Whatever I Fear, the List is Long

Hell_LavaPit1

I do believe in a literal hell, even though this rendering sort of reminds me of a mosh pit backlit with a red light.  Jesus talked about hell frequently in the Bible, and I don’t think He was being allegorical.  This being said, thankfully, I have neither the authority nor the desire to consign anyone to that realm.  There are enough horrors right here on this earth to convince me that I don’t want to see such things escalate or continue.

I’m sure that the way I’m wired has something to do with the fact that I tend toward fear most of the time.  Now that I’m older and have the life experience and scripts to be bit more rational about my fears, I don’t always appear to be a deer in the headlights, but those fears are far closer to the surface than I would like to acknowledge.

bad_dreams_for_kim_kardashian-115965

I’m not necessarily talking about dreams one has while sleeping.  I almost never have the vivid and terrifying dreams I had as a child, but neither do I have the wonderful, majestic visions in “good” dreams I once enjoyed either.  If I remember my dreams at all, they are usually rather banal and bland.   Whether the neutralization of my dreams is a side effect of the medications I take, or this numbing occurs because I seldom sleep soundly, or this graying effect can be attributed to the cumulative grimy jadedness of age, I don’t know.  I am thankful for the dearth of terrifying nightmares, but I could use a really good fantasy or two to savor these days.

full mourningWhy does Victorian mourning garb remind me of burqas?

I am terrified of the prospect that some day my granddaughter could be forced to wear a burqa and be subjugated to the barbaric laws of Islam. Maybe I am over reacting to what I see and read, but history has much to teach us about Islam and what happens when radical Islamists find their ways into civilization.

burqa-banNot here.  Not unless it is a personal choice and 100% voluntary. And who would voluntarily choose this?

I remember as a child being afraid (and this was during the Cold War) that the Soviet Union would randomly nuclear bomb the entire world into kingdom come. Of course my childhood was filled with fear around-the-clock,  fear of pretty much everything apart from dogs and books.

offended yoda

Historically speaking it takes pretty dire situations to wake up the American people.  We like to stay quiet and peaceful and complacently bucolic.  For the most part that is not a bad thing, except when change is necessary or a great adversity needs to be overcome.

We have dealt with an ever increasing degree of corruption, graft and cronyism in our government at all levels.  Obama is arguably the very worst and most corrupt president this country has ever seen, so much so that his very ineptitude and disdain for this country and disregard for the people is waking people up. We are pissed. We are afraid for our future, and we are realizing the need to do something about it.

wake up

Good Morning, Mr. Plunger!- Ass Pilots, Weenie Commentators and Wrongful Sympathizers

plungerWhy am I the only one in my house who knows how to use this?

Ah, the lowly plunger.  It may not be my favorite household appliance (or would it be more rightly regarded as a tool, like a can opener, or a kitchen scrubbie?) but when you need, it you need it.  Especially in my house.

I should have known that the plunger would be necessary this morning, as Jerry had a lovely Natty-filled evening last night.  12 Natties or more usually = Natty splatters, but when you have the 12 Natties after half a bucket of chicken and a large pepperoni pizza, well, let’s just say the splatters increase both in bulk and volume.

Jerry is one of those rare individuals who can eat like a Sumo wrestler, drink like a whale, and remain svelte.  How anyone can be 5’10” and 180# in spite of taking in 5,000 or more calories a day, I will never understand. Bastard.

Anyway, just as I am about to beat feet out the door this morning, and I try to do that before Jerry gets out of bed and takes his place on the throne, for obvious reasons.  But I hesitated just long enough to hear the plaintive, whiny, cry of, “It won’t go down!”

overflowThis is the vision that went through my head.  I have encountered- and had to clean up- similar blowouts.

Thankfully the mess was confined to the inside of the toilet bowl.  He didn’t try to flush multiple times, which would have resulted in slightly used Natties, pizza and fried chicken all over the bathroom, which would have been a most unpleasant scenario at 7:30 in the morning, but it was bad enough.  A few strategically placed plunges, and all was well.  I am glad sometimes that I have almost no sense of smell.   I was out the door and in the car.  But it amazes me just how helpless an adult male can be, and that’s even after I’ve figured in that Jerry was raised by wolves.

raisedbywolves1Jerry’s baby picture?

