Mollycoddled, They’re YOUR Kids, and a Culinary Milestone

November 15, 2013Tonya Lanthron 2 Comments

I blew coffee out my nose this morning while perusing my coupon circulars!

This reminded me of Benny Hill’s “Therapist” skit. Yes, it is worth it to click on the link to the You Tube video. Especially if you appreciate Benny Hill’s sort of humor as much as I do.

Art may be anal (I know plenty of artistic types who are) but when the word “anal” is found anywhere near the words “breakfast sandwich,” that’s where my culinary curiosity ends.

I get that the creator of this hilariously named morning comestible was meaning to use the word “artisan” without realizing how funny the addition of “al” would make the word appear. I have to wonder why the grocery store’s advertising editor didn’t spy that and substitute a phrase free of such enjoyable double entendre, such as, “Artisan Inspired Breakfast Sandwich” or, “An Artisan’s Breakfast Sandwich.”

Then again most “artisans” are probably smoking a bowl, then scarfing down an organic granola bar and a 20 ounce diet Mountain Dew for breakfast. The artificial food coloring, various other impurities, and caffeine in the diet Mountain Dew are cancelled out by the organic wholesomeness of the granola bar. Or so some people like to think. Just like the two liter of diet Dr. Pepper cancels out the calories in the large stuffed crust supreme pizza you had for dinner. Right.

Large stuffed crust supreme pizza. That sounds good, but I will behave and enjoy my planned evening repast of grilled tilapia, steamed broccoli and penne pasta- with sugarless iced tea.

I would like to know why most parents assume that the state (i.e. government in any form) is responsible for the education of their offspring. The last time I checked, the bare minimum goals of parenting should consist of being sure that one’s offspring becomes potty-trained, literate and gainfully employed, preferably on or before the age of 21.

Perhaps my sentiments verge on violating child labor laws, but it’s no wonder Jimmy is uneducated, unemployed and staying up at all hours playing “World of Warcraft” and “Call of Duty” while still camping out in Mommy’s basement – at age 35. Apparently it’s verboten these days to give one’s freeloading spawn a rousing size 7 enema when he or she richly deserves it. (For those who are wondering what a size 7 enema is, it’s a polite way of referring to me putting my size 7 boot up someone’s ass.)

Kids should have to work. My Dad made me, and I turned out – ah, never mind.

I had many, many grievous failings as a mother. I’m not claiming to be the perfect parent, or even a moderately good one. If I would have been, I would have home-schooled and gotten access to whatever resources I could to make my son some sort of prodigy in something. The only problem with that is I had to (and still have to) work. I didn’t have the luxury of the time and resources to home-school, which is entirely a failure ON ME.

But in spite of him having to endure public school, (I really, really regret that, except for the last 2 years where he actually learned something- in vocational school) somehow my kid ended up being capable of critical thought, fiercely independent, able to support himself and his daughter, and to a degree, his tastes for high faluting German cars. He even ended up with a strong work ethic. Imagine that. Whether that was luck of the draw, or my insistence that he become as independent as possible as early as possible, I’m not sure. It could also be that he inherited my penchant for skepticism, (and a healthy dose of the cynical eye) because he questioned “the system” from day one.

Oh, yes it is. Daily. Right now, constantly.

Kids who are taught critical thinking skills (hint: NOT taught intentionally in public schools, at least not any more) are going to be harder to deal with. They will be disruptive. They will do weird things. They will piss you off. They will be impudent, disrespectful and just plain a thorn in the side. I wanted to disown my son between the ages of 13 and 16 for all his creative behavioral exploits, believe that. They will need swift and sometimes harsh correction. BUT- in the long run- children taught to think critically will mature into confident and capable adults, rather than overgrown, obese children, who become both endless money pits for their parental units to support, and mushy, whiny depositories for whatever drivel they’re spoon fed.

It’s a parent’s responsibility to see that their children not only get an education, but also that they get the critical thinking skills necessary to navigate the world for themselves. The government is NOT responsible for the education of your children, (and they are doing a predictably abysmal job of it,) and as each day passes I trust the public educational system even less than I did when my son was involved in it. Public education is no longer about equipping young people for life and imparting meaningful information and vital skills. Now it’s all about making sure the kiddies know that Heather’s two mommies are just lovely, that gay is OK, and that religious freedom is something everyone has a right to, except of course, Christians.

