political commentary

Conservative Republican opinion, what’s politically auspicious

A Well-Deserved Rebuke, Losing Perspective, and Whiny Minorities

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I got a very pointed reminder today from one of my closest friends (who I’ve not seen in years) that I have been pathetically lax in doing the things that friends do- i.e. communicating…   He didn’t come right out and say that in so many words, but the correspondence he sent me certainly implied it, and I get the point.  I can count on one hand the people I actually consider to be friends versus casual acquaintances or family I have to tolerate because they’re blood, and he is one of the two human beings on Earth who know me better than anyone except for God Himself.  There really is no good excuse for me being so distant.  I can say that my health issues or work or Jerry’s high maintenance demands are the culprits, but to do that is a cop out.  It’s been over a year since the hysterectomy so that’s not an excuse, (my health has improved most markedly since then)  I used to work a lot more hours than I do now, so it’s not really about time, and Jerry always was and always will be high maintenance and jealous of every second I fail to spend kissing his ass.

So the thing that’s holding me back is the thing that always holds me back.  Fear.  I am afraid to make a simple phone call to my closest friend because I am afraid that he will tell me what I already know.  I’m getting used, abused and ran like a railroad, I allow it to happen, and I’ve allowed it to happen my entire life.  He has told me that for years even though I know it already and I’ve failed to do anything about it.   I am a rather pathetic specimen in more ways than one.  But I did make the call, and at least had the courage to leave a voice mail, for what it’s worth.

I’m tired of living in fear, and I need to break that particular bad habit.  I also have to have the decency and the just plain humanity to maintain the relationships and the people who have maintained me and grown my soul.   The caveat here is to maintain such relationships in an honorable and good way.  Running from them is not an answer.  Since when did I give a rat’s ass what anyone else thinks of me except for God Himself?  The touchy part of this is that in my quest to “do the right thing” I’ve gotten so hung up on morality and rules and conventions that I ignore people.  I’m afraid to maintain a dialogue with my friends- especially those of the opposite gender- because I am afraid that I will fall down the slippery slope.  I guess it’s hard to be bad to other people when you avoid them, but it’s also bad to avoid them because then you’re not doing any good.  I admit, I use Jerry as an excuse because he does make things difficult for me, but he will always do that.  Sometimes I forget that socially and emotionally he has a mental age of about four.  I’m not saying that to criticize because I am an emotional cripple myself.

I have lost my perspective and have come damned close to losing whatever honor I ever had.  I know emotions are a really difficult area for me, but running away from them and failing to be honest with myself regarding how I feel and who and what I deem to be important is not working. 

I have to admit, nobody does apathy like I do.  Then again, if I get something in my craw it’s hard for me to do or think of anything else.

Especially when the large groups are trucked in from Michigan and West Virginia to protest at the Ohio statehouse, so the media will think that most of the people in Ohio are all for continuing the status quo instead of actually addressing the graft and waste in state and local government.  Nice try, but I hope that the Governor as well as the General Assembly have enough sense to understand that the union protesters are a very small but very whiny minority. 

The tail has wagged the dog long enough.

That goes for every other whiny minority out there too, including any racial group who thinks they are owed reparations because their distant ancestors were slaves, including the litigation happy trial lawyers, including the special rights for gays contingent, and anyone else out there who believes they are entitled to special protections or perks that the majority is not entitled to.

The bottom line:

Anyone who goes back far enough in their genealogy will find ancestors who were slaves.  I have a good number of Scots in my lineage, but I really don’t feel compelled to go back on Great Britain to seek reparations for the Scots in my ancestry who were enslaved, oppressed or killed back in antiquity.  Nor do I feel compelled to go to the US government to seek reparations for their treatment of my Cherokee ancestors.

Anyone who feels compelled to sue someone else because of their own stupidity and negligence (remember the lawsuit over McDonald’s coffee being hot?) should be 1. laughed right out of court, and 2. fined for wasting the court’s time with bullshit.  The bottom feeding trial lawyers who make a killing on insurance fraud and frivolous, bullshit litigation should be fined also, and then required to make restitution to the honest part of society by picking up trash along the freeways and serving the homeless  who come to the soup kitchens.

I don’t really care what people do in the privacy of their own bedrooms, and I really don’t care if a person is gay, straight, bi, furry, whatever, as long as they abide by the rules and contribute to society.  However, getting special treatment because of one’s lifestyle choice is not only unfair, but it has been proven by medical science that the gay lifestyle leads to a  host of serious health concerns.  We also know from history that rampant homosexuality led to the decline of both the Greek and Roman societies in antiquity.  Do we really think that sanctioning homosexual partnerships and claiming them to be as good if not better than heterosexual marriage is a good thing for society in general?  How about a legal process in which one’s partner-be it a roommate, a business partner or a homosexual lover- is given the right to legally act in many of the ways that a spouse automatically is?  Marriage is for a man and a woman, with the implication that there may be breeding going on, but any two people can choose to be “legal partners” or something of that effect.  That sounds like a viable compromise to me.

I think I’ve ranted enough for today, but the lesson lingers on.  I cannot forget about and/or neglect my friends.  I don’t have that many to begin with.

Government, Unions and Common Sense- Finally?

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 I’ve said it many times.  I am not a fan of Obama.  I think he is the worst American President in history so far- so much so that he makes Jimmy Carter look good, and almost makes Bill Clinton look great.  That is not meant as praise for either Carter or Clinton- they were both abysmal, and they both did tremendous amounts of damage.  My comparison is meant to illustrate just how much worse Obama is when compared to either Carter or Clinton.   I am also not a fan of forced unionism.  My disdain for unions is not  primarily a conservative or a Republican thing.  I am both a conservative and a Republican, for a host of good reasons, but my opposition to forced unionism comes from what I witnessed first hand growing up. 

I know that every story has two sides.  I also know that there were myriad factors that went into the death of manufacturing in the Rust Belt- foreign competition, poor management practices, the cost of materials, the oil crisis, and even environmental issues.  But the most visible and direct contribution to the failure of heavy manufacturing in Ohio can be traced back to fear of union violence and actual incidents of union violence that took place.

