The Curious American Fascination With Royalty, and Other Strange Vestigialities

July 31, 2013Tonya Lanthron Leave a comment

Is that a weasel or a ferret?

I never knew Queen Elizabeth I was enamored of weasels or ferrets, (the creature on her arm is an ermine- a polite name for a variety of weasel) but in Elizabethan times I’m sure a lone member of the Mustelidae family wouldn’t have added much to the general pestilence of the court. Bathing wasn’t terribly high on the priorities of most Elizabethans. Royalty did bathe more often than the peasantry, who I would assume would only get a good douching in a rainstorm. I think the royals did bathe relatively often- once a week or so- and they did have access to perfumes and soap. I shudder to think about toileting arrangements for the masses and their livestock back then though. No wonder all those people died from typhoid and cholera. Not to mention the plague, which has recently been identified in a squirrel population in California. Too bad it’s the wrong kind of squirrel population.

These aren’t the squirrels to which I refer.

I’ve always thought it a bit strange that Americans still seem to be enamored of British royals. Truth be told today’s royal family- the Windsors– (or should I say Saxe-Coburg and Gotha) are probably more German by ancestry than anything. The name change to Windsor was in response to anti-German sentiment surrounding WWI.

Germans with English names. Sort of like Steve-o, who has an English name, but has more German ancestry than the rest of the family.

Today’s royalty are more or less figureheads with no political authority, but back in the days of the American Revolution, kings (and sometimes queens) held the power of life and death for their subjects. Yeah, that kind of power would be kind of cool, but it could also lead to all kinds of witch hunting and cronyism and the mysterious disappearance of political opposition. Oh, the Obama administration rings a bell, at least as far as the scandal and sleaze factors go. What’s worse about Obama is whatever privileges he thinks he deserves were usurped via dishonest means (i.e. only natural born American citizens are eligible to hold the office of the Presidency) as well as egregious voter fraud. I haven’t forgotten about that- and I’m not going to either. History will prove me right in the end.

The fascination some people have with today’s royals to me is a sort of a modern-day hold out of the fairy tale myth of the all-powerful ruler. The closest thing America has to royalty (don’t even think the Obamas, even though they think and behave as if they have royal entitlements) is the Hollywood crowd.

I think the British royals to be far less sordid than Hollywood, and far more admirable than the Obamas. The royals (unlike most of Hollywood) even have some redeeming features, such as sponsoring legitimate charities, and serving in the military.

I don’t see the Duchess of Cambridge out there screaming about “reproductive rights” (aka: abortion advocacy) while at the same time crying crocodile tears and telling everyone that eating meat is murder. I don’t hear of the Queen telling her subjects that she could have been Trayvon Martin 30 years ago either. I can see where she might show some affinity for Elton John, as he and the Queen share similar taste in hats, but I can’t see her claiming Trayvon.

Now this guy is back in the news. Wiener. Wiener. Wiener.

I don’t think I would vote for this guy- except to piss off Hillary Clinton. She probably has a bigger unit than him, so she shouldn’t be too upset. If I really want to sausage-gaze I think there are better endowed specimens than Wiener (in spite of the name) to be found online. Then again it’s one thing if women are requesting sausage shots from our friend Mr. Wiener, and quite another if the sausage shots are being sent unsolicited. To me it wouldn’t be nearly as perverted if the women are asking for the pics. Then at least they’re getting what they deserved.

Now, for a guy to just randomly send a portfolio of Mr. Happy to every female for whom he has contact information, either he’s a 13 year old pulling a rather sick prank, or that’s a cry for attention.

Am I the only one creeped out by dancing food? Especially dancing wieners. Wiener. Wiener. Wiener.

Wiener. Wiener. Wiener. Wiener. It’s just fun to say wiener.

I’m not a snake. I don’t prefer to consume my prey whilst it’s still alive. I don’t want my food to dance. Especially wieners. I want my food to remain perfectly still until I decide to move it from the plate to my mouth, unless of course I’m eating Jello.

You’re Up Next, After the Dead Dude: a Medical History Out of Monty Python

May 13, 2013Tonya Lanthron Leave a comment

In the course of my life I have sort of drawn the short straw as far as physical robustness goes. I’ve had bronchitis and pneumonia so many times I’ve lost count. I’ve had sinus infections from hell- even after sinus surgery. I got rheumatic fever from an untreated case of strep throat when I was ten years old which has led to countless joint sprains and strains. Any time an orthopedist looks at any x-ray of mine, they anticipate the repeat business. They see dollar signs and drool. I’ve had ongoing female issues ever since the illustrious birth of the POMC – severe pelvic pain and other unmentionable nasties- that culminated in a hysterectomy almost four years ago (which hindsight being 20/20 I wish had been done right along with the Childbirth From Hell and saved me the years of hassle.)

