Wednesday, December 26, 2007
No, not the overwhelming crushing odor of leftover ham and turkey surging upwards from thousands of kitchen fans. This smell is like a cold seabreeze - a supernumerary odor, cool and crisp and biting and almost metallic, above the normal moronosphere that hangs so low here, heavy and stultifying.
It's exciting. It's inspirational. It's enough to make you stand still and just enjoy it, head raised, sniffing like a scenthound who is about to give chase.
It's the smell of comeuppance.
Those folks who never did without, who wanted everything now now NOW, who used their McMansions as ATM or slot machines, dumping quarters in, taking thousands out, lording it over the hardworking taxpaying slaving folk who bought less than they could afford, who planned for the future. They are about to get what they so richly deserve, what they asked for, what they begged for, and it is about to schmack them in the face... and in the pocket.
Right now they are surreptitiously unloading their toys, talking innocently and brightly about downsizing, while in the dark their bills are piling up and up, keeping them awake nights like the monotonous sounds of a metronome tick... tock... tick... tock... tick... tock. They are quietly scrabbling to find cash for one more, three more, months, to pay their mortgage, to finance all of the expensive toys and furnishings in their lives that they simply had to have, to impress - whomever - to prove - whatever. Their fingernails are scratching, scrabbling, like rats' paws against the splintering walls of a twisting, shrieking, sinking ship, and they are going down down down into the depths of hell's waters, their panting lungs slowly filling with air...
And it is delightful to stand on the shores of integrity, honesty, common sense, and industry, and watch it happen. It is delightful to stand there, simply because they could not resist, for the past five years, running around all of us shore-bound folk, bragging about where they were going, what they were buying, where they were living, with never a word of how they were going to pay for it all. The Noveau Riche, flushed bright pink with the joys of cash in hand, credit cards that could be used to pay for other credit cards, refinancing their homes again and again, scraping up the piles of cash and fleeing off to their next great adventure, all the while thumbing their noses at shore-bound others who were just old fuddie-duddies, who were stick in the muds, who didn't know how to enjoy life... They were innocent whores, dancing from one john to another, mating with whomever would have them, selling their credit and their fathers' good names and their childrens' futures for a mess of pottage, never looking behind them, spending money that they just knew that they would always have, as their house appraisals went up month to month, week to week. Enslaving themselves to evil-eyed predators who smiled and encouraged and took their money every month, who laughed with them and drank with them and encouraged them to get, to have, to take, more and more.
When the final crash comes, they will go under, squeaking like the rats they are, clinging to this halyard and that line, praying for de gummint or someone, anyone, to save them. Like rats, they carry their own poison with them, and should not be saved, but left to drown in their own feces. For this crash is of their own making, their own stupidity, their own selfish and self-seeking desires.
Saturday, December 22, 2007
Actually I got started about six months ago. I'm slowly weeding out the stressors in my life. The emotional vampires, the people who call themselves "friends" - who have never given a damn about me or my problems, who always dump their loads on me, and then who walk away or are nowhere to be found or who change the subject whenever I try to share my problems. One pisses me off the worst - if I get diagnosed with a disease, she's got it too, or if I am sick, she's dying. Her daily problems are always mega-tragedies , but if I utter a peep about my problems, she dissolves away like a bad Hallmark TV movie fadeout. To put it politely, too, the way that you can tell she is lying is - her lips are moving. She tells one story to me, another to my best friend, another to still another mutual friend - and none of the stories she tells is the truth. Friend? That's not a friend - that's a selfish user, a spoiled brat, an emotional vampire. Kickin' her to the curb.
Another "friend" whom I have helped over and over again is gone now too - because in a typical selfish fit, he was downright nasty and insulting on the phone. I've lost count of the times he called me over the years threatening suicide and expecting me to talk him out of it. He blames it on the liquor. Whiny and pathetic when sober, stupid and loud when drunk, he is perhaps one of the best representations of someone useless taking up peoples' air. He'll never change - because he can always find people to help him. Not me, and not any more. Next time he can kill himself (not that he ever will. No guts). I invented a manual for suicides once. Think I'll send him a copy. Oxygen is in short supply. Kickin' him to the curb.
There's other ones, too - the ones I've known for years who think nothing of calling or emailing for urgent help, insisting that they can't do it themselves - and when the work is done, no calls, nothing, and certainly no interest or concern about what I had to drop or change, or what emotions I had to put on hold to change gears to do something for them. They don't ask because they don't want to know. When they insist "You don't tell me anything!" - it's because when I start to, they either change the subject or get that foggy look in their eyes that says 'not listening not listening'... Kickin' them to the curb.
It must be my face, that seems so open, or my eyes, that look like they care, or appear sad or interested. Guess what? They aren't, and I don't. Never really have. Instead I listen to see what they are going to demand from me next, and start planning my days on how I can accommodate them and their little problems without disrupting my life.
This week I was told by several people that I looked better and healthier than usual. Well, I am. I'm not happier - that isn't happening with the deep and painful load I personally bear, every day, without even bothering trying to tell anyone about any more. These bastards won't listen, don't want to know, don't care if they do know, and have made that very plain. But I am slowly picking off these sand burrs that have been riding me for so long, itching and scratching and burning my soul with their constant and annoying little pricks. I am going to dump them all, one by one, until there are none left. I don't need them - and they can always find someone else to need. They think that I don't know why they do it - it's because they know that I am smarter, better than they are - and the only way they can feel equal to me is to 'fool' me into letting them use me.
And that's my New Year's resolution. I resolve to scrape off these selfish, whiny, hapless, helpless, schmoozing, simpering little pricks. Let them find someone else to sink their burrs into, let them find someone else to torment and torture with their pathetic needs and wants, let them stand on their own or rot in hell. Let them try laughing or sneering behind my back, thinking they've pulled still another one over on me. Now that they have developed their mewling, grasping, sickening dependence, let them stand or fall on their own. I don't really give a shit; not about them, nor their little problems, nor their simple-minded grasping petty needs.
I have a very few friends with whom I can share everything, and everyone else is just a non-entity, a nothing, a nobody, stuck on me for the ride. Well, the ride is over.
Friday, December 21, 2007
Love is a many splendored thang.
There's an overriding sadness in my heart, though. The Muse is tired. I am exhausted by the emotional vampires of the past year. One in particular I had to discipline in a very uncomfortable and painful way. A 'friendship' of 8 years that he casually and drunkenly destroyed with a terribly insulting voicemail message that inflamed my husband to murderous rage and that forced me to take action. Tis the season - of emotional cripples ramming their selfish and simpering, "I-can't-help-it-it was-the-liquor-drugs-pain-in-my-heart" down the throats of people who try to comfort and help them. Grow the hell up. I would say I've probably lost a friend but a friend does not only, endlessly, take in a relationship, so I haven't lost anything at all, really. A muse cannot inspire those who refuse inspiration, and those who merely depend on me for brief and endlessly repetitive assurances that they are worthwhile waste my time and my life. Of course, like most, he will take offense that I took offense at his crossing the line from friendship into insult. The attitude of the endlessly self-involved.
Yes, the Muse is tired. I see my future before me, like a long and dusty rutted road. I know where I am determined to go, where I want to go, where I want to be. But I will have to give up so much for it. I will have to leave loves and passions behind and determinedly head for where I want to be, the next stage of my life, what I sincerely and honestly have always wanted to do. And the people with whom I associate now will not be a part of that. They will be out of my life forever. But that is what I choose. To satisfy my deepest desires - that only a few really know - and to come to the final culmination of my life at last.
