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

 

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

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

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

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

burqa

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

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This isn’t Detroit…yet.

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

obama-napolitano-profiling-terrorist

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

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

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A Healthy Dose of Irony, Harmony In the Dissonance, and Dennis Rodman

nixon-agnew

Hell, Dick Nixon was a freaking paragon of virtue compared to the current squatter in the Oval Office!

I should have gotten a pic of it, but to my delight, I saw one of these old stickers firmly planted on a Toyota Venza in the Costco parking lot today.   I immediately saw the irony and found it hilarious- the way I took it is that Dick Nixon and company would be a damned sight better than the train wreck of a presidential administration that’s currently defiling the White House.

I know we’re in real trouble when I start seeing these on cars:

carter-mondale

I bet Jimmy Carter has already sent Obama a heartfelt thank-you card.   If he hasn’t, he should.  I have a suggestion:

jimmy carter thank you card

History will have to be kinder to Jimmy Carter after Obama – as well as Clinton, Nixon, LBJ, Harding, and even Woodrow Wilson- after Obama gets done defiling the office.

I love those sappy old Victorian cards.

to my queen

Just what I always wanted- disembodied hearts- in the mail!

I know I don’t see things the way the rest of the world does most of the time.  In the past my alternate perception caused me quite a bit of cognitive dissonance, though as I grow older and ostensibly, wiser, I’m discovering three disturbing truths:  I’m OK, the rest of the world is screwed up, and I can’t change that.

It really doesn’t help to know when you’re right if everyone else is hell bent on being wrong.  I might try to explain to the lemmings why following everyone else over the cliff is a bad idea, but they’ll dive right over it anyway.

That’s not to say that I’m always right or that I’m infallible.  I’m certainly fallible, and I make a fair share of mistakes.  The bad part of that is I usually screw up when I go against my better judgment and follow the crowd anyway.

Ultimately history is written not by who was right, but by the winners.  Popular opinion may win out today, but in the long run?  Hindsight is 20/20.

I find it interesting that one of the big “kid arguments” is, “But Mom, everyone else is doing it!”  Just because everyone else is doing it doesn’t make it right or good.  Sometimes what the rest of the crowd is doing is funny, though.

RODMAN

When he was 7 or 8 or so, Steve-o begged me and begged me for a Dennis Rodman doll action figure (if it’s for a boy you can never call it a doll, it’s always an action figure, even though a girl would refer to it as a doll) and I got it for him, interchangeable heads and all, against my better judgment.  I think that was the sickest toy I was ever conned into buying, even including having his ear pierced and getting him the entire series of DOOM games.  Steve-o didn’t stay interested in it for long, (mostly because his friends mocked him for playing with a doll.) I think eventually poor Dennis and both of his heads fell victim to either Clara or Lilo’s early adult/final puppy stage compulsion to chew up things.

It was probably Lilo.  She still destroys her toys, and she’s 10 years old.  Clara isn’t nearly as enamored of destroying stuff- unless it’s a bone with peanut butter in it.

Why Dennis Rodman reminds me of Obama, I’ll never know, but I sort of like the concept of popping off and changing out his action figure’s head, for what it’s worth.  Maybe somewhere there’s a sane head that can replace Obama’s goofy one?  Just pop off the goofy one and pop on the rational one?

Obama-pink rodman head resign

“Less Than Optimal,” Liar, Liar, and Uncommon Sense

obama syria war

Straight from the mouth of our “less than optimal” illegitimate president.

Jim Carrey starred in a movie a number of years ago called Liar, Liar in which his character’s (who was a habitual liar) son’s birthday wish was that he couldn’t lie for 24 hours.  I think it would be hilarious if something to that effect happened to Obama- if he had to tell the truth out loud, without a teleprompter, to the American people, for 24 hours.  If he couldn’t evade questioning, and if he was compelled to blurt out the truth, I can only imagine the tales that would be told.  (After all, truth is generally stranger than fiction.) I can only dream of the wave of vindication that would be enjoyed by thinking people (to borrow from Rush Limbaugh,) all across the fruited plain.

Oh, the sweet sound of the truth setting this country free from the entanglement, ineptitude, and tyranny of the corrupt and debauched Obama regime.

Of course, the Liar, Liar movie is fiction, and Obama is too morally bankrupt and caught up in his own delusions to ever admit to the truth, but envisioning Obama as the Liar, Liar instead of Jim Carrey might be even funnier, and a hell of a lot more gratifying to those of us who have seen through his deception from the beginning.

politician test

Knowing how many states are in the United States is a good start.