I don’t have a problem with a person’s choice to organize with others of like mind.   There is strength in numbers and there are times when it is both necessary and commendable to stand up for basic human decency.  There was a time when unions had a good purpose- to ensure that workers had decent working conditions and fair wages.  Had employers seen their employees as assets that need to be maintained and grown rather than as being expendable or disposable, there would never had been a need for workers to organize to begin with.  Ultimately the root cause of union abuse goes back to poor management practices.  Every action has a reaction.  The reaction to poor working conditions in the late 19th and early 20th centuries evolved throughout the second half of the 20th century and became a monster- especially in states such as Ohio that allow forced unionism. 

Power corrupts, absolute power corrupts absolutely (Lord Acton, 1887)

For those who don’t know how forced unionism works, basically what happens is that a shop or a government agency, etc. holds an election and votes to see if a majority of people in that workplace want to be a part of a union or not.  Even those who voted against the union must either join or pay the union a fee (up to the cost of full union dues) for “collective bargaining services.”  So even those who are ideologically or morally opposed to what the union stands for, and who are opposed to who the union contributes financially toward are forced to support it- even if they don’t technically join.

I have argued for years that forced unionism violates the 13th Amendment (no involuntary servitude) by forcing people to pay into an organization as a condition of employment.  In many cases workers’ 1st Amendment rights are violated as well, as many (though not all) unions contribute to organizations and causes that many are morally opposed to.  For instance, a union’s support of “pro-choice” (I think pro-death is more accurate, but I digress) candidates (the Democratic party in general…) and contributions to far-left organizations such as NARAL or GLAAD may be seen as being morally wrong by Catholics and most other Christians.  Yet a large part of their union dues are being funneled into dark places that have little or nothing to do with “collective bargaining” and into causes they would never voluntarily contribute to.

Another side of union corruption and graft is in the wrongful manipulation and exploitation of employers, especially in the public sector, when the employer is a branch of government.  Everyone has heard the legends of grandiose pay plans, three people paid to do one job inefficiently, health insurance benefits that rival those of Congress, and paid leaves and vacations that would make a sane person wonder if any work ever gets done. 

I am all for an honest wage for honest work.  I am all for people being able to get the health care they need- without having to do what I do, which is decide from week to week if I can have groceries or scripts, and skimping or just plain going without certain things because I can’t afford them.  The problem I have is that people like me are (involuntarily) forced to pay not just for government waste and redundancy in human resources, but for the entire welfare state too- and as a result, people like me go without things like scripts, or food, or underwear that don’t look like the dogs played tug-of-war with them, that they need- so that some people can get their food, scripts, glasses, cell phones, fancy designer sneakers, and medical devices (including pecker pumps??) for free.

The bottom line here is a simple economics lesson.  You can’t pay someone more than they’re worth.  In order to pay an employee $5, you need to get at least $5 worth of work out of that employee.  That sounds obvious, but in reality it doesn’t always happen, especially when there is no accountability and no structure in place to ensure that taxpayers’ money is spent responsibly.   Part of the problem in the public sector is that many (though by no means all) jobs are grossly overpaid.  The taxpayer is being overcharged for the benefit or the service offered, and in the grand scheme of things, as in the private sector, this cannot be sustained. 

I have often wondered why there is such opposition to Right-to-Work, in which an individual chooses for him or herself whether he or she wants to belong to or pay into a union.  If unions are so great, then why is there so much legislation and so many loopholes in the law to shelter them?  If everyone wanted to be in the union, then why would anyone be required to join or to pay into them?

Elected officials and others within the government bureaucracy have forgotten that it is the private sector who picks up their tab.  The private sector is tapped out.  Those of us who keep the private sector running are tapped out.  Business fails to be competitive in part because so much is exacted out of business from government in the forms of excessive regulation and taxation. 

As much as the lunatic fringe in NE Ohio is screaming, I am convinced that our new Governor has struck a nerve.  Say what one will about Kasich- he can be rude and crass, and he’s definitely not “warm and fuzzy”- but finally, about 40 years late  (late is better than never!) we have someone in public office willing to address the obvious, and who is not owned by the unions.   The main question I have at this late hour is whether or not Ohio’s manufacturing cities are too far gone to save.  I watched my hometown shrink in size by more than half over the span of a decade as I was growing up.  I drive past the ghosts of what were once world-renowned manufacturing companies every time I go back home.   The images- and the ruined lives- haunt me.

There has to be some common sense injected into government.  Taming the public service unions is the first step. 

What the media and the common person have lost sight of is that nothing is free.  Taxpayers- people like me- are paying for the salaries, perks and benefits of government workers.  Government is not an entity and means in and of itself.  It needs the private sector to survive, and the private sector has been sucked dry.  Anyone who doesn’t believe that, I can take you on a nice little tour of the industrial ruins of Marion that might change your mind. It may not be popular with some, but the beast that government on all levels has become must be restrained.

This was once part of the Marion Power Shovel assembly line, etc.  It extended for almost five miles down the west end of town, and one can still see most of the ruins of it today.  Someday, before even more of it decays and is hauled away, I need to take a walking tour and take some close up pics.  It really was quite an amazing thing at one time.

Potty Trained and Literate, and Other Parenting Goals

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Dad always said that he enjoyed children once they were potty trained and literate.  Mastering these basic skills can occur for some children by the age of five, but I do not have a whole lot of confidence in a young child’s toileting accuracy, and few children gain reasonable command of the written word until about the age of eight or nine.  I can understand why Dad is rather uncomfortable in the presence of infants, toddlers and preschoolers.  He’s sensitive to smells, and he has an almost phobic reaction to the bodily effluvia of others.  After the age of eight or nine kids are a bit less messy.  It is far less likely that they will pee, poo, puke or snot all over you by that time.  They understand using the toilet, and hopefully before they hit puberty, they will understand snot is not a condiment, and they should also have a rudimentary knowledge of how to use Kleenex. 

Steve-o has been potty trained and literate for about ten years, which for a male is pretty good.  When I say “potty trained,” I mean fully trained, as in (for males, anyway) we aim and achieve our target without spraying the entire bathroom floor, AND we both wipe and flush every time, after dropping a deuce.  He could read relatively well by the age of seven, but it took a long, long time for him to get “wipe and flush every time” down.  

There are few things more disgusting than walking into the bathroom to find a huge corn-loaded turd floating in the toilet bowl, coiled up all alone, without any paper to keep him company.   The only thing worse than walking into that sensory gag-fest every time young Steve-o pinched a loaf was his “science” experiment involving Flamin’ Hot Cheetos.   I will comment a bit on this.  If you eat nothing but Flamin’ Hot Cheetos for three days straight, your feces will be exactly the same color as Flamin’ Hot Cheetos.