My last Christmas Party - spent with the people whom I most love, respect, honor, and admire - and now it is for me to quietly continue to fade into that peaceful oblivion where my own quiet joys and satisfactions will at last be met. I have done all that I can here. Another life awaits.
Tuesday, December 4, 2007
Another woman called with a survey for my bank. Now, I LIKE my bank. Never had a problem with it - and when I did, they straightened it out so swiftly that it didn't become a problem. Nice folks. Efficient folks. So I gave them high ratings - except for the fact that they are in the lobby of WalMart, which sux for them - because they never have any sort of decent line-up ability, no privacy, always busy and always on display like ducks in a shooting gallery. So I told the surveyor that and she got tickled.
I do like to make people happy, make em smile, give them something to grin at later. I guess that's why I got so MAD when I talked to a good friend today. Here we have an older lady, nice, kind, quiet, friendly, always offering her time and money to charitable causes - and simply because she won't vote for and support a complete moron, Moron and his wife have started a lying campaign to destroy her character. Mrs. Moron is a loudmouthed brassy female with a past that is VERY well known - abandoned her children, used everyone, had sex with most of the now-men in the county - and now that she has married Inherited Moneybags Moron III, thinks her shit doesn't stink. She loves to wear dresses made for 20-somethings - and she and her body are a FAR cry from that. She has neither the grace nor the class to know that her skin is too wrinkled and her butt too big to play Queen of the Sluts, bending over and showing off her shriveled dugs, or her temperament too well known for playing the doting granny when her children never knew her - any more. She nor he have no idea that all the men who have slept with her - most of whom she probably doesn't even remember! - make snide remarks when she and he pass by. Yet She and IMM III - who in private describes the people who admire him as idiots - think they have a right to trash everyone who doesn't agree with them. It took me two hours to talk my friend down, she was so upset at the Morons.
I love karma. Their time is coming, and both are such Morons that they do not know it, don't think it can ever happen to them, think that they can do whatever and whomever they please and get away with it forever, simply to satisfy their own selfish desires - just as they've lived their entire lives. And if I can help push it along, with my poor abused and maligned friend - you bet your ass I will.
So yes it was good to make those anonymous yet friendly people laugh.... but it will be better to watch the Morons cry.
Friday, November 30, 2007
My real life is pretty private. The life I live now is far removed from what my past once was. Once upon a time, I was gullible and innocent. Once upon a time I believed that laws were for the protection of the innocent and the punishment of the guilty. Many years ago, that belief was shattered, when a bureaucracy used the law to go after me and my family in a very real way, for their own self-promotion and enrichment. Rather than rolling over and playing dead, I rose up in a rage and went after them. While my family was irreparably damaged by their actions, it was also ultimately saved by our refusal to bow down and accept their unrighteousness. I found out that evil really does lurk in the hearts of many, ready to jump out for their own self-gratification and promotion. I found out that people were, simply, not to be trusted. I found out that I could not live life silently, quietly, bothering no one and trusting that no one would bother me. My attorney back then called me "Don Quixote" - forever tilting at windmills and saving someone.
But I really don't like that persona. It is a defense against the world. What I really like is having the time to cook and bake and create artistry with my hands, and grow things, and take care of animals with all of their varying and different personalities. What I really like is peace and quiet. Nights in front of the fire. days in the field or in my shop or kitchen. Days where I never have to speak to another human, only cats and dogs and other critters that have simple tastes, simple needs, and simple responses. Purrs and puppy-snuggles for affection.
Then someone cries out for help and I am off again. More new friends want to hear my story. More people need someone to save them, to help explain why the people and governments and powers are going after them instead of leaving them alone. And I am on the road again.
I guess that is what really bugs me about all of the superficial crap going on around me, in the news, in the movies, in other peoples' lives. So much of this shit doesn't matter. So much of it is Disney World - artificial joy, artificial evil, phony pain, fake pleasures. Wii games and the latest Sudoku puzzle. Shit, that is - just shit, with no reality, no reason, no conclusion, an endless slippery downward sludge-slide of things that don't matter, and are created only for creation's sake, to occupy the mindless, the brainless, the senseless superficial folk.
Meanwhile, the world goes to hell around them, and they haven't a clue as to what it is all about, other than how it affects their own immediacy. They are the perfect swallowers, avid consumers, of shit - mouths open, vacant-eyed, nattering about things that don't matter,
dancing their way to hell under the revolving disco balls and neon lights that braise their skull-like faces in sharp relief.
Meanwhile, I talk with other people about things that matter. We talk about the computer generated evils that distract people from the real and creeping evils around them, that blind them to the truth with bright and dark, beautiful and deadly, multipixilated colors and experiences that are only viewed, never touched, tasted, smelt, or emoted.
"Doom, gloom, and rumors of boom" - it's coming, and The End is Near. I need a long white beard, a photographer's wrap, and a sandwich board sign. Or, maybe, just a computer graphic artist...
Saturday, November 24, 2007
I don't spend much on Christmas. Never have. Never will. One year I bought at the day-after Christmas sales, because I wouldn't see anyone til after Christmas anyway.
I did it all in between cleaning up the kitchen, watching a movie, and doing laundry. Peace and quiet, no dealing with people whom I would have to hit, no dealing with rude or exhausted cashiers, no trying to be polite to people whom I haven't seen who suddenly appear next to my shopping cart. Today the tree, wreath, and homemade decorations go up, and Christmas starts. And I still have money in my account. Ahhhhhh.
Last week I sent an ecard to a friend whom I love very much, whom I've loved for 20 years or more, whom I never get to see any more. We parted under bad circumstances not of our making. It is hard to love people when other people get between you; you can never be sure that they love you the same after all of the gossip and angst that comes between you. It is even harder, more frustrating, to love people when you have friends who hate each other, or despise each other, and you cannot make peace between them. Yet he answered right away, renewing my faith in our friendship. I don't love a whole lot of people (no matter what they might think) - maybe 10 all told. But it is good to love the few that I do.
A really nice guy dropped off a cooler full of deer meat this morning, Thanks. The larder would have been kind of bare in about four days. People don't know what it is like to go from $80,000 a year down to $40,000 a year in one day, with no hope of that changing any time soon, and it lasting and lasting and lasting for over two years as they wait for some kind of resolution that some bureaucracy is holding up to justify their paychecks. People don't know what its like to watch someone who used to be active and intelligent and downright funny slowly slip away, mentally and physically. And I am not normally a complainer, so most people don't know what my days are really like. Anymore, I just look for peace and quiet; my house a sheltering cave of silence except for the omnipresent TV sounds and pictures that keep someone else's brain synapses firing. (I hate most TV, aside from football and the hundreds of movies that I have recorded.)
So a restful and happy Thanksgiving week draws to a close, and a good thing too - because starting tomorrow all hell breaks loose and the Christmas rush inspires everyone to get together, call meetings, get things DONE before the holidays and New Year. Most of it doesn't matter, is as artificial as the plastic picks that adorn my handmade wreath; and I can't wait for the yearly hysteria to be over again.
Friday, November 23, 2007
Well, here it is, Black Friday, and all of the stupid people are slavering to get out and buy, buy, buy!
Thanks for keeping the economy high, thanks for proving that all of the anger and angst against the Chinese workers and American companies for poisoning our kids and dogs is silly and unfounded, thanks for proving that the gummint people are right - Americans are idiot sheep who have to be herded and led to an opinion.
