A Fair Assessment? and Judgment vs. Mercy

Newborn_human_child

I admit I’m biased in favor of life.  Especially when I hear of freaks like this.  I don’t have sympathy for women who treat their newborns like trash, (or their unborn children, for that matter) especially if they live in states that allow you to turn in a newborn at a hospital or fire station with no questions asked.  You might not want the kid, but someone else does.  More importantly, that kid deserves some sort of a chance.  There are millions of people who can’t have kids of their own for whatever reason who would be delighted to take your “unwanted” child in as their own.

All I can say to that is- unless she is profoundly mentally challenged, or suffering from an extreme mental illness- : selfish bitch.

aliciaenglert

So you were afraid your parents might think you’re a slut? I can almost understand that mentality from a 12 year old, but from someone who’s 23?  Besides, I’d rather my parents think I’m a slut than for them to discover that I’m an attempted murderer.

I was 22 when my son was born.  Yes I was (at the time) married to the sperm donor.  However, my son was not planned, and the timing was awkward at best.  Even so, it wasn’t a difficult choice- my son’s life and well-being took precedence over mine, and my son’s life and well-being definitely took precedence over my sorry excuse of an ex as well as said ex’s mother.  That’s a long story and I am not entirely without fault, but even as a rather emotionally impaired specimen, I have some sense of when to do what’s right rather than what appears to be expedient- or even logical.

I’m not even one of those people who is thrilled about being around kids.  One on one is OK, but not a whole gang of kids at one time.  I have no clue what a normal childhood is supposed to look like other than what I gleaned from the child development charts and so forth that I pored over in the hopes that my child might possibly turn out to be normal– or at least gainfully employed, and not a serial killer.   So far- and solely by the grace of God- my sorry parenting seems to have worked out.  He does have a job and as far as I know he hasn’t killed anyone.  As far as being normal, well, at least he is a good conversationalist, and he has good hygiene.  Then again, the same could be said of Ted Bundy, so you never know.

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Ted looked normal, but then, sociopaths usually do.

Even though I could never categorize myself as a warm-and-fuzzy mommy, I tried.  My son, the precious only male child, did thank me for being a hard ass.  That was probably the most rewarding thing he has ever said to me. It’s easy to just capitulate and give your kids what they want and attempt to shelter them from anything that might bruise their precious, fragile self-esteem.  It’s hard to say no, to set boundaries, to instill a work ethic, and to adhere to certain moral absolutes, but your kid isn’t supposed to be your “buddy.”  Maybe when they’re adults, but not when they are still kids and are still discovering why shampooing one’s hair and brushing one’s teeth daily are essential, mandatory life practices.

brush teeth

Mandatory: not negotiable, and NOT optional!

Our current societal mentality is all about what’s comfortable, what’s easy and what’s disposable.  Raising a child is not comfortable, not easy, (not cheap either) and 23 years later, he still “needs mommy” but, thankfully, not in the same way he did as a toddler.  I don’t have to bathe him or change shitty diapers, which is definitely a plus.

I don’t think the Roe v. Wade decision did much to make people see that children are valuable, but as heinous as the idea of killing innocent children for convenience sake is, it’s a symptom of a larger, age old problem.

It’s all about the pervasive view that, “It’s all about me,”- the temptation of the Garden.  “I can have it all,” or as the serpent in the story tempts Eve- “you will be like God.” (Genesis 3:5)

German_Adam_and_Eve

It won’t make you God, but it will make your life a lot more complicated.

But isn’t hindsight 20/20?

Oh, yeah, we humans want to be our own gods. Believe that.  Call it “original sin,” or “the depravity of man,” but that desire is the root and the essence of what’s wrong with humanity and society, and we can’t fix that longing because that’s written into who we are.

I know even though I find certain human actions to be reprehensible, that I am every bit as much a sinner and a violator as anyone else.  I don’t have the authority to pass judgment on other people, and I don’t want that authority either.  I know all too well that I don’t have much empathy, and I don’t have a high tolerance for stupid behavior.  I will comment on the actions of others- and I do have the authority to condemn certain actions, even though I have no way of discerning the thought processes and motives behind those actions.

