Things I Should Not Be Allowed to Do, and What a Nostalgic Feeling

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The Right to Bear Arms Shall Not be Infringed…

Hello Kitty supports the 2nd Amendment.  Do you?

I need to stay away from my granddaughter’s coloring books.

I have to say I got the idea from a lovely website called Coloring Book Corruptions  and it is funny.  Hello Kitty with grenades and mortars and an M-16.  Shame on me.  I probably shouldn’t show her getting a contact buzz from a field mouse either.

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Terrible, I know.

I remember how much fun I used to have with old magazines scribbling on the faces and making people look like they drooled or had snot all over them.  Puerile and sophomoric, yes, I get that, but I need some kind of harmless artistic outlet.  It’s cool that I’ve discovered one can do a similar thing with cross-stitch patterns, where you stitch samplers of skulls and knives and gory images with off color and pithy sayings.  There are books out there with the patterns ready made, but before I buy those I’d like to experiment with a few of my own.

It’s been a long time since I really sat down and enjoyed some cross-stitch.  That’s a shame because it can be relaxing.

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Oh, yes they will.

I may have some time for such relaxing pursuits this weekend, as we are supposed to get a big old dose of the White Death here in beautiful Central Ohio on Sunday.  Joy and rapture.  I am not going anywhere in it even if I am driving a 4X4. What people don’t realize is that 4 wheel drive does not make you invincible.  It gives you a bit more traction on snow, but it is not worth a tinker’s damn on freezing rain or ice.  The last thing I need is to have something happen to Jerry’s truck.  He’s rather cavalier when it’s my car involved, but if it’s his truck, that’s a whole different situation.  I’m sure he wouldn’t be sitting around for a month waiting on it to get fixed.

I’m still waiting on my car to be finished.  The last I saw it, they were repairing the decklid and the finish panel under the decklid that is beneath the rear fascia.  The new rear fascia hasn’t been painted yet and neither has the decklid or finish panel.  I am satisfied, however, that the small dent in the finish panel has been duly repaired, treated and primed so the back of my car doesn’t rust out from the inside.

My freaking out about whether or not my car is repaired correctly is worse than when medical people have to be patients in a hospital or doctor’s office.  I’ve been around automotive repair my entire life and I am all too aware of what can and does go wrong.  I see it every flipping day.

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Nasty.

And yes, I have seen cars fall off of racks.  This is not pretty, and in both instances that I witnessed, it was only the Hand of God that kept the unfortunate techie from being splattered.

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Surprisingly, the vehicles usually aren’t that horribly damaged when they fall.

Unless they fall into something else…

I want my car back.  I also want the White Death to go away, so I can not be as paranoid about my car once I do get it back.  Only the White Death won’t go away for awhile yet.  It has yet to fade to the snowbooger grey sticky muck.   Here begins the February Funk, and it sucks ass.

Another Dog? Yes I’m Nuts, and More Obvious Truths

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I am surprised that I’ve been 2 1/2 months with only two dogs.  Clara and Lilo don’t seem to mind one bit, as they have been constant companions for the better part of a decade, but I know what I’m thinking in the back of my head, and what Jerry’s thinking in the front of his head.  Our dogs are treated better than most people’s kids, but they still are working girls.  They don’t just look cute and eat high dollar dog food.  They are our home security.  In this day and age I don’t want to be dog-less.  It’s hard enough to sleep at night as it is.

I am more than mindful of the fact that a dog’s lifespan (ideally) is about 15 years, though a large dog’s lifespan can be shorter than that.  Sheena was only about seven when she died, although Sheena had Issues that Clara and Lilo don’t have.

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Sheena’s laundry list of health problems finally caught up with her- at only seven years old.

Clara’s 11.  Lilo’s 10.  Both of them are in good health, but they are not young dogs by anyone’s standards.

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Kayla (right) at age 14, Clara (left) at age 2

Kayla was almost 16 when she passed, which is almost unheard of for a large GSD.  We were given the responsibility to care for Kayla in her retirement (she was 11) and were told, “they don’t live much past 12.”  Kayla was an effective security dog up until the last six months of so of her life- after she had already had Clara well-trained.  I know that Kayla’s lifespan is the exception rather than the rule.   Heidi (also a GSD) didn’t “live much past 12. ”  She was 12 when she passed-but Heidi had some of the same issues Sheena did.  I almost want to avoid GSDs completely because of all the health problems they’re known to harbor, unless I luck upon another Bavarian import like Kayla.  Even though Kayla was from a good bloodline and enjoyed good health for almost 15 of her nearly 16 years, most GSDs are not that fortunate.

To make the whole dog-finding process more complex, I really want a Belgian Malinois, or barring that, at least a Malinois/GSD mix.  I’m probably going to have to spend $800-$1000 to get the dog I really want, and I will probably have to make a substantial road trip to boot. I’m willing to do that for the right dog, but if I can find a shelter dog that fits the bill, better yet.