Yesterday I was offered a job as moderator on one of the blogs I frequent. Apparently my consistency and ability to communicate, as well as my unemotional comments, has earned the higher-ups' respect. This is always the way. People are so impressed by someone who actually thinks and reasons that they want them to help them out, do things for them, take some of their burden. Yawn.
You can see by the comment on "Emotional Vampires" that I was chosen to do a survey for some college eggheads on blogging. As most people, the questions revealed their preformed prejudices on blogs. Apparently they seem to think that bloggers are lonely isolated people who are maybe just a little mentally unstable.
I wish I was lonely. I wish I was isolated. I wish I had mental instability as an excuse. The problem is that I see peoples' machinations, their manipulations, their ignorance, their simplicity and openmouthed gullibility, as so clearly evident that sometimes it burns the forefront of my brain and I don't want to look into the light any more. I am so tired of watching so many folk stumble around with idiot grins on their faces and open hands and arms, while the wolves among us manipulate and cut and slash without ever being noticed or commented upon. The wolves aren't really that bad - after all, aren't they polite and aren't they smiling? Of course they are, you bloody ignorant morons. Why wouldn't they be, when you will sacrifice your own children, homes, families, and lives to them; when the whole source of your existence is made up of your pleasant job, your too-expensive home and car, and insisting that everyone will love and respect you dependent on what you buy for them?
I had a dear friend once whose calling was so noble - to defeat the evil amongst us. He was a brave hero, slashing away at the wolves, defeating them all one by one, and everyone was amazed at him and loved him. He could have gone ever higher, and actually told me he wanted to - not to limit his victories to local ones, but to take on the world! He was strong and beautiful and incorruptible, and literally his aura glowed with a golden light that I had never before seen around any human being. A small minded woman, who could not see what was before her, only that it did not satisfy her needs, casually destroyed him. Other manipulating and eviscerating women followed, and he became like Mark Antony - a strong victorious warrior brought down by a woman. Now his aura is dark blue, with occasional flashes of green when he struggles to hold his head up once more. He is finished. His purpose gone, his abilities dulled, his desires banked; his hands, that once closed over the twin flaming sword hilts of justice and truth, now lie open and sapped by simpering women who bank on his past glory for their own empowerment. The hero is dead, and the wolves gather to feast on his bones.
Meanwhile, the frenzied sheep run from store to store, maxing out their credit cards, hoping in vain hope to find the one perfect gift that will buy them the love they so desperately desire. Skin bags of meaningless emotion and superficial desires, they quickly forget the heroes among us, and move on to the next wonderful bargain, pretending that the wolves do not exist - as long as they do not gaze directly into their yellow eyes.
Tuesday, November 6, 2007
for the emotional vampires to start clinging to our throats.
Seems like every holiday, they come out of the woodwork like palmetto bugs. You know who I mean - those creatures whose lives center solely around their needs, their wants, their desires; the people who cannot live without Sturm und Drang, violent highs, achingly miserable lows, and all of everyone's attention solely on them. No, they are not bipolars - that's a medical condition. This vampirism is a purposeful, conscious choice by people who will never get enough love, enough attention, from anyone at any time.
They will take on any affliction you can name to get attention. They will even harm themselves to get it. They accept no responsibility for the things they've done in their lives - it's always someone else's fault. And Thanksgiving and Christmas brings them out like maggots to the feast - because people are kinder, try to be more caring and better caretakers, better people, this time of year.
You can tell them by how they treat people who have helped them, over and over again, in the past and who are wise to them. They are supercilious, rude, snide, critical behind their backs - but have that swelteringly sweet smile of phony concern and affection on their faces when their knowledgeable enemy comes close. They talk down to the very people who boosted them up when they said that they needed help - and insult them in such winning ways in public!
They especially love to fawn over their current victim in public, humiliating her/him by their artificial and simpering attention, showing everyone and all concerned that they 'own' this victim, making a fool out of him or her. Other people are two-dimensional to them - past lovers, current victims, even their own children. They are not real people, only subjects to be manipulated, and the vampires (although they proclaim their passions loudly) feel nothing for them nor the damage that they cause them. All people to them are merely past or future victims, nothing more.
Meanwhile, their latest victim gives them everything they require (at the moment) - attention, money, prestige, whatever - until they are used up, drained bloodless and emotionless by the vampire that will not release them. Then the vampire kicks them to the curb, laughs in their faces, and goes in search of another victim - whom they have usually already lined up long before draining their latest. And the cycle begins again.
You can't tell a victim s/he IS a victim when her/his blood is being drained; oh, no! S/he will deny it vehemently and hate you for it. All you can do is wait until the vampire finishes with them and moves on - then a rapid transfusion of affection and concern, and even finances, will stabilize them. Unfortunately, unless they learn to break the cycle, they will become victimized again and again. Their own insecurities lead them to need to be victims just as the vampires need to suck them dry. And the cycle repeats... until individuals make choices to not be victims, doormats, ever again.
Do not feed the vampires.
Monday, November 5, 2007
Some of the Realtors are shrill and scared, others want to know what buyers are out there, what they are looking for, what they can do to make their jobs more efficient and less abrasive. One realtor says she feels like a mongrel dog who has been rolled in dung and then shoved into a fancy dress garden party - she says that now Realtors are even less popular than lawyers!
I don't see why. Anyone with a brain had to see it coming. Didn't they? The hysteria, the suddenness of the predatory lenders popping up everywhere, the banks bending over backwards to give loans that they, in the past, would have refused to even consider before the 'client' walked in the door, the home prices going up, not every six months, but every month, every week, in the same neighborhood - didn't it remind anyone else of the Tulip hysteria of long ago?
Probably not. And probably no one reading this even knows what I'm talking about - when one tulip bulb went for $50,000, and people beggared themselves to own tulip bulbs - even one or two - because they were so beautiful, so popular, such a great investment! Probably no one reading this remembers the great Gold Rush of the early 1980's, either - when everyone with an extra $500 was buying gold Krugerrands. I have an old friend who will not speak to me anymore, because he made fun of me for not spending every last dime I had (as he did) on gold - and then when the market went bust, I used to call him and say, "So, Ken, how's your Krugerrands?" Sigh. No real loss. Stupid is as stupid does.
What kills me is how it happens over and over again, how many damfools fall for it, how many throw away their lives and futures on hysterical and ill-thought-out plans then expect the government to bail them out, or want to blame everyone including the people who took advantage of them, for their own basic stupidity.
The people who make the most money in their lives, and the people who survive hysterical and stupid frenzies, are the ones who just plug along, only buying what they need, only spending what they can afford, and not worrying about what other people think. They may not be millionaires, but they won't lose their shirts or their homes because they have no idea how money works - or how the politicians play them. And they won't go into old age sending psychics thousands, or scam artists millions, demanding what they feel that they deserve - a handout - and getting what they deserve - robbed blind. If we would just stop bailing these people out, time and again, Darwin would work at last and we would stop breeding stupidity into each generation.
Say, I've got some great land in Baja California. Wanna buy in?
Sunday, November 4, 2007
One of my favorite places is a forum on self-sufficiency. These are not leftovers from the Y2K scare, or escapees from the tinfoil hat club. OK, some of them are. But most are people who share ideas on how to be truly self-sufficient; everything from 'loading their own' to the best chickens for egg and meat production. We have participants from Portugal, even the Netherlands, who talk about what they are trying to do. It is a happy place, a quiet and serene place, where we can talk about not just what they do but why they do it - their political, social, and spiritual beliefs as well as their day-to-day struggles.