I do have some standards.  If you want to see hot red-orange poo, go troll about on Rate My Poo for awhile.  Trust me, there you will find all things poo and then some.

We are working on the Holy Grail of parenting right now, which is: Gainful Employment and Independence from the Parental Units.

Steve-o did work at Taco Bell during his last two years of high school, but for some reason he either can’t seem to find a job or (my personal suspicion) doesn’t want to find a job while going to college.  This is vexing to me- and a major contributor to my constant state of poverty.  The only thing I can hope for is that when he graduates he finds gainful employment and becomes an independent, self-sustaining, meaningful contributor to society.

Some people hold lofty goals for their children, but I’m a realist.  So far Steve-o’s done pretty well, especially when one examines the lame track record of his age cohorts.  He’s stayed out of jail, and as far as I know he doesn’t have a horde of baby mamas after him, nor has he fathered any offspring that I know about, anyway.  I am not opposed to the whole grandmother thing- I’m old enough for it and I like kids well enough as long as they’re not mine and I can send them home- but he’s got to be able to pay for his own rugrats.  I’d also like to request that he be married to the potential baby mama, although these days that’s a lot to ask. 

In some ways Steve-o is better trained than Jerry is.  Jerry is gainfully employed which gives him the overall advantage, but Steve-o is getting close, and he has already surpassed Jerry in matters of etiquette.  While Jerry generally does wipe and flush, aiming is still a weak area for him, especially after a twelve pack or so of Natties.  Older men should sit and pee anyway, because it’s a long, long time and a far, far distance to have to keep that stream steady, and I’m getting too old to have to keep scrubbing dried up stale pee from the toilet and vicinity.

Jerry does reasonably well when he’s sober, considering he was raised by wolves.  When he’s wasted of course, all decorum goes right out the window and he has the potential to piss in the closet, moon the picture window, run outside in nothing but whitey tighties and a smile, and to play horrible old country music at obscenely loud volumes.   I’ve tried to socialize him somewhat, but in practical application, I’ve had better luck with Sheena.  Sheena has learned to sit and be polite if she wants a munchie, she will go to her crate on command, and she knows her name.  She is also very affectionate and sweet.  This is no small accomplishment for a dog who has only been with us for about 90 days.  Granted, Sheena is not the most intelligent dog I have ever encountered (Huskies can be a bit stubborn and dim-witted, and Sheena is no exception) and her physical coordination is abysmal, but she’s a lot easier to manage than Jerry when he’s 15 beers or so into it.

Dogs are easier than kids by a long shot- the worst thing a dog might do is to drop a deuce on the floor or knock something over.  Kids can get into all sorts of trouble, cost all kinds of money, and can end up in jail.  What really sort of sucks is that even after they turn 18 and you should technically be done with them they still cost a boat load of money, hence my anticipation of the day that Steve-o truly takes on his own adult responsibilities for himself. 

The main problem with breeding is the wrong people are doing it.  I was watching an episode of The First 48 (yeah, I love cop shows) last night and one of the murder suspects being interviewed admitted to, “well I have about five baby mamas and two on the way.”  The same scum bucket was found to be guilty of capital murder and received a life sentence.  Guess who’s paying for those seven kids?  Daddy certainly isn’t, that’s for sure.

I don’t believe in abortion or infanticide or anything Godless and evil like that- it’s not the kids’ faults their parents are scum.  I find it ironic that the same people who advocate mollycoddling violent criminals and murderers oppose the death penalty, but have no problem with abortion.  Isn’t that more than a little backward?

I do, however, believe in preventing ill-advised conceptions in the first place, and I have absolutely no problem with society carrying out its obligation to preserve public safety and to deter crime by executing violent criminals (murderers, rapists and child molesters) swiftly and publicly.

Which One Doesn’t Belong?, Evil Ice, and Creative Timing

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“Uh, the Doritos and Twinkies sort of taste like spermicidal lube!”

I guess one could think of condoms as “picnic supplies,” though that is a bit of a stretch.  It’s been almost 20 years since I’ve been lucky enough to indulge in a “nooner,” though I do understand some people see action more than once every other decade or so.    If I found it necessary to include condoms in my picnic planning, I would be more concerned as to how often the gas stations rotate stock. 

Speaking of which I am always sure to check the expiration dates on any edibles I get from gas stations.  I would have taken a pic of it if I’d had the camera on me, but I spotted some very old (and very overpriced) Tums in a Speedway station on New Year’s Eve.  I remember this because I’d stopped there to pick up some more Diet Rockstar on the way to the New Year’s Party and Jerry had wanted some Tums.  Under the thick film of dust I was able to spot an expiration date- 2-2001.  I can guarantee that if the Trojans in the Speedway date back to 2001 that they probably aren’t going to be terribly effective at preventing STDs or unplanned pregnancies. 

I wasn’t cruel enough to buy Jerry the expired Tums, but I did rotate them up front so the oldest stock would be the first one someone else grabs.  In most retail stores the freshest stuff is in the back as the old stock is supposed to be rotated up front so it’s sold first.  I admit it, I look at the dates and I try to find the freshest one possible even if it is clear in the back.  The only exception to this is sale meat, which they mark down because it’s almost expired.  I buy sale meat and freeze it or cook it right away so the date really doesn’t matter as long as it’s not expired or already turning green.

I know a lot of edibles are still edible far, far out from the expiration dates but there are some things I don’t take a chance on, and if I have to pay the same amount for something that expires tomorrow vs. something that expires next week, I want the one that expires next week.  I know, it ‘s a mind game, but it makes me feel as if I’m more savvy in getting the fresher one.

Central Ohio weather is usually sucky in one way or another but today and tomorrow we are being hit with freezing rain and ice storms.  I don’t mind snow so much but I hate the ice.  I almost fell on my ass several times just trying to get in my car this morning. It’s always precious to try to chisel half an inch of ice off of the car just to be able to drive it too. 

However, the ice storm made it a lot easier to get right in to Great Clips over lunch.  I got my hair cut and out the door in about ten minutes which was very nice.  I don’t like anyone fingering my hair but getting my hair cut is a necessary evil, especially as I like it kept short.  I was also able to go to Sally’s for face Nair so I don’t have to do those little tasks later. 