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Here’s what I’m looking for- a young female Malinois. 16 weeks to 2 years would be ideal- the younger the better.

I have time, and I’d rather keep a lookout for suitable shelter dogs or rescues, but Jerry is Jerry.  He can procure or find just about anything that exists.  The girls need a protégé.

I’ve never had a male dog, and don’t particularly want one, as the girls tend to have fewer health problems (when spayed) and longer lifespans.  That, and I really can’t deal with dogs that hump people, and that hump other dogs, or unfortunate petite black cats.  I know not all males are humpers (and some females oddly enough, are) but the visual of Jerry’s Mom’s weirdo odd-eyed Shih-Tzu humping poor Isabel is burned into my retinas.  That might not be entirely fair, as ankle-biters are strange anyway.  As far as I’m concerned, a dog should be at least 50#, and I have a strong preference for the “protection” breeds.  They seem to be more intuitive and intelligent than the average ankle-biter.

reverse racism

When anyone is “more equal” by merit of their race, gender, behavior choices, et cetera, there is no equality and no justice.

I don’t believe in the concept of retribution when it is not directed toward the original wrongdoer.  I understand that people of certain races were targeted for unfair treatment in the past, up to and including torture, lynchings and genocide.  The problem is that those wrongs are not “made right” today by denying justice simply because a person is of a certain race or ethnic group.

In order for justice to be just it has to be colorblind- not politically correct or expedient for certain “more equal” pigs.

blind justice

If someone breaks into my house and threatens me and I am in fear of my life, I’m going to blow his/her head off and I’m not really going to care if that person is black, white, green, straight, gay, bi or furry.  I have to agree with the Zimmerman acquittal for that reason.  I have a right to defend myself if I am being attacked and am in fear of my life.  I shouldn’t have to think twice because my attacker belongs to a “protected” group, like the Al Sharptons and Obamas and other race baiters of the world want us to believe.

Should black people be able to perpetrate crime against white people with impunity because some black people were victimized by white people in the past?  Obviously the race baiters would scream bloody murder should anyone suggest the opposite scenario, (and they do even when it’s not warranted) but why should crimes perpetrated by ANYONE get a pass?  Deeper yet, why should any person have to forfeit his/her right to self defense when he/she is being threatened by a perpetrator of any color?  The Trayvon Martin issue was conveniently crafted into a racial issue- when the real issue was the right of self defense.

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It seems like a white person using a white toilet is enough to get the race baiters going.  It’s reverse racism and it’s just as ugly regardless of who’s being racist toward whom.

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To those who are protesting the Zimmerman acquittal, perhaps the real issue is crime- and remembering that in this country, much to Obama and Al Sharpton’s chagrin- citizens still do have the right to defend themselves.

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The Second Amendment is crucial to the preservation of American freedom…which is why Obama and others who are anti-freedom can’t stand it.

Then again, the best way to know if a public policy is wrong- and/or in support of the criminal element- is if Obama supports it. That’s why he’s all for gun control, abortion, punitive taxation on commerce, and letting every third world terrorist nut job in the country.  I wouldn’t be surprised if he is trying to set us up for a takeover by his friends in the terrorist world.

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It’s long past time for this country to get beyond race and start addressing the entitlement culture and the nanny state, which are the real roots of both poverty and crime.

Psychopathy is Intriguing, The Fickle Finger of Justice, and Don’t Can the Evidence

I don’t know if Ted Bundy’s ’68 Bug really qualifies as a “celebrity car,” because it’s kind of hard to envision a serial killer driving one of those.  I would probably place most psychopathic killers in old police auction Caprices or Crown Vics, if I had to profile.   Maybe today I would say a normal car like a Camry or an Accord, so as not to attract the undue attention of law enforcement.  Then again, in the ’70’s VW Bugs were “normal cars.”  I am (to my Dad’s and my son’s chagrin) not terribly enamored of air-cooled VWs for a few reasons.  Air cooling means no hot water heat, which most of us take for granted when it’s 20° below.  The old Bugs had a charming trait when it was that cold.  One would have to scrape the frost off the inside of the windshield.  The one winter- I think it was ’87 or ’88- I was unfortunate enough to have to drive the ’72 every day I got frostbite in my feet and ankles.  When I finally got another (water cooled thank God) Rabbit I was overjoyed.

I love the old Bugs as a curiosity, but as daily drivers they are a pain in the rear unless you live somewhere that’s it’s 70° and sunny with low humidity every day.  Ohio is NOT 70° and sunny every day, and the humidity is only low in the dead of winter when it’s too frozen to have humidity.   Old cars in general don’t like temperature extremes, but the Bugs are particularly temperamental.  If it’s too hot they can overheat easily, as well as it’s hotter than the stygian depths of hell in the car if it’s not moving.  I probably still  have burn scar imprints of the vinyl nubbins from the ’72’s seat emblazoned in the skin of my thighs.    If it’s too cold they are difficult to start- though they generally will run OK in the cold- but driving one in the extreme cold gives the word frigid a whole new meaning.