Anyway, I can really get fired up and distracted on any discussion of politics, and anyone who knows me on any level has probably already figured out how much I loathe Obama.  It would be different if he hadn’t cheated to get where he is.  It would be different if he didn’t make such a concerted effort to do exactly the wrong thing- all the time, every time.   I do find it a bit pathetic that the only time Obama has ever shown any inkling of being the least bit hawkish it is in an effort to help his al-Quida and Muslim Brotherhood friends.  Never mind all the Christians that got killed in that Egyptian mess.  Never mind all the Americans who were killed in Benghazi.   Obama’s all about his home boys, and it shows.

Middle Easterners of various factions and stripes have been killing each other for thousands of years.  Since the only thing that’s consistent in the Middle East is (with the exception of maybe Israel) they hate Americans, why not just let them kill each other, because that’s what they want to do anyway, and cut ourselves out as the middleman?

Jimmy-Carterobama

My apologies to Sir Winston Churchill, but yes, Obama’s that bad.  He’s bad enough that he eclipses the dismal failures of the previous Worst President Ever in a grandiose, epic failure tsunami that I never would have believed possible, except for I’m observing it now as I speak.

Jimmy Carter subscribed (and still does) to most of the same bad ideology that Obama espouses, but with an important difference: motive.  I don’t think Jimmy Carter has the same destructive, anti-American, malicious motives as Obama.  Carter’s not in it (intentionally, anyway) to destroy the economy, to race-bait, to manufacture poverty, or to create division.  I think he just has the old-time thickheaded liberal ideology that followed FDR- that whole delusion of “government for the common good” mess.

However, one does not bring about prosperity by spreading the misery out more widely, which is the idiocy of the “old school” liberal argument.  Prosperity is brought about by spreading around the prosperity (i.e. free market economics) as Reagan rightfully observed in the 1950’s and 1960’s.

Obama doesn’t want to bring anyone prosperity, except for him and his cronies.  He is all about the oligarchy- a handful of elites with all the wealth and power, stealing from those who produce the wealth to give to themselves and to others unwilling to work to bring about that wealth.

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It’s not too late to send him back.

Bacon Flavored Man Chow, Headlines We’ll Never See, and Sarcastic?- Me?

I don’t understand the male fascination with bacon.  Bacon is one of those things that I can eat- in small quantities- but I generally don’t because it is always greasy, and generally always disgustingly salty.  It’s fine crumbled up in potato soup but that’s about it.  Salt and grease are generally not items one wants in the diet in any kind of quantity.  Dogs like bacon too, but they are generally not known for having great culinary requirements.  Any creature who will dine on carrion and dumpster droppings generally is not reliable as a food critic.  George Carlin once questioned, (in reference to cats and “gourmet” cat food, but the principle still applies,)  “How many gourmets lick their own ass?”

When Steve-o, the illustrious Precious Only Male Child, was about four or five he went through an extreme picky eater stage.  No meat, no eggs, no vegetables.  Of course he would eat bacon – perhaps not realizing that “meat candy” is actually made of meat, or what was meat at one time.  I could only get milk down him by putting Hershey’s syrup in it.  The only vitamins he got are whatever vitamins lurk in Pop Tarts, Domino’s Pizza, Mountain Dew, and if I was lucky, ramen noodles.   It was also just my luck that the POMC was tall and large framed- and his picky eating habits were making him “thin for his height” which I got to hear incessantly at every Dr. visit from the time he was four until he was about eleven.  Most people get read the riot act because their kids are lard asses, but I never had that problem.

I got mixed messages from the Dr.s though.  Yes he was thin, yes, he needed more calories to avoid looking like a very white starving African child, but I shouldn’t cater to his demands.  “If he’s hungry enough he’ll eat eventually,” was one response.  Then I was warned, “Do you know how many men I see in my practice who will only eat hot dogs and hamburgers because their mothers fixed them special meals and didn’t make them eat a variety of foods?”

Calling raw broccoli “little trees,” and even dunking them in ranch dressing didn’t work.  He would just suck the ranch dressing off them.  I did get him to the point where he will eat a few meats- the value brand turkey lunch meat from Kroger’s, chicken wings (atomic sauce with plenty of ranch dressing,) medium-rare steak, and Arby’s roast beef.  I don’t think I’ve seen him eat a vegetable- at least not of his own volition- other than fries and ketchup. 