But a teacher- even a good one who isn’t a union thrall- can’t do squat if Mom and Dad don’t care.

A Blast From the Past, the White Death Arriveth, and Sick Humor

November 12, 2013Tonya Lanthron 2 Comments

It’s hard to believe they let us have metal lunch boxes in elementary school.

It was a far more innocent time, even though I can attest to the fact that a metal lunch box can and will draw blood if someone knocks you in the head with the corner of one of these things. I had a Hair Bear Bunch lunch box for awhile. Those lunch boxes always came with a plastic Thermos that matched the box, too. I think I had Holly Hobbie and Snoopy at one point, though I got new lunch boxes more often than other kids had to. Lunch boxes didn’t survive more than a year or so for most kids, but mine never survived more than a few weeks. I had a hard time keeping people from stealing and/or mutilating mine beyond recognition.

Yes, the Dukes of Hazzard lunch box had a rebel flag on the Thermos. Just think how that flag would fly in a kid’s lunch today!

I probably had a Dukes of Hazzard lunch box at one time. Grandma usually had to find me new lunch boxes, and I ended up with whatever was left or on sale when mine got too badly distressed to use. The worst one I ever ended up with was one with NFL Football on it. It wasn’t easy to find a new lunch box in April, for example, so I had to take what Grandma could get. Grandma bought me quite a few lunch boxes to keep me from getting in trouble at home.

In fourth and fifth grades the kids were allowed to go home for lunch (another thing that is unheard of today) if you lived close, and you got back to school in time to make the lunch recess bell. That was better than eating with the heathens in the school cafeteria for a number of reasons, but I generally went home most days because I could just fix some soup and a sandwich or just forage about at home and eat in peace. I didn’t mind forgoing lunch recess in order to have some peace and quiet.

High school was another culinary adventure. During my freshman year I didn’t dare eat anything prepared at school, because the roaches had taken over the cafeteria. There was always a high risk of getting bug parts (or whole bugs) in your food. The ovens and warmers were ancient as well, so you could get fries that were burnt on the outside and frozen on the inside, depending on where they were sitting on the racks. Prepackaged food was generally safe as long as you could verify that the cellophane had not been violated, but during my freshman year most of my lunch money went toward my coverless it-would-be-porn-if-it-were-illustrated literature collection.

In my high school, the Twinkies were probably the safest item on the menu.

Today I don’t think they allow Twinkies (even though they have been resurrected) in school cafeterias, but that might depend on which school, and whether or not they have been brainwashed by the Michelle Obama campaign to spare the world from childhood obesity. I wonder why there were fewer lard asses back in the day when you could load up on all the candy and soda your heart desired at lunch. Maybe it was because you could only afford one pack of Twinkies versus a whole box.

One side of the argument for food freedom is if you make Twinkies and Ho-Hos and such into forbidden fruit, kids are just going to want more of them. From the middle-aged Mom view I agree that kids should eat a healthy lunch, but from my perspective in the early 1980s, I believed the four food groups were caffeine, nicotine, sugar and grease. You can lead a child to broccoli, and you can warn against the dangers of processed foods, trans fats, refined sugar and corn syrup, but sooner or later they have to decide for themselves that healthy eating is better. Sometimes this realization takes a few years of a diet of Marlboros, coffee, Mickey D’s, Cheetos, and crème horns to get the point across.

This is another reason why: If I can’t be a good example, I might as well serve as a warning.

The White Death Arriveth-

And way too soon, may I add. It won’t stay Arctic cold forever, but it was a bit annoying waking up to having the car encased in 1/2″ of ice. Normally I don’t like to let the car sit and idle and waste gasoline, but the only way you’re getting that ice off the car is to pry your way in the driver’s door, start it up, turn the heat/defrost on full blast, and let it melt from the inside. It would have taken me all morning to try to chip off all that ice.

I think it’s funny to see how many jackwagons forgot how to drive in snow and ice since March. In the city there was next to nothing on the roads because they had been brined and cleared off all night- for about two inches of snow. Then again, if it gets really bad, I have ABS and traction control and I just got new tires, so I am probably better prepared than many.

No, I am leaving it on, thanks!