I have said it before but I’m really tired of the ass pilots who go off every time some moron commits a gun crime, saying that private gun ownership should be outlawed.  Guns don’t kill people any more than spoons make people fat.  It’s what a person does with the gun or the spoon that matters.

GunsCartoonHow about a conversation regarding personal accountability?

I understand why all those football fans are pissed at Bob Costas.  First of all, football is the last place for sentient minds to be looking for political commentary.  Second of all, though I’m not a football fan by any stretch, most of the football fans I know are rather conservative in their politics.  These guys, if they don’t understand anything else about the Constitution, they get the 2nd Amendment.  The comments Mr. Costas made about gun control in the middle of a football game were at best ill timed and at worst simple minded.  One part of winning hearts and minds is using the correct forum to speak out.  The other part is having a message that actually makes sense.  Poor Bob did neither.

gun-control1Criminalize guns and then only criminals will have guns.  Gee, that makes sense! (sarcasm alert!)

Maybe I’m just getting old, but it seems as if there are so many misplaced sympathies in this world.  I don’t feel sorry for criminals, even if they had horrible childhoods and were raised by wolves.  I got the living hell beat out of me almost every day growing up.  I grew up poor.  I was lucky on some days to have a decent meal and clothes to wear. That didn’t make me a serial killer or a psychopath.  I’m sorry- but growing up poor, or getting the hell beaten out of you by everyone under the sun is not an excuse for criminal behavior.  Acknowledge that your past wasn’t exactly optimal, and get over it.  Do something productive with your life, even if it means merely refraining from harming others.

public hangingI think there would be a lot less crime if we went back to public hangings.

I am a believer in capital punishment in three instances.  Premeditated murder, rape, and child molestation- but these would have to be crimes committed without a shadow of a doubt, i.e. someone caught in the act, or proven guilty by means of irrefutable evidence.  Hang them high and hang them in plain sight.  I think that swift, public justice, as well as to stop mollycoddling violent offenders would do much to cut the rates of violent crime and thuggery in this country.  I also think way too much money and time and effort is wasted on drug enforcement.  Most of the violent crime out there is related to the drug trade.  Take away the incentive. If drugs became dirt cheap and readily available, then there would be a lot less stealing and killing over them.

CommonSenseIt’s probably a good thing that I don’t run the world.

small blue balls small pink treeEspecially when I decide to put up Christmas decorations.

Who Wants to Go to Dog Shit Lake? Springtime in Central Ohio, Sort Of

This weekend it is finally supposed to be above freezing here in lovely Central Ohio.  I know only too well what that means here in Whine Country.  My back yard, which is currently encased in layers of ice and yellow snow, will be transformed.  It will become Dog Shit Lake. 

We have a fairly large back yard, but we also have three large dogs.  The back yard has not thawed out since some time last November.  When it does thaw I know exactly what I will encounter, and it neither looks nor smells good. 

The problem with picking up after the dogs during the winter is that the poo is hiding beneath the snow and ice.  Since it’s hot when it hits the ground (fun fact: normal body temperature for a dog is 101.6 degrees F) dog poo melts through the snow and settles on the ground.  Then additional layers of snow and ice freeze over it so that it is impossible to see.  The dog poo only becomes visible again as the snow- and the poo itself- melts, leaving a noxious cocktail of thawed snow and partially melted, soggy turds.

I’m not shoveling that up.  It really doesn’t help to shovel it anyway, because even if you get the big pieces, you’re not going to get the melty poo water, so it’s still going to reek.

Ahh, the delight of spring in Central Ohio.  The pisser is that even a few days’ thaw is not really spring.  It’s just enough to get the young kids to go back to wearing tank tops and flip flops, but it’s only mid-February.  It will get cold and go back to permafrost for a time or two more at the very least, and the possibility of extended freezing temperatures extends well into April and sometimes even May.

I have to wonder whose dogs are eating in the bathroom.  I know some dogs have a taste for toilet water, and no dog alive will refuse the opportunity to snarf down cat shit should it be made accessible, but one really has to wonder.  I wonder if the author of the note understood that “canine” refers to dogs.  Infestations are usually attributed to pests or vermin such as insects, rats or mice.  Obviously I don’t regard dogs as being pests or vermin, but who knows?  Maybe this person thought “canine” refers to squirrels or rats or some other sort of critter.

