Attitude, Middle-Aged Angst, and DNR

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I’ve said it before, but since my offspring has more or less achieved the high holy goals of parenting, which are being potty trained, literate and gainfully employed, I am somewhat free to enjoy my second adolescence.

Now that I have a pretty bad ass replica of Théophile Steinlen’s Chat Noir on my calf, I want one more tat. I will wait until fall/winter time to do it, because in the summer two weeks worth of workouts outside of the pool are just too hot.  One bad thing about getting a tat if you prefer aquatic exercise, is you can’t get in the pool for two weeks until the tat is pretty much healed.

I have a DNR on file–  meaning that I do not want to be resuscitated should my heart stop and I’m on my way to the Dirt Nap.  No heroics.  If it’s time for me to die, let my sorry carcass go.  I don’t want to live through a dramatic resuscitation effort only to suck up resources for years- being chronically ill and mindlessly drooling away in some nursing home if that can at all be avoided.   Having one’s DNR tattooed on one’s left chest area (on Hello Kitty’s dress no less- and I’ll have the lettering done in either bright red or black so it’s even more obvious) should drive the point home.

I figure if I’m going to die anyway, why prolong the process?  Maybe it’s a morbid thought, but I want people to be crystal clear that it’s fine by me to keep me off the machines and to let me just die with some comfort and dignity.

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I have to try to get a better outlook.  Granted there have been some incidents in the recent past that have completely pissed me off and demoralized me but I’ve gone through a lot worse.  I may not have much but I do have a healthy sarcastic streak, and comedy is indeed the flipside of tragedy.

Negative-Attitude

I have to change this stuff.

I’ve fallen back into the age old pattern of letting people simply walk all over me.  It’s bad that I’m so used to being a doormat that I have to consciously think about confronting people when they are just plain being assholes.  What is so wrong about calling out the conspicuous douchebag?  I’m sure that my megadouche detection skills are just as good if not better than most people’s, given that I have had exposure to more than my fair share of megadouches in my lifetime.

 

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This is what I want to say to Jerry when he whines about food.  Unfortunately, when he isn’t in the mood for the entreé du soir, it means I either end up going out for subs or to the Chinese joint for his hineyness.  Last week I got to get him a sub, and then a replacement sub, when the zit faced high school kids working the evening shift at Jersey Mike’s committed the unforgivable sin: his Philly cheese steak had green peppers on it.  You’d have thought it was anthrax the way he reacted to a few green peppers. They weren’t even the hot peppers, which if you ask me are quite nice on a Philly cheese steak, among a plethora of other things.  But green peppers?  If you don’t like them, pick them off.  As rude as Jerry is in restaurants, green peppers are the least of his worries.  I bet fast food workers see condescending assholes like Jerry from a mile away.

I’m sure Jerry’s gotten things far worse than a few green peppers on his sandwiches.  Saliva, semen and boogers come to mind.  I understand the longing for passive-aggressive revenge more than most.  I might not actually perpetrate vengeful acts, but I fantasize about them a lot.

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If thinking about passive-aggressive revenge is just as bad as actually perpetrating it, I’m in big trouble.

Neal Schon Rules, Bad News and Silver Linings, and Other Ephemera

I’ve adored this guy’s work for 30 years so I’m biased, but this album is good!

I’m glad that I’d agreed to take my sister-in-law with me to the Journey show last night, because when I woke up yesterday I was damned depressed.  Somehow there’s got to be a silver lining in four more years of the worst president in American history, but yesterday morning I sure as hell couldn’t see it.  I still can’t, but part of the Serenity Prayer is accepting what you can’t change.  That being said, I will work like hell to change what I can, and I will still keep on telling the truth about the Naked Emperor.  I have a moral obligation to call out evil for what it is.   I hope and pray that the history of Richard Nixon will repeat itself.  The difference between Obama and Nixon, however, is a.) Obama is evil and corrupt to his rotten core and his deeds far exceed the treachery of Nixon’s, and b.) unlike Nixon, Obama thinks he’s God, and he will not peaceably resign.