A Healthy Dose of Irony, Harmony In the Dissonance, and Dennis Rodman

November 6, 2013Tonya Lanthron 2 Comments

Hell, Dick Nixon was a freaking paragon of virtue compared to the current squatter in the Oval Office!

I should have gotten a pic of it, but to my delight, I saw one of these old stickers firmly planted on a Toyota Venza in the Costco parking lot today. I immediately saw the irony and found it hilarious- the way I took it is that Dick Nixon and company would be a damned sight better than the train wreck of a presidential administration that’s currently defiling the White House.

I know we’re in real trouble when I start seeing these on cars:

I bet Jimmy Carter has already sent Obama a heartfelt thank-you card. If he hasn’t, he should. I have a suggestion:

History will have to be kinder to Jimmy Carter after Obama – as well as Clinton, Nixon, LBJ, Harding, and even Woodrow Wilson- after Obama gets done defiling the office.

I love those sappy old Victorian cards.

Just what I always wanted- disembodied hearts- in the mail!

I know I don’t see things the way the rest of the world does most of the time. In the past my alternate perception caused me quite a bit of cognitive dissonance, though as I grow older and ostensibly, wiser, I’m discovering three disturbing truths: I’m OK, the rest of the world is screwed up, and I can’t change that.

It really doesn’t help to know when you’re right if everyone else is hell bent on being wrong. I might try to explain to the lemmings why following everyone else over the cliff is a bad idea, but they’ll dive right over it anyway.

That’s not to say that I’m always right or that I’m infallible. I’m certainly fallible, and I make a fair share of mistakes. The bad part of that is I usually screw up when I go against my better judgment and follow the crowd anyway.

Ultimately history is written not by who was right, but by the winners. Popular opinion may win out today, but in the long run? Hindsight is 20/20.

I find it interesting that one of the big “kid arguments” is, “But Mom, everyone else is doing it!” Just because everyone else is doing it doesn’t make it right or good. Sometimes what the rest of the crowd is doing is funny, though.

When he was 7 or 8 or so, Steve-o begged me and begged me for a Dennis Rodman ~~doll~~ action figure (if it’s for a boy you can never call it a doll, it’s always an action figure, even though a girl would refer to it as a doll) and I got it for him, interchangeable heads and all, against my better judgment. I think that was the sickest toy I was ever conned into buying, even including having his ear pierced and getting him the entire series of DOOM games. Steve-o didn’t stay interested in it for long, (mostly because his friends mocked him for playing with a doll.) I think eventually poor Dennis and both of his heads fell victim to either Clara or Lilo’s early adult/final puppy stage compulsion to chew up things.

It was probably Lilo. She still destroys her toys, and she’s 10 years old. Clara isn’t nearly as enamored of destroying stuff- unless it’s a bone with peanut butter in it.

Why Dennis Rodman reminds me of Obama, I’ll never know, but I sort of like the concept of popping off and changing out his action figure’s head, for what it’s worth. Maybe somewhere there’s a sane head that can replace Obama’s goofy one? Just pop off the goofy one and pop on the rational one?

Picking On the Emotionally Impaired, and I Wanna Be Sedated

November 4, 2013Tonya Lanthron Leave a comment

But how do you keep them out? They’re like zombies- and they’re multiplying.

Every once in awhile I like the Ramones, even though their songs are to music as junk food is to real food- trite, and full of empty calories, but oddly satisfying while they are being consumed. I don’t think I could sit through hours and hours of “Blitzkrieg Bop” and “I Wanna Be Sedated,” but I like to just zone out and not have to think too much every now and then. The Ramones are good for that.

My penchant for rock, metal and the occasional grunge or punk fix would make my voice teachers cringe, but the line between classical music and orchestral metal is a very fine one. Even though I’ve not played bass or fronted a metal band in 20 years, I still find the musician in me analyzing what I’m listening to. I still have an appreciation for what is technically good and what is more or less musical junk food, for whatever that’s worth. I hate to say it, but that’s probably why most of my MP3 collection dates back to 1985 and earlier.

There is some good new music out there today, but it’s not mainstream. You have to know where to look. The unholy crud that is currently polluting the airwaves and the TV screens generally does suck. It sucks like sucking has never sucked before. We have fantastic, amazing, digital technology but we’re recording and distributing total crap on it. We traded Steve Perry for Katy Perry (really sucky trade there) and I don’t understand why. I mean in 1981 we had Steve Perry as the greatest singer ever and Ronald Reagan as president. Today we have Katy Perry and Obama. Go figure. The evidence for devolution is right before our eyes (and ears.) Blecch.

