It's a truth universally acknowledged, but rarely spoken about, that one of the unwritten obligations of spouses is to save their partners from themselves. Who else but the person who loves you can save you from your own vanity and stupidity?
The recipient of this mother lode of spousal advise is never happy upon first hearing it. He, let's call him, Mr. Man, expresses in a moment of intimacy, after doors have been successfully barricaded against marauding toddlers, that what he really wants to do is: give up that life-draining, soul-sucking, spirit-destroying job working for that imbecile with a superiority complex, who wouldn't know brilliance if it jumped up and bit him or the difference between a genius and an elbow, and ... open a B & B in Oregon. That's nice honey, the old ball and chain says, which strikes him as encouraging.
The next day he finds her watching Curb Appeal on HGTV, as the kids sit on the floor grooming the dog, who upholds her dignity by striking a Ghandian pose of civil disobedience. His goal is to secure a collaborator, or at least permission, for his quixotic journey through Maslow's hierarchy of needs straight, don't stop at GO, to self-actualization. He shows his wife a Google search of all Oregon B & Bs that are for sale. He shows her the provision in their retirement account that allows a penalty-free withdrawal for exceptional circumstances. He shows her pictures of the Oregon hinterlands. "It will be a new life for us, without all this, without all the baggage." She looks around, at the baggage, at the children, checks out the before and after landscaping on Curb Appeal, and finally says: "What is wrong with you?" He, crushed, calls her a dream killer, and stalks out of the room. Months later, as he admires his curb appeal, he realizes she was right -- of course.
So, Mrs. First Lady Patti Blagojevich, when your husband was trying to retract $8 million dollars in funding from Children's Memorial Hospital, (you know, that place of last hope for so many sick children), because the hospital's CEO wouldn't give your husband $50,000, it was your duty as a wife, a mother, and a citizen to kick his sorry behind.
When he was trying to get members of the Editorial Board of the Chicago Tribune fired for speaking the truth about his ethical lapses, it was reckless of you to egg him on with, "hold up that f- - - - - - Cubs s- - - . . . . f- - - them." And when he was trying to sell what wasn't his to get you and him gainfully employed, you should have reminded him of some rules to live by:
-Don't play with your ego or with fire, both can get you burned;
-While there's sex for free, there's no money for nothing;
-Don't sell what isn't yours;
-We should get jobs like everyone else--read Craig's List and apply;
-Don't get the voters mad;
-Don't do anything that makes us as welcome as flatulence in a spacesuit;
-Don't be a punk, think of the children;
-Don't be an ass, think of our future.
Send a "Resign, You Punk" e-mail to Rod Blagojevich here, or call his office 217 782 0244, TTY: 1 888-262-3336.