Steve-o was smarter than all that noise.  If he didn’t like something he wasn’t going to eat it, and no one was going to make him.  He would just wait until he was at school or at the sitter’s and then he would either mooch, or trade things for the food he wanted.   He learned the negotiatory arts at a very early age.   There were too many kids at school and at his sitter’s willing to procure him whatever goodies he wanted.  Never mind that Mom- who made us eat granola that resembled dog food in more ways than one for breakfast while other kids sucked down their Froot Loops and Cocoa Krispies-would buy him boxes and boxes of Pop Tarts and then let him free forage in the kitchen for chow.  I am not sure if spray cheese has any nutritional value but I quit buying it when I discovered why the cans turned up empty as soon as they landed in the cabinet.  Spray cheese is just too easy a man food.  Just tilt back your head, spray and swallow.  Steve-o would snarf down the whole can.

Jerry is just as bad if not worse about being a fussy eater.  He will eat vegetables and meat, but for him it’s more about the method of preparation and the spices (or hopeless lack thereof) involved.  Jerry prefers fried food with lots of salt and grease.  He does not like healthy things such as brown bread, baked meats, or anything with red sauce.  He does not like garlic or spicy things. 

But he adores bacon.  The Universal Man Food.

So if it works for the folks at Purina- “dogs don’t know it’s not bacon”- (technically that is a double negative, so apparently they do know it’s not bacon-but- the thing is they’re dogs, and a rotten possum ass will work just fine for them) then how can you expect a man with beer-addled brain cells to know the difference?

Why can’t Purina or some other food-type company come up with something sort of like the Beggin’ Strip, but the difference being it looks like bacon, smells like bacon, but is a completely nutritionally balanced food with all the vitamins and protein and fiber that men won’t eat voluntarily?  It would make my life a hell of a lot easier.

“What am I gonna eeeeeeat?’ (yes, Jerry does whine like this.)

“I got you Bacon-Flavored Man Chow- it’s in the cabinet!”

“Cool,” he replies as he rips open the bag and starts sucking down those bacon-flavored strips.

I’ve always wondered why I’ve never seen women’s sumo wrestling.  I’ve been to Newark, OH.  I used to work there, and one of the perks was the fact that  clothes in my size were always marked down in the local stores- because there was no demand for any women’s clothing smaller than a 4X.  I know women get big enough to sumo wrestle, but you never see Women’s Sumo Championship in the headlines.  If men will pay money to watch skinny bimbos roll around in the mud, then why not pay to watch fat chicks sumo wrestle?  I’m sure they can make those diapers in size 20 underwear size.

Another headline that will probably never appear in my lifetime: Asian Driver Wins NASCAR Race.  Asians are too smart for NASCAR, and typically they drive slow enough to make me look like something out of Smokey and the Bandit.  For those who don’t know how conservatively I drive, I can just imagine Wang commenting to his wife Lee, “Oh, horry clap, she’s goring 62 in a 65!”

I really try not to follow politics too closely because I know how riled up I can get when I do.   I really can’t stand the current POTUS for a number of reasons none of which have to do with his race.  First of all I am not convinced he is even eligible to hold the office of president (his birth certificate is about as convincing as the one I fabricated for Sheena) and even should he be deemed eligible, he’s the Worst President Since Jimmy Carter.

B.O. Must GO!  Here’s my new bumper sticker.

Then again I shouldn’t insult Jimmy Carter like that.  Jimmy at least was an American citizen, a war veteran, and a Christian.  Where he got some of his crazy ideas I’ll never know, but at least with Jimmy his heart was in the right place even if his head was up his ass.  Obama has no heart, and I don’t think even installing a glass belly button would help him see daylight.  Where the hell did the Dumb-o-crats find this asshole and how did they get that many people- other than dead people, illegal aliens and felons- to vote for him?  As much as I am not thrilled about Mitt Romney, I’d vote for him over Obama any day.  I’d vote for Sheena, even though she’s a mentally challenged dog, rather than Obama.   At least Sheena wouldn’t try to block the pipeline and/or keep the US from using our domestic resources.  She does lick her own ass, she’s not above eating out of the trash, and she refuses to wear clothing ,which might not be hot selling points in her bid to be elected- but compared to B. O., Sheena’s a shining star of virtue.

I knew better.  Talking about politics always gets me good and pissed off – and plenty sarcastic.  As if I need help in that.

This Old Cougar, Personal Landscaping, and Age Has Its Advantages

I have to admit I enjoy life a lot more in my cougardom than I ever have previously.  There is still plenty of room for improvement in my quality of life, but over all I am thankful that life in general sucks less than it used to.   My childhood consisted of thirteen years of wearing bad clothes, being a klutzy and nearsighted social pariah, and getting the living thunder beat out of me by my sisters, their friends and the kids at school.  Adolescence wasn’t much better, as I was voted “Least Likely to Get Laid” in the high school Senior Will.  The good part of high school was that I didn’t get beaten up once I had the good fortune to make friends with big girls who could fight.  I looked old enough and usually had money to buy cigarettes, so protection for smokes was a fair trade.  Guys only asked for my phone number so they could call my sisters, but I can’t say I blame them.  I was nothing to look at.