Some of them are 'closet' survivalists - they have computers at home (that are run on solar or generator electricity, and transmit via satellite) where they telecommute to work, or they go to work in cities while their homes are very rural. Some are diehard 'shackers' - haven't worked in a paying job for years; they make their money off of their farmsteads by cutting wood, selling eggs and meat, plowing/cutting/logging/grading other peoples' properties, doing the things that most folk haven't the time or inclination to do.
We cheered when Deberosa got her first Dexter cattle; she gives us updates on what they do and how easy they are to care for. We debate the pros and cons of different breeds of chickens, cattle, horses, and goats. We talk about making soap, cheese, butter, and even wine. We
share contacts of where from to order the best cages, seeds, churns, milking equipment, tractor parts.
We talk about SHTF and TEOTWAWKI scenarios, discuss politics and candidates and theology and religion with calm respect and equal passion. If some individual posts a long and involved diatribe about paranoid tinfoil hat scenarios, we politely ignore it. But it is evident that the group feels that something is wrong in the world, and they just want to step away from the violence, the illegal immigration, the gangs, the terrorism, the passionate and divisive topics that they see as being promoted mainly on purpose to cause events to happen - much like the magician who waves his right hand while performing legerdemain with his left.
There is a whole undercurrent of people who are quietly and steadily working toward survival of almost anything - not fearfully or in a panic, but calmly and even happily stepping back and away from violence and upheaval.
Saturday, November 3, 2007
I went to Publix today to get my Thanksgiving stuff. I'd already baked 8 dozen butterscotch/pecan/oatmeal cookies this morning, and a pork butt was sitting in the oven while two loads of laundry were busily working away.
Everyone was rushing around pushing each other out of the way, shoving past and in front of each other. So... I walked. I held doors. I was soft spoken and polite and careful and even made nice comments to people - who were obviously completely floored. Apparently Saturday is the day to speed through grocery stores and parking lots so that one can bustle home again.
I was thinking...
There is a woman I know who always brags about her cooking; bakes and cooks and treats everyone to everything imaginable. Yet I have always found her food particularly tasteless and store-bought-flavored. The gentle nuances of basil or feta are apparently an unopened book to her. Dry and crusty are adjectives that come to mind when I think about her baked goods. Yet I would never try to compete with her, far less enlighten her, in her little world of make believe. She has no idea that people are simply being polite.She brags about her canned and packaged throw-togethers like they were truly remarkable creations, not even bothering to throw in a little real butter instead of the tasteless spreads or empty fat of shortening.
A friend of mine always says. "You can COOK?" in that incredulous voice. Yes I can. I've been cooking from scratch since I was 10, and picked out my mother's new stove when I was 12, because I was the one who knew how to use it. In our house, it was either learn to cook - or eat grossly unpalatable mush. Besides, cooking from scratch saves a ton of money, adds delicate flavors, and increases vitamin uptake - the reason we are supposed to eat to begin with. I simply don't ram my productions down everyone's throats - partly because getting it out the door before it's eaten is a challenge.
So as I was watching people bustling to and fro, trying to pick out this frozen pie or that one, or debating the pros and cons of this canned food or that, I thought about how these folks would suffer if there were no more microwaves or instant everything, or no fast food drive thrus. It made me quietly sad. So I bought two new window basil plants to cheer me up.
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
Some people with an agenda have started in again and it pisses me off. In a very nasty blog, they lie about two very good friends of mine, saying they are sleeping together.
I admit to being mean and nasty, but the truth is the truth and I tell it. To purposefully lie and insinuate about two very nice Christian people, to try to destroy their lives and marriages solely for political or personal gain, is reprehensible. Disgusting.
I have some very good friends with whom I swap emails and IMs constantly. Some of these are vents, some of these are jokes, and some of both can get, well, filthy, depending on our moods. One particular friend and I rarely see each other in person; so when we do, we chatter endlessly about everything, our heads close together and giggling like schoolkids. Do we love each other? You bet we do! Do we tease each other? Oh, Yeah! Do we respect each other, who we are, and what we do? Absolutely. Would we ever cross "the line" and make something fun and crazy and affectionate into something more? NEVER. He is one of the handsomest men I've ever met, intelligent, funny, educated, engaging, and kindhearted to a fault. BUT - we each know each other well enough to know that if we ever DID make the mistake of getting sexual, we'd probably kill each other. We'd lose that mutual respect, that affection, that shared fun and craziness, not to mention our lifeplans that have nothing to do with each other. It ain't worth it. Even my VSO (Very Significant Other) understands two things about me - that he is not my be-all and end-all for companionship, that I need friends - and that I relate far better to males than to females, because it was my father who raised me. He likes my friends, and he likes me having them, and he expects me to indulge in those friendships without damaging our own. Neither of us have jealousy where outside friends are concerned - we have our own lives as well as our shared one. Intelligent adults know this, respect this, about each other.
Men and women can be friends, can share things - and the closer they are, the more experiences they have in common, the more they will share. But that doesn't mean automatically that they are having sex. Anyone who thinks that is, simply, a pervert without a real sex life, or any sort of real life at all. Or just some miserable jerkoff with an agenda to lie, to hurt others, solely to promote themselves - and that is the most miserable and useless, cowardly bastard of all.
What REALLY pisses me off about it is that one of the behind-the-scenes posters publicly claims to be an upstanding member of the community - but thinks that everyone has forgotten not only his, but his current wife's, well-known and easily-researched FACTUAL history. Guess again. Those who live in glass houses don't need to even be throwing spitballs at other folks' suspected activities, when their own are soooo well documented and known.
Sunday, October 28, 2007
The lupus strikes without warning, too; for weeks I'll be going along, slamming into and thru things like always, walking, talking, bustling from here to there, never still - and then suddenly I feel like I have the 'flu, an all-over body fever, muscle aches and pains, and the internal disruption that makes it impossible to eat, and the lesion starts to bleed embarrassingly - and I have to hide it all and keep going. Too much to do, and I have PLANS! I cannot stop just because I hurt and am hungry. The illegal "treatment" - that the producer has to call a "vitamin supplement" in this country because of the FDA, even though it has gone through many clinical overseas studies and passed with flying colors - helps me maintain my frenetic pace, although just barely. Still, it's better than it was when I was taking nothing at all - and FAR better than steroids, the "approved" treatment in the US. The steroids made me so weak and sick that I hated being alive yet unable to DO.
The spinach has leapt up out of the soil the past couple of days; all of that rain was a big help. The collards, cabbage, and the broccoli are really booming too, but the lettuce is practically non-existent. Apparently the ferals like it too much; so young and tender and juicy! I can't wait to start eating my spinach; I do love it so, raw or cooked or even braised. Looks like I may have enough of a crop to can and freeze this year. This one's seed packet says it only takes 30 days to get to size, and I'm counting them down! The new navel orange trees look GREAT; but I put them in containers so that they could be moved either inside or into the greenhouse when it really starts to get cold.
I am resting now... too busy this past week, and must prepare for next week, which will be twice as intense.
Wednesday, October 24, 2007
It's an ack-cel-er-a-shun lane, moron! The car three cars ahead of me pulls verrry slowly to the end of it... and stops. OK, there's traffic coming. When the traffic clears, the first car starts to go, and we all start to merge (there's FIVE of us now) and then, the first car slams on his brakes. Apparently the sight of all of those headlights in a neat line behind him, merging together like a rehearsed ballet, scared him! We nearly had a pileup; then we all pulled out and passed the moron.