The only answer I have for that is: Kyrie elaison – God have mercy, Christ have mercy.

Have mercy on us all.

Insight From the Empathy-Impaired, and an Ode to Caffeine

dontcare

I have feelings.  Sort of.  When I choose to acknowledge them.

I am not a warm and fuzzy individual. I never was, and probably never will be.  If I live to be my great-grandmother’s age (she was 94 when she passed) I will probably end up like the old battle-ax that lived across the street from my parents’ house who was dead and decomposing for months before the water meter reader had the bad fortune of being downwind.

By that time it was high summer, and the coroner opined that she’d expired some time in February.  Nobody missed her for that long.  Thankfully she hated animals as much as she did humans, otherwise some little ankle biter (I couldn’t imagine this woman as a dog lover at all, but I really can’t imagine her having a real full size dog) would likely have developed a taste for human flesh.

Dogs are not gourmets, nor are they picky. (note: this incident of “dog eats humans” happened in the UK.)  Mom had one dog (of the ankle biter persuasion) who would dine on soiled feminine hygiene items, and another that would eat entire pairs of underwear.  Decomposing, rotten old fossil would probably be a step up from those culinary delights.

Maxi_Pad_Tampon_Costume

I think I just found my next Halloween costume.

Mom’s dog really did eat these things though. Another reason for my disdain of ankle biters.

Even considering my fear and loathing of most social interaction, for some bizarre reason, I end up being everyone’s twisted Ann Landers.  Perhaps my carefully crafted outer façade is too good.  I’m trying to blend in and navigate through the sea of humanity with all its complex nuances and petty flourishes, but I’m not asking to get pulled into the fray.  Most of the time I just want to be left the hell alone.

natures gift skillet

An iron skillet is a multipurpose tool.

I considered the collection of iron skillets in the kitchen for a brief moment last night.  Yes, they are excellent for making fried chicken and/or cornbread (ironically, two foods I no longer indulge in) but I have to admit I was not amused by Jerry’s drunken forays into my room at 9:30 and again at 11:00.

I’m generally out by 8:30 or 9PM.  I don’t do late nights very well, especially when it’s a Tuesday night and I have to work the next day.  I have no idea how he can party like a rock star during the week and not fall asleep (or worse) at work.  I know I’m a long, long way from the days when I could party all night and go all day long too.  44 is a long way from 17- but 56 is even longer.  I don’t know how he can remain vertical the next day, especially after both swilling Natty Lites and staying up until all hours of the night.  I can’t do it even with coffee and Monster.

monster-energy-drink

I figure if I were going to die from caffeine overload, it would have happened back in the day.

Ah, the good old days- when “nutrition” for me meant the Four Food Groups: nicotine, caffeine, sugar and grease.  I gave up the cigs and generally avoid both sugar and grease whenever possible, but I don’t see me giving up the caffeine entirely.  I’m one of those people who likes coffee “thick,” and I’m not referring to loading it up with extraneous crap.  I like my coffee black and thick, almost like espresso.  I like espresso too, come to think of it, with nothing in it but coffee.

Espresso

No liquor.  No sugar. No cream.  Just coffee.  Concentrated.  Mmmmmm.

I could use a double shot right about now, come to think of it.   I like iced coffee too, as long as the coffee is super strong and there’s nothing in it other than ice and coffee, unless I don’t have anywhere to go, then I don’t mind adding a couple of shots of Bailey’s.  I don’t drink often, but I actually like the taste of Bailey’s and coffee- iced or hot.

baileys

A shot or two of this in some iced coffee would be a beautiful thing right now.

Bunkies With Beezelbub, Absolute Power, and Who Needs What?

Now we know the Voice of the Teleprompter!

Perhaps it is not very nice for me to insult Beezelbub that way, but the pursuit of power corrupts in ways that can turn an honest man crooked, and a crooked man into a ruthless despot.  This is why the Framers of the Constitution wisely included separation of powers, so that at least in theory, no one man can hold too much power.  I am not a fan of our current president, to put it mildly.  I understand it takes a strong personality and a buttload of money to get elected to public office. There have been precious few po’ folk in the Oval Office (Harry Truman was probably the last.)  How many people with strong personalities and a buttload of money are particularly moral or ethical?  Some politicians are less odious than others, some are positively vile and devoid of any redeeming features, but as far as genuinely “good,” maybe they exist, but I’d need to see it to believe it.

