Our President Has Balls- for the First Time Since 1989!

ronald_reagan_quoteNot everyone in this country is old enough to remember Ronald Reagan, the Great Communicator.  He was the guy who had the balls to tell Gorbachev (the premier of the then Soviet Union) to “tear down this wall” between the two Berlins.  He was the guy who didn’t back down from American hegemony.  He called the Evil Empire (the USSR) out for what it was on the world stage.  It’s a shame that most of today’s pussy-hat wearing snowflakes have probably never even heard of Ronald Reagan.  Perhaps if they had, they would reconsider the “beauty of socialism” and perhaps even see why the gimme mentality is not really a good thing after all.

trump silent majority

I hesitate on some levels to compare Donald Trump to Ronald Reagan.  Trump doesn’t have the eloquence or the finesse that Reagan had.  Reagan had a gift for making his enemies do what he wanted them to without them really realizing it.  But Reagan and Trump are men of different eras, and their strategies are necessarily different.  Their aims, however, are remarkably similar.

Trump is blunt because this is a blunt world. Trump has some serious damage control to enact. This is a world who got used to seeing America through the eyes of milquetoast Bush 1, then through the scandals of Slick Willie (i.e. 8 years of con-artist and man-slut singing Kumbaya with leaders of terrorist regimes,) then through the bewildered void of the Bush 2 administration, only to (almost) write America off as a third world hole thanks to the Worst Excuse for an American President Ever- Barack Hussein (I love Islamic Terrorism!) Obama.

obamastupidHAD. Thank God.

Trump has to tell it like it is- and act accordingly- if our country is to survive.  I am not even talking hegemony here- but survival.

Standing up to the UN.  That blew my mind- in a good way of course.  Calling Kim Jong Il out as the “Rocket Man” (and making the song of the same name by Elton John stick in my head for a day and a half) was priceless.

I hope it’s not too late.







This Message is Jezebel-Approved, Good News, and So Forth


Jezebel likes it. Whatever it is.

I love black cats, and I especially appreciate Jezebel.  I acquired Miss Jezebel in October of 2012- she was live trapped on the body shop lot when the owner of the shop requested we trap some feral cats for him to transport up to his horse barn.  I told Jerry that the shop owner could have any cats we trapped, but if one happened to be a young, black female kitten that I wanted it.  We trapped several cats- some grey kittens, a couple of adult calicos and so forth, but one night we ended up with the Perfect Cat.  Young (about 7 weeks,)  all black, and female.  The only problem with Jezebel at that time was that she was feral, and fiercely so.

I warned Jerry to handle her with welding gloves…at least until we could get her through a socialization process.  He learned the hard way that kitten baby teeth can still penetrate (and latch on to) the webbing between one’s forefinger and thumb, and that something that weighs less than a pound can inflict a shit ton of damage under the right circumstance.

There is a process for taming feral kittens which is generally effective (this site outlines it well under “Taming Feral Kittens” ) and it took about 2 weeks with Jezebel.  Now it would be hard to tell that she was ever feral as well as she gets along with people, other cats, and dogs.  This is probably only because we got to her very young.   She’s probably the most laid back cat I’ve had with the exception of Miz Izz, may she rest in peace.  Isabel was also a tamed feral, but Isabel was even younger than Jezebel was when we got her.    Older cats usually don’t do too well.


Jezebel is 2 years old and all of 5#.  Almost exactly the same size Isabel was.

Miss Jezebel is not my only cat.  I also have Fanny, who is 17# of big, fat cat.  Fanny was bigger than Jezebel is now by the time Fanny was four months old. It’s strange how the variations work, but Fanny was of what I would call rural barn cat stock, while Isabel and Jezebel were city ferals.  Even the male city ferals around us are nowhere near as large as Fanny.  Perhaps small size has its advantages in the city.


Fanny only looks small in the first pic.  In the second, the freezer gives one a sense of scale.


This is F.B. (Fluffy-Butt) who generally won’t allow pictures.  She’s a sweet cat, but very reclusive.

F.B. is our only normal sized cat.  We inherited her several years ago when we got Heidi, but we really don’t know much about her other than she was spayed and that she was a few years younger than Heidi.  If I had to guess her current age she’s somewhere between 11 and 13.  The first six months or so that we had her she pretty much lived under the basement stairs, but now she is social with the other cats and the dogs.


It’s baaa-ck!

My awesome ride has finally been returned to me, thankfully with a flawless paint match and with everything lined up as it should be.  There was a smattering of body dust on the inside of the decklid from where it had been repaired, but other than that no real reason to split hairs.  I’d almost forgotten how much better the stereo is in the Corolla vs. the truck.  Now I just have to get used to the shift pattern again (traditional Toyota 5 speed vs. the sort-of-screwy VW shift pattern that Toyota uses on the 6 speeds)  and the brakes.  I almost put myself through the windshield a couple of times this morning.  The brakes are a lot more touchy.


Steel Panther- yeah!