I call and ask the director of one of my projects if the newspaper reporter was called to take pictures of the $300,000 check we got for our project; yup, she was called, she just didn't show up. Two months after this reporter gushes that all the stories about this project receive priority, she's a no-show. Yup. I wonder if this reporter knows that what she's REALLY saying behind everyone's backs is getting immediately reported to our faces. She will. And not everyone is as stupid as she thinks.
I called a member of my staff to get some more information; as always, he was quick and responsive and I got what I needed immediately. This is good. Tomorrow I have a meeting with some people... it seems that twenty people are involved in a very expensive project, and one selfish arrogant individual wants to put the whole project in the toilet unless everyone follows her 1950's ideas and uses her best friends to do the work, etc. Not gonna happen, and that meeting tomorrow will clinch that.
I know I sound like a vindictive bitch. I'd like to say that I'm not. But I get sooooo pissed at people whom I treat gently, honestly, kindly, and with respect, who turn on me like snakes and knife me when I am trying my best to be nice to them and help them. One time lying to me is all it takes to make an enemy out of what could have been a fast and forever friend. I can excuse almost anything - gross ignorance, foolishness, even the occasional spasm of indiscretion - because I understand that people are human and sometimes we all go a little crazy. But to baldfaced lie to me for no reason - or to purposely try to hurt people whom they may never have even met, or who have never intended them any harm, just for their own self-gratification, self-promotion, or greedy grasping groping gripes with the whole world or their mommy or daddy who abused them - THAT will turn me into a vicious slavering bloodthirsty bitch. I sup my revenge cold, and with a long spoon. And I always get my revenge - whether it's causing someone to lose their job, or causing extreme and complete public humiliation, or even cutting off and leaving that moron at the head of the merging traffic lane (it says YIELD, not SURRENDER!) fuming at the next red light.
It gives me such visceral pleasure to sink my claws into someone's arrogant, supercilious, self-righteous, twisted little soul and to suck the last drop of blood out of it.
Sunday, October 7, 2007
Yes, I have seen what it does to people. Two dear friends have had it. One lived, one died. The one who lived "only" had skin cancer. Because of this, he fusses at me all of the time for smoking. I know he means well. I know he loves me and doesn't want me to die a painful death as did his mother. I love him for that. But...
My other friend who died from it was a strong, vibrant, bullheaded woman. She and I had both agreed that we would never, ever, take chemo for the disease, if we came down with it. We had worked on many patients who died a slow lingering death, and that was not for us. No way! We would put up with it as long as we could, and when the pain got too bad, we would put ourselves out of our own misery. No muss, no fuss, no machines and tubes, or hair loss and throwing up. We were going to live as long as we were supposed to, then die with dignity, class, and style.
But unfortunately it didn't work out that way for her. Her family didn't want to lose her. They could not be strong without her. They begged with her, pleaded with her, argued with her. And she gave in.
She went thru the chemo and all those hospital and doctor visits. She went thru the expense. Her family beggared themselves (of course they were proud to do it) but that was not what she wanted. Finally, when she died, I could not go to see her at the end. And she understood. I wasn't mad at her - that would be silly. But I didn't want to see her like she had become - the way we had both agreed that we would never want anyone to see us. Weak and helpless, defenseless and useless.
So no I don't fear cancer. I simply fear that people will try to enforce their will on me when I am at my weakest, and that I too will lose my resolve and give in. And - I never give in.
Death I do not fear so much any more, either. Death when I was a young mother, raising a family, with responsibilities and concerns, was a terrifying thought. What if? Who would? How could?
But now it is just something that will eventually happen. I don't want it to be painful, of course - I fear pain more than I fear death. I know it is a stepping stone into another universe, another path. I don't know what that path will be of course - and I am not like the proselytizing holy rollers who think that heaven is a place where we play harps and sing to God, and hell is a place of eternal fires. Personally, if God is that weak-minded and needy, or has such a desperate, punitive need to punish in such a way for infractions, then He is not my God. If he doesn't have something for me to do - even if it is just to sleep! - I will be eternally pissed. It just doesn't seem practical - and I believe in a practical God.
But I'm not too worried about the whole cancer thing. Mostly because my whole family has smoked and drank and been rowdy and slammed their way through life, fighting and struggling and kicking and screaming... and not one has ever died of cancer. One aunt (for whom I'm named! Fancy that!) died in a mental institution. Aunt Charlotte took care of Grandma til she died, then just drifted away... "pined away" they used to call it. The rest all died of... well, problems resulting from drink and their livers. So I watch what I drink - my liver has already regenerated once, and I don't want to go through THAT again! - and drive hard, push harder.
But I may quit smoking yet... not just because it is getting too expensive, but because I plan very soon on not having the stress in my life that started me, and keeps me, smoking. Life is too short to waste it wrapped around a cigarette. When I do quit, though, I'll do it like I do everything else. By myself, on my own, and without applause, attention, and hoopla.
You know what bothers me? Is that people will argue endlessly about her qualifications as well as their visceral reactions to her - but never - never! - see a problem with the above video. Is it because
1) They don't understand it?
2) They think it is OK? or
3) They are simply mouth-breathing, emotion-driven morons who will follow any hype without ever utilizing critical thinking or reason to make their evaluations?
Someone writes something I agree with, I read it, and then... I decide to write them and compliment them.
The next damned thing that happens is that they write me and ask me to speak at a meeting!
Except this time.. the guy forwarded my post to 500 people, and one of THEM asked me to come and speak - to the 500 people!
Know what? I hate public speaking. I am really a very shy and quiet person in my home life. I like being in my yard. I like reading volumes of books. I like sewing and crafting and cooking. I like playing with my animals. That's pretty much it. If all of the TV stations went out, all of the computers went out, tomorrow, I could sit happily and write stuff like I used to - longhand on a legal pad. And never answer the phone, never talk to anyone. Sigh.
I don't get what people see in the whole "power" thing. I don't want to direct. I don't want to control. I don't really give a damn what other people do - as long as they don't bother me. I don't mind helping people occasionally - but those that REQUIRE endless help - and most of 'em do! - I would prefer never to meet.
My best friend says he wants to be a hermit. I laugh at him all the time. He could never be a hermit - he likes bright lights and being around people, being the center of attention. I don't. I could so easily disappear and never be heard from again, and fade with barely a ripple. I don't care where my name is on the brass plaques - or if it is there at all. I know full well that there will always be a bulldozer in the future to tear down the wall where the brass plaque is, or someone to say, "Do YOU remember who that was?" 100 years from now, where I was and who I was will not matter... because no one cares about history or making it any more. They all live in the "now". And that's so obvious because everyone makes the same mistakes, over and over.
So I'll go give my speech, rearrange my schedule, and have several hundred breathless people go "Wow!" and a handful be nasty and critical... and what they say, and what I say, won't matter, because none of them have the balls to grasp the nettle and do the work.
I TOLD them so. Told them and told them.
Every 10 years it happens. Some arrogant pissant of an elected official decides he (or she, or they) wants to nannyize their constituents. THEY know what's best for people. THEY are going to direct their lives. THEY are in charge, and it is up to the rest of the sheeple to fall in line, or suffer the consequences.
So they make some rule that suits them - and tell everyone publicly, oh, NO, we won't demand enforcement - this is just for the really really bad people out there who ruin it for everyone else. We would NEVER ask Law Enforcement to write tickets. We would NEVER fine people - just the ones with too much of what we don't like. We Don't want to hurt the decent citizens - just the habitual offenders.
