Tasha Huebner, Upset Again

When I was getting my MBA at Wharton, that was the suggestion of my dear friend Bob Albert, that I have a weekly editorial entitled “Tasha Huebner, Upset Again”. It’s true that when I met new people at school, they’d hear my name and immediately say “Oh, I know you, you write half the paper!” And yes, I was continually trotting into the Dean’s office to chat with Anjani Jain and rail against the latest injustice I saw being foisted upon us. So I guess you could say my reputation precedes me. Because you know what? I still get pissed off about things. A lot of things, not just those that directly concern me. And people ask me why I get upset about this stuff – “Tasha, why do you care? What does it matter? What’s the point?”

Yes, I could get along without giving a rat’s ass about a lot of these things and my life would go by unchanged – and yes, a lot of times it’s an exercise in futility, as no one seems to care or take notice. I recently wrote letters to both local papers here, the Sun-Times and the Tribune, papers that are always wondering where the citizen outrage is at all the corruption in this city. Did either paper print my letter? No. Instead we got yet another meandering nonsensical missive from that Spatafora guy, who always writes about the same themes: the capricious nature of youth, as adults we must seize the day, life is fleeting and then you die, kids these days! All in the same letter. Yeah, I don’t get them either. Meanwhile, my letter goes ignored, the one asking this simple question of WHAT is wrong with this city, in that the assessed value of MY home went up drastically since last year, yet the value of my neighbors’ home, the gut rehabbed single-family home worth at least twice as much as mine, went DOWN drastically such that it’s now assessed lower than mine. Could someone please answer that for me?

But at least I put my money where my mouth is. I read the paper, I watch the news, I vote in every single election no matter how primary it is. I volunteer, I donate to the NRDC , I’ve adopted a manatee for god’s sake. I write to my Congressman, and to the papers. And sometimes, they listen, or at least give us a chance to be heard:

Health insurance stories in the New York Times

I don’t kid myself that anyone really cares about what I think on all these issues out there, which is why I don’t normally write about them, but sometimes, we have to try to make a point, because these things DO matter. And at least we can say, in the end, that we tried to make a difference. And if the sane voices keep quiet, pretty soon the only thing we’ll hear will be the tinny caterwauling of the crazy people who think global warming is a hoax, and that the healthcare system in this country is just fine and dandy, and that we should let the free market sort out our economic woes without any of that government meddling. Well, except when all those investment banks need a bailout of billions of dollars. That’s okay, of course. According to the crazy people.

Finally, I’d like to say this: boobs. Yes, boobs. My blog readership goes up drastically when I mention the boobage, so there you go. Though maybe that’s just T-odd hitting the refresh button over and over again, hoping against hope that new boob pictures will have been posted. Patience, grasshopper, patience.