I’m just thankful that through the gift of technology I can bring the past up to date in some ways. I can get good music on MP3s and save good songs to my SD card so I can spare myself from the pollution of the airwaves.

When Jerry and I went on the train ride last week it was cold. The train was delayed because they had oversold and had to add cars to the train. A fat old lady took Jerry’s seat while he decided to go out and smoke because we had to wait, even when I told him that it was crowded, therefore, the “move your feet lose your seat” rule would come into play, so we had to find different seats to sit together. Even so, it was a good time and very interesting. The train car we rode in until the first stop was built in 1927, the second car we rode on for the rest of the trip was built in the mid 1950s and had two levels. We sat up top in the second car for a better view.

On the first car we sat behind a Japanese family. Mom and Dad were facing Jerry and I, while their teenage son and preteen daughter were sitting across from their parents. I could see over the boy’s shoulder that he was more interested in his i-phone and his animé cartoons that would be porn if they weren’t cartoons. My question is, since animé is just cartoons, is it really porn or is it just a porn substitute? His mother probably still would have been mortified if she had seen what I was getting an eyeful of, but either she didn’t know or didn’t care about what Junior was watching.

I remember Steve-o’s brief infatuation with animé “sort-of-porn” at the same age. I knew full well what he was gawking at online, but I figured if I made a big scene over it like my mother did over anything even remotely risqué that it would become an obsession for him. She was more wigged out about finding rubbers in his personal effects than about finding cigarettes, which struck me odd. Sex can potentially kill you, but wearing a rubber can help prevent STDs, so he’s mitigating that risk. Cigarettes are in no way safe. I was more upset about the smokes. But Mom’s Catholic, and as far as I know for Catholics, smoking is not considered a sin- you can be a priest and smoke- but sex (unless one is married and having sex for procreational reasons only) is a mortal sin. Doesn’t that suck?

I’m no paragon of moral virtue, so I have absolutely no room to talk.

Scenic Central Ohio, Happy Halloween, and the Moochers’ Banquet

October 31, 2013Tonya Lanthron 3 Comments

Nothing says “high class” like an aspiring rug salesman fast asleep atop his wares…

At least his business associate stayed home today and the both of them weren’t sleeping in the rugs again.

The not-so-savory view across the road makes me almost wish they hadn’t closed the Swifty station, even though every time they were three cents a gallon cheaper than the stations down the road, the Somalians would line up for what seemed to be miles up and down Morse Road. I am averse to just about everything that blocks traffic, especially when all I’m trying to do is get out of the parking lot and get to Sally’s to get my hair dye.

Given my morbid sense of curiosity, I have to imagine what kind of exotic vermin are hiding out in those magic carpets- bed bugs, cockroaches, lice, or who knows what divers kinds of insect life that is not indigenous to the Midwest?

The native insect life is quite bad enough, thanks. The last thing we need here is an(other) infestation of some exotic and impossible to eradicate pest. It’s bad enough the Somalians and others hailing from cultures not accustomed to indoor plumbing, washing clothing regularly, and tending to daily hygiene brought in trillions of bed bugs.

I absolutely loathe unauthorized insect life- especially those that bite and/or spread disease.

As far as the unfortunate rug salesman, in his defense, at least the poor guy is trying to do something somewhat honest (providing that the rugs aren’t hot) rather than just collecting a welfare check and looting the grocery stores the entire first week of every month. Which reminds me, I’d better stop off at Costco and Target tonight and get scripts, coffee and dog food unless I want to fight off the unwashed masses tomorrow. Costco doesn’t take SNAP, (boy howdy how I wish Kroger’s and Speedway didn’t take it either, believe that) and you have to be a member, so that cuts down on the first-of-the-month free-for-most (but certainly NOT me) there, but you can’t buy everything at Costco. I don’t need to buy toilet paper 96 rolls at a time, for instance, and I don’t have anywhere to put 15 gallons of mustard.

It’s not going to sound very nice (since when do I worry about that) but there’s a lot in common between the government gimme crowd and trick-or-treaters.

