assorted rants, gratuitous self pity, historical interest, misanthropy, miscellaneous drivel, political commentary

Privacy Has Its Advantages, Free Speech, and a Nod to the Sleep Deprived

carlin on government

Welcome to redneck heaven.   I still can’t get it why people around me seldom have blinds nor curtains.  I understand real curtains are expensive, but in a pinch a blanket from the Goodwill will serve as a curtain.  Poverty should not overshadow modesty. If there is a will, there is a way.

At any rate, I have no need to invite peeping Toms to gawk in on the happenings in my home.  My shower and my toilet are private.  My living room is private.  So are my laundry room, kitchen, dining room and bedroom.  If I want to wander around in any of them in various states of undress that’s my business, hence the blinds and curtains. I also don’t care to share what types or how much technological equipment or furnishings are or are not in my house, nor do I wish to broadcast my TV viewing to the rest of the block.  Live and let live.

captain obvious

The only things anyone outside of my very select circle of family and friends needs to know about my home and the activities therein are: Yes, I am armed, and yes, I have dogs.  Take my word for both, stay the hell away, and I promise you will not encounter either the hollow points or the canine jaws.

For some reason I have been wanting to nod off all day, and I slept reasonably well last night.  Maybe it’s because I have built up a sleep deficit that would last 10 years before it would even out. I know sleep loss is cumulative, but at some point I would think I would be making some headway on making it up.

I am not one of those people who really has a problem with the rebel flag.  It is historical and it has some sentimental value for people who have roots in the South.  I am not from the South, nor do I have any particular emotional ties with things Southern or of the Confederacy, so I am not going to be flying the stars and bars myself. However, I am not butt-hurt over those who do. It amazes me that even now people are ignorant enough to riot and kill each other over historical symbols.  Both sides- the “Alt-Right” and the “ANTIFA” people have it all wrong.  There is no such thing as “white supremacy” unless you are stupid enough to buy into debunked Nazi myths, and as far as reparations for slavery and all the government entitlement and reverse discrimination horse shit goes, that dog doesn’t hunt either.  No race or ethnic group is superior to another, and no race or ethnic group owes another anything based upon the actions of their ancestors.

If that were the case, the Irish and the Scots- not to mention various Asian and Indian nationalities- should be clamoring for the rest of the world to kiss their behinds.  The reality is that at one point or another all of us had ancestors who were oppressors.  All of us had ancestors who were oppressed too.  How we treat each other now is what matters.  Let It Go.

chain saw

I did have a problem with the guy across the street from Dad who decided to use a Nazi swastika flag as a curtain in his front window.  I found his choice of window treatment most offensive considering my grandfather (Dad’s Dad) fought the Nazis in WWII.  However, this rather dimwitted chap decided to remove it when Dad enlightened him that while it is his first amendment right to express himself, people who fly such flags in public view have a greater than normal chance of having their windows shot out.

Things have a way of working themselves out.

I wouldn’t say that I am easily annoyed.  My coping mechanism is usually to tune out the people who piss me off.  That’s why I haven’t had much commentary in the political or social spheres as of late.  I think it’s bloody hilarious that the same people who whined and cried because conservatives dared to criticize the sainted king Obama, have been positively bloodthirsty and shrilly outspoken in their hatred of Trump.  I think it’s just the way it goes.   It’s ok to hate white people even if you are white, which doesn’t make a whole lot of sense.  I notice quite a bit of vitriol directed toward white men who want to end the welfare gravy train.   Follow the money.  Who benefits from the entitlement system?  Why do they object to it being reformed?

Then again, even haters have their first amendment rights.

I don’t understand how racism toward whites somehow makes up for racism against blacks.  Racism is destructive regardless of where it comes from and who it is directed toward.

Sometimes critique of a particular ideology can be construed as a critique of an entire race, which is a dangerous logical fallacy.  Not all white people are white supremacists or Nazis, and in reality a vast majority of white people would never dream of subscribing to the myth of white supremacy or to Nazism.  Most black people are NOT screaming “reparations” or “kill whitey” either.

