, and I'll do my best to be worthy of their trust. I will be a senator who's open and accessible. I'll return the focus of our district to create jobs, fund education, and provide affordable health care. I'll help return to Wisconsin's best traditions of cooperation and civility in the legislature, and I'll be honored to serve as your voice in the senate.

As I said from the beginning, this campaign isn't about one person, and it isn't about one political party. It's about our shared belief that people should matter more than money. It's about our belief in open, honest government. It's about our belief that legislators should represent their constituents honorably.

The people I've met during this campaign—Republicans, Independents, and Democrats—have shown me that there is so much more that unites us than divides us. This gives me great hope. I'm offering you a clear choice. I ask for your vote on June 5th.

I tried to explain to Lori (in person, not in a dream!) after the debate how much her candidacy means to me. I even tried to tell her about the Ferraro dream. But I failed to get across how much her courageous advocacy means to me. I'm doing better as I write this now, but I'm still not able to adequately express how deep and powerful my feelings are. I just know that there are many others whose feel the same. I expect they'll understand.

So here were are on June 4. June 4, 2012. I can hardly believe it. Unlike 1984, I know exactly how much of myself is invested in what happens tomorrow, not only in the race for governor, but also in the races for the senate. And especially in the Compas-Fitzgerald race. Every fiber of my being, every corner of my mind—conscious and subconscious—is pulling for Lori. And Tom. And Mahlon. And the amazing recall fighters of Wisconsin. There’s no way I’m going to be able to sleep tonight.

Photo courtesy of Ingrid Laas

Dear Wisconsin Recall Fighters

Dear Wisconsin Recall Fighters,
I swear to God you are the coolest, most awesome people on earth, and I count myself incredibly privileged and honored to be among you. Despite formidable and even vicious opposition, you have more than risen to the challenge. You have consistently refused take Walker’s “no” for an answer.

You marched and chanted in all kinds of weather. You camped out in the capitol. You doggedly and cheerfully collected a million signatures. No matter how loudly you have been shouted at, you have outsung the opposition every time.

When they put up ginormous signs paid for by gazillionaires, you made your own, some of them with little twinkly lights that shine in the dark on overpasses all over the state, some of them in your lawns and gardens.

Some of you have run or are running for office, while others of you are working your butts off for the recall candidates' campaigns. In huge ways and small, you've transformed your lives for the sake of Wisconsin. Your passion and devotion are breathtaking.

The opposition can’t hold a candle to your Overpass Light Brigades. Their astroturf has none of the life and vibrancy of your luscious grass roots. You are incredibly creative, talented, innovative, and courageous. You are all heart and then some.

I know you’re working your asses off this weekend to get out the vote, and I thank you with all my heart. Together we can liberate this beleaguered Fitzwalkerstan and reclaim Wisconsin.

My husband, who understands and even likes statistics, wants you to think about this: In the May 8 recall primary, 54,000 more votes were cast statewide for the recall candidates (Barrett, Falk, Vinehout, Kohl-Riggs, and Lafollette) than for Walker and his “Democratic” ally, Huber. Counties preferring recall polled 189,000 more pro-recall votes than pro-Walker votes. The pro-recall counties were led by Dane, with 80,000 more votes for recall than for Walker, and Milwaukee County, with 61,000 more votes for recall.

On the other hand, pro-Walker counties polled 135,000 more votes for Walker + Huber than for the recall candidates. They were led by Waukesha County, with 44,000 more votes for Walker + Huber than for recall, and by Washington County, with 18,000 more votes for Walker + Huber.

In Madison alone, there were approximately 97,000 registered voters who did not vote on May 8. That's about three out of five registered Madison voters who did not vote on May 8. And who even knows about eligible but unregistered voters? Turnout in Madison was about 41 percent on May 8. With over 165,000 registered voters in Madison, fewer than 68,000 voted. Of those who did, 86 percent voted for recall. If that percentage holds fairly steady with a big increase in voter turnout, we’ll win this. Fitzwalkerstan will be no more. We will have reclaimed Wisconsin.

To say that there’s a lot riding on this election is a gross understatement. It’s entirely possible that there will be no election in our lifetimes as important as this one. This is the populace versus big money, human beings versus corporations, democracy versus plutocracy. In spite of the Democratic Party’s chronic myopia, this is where We the People begin taking our country back from the corporate thugs who thought they could buy it out from under us.