For example, both government moochers and trick-or-treaters wear sometimes lame, sometimes colorful, but always interesting clothing and hair styles:

Trick or Treat- how cute!

I guess if you don’t have to worry about dress codes, anything goes!

I guess if you’re going to loot the grocery stores on my dime, thanks for at least giving me a good show.

Getting Away- Let’s Try This Again, and Why Not Take the Train?

October 16, 2013Tonya Lanthron 2 Comments

I embark on “vacations” with a sense of trepidation. Last year I was supposed to have two entire days of peace and quiet at the campground with just Clara as company. Instead I got five days of Jerry barking orders at me- and to make it even more miserable, I had a wicked sinus infection throughout the whole “vacation” which lingered on for about 10 days after.

It was not fun.

How do I explain to him that part of the point of taking a “vacation” is not having to run and fetch for him? When I think of a vacation I’m thinking of margaritas and pool boys and beaches and sleeping and reading.

A vacation for him is never a “vacation” for me. It is more reminiscent of boot camp.

Every time Jerry has ever imposed himself on one of my “vacations,” I’ve been happy as hell to get back to work.

I still want a couple of days’ peace and quiet with nothing but canine company. It probably won’t happen. I will be stuck running after beer (which I don’t drink) and lottery tickets (that I don’t play.) I’ll likely be recruited to perform home improvement projects and maintenance for him that I am not very good at doing. Then I will get nine kinds of shit about how bad I suck at hanging blinds or cleaning gutters.

The nearest establishment to the campground that sells beer and lottery is about six miles away. Then *while I’m out- ha-ha* I will get demands to procure obscure items at hardware stores (even further out), to fix food and to run divers errands, until my head spins. He will want me to take the dogs out at midnight, just because. There will be no quiet. There will be no resting. He will make a concerted effort to drive me completely apeshit.

I’ve taken vacations with my parents and/or Steve-o which do afford more relaxation time, but Mom and Dad can prove grating as well. Mom’s insanely pokey and doesn’t get motivated easily. Dad is constantly wanting to stop and go munch somewhere, which means it’s pretty much impossible to adhere to any kind of schedule.

Perhaps it is just my wiring that makes the fun vacation (for me) the solo vacation, where I can operate on my own itinerary and do what I want when (and if) I feel like doing it.

33 states honor my Ohio CCW, which is a comforting thought, as I don’t generally travel unarmed. Most of the places where I would routinely travel are quite fine with concealed carry. The bad thing is I really, really want to see the Mütter Museum in Philadelphia. But my CCW is not valid in Pennsylvania, which really sucks. I have to ponder this one. Is it worth it to travel unarmed and run the risk of being carjacked, robbed, raped and/or pillaged? I will have to find out if open carry is legal there, but it’s probably not. Once the gun control weenies ban concealed carry, they usually aren’t cool about open carry either.

It’s about 500 miles one way, which is a day trip to get there, overnight in a motel, all day at the museum, then another night at the motel and the trip back. It looks like this trip is three days- if I drive and take it leisurely.

I’ll have to find out if it’s in a safer part of town. I won’t go alone if I can’t carry and it’s in da hood. Having a good time at a strange destination is all about the research. I’ve traveled alone many times with little more than some scribbled directions and a general sense of where I need to go. I remember going to one series of meetings (two days) with about 15 minutes notice and I ended up having to buy toiletries and a change of clothes at a freaking Odd Lots store. It was sort of fun but also quite harrowing to try to get by with a weird sized curling iron, soaps and makeup I’d never heard of, and clothing that was less than flattering.

I’d rather research the area, know where I’m going, and have my reservations ahead of time.

One thing I have planned for my brief upcoming hiatus is a train ride- the Hocking Valley Railroad offers a short day trip through southeast Ohio on a passenger train. I’m planning to go next Thursday and I hope the weather cooperates. Better yet, I hope Jerry shuts up long enough for me to actually enjoy the scenery.

A Public Service Message for All the Little Big Men

October 15, 2013Tonya Lanthron 2 Comments

When you’re home at night and your wife is busy pussy-whipping your pathetic ass (again) I hope you have the balls to talk to her the way you think you can get away with talking to me.

Then I hope she beats your ass the way I wish I could but won’t because I am too professional. In spite of your pompousness and rudeness I need this job, otherwise I’d thrash you worse than your old lady could dream of.

Believe that, ass pilots of the world.