Hate organizations are hate organizations and should be called out and condemned no matter who their racism targets.  The KKK and Alt-Right and other white supremacist organizations have no place in a civilized, ethnically diverse society.  Neither does ANTIFA, Black Lives Matter, or any other organization whose aim is to foster hate and division against other races.

I am curious about all the people so quick to crucify Trump because he didn’t explicitly condemn just the KKK and Alt-Right and all the white supremacist wackos.  He did the correct thing and condemned ALL racial hate groups.

hypocrisy

Where were the Trump critics when Obama never had the balls to call out ISLAMIC TERRORISM?  Especially when there were so many egregious examples of it during his administration, so much so that I am convinced to agree that he was in collusion with them?  Trump is definitely not a white supremacist or a supporter of white supremacists.  Obama on the other hand, was a prime enabler of Islamic terrorism.  Why is nobody in the media calling out THAT happy little fact?

Granted, Islam is not a race, and not all adherents of Islam are out there actively promoting jihad, but Islam is a poisoned and flawed political ideology that hides behind the façade of religion. It is naïve and dangerous to pretend otherwise for the sake of “political correctness.” When one’s flawed and poisoned ideology turns into criminal actions that bring harm or death to others, this is where first amendment rights end.

Believe what you will, but there must be consequences should your beliefs trigger you to actions that break the law- regardless of whatever “protected status” you seek.

 

 

 

Standard
assorted rants, gratuitous self pity, historical interest, misanthropy, miscellaneous drivel

Stress? What Stress?, and I’m Still a Hot Mess

Holmes-Rahe-Stress-Inventory.jpg

My score was 360.  I don’t know whether or not to find humor in that, or to resort to despair.

I think I will find humor in that.  Despair is easy, and I don’t like taking the easy way out of anything.

If I would have to look back at the past year or so, if anything I am less stressed than I was a year ago, but the types of stress are different.  At this time last year we had finally closed on the loan, the summer-long cleaning, renovating and moving disaster was almost done, and I was moving Jerry into the house in Marion.  In retrospect I think I knew he didn’t have much longer to live.  In some ways I feel bad that I spent so much time doing so much work when he wanted my constant attention, but I didn’t have a choice given the time constraints I had.  Most of last summer was spent divided between two residences- and I wasn’t able to take off work to do anything.  It took a divine miracle that I was able to somehow get it done.

In some ways I wonder if moving him up there- taking him out of his natural habitat so to speak- hurried up the inevitable.  He made no bones about absolutely hating being in Marion.  But in other ways I can’t help but to view his passing as a merciful end.  I don’t know if this is how you’re supposed to feel when someone dies after years of being terminally ill. Is it supposed to be a relief?  He had been ill for many years- not just physically, but he was also deeply injured both emotionally and spiritually beyond my sorry ability to mitigate or repair.  He was a suffering and tortured soul, and there wasn’t anything I could do to fix that. I still feel bad that I couldn’t- as if I have failed.

I do feel guilty to some degree about all my failings with him.  I let his irrational behavior and alcohol abuse wear me down.  I wasn’t as patient and understanding as I could have been. Whatever love I had for him at one time had long since turned to regret and pity.  I felt sorry for him, but not in any way close to him. As the years went by the distance grew.  I spent almost 20 years in a sort of limbo, dancing around his rages and avoiding his scrutiny.

In a weird kind of way I almost feel guilty because I am not heartbroken and weepy. I just don’t have that kind of mourning in me.   Is it too healthy to pick up and move on, and even to breathe a sigh of relief?  I think maybe I got a lot of the mourning out of my system over the years as Jerry’s behavior issues and then the inevitable fallout from his illnesses chipped away at any affection I had for him.

