The Beauty of Pragmatism, Power Trippers, and Games I Refuse to Play


Nobody likes change. Even when it’s change for the better, and especially if it short circuits their own personal power trip.

I am conservative by nature, so if I see a need to make a change or to be innovative, most of the time it’s well justified, and to me, at least, a no-brainer.  Unfortunately in life one has to deal with those who are more concerned about getting their own way and controlling others than they are about anything else- including getting things done more efficiently, being profitable, and other such practical things.  Some people only care about getting their own way and trashing other people to build themselves up in their own minds.   It’s even worse when they have a gullible audience in high places.

This is what happened yesterday, and that pretty much made me blow a gasket and go to the zoo for a minute.  I take what I do seriously, and I don’t abide unjustified criticism, especially from a rude young punk, well. There are few things I loathe more than a.) someone nosing about in my business, and b.) demanding that I change a more efficient way of doing things to feed his personal ego and score brownie points.  The worst part of this is that person did get his way (nepotism has its perks) and I just had my status as his personal shit box reinforced.

I can go into a plethora of details on that and how much it pisses me off, but suffice to say the man is probably so pussy whipped at home that I’m the only woman he can safely attack.  I don’t know whether I should have pity on that situation or not.  Right now, I think he deserves what he got- a controlling wife and her Italian family- in spades.  That is not going to be a fun divorce when it happens.  And it will.


I refuse to play the power game.  I know power is addicting and I understand the mindset all too well.  I was a ruthless bitch in business and in life for many years and it took a health crisis and an episode of major depression to get it through my head that power tripping is no way to live, and that manipulating others doesn’t really give me much of the jollies.

The only person who I have to compete with is myself.  It doesn’t harm me when other people do well, but when other people simply tear me down to make themselves look good, (and the powers that be either can’t or won’t see through that game) that pisses me off.   Throwing other people under the bus just because you can is the hallmark of insecurity, and I know it all too well- because in my insecure youth, I used to play that game too.

I don’t expect other people to do everything exactly the same way I do.  It would be awkward for them, just as it is awkward and frustrating for me to accommodate frivolous bullshit to feed some jackwagon’s power trip.  But I don’t make those sorts of demands on others, because they serve no practical purpose.

The more I think about it, the more I am determined not to let the stupidity of others aggravate me any more than is absolutely necessary.


And Einstein once said that insanity is repeating the same things over and over and expecting different results.

I’m not going to let stupidity win out.  Yes, I get pissed and I get despondent, but I also know how easy it is for me to overreact when certain buttons go off.  That’s why before I actually do anything I have to vent, think things through and plan a course of action.  I’m not an impulsive type, after all.

The Art of the Epic Fail, Double Entendre, and Sophomoric Humor That Makes Me Laugh

glory hole

I would like to see this church’s theological statement.  Just wondering.  But it is in the UK.

I’ve gone through a bit of a humor drought as of late and it shows.  It’s always better when I can laugh at things I see.

Over the weekend Steve-o and I, and Mom, and Sophie went to the zoo.  The weather was unusually nice for Ohio in Monsoon season- as in it wasn’t pouring down torrential rain.  The thing about public places, and even attractions like the zoo where the admission price should serve to keep some of the riff-raff out, is that it’s a human freak show out there.  I thought Kroger’s on the first of the month was bad.  The only places I’ve seen worse tats and even worse clothing choices are the Marion Popcorn Festival and/or the Ohio State Fair.  I will be taking pics at both of those events this year.  It’s almost as fun as taking pics of tacky Christmas decorations.


Is there a reason why you want to verify your gender to others via a forehead tattoo?

I had a camera on me, but didn’t really feel cool snapping off pics of the Behemoth Butches with Extra Long Leg Hair while Mom was pointing and wondering out loud, “Which one’s the guy?,” and Steve-o snorts out even louder, “They’re bull-dykes!”  Mom, of course, replies by exclaiming, “That’s disgusting!”  Mom and Steve-o’s conversation back and forth on the human freak show they were observing all around them was funny, if not predictable.

One has to remember that Mom is 1. very Catholic, 2. very conservative, and 3. from a very rural locale.  She has lived a sheltered life. At least when she was growing up, the nuns wore full-body garb that would have covered up their buzz cuts, hairy legs, trucker’s wallets and such.

nuns 1

Even I remember Sister Mary Refrigerator Perry from CCD- she was about 6’5″ and a good 320# at least.

I didn’t take any pics of strange people at the zoo, (should have, because they would have been good) because I prefer taking pictures in stealth, without other people’s (loud and frequent) commentary to draw attention to what I’m doing.  So I have no gratuitous pics of these “girls” with their lovely buzz cuts and their fetching ensembles of XXXL t-shirts, cargo shorts, trucker’s wallets, white socks and Chucks.  Trust me-the world is better off.

Bull-dykes or not, I figure, live and let live.  Their lifestyle choices- including their rights not to shave their legs, and to consume more slop on a daily basis than a pen full of feeder hogs- are none of my business.  But the one chick did have more hair on her legs than Steve-o does on his head, which was a tad bit alarming.  She also outweighed him by about 100#, too, so I’m glad she didn’t hear him.

My granddaughter did enjoy the aquatic life in the aquarium though.


It’s almost disturbing when Steve-o and Mom and Sophie are the only normal people I observed the entire afternoon.  They were so normal that they were abnormal- no tats, no multicolor hair-dos, no mouth piercings, and a child who was dressed appropriately and actually behaved herself most of the time, which is hard to do when you’re 14 months old.

It’s getting really weird to watch people in public places these days.  It’s as if the world has become WalMart, and that couldn’t be a good thing.


This is so sad, but it’s true!!!


Makes me wonder if he was climbing the fence, or if he just had a sadistic older sibling?

When I look at this pic, I thank God I was not born male with the two older sisters I had.  I’d probably been nutted so many times by the age of three that I’d been made a castrato, had I been male and left to the mercy of my sisters’ evil meathooks.

I still got the living hell beat out of me, but at least, being a biological female, I come upon a high soprano vocal range honestly.