To add to the fun, I’m also diabetic. Yay.

One of the several surgeries I’ve had was memorable for the humor involved. About 13 years ago I had a funky, mole-like growth on the side of my head about the size of a dime. I really didn’t care about it much because my hair covered it up nicely, but I made the mistake of mentioning it at a Dr.’s appointment when he asked me if I had any funky skin issues.

Of course, that meant a trip to a dermatologist and then a plastic surgeon, because said funky growth was right on top of an important facial nerve. If it caused a problem (i.e. if it was melanoma or some other horrible cancer thing like that) or even if it was removed incorrectly, I’d end up drooling out the side of my mouth, and my speech would be incoherent. Forever. Oh, what fun to be a drooling imbecile, should this guy cut through the wrong thing- but should it be melanoma- well, let’s take the risk and get rid of that.

The good news is that the plastic surgeon was comfortable doing this surgery with a local anesthetic (oh, dammit, Lidocaine burns…) so they set me up at one of those outpatient surgical centers where people go to have stuff done that would have been done in the primary care Dr.’s office back in the day, but that they’re too afraid of lawsuits to do in the office now.

I got to the center about 15 minutes early. I was supposed to have this done at 7:30 AM, be done before 9, and back to work in the afternoon.

One really sucky thing about even an outpatient, local-anesthetic surgery is they won’t let you eat a damned thing for hours and hours ahead of time, because they’re afraid you’ll ralph on them. By 1:30 (PM) I was getting pretty pissy from not eating, and highly annoyed from enduring the barrage of torrid daytime TV garbage cranked up in the surgical waiting room. I had already finished both my word-find and my crossword books, and was actually thinking about reading the three year old copies of such lovely periodicals as Urology Digest, Hemorrhoid Monthly and Sports Illustrated. I was so perturbed that I almost didn’t notice all the activity going in and out of one of the operating rooms.

There is boredom, and there is waiting room boredom. It’s excruciating.

Apparently the guy who was on my surgeon’s schedule ahead of me dropped dead on the operating table while having some sort of minor surgery, like an ingrown toenail removal or something. Only he took his time dropping dead, because they had the freaking trauma team running in and out of there for about three hours.

At 2PM the surgeon finally comes out to get me, and frankly, I’m somewhat rattled by that time. I hadn’t eaten all day (or the night before) and I was not in a very nice mood. He asks me if I want to go ahead and get it done. I told him hell yes, because I had only taken one day off work, and knowing the ass-clown paper pushers at that hospital I’d be 90 years old before they would see fit to schedule me in again.

So I get wheeled in and the surgeon starts in with the Lidocaine- with what I thought was a bit of unnecessary roughness, but I figured I better not comment because I know what happened to the last guy. As my head is burning from all the Lidocaine shots, he comments,

“Just don’t die on me like the last guy. It sort of makes me look bad when my patients drop dead.”

Five minutes later the funky growth was on its way to pathology, and I had about 8 stitches in the side of my head. In spite of his roughness with injecting all that Lidocaine, the actual repair was done very neatly, and I’m happy to report he left me vocally articulate and drool-free.

Thankfully whatever the funky growth was, it never came back, and it wasn’t melanoma or anything else that would have killed me. It probably could have stayed there forever and not been any kind of big deal- but- Murphy’s Law being what it is, if I’d left it there it would have turned into something nasty.

What scares me is that the way that the healthcare industry is going (and especially with the government gravy train and the abominable, evil Obama being involved in it) is that people like me with chronic conditions are going to be hurried along to die. Part of me sort of goes along with that- and there is a time when medical intervention is pretty much pointless, but part of me wonders why it’s so hard to get just basic, necessary care. Every time you go to a doctor they want to send you for this or that test or this or that specialist or this or that study, when they know that a.) nothing you have can really be cured, just managed somewhat, and b.) you don’t need to see 14 different specialists for every stupid basic problem that a primary care Dr. should be able to (and allowed to) treat. The entire medical industry is geared toward how much money they can shovel in. The doctors are more afraid of lawsuits than anything, and they can’t really afford to care much about actually getting people better. They care more about not getting sued, and I can’t blame them.

How about tort reform? Get rid of the bullshit lawsuits, and let doctors do what they’ve been trained to do. Unfortunately that would make too much sense and save too much money, so nobody’s going to do anything to derail the gravy train.

If I could I’d go to the dogs’ vet. She went to school longer and has a lot more actual sense than a lot of medical doctors, and she charges a whole hell of a lot less.

A Requiem for Common Sense (Part 2)

May 10, 2013Tonya Lanthron Leave a comment

Ah, the paradox.