Fast forward into college- that was an improvement mostly in my personal autonomy.  For the most part I could come and go as I pleased, at least as far as my limited finances and the condition of the current tires on my old Subaru allowed.  If I would have had the foresight to have ran, ran, ran away from my ex before I was naive enough to marry him- and went to college in another state- life would have been different.  I don’t know if it had been better, but it would have been different.  Perhaps a better male contributor of half of Steve-o’s DNA would have actually given a shit, and perhaps Steve-o would have gotten better hair.  He managed to get off incredibly well in the genetic lottery with the exception of having bad sinuses and even worse hair.  Coarse, kinky, greasy and mousy brown, just like the sperm donor’s.  Acck.  But hair can be buzz cutted, and when your hair is nasty, the clippers are a beautiful thing.  I am glad he gave up the Robert Plant- sometime- around- 1971  hair style.  I had to wonder what kind of unauthorized insect life was living in that mess.  The only good thing about it is that he didn’t attempt dreadlocks- he has the right kind of hair for it, but Anglo men look absolutely disgusting with dreadlocks even when nature does give them coarse, kinky and greasy hair.  It’s just not culturally congruent- unless you can prove you are related to Bob Marley.

With a good haircut he almost looks normal.  This was not a good haircut.  They didn’t shave it down to 1/4″ or less.  The only good thing about his male parentage is that the sperm donor was 6’2″ .  Steve-o is 6’1″, and he certainly didn’t get height from my family.  The tallest one of us is my formerly sadistic older sister who is 5’9″.  Dad is only 5’6″ and I tower over him if I wear a three inch heel or more.  Then again, the odds are that had I chosen for myself I probably would not have bothered to procreate at all (Steve-o, the illustrious POMC, was not exactly planned) so that’s a bit creepy to mention.

I have to say my 20’s and 30’s pretty much sucked.  Between bad relationships, trying to raise the POMC (mostly alone) and constant work, it was almost all a bad nightmare.  I didn’t make the greatest decisions.  I found myself in some pretty stupid situations.   For a long time I was on a first name basis with day care managers, elementary and middle school principals and guidance counselors, and even more frightening, representatives of law enforcement.  Steve-o did not have a particularly mellow adolescence to put it mildly.  He always had to be the ringleader.  If there was trouble in a communal setting, he was generally right at the center of the action.  Hell, he didn’t need a community to get in trouble.  There’s nothing like explaining to the cable company that the $300 of pay-per-view porn that magically appeared on my statement was procured via the cable remote by my 12 year old.

But finally, I woke up one morning and Steve-o became an adult.  The fact that his first child is due in February might have something to do with it.  I am glad he is being a man and taking care of his obligations.  He even bought a four door car.  I may even dare say he is becoming a responsible adult which scares the hell out of me in a way.  Somewhere in all the chaos I went from young and struggling and constantly moving from crisis to crisis and discovered I became an old cougar.  It seemed the transformation was overnight but as I look back I realize it was by degrees.

There are some things I still find important.  Personal landscaping is a constant challenge.  Women should only have body hair in three places- the top of the head,  thinly sculptured eyebrows, and eye lashes.  Every other bit of hair is unsightly and should be removed.  Nails are another part of the personal landscape.  I like mine big, bold and brightly colored.  In nature bright colors and bold patterns are warning signs.  They say “Don’t Screw With Me.”  That’s why the poison toad is bright orange.

Toe nails must match fingernails.  It’s part of a package.

I refuse to take on the conventional wisdom of platinum blonde hair and boring earth tone makeup for older women.  First of all with my round moony face I look hideous with blonde hair.  Second of all, I like the contrast- dark black hair against my Super White skin.  Third of all I like bold eye shadows and bright lipsticks.  I am taking a cue from nature.  Let them eat the platinum blonde toads- I am brightly and boldly adorned to give the world fair warning.  I am not the average middle aged woman who is content to blend into the wall.

Now that I am in the over-40 set I get to do a lot more observing.  Age has a certain gravitas. I get away with a lot of things that younger people just can’t do. 


I did have a young girl express her dislike of my anti-Obama commentary on the back of my car today.  It was sort of hard to take her seriously because she wasn’t even alive yet when President Reagan was in office.  Too bad she didn’t live through Jimmy Carter.   Then maybe she would have understood where I was coming from.