Hopefully I will go home and will be able to enjoy my pork and kraut in peace.  I’ve had a lovely pork roast slow cooking all day today.

I find the above illustration at the least, disturbing, and at the most, downright infuriating.  I understand that universities make a LOT of money off their sports programs (I live in Columbus after all.  Our only professional sports teams are hockey and soccer.  Since we don’t have an NFL team in Columbus- I have been told there are no good NFL teams in Ohio- I get to hear the OSU football hoo-hah constantly) but why do they continue to pretend that the “student athletes” are “students?”  Wouldn’t it just make more sense to give the scholarships to those who can make the most use of them (i.e. those with I.Q.s a little higher than that of paint) and just pay the best football players to play football for them? 

Let’s face it.  There are guys who can play football and there are guys who can understand nuclear physics, and do all kinds of important scientific research and so forth.  They are usually NOT the same guy. I know in rare instances jocks can have brains too, but intellectual prowess and sports prowess are almost always mutually exclusive.

I would be curious to know just how much intellect goes unrecognized in this world because the holders of said intellect weren’t able to afford to pay for the expensive pieces of paper to prove it.

I also wonder how many people have the expensive pieces of paper without the intellect and knowledge that should have to go behind them.  I know I have encountered many, especially within the world of education, which is especially ironic.

This particular thought train is starting to piss me off.

Perhaps the brainiacs aren’t as fun to watch as football (??) but I’ll have you know that people with above average I.Q.s tend to have below average physical coordination.  We fall a lot. 

But I’d still rather be a smart ass than a dumb ass, even if I could play football and go to school for free.

The “Crazy as a Shithouse Rat” Files

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How can you say no to a request like that?  I, for one, will be absolutely sure to keep my munchables good and far away from the toilet brush holder.

My grandfather (my Dad’s Dad) was one of the most taciturn individuals I’ve ever known- I think he could go days with little more than a grunt or a “yep” or “nope” when asked a direct question.  He could read Louis L’Amour or Zane Grey and watch Westerns for days on end without saying a word to anyone unless he was asked a question.  Grandpa didn’t usually talk unless there was something worth talking about. 

There were certain people in the public eye who he would comment on, and when he did, the tirades were priceless.  For some reason he didn’t much like Jimmy Carter. When President Carter was in the news, Grandpa would go on and on as to why Jimmy should have stayed down in Georgia picking peanuts.  Nor did he like Ted Kennedy, or for that matter, the whole Kennedy family, who he saw as being “Nazi-loving tomcats.”  I always wondered about that statement as a child, but in light of evidence suggesting Joe Kennedy’s pre -WWII support of Hitler and Nazism when he was Ambassador to England, I believe Grandpa actually did know what he was talking about regarding the Kennedys.  Grandpa didn’t care a whole lot for Reagan at first, either (I’ll forgive him for that) as he wasn’t much of a fan of his acting, and Grandpa thought him too old to be President,  but he did gain a lot of respect for Reagan after the assassination attempt. 

But when Grandpa had a really low opinion of someone, he would consider them “crazy as a shithouse rat.”  I have been known to use that simile myself in regard to certain people, but coming from Grandpa the phrase had a deeper dimension to it.  Until the early 1960’s they did not have an indoor toilet.  He used an outhouse for many years and probably encountered real live shithouse rats.  I remember an incident from when I was maybe five or six years old that helped illustrate the point. 

Back in the 1970’s there was still an open sewer that ran parallel to the railroad tracks that were not even a block away from my grandparents’ house.   We didn’t really understand what it was, we just called it the QuQua ditch, and we knew that the water in it was really dirty. It was OK to float paper boats in it- if you could stand the smell- but you dared not wade in it or even touch the water.  It was several years before I learned why this was so imperative.

An absolutely huge rat – and this is no exaggeration, it was the size of a small dog- came up from the sewer grate in the street (not far from the open ditch, as the storm sewers ran directly into the QuQua, along with lots of other unspeakable things) and was leisurely strolling about in broad daylight when we kids were playing outside.  I was completely freaked by this and ran back, screaming, into my grandparents’ house.  Grandpa looked out the window, saw the rat and got a shovel from the garage.  As the rat sauntered ever closer to the yards and the sidewalk, Grandpa ran up behind it and bashed its brains out with the shovel.  He scooped up the dead rat with the shovel and dumped it in the trash.  All he said about it was that we kids should never get near any rats or possums that come up from the sewer in the daytime because they have rabies and if they bite you’ll get the rabies. 

Nobody wanted to get the rabies, believe that.  We didn’t understand what rabies is, but we didn’t want to get it either.

That was probably the closest I ever got to a literal shithouse rat.

I have had pet rats- they are smarter than gerbils or hamsters- but they still have the common rodent problem of no bowel or bladder control.  Somehow a pet loses some of its charm when it is constantly going to the bathroom on you.  Our snakes eat rats (I have a ball python and Jerry has a red-tailed boa) which is sort of difficult because the snakes like their food live.  I know, it’s weird to have snakes, but Jerry likes them, and even I have to admit they are cool to watch.

Which brings me to today’s example of “crazy as a shithouse rat.”  Sadly, he’s from Ohio, albeit the northeast corner of Ohio where the lunatic fringe tends to congregate.   Dennis Kucinich is in the news again- for suing the government over an olive pit.  And I thought Obama’s priorities were screwed.  Compared to Kucinich, Obama almost looks reasonable and sane.

Why, oh, why, don’t the voters send their space cadet of a Representative back to the mistake on the lake where he belongs?

And speaking of being a space cadet, Kucinich claims that he saw a UFO while hanging out at Shirley MacLaine’s.  And I’m the Queen of England.

It may be unfair to the rats to compare them to Kucinich- he’s truly a nut job.  However, infamy is still a form of fame.

Beam me up!

elysianhunter’s Wide World of Sports, cont., Limited Time Offers, and Political Commentary (a Bit to the Right of Reagan)

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I don’t mean the above as an insult to Special Olympics.  I’m glad that there is a venue for those with physical and/or mental challenges to participate in sports activities if they so choose. It’s great to encourage people to overcome obstacles and work hard to get healthy, have fun and achieve a higher goal.  However, the idea of the mentally challenged engaging in a motorsport seems a bit counter intuitive.  I’ve yet to see a chainsaw sculpture competition for people with tremor disorder. I hope nobody ever thinks of that one, because Jerry with a chainsaw could be a very dangerous thing. I don’t know of chess tournaments for those in a vegetative state, or beauty awards for old cougars with bodies that look like roadmaps of Atlanta either. 