One Dog Down the Cat Hole, and One Against the Thugocracy

October 15, 2013Tonya Lanthron Leave a comment

It’s easy for me to forget that Lucy is substantially smaller than the other two dogs. I thought that since Lucy has a rather large head for her size, that she was too large for the cat hole. I have since realized that Fanny can get through a smaller hole than previously thought possible, and Lucy can get through a much smaller hole than I’d ever imagined.

Let me explain the logic behind the cat hole.

The New Improved Cat Hole: Just big enough for 17# Fanny to fit through…and nothing bigger- I hope!

Dogs absolutely lust over cat food, and most dogs are inexplicably enamored of snacking on cat shit as well. Neither cat food (too high in fat and protein for a dog’s metabolism) nor cat shit (well, it’s shit, ’nuff said) is healthy for dogs to consume in any kind of quantity. It’s sort of like humans living on bacon and candy- it might taste good at the moment, but it’s just plain unhealthy, and such a diet can lead to serious disease. Dogs are not the best arbiters of healthy eating, and they really shouldn’t be left to free-forage. As George Carlin once wisely pointed out regarding “gourmet” cat food, “How many gourmets lick their ass?”

Since we have four cats and three dogs, the cats need a safe place to hide when the dogs get on their nerves, as well as a safe place to eat and crap. The dogs need to be kept out of cat food and kept out of cat shit. In our house, the dog-free zone is the basement. There’s a roughly cat-sized hole cut in the basement door that (in theory) keeps dogs out while letting cats move freely in and out.

Big Fat Fanny- that’s what I get for naming the cat while listening to Queen. The dreadful 70’s linoleum- not really my choice.

The original oversize cat hole worked just fine for Clara and Lilo, who have long since realized that they aren’t going to get to go downstairs to munch. Clara is slender but even so, she’s still 65#. Lilo is about 55#, and not terribly motivated to pursue anything that doesn’t afford her easy access. Lucy, at a comparatively tiny 45#, however, decided to use her thick skull to worm her way through the cat hole.

The cat hole was a bit oversize because Fanny is a bit oversize. Our cats range in size from 4 1/2# Jezebel to 17# Fanny. Isabel is just slightly bigger than Jezebel at right around 5#, and F.B. is about 8#. I have four cats and only one is “normal” sized. Go figure, and I have no idea why the two black ones are so tiny. Jezebel eats more than any of the other cats, but she’s still the smallest. Her (Jezebel’s) feral relatives that live on the body shop lot are all petite cats as well. Perhaps city cats have some sort of advantage in smaller size vs. farm cats who tend to be large like Fanny. Isabel and Jezebel were both city ferals at one time. Fanny was from out in farm country, and I have no idea where F.B. came from before we took her in when her first owner died.

As long as Fanny fits, and Lucy keeps from ramming it, the reduced size cat hole should keep cats and dogs in their proper places.

If Obama gets his way, the rest of the country will be just like Detroit.

I’ve tried to keep my mouth somewhat shut about the political rancor and just plain stupidity going on in Washington right now, but I can’t understand why there are still dimwits out there who don’t get it about Obama. Including Jerry’s Dad, the former Klan member.

“Take a shower!” or was that “White powder?” Ass pilot.

I can’t say I condone the Klan, but frankly I’m tired of any racial or ethnic group demanding preferential treatment. The white supremacists are just as stupid as the Al Sharptons and Jesse Jacksons and Muslim extremist crazies of the world, believe that. But Jerry’s Dad seems to have done a 180° to think Obama’s the best thing ever, and I really don’t understand why or how he would. Maybe he’s gone senile and he’s feeling guilty for 70+ years of unabashed racism? Or maybe he’s just batshit crazy. I tend to believe suggestion #2.

This guy is a nut, too.

The thing is, I can feel bad over injustices committed against black people – or any other oppressed group-in the past without feeling a need to offer a free pass to Obama’s present ineptitude, incompetence and malice. Equal opportunity includes the obligation to own up to your own epic failures. If you can’t run with the big dogs, I don’t care what color, gender, ethnicity or whatever you are. Stay the flying flip on the porch.