I stayed because I said I would.  Not because I wanted to. Had it not been for Jerry being ill, I probably would have left him at some point because of the alcohol and the rages, the things that happened behind closed doors that well meaning friends and relatives never see.  I stayed more out of pity than anything else.  Does that make me an evil person?

hallmark card

Jerry’s sisters aren’t very thrilled with me, I’m sure.  I have no reason or desire to stay in contact with any of them after their behavior at the funeral. One didn’t even bother to show up, as she claimed 45 miles was “too far to drive.”  I drive that far each way every day to work, so I call bullshit on that.   I personally think she was pissed because the funeral director declined her request to view his body, even though he had requested NO viewing and direct cremation, and I honored that wish.  Even if he had not specifically stated no viewing, I would have insisted on no viewing anyway.  He had died in the night and was sleeping face down when he died.  When I found him, he had likely been dead for an hour or two, so the blood had pooled in his face, making him a rather bright shade of purple.  I am an iron guts, and even I declined to take a peek at that.

One sister disrespected my son by stating that he wasn’t really part of the family because he wasn’t related to her by blood, while the other was scanning about for valuables to take home. So I really don’t have a use for any of them.  I don’t need their drama.

I choose to live and let live, and to step away from the past.

On the brighter side, my illustrious hillbilly neighbors are always entertaining.

across the street

This place has been messier than this, if that is imaginable.  I think their dryer must have taken a puke. It’s bad enough that they drain the washer out of the bedroom window in the front of the house (and yes, this is the front of the house- the back is even worse) and the health department has warned them about doing that for the longest time, but to hang one’s laundry on the front porch is just a bit gauche.

This is the same pack of governmentally subsidized, poorly tattooed and morbidly obese individuals who were setting off hundreds of dollars worth of fireworks over the Fourth of July weekend.  I had to call the cops when their bottle rockets and other assorted incendiaries were landing on my roof.  I don’t want to be the buzz kill, but it’s bad enough when a.) I have to get up at 5 AM to go to work, because Monday, July 3rd was a work day for me, let alone when b.) it’s also midnight, and on top of all the racket, you’re landing flammables on my house.

My question is, you have money for fireworks, but not for a dryer…or a garage door?

Priorities, priorities.

Speaking of priorities, I am enjoying more road trips and fun activities on the weekends than I have for a long time.  Sophie got to sit in a GT car at the races on Saturday- I had never actually seen GT races or Indy car races live before, so this was a good time.

sophie gt car

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Standard
assorted rants, creative writing, gratuitous self pity, historical interest, misanthropy

Finding Ephemera, and Joy In the Morning?

butts_dispensary

I have been trolling about online for 19th century ads for patent medicine and other assorted ephemera as well as car ads for vintage Toyotas, and I might consider some 1970s era ads for hygiene products and/or clothing (because that shit is hilarious) and various other weird things to transform into wall art for my house.

It’s my house. I’m the only one who lives there.  So my décor is entirely up to me. If I wanted to paint every wall in the house hot pink that is my prerogative.  I haven’t done that, mostly because a.) I don’t have time, and b.) hot pink would look weird on paneling.  This being said, eclectic is the only word I have to describe what I want.  If I like it, it goes up.

68toyotacoronacoupe                                   (but they didn’t synchronize reverse until the 2000’s)

There might be some that think I am being heartless or a bit callous in the transitions I’m making in my life.  The precious only male child is more than a little incensed that I have had the truck detailed (and that I am letting a friend in need borrow the truck for awhile) yet he never claimed that he wanted it or cared what I did with it before.  I know everyone handles grief differently, but why he would want me to let the truck sit in the garage and rot (and reek of old cigarettes and various food wrappers) is beyond me.