This car I spotted in the Target parking lot cracked me up. The likelihood of this decrepit old Accord attaining highway speeds is actually fairly good if it’s getting a reasonable amount of regular maintenance. I just hope the timing belt’s been replaced some time in the past ten years, otherwise the unfortunate owner of this rather obsolete piece of automotive technology will get a thorough schooling on the definition of interference engine. Usually when the belt breaks, it occurs at highway speeds, out of the blue, in the middle of nowhere. The non-motorhead translation is, that if that timing belt breaks on an interference engine, your engine is toast. Instantly and irrevocably, as in bent valves, or even valves through the pistons. The repair cost (i.e. engine replacement…) is usually more than the value of the car.

This is one reason why I chose a vehicle with an engine that features a timing chain, but in their defense, the old Accords- properly maintained- are often 300,000 mile or more cars. Toyota still uses belts on some models, but most of their engines are clearance engines, (if the belt breaks there’s enough clearance that the valves don’t hit the pistons) so the worst that happens to you is that the car immediately stops running. You’ll have to have the car towed and replace the belt, which will cost more than if you had replaced it before it broke, because the tech will have to line up the cam and crank before installing the belt.

Ok, enough motorhead jargon. Automotive is almost worse than the medical profession as far as specialized language. It’s sad,but every time I see one of those old Hondas I remember the people who didn’t pay attention to replacing that belt from time to time. Just like every time I see an old Camry I think about (well, a number of things) but primarily about a certain primadouche technician who couldn’t stand the sight of blood and guts. I couldn’t help it that mice liked to make nests in the blower fans.

This morning I was rather disappointed when I went to go to the Y and the pool was closed due to thunderstorms. I know they have rules regarding closing the pool (even though it’s an indoor pool) during thunderstorms and for a little while afterwards, which may be based on dubious science, but it still sort of sucked. I didn’t waste workout time though. I got on the one of the elliptical machines and still got in my 40 minutes of exercise. I do have to wonder, though, if lightning could strike the pool, isn’t there’s an equal chance that lightning could strike the workout room where the ellipticals and other machines are? As long as the building meets modern electrical codes, which it should since it was built in 2005, you’re safer in the pool than you would be in the showers, in the locker room,- or dashing out to your car in the parking lot. Hell, I’d probably been safer in the pool than on the elliptical machine, but either way the odds of getting struck by lightning while working out indoors are probably about as good as me winning the lottery or suddenly being 6′ and 120#. Ain’t-a-gonna-happen.

However, sometimes rules are made either without considering the science that nullifies the need for them, or old rules hang about that were made using outdated standards. Whether a rule is logical or not isn’t my judgment call. When I was in high school the whole concept of having to abide by illogical and archaic rules drove me bat shit, and still does to a certain degree today, but doesn’t change the fact that I still have to abide by them.

Last night when Jerry and I were out at Little Sicily’s- a tiny but fantastic pizza joint on the far east side of Columbus- there were a group of geezers sitting across from us. I like old people. Their perspective is closer to mine than people my own age or younger seem to have.

So as I was eavesdropping on their conversation, one of the ladies mentioned that life has gotten way too complicated today. In a lot of ways yes, and even in some ways for the better, but I understood her frustration at how unsafe the world has gotten. It seems that the powers that be try to take all the danger out of things we consider fun- it’s a major ordeal to get a kid in and out of a car seat for instance, and anyone who would have worn a bike helmet back in the 70s would have been assumed to be someone who had a weak skull or prior brain damage. But in spite of adding more precautions and layers of safety, the world gets more and more dangerous- or at least that’s what we hear about.

A good example is what people do with their kids. Back in the day no one had a problem with letting the kids roam the neighborhood, because everyone knew everyone else, and any adult could correct a child and bring that malfeasant offspring to its parents’ attention. It was a double shame to be caught in misadventure by someone other than one’s parent, because not only would the first adult likely tan your hide, so would Dad, for committing two offenses- the original offense, and the added offense of misbehavior within public scrutiny.

This was Dad’s definition of the “Board of Education.”

Today I would be positively mortified of correcting another’s spawn, even though the little barbarians may richly deserve it, for fear of being sued. Parents are afraid of correcting their own children for fear either of the child him or herself reporting them for child abuse (another reason to keep your kids out of public school- as the kids are drilled from day one to report, report, report) or because some well-meaning but thick-headed bystander will mistake well-deserved discipline for a “beating” and call Children’s Services on them.

Personally I think that it’s abuse to keep a child locked up inside, to let them become obese, and to fail to discipline them when they deserve it. The wussification and the overprotection of children is partially in response to the horrible headlines we see where children actually are abused, but most of it stems from a parental desire to “make things better for my kid.” This desire to “make things better for my kid”- combined with the abysmal performance of most public schools- has resulted in an entire generation of overindulged, undereducated, young adults who expect everything to be handed to them and for their actions to lack consequences.