Instead of working together with others in government toward responsible leadership, Obama has established a thugocracy- a culture in which there is one central premise: that big government knows what’s good for you, and we’ll take what you have by force, ostensibly in the name of “the common good.” In reality it is about big government feeding itself at the cost of those who work, produce and create. Communism / socialism didn’t work in the (former) Soviet Union and it doesn’t work now.

I don’t know who came up with this summary but it’s pretty good:

Socialism: Moochers electing looters to steal from producers.

Joy and rapture. Welfare day at Walmart. I think I’ll wait until the second week of the month to do my shopping.

I’m just hoping Lucy doesn’t get downstairs to dine on the magical dog candy again.

Old Stories Revisited, and Some Things Never Die (But Should)

October 10, 2013Tonya Lanthron Leave a comment

When I was in high school I had a taste for bodice-ripper novels. By the end of my freshman year I had an entire locker filled with discount cover-less $1.35 novels from the cigar store that were so graphic I had to get rid of them when school was out. Mom would have found them in her regular treasure hunts through my stuff, and “smut” like that would have given my mother a coronary. (I wonder if Beth’s mother ever found them, but then Beth’s Mom wasn’t nearly as snoopy as mine, which is why I gave them to Beth in the first place.) I always knew Mom snooped, so I made sure Mom never found anything good such as cigarettes, “smut” books, birth control pills, short skirts, fishnets, etc. in any of my stuff. I had a few friends once I got a car, and with them, divers places to stash incriminating stuff.

I like the concept of stashing one’s guns under the stairs. I like stashing the gun next to the bed even better.

I wasn’t into ordinary flowery *clean* “romance” stories (think Hallmark Channel snooze fare, or the Harlequin romances Grandma liked to read.) I liked the more juicy ones that usually didn’t have much for a plot, but didn’t leave out the graphic details. Cut to the chase, already. I also had a taste for mystery and who-dunnits for a time, along with my usual historical and scientific non-fiction fare, but when I was in high school I would pretty much read anything and everything I could get my hands on. Today, because I have to do other things (like it or not) I have to be a bit more judicious in my literary choices. Let’s face it, the myriad ways of performing the conjugal act get a bit overhyped at times, and I need a bodice-ripper like a hole in the head these days. My imagination does not need any assistance in that realm. Besides, If I’m going to spend time in fiction I want a good story. Something with an actual plot that’s deeper than, “spying his turgid member, she unzipped his pants…” I want something epic, something meaty, or why bother?

Whether you like fiction or fantasy (normally I am not into either) or not, Tolkien is awesome. I’ve read these more times than I can count.

I never read a lot of fiction (other than the aforementioned bodice-rippers, and I’m really not compelled to go for bodice-rippers any more) but I did and still do like Stephen King. I may not agree with his politics (I don’t) but he is a hell of a writer. One of my favorites authored by King is the book IT, (not to be confused as a horror novel about IT, which is good given that many in the IT profession are quite scary enough,) so I simply had to get it on Kindle.

Maybe I shouldn’t put it like this, but Kindle is a hyperlexic’s high holy fantasy. There are millions of books available for momentary download for a modest fee (and some are even free.) Since my particular Kindle has 3G and Wi-Fi I can pretty much download anytime and anywhere, meaning I have to be careful in the Kindle Store. I have limited myself to one book a week, and only if I have finished the previous one. There is something just plain magical about having so much reading material at one’s fingertips.

My favorite Stephen King book, except for maybe The Stand. It might be a tie.

I read IT back in 1987 shortly after its release in paperback. I couldn’t afford hard back books at that time. $4.95 was pricey enough back in those days, but worthwhile. I couldn’t put it down- and read it the first time in about two days. This time I am taking my time and only reading a few chapters at a time, for no other reason than I don’t have entire days to lock myself away to just read anymore. I really miss being able to do that from time to time. I am one of those incorrigible nerd types who can get lost in a book and forget just about everything else.

IT, I am finding, is a more personal story for me now than it was in 1987. When I read IT the first time, there wasn’t much distance between me as the 10 year old and me as the 18 year old. It was a great story, but I didn’t really identify with the characters back then. Today I can understand their perspective much better. There is a lifetime of distance and several changes of spheres between me as the 10 year old, and me as the forty-something. There are those long-forgotten incidents and pictures from the back of the brain box that I don’t always acknowledge are there until some external event triggers the memory. There are plenty of incidents I’d rather forget, and many pictures that are best left buried deep and not disturbed from their sleep.