The difficult thing is that I have been waiting for years to be able to “get on with my life-” to be able to go have a good time if I feel like it, and to participate at church and in other activities.  No, it’s not about partying like a rock star (way too old) or anything debauched, just being able to do what I want, when I want, within reason.  I feel sort of bad because Mom and Dad both think that because I live back in town and I live alone that I am going to want to spend all my time away from work with them.  The idea here is not to ignore them, but I do have people I want to be around, and things I would like to do that don’t involve them.

activities

It has felt good to be able to go have dinner with a friend, to go out to malls and such, or to sit and watch old Journey concerts on You Tube.  And I am not going to feign being the “grieving widow” because I’m not feeling it. I spent too many years dealing with Jerry and his tirades and demands.  I am prone to depression, and if I really wanted to fall into that mess I probably could, but I’ve spent too much time there already.  Life is short, and I’ve already wasted enough of it being used and worn out and depressed.

And to be frank about it, 12 years of involuntary chastity was not exactly what I signed up for either.  I am certainly not easy or a slut (otherwise, I don’t see going 12 years without, married or not) but should the right opportunity (and I emphasize the word right) arise to remedy that situation, I am not going to refuse.  I am a free woman now.

Standard
historical interest, misanthropy, political commentary

Deplorably Yours, Levity, and Solemnity

donald-trump-businessjunkee

I admit that at the beginning of the Presidential campaign season I wondered about Donald Trump and his motives for wanting to run.  Here’s a guy who doesn’t need to do anything other than count his money and golf, or whatever it is rich old guys enjoy.  So why on earth would a guy like this blow a boatload of scratch on a Presidential campaign?

So was the Trump bid for President a power trip?  A bucket list thing?  I was looking for motive, and I generally don’t see the best in people until it’s blatantly obvious.  I am cynical by nature. I figured it was one of those celebrity prank type things for the longest time.

As time went on and I listened to Mr. Trump, he made sense.  What he was saying and his proposed vision for America struck a chord with me.  After eight years of Obama and his complete ineptitude, it was refreshing to hear a Reaganesque voice amid the defeatist, globalist noise.

Needless to say I am thrilled at the prospect of a fundamental change of direction in American government- a rejection of globalism, a return of national identity, and dare I think it, a return to American hegemony on the world stage.

I don’t really see any need for being a graceless winner.  I think it’s blatantly obvious that the anti-American agenda has been rejected.  No reason to rub it in.

 

Standard
assorted rants, creative writing, gratuitous self pity, historical interest, misanthropy

Grief, a Primer, and We All Need New Frontiers

dream after dream

I haven’t been here in awhile.  Between moving (still can’t find most of my winter clothes) and tending to the dying, I am surprised I am still relatively calm and sane. Even so my absence here is ironic, because I’ve certainly had the need for catharsis and venting and a place to sort out all the conflicting emotions (there’s that dirty word – emotions– again) that have been rolling about in my head.  I’ve just been scattered so far and wide that I’ve not had the time.

Unfortunately I was right about Jerry in his illness, that he would not survive long once he couldn’t work any more.  He was deemed permanently disabled July 8th.  He died October 21st.  It was a hellish ride, and slowly suffocating to death is a cruel and shitty way to die.   Pulmonary fibrosis finally won out, and I emphasize, it is a very shitty way to die.

I am thankful that he didn’t die like his Dad did (also of pulmonary fibrosis)- after a week of poking, prodding and fruitless and painful interventions in intensive care.  Jerry was fortunate enough to die at home, I think, if only because of his determination to stay out of hospitals.  After witnessing his Dad’s horrible death in the hospital a only a week earlier, yeah, I’d want to stay the freak out of that mess too.  Especially when you have a terminal illness and death is the inevitable outcome.  Nothing that hospital could do was going to make him any better or move him toward any kind of recovery.

I am not going to pretend that our marriage was loving or happy.  Most of the time, with some brief exceptions, it wasn’t either one. Most of the time it was barely tolerable.  For me it was upholding a choice to do what I said I would, even if the decision I made was an ill-advised one.  Marry in haste, repent in leisure. Got it.

funny-bad-decisions

This isn’t to say that I didn’t love him or care, but that I’ve been worn down by many years of dealing with his alcoholism and weathering the emotional and verbal abuse that is part of that.   I can’t say that I was perfect or blameless either, and hindsight being 20/20 I still wonder if it would have been more admirable or noble for me to have left him quietly long ago.  Even though it came about in a fashion I would not wish on anyone, twenty one years later, that obligation is over.