Then, of course, the lowlifes drive around and call enforcement privately, demanding strict enforcement of the 'suggestions' they made. Because they are elected officials, they think that they are supreme - and exempt. They even call the public staff to do things on their private property, seeing nothing wrong with, say, a fire department arial called to trim their trees, or a public works crew coming to clean up their yard, or an engineering staff coming out to shoot the grades on their private property. One of the perks of the job... isn't it? Oh, and by the way, heaven forbid if the staff writes up a friend of THEIRS. That isn't what they meant at all by 'enforcement'.
That's why constituents get lawyers. That's why people get voted out of office. And that's why I got a National Wildlife Habitat certification for my yard 10 years ago. Because these small-minded, small-perspective, Liberal-arts-educated, homegrown morons think that a highly sanitized, highly fertilized, highly irrigated, low-cut swath of green weed that they call 'grass' is more environmentally correct than a morass of flowers and trees and bushes that shelter and feed the wildlife that eats the bugs that suck their blood. Because some people think that taking the law under their own interpretations, for their own personal satisfaction and visceral gratification of their own self-importance, is the way things are supposed to be done... "for the greater good".
Wednesday, October 3, 2007
You see, Mark has decided that the judges in SC Worker's Comp cases are giving away too much state money. He wants it to stop. He wants to review all of the cases adjudicated for Worker's Comp. Not only is this a blatant violation of the separation of the Executive and Judicial branches of government, a slap in the face to the Constitution - it has slowed down the WC caseload to a standstill. Why do I care?
For that, I have to tell you a little story. Once upon a time, there was a man who had worked since he was 14. He didn't have a high school diploma/GED until he was 25. Yet he worked his way up in the public service - first the Air Force, then the fire service, then as a paramedic - to become a highly respected practitioner in his field. He saved many lives. He learned his trade well. And - he loved doing it.
One day, though, he got hurt at work. It took a year to find a doctor under Worker's Comp to even figure out what had happened. By the time the doctor did the surgery, he literally had to use a crowbar to pry the paramedic's spine apart - that was how badly it had been crushed. But the doctor put in a platinum cage, and some cadaver's bones, and pieced the paramedic's spine together. The paramedic - after another half a year - went back to the work he loved.
Then he fell. Another year of fighting doctors and Worker's Comp to get the treatment, even the diagnosis, he needed. Every doctor denied that he had a broken hip. His muscles atrophied. He was in extreme pain. Once again, he found a doctor to 'fix' him. Surprise! The surgery revealed that he had a 1-inch piece of bone from the break, revolving around in his hip socket. By that time, of course, he was a cripple. A year after the surgery, he is still on timed-release morphine as well as oxycontin. He cannot work - he cannot stay awake, most of the time. He can barely walk. He is deteriorating rapidly. His employer finally allowed him his disability pension. Social Security (as they do everyone, of course) will not give him one penny; he is on his third appeal. And still Worker's Comp not only insists that he is faking, but that he must go back to work!
27 years of saving lives in the Fire Departments and Emergency Medical Services of this state, and the state wants to kick him to the curb and tell him he's faking. A guy who has worked his whole life, usually two and three jobs at a time, and still took the time to raise a family, support a wife, and even create artistry in fiberglas and wood... in his 'spare' time. A guy who doesn't know what to do with himself, who is physically and mentally deteriorating, who would do anything to be free of pain and work again... but can't.
And Governor Mark Sanford thinks he needs to review these cases because Worker's Comp is giving away too much money?
Bite me, Mark. Go back to your million-dollar estate in Beaufort County, and call the Air Station and complain because the jets driven by 'our boys' are making too much noise for your guests to enjoy themselves. But call me, a little working-class, no-account constituent first - so I can come over and kick your ass. Your arrogant bourgeois sorry ass.
We have become led by the very bourgeoisie whom our ancestors left Europe to avoid. The nouveau riche, the arrogant and haughty, the stupid and breathlessly crass; those who have no class but think that the fact that they have money supersedes that little distinction.
Hillary Clinton is a prime example of this group. Some examples of her sensitivity, sincerity, and gentle understanding and consideration of people:
"Where is the G-damn f***ing flag? I want the G-damn f***ing flag up
every f***ing morning at f***ing sunrise."
-From the book "Inside The White House" by Ronald Kessler, p. 244 -
Hillary to the staff at the Arkansas Governor's mansion on Labor Day, 1991
"You sold out, you mother f***er! You sold out!"
-From the book "Inside" by Joseph Califano, p. 213 - Hillary yelling at a Democrat lawyer.
"F**k off! It's enough that I have to see you shit-kickers every day,
I'm not going to talk to you too!! Just do your G*damn job and keep your
-From the book "American Evita" by Christopher Anderson, p. 90 - Hillary
To her State Trooper bodyguards after one of them greeted her with "Good
"You f** *ing idiot"
-From the book "Crossfire" p. 84 - Hillary to a State Trooper who was
driving her to an event.
"If you want to remain on this detail, get your f***ing ass over here and
grab those bags!"
-From the book "The Firs t Partner" p. 259 - Hillary to a Secret Service
Agent who was reluctant to carry her luggage because he wanted to keep his
hands free in case of an incident.
"Get f***ed! Get the f**k out of my way!!! Get out of my face!!!"
-From the book "Hillary's Scheme" p. 89 - Hillary's various comments to
her Secret Service detail agents.)
"Stay the f**k back, stay the f**k away from me! Don't come within 10
yards of me, or else! Just f**king do as I say, Ok ay!!!?"
-From the book "Unlimited Access", by Clinton FBI Agent in Charge, Gary
Aldrige, p. 139 - Hillary screaming at her Secret Service detail
"Where's the miserable c*ck sucker?"
-From the book "The Truth About Hillary" by Edward Klein, p. 5 -
Hillary shouting at a Secret Service officer
"Put this on the ground! I left my sunglasses in the limo. I need those
sunglasses. We need to go back!"
-From the book "Dereliction of Duty" p . 71-72 - Hillary to Marine One
helicopter pilot to turn back while en route to Air Force One.
"Son of a bitch."
-From the book "American Evita" by Christopher Anderson, p. 259 -
Hillary's opinion of President George W. Bush when she found out he
secretly visited Iraq just days before her highly publicized trip to Iraq.
"What are you doing inviting these people into my home? These people are
our enemies! They are trying to destroy us!"
-From the book "The Survivor" by John Harris, p. 99 - Hillary screaming
to an aide, when she found out that some Republicans had been invited to the
Clinton White House
"Come on Bill, put your dick up! You can't f**k her here!!"
-From the book "Inside The White House" by Ronald Kessler, p. 243 -
Hillary to Gov. Clinton when she spots him talking with an attractive female
at an Arkansas political rally.
" You know, I'm going to start thanking the woman who cleans the restroom in
the building I work in. I'm going to start thinking of her as a human
being" - Hillary Clinton
-From the book "The Case Against Hillary Clinton" by Peggy Noonan, p. 55
"We just can't trust the American people to make those types of
choices.... Government has to make those choices for people "
-From the book "I've Always Been A Yankee Fan" by Thomas D. Kuiper, p.
20 - Hillary to Rep. Dennis Hasert in 1993 discussing her expensive,
disastrous taxpayer-funded health care plan.
"I am a fan of the social policies that you find in Europe" Hillary in
-From the book "I've Always Been A Yankee Fan" by Thomas D. Kuiper, p.6
But of course, there's more - and this explains why she has so much affection from 'certain classes"... this is from a SC Highway Patrolman who was pressed into duty for security. This is straight from the cop's mouth - the joys of sitting down to meals with 'small town, stupid' public servants.