Inevitable Entropy: i.e. The Shithouse Rats Have Assumed Control

May 7, 2013Tonya Lanthron 3 Comments

Anywhere but here!

I’m not the sort of person who tries to shove my faith down people’s throats, at least not in an overt manner. My faith does inform my worldview, and it does influence what kind of an example I strive to be, (remembering that some of us are examples of what NOT to do) but I’m not going to be the one handing out Chick Tracts or scaring the holy bejezus out of people with threats of damnation and hellfire. I believe there’s a real hell, but I can’t keep anyone out of it who really wants to go. I can’t bring anyone to heaven either. Jesus said He is the Way, the Truth and the Life. If you want to inquire about heaven, then Jesus is the one you want to get to know, not a crusty old purveyor of automotive parts.

Anyway, I’ve made an observation that is not surprising. I’ve known for years that the gene pool could use some more chlorine, but I think that the shithouse rat crazies have assumed control. Mind you, I am no paragon of mental health, but today’s headlines (even as much as I try to avoid mainstream news) are positively insane.

Chris Christie had LapBand. Is this a surprise?

In my world “news” should be unusual or enlightening information. I’m glad that Governor Christie could afford to have LapBand, despite the fact I’m one of the poor suckers who has to decide which scripts I can afford when. I am sort of reminded of the morbidly obese who ride around in the WalMart motorized scooters. If they would get off their rumps and walk through WalMart, perhaps the scooter would not be necessary. If not for the expensive (and calorie laden, no doubt) diet, perhaps he would not have needed the expensive surgery. But I will be merciful, because I know poor metabolism is a bitch.

As far as being one challenged by weight management, I will say one thing about the correlation between being poor and fat (as opposed to being rich and fat.) When you can’t afford healthy food, you will buy what will fill your belly, even if it is discount mac-n-cheese, or all kinds of corn-laden, sugar-filled, salty snacky food. Fresh produce (especially in places like Ohio) is of poor quality and exorbitant high price in winter. Granted, if you are observant you can get frozen fruits and vegetables- which are almost as good health-wise as fresh, at a reasonable price without preservatives, salt or grease, but you have to look.

This isn’t news. If he loses weight and gets buff, and stays away from Obama, AKA: Beezelbub, that would be news. Maybe. I lost a lot of respect for Governor Christie when he sucked up to Obama after the hurricane. One does not kiss up to evil just because it is expedient, but hell, if I could afford a medical procedure (if if existed) that would make me 6′ tall and 120# I’d be the first one to break out the MasterCard.

Kim and Kanye– How Dare She Wear My Curtains!

I understand that most conceptions are accidental. The illustrious Steve-o wasn’t planned, and neither was his daughter. However, I think she could have done a better job at picking a baby daddy as well as picking a dress that doesn’t make her look like someone wrapped the Titanic in my dining room curtains. Then again, should the DNA verify the unfortunate child’s paternity, Kim will never have to eat cheap boxed mac-n-cheese or have Cream-of Wheat for every meal the first week of the month ever again, as if she ever did anyway.

Now You Can Leave Cleveland!

I would be bat shit crazy too if I had to spend ten years locked away in Cleveland. Ten minutes in Cleveland is too much for me. Just think: one of these women’s captors was a school bus driver for the Cleveland public schools. Think of all the little girls who rode on his bus. Creepy. Granted, Cleveland is the hotbed of far-left nut jobs (think New York, west annex) in Ohio, but I have to wonder how nobody noticed three women (and the six-year old girl) hidden in a house for ten years. In all seriousness, I really feel for these poor women, especially the little girl, who probably has never seen the light of day.

The shrinks are going to be plenty busy with these people, which is really sad.

This guy hasn’t been impeached and removed yet.

The devolution of humanity is on the the fast track and is incrementally gaining speed.

Common Sense: A Requiem (Part 1)

April 17, 2013Tonya Lanthron 2 Comments

We could use more people like her.

Anyone who knows me or remotely follows anything I write should be very clear on a few things by now. I can be an exquisitely cynical person, to put it lightly. My political views can best be summarized as “slightly to the right of Reagan.” This disclaimer being duly provided, here’s why I believe common sense is not just a rarity in this country, it’s dead and buried.

When I turn on the TV I pretty much avoid the news, even FOX. I’ve found that I can skip the incessant Obama-worship and the vapid ravings on which celebrity has fallen off the wagon or who’s screwing who, or who’s gone back to rehab this week, by watching BBC America on the rare occasion I decide to depress myself by watching TV news. It’s a shame as an American if I want reasonably unbiased, actual news on TV, I have to turn to the Brits.

Ok, so when I’m watching BBC America, I’m usually watching Top Gear.