This is the hard part that my family (as well as his family and some of our mutual friends)is having a hard time understanding.  I’ve been mourning for a very long time already.  I’ve been mourning the fact that I spent 20+ years of my life in a difficult and troubled marriage.  I’ve been mourning the reality of living with an alcoholic and riding that rollercoaster ride. I’ve been mourning witnessing someone I once loved suffering and dying in a most horrible way.  Mourning has been a way of life for me for way too long.

mourning-black

Even so, I’m not dead yet. I’m not getting any younger, either.  Excuse me if I want to live. I am not prostrate in grief.  Yes, I am sad that he suffered the way he did, and I miss him in some ways, but in most ways I’m relieved.  Relieved that his suffering is over, and that I am free to pursue my own life, whatever that might mean.

By the grace of God new frontiers are right in front of me, and in ways I couldn’t have imagined a year ago.  I’m living an ending and a beginning at the same time.  As truly bizarre as it might sound, I can’t help to stand back and feel blessed and in awe.

 

 

Standard
assorted rants, creative writing, gratuitous self pity, historical interest, misanthropy, political commentary

Damn the Torpedoes, Full Steam Ahead, and Let the Pundits Be Wrong

 

reagan-greatI have said before that I’ve not been as excited about a presidential candidate – meaning Donald Trump- since Reagan in 1980.  For you math wizards out there, I was 11 years old in 1980, and more than aware of how President Carter’s flawed policies (especially his mishandling of the coal strikes and the mollycoddling of unions that led to millions of jobs going overseas) contributed to the destruction of my home town.  I watched my friends and schoolmates move away as I was growing up.  I watched as our town turned into a poverty stricken ghost town.  My family at times was reduced to “pay the mortgage and utilities” or “get groceries.” More than once we survived on canned tuna, off brand mac & cheese, and Cream of Wheat.  .

Yes, in spite of what the pundits try to say- that people in my demographic, i.e. middle aged, white professional women, can’t possibly support a “racist” or “woman-hater” like Donald Trump, I beg to strongly disagree.

donald-trump-businessjunkee

Trump is giving people like me, yes even women, a voice.  He’s saying all the things the establishment drones are too afraid (or too beholden to their donors) to say.  He is saying what many of us have been thinking and hoping for, and that we’ve been denied all these years.  We voted for establishment Republicans hoping to get away from the failed and dangerous policies of the dreadful socialist/globalist/terrorist supporting Democrats- and the people we voted for to fight those failed policies just go right along with them instead of listening to the people who voted for them.

Newsflash: the media won’t tell you this, but fly over country is PISSED.

burqa

I am tired of seeing my country being invaded by foreigners who refuse to contribute to the greater society because they subscribe to a medieval death cult (i.e. Islam,) that teaches that people like me should be dead, or at the very least objectified and forced into servitude.  Yet, between Obama and his buddy Kasich (who is supposedly a Republican) they moved in 41,000 Somalian invaders (91% of them are on welfare) into north Columbus (not far from where I live.)  The long and the short of that is I am paying to support people who want me dead, and I can’t do anything about it.  Nobody asked me- or anyone else in central Ohio- if they wanted these moochers planted here.  Do we really want little Mogadishu in the middle of Ohio? I know I sure as hell don’t. They destroyed their own country, and sure as night follows day they will mooch and pillage and destroy ours as well.

bangladesh-islamic-terrorism

This isn’t Detroit…yet.

I don’t know if Trump will be able to “fix” what’s wrong in this country but he is at least naming and addressing the problems, which Obama and Hillary, all their sycophants, and even the establishment RINOs refuse to do.

obama-napolitano-profiling-terrorist

I don’t have a problem with American hegemony.  I really don’t.  Perhaps it was the way I was raised- that the world doesn’t owe one a living, that excellence is its own reward, and that it is inherently wrong to mooch from others.