Ohio State actually won the Sugar Bowl last night.  I dozed off around 9:30 or so.  I read it in the news this morning.  So now everyone can shut up about Terrelle Pryor and company getting caught hawking memorabilia and getting free tattoos- at least until next football season.

The more I think about it, I don’t think either chess or beauty pageants are technically considered sports.  I could possibly gain an interest in chess, if I had the time, motivation and a worthy opponent.  Chess requires a strategic mind. The closest I get to honing my strategic abilities is in playing freecell and other variants of solitare.  My oldest sister did the beauty pageant thing only to discover two important truths: 1.) There actually are people more vapid and self-absorbed than she was in high school, and 2.) Beauty is generally not compatible with brains.  The beauty pageant crud is also incredibly expensive.  By the time you buy the dresses and the makeup and hairdos you’ve spent a small fortune, but that’s just the beginning of the indignities. To me, the exquisite torture of being confined for inordinate lengths of time with a bevy of dingy bimbos who would like nothing better than to rip out your throat and crap down your neck is even worse than parting with boatloads of cash.  I would pay boatloads of cash to avoid confinement with dingy bimbos if I had to do so to preserve my sanity. 

Thinking about the beauty pageant tomfoolery almost makes me glad I never had a daughter, and that my son is the Straightest Man in the World.  Just ask him.

Apparently chess and beauty pageants aren’t sports, but bowling, billiards and poker are considered sports, at least on ESPN.  Poker I would have to put in the NASCAR category of “non-athletic” sport.  If it were possible to get ripped by sitting on my ass and playing cards, believe me, I’d be learning poker with the quickness.  The same goes for driving around in a continuous left turn with the pedal to the floor for 500 miles.  If I could drive my way to a buff bod, believe me I’d be on it.   I wouldn’t mind continuous driving except for one thing.  If a race is four hours long, do they wear a Depend under their racing outfit?  I don’t know of very many people who can drive for 500 miles without having to take a whiz.   Maybe they have empty Mountain Dew bottles to whiz in, like truckers do.  

Billiards (or pool) might have a bit of athleticness to it, as you do occasionally have to stretch across the table to make those awkward shots.  I thoroughly suck at shooting pool.  Bowling also requires some physical coordination, which is why I completely suck at bowling.  Even though I suck, I do like to go bowling occasionally.  I’m doing really good if I can score 100 or more.  My bowling scores are usually more like 48, 71, or 82.

I have to love the “limited time offers” I see on infomercial TV.  Probably the most hokey one I’ve seen (other than the foot washer and the pecker pump) is for colorized two dollar bills.  Basically someone thinks I am going to pay $10 plus freight for $4.  Not in this lifetime.

I try not to follow the doings of British royals too closely.  Americans don’t have royalty, but we have Hollywood, and that’s far worse.  I try not to follow Hollywood either.  Even though I am not enamored of inbred Europeans, and I generally don’t follow their escapades,  I think  the “limited time,”  “As Seen on TV” horrible knockoff of Princess Diana’s engagement ring is beyond tacky.  I can only hope that Prince William takes after his mother and not his creepy dad. It would be sad if he treats Kate as bad as old creepy Charlie treated Diana.   Ultimately Charlie got even creepier Camilla.  Charlie and Camilla are a far more appropriate match.  Eww.

On one hand, it seems to be a lovely gesture for William to give his fiancee his mother’s engagement ring.  It’s worth a huge amount of money (unlike the cheap gumball machine knockoff advertised in the commercial) but to me, considering the trainwreck Diana’s marriage was, I would consider that ring accursed.  I don’t even want a cheap gumball machine copy that will turn my finger green and has a slide adjust so it “fits any size.”  Anyone who pays $20 plus freight for this is a.) asking to share in someone else’s 30 year old curse, and b.) is stuck with yet another worthless piece of poorly made costume jewelry.

I might like it better if it were amethyst instead of sapphire, but that’s just me.  I’m not a big believer in costume jewelry with the exception of funky earrings.  If I’m going to bother to wear rings, bracelets, necklaces or watches, I want decent stuff that won’t turn me green or fall apart.  Otherwise, I just don’t need it.

The “limited time” offers seem to drag on forever and ever.  I mean, how long is Billy Mays going to be selling stuff from beyond the grave? I can imagine his Oxy Clean and Awesome Auger commercials are still going to be aired twenty years from now, and there will still be warehouses full of that crap for the hawking.  When you think they’re gone, they magically reappear, announcing for the fourth or fifth year in a row, that it’s imperative to call in the next ten minutes- to buy crap that has been sitting in some warehouse gathering dust since the Clinton administration.  I hadn’t seen the Lipozene commercial for some time, until last weekend, when it reappeared in its original form, where you pay $30 for a 60 day supply.  I tried it a few years ago, when I was just a little less cynical and had a little more money than I do now.  It doesn’t work.  Anything that sounds too good to be true generally is. 

I’ve said it many times that I am politically slightly to the right of Reagan.  I am deeply concerned that the political correctness BS has gone amok yet again.  For those who don’t know what political correctness is, I do have a summary.  If I knew who originally wrote it, I would give due credit, but I don’t. Rumor holds that the following definition was written by the winner of a Texas A&M contest in 1997, but I can neither prove nor disprove it.  I do, however, agree with it:

“Political Correctness is a doctrine, fostered by a delusional, illogical minority, and rabidly promoted by an unscrupulous mainstream media, which holds forth the proposition that it is entirely possible to pick up a turd by the clean end.”

This being said, it is downright offensive to me (but who cares when a Christian or a conservative is offended, eh?) that a distinguished Navy captain can be dismissed for some off-color videos recorded several years ago for the entertainment of his troops.  The videos may have been in poor taste, but shouldn’t the punishment fit the “crime?” It seems a bit ironic that DADT was repealed, and then *all the sudden* no one in the military can make any kind of remark (in jest or otherwise) regarding homosexuals.  I find it offensive that certain special protected groups have more right to be offended than the majority.  Nobody cares about offending a law abiding, native-born, conservative WASP, but just stand back and watch the fireworks when someone says something derogatory about Obama’s pet groups- such as gays, minorities, illegal immigrants, or convicted felons!

