Let’s Talk About the Obvious

breathing helps you live

It’s amazing how neglect of the study of history is causing the world to repeat it.  Especially the really sucky parts of history that we shouldn’t ever want to relive.

Time after time certain groups of humans have oppressed and counter-oppressed other groups of humans, and frankly, it’s getting old.  You aren’t a slave and I don’t own any, and vice versa.  Let the reparations and entitlement mentality go.  If anyone has time for that crap, he or she has time to work to better his or her situation instead of whining about somebody owing him or her for work he or she never did and pain he or she never suffered.

The current welfare system here in the US is a contradiction, but nobody owes another human being a free ride.  The entitlement gravy train has got to derail, and soon. Appeasement has only created an empty-headed generation of hungry alligators, and the more they are fed the hungrier they get- for things they have neither earned nor deserve. Worse yet, there is an entire faction of government that has arisen (thanks to Lyndon Johnson and the failed “Great Society” nightmare of the past fifty years) to do exactly that, as this faction derives their power and wealth from catering to the lazy and the “manufactured entitled,” at the expense of those who earn their way.

If the statements in the above paragraph seem cruel, do a search using the terms “Fall of Rome,” and/or “Free Bread and Circuses.”  This is more history we fail to teach that needs to be learned.

I don’t care if your ancestors were slaves.  Some of mine probably were too.  I don’t care if your ancestors owned slaves.  Some of mine probably did too.  I also don’t care to subsidize other people’s indiscriminate breeding, drug addictions and just plain laziness either.   If you have time on your hands to breed like rabbits, smoke weed all day, and lie around watching Maury, you have time to do something productive with your life and pay your own way, regardless of your color, gender or supposedly “disadvantaged” background.  In other words, if you want to eat, you need to work doing something productive and meaningful, unless you are genuinely ill or disabled.

If a stoner ODs on heroin, then look at it as saving taxpayers’ money, and that person in his or her ignorance, earned his or her Darwin Award.  Why do we keep on reviving stoners who turn around and go right back to the drugs and their attendant crime?  At some point people have to take personal responsibility for their actions- or lack thereof.

What matters now is how we treat each other and how we can move beyond the distinctions of race, color and culture and start having intelligent dialogue as fellow humans. We as individuals have to own up to the consequences of our own behavior- not what ancestor X or Y supposedly did, but what we do NOW.

We cannot learn from a whitewashed (pun sort of intended) past.  There are really ugly events in human history that we ignore to our peril.  To sanitize our history of everything someone deems offensive prevents others from learning about those things, and is leading to those same things being repeated.

It’s time for the snowflakes to wake up and see and experience reality, where male is male and female is female (except for very rare biological anomalies.)  Reality is a place where lighting candles and singing Kumbaya does absolutely no good in preventing terrorism or bringing back those who are mindlessly killed as a result of it.   Reality is a place where the truth is the truth and nobody has time or patience for the entitled, the easily offended or the lazy.  This may be the reason why the snowflake bleeding hearts are beside themselves with anger and loathing toward President Trump. He has given this country and the world a rather rousing reality call and the backlash is proof that he is doing something right.

America, grow a pair.  Before it’s too late.

 

 

 

Observations of the Great Unwashed, and The Mind is the First Thing to Go

I’ve always been a bit scatterbrained.  My brain does not generally work like a flow chart.  Somehow I go from point A to point F and it usually ends up making sense in the end, but where I got the idea to skip all the points in between I don’t know.   I make some really strange connections that are logical to me but to no one else.  I wouldn’t call it ADHD, because I can truly focus and be detailed- perhaps too much so- when necessity calls for a high level of detail.   I get lost in details very easily if I’m not careful.  But in the normal course of life I have my own personal scribbled mental shorthand that serves as a sort of guide to daily activity. 

This tendency to skip ahead in the logical progression of things sometimes leads to forgetting and/or misplacing things.  I know I should probably slow down or write things down or something like that, but I am not a very good planner by nature.  I always have way too much to do and I wonder how I get any of it done.  I know how easily plans get screwed up and then you end up having to improvise anyway.  For good or for ill, most days I’m winging it.  I think Steve-o has inherited the same characteristic- forgetting those little details, like socks.  Few things are funnier than an adult male (with birdy narrow feet) in purple Hello Kitty socks:

At least someone had a spare pair of socks that didn’t smell like fermented cow shit like the ones he had worn the previous two days.

I’m sort of pissed off that I lost my Skullcandy headphones that I’ve had for about 3 years (a record for me and headphones, as I lose them often) and I had to buy a new set.  The new ones are nice- but I have no freaking clue where in the hell my other set ended up. 

Then there’s the Fanny incident.  I know Fanny tries to get out, and I usually have no problem keeping her in because she’s both big and slow.   Yes, I was sleep-deprived in a bad way and just plain crispy Thursday night, but it’s no excuse.  My ineptitude and oversight  is not worth a dead cat. I know the next time I go to the pet food joint (probably tomorrow) that I am going to have to get her a collar and tag- with a bell- and she will wear it even though I know she hates collars and I will get several weeks’ worth of stink-eye over it.  Cats are vindictive creatures, and Fanny is no exception.  If she were like the other two cats who have absolutely no interest in the World Beyond the Door, then I wouldn’t need to do it.  Perhaps with a bell on I will be able to hear as well as see her.

Sometimes I go digging either in my room or in my purse and I find stuff I didn’t realize I had.  That’s just plain wrong.  I don’t know if I am becoming forgetful simply because I have been  chronically sleep-deprived and constantly running at full bore for such a long time, or because senility is setting in.  I don’t sleep well and haven’t for years because my sinuses drain 24/7.  I have to sleep on a 45° angle (picture a large wedge pillow, because this is what I have to use) to keep from choking to death on my own snot.  It’s better to live with the constant drainage, because if they don’t drain, they get infected and inflamed and I can’t breathe at all. 

NNo one should ever have to worry about choking to death on snot, but I have to.

I guess choking on snot would be a better way to go than ODing and croaking on the crapper like Elvis, or ODing on dog anesthetic like Michael Jackson (Propofol is actually one of the better dog anesthetics because it is metabolized quickly, and can be used on dogs that are sensitive to other anesthetic agents, BUT, even in dogs respiration has to be strictly monitored because one of Propofol’s side effects is that it can stop breathing) or ODing and drowning in the bathwater like Whitney Houston, but I really don’t want to go that way.   I don’t think I’ll be ODing on anything voluntarily, but one of my deepest and most primal fears is being suffocated to death.  I blame my sadistic oldest sister for that one, as well as for my inability to eat or drink after other people- especially blood relatives.  No I will not take a bite off the fork that you stuck in your filthy mouth and slobbered all over.  Not until it has been duly sanitized.   To this day if you take a swig off of my pop bottle, you own it.  I don’t  want it back.  Ever.  Even if you swear you don’t backwash.  I refuse to consciously swap saliva (and whatever else is in the backwash you leave behind) with anyone.  Not the old man, not my son, and probably not even Steve Perry, should he ever have the opportunity to hijack my Diet Dr. Pepper. 

At least I am not as OCD as Mom.  She is one of those people who refuses to touch the inside door handle in a public bathroom, and she still believes you can get VD from a toilet seat.

Maybe not so much VD, but let’s hope that is some sturdy plastic going on there.

I had to take a picture of this sign the other day. It was sort of depressing though, because as I thought about it, no I can’t remember when the last time was, and I am not talking about flowers.  I’m not sure if Clinton or Bush II was President.   I am a pathetic specimen for sure.