The reason for my utter disgust with the media is that I could care less about fashion, cooking, this-or-that so-called economist going on about his/her speculation on how the economy is either a.) in the toilet, or b.) the best it’s been in the past thirty years (usually both perspectives are provided within the span of a week) or what nonsense (golf, vacations, private rap concerts, donations to Hamas, etc.) Obama’s squandering the American taxpayers’ money on today.

There are a few tidbits of recent news that especially dismay me, even though I could have predicted the reactions to the events.

chairman-mao-without-chicken

Obama, your ideology is nothing new.

I know Obama is as ideologically opposite to Margaret Thatcher as, let’s say, Chairman Mao would be to Newt Gingrich. However, Great Britain is probably our greatest ally, and Obama has been downright rude to them at every opportunity. I’m not surprised B.O.’s skipping Madame Thatcher’s funeral, and I’m glad he didn’t go. What appalls me is that we have someone occupying the White House who is loathsome enough to insult the memory of one of the greatest British Prime Ministers, and that he seems to want to insult the Brits.

I know Obama is squatting in the White House illegally (gotta love Eric Holder and his defense of voter fraud,) but that begs even more questions such as: Why won’t the state auditors and secretaries-of-state ADMIT to, INVESTIGATE and PROSECUTE the fraud? As in where are you, Dave Yost and Mike DeWine?- because Ohio was probably the most fraud-ridden state in the entire election of 2012. We have an illegitimate squatter sitting in the White House, and apparently nobody who matters gives a damn.

The illustrious “Reverend” Wright gives a damn, but I don’t think that wishing God to “damn America” is an appropriate sentiment.

I am also incredulous that anyone with any brain cells would doubt that the Boston Marathon bombing was anything BUT an act of terrorism. Unfortunately, to imply that, or to even speculate on the possibility, might possibly implicate Obama’s friends, aka: Hamas, or the “peace-loving” Muslim Brotherhood. You know, the same people who burn American flags and have their nice little protests where they wish “death to America.” We wouldn’t want to be politically incorrect and possibly start profiling people. Unless they’re white rednecks who belong to the NRA, that is. Hopefully someone will explain to Joe Biden that even should you manage to override the Second Amendment and take everyone’s guns away, people who want to kill other people will always find a way. Such as homemade bombs.

Political correctness is nothing new. George Orwell predicted the failings of forced collectivism years ago. Some pigs are more equal than others, indeed.

The Error of the Nanny State, Actions Have Consequences, and Eat Whatever You Want!

March 21, 2013Tonya Lanthron Leave a comment

I love British humor.

I’m glad to see that not everyone has bothered to subscribe to the politically correct movement. I am so tired of the mentality some people have that specifies if that one person has a problem or a special need – or even a booger up his/her ass about something inane, trivial and stupid, that everyone else has to pander to it. For example (and I hear this one a lot) so and so’s kid requires a special diet. That sucks, but should all the other kids be subjected to a diabetic/corn-free/gluten-free/peanut-free and guaranteed to be taste-free diet because one kid has a restriction that can easily be accommodated by that kid’s parents sending him/her with his/her own nutritionally correct meals?

I don’t expect anyone to pander to my dietary requirements. While there is nothing about a diabetic eating strategy that would be harmful to a normal person, that’s not the point. If you want to eat bacon, or cotton candy, a three patty greasy burger, or a 120 sugar-gram latte, that is 100% your business. It’s going to stick to your thighs. I’m not playing food police for anyone. It’s none of my business. I’m the odd one out, therefore it is on me to adjust. When in doubt, I bring my own chow, or better yet, eat meals at home that I prepared for myself so I know exactly what’s in them. Problem solved.

My healthy dinner tastes better than your crappy fast food, but you are perfectly free NOT to eat my healthy dinner.

Go ahead and have your burger. What I eat is my business, what you eat is yours. How simple is that?

Unfortunately there are too many self-righteous weenies out there who believe that if one person gets their undies in a bunch over something, the other 99% who have no problem with their issue have to suffer. A good example of that is the whole hoo-hah over sexual harassment. I grew up in the automotive business. I supervised technicians. I’ve been called everything but a fine upstanding white woman. So what? I’ve told more than one techie to kiss my ass or given one the finger and instructed him to “sit and spin.” Crass jokes are normal in the culture that surrounds automotive. It reduces the stress and shows everyone that you’re human too. I like an off-color joke as well as anyone else (probably more.) Just don’t touch me, and you will live.

Maybe those who think it’s “inappropriate” to joke and have fun are the kinds of people who should automatically receive the male enhancement e-mails. We can start with this guy:

But, Mr. Bloomberg, what about clearing out the gene pool? What about actions having consequences? Can we protect everyone from their own poor decisions?