The Navy captain incident was bad enough (but again, nobody cares because he appears to be a native born conservative WASP type) but now a jail employee (presumably also a native born conservative WASP who nobody cares about) has been suspended for saying the “Obama Prayer.”  I need this T-shirt. 

The shirt says:

Pray for Obama

Psalm 108:9

Psalm 108:9, in the King James Version, reads:

“Let his days be few; and let another take his office.”

AMEN!

What native born, conservative WASP isn’t praying this prayer or something very similar?

Texting Acronyms and Shorthand, aka Insults on the Fly, and More Fun

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It seems that all the music Steve-o is into sounds like bad porno movie soundtracks.  I’ve never been a techno fan so maybe that’s a little unfair, but ewwww!  It’s not my age.  New music- even what the radio stations try to pass off as being rock and/or metal- does bite the big one.  For example, every time I hear the Five Finger Death Punch version of the song “Bad Company,” I want to projectile vomit.  They took a good song and made it suck.   I like the original version that was recorded by the real Bad Company.  Do me a favor and play the real song!  I generally despise modern remakes of good old songs, especially when mediocre bands attempt them.  Then again, with a lot of these mediocre new bands, their original stuff is a lot worse than their lame cover material.  I’m glad most of the old stuff that was really good and that I do like has been converted to MP3, so old farts can enjoy music worth listening to.

I am generally not too big on texting lingo as I get a bit confused by some of the acronyms and abbreviations.  There is a handy decoder site for said acronyms and abbreviations which is proving most useful.  I actually enjoy a few of them, such as:

BBFBBM: Body by Fisher, Brains by Mattel (why are the hot ones usually a little slow on the uptake?)

CINBA: Clad in Naught but Air (could be good or bad, depending upon the message sender)

CRD: Caucasian Rhythm Disorder (I know this one really well, being a sufferer and all!)

DIAF:  Die in a Fire  (isn’t that a lovely thing to wish on one’s enemies?)

FOL: Fond of Leather (again, depends upon the relative hotness of the sender)

GGP: Gotta Go Pee (that’s lame, because there’s no law against texting on the throne, yet!)

HBIC: Head Bitch in Charge (that would be me)

I&I: Intercourse and Inebriation (oh, bloody hell, not since 1993 or thereabouts)

IDGARA: I Don’t Give a Rat’s Ass (also known as the Cliff’s Notes’ commentary on possibly 95% of the crap I see in the news or on TV)

IJPMP: I Just Pissed My Pants (perhaps from a fit of explosive laughter or a severe coughing fit, but never a good thing)

KIPPERS: Kids in Parents’ Pockets Eroding Retirement Savings (no shit! got one of those)

LOPSOD: Long on Promises, Short on Delivery (the Cliff’s Notes’ version of the Obama presidency!)

LORE: Learn Once, Repeat Everywhere (a toddler learning swear words, or a teen girl spreading gossip- same concept)

MTBF: Mean Time Before Failure (pessimistic, but often true)

NWAL: Nerd Without a Life (I certainly get this one.  When I start having conversations with my dogs on philosophical issues, for example.)

PBIAB: Payback is a Bitch (No shit!)

PFA: Pulled from Ass (could mean a lot of things, but not usually good)

POTATO: People Over Thirty Acting Twenty One (Jerry, when he’s partying, only it would be more like People Over Fifty Acting Three- go POFAT s~!)

RCI: Recto-Cranial Inversion (a nice way of saying someone has his/her head stuck up his/her ass.)

RTH: Release the Hounds (I can think of a number of people whose faces Clara might want to chew on, who richly deserve it too.)

SAIA: Stupid Asses In Action (Congress?)

WTHOW: White Trash Headline of the Week (Hot damn, WalMart’s havin’ a sale on ammo, Bubba!)

My son often communicates in text-speak which is a bit awkward for me.  Then again, when I learned to write, computers and word processing were expensive novelties.   We had to actually hand-write assignments, or type them on an old-time typewriter (more of a pain in the ass than actually writing them out long hand, in my opinion.)   Steve-o just writes everything in Word, saves it on his flash drive and prints it at school. 

I have to share this one because it reminds me of Jerry.  He throws a fit if he fails to receive flaming-hot french fries.  This guy in Sandusky had a real problem with his cold fries.

“…Police say they were called when the customer said he wouldn’t leave until he got different fries. He told officers a McDonald’s employee struck him with a mop.

The Sandusky Register reports that a witness said the worker acted only as though he was going to hit the man and said the customer called the employee a derogatory name.

No charges were filed. Police say the man got his money back and left without fries…”

I’m glad the McTeamMember got him with a mop.  I’m also glad Jerry hasn’t gone to Sandusky lately.

As I have said before, any employer who refers to employees as anything other than employees is generally going to be a shitty place to work for. Avoid such employers if you can.  “Team Member” is probably the worst term for employee out there. I particularly despise this euphemism, as firms who refer to their employees as “Team Members” tend also to employ managers who think in terms of sports metaphors (AACK!!!) and who go on and on about “team” this and “team” that. That type of manager means one thing by the dreadful “team” blather, as I have paraphrased here:  There is no “I” in “team,” but as far as I’m concerned, there is a “U”- as in, I expect “U” to do all my work…for the “team” of course.    If your firm refers to employees as “Associates,” the term might as well be abbreviated “Ass,” because you might as well bend over and expect a cornholing.

I think there should be truth in advertising, especially today when jobs are harder to come by.  Let your prospective recruits know that their job titles will reflect the nature of what they will be subjected to on the job.  “Assboy,” “Buttlick,” “Shameless Panderer,” etc. are Truth in Advertising  job descriptions, which, of course, no one would actually use.  I used to have to hire and fire people in better economic times, and then you had to try to sweeten the pot just to get them in for an interview.  I am sure that today the pickings are not quite as lean.  Your potential recruit may actually be interviewing for the position best described as “Toilet Licker,” but you present it to him as if he’s going to be the next POTUS.   Don’t, however, be surprised when he quits within the week, or the first time the technicians’ toilets back up, which ever comes first.  Very few people are accustomed to real work.

Remember: The toilet is not a diving platform.

