Mamamontezz's Mental Rumpus Room

Misha's Over It.

It was after reading the writings of Emperor Misha that the Spousal Unit became a reader of blogs. After reading them for a few weeks, he introduced me to them, and the rest, as they say, is history.

Even after these last two years or so, even as many bloggers have moved on, their politics have changed, and the even the styles and core beliefs of some their blogs have changed, The Anti-Idiotarian Rottweiler has remained constant. Misha, and his merry minions BC, George, and Spats, mince no words, spare no one's "feelings", loudly proclaim their well founded and equally well grounded opinions, and defend them against all comers.

Often times, what I read on that site is so well stated that I can make absolutely no improvement on it. This is one of those cases. As such, and because I believe this is important, not only is there a link to his post, I have also posted it here.

Misha, I could never have said it better, and I stand with you on this. I am sick to death of being disabused for being a Christian, albeit not the best nor the strongest.

I will concede to the rabble that there are people who connect themselves to Christianity, not because of their beliefs, but to legitimize their fundamentally evil beliefs: people like the Klan, who claim justification for their hatred from a perversion of Biblical teachings, and cultists who surround themselves with the spiritually weak for their own personal gratification, and the conspicuous seeking of personal wealth by televangelists.

But to hold them up as the Boogyman, indicative of all Christians, would be like me using Courtney Love as the yardstick by which all women can be measured, or Mike Tyson as the epitome of all black men.

So I leave you now to read Misha's post.

The "Extreme Christian Right" Speaks Out.

...or at least this particular member of it does.

I was certainly happy to see that Sir George attracted the incandescent ire of a poster boy Idiotarian with his little "lynching" post. You know that you're not doing your job well if a day goes by without a screeching, feces-flinging liberal monkey hating your guts. Judge a man by his enemies, I say. I don't want to be "loved" by those ruminating retards. Heck, I don't even want to be "liked" by them. Oderint Dum Metuant, and fear they do.

I just hope that KaKaHead remembers to drag out some pictures from Auschwitz the next time one of his fellow travelers on the Drooling Left starts throwing "Bush=Hitler" comparisons around or refers to him or anybody else on the right as a "Nazi". I know he won't, but it would be nice if the fatuous fucktards to the left would start playing by the rules that they insist everybody else should follow. An Emperor can dream, can't he?

But enough about him.

As a Christian, His Majesty is very much used to the intellectually challenged marginal members of society calling him and his fellow believers "theocrats" and "religious fanatics" everytime we, Heaven forbid, utter the L-rd's name in public or suggest that the Ten Commandments contain some pretty nifty rules to live by.

Barely have we uttered the words before a shitstorm of truly biblical proportions blows forth from the fevered swamps of liberalism, claiming that by the mere mention of Holy Scripture in public we're about to put unbelievers to the sword and burn down their most unholy places, laying the foundations of an extremist theocracy.

But they're the loony left, so what do you expect? They're clinically batshit insane, paranoid schizophrenics to a man, so it's not like anybody's sitting around waiting for a thoughtful dissertation from their unwashed hordes.

Or look at confirmation hearings. We guess that the words about "no religious tests for public office" don't quite mean what they used to mean, because one thing that is sure to get your confirmation held up ad infinitum is if somebody finds out that you're actually *gasp* a practicing Christian. Forget about being a closet pedophile or an axe murderer, if you ever let on that you not only attend church but actually believe in the Bible, you'll be burned at the proverbial stake faster than you can say "Our Father".

But again, that's what we expect from Idiotarians.

What troubles us is when, as was the case during the Schiavo case, even people we normally think very highly of (i.e. everybody who is not a card-carrying, rubber-stamped Idiotarian Class A) start rumbling such nonsense.

Barely had the word gotten out that there were *gasp* Christians among the opponents of starving the handicapped to death when their estranged spouses grow tired of having them around, before the entire anti-starvation "movement", private citizens and public figures alike, was branded as an "extremist Christian right wing movement", hell-bent on throwing the Constitution out and instituting a theocratical dictatorship on par with, if not worse, than the Taliban.

When questioned about the insanity behind those claims, the debate invariable boiled down to "well, it's OK that they're Christians and all, but their policies had better not reflect the fact."

In other words, we are graciously allowed to be Christians, as long as we keep our mouthes shut about it.

To those people I have a heartfelt and perhaps, in their view, un-Christian piece of advice:

Fuck you and the horses you rode in on.

Want it again?