The media (who remember have covered for Obama and his slimy cronies all along) are going to say that the GOP needs to move toward the center.  Bullshit.  The GOP needs to move- and stay- more to the right.  Many people didn’t bother to go out and vote for Romney because they couldn’t see a clear difference between the plan Romney proposed and the slimy bait and switch tactics that Obama’s been passing off.  Obama won partially because he’s a liar and adept at deceiving the American people.  He’s played the race card, apparently to the point of making people believe that just because one is black that their race gives them free rein to be completely inept but still get a free pass.  I say equal opportunity also means that every race has the equal opportunity to SUCK- and to be called out and face the consequences when they suck.  My black friends don’t get that, and most of them still think Obama is the best thing since sliced bread.

My black friends don’t believe me when I tell them about Obama’s complicity and approval of black genocide (40% of all aborted babies are black, but black people are only 12% of the population,) and how it works in his best interest to keep as many people as he can uneducated and governmentally dependent.  When I criticize Obama and call out his hatred of our country to them – and even to some white people I know who have inexplicably jumped on the Obama Titanic- the first response is that I’m a racist.  Though I also point out that I would vehemently oppose a(n) (all) white guy who has done and said what Obama’s done and said, my rational arguments against him fall on deaf ears.

Apparently these two ass-clowns were so funny that people wanted an encore.

It’s never too early to impeach, although Obama would really have to do something outrageous to cheese off Harry Reid and that crowd.  If it were possible for the public outcry against him to be so overwhelmingly loud that even the Dems in the Senate would have to hear and fear for their cushy positions, they would throw Obama under the bus, but the problem so far is even with all the egregious errors and trampling on the Constitution and the impeachable offenses that Obama’s committed, the media covers for Obama.  They’ve done a really good job of putting a ribbon on a turd, but let’s face it, even when you put a ribbon on a turd, you don’t make the turd not be a turd anymore.

But the Affirmative Action president gets a pass!  Apparently if you’re black (or half black) you don’t get the equal opportunity to face the consequences when you fail.

Sadly, while I liked Mitt Romney more as I listened to him, even I have to admit that I didn’t so much vote FOR Romney as I did AGAINST Obama.  That’s not a really great motive, even when you are voting against evil.  I think what this country really needs is to have someone really great to believe in, and who can explain his/her plan in a way that connects with the majority of people. Unfortunately the last one we have seen like that is Reagan, and he’s dead.  Romney is a good man, and I thought he had a much better plan than Obama, although I freely admit my mentally challenged deaf Husky could do a better job in the Oval Office than Obama.  At least Sheena is housebroken.  The problem is that Romney is not a Reagan, as much as people like me who are so disgusted and appalled with the Marxist-in-Chief would have liked him to be.  Romney appealed to those who really had it with Obama, but Romney didn’t appeal to those who for whatever (bizarre and whacked out) reason were neutral toward or favored Obama.  Therein lies the problem.

I don’t think that being less conservative and more politically correct is the answer at all, unlike the MSM pundits who want the American public to shut up and be good little socialists like they are in Europe.  I think being American, not accepting the status quo, and standing up for the truth is the only way to fly.  The challenge is how to get the right message across, and finding the right person to do it.

All I know is I will keep on telling the truth, and maybe one person might get it.  I’m too crass and to the point to even think of pursuing political office.  For the most part, I vent, but maybe my venting will make someone stop and think.

Back to Neal Schon.

I am so glad I got to hear his rendition of the National Anthem.

The Journey show last night was awesome, and so were the other bands- Pat Benatar and Loverboy were excellent live, and the whole show was certainly worth seeing.  If anything it lifted my mood and got my mind out of the dark funk.

This too shall pass.  I don’t like to let political views stand between friends, even though I believe very strongly in what I believe in.  At least I care.  I may not be 100% right but then again neither is anyone else.

Everyone has to believe in something.  I believe I’ll get back to jamming to The Calling and stay out of trouble for the afternoon.

I Have My Fanny Back!, Transcendental Redneck Moments, and a Beer (in a tree…)

I love double entendre, but no, I’ve not managed to misplace my ass.  Yet.

Fanny, for the occasional reader, is my 15# silver tabby and white cat.  I named her whilst listening to a classic song by Queen: “Fat Bottomed Girls.”  Fanny was only a 12 week old kitten when I rescued her from the side of the road in rural Fairfield County, (way out in BFE)  and I didn’t think her to be terribly large at that time, but the name took on a life of its own as Fanny grew.  It seems rural barn cat type cats grow really well on premium cat food and relaxed, climate-controlled indoor living.  By the time she was old enough to be spayed, even the Vet commented, “This is going to be a BIG cat.” 