Having neither a strong personality nor buttloads of cash, it is highly unlikely that I would ever aspire to hold public office.  I have a healthy cynicism toward politicians (even Republicans who claim conservatism/fiscal responsibility when it serves their purpose) anyway.  I don’t see how it would be possible today to be honest- or at the least to attempt to stick to one’s principles- and survive in the world of politics.

Ted looked normal, anyway.

I can see how psychopaths could do very well in the political sphere.  Is Obama Ted Bundy’s political cousin?  What about Bill Clinton? To be fair, the most recent president that Obama reminds me of is Richard Nixon.  Here was a guy who was also paranoid and secretive and involved in shady business, though Dick Nixon’s a choirboy (as is Clinton) when compared to the current Obfuscater In Chief.

I don’t think anyone’s in the political game for altruistic motives.  One can argue that there is no such thing as true altruism, because people reach out to others to fulfill their own needs for belonging and self-esteem.  Obama reaches out to the entitlement crowd because to them they’re voting for Santa Claus.

I can go on for days on this one.

Of course, human beings have needs.  It’s just not the function of government to provide those needs for people who should be working and providing for themselves.

Another tidbit from Psych 101: Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs.

Not to disagree too much with Maslow, but I know people whose hierarchies are a lot different.  Such as Jerry’s:

Not just any beer.  Natty Lite.  Acck.

I think that hierarchy stays pretty consistent as one ages too.  As a little kid mine would have looked something like this:

Plus ça change, plus c’est la même chose– the more things change, the more they stay the same, and yes, I drank coffee even as a very young child- thanks Grandma, for putting the Folger’s monkey on my back!

I think part of the problem with society today is that self-esteem is over-rated.  You shouldn’t feel good about yourself if you suck.  Normal people naturally feel shitty when they know they should do something about their suckiness. Save the feeling good for when you’ve accomplished something.

I remember all the vapid little cartoons and sketches and stuff designed for kids back in the 70’s to make them feel good about themselves. I watch that stuff today and a good bit of it makes me want to vomit.  Some of it was good, such as telling girls that they can be astronauts just like the guys, and that it’s OK for guys to cry in public, even if it makes them look like pussies to the rest of the world.   The problem is that touchy-feely stuff has morphed even further into the notion that the world owes you simply because you’re vertical and sucking up valuable oxygen.  I still remember Steve-o and his attempts at the “I’m entitled because I’m breathing” tactic to get out of doing unpleasant tasks, such as, “I don’t have to clean the cat box, Mom, because I’m just fine the way I am.”  Ok, keep up that philosophy and you can talk yourself out of doing anything menial- or meaningful- for that matter.   Nice try, but I won’t let you get away with it.  I was a Mean Mommy.  I made him do chores.  It was good for him.

I think for a long time Steve-o thought I was the reincarnation of Joan Crawford, which is erroneous on two levels.

First, I don’t believe in reincarnation. Second, Joan died in 1977.  I was born in 1969, which makes such a notion logistically impossible.

Why would anyone want to improve themselves and work to reach their potential if they’re convinced that they’ve reached the apex of personal achievement simply by getting out of bed? I have a problem with that.  Perhaps it’s my flaming type-A personality shining through yet again, but if you’re going to suck up valuable oxygen, do something at least halfway constructive with it.

“You’re not a *eff-tard…You’re just a tard,” probably isn’t a very good apology when you’ve called your son an *eff-tard in a fit of anger.  I’m sorry, Steve-o.

Mommy doesn’t do well with things like empathy and compassion.

Anyway, I know this election season I’ve found it hard to hold my tongue, and while I strive for civility, I often fail miserably.  It looks like I will have to settle for my two good friends, satire and sarcasm, to get me through.

Sadly, no matter how things turn out, ‘ol Splitfoot is going to have a field day.