I’ve noted the wussification of our culture (especially men) and I really can’t stand it. Now there’s a middle school with an “all inclusive” honors banquet. So you get a reward for getting straight D’s and eating dead bugs off the windowsills now? What about the kids who actually take some pride in themselves and actually do what it takes to maintain a 3.5 average or higher?

I’m not saying this because I was an honor student. I was. I freely admit I didn’t have to do much else beyond showing up and actually turning in homework in every class I took with the exceptions of freaking algebra and geometry. (I actually did have to study that shit.)

I’m saying this because in today’s dumbed down schools, if you’re not getting at least a 3.5 (non-weighted) average, you have the intellectual ability of paste, and you don’t deserve an award.

Giving everyone a “special” reward for simply sucking up valuable oxygen is a disincentive for those who actually do study hard and take pride in their academic achievements. And quite frankly, it’s high time parents, schools and society stop worrying about what failure might do to little Johnny or Julie’s fragile little self-esteem. Kids need to learn what to do when they fail: work harder. I know it sounds like a foreign concept, but it’s an idea whose time has come.

And we wonder why unemployment is so high among the young?

My Little Top Gear Obsession, Other Things Brit, and Jezebel

March 7, 2013Tonya Lanthron Leave a comment

I’m an American. Unlike the current squatter in our White House, not only do I understand the purpose of the Second Amendment, I can prove that I was born in this country, and I can even prove my parents and grandparents were too.

Even though I’m American, I enjoy British humor. I also enjoy European cars, even though I can’t afford them, and even though I drive a Toyota for the low cost and reliability.

So when Steve-o turned me on to Top Gear on BBC America, I was fascinated. The premise of the show is simple: three middle-aged, irreverent Brits (Jeremy Clarkson, Richard Hammond and James May) driving and critiquing cars that I never knew existed. They combined British humor with European cars, and now I’m finding myself DVRing it for later when I can’t stay up all night to watch it. For those who have never viewed the Brit Top Gear, the best way to describe it is, Benny Hill meets the automotive fancy!

I have to love a guy who thinks Piers Morgan is a knob, AND digs the old VW GTIs as much as I do.

I do find it hard to believe that a guy who is 6’5″ can fit in an old GTI, much less drive one, but wonders never cease.

They have good taste in cars, even for guys who drive cars with the steering wheels on the wrong side. I would think it rather awkward to shift with my left hand, but I guess it would be normal if you’re used to it.

The BBC doesn’t let the Top Gear guys have sponsors, so they make up their own.

They aren’t politically correct, either.

I don’t think James May is gay. I think they are acting like adolescent boys who call each other “gay” in an attempt to slam the other guy’s masculinity. They may be middle-aged men, but like all men, they are pubescent boys at heart. I think the pranking is funny, but I’ve always gravitated toward puerile and sophomoric humor. I still find Benny Hill hilarious.

I don’t know why, but Benny Hill was even funnier in drag.

Now that Top Gear is on BBC almost every day, I have something fun to watch when World’s Dumbest isn’t on.

Jezebel (at 6 1/2 months) is still smaller than Isabel.

Jezebel came home last night, clawless and a bit disoriented, but OK. She’s more energetic and looked a lot better than I had anticipated, but I still have to keep her isolated and away from the dogs and the basement (where the regular cat boxes, plus various other basement funk is.) Apparently she is simply meant to be a very petite cat (she is about 3#, but she is well proportioned) which should not affect her overall health. I do wonder if she was born a runt- the other three kittens we trapped at the same time (may or may not have been siblings) also still had blue eyes and appeared to be about the same age, (under seven weeks) but they were markedly larger. Most of the ferals in our area are small cats, (even the toms) so I really didn’t expect Jezebel to be of Fanny-sized (aka:epic) proportions. Isabel has always been right around 5# all of her adult life and her small size doesn’t seem to faze her in the least.

RIP, Benny Hill.

I think that we could make an interesting Anglo-American exchange (even though both guys involved are Brits.) We’ll send Piers Morgan back to England, because there’s more of an audience for his politically correct whining in the UK, but only if we can have Jeremy Clarkson. Jeremy makes sense.

If all foreigners were like Jeremy, I would be a huge advocate for immigration!

I mean, really. He speaks English*, is gainfully employed, and has intelligent opinions- unlike the terrorists and non-English speaking third world refugee Obama-lovers who are bombarding our borders. Just a thought.

(*some people consider British English and American English to be two separate languages- which may be true if you consider some Southern dialects to be representative of American English- however, most of us can understand most of what they say and vice versa, so close enough!)

Better Living Through Technology and Chemistry, and Disturbing Thoughts

March 5, 2013Tonya Lanthron 3 Comments

No one is more anti-smoking than an ex-smoker.