Theoretically it could be said that the human gene pool is suffering from a huge infestation of stupid people.  That’s not a nice thing to say, but not everything that’s true is always nice. For anyone who hasn’t already noticed, I am NOT politically correct by any stretch of the imagination.

Sometimes the obvious must be made painfully clear, however, can we assume that a person who needs a sign to be warned not to drink urinal water may not necessarily be literate?  What good is a warning if you can’t read the sign?

Some things should be common sense, but common sense isn’t terribly common anymore. 

Not whizzing on the electric fence sounds like a good idea, no?   There is also an educational song (though the video for some reason shows scenes from Lion King) to remind people of the hazards of tinkling in bad places.  The scary part about Ren and Stimpy is that the older that cartoon series gets the more intelligent they appear to be.

Perhaps in a thousand years, if there is any human society left, they might view such downright stupid humor in the same reverent light as we view the literary works of Shakespeare or Emerson or Faulkner.

Ren!  Enlighten us with your wisdom!  Stimpy!  Share with us your awesome brain!

In a thousand years I won’t be around to witness the madness and depravity that humanity will have devolved into, which is probably a good thing.

The Scourge of Winter Apathy, Interpersonal Relations for the Ineffable Introvert, and a Dearth of Common Sense

Ok, so it is Monday.  I am a misanthropic soul, most admittedly. Yesterday’s sermon really pointed that out to me even more than I wish to admit it.  The summation of this is that I love people but from a distance, and I don’t love the stupid things people do.   When I am deprived of my weekly quiet time (i.e. stuck at home to run and fetch for Jerry) I get more than a bit cranky. I am trying to overcome the scourge of winter apathy, but when it’s too bloody cold for even me to go outside without layers and layers of clothes, it’s not easy, and it gets worse.  It doesn’t help that Target had their usual swimsuit extravaganza on display as of the 15th of this month.   This is Ohio.  The only people buying or wearing swimsuits in January either a.) have their own pool or hot tub, or a membership to an indoor pool, or b.) are going on vacations to places where it is warm enough to go swimming outside.  Since I fit into neither of those categories, the swimsuit display only serves to remind me just how bad I look in a swimsuit anyway, and how long I will have to wait to go swimming again.  When I am in the pool I can care less who is looking at me anyway.   The thing I don’t understand about the early bird swimsuit display is, where are the parkas in July?  If you are going to sell totally seasonally inappropriate apparel, then it would stand to reason that anyone looking for shorts and halters are going to find long-johns and thermal socks.  That wouldn’t surprise me either, although I highly doubt parkas are going to sell very well in high summer when it’s 95 degrees with 100% humidity. 

Usually the end of February is the worst part of winter.  The dismal pallor of late February in Central Ohio has a despair all its own. It’s still technically winter, but it’s just warm enough for the whole outside to thaw out enough to be damp and covered with the old, grey snowbooger scuz instead of permafrost, but it’s definitely not spring.  It rains, but it’s a constant, overcast drippy drizzle, not the torrential rains that accompany “springtime” in Ohio.  The torrential rains- as well as thunderstorms and tornados- come through in March and April.   There isn’t much to look forward to in late February except maybe Mardi Gras.  At my age I want people to forget my birthday, and through some stretch of luck, and the pervasiveness of winter apathy, they usually do. 

If anyone does remember my birthday, try to remember I’d like a one day pass to the indoor waterpark.  Either that or go whole hog and buy me that “Y” membership I can’t afford. 

Hell, I’d be happy with a few new packs of granny panties.  Mine are getting rather threadbare.

Jerry doesn’t seem to realize the toilet isn’t a very good ashtray either.  I think he will find all kinds of disgusting sleaze when he snakes it out.  He likes to flush everything and then wonders why you have to plunge it every time someone takes a healthy poo.  Then again he wasn’t blessed with much common sense.  Since I know that I should forgive him.  Maybe that’s what’s the Prozac is for.

That’s the only way it’s going to get there, too.  Martha Stewart I ain’t.