One of the reasons I like our Vet is that she is very seldom wrong.  She was not at all wrong about Fanny being a behemoth.  I wish she were wrong about how difficult it is to treat Lilo’s (our crosseyed and bowlegged GSD/Chow mix) allergies.  Lilo absolutely hates the baths in the special shampoo, but it does help keep her skin from getting all nasty and crusty.  Seborrhea really sucks.  It is manageable with good diet and frequent baths (and occasional cycles of Prednisone) but I wouldn’t wish it on any poor dog.  Especially Lilo, because she is very sweet.

I’ve seen larger cats- somehow our Vet ends up with the same sturdy barn cat types like Fanny, and she’s had some males that have been over 20#, but female cats tend to be smaller than males.  Fanny is probably in the 90th percentile of cat size.  She is large-framed, but she does have some big meat on those big bones too. 

One thing Fanny likes to do from time to time is to sneak out the door when the dogs go out.  Usually I catch her- she’s not a fast runner by any stretch- but if I don’t see her slip out I can’t catch her.  Thursday night I have to admit I was not at my most aware.  Between camping out at Children’s Hospital with the kids and a very sick baby girl, and trying to keep up with the end of the month rush at work, I was pretty strung out at 11PM.  I’d been up and running since 4AM.  I remember letting the dogs out.  Friday morning I realized Fanny must have sneaked out with them as she wasn’t readily available to suck down her morning portion of wet food.   Fanny does not normally miss out any sort of feeding opportunity, and has been known to shove dogs out of the way to get what she has coming.  Fanny backs down to no dog.

I was so preoccupied with my granddaughter that I really didn’t get too worked up about poor Fanny.  By the time the baby was released from the hospital Saturday I was an exhausted mess, and such a sorry sack of shit that I didn’t even go out to try to find Fanny.  I did make some excursions out back Sunday but was unsuccessful.  By yesterday (Monday) I was really getting frantic that she hadn’t appeared at the back door acting as if she were starving to death, so I made yet another foray into the back lot behind the fence under the junk truck and in the middle of the burr bushes.  Finally I heard a weak little mew (for a large cat Fanny has a very tiny voice) and saw her pointy little head peek out from under the truck.   She simply hunched down and let me scoop her up.  So I am delighted to get her back even though I was covered with those damned burrs.

I think I’m going to have to collar and microchip that cat even though she despises a collar. I don’t know where her head is at getting out- there’s no food, the ferals absolutely hate her, and they chase her off before she can even get to the food scraps we throw out for them. 

Just a transient thought- I hate pompous assholes who think they know it all and their shit doesn’t stink, but who go to great lengths to rub other people’s noses in their mistakes.  Never mind that the person who is getting ripped on is the one who actually does something other than fart off and run their mouth about sports and other stupid shit.  The only reason people like that don’t appear to screw up is because the only things they bother to do is showboat, nitpick those who are doing their jobs for them (because they’re either too lazy or  too stupid to do their own work) and bitch about what other people are doing and nosing about in their business.  These same people who seem to be first to make a mountain out of a molehill are always willing to let me do their work as well as my own while they fart off and get into some stupid assed discussion about sports or gambling or other stupid shit.  I really, really, really hate that- although I won’t mention any names.  I would like to engage in some passive-aggressive revenge, but even that’s not worth it.  Those sorts of people are just not worth the effort or the aggravation. 

I know, I know, the best thing I can do is ignore such commentary, and usually I do.  I can take criticism a lot better from those who aren’t lazy snobs who are obsessed with sports, and who admit that from time to time they screw up too.  Dad always said if you never screw up it’s because you aren’t doing anything.  No shit.  Maybe it’s my own fault because I never got interested in sports, but I don’t have the attention span for such bullshit. It’s just too much of a waste of time.  I do really want to throttle the pompous asshole who I am being kind enough not to name….must…think…of…something….else.

On a brighter note, The Bob and Doug McKenzie version of the 12 Days of Christmas has got to be one of my favorite holiday themed songs.  And a beer in a tree indeed.   I love the visual:

Must…not…strangle…pompous….assholes….