Even though back in the day I smoked the cowboy killers, (yes, I chain smoked the cowboy killers) today I find few of other people’s habits more annoying. The exception to that would be Jerry’s uncanny ability to spot either puke or shit combined with his complete unwillingness to actually clean up said puke, shit or other noxious mess.

On one hand, since cigarettes are legal and the government makes money on them, people should be allowed to smoke up- anywhere and everywhere- should they so desire. On the other, I am not a fan of having my airspace polluted by some jackwagon’s cig smoke.

I know it’s too complicated for Jerry. But there may be hope for others.

The above illustration doesn’t mention the damned cellophanes, but then again most smokers don’t just toss the foil and cellophane on the floor to clog up the vacuum cleaner, either. No matter how you scour the floor for cellophanes, there’s at least one that avoids detection and ends up clogging the vacuum cleaner, which begs one question and one statement.

1. What’s the bloody point of having a vacuum cleaner if you have to pick up half the shit on the floor before you vacuum so it doesn’t clog the machine?

2. Jerry was raised by wolves, which is why there is unauthorized detritus on the floor that shouldn’t be there to begin with. I should be grateful he knows how to wipe his ass.

I think some of the really weird Victorian artwork actually is drug-inspired. I mean, this dude was even impaired in his fashion choices. Elton John wouldn’t even wear this ensemble. When alcohol, opium and God only knows what else were readily available in just about every patent medicine in existence, I’m sure there were plenty of guys who wore bad clothes and thought they were riding around on (stoned) giant white pigeons.

I’m thinking duct tape would have kept this poor dead kid’s head up for the pic.

I’m assuming the little girl in the very front of this pic is dead by the vacuous stare and the way her head is flopped over. However, her mother is hanging on to her hair in a manner that would make an old-time Catholic mother proud. The expression on the mother’s face seems to be one of those “You will sit still dammit,” expressions rather than a mournful pose. Perhaps the two boys in the background were getting on her nerves, or maybe she was peeved because the dead one kept on flopping over. Maybe she grabbed the dead kid by the hair just to keep her steady in one place.

I have to wonder how many child deaths buried in the overwhelmingly high infant mortality rate of the Victorian era were actually inflicted by the mothers?

It would be easy enough to cover up one’s crime. Lots of kids died, and died suddenly from everything from typhoid to a good old fashioned case of the runs. An autopsy of that time – should anyone insist one be conducted- probably wouldn’t reveal poisoning or suffocation.

Just put it in their drink.

emetic:

adjective

1.causing vomiting, as a medicinal substance.

noun

2.an emetic medicine or agent.

I can think of a lot of things that have emetic qualities:

Obama. Just thinking about him and his illegal squatting in the White House makes me want to puke.

Exposed hairy butt cracks. Wrong on many levels, and tacky on either male or female.

I don’t throw up easily, which in this world is probably a good thing.

Yer Gonna Die!!, Cold, Dead Fingers, and the COMA Speech

February 13, 2013Tonya Lanthron 1 Comment

Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, if you’ve been born, then die you must! And if you are a conservative, Obama will be happy to help hurry it along!

I know many American Christians don’t get the whole Ash Wednesday or Lent thing, unless of course they’re Catholic or come from a liturgical tradition (Episcopals, Presbyterians, Lutherans, some Methodists, and the Orthodox observe Lent to some degree.)

A simple explanation of Ash Wednesday is it’s a day to remember our mortality. Yer Gonna Die!!!- get used to it- is the message. Sooner or later everyone’s going to end up worm food. It’s just as guaranteed as Obama making an idiot of himself in the State of the Union address by addressing gun control (something about 70% of Americans fervently oppose) and not saying anything of relevance or substance on the economy or anything else that people who pay taxes actually care about. Unless of course, it’s about how he wants to raise taxes to pay for more drivel that the taxpayers are already sick as hell of being forced to pay for to begin with.

Wormy wormy wormy worms, dancing in and out of my eye sockets, feasting on my liver, yum!

I don’t remember where I saw it or I’d give due credit, but I heard someone refer to Obama’s sickening speech last night as the COMA speech- the Condition of My Agenda. Unfortunately his agenda- Marxism- is alive and well, no thanks to those in Congress who have no spine and who will not stand up to illegitimate tyrants. If Congress had a pair, Obama would have been impeached and removed in 2009 for not proving his citizenship, which he still has not done in a satisfactory manner. His wanna-be highness has absolutely no clue as to the “state of the union” – hint #1- it sucks, and hint #2- he has positively no idea what’s going on in the real world. The main problem is Obama doesn’t care about anything unless it interferes with his vacations and his hob-nobbing with the smarmy likes of Jay-Z and Beyoncé. Far be it from His (un-)Holiness (I guess since the Pope’s retiring, Obama will just start using that title too) to actually give a fart in a high wind about all those “rednecks who cling to their religion and guns.” He’s more worried about whether or not non-citizens have the “right” to go to the early voting center to vote multiple times- as long as they are voting early and often for Democrats, of course.