Such as: every day.

Even more unnerving, just as Derry, Maine had its scandals and secrets and monsters in the closets (and the drainage system,) I come from a small town with a history that is mired in intrigue, scandal, untimely death and *evil?* just as the fictional Derry was. Some of that history is fascinating and some of it tragic, but none of it rests well. My own personal history rests uneasily too.

I Don’t Wanna Talk About It (But I Will Anyway,) and I Love Lucy

October 2, 2013Tonya Lanthron Leave a comment

Lucy is clearly not a Belgian Malinois (most likely Bulldog and Beagle) but as Mick Jagger once sang: “You can’t always get what you want /But if you try sometimes /You just might find /You get what you need…”

Even considering the insight of the Rolling Stones, I didn’t really need a third dog. Even so, I was surprised it took Jerry from May to September to end up with another dog. I wanted another Malinois for Miss Clara to mentor, (and I still do) but when a stray dog (almost) got into it with one of the ankle biters at the campground over table scraps, Jerry had to intervene, and rightfully so. I couldn’t say no to that face and those eyes.

Either we took Lucy with us, or she’d have ended up with an ass full of buck shot, as the owner of the ankle biter in question would not hesitate to do it. It was a no-brainer. We took Sheena, messed up as she was, because she needed a home and we had a space. Lucy, even though I have little to no experience with either bully breeds or hounds, has a lot more going for her than poor Sheena did.

This is a young female Malinois- not Lucy!

Unlike Sheena, Lucy can hear. Lucy also has teeth. She has a bit of an underbite, (normal for Bulldogs) but she still has 42 sturdy, clean, white teeth. She’s also young (about a year, according to the Vet) and to our shock, had already been spayed. I feel bad that she was put under anesthetic and cut on only to find out she’d already been spayed, but how were we to know? In spite of undergoing what proved to be an unneeded surgery, she’s in impeccable health- aside from having to lose a pound or two from her incessant moochings at the campground. (Who can resist those eyes and that face?) She should get down to a proper weight now that she’s on Diet Plate with Lilo and eating pretty much just dog food. She also has a microchip and tags now, should she manage to wander off from us.

I don’t know why anyone would bother to spay a dog and then not microchip her, or bother to put a collar and tags on her, but that’s not my call. Against my first instincts, I love this weird looking little dog, even though she waddles when she walks and drools in her sleep. Even the cats are chumming up to her and kissing on her, (Jezebel especially loves dogs) which makes me wonder if she really went off on the ankle biter, or that if the ankle biter’s owners were just paranoid that she was hanging around and mooching. Then again, in our house the cats don’t compete with the dogs for food. The cats eat in a dog-free area, otherwise the cats wouldn’t get to eat at all. As far as competing with the other dogs, Clara and Lilo are both a lot bigger than Lucy, and she strikes me as being smart enough not to pick a fight with either one of them.

I’m starting to think my tits have mistaken themselves for migratory birds, as they have moved so far south. I know my grandmother warned me when I was 13 that I should always wear a sturdy bra, and for the most part I have heeded her advice, but the effects of gravity, like those of other forces associated with entropy, are inevitable.

Aging sucks, especially when it challenges your deeply held belief that it won’t happen to you.

I’ve been trying to avoid the political landscape as that whole scene is just plain depressing. I knew what a piece of work our illegitimate president was before he cheated himself into office the first time. I’m not at all surprised by what’s going on, even though it’s puzzling to me why the illegitimate fraud squatting in the White House hasn’t been impeached, removed and deported by now.

-Apparently playing the race card can still get you very far even with no experience, talent or ability to cooperate with others, and apparently not enough people care that you are illegitimate and lacking any sort of merit, if you can claim a favored minority status- and that makes my blood boil.

Anyway, I told myself I would avoid political tangents today so I am trying very hard not to. The bad part about trying to avoid doing something is that if you avoid it too hard you step right into it, sort of like when I try to go out in the back yard and try not to step in dog shit. Usually when I’m hell bent on avoiding dog shit is exactly when I step in it.

Oh, the parallels between stepping in dog shit and the illegitimate, destructive and dangerous Obama administration. The only difference is that dog shit washes off.

ELYSIANHUNTER, ALWAYS INCITEFUL:

Because comedy is the flipside of tragedy

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assorted rants