She and Buddy Bill used to come to Hilton Head Island every single Christmas Season for "The Renaissance". While Bill spent his evenings trying to avoid his Secret Service escort, Hillary spent hers, well...
"I was standing at the end of the corridor guarding the elevator on the Presidential floor. it was about 10:00 at night. The elevator door slid open, and standing there was a - I guess it was a woman. She looked like a diesel dyke - work boots, jeans, flannel shirt. I politely told the woman that she did not have access to this floor, that it was a secure area. While I was explaining this to the woman, the door to the Presidential suite opened. There stood Mrs. Clinton, in a see-through nightgown. "Let her pass, she's with me," said Mrs. Clinton. They went into the suite and closed the door. For the rest of my shift, neither came out."
You see, it's OK for a rich and famous First Lady to have a marriage that is a "blind" or a "cover", and to even write about her noble ability to forgive her husband's transgressions in a book. It is OK for her to hide in the closet. But it isn't OK for an Idaho elected, married official to try to go to the bathroom in a public place with an overzealous cop, and to try to avoid attention to a 'crime' that legally wasn't even a crime.
And all the morons buy into this crap.
Tuesday, October 2, 2007
Alright, I know I'm brilliant. Maybe not in the grand scheme of things; but in a general sense, I'm a fracking genius, apparently.
Why don't some people - okay, most people! - get it?
"It" is - oh, I dunno, life, and practicalities, and simple common sense to survive.
First you have one little virginal idiot. He's Catholic - devout - and so's his wife. They have their first baby on the way, and are looking to buy a house. So I recommend this great antibellum-style home; run down a little, sure, needs some help - but five bedrooms, huge rooms, formal dining room, a front porch to die for, a three car garage with a loft apartment, on an acre in a small downtown mainstreet - for $40,000. With $60,000 and a few friends, he can insulate and replumb and rewire this beast. So what does he do? Buys a little two bedroom, crackerjack box, cookie-cutter home in a fancy schmancy brannew neighborhood, for $160,000. The first thing that happens - he can't get his sprinkler system in the yard to work. He has to hire someone to come out and look at it - turns out the illiterate and unsupervised Mexicans have hammered in his sprinkler heads - upside down. Second thing that happens, his garage. Falls. Off. Yes, Falls Freaking OFF the house! Five years later, he's whining - he doesn't have room with the third baby on the way! He has to moooove! But the bottom has fallen out of the market and he can't. His cute and classy neighborhood has been undersold to a 'lesser element'. The cowards and miscreants that 'planned' his area development have let all manner of junk - residential and commercial - crowd into his once-tranquil space. Wanna know whose fault it is? All those people who moved here - after he did!
Second you have all of these sheeple who were told by every shyster real-estate agent, every predatory lender in a convertible, every advertisement on "reality TV" shows, that they too, not only "deserve" a home, but they can afford one, too, by golly! So all of these morons who have never even been able to balance a checkbook swallow this crap; hook line and sunken living room. They get balloon mortgages and adjustable rate mortgages, and then borrow money on their house to buy a brannew car, too! Whooo Hooo! We're rich, look what we got! When the piper comes calling, all of these little idiots stand openmouthed, empty-handed, pleading with anyone and everyone to bail them out. And the Federal government does - with all of the tax monies that all of us thinking, intelligent, people have had to send in over the years while we sat quietly in our fixed-rate mortgage homes, building our equity and watching our pennies.
Liberals whimper and whine, and morons and fools never change. But it is always the grownups, the responsible, the intelligent, the quietly frugal ones, who foot the bill for every moron in this area and the rest of the country - not to mention the rest of the world. Why don't these bloodsucking simpletons learn to read and write, take some Eco 101 courses and learn how money works? Why? Because they don't have to, that's why! There'll always be someone to bail the pathetic idiots out - with someone else's money. And - they know it. Don't think for one minute that these ticks don't know that they have to feed off of others to survive - most of them have done it all their lives and don't know any different. And the Federal government is the biggest enabler of these Whine Addicts!
Sunday, September 16, 2007
Well, P___ got arrogant and well-funded, and they denied M Farm admittance to their fundraisers.
Here you have two groups that are ostensibly doing the same thing - and because one is jealous and childish, they want to ban others from doing the same good work!
How ridiculous is that?
And how freaking typical.
It isn't about the abused and neglected dogs any more, it's about personalities and superiority and inferiority complexes running rampant. It's about emotionalism and 'me first'. It's about selfishness and self-promotion. It's about time we stopped getting involved and participating in these silly little temper tantrums.
A friend of mine and I could not attend a fund raiser. So we donated money to the cause. Well, one of the people on the board of the fund raiser, at the fund raiser, made some scathingly nasty comments about why my friend didn't attend the fund raiser. That group will never see my money again. Ever. Not a penny, not a minute of my time, nothing. They can rot in hell for all I care. A good cause? Maybe. But a good cause run by temperamental manipulative children will never be a 'good cause'. Why waste my time and money on them, when there are so many other good causes out there to support?
Monday, September 10, 2007
Don't you just love it when people post to blogs, using incompetent 'simplified' spellings, abbreviations, and text-messaging icons and substitutions that make no sense, even if you try to read it aloud and puzzle it out?
It's all about geekspeak; people trying to prove their superiority and writing skills by insulting the intelligence of those who can communicate effectively. It all comes from the college liberals who tell their students, "No, you don't have to form an hypothesis, test your theory, scribe your step-by-step notes - just make something up, and everyone will buy into it!" Critical thinking and delving explanations are productions of a slow-moving, too-deep mind. Pounce, slash, and run away!
I of course am more impressed by literary and historical references, thoughtful communications, and understanding. This cannot be accomplished in a 10-second sound bite or a thirty-second commercial. We want everything fast; our impacts, our information, our education, our sensibilities' satisfaction, our personal gratification. Then we can move on to something else, and something else. Then we wonder why we are still so unsatisfied at the end of the day.
Like fast food and instant breakfast, we get no nutrients, nor do we want any from today's literary, scientific, or media worlds. We are fat and spoiled and completely lethargic in our lack of perceptions and conceptions. It takes too long to get an education, to research effectively, to present all sides of a story. Text me when you're free and I'll meet you for sushi, a diet coke, and you can fill my ears and gut alike with instant garbage. My intestines and brains can rot with equal fervor, lose tonal qualities because of a lack of exercise, and atrophy completely away.
Those who suffer from premature ejaculation must be thrilled; they have finally come into their world.
Saturday, September 8, 2007
Or do they just not have any conception of what it is like to be a real vital human being? Or maybe they really are the whole 1950's conception of the simpleminded, simpering, manipulative bitch?
Damned few women I know are anything more than a product of their emotions. They are downright embarrassing. They are afraid of their age. They are afraid of their body weight. They are horrified if a wrinkle shows up on their 32 year old artificially-sunbaked, makeup-caked face.They are afraid of being who and what they are, and terrified of what they could become with a little effort. They cling to sleeplessness, drug addiction, depression, bulimia, hair color, and plastic surgery as well as all manner of new and fantasized diseases to identify themselves. (Creepy crawly leg syndrome? What the hell is that? Get off your ass and walk around the block!)
If they ever are diagnosed with a real and serious disease, they keel over like little rag dolls - "I can't do that anymore. I'm sick." No, you're not, you lazy bitch. You just want someone to live your life for you. You want someone to tell you that you are young and beautiful and still sexually attractive. Well, you might be, to some man who thinks that sexuality is a Barbie doll, or who desperately needs to feel superior to whatever woman he's with. But quite frankly, you are useless in the grand scheme of things and ought to follow through with that long-anticipated suicide attempt. The superficial life that you demand to live is not worth anyone else's expended efforts to keep you happy and satisfied. PS - no one ever will be able to satisfy your ever changing demands or needs, so why should they bother? You got a gold-plated one, you think it is that valuable in trade? Every crackwhore on the street has one, and can use it better and to more advantage than you ever will.