If the election of 2012 was fair and legitimate, I’ll be the first native born American to become the Queen of England.

I’m surprised Ted Nugent wasn’t more incensed by what he heard, as he was in attendance while the Thief in Chief spouted his lies, but I have a feeling Ted is treading lightly. I don’t think Ted could have been shocked at the lack of substance in that speech as it was typical Obama hearts and flowers and faux do gooder tripe with lots of taxpayer-funded “giveaways” and warm fuzzies for Democrats and their lackeys. That’s the only spiel Obama can do. However, I agree with Uncle Ted on one thing- the infringement upon Second Amendment rights is not something that the majority of Americans is just going to look the other way at. There are people in this country from whom their guns will have to be pried from their cold, dead fingers, and there are more of those kinds of people than B.O. and his minions can dream to imagine.

If it sounds like I’m angry, I am angry. I know there isn’t much I can do to change the situation, but silence implies consent. I do NOT approve and I did NOT concede. Millions of Americans do NOT approve of this illegitimate squatter in our White House, or of what he’s doing to this country.

Yesterday I was reminded of one of the two absolutes in this world: Taxes, and the Marxists who want to steal from me to give to the chronic welfare class as well as to union lackeys and Obama’s corporate pets.

Let’s see: identity fraud, voter fraud, the Benghazi scandal, bypassing Congress with frivolous executive orders-

Congress, What the HELL is this guy still doing squatting in OUR White House?

Today I am reminded of the other absolute in this world: Death, and it almost makes me thankful that in the grand scheme of things, my time is short.

Because we all know how splendidly Marxism worked in the USSR!

If You Only Knew What’s in Food, You’d Never Eat Again

February 9, 2013Tonya Lanthron 3 Comments

Today I am glad I don’t live in the UK. Or at least that I didn’t eat frozen lasagna in the UK.

Cheddar cheese on lasagna? That’s almost as bad as eating Mr. Ed!

Maybe I shouldn’t be so critical. I love the Brits in most things, but English food is scary as hell to begin with, at least to American sensibilities. It’s not necessarily dangerous to eat horse meat, but it is culturally taboo, even in the UK where people eat really nasty sounding things like blood pudding and kidney pie and haggis. I think as far as frozen lasagna goes I’ll stick with the Stouffer’s red-box stuff. It may be mystery meat, but it’s still some tasty stuff.

They don’t claim that the meat is beef. It’s just “meat” which could be anything.

I think if we really knew what was in food we would never eat again.

Gravy happens. And this stuff looks like puke. I want to know who tasted it to verify that it “tastes like beef stew.” Used beef stew?

When my Dad was growing up on the west side of Marion, there was a dog food manufacturing plant about 2 miles from where he and my grandparents lived. In the 1950’s horse meat was a major ingredient in dog food, as well as carcasses of various livestock. Back then, pretty much any meat source that could be rendered down was used in dog food. The dog food plant closed down in the early 1980’s, (long after it had been made illegal to use horse meat in dog food) but I can still remember the stench of that joint if the wind was blowing the wrong way. It was not a pleasant smell.

One night the horses they were keeping to slaughter the next day got out and followed the railroad tracks to my grandparents’ house. Dad woke up and was screaming about horses running through the back yard. Grandpa thought Dad was nuts until he saw the horses for himself.

Sometimes I almost get the vegans’ argument against eating anything with a face. I couldn’t imagine eating an animal like a horse or a dog if I put a face on it, but then I remember that cats are obligatory carnivores, and I remember that most humans who espouse vegan eating really aren’t as healthy as they want to suggest, mentally or physically. I just don’t think that smelling like an abattoir, (in spite of not eating meat?) having grey, scaly skin, braid-able hair on the armpits and legs, and straw-like scarecrow hair sticking up from one’s head are indicators of health. Nor do I think wiping with reusable cloths or burying my car is a good idea to “save the planet” either. I like an occasional Porterhouse steak. I like my leather shoes, I like to remove superfluous body hair, and I’d rather be dead than have dreadlocks.

Never trust the unbathed.

I understand meat-eating is a cultural thing. Personally I find the thought of eating dogs highly offensive, but they do it in Asia. I have no problem with eating rabbits, squirrels or deer, while some people I know think that’s the grossest thing ever. I don’t care for lamb or mutton, but the dogs love it. Supposedly that’s what their food is based on, but I really don’t want to know what’s in dog food. It’s bad enough to consider what’s in food meant for humans.

I found a taste tester.

I could save a lot of money this way. Just shut up and eat it. You just don’t want to know.

ELYSIANHUNTER, ALWAYS INCITEFUL:

Because comedy is the flipside of tragedy

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