If you didn’t know Ted Bundy was a psychopathic serial killer, one might almost think him to be a rather hot looking dude.

I freely admit I have more than a passing interest in the macabre.  One of the reasons I took it upon myself to learn about criminal profiling and how to avoid being a victim is that I grew up witnessing a lot of bizarre shit.  Yes, I grew up in a small town, but in small towns much of the crime happens under the radar. Unless it’s something most dramatic or egregious, it gets swept under the rug.  You got to make it worth Channel 10’s while to send the Eyewitness Mobile Spy Cam 45 miles out in the middle of nowhere when there are shootings and stabbings and flaming car wrecks just up the road.

Sometimes people think that because one lives in a small town that there’s no violence or crime and everyone’s like Ozzie and Harriet or the Brady Bunch, but the reality is that small towns have never been nearly as pristine as the people who live in small towns want you to think.  There’s every bit as much scandal and probably then some- because those who live in the city just don’t have the time and energy to get so obsessed with other people’s lives.

No, this is not small town life. Not by a long shot.

It’s more like this.  Sort of like Deliverance, only without the canoes, mountains or banjos.

When I was growing up what would now be called domestic violence was just stuff that happened.  Men beat their wives and kids and it was (not right, mind you, but it was) considered normal.  One lady who lived directly behind us (and was part of the reason why Dad insisted on moving out of that house) had enough of her old man coming home drunk and beating her.  He worked at one of the local factories.  For about two weeks he didn’t show up at work.  She kept calling him in sick,  so some of his co-workers took it upon themselves to go check up on him.  When she could not explain why he wasn’t there at home in bed, the guys got suspicious.  Then as they were leaving, the door to the utility room was open. One of the guys peeked in the door and noticed shelves and shelves of large canning jars with strange looking meaty stuff in them.  She had killed him, chopped him into Mason-jar size pieces and canned his happy ass- most literally.  He was sort of a big dude, so I wonder to this day if she had a chain saw or a saws-all or did she just do it the (quieter) old fashioned way with a hacksaw?   I also wonder if she planned to eat him.  Why keep the evidence unless you’re planning to do something with it?  She probably would have gotten away with it if she’d just loaded him up in his truck and dumped him out in Killdeer Bog where the copperheads, coyotes, raccoons, possums, and other assorted swamp critters would have done away with him.

Yummy.  But they do pick the bones pretty clean.

I was about 5 years old when the Dismemberment and Canning Incident happened, because I remember asking Dad why the yellow tape said, “POLICE LINE DO NOT CROSS.” I bet that was one time he didn’t appreciate my early reading ability- or hyperlexia- one bit. It was bad enough I read the newspaper, road signs, billboards and any other printed word I could view- whether I should have been viewing it or not.  I found out the full story many years later, because the local paper had a big write up on her when she was paroled.   I think she only escaped the death penalty because there was a brief window in which the death penalty was suspended in Ohio- personally I think we should take a cue from Texas and ramp it up a bit- but she was partially exonerated (I think) because her old man beat her and she was technically a battered woman.  In 1974 no one had heard of a battered woman defense, but by the late ’80’s I think that sort of thing was starting to come to light.

In this poor woman’s case (I can also remember hearing this couple’s rather heated fights in the middle of the night) I think paroling her was the right thing to do.  I know how difficult it is for a woman to leave an abusive relationship, and I also know that there’s the predatory killer who kills for the thrill of it, and the desperation killer that kills out of self-defense or even out of the reservoir of pent-up rage.

My best friend in high school had a rather nasty boyfriend who liked drugs and who got most violent when he was high.  I didn’t care much for the dude even when he wasn’t stoned, but I was completely pissed off when I’d gone to her house only to find him chasing her around with a knife.  This was back in the day before cell phones, and the nearest pay phone was about a quarter mile down the road at the Dairy Mart.  For whatever reason I hit the chronometer on my watch and ran like hell to the Dairy Mart to call 911.  It took the cops almost 20 minutes to get there, and the only reason she wasn’t dead was that he had cornered her in the bathroom and she had grabbed a behemoth can of hair spray (this was the late ’80’s after all) and bashed him in the head, putting him through the shower door and knocking him unconscious.  He was out cold when the cops got there. Bastard deserved it- but back then a woman had to press charges to get the cops to do anything, which of course she didn’t do because she was afraid of him.