And then there are the self-involved 'mothers' who think that their widdle children have to be coddled and protected - from everything from the boogeyman to that mean teacher that actually wants their little baby to accomplish the simple task of writing a complete, coherent sentence. "Mothers" who demand that everyone in the room must pay attention to their little darlings to the exclusion of all else - and the 'room' could be an opera house, a restaurant, an auditorium, a grocery store, or even someone else's house. "Mothers" who think that their little pigfaced brats are the closest thing to a prophet or a bar of gold. Until the drifty liftschitz that they have lovingly caressed and fussed over becomes a serial killer - then they are all over the media, crying, "What happened? It must have been his peer group/society/the mean cops/the mean second grade teacher/the air/water/dirt around our house..." If you can't smack your kids more often, trust them less, and be suspicious of them, you deserve to be incarcerated, restricted to bread and water, and never allowed to communicate with either children or adults except through a steel partition.
Women have become so immersed in soap operas like Sex in the City and Seinfeld, commercials, and phony reality-TV shows that they have forgotten what real womanhood is about - it's about steadily growing in both mind and spirit throughout their lives, never letting anyone control or dictate to them, and never ever letting anything stop them from getting what they desire. You know, like men - only stronger, smarter, and less gullible.
Men are not toys, tools, superiors nor inferiors - they are just men - either useful partners or useless superficial drones, slavering over the next model, hiding their Don Juan tendencies and latent homosexuality under their burgeoning bellies or behind their seductive smiles. Either earn and keep a partner who respects you, and whom you can respect, or kick 'em to the curb like the mangy dogs they are. Don't run after them whimpering, or seduce them and then sneer craftily while you rifle their pockets and credit cards - that makes you nothing better than the aforementioned crackwhore, and just as deserving of respect.
God didn't create blogging, neither did Al Gore nor Bill Gates. If any one of them had, they would have probably put their own signature on it - God's quite different from alBore or BGates. What bugs me is that, like God's creation of the tongue and fingers, any one with a computer can spout off on any subject, rally anyone to any cause, promote to any group any stupidity or fallacy - and the group that reads it will react.
The most recent stupidity is of course the mass blogworld hysteria over the Ron Paul campaign. The biggest mistake Ron Paul ever made was to trust in his ignorant Libertarian buddies to run his "grassroots" campaign. By doing so, he has been abandoned by his longtime people. He has shown his inability to pick a good and forceful Cabinet if by some fluke he ever gets the Presidency, by allowing his emotions to supersede his intelligence and practicality. He has kicked to the curb people who could have, would have helped him unstintingly, by his believing in his ripoff, self-promulgating Libertarian buddies' contention that an Internet grassroots campaign can and will work! - Ignoring the fact that not one of them has ever run a viable campaign nor ever gotten anyone elected, especially in a hotly contested race.
Paul supporters dance at the prospect of "40,000 volunteers!" not understanding that that is not even 10%, no, not one percent, of the voting public. Most of the campaign's "volunteers" are using the campaign to promote their own tinfoil hat ideas and ideals - attaching every and any conspiracy theory to it like parasitical fleas to a dog. One flea, ten fleas, even twenty fleas will not take down a dog - but hundreds will poison his blood and make him susceptible to any and every infection. And so this campaign will slaughter itself. Meanwhile, the fleas will fall off the dog in amazement that it died, and immediately attach themselves to the next gullible fool who does not prevent against them, and the next, and the next. The Big Fleas - those who are taking the campaign money and lining their own pockets with it - will go on to the next losing campaign, bragging about their 'accomplishments' on this one, and blaming everyone but themselves for their own incompetence and inability to get Ron Paul elected. The Home office hangs up on or is rude to callers. And Paul is oblivious, ignoring even his longtime friends who have begged him to do something about it.
News Flash - Paul sparked the interest and creativity of a longtime movie producer. This producer had lined up an all day Ron Paul rally on a pier in California - with famous movie and television personalities and names as well as several popular bands who supported Paul to come out and participate in the Rally. Cost to Ron Paul - nothing. What happened? Ron Paul's Election Staff Fleas refused to give the producer a viable date and time for Paul's schedule, and instead demanded that this producer give them the names, addresses, and phone numbers of the famous participants so that they could contact them! That producer gave up on Paul and his campaign in disgust, thanks to the fleas that have attached their parasitical mouths to him.
These fleas are all about handing out pamphlets and attending parades and setting up booths and hanging their signs everywhere, not to mention drowning their like-minded geek-email subscribers in reams of multiply repetitive garbage, advice, and ignorance. Anyone who tries to offer real advice or caution is ignored or roundly criticized. What they are not about - what they do not understand - is that still, six months later, most voters not only do not know about Ron Paul, they do not have any emotion save one about him. Politics, like it or not, is run on emotion. And the only emotion about Ron Paul (that the fleas do not grasp and do not know how to change) is "loudmouth also-ran".
Here is an example of one of the postings of these Ron Paul adherents - a fool who has run eight "campaigns" all on his own for himself - none successful in any way.
"I had my first brush with the law as I push for Ron Paul. I got arrested. Yeah, I was being civilly disobedient by hanging a Ron Paul banner on a railroad trestle. When a city cop rolled up and arrested me. I didn't resist or flee and the time I spent handcuffed in the back of the patrol car gave me time enough to explain why a middle aged teacher with no arrests in his entire life would support Ron for President. Apparently he was moved enough to release me and allow me to avoid an afternoon in the clink, but I still have a $465 dollar fine staring me in the face.
The real problem for me is that I am that "marginal middle class" family man that Ron refers to when he talks about the government spending eating away at the middle class. As a teacher its hard enough to make ends meet. This certainly doesn't help. I expect that my wife and children will detest PB&J before the month is over.
Away, if you happen to know any folks who would like to help out I'd appreciate it. My court date is Monday September, 17th.
I'm just looking for help defraying the cost of the fine. Any little bit will help. Once the fine is paid I'll happily return all extra monies to the donors ... or if they prefer ... I'll buy more paint and hang more signs for Ron."
The poster knew - KNEW! - what the laws were and are. He himself had to follow them when he was running for all of his previous worthless and wasted candidacies. But he is exemplary of the glut of followers of Ron Paul - no class, no talent, no comprehension of how to run a viable campaign - all mouth and no ass. Well, lots of asses. Jackasses.
Their effectiveness is exemplified in one simple fact - Ron Paul could not win the straw poll in his own State of Texas. If you can't win in your own home precinct, home town, or home state, you cannot win. But the Libertarian geniuses all shrieked at how proud they were that he came in third... just as they will when the votes are tallied, Paul is knocked off of the ballot in the primaries, when he comes in third (or fourth, or fifth). Libertarians and their blank-eyed, mouth-breathing ilk don't understand, will never understand, that it isn't a good showing in politics if you don't win.
Sadly, Ron Paul apparently doesn't understand it either. By allowing this to continue, his grassroots campaign has proved one thing and one thing only - that Ron Paul is not leadership, not Presidential, material. Rather than let the country continue to slide slowly down the slippery slope, everyone should vote for Hillary or Obama and let the history of this country come quickly to a violent and completely socialist, nanny closure.