Just When You Think You Called It Right, Not-So-Innocuous Kids’ Ditties, and “Normal” is a Relative Term

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I dare to show my ever advancing age here.  I graduated from high school (1986) and college (1989) long, long before Columbine.  When I was in elementary school- back in the dark ages when the apex of technology was the Atari Pong game, and people thought we were “rich” because Dad was one of the first in town to insist upon having the wonderful thirteen channels of Cable instead of endeavoring like everyone else to get the three Columbus channels that were almost impossible to get even with an antenna- we used to sing a nice little ditty in honor of teachers we disliked:

(To the tune of Battle Hymn of the Republic):

Glory, glory, hallelujah, teacher hit me with a ruler  / Came in the door with a loaded .44, now teacher ain’t teachin’ no more

I really can’t imagine any kid belting out this little song today unless they really want to be sent to the school psychologist,  suspended , expelled or all three.  Kids get sent home for having plastic Army men with guns on them.  What are the Army men supposed to have?  Earrings and tinklebells?  I shudder to think of the ongoing wussification of the young, but then again, kids today take statements such as “came in the door with a loaded .44” a lot more literally these days.  Back then no one would have actually thought about shooting a teacher- it was merely a humorous visual like the stuff we would see on Tom and Jerry cartoons. 

Now I am all about identifying truly psychotic and homicidal rug rats early on, but singing a funny little song is not quite the same thing as displaying elements of the homicidal triad, which are: 1. Bedwetting, 2. Fire starting, and 3. Torturing animals.   Usually the schools aren’t in the position to observe those signs, unless the kid sets a fire in the school.  We did have a couple of fire bugs when I was in school who set fires in the trash cans so they could get out of school on a fire drill.  I think the principal beat one of them within an inch of his life, and the kid’s Dad whaled on him again when he got home.  I don’t think he set any more fires.   From what I’ve seen of the school system mentality they are so paranoid about a replay of Columbine that the kid who forgets he has his pocket knife in his pants,  or a kid who brings an Army man with his harmless tiny miniature plastic M16 to school is subject to extreme prejudice, but from what I see the little psychos go undetected.  

Another lovely little song we enjoyed singing that would raise eyebrows today went as followed:

Comet, it makes your mouth turn green / Comet, it tastes like gasoline / Comet, it makes you vomit/ So try some Comet and vomit today!

I can just imagine some little dumb ass trying this one.  The lawsuits…

Of course we were not politically correct, either.  Few kids got more teasing than the fat kids.   Granted back in the day everyone was poor so there were a lot fewer Really Fat Kids.  Today there’s a lot more kids in the “fatty fatty two by four” category, so there probably isn’t a lot of fat harassment.  The skinny kids, being in the minority, likely get the shit now.

Who doesn’t remember taunting the Fat Kid with:

Fatty, fatty two by four/ Couldn’t get through the bathroom door / So he did it on the floor / Licked it up and did some more/ Fatty, fatty two by four

I usually left the Fat Kids alone though, because being the Biggest Nerd in School who got beaten up everyday and whose wardrobe looked like there had been an explosion at the thrift store, was even worse than being a Fat Kid.  Besides, I was very tiny for my age in elementary school, and I was very frail for a long time after I had rheumatic fever.   I didn’t want any of the Fat Kids to pin me down and sit on me. 

Normal is definitely a relative term.  What is normal for me is most certainly abnormal for the rest of humanity, which is fine- I am used to my own parameters and I learned at an early age that the only opinion that really matters to me is my own. 

Our household has returned to some semblance of normal since last night.  I didn’t think Jerry could bear to let Sheena go, but we were really surprised when someone contacted us from the Craig’s List ad (and yes I am extremely cynical of using Craig’s List for anything) wanting to take a look at Sheena.  Come to find out the guy is former military and had experience with military dogs, which is why he wanted a GSD.  To make a long story much shorter, we interviewed him pretty heavily.  He brought his dog to come and visit and see if he (the dog) and Sheena would get along.  I think it will be a perfect fit for her as they have a good sized home and lot up in Delaware County and he has promised to keep in contact with us.  He is taking Sheena to the Vet today to get the ball rolling on her vacs, determing health status and hopefully to schedule her spay surgery.  He and his kid and their other dog seemed delighted with her and I feel good about the placement.  I don’t mind just having two dogs.  Clara and Lilo are used to each other and we’ve already gotten past the high-maintenance phase with them.  Of course if this guy changes his mind about Sheena we will gladly take her back, but at this place and time I think this is the best thing both for her and for us.   We can care for her well enough but this guy is equipped to do even better for her than we can.  Fluffy-Butt and Fanny have finally come back up from being in hiding in the basement.  It was nice to actually see and interact with all three cats this morning.  Isabel isn’t phased by dogs one way or the other, but the other two cats really only tolerate Clara and Lilo.  In a way I will miss Sheena- and she is a lovely dog- but I don’t miss playing food referee or going through the attention and territory wars that are inevitable when you add a dog.  Heidi was easy because she was old and only really concerned about meals, comfortable napping spots and an occasional roll in the warm grass.   I missed the judgment call on that one- I didn’t think Jerry had it in him to let her go- but I really believe Sheena will do as well if not even a bit better in her new home.  It will certainly be a damn sight better than scavenging around the campground all winter or being confined in a small pen and left to gnaw on cage bars, which is what would have happened to her had we left her there, or even worse.  We may not be the Ritz-Carlton but our home is very dog-friendly.  Clara and Lilo are not lacking anything, and I think they prefer their close knit little sorority of two.  They complement each other, and they got their fighting and competition out long ago.

 

Expiration Dates, Fascination With the Macabre, and Sheena of the Jungle

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I hesitated to say anything about Sheena for a number of reasons, one, that Jerry insisted that we were only taking Sheena home to *find a new home for her.*  Famous last words.  He said that about Isabel (our very tiny but domineering black cat) 12 1/2 years ago too, but once I had her spayed and declawed and all that, suddenly “three cats aren’t that many.”  At certain times we have had four cats at one time. Now we are at three cats and I’m cool with that.   For most of the past 5 years we have also had three dogs.  We have three dogs again now.

Sheena, like every other dog that has crossed our threshold, is a basket case.  She is a very lovely GSD/Husky mix, about 70# of unsocialized, attention-starved dog. 