Trump is right in that it is time for Americans to put America first.  It is past time to stop the Islamic terrorists and drug cartels who are taking advantage of our open borders and asinine immigration policies.  It is past time to establish fair trade practices, and to end the welfare dependency class. It’s not a matter of xenophobia or racism but of sheer survival.  Unless we take drastic steps to end the destruction Obama and his failed policies have brought upon us, America will go the way of Europe.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Standard
dogs, gratuitous self pity, historical interest, misanthropy

Death, Life, Mourning and Dancing

girliessleepin

It’s been a month and I’ve just gotten to where I can talk about it.  Yes, Clara was a dog, but there are some dogs who are more than dogs. Even now, just remembering her big, soft ears and deep brown eyes, and the way she would lean on me so hard she almost knocked me down at times, brings me to tears.  I know that the love of dogs has a price- their lives are far too short.

Everything I had learned of the Malinois breed indicated they are noted for health and longevity. Most of the 12 years she lived in our home she was happy, healthy and robust.  In spite of Clara’s difficult start as a rescued dog with a laundry list of physical and emotional issues, she healed and blossomed with us.  She mentored our other dogs.  She visited the nursing home when my Grandma was there, and offered comfort to many of the residents. Clara was a gentle, intuitive dog, who even took care to mentor Brutus, her final protégé, who she had a month to teach, until she got ill.  He has many of the same beautiful, intuitive traits Clara had.  His gentleness reminds me of her.

Brutus

I am thankful her final illness was brief.  It took only a week from the time I noticed she was getting a bit melancholy and slow, then she stopped eating, and by then she was displaying all the classic signs of congestive heart failure.  We took her, and for the first and only time, I had to lift her in and out of the truck- to our long time family vet.  I hoped the vet would have a different answer than what I knew to be inevitable.

clarakayla620

Our vet knew the labored breathing and heavy plodding of a dying dog all too well though. One look at a dog who used to be vibrant and alert and active, but now was struggling just to breathe and move a few steps, was enough for the vet to conclude that given her age, and the signs of heart and probably multiple organ failure, that Clara was, indeed, dying. We agreed that letting Clara go in peace without pain would be far more humane than heroics that may or may not buy a week or two. I held her in my arms as she passed, so she would know how much she was loved. We buried her near the gate she used to guard.

Clara 14 small

Clara was 14.  I was blessed to have her for a little more than 12 of those years.

Unfortunately there is more impending death around me, and it will cut even deeper than losing Clara.  Jerry is getting more and more ill from the pulmonary fibrosis.  He keeps getting put on more meds. He tires easily and is spending more and more time on the oxygen box.  The only hope for him to improve- and hopefully not die right away- is to get him on track for a lung transplant.  He will have to go on disability to do that, which will be at most optimistic, the very least a month or two away.

To add more to the chaos in my life, we will be moving as we are buying my grandmother’s old house.  Dad is selling it to us, and I am glad to get the strangers he’s been renting it to gone. They are supposed to be out tomorrow, then I can assess what needs to be done before we can move in.  I will have a lot longer drive to work for me, but it will get him into a quiet neighborhood out of the city.  The house is small but the yard is huge and there will (soon) be a large fence so the dogs can go out safely.

clarawindow1

Talk about the psychological maelstrom that I am trying to navigate.  I want Jerry to stay healthy enough for a lung transplant but the reality is that I may lose him too.  Yes, he is difficult and high maintenance, and he takes out his frustration on his health issues on me, but contrary to logic and reason, I am in this regardless.  Death, life, mourning or dancing- it’s all part of the drama of life.

I am looking forward to moving if only because it feels like I’m going home.  I will finally be able to be in a home I will own, that nobody can arbitrarily throw me out of, and my grandparents’ house will stay in the family. I’ll also be closer to my parents, my son and my granddaughter.

 

Standard