Speaking of reasons to crank up the stereo.  I know they’re vulgar, sophomoric, puerile and vile, but I recently discovered an ’80’s hair band knockoff called Steel Panther.  This stuff is positively hilarious.  The video for  “Community Property” . is pretty good as well as is the one  for “Pussywhipped” although I would caution not to watch that one if you are offended by depictions of ball sacks.   I also enjoy the inspirational, “Just Like Tiger Woods.”

It’s a pretty good day.  Especially for being in February.

I Don’t Seek Approval, Party Like It’s 1899, and Things that Don’t Suck

2013I usually don’t succumb to the lure of corny party kitsch, but the light up necklace was cute.

I’ve said before I don’t deal much in the currency of optimism, so I don’t see this year being much of an improvement over last.  In fact, I started today out rather depressed.  Today’s been one of those days where I’m actually trolling for things to cheer me up a bit.  I’m actively fighting against the urge to just concede to the Dark Funk and give up.  I guess the fact that I’m fighting the temptation to just give into hopelessness is either a good sign, or it’s just an unwillingness to face the reality that my life is pretty much hopeless.

The best way to give myself a reality check, I’ve discovered is to make three lists- Things that Suck that I Can’t Change, Things that Suck that I Can Change, and Things that Don’t Suck.

Things that Suck that I Can’t Change:

Obama.  ‘Nuff said.

Personal poverty/ not being financially independent

Being stuck in Ohio, especially in the winter

Health issues* (can mitigate but not eliminate- bad heredity and effects from past diseases/injuries suck)

Jerry – especially when he gets into his “bitch about everything and blame everything on me” mode

Things that Suck that I Can (*theoretically anyway) Change

My own reaction to things that suck

My neglect of friends that I should make an effort to see and communicate with more often

I already turn off the “mainstream” TV news (can’t handle the constant Obama worship) and I already avoid following garbage on TV such as anything Honey Boo Boo or the Kardashians are doing.  Admittedly I probably get into true crime shows (TruTV, Discovery ID, etc.) and the Military Channel way too much.  I should probably cut down on “World’s Dumbest” and “1000 Ways to Die” and get back into reading a lot more than I do now (although I read a lot by any standard) and maybe get into something a bit more uplifting than unsolved murders, people earning their Darwin Awards, and 20th century history.  I mean, how much is left unturned regarding WWII and Adolf Hitler?

Things that Don’t Suck


The dogs and cats

The vacuum cleaner when it gets clogged up with Tipsy McNumbNuts’ cigarette pack cellophanes (the irony of which is that it sucks when the vacuum cleaner doesn’t…)

vacuumThere is no vacuum cleaner made that I don’t have to unclog, tear apart and otherwise rework every time I use the damned thing.

2013 pic

Somehow the deer in the headlights look is a little too typical for me.

Now that I’ve determined that God and the dogs and cats don’t suck, then it should probably follow that I should spend my time in the company of Entities that Don’t Suck as much as I can.

not dead yetSince for now I do appear to be vertical and sucking up valuable oxygen, let’s be creative and try to enjoy it!

I rather enjoy Victorian ephemera- especially patent medicines and other creepy stuff from that era.  I’m surprised anyone survived being treated with the stuff they used as medicine back then, since most of it included either alcohol or opium or various poisons like arsenic, but even today there’s some pretty questionable stuff being used as medicine.

pain killer axe woundImagine the same scenario today, only the rednecks have chainsaws, and the little girl has a bottle of moonshine.

Plus ça change, plus c’est la même chose.

That’s actually one of the few French phrases I remember from high school French class (Why in the hell did I take French?  Did I think I was going to be deported to Quebec?) and it means, “The more things change, the more they stay the same.”  Yes, they do, and not always in a good way.

Mugwump VDI didn’t think Harry Potter had to worry about VD.  Or was that “mugworts?” That sounds like VD anyway.  Something like that.

I’m thinking “Bad Hump” would be a better name for a VD cure-all.  “Take this stuff for last week’s bad hump.”  Or you could just leave it to Dr. Butts:

butts_dispensaryI want to be cured via the US Postal Service.   By Dr. Butts. Yeah.

It’s really kind of scary considering that there really were no cures for VD in Victorian times, and if you got the syph or the clap it could kill you.   Sort of like AIDS today, and heaven only knows whatever other deadly STDs are lurking out there that nobody knows about yet.  Forced chastity might bite in a lot of ways, but I’m old enough to know that 1.) no man is worth a deadly disease, and 2.) there are such things as “meat substitutes” if you get my drift.  The advantage of the “meat substitute” is you don’t have to fix it dinner or unclog its cigarette pack cellophanes from the vacuum cleaner.   I only wish I’d figured that out 20 years ago. Just don’t run out of batteries.


Piles: Old time word for “hemorrhoid” – just an FYI

Why is it that back in the day being German cast some sort of legitimacy upon medical quackery?  And I find it hard to believe that a medical doctor would spend most of his life on a hemorrhoid cure, but then everyone needs a purpose.  I’ve still not figured out exactly why I’m still sucking up valuable oxygen, so I’m the last one to talk.

valium_bigThe 20th century wasn’t much better, but at least you could get a good night’s rest, forget about your hemorrhoids AND forget about your pathetic lack of self-esteem!