Her story is yet another that inspires the misanthropist in me though.  She came from near the campground, from a nasty little trash pile that I shudder to think was a habitation for scavengers, let alone humans, but there were people living there in a derelict house trailer with various car parts, disassembled appliances, a PortoJohn, and piles of filth and trash.  This poor dog was a refugee from this disaster hole when the human denizens disappeared a few weeks ago.  She had been scavenging around the campground and accepting food from anyone who would give it to her.   Sheena was more fortunate than the min-pins they had locked in cages behind this cesspool- they were still alive but half starved. We left them food and called the Humane Society.  The Humane Society picked the min-pins up.

The main thing that breaks my heart about Sheena is that she lived most of her live in a small pen.  Because of this she became a cage biter- gnawing on the metal bars of the pen until she wore her incisors down to the gums and her canine teeth are little stubs.  She also appears to have had multiple litters of pups from the look of her belly.  I just hope she’s not preggers now, and that she doesn’t come into heat before we can get her spayed. 

Some people just plain suck.  Sheena is adapting well to life with the crazy dogs (Clara and Lilo) but nothing can fix her dental issues.  For the rest of her life she will have to either eat wet food or dry food stuck together with wet food or gravy, because the only teeth she has that are intact and functional are the molars in the back.  I have heard of military and police dogs getting dental implants and/or protective crowns, but short of us coming into some sort of fantastic and overwhelming financial windfall, I can’t see us being able to come up with thousands of dollars for poor Sheena to be fitted with crowns – an expensive endeavor which is only nominally successful in dogs anyway.  Since her gums don’t appear to be inflamed or infected I really don’t think her existing tooth roots/stubbies need to be removed or that her dental issues are going to impact her health or quality of life too adversely.  That will be another question for the Vet.

I find it amazing that everything from car wax to Cheetos has an expiration date stamped on it.  If modern packaging is supposed to halt the inevitability of decay for an inordinate amount of time, who sets the arbitrary limits?  Who is to say that an unopened bag of Cheetos is good until December 15?  Does this mean you can’t eat them on December 16 or even February 4 for that matter?  Is there research behind this and if so, why was I not stamped with an expiration date?  That would be an interesting tattoo- not that I am into tats nor do I ever anticipate getting one- but for the sake of the argument, let’s say the tat could say, “Fresh until July 14, 2041” or something like that.  It would be a conversation starter if nothing else.  Obama could get an expiration date tat too: “Discard Immediately: 1-20-13.”

So Now What, Creative Ideas for Avoiding Confronting My Past, and Other Inevitabilities

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I had one of these. An 83 GTI just like the one pictured, with the cool wheels and the funky red trim. Too bad my dumb ass sold it because the A/C didn’t work and I damn near gave myself a concussion every time I tried to get Steve-o in and out of his car seat.  People with kids prefer four door cars for a reason.  It’s been awhile, but trying to manage those damned car seats is hard enough without having to do calesthenics just to get in the back seat to screw with them.  Now that the powers that be are requiring kids to be in car seats until they are old enough to vote, I say screw that.  Give me four doors because it makes it easier to get the dogs in and out, and if I had to deal with carting rug rats around these days the rear seat DVD player sounds like a plan too.

Being a motorhead I have had many cars in my lifetime.  Some magic, some tragic, some forgettable.  A few of them, I wish I could have kept.  The 1972 Super Beetle was one of them.  The GTI of course, the 1994 Toyota truck, the 2000 Celica would have all remained in my possession if not for one thing: poverty.

Then again you can’t take it with you, and what’s the point of becoming a hoarder?  Need what you use and use what you need and move forward from there.

Of course getting rid of emotional baggage is a lot harder than getting rid of stuff.  I know sometimes Mom means well but I don’t need Grandma’s entire wardrobe or her entire collection of cooking utensils to remember her by.  A few keepsakes are fine but I really have no use for 50 year old stockings or all that cheap crap she bought from various mail order joints.  Some things I just threw away.  I shouldn’t guilt trip over that.  Part of living and moving on means getting rid of the things that hold us back.

Perhaps at my age I should be thinking more along the lines of the bucket list.  One of those things (and I need to stop putting it off) is to get back in contact with old friends, sooner rather than later if for no other reason than I am honor-bound and will regret my neglect if I continue to put it off.  I’m rather tired of being bereft of virtually all human contact.  I need to hold an intelligent conversation with someone for a change.  Dirty jokes and politics can only go so far.

I did get moderately good news at the Dr.’s Monday.  I don’t have hepatitis or any other Really Serious Illness- just a bit of bizarre liver chemistry that is caused by diabetes.  As long as I can keep my sugar down this condition should (in theory) right itself.  Famous last words.  Nothing about my health is routine, simple or uncomplicated.  I try to starve and eat healthy when I do eat, get the 30 minutes a day of mind numbingly boring exercise in and all that and still my health sucks and I’m still working on losing that 30 or so lbs.  Then you get people like Jerry who maintain just fine, all lean and mean, no diabetes, no sucking down blood pressure meds, on the Bacon-n-Natties diet, which puts me in mind of Gustavson’s Dad in Grumpier Old Men.  Jerry will be like those Russian dudes who live to be 115 on vodka and cigars.  I’ll probably drop dead before I’m 50 of something.  While I’m at it  with the bucket list I need to check into the urban legend that OSU will give one $250 if you donate your cadaver to them when you die.  Sounds like a sorry bargain to me, but hey, a lot of medical students have gotten some lessons in unusual anatomy off of my living carcass.  I bet my autopsy would be a real education in Murphy’s Law and what can go wrong with the human body.  Too bad I won’t be able to observe my autopsy, should one be done, or even to request that Dr. G gets to do it.  I’d love to hear her commentary on my abnormalities.  But if someone will give me $250 so med students can have a Mutter Museum type learning aid, where do I sign up?

I just answered my own question really quickly.  OSU does accept donated bodies but they don’t pay anything for them.  I should do the donation thing since I was planning on getting cremated anyway.  Might as well let someone learn something or at least see stuff they don’t see everyday.

I don’t know why I’ve been in such a morbid state of mind lately.  So now what?  Just keep on getting ready to take that “dirt nap?”

Creative artwork.  I need some whiteout and a red marker to make the fangs look more real.  I can’t die yet- right now this country needs as many conservative Republican voters as it can get!