Now is the time to pull out all of the stops. Even introverts like me need to crawl out of our hidey holes and engage. I found myself on Thursday saying to the cashier in the checkout, “Be sure you vote on Tuesday!” I went to two Solidarity Sing Alongs in one day and made phone calls to potential canvassers in between. I tweeted my way through Thursday night’s debate. Never in my wildest introverted dreams did I ever think I would do such things. But if not me, then who? If not now, when? I just wish I could do more, and I’m grateful beyond words for all of you who are doing so much.

What we do in the next few days matters a whole lot. What we do right here in Madison matters a whole lot. This is our chance to show the world what Wisconsin democracy looks like. This is where the recall meets the road.



Vote responsibly: bring a friend.

# # #Statistics lovingly parsed by Tom Worley and provided by the Government Accountability Board, and the Madison City Clerk. Sun Prairie sign brigade photo by Heather DuBois Bourenane. Rotunda heart balloon photo by Jenna Pope. Liberate Fitzwalkerstan made just for me by the inimitable Michael Martin. June 5 vote photo by Michael Matheson. It All Comes Down to One Day video by We Are Wisconsin PAC. Vote As If Your Life Depends On It photo by Peter Patau.

Polls Shmolls: We Can Win This!

Yesterday for most of the day I felt pretty much like I'd been kicked in the gut, owing to a combination of not enough sleep, the DNC's milquetoast support for the recall, the DNR's noxious inaction in the Sewergate horror, Walker talking about his jobs record using Kathy Nicholaus's new new math, and the effing poll numbers. I just couldn't shake the visceral feeling of dread that kept creeping over me. Every time I opened my mouth, I sounded like Eeyore when he lost his tail:

Eeyore stood by himself in a thistly corner of the forest, his front feet well apart, his head on one side, and thought about things. Sometimes he thought sadly to himself, "Why?" and sometimes he thought, "Wherefore?" and sometimes he thought, "Inasmuch as which?"—and sometimes he didn't quite know what he was thinking about.

Yes, that. Eeyore's gloom prevents him from seeing anything clearly. Having ascertained that he has, in fact, lost his tail, Eeyore attributes monumental significance to it.

"That Accounts for a Good Deal," said Eeyore gloomily. "It Explains Everything. No Wonder."

This is also the problem with polls, especially when coupled with too little sleep. They're just somebody's idea of what maybe might be occurring at a given moment before an election, give or take a few thousands. Even well-conducted polls amount to a more or less educated guess. Who knows what will influence fence-sitting voters? When they themselves don't really know just what they're going to do, the people making predictions are blowing a certain amount of smoke.

And that smoke can cloud your vision. Those who appear to be ahead, even by a negligible margin, rejoice, while an impending sense of doom spreads over those who appear to be behind, even by a sliver. Any change from an earlier poll, however minuscule, may be taken as a trend. The effect of the poll is to say, more or less, that the race is over, it's a done deal, and here are the results. But it's not over. A lot can happen in just a few weeks, and the results are as yet undetermined.

Regarding the illustrious Marquette poll for May, some regard it as valid, and others caution us not to start counting the Republican chickens, recognizing that the unprecedented nature of this election means that all bets are off. The polls are trying to predict politics as usual. The parties are doing their best to maintain politics as usual. But given all that we've done to organize and mobilize and make this election happen, this is anything but politics as usual.

We do know that the race is likely to be close, so every small thing we do has the potential to significantly affect the outcome. We've no time to tromp about looking for the donkey's tail. We have invested too much of ourselves in this race to take the spin and drivel of polls and right-wing media to heart.

We have already accomplished so much more than anyone would have thought possible just a year and a half ago. Now is the time for courage, good humor, plenty of sleep, action, and solidarity. We are fighting for justice, truth, freedom—all the biggies. We are on the side of the angels. The order of the day is to keep our eyes on the prize and keep working our butts off.

Heather DuBois Bourenane over at Monologues of Dissent has some excellent suggestions for boots-on-the-ground action in these last few weeks.

When Chistopher Robin had nailed it on in its right place again, Eeyore frisked about the forest, waving his tail so happily that Winnie-the-Pooh came over all funny, and had to hurry home for a little snack of something to sustain him.

Embrace the blue donkey, tail and all, and repeat after me: We can win this!