Today the cops have to take someone in if they are called out and they so much as suspect domestic violence, which sort of makes sense, and then sort of doesn’t.  A poke or a shove or a little mark could all be it takes to send someone to jail for the evening and perhaps longer.   I have to wonder how many people get carted off for simply defending themselves or their kids?

Ohio is Not a Tropical Paradise, (So Put on Some Pants,) the Second Amendment, and Navigational Exploits

For the past five years or so, and most especially for the year or thereabouts following my hysterectomy, I have been somewhat plagued with hot flashes.  At times they have been so severe that I have found myself completely drenched in sweat and burning up for no apparent reason.   Since my Dr.s expressly forbid me to take any kind of hormone replacement, given my history, I have to deal with it.  I’ve been tempted at times to sit in the freezer, I often (even in winter) use a small table fan at night, and it has to be extremely cold for me to even entertain the idea of wearing a sweater or heavy shirt.   Over the past year or so my heat sensitivity has improved somewhat, but even now I am more likely to overheat than to freeze.  The only exception to this is my hands.  My hands still freeze very easily even if the rest of my body is burning up.  Go figure.

Even given the inconvenience of menopausal heat sensitivity, I can’t bring myself to wear shorts outside in the winter.  Every time I see young punks outside in shorts- even the Bermuda type- and/or flip-flops when it’s below freezing, I really have to wonder.  I know damned well the girls are too young for menopause and the boys don’t really have any excuse other than maybe the man-fur on their legs does something as far as insulation, but I doubt it.

Despite the wistful imaginings of the global warming crowd, Ohio is not a tropical paradise.  Maybe for three months out of the year we have near-tropical weather, as in stygian heat, 100% humidity and plenty of rain, but it’s not year-round.   The remainder of the year is still 100% humidity, and plenty of precipitation, but cold, and at times that precipitation is freezing rain or snow.

The lesson in this:  It’s February.  Put on some damned pants.  At least until the end of May, when it might actually be warmer than fifty degrees.  I blame Target for putting the bathing suits out in January.  Just because it’s currently on the store shelf does not mean that it’s the appropriate clothing item for the season.

Some clothing items are never appropriate, regardless of the season. 

Yesterday I was reminded of why I very seldom go on shopping excursions with Jerry.  I hate shopping anyway, and I loathe crowds.  I am surprised I volunteered myself into that one, but he always likes it better if I drive.  It’s always better for him if it’s my car and my gasoline, and me driving, for two reasons.  One, my car gets far better mileage than his truck, and two, I am less likely to get lost.   He refuses to drive my car (good for me in the grand scheme of things, as I really don’t like anyone driving my car) because I have a concealed carry permit.  If the cops would pull him over in my car, they would run the plate and assume that there are weapons in the vehicle.  It is also likely that anyone driving my car would be approached by the cops at gunpoint, which would really freak him out.   I know if I’m pulled over that I’m supposed to put my hands on the wheel and let the cop know whether or not I’m packing, but Jerry has been known to get lippy with cops, which is never a good idea, even if you’re right.  A good friend once told me that there are two good reasons why you won’t overpower, outsmart, or outrun cops: Smith & Wesson and Motorola.  One cop is always going to be armed, and one cop always has that nice little radio to call for backup.  It’s better to comply with their requests and figure out the details later.

I’ve never been a fan of gun control.  I’ve never been a fan of government absolving people from the consequences of their poor decisions either, but what do I know?  If the government seems to think that encouraging stupidity as well as shielding people from the consequences of their own stupidity, have suddenly become civil rights, then I guess it is a good idea (for the law-abiding, rational person) to be armed and to protect oneself even if it is necessary to go through some red tape and hoop jumping.  Thankfully the Framers of the Constitution were a lot smarter than the current crop of jackoffs holding office, and- at least for now- the Second Amendment still stands.  I could go on for days on this particular tangent, but I’m not going to.  Unlike a good number of politicians, I’ve read the Constitution.  I believe I have a pretty solid understanding of it. If you take your time and sift through some of the archaic language, it’s not terribly difficult to understand.  Government has responsibilities, but more importantly it is supposed to have boundaries. 

The weather was quite cold and windy yesterday, but it was sunny for a change,  so I had to deal with both Jerry’s waywardness and unduly crowded stores.  By the time we got home I was thoroughly worn out not so much from walking or driving, but by chasing Jerry about and weaving in and out of crowded aisles and displays.  Jerry is not terribly easy to keep track of, as he is prone to wander off and then I am not only manuevering my way through the crowds but I’m trying to find him as well.  It’s a sort of a twisted three dimensional version of “Where’s Waldo,” only it’s “Where’s Jerry,” and unlike Waldo, he keeps moving.

If I could I would get Jerry one of those kid leashes specifically for shopping excursions or times when I have to take him out in public and I know it will be difficult to retrieve him.  It’s a thought.  Or I could modify one of the Flexi leashes we have for the dogs.