OK, here goes:

Fuck you seventeen ways from Sunday and fuck your dictatorial aspirations. Fuck your anti-Christian bigotry and fuck your complete lack of understanding of the meaning of "faith".

Being a Christian is not something you only switch on at festive occasions and Sunday mornings and otherwise forget about. And I should know, because I wasn't always one. But at least, even in my misguided wandering in the wilderness of my youth, my then atheism didn't make me tell my Christian fellow citizens to shut up about their faith in public. I didn't tell them to be one thing on Sunday and another the rest of the week.

Because, you see, I understood that your faith is part of you, whether your faith is in some higher being(s) or in nothing at all. I understand also that it's pretty hard for somebody who believes in nothing and nobody but themselves to understand this, but that's the way it works.

Let me try to put it in a way that might be more understandable to the militant atheists and agnostics out there. How would you like it if I said "well it's OK for you to be a Conservative, as long as your policy decisions don't reflect that fact"?

Sounds like complete and utter nonsense to you? Good! Now you're beginning to get it.

Is it Scripture you have a problem with? The fact that we Evil Christian Theocrats tend to actually believe in the central tenets of our faith (the horror!)?

Very well then. You Libertarians will kindly refrain from ever once again quoting from anything Ayn Rand ever wrote when making your case for anything in public. I don't want your Aynrandocratic Belief System forced on me in the public square. You can believe in it all you want, but you better not ever be caught quoting it in public, you "dangerous radical extremist" you.

Is it beginning to seep in yet?

Or how about this?:

Is it OK for me to be against murder, even though I'm a Christian and it is said in the Commandments that "thou shalt not murder"? I mean, I am using my faith as a basis for my opinion here, so clearly it's a "dangerous theocratic extremist worldview" that I'm trying to foist on you. I'm against theft, adultery, and bearing false witness as well, but I'll know better than to ever say so in public, since again I'm quoting from Scripture and am therefore clearly trying to "establish a religion".

Of course, if I were an atheist it would be alright, because at least I wouldn't be using the Bible to arrive at my conclusions.

See how ridiculous this gets pretty quickly?

I am what and who I am, and my opinions reflect that. If you have a problem with my opinions, feel free to address those using the substance of my opinion as an argument, NOT where you claim that I got it from. You can't read my mind, and I have to tell you that you look pretty damn Idiotarian when you scrunch up your face and try, so don't even bother.

And as for the tiresome persecution of public officials based only on their Christianity, I advise you to knock it off, right quick.

We Christians have somehow managed to get a reputation for being a "meek and mild flock who always turn the other cheek".

Try opening a history book.

Then let go of that delusion.

For your own sakes.

I feel so special.

I've never been tagged for a meme before, so this is all new to this wise-cracking, bitter, old housewife. Courtesy of Michelle at Meanderings, let's see what I can do with this.

If I could be an Professor, I'd infiltrate some really insanely liberal school, one of those colleges with a high moonbat:normal ratio, dressed like a typical moonbat professor of Post-Columbian Non-Aboriginal Intergender Political Appreciation. I would show up with fuzzy hair, large dangly earings, a braided leather cord around my neck with shards of old flowerpot hanging on it, a pocketed t-shirt with no bra, and a skirt made from about an acre of hand-painted batik gauze.

My classes would be filled with angry women of ambiguous sexuality and neutered men. Any of them with half a lick of sense would fail the course, be booted from school, and encouraged to get a real degree. The rest of the class would be forced to read every book written by Thomas Sowell, the entire Federalist Papers, and watch John Wayne war movies. Their semester final thesis would be a defense of the Fair Tax, the Death Penalty, Secure National Borders, or a detailed analysis of the Dan Rather Memo Scandal.

If I could be a Librarian, the library would have to contain a sizable collection of porn Erotic Literature, hand selected by me and my literary compatriot, Velociman, purely for it's tittilation factor.

If I could be a TV-Chat show host, it would feature Catfish as my co-host, a dunk tank filled with "Home Made Wine" and a band comprised of Farookin Jim, Acidman, Denny, and Neil. Their costumes would be vintage Earth, Wind, and Fire with the asses cut out. If a guest pissed me off, my bouncer, Dog the Bounty Hunter, would pitch them into the dunk tank and the audience would bid for the honor of dunking that guest. All proceeds from the Dunk Tank would go to fund scholarships for military dependents.

If I could be an Athlete, well, the world as we know it will have ended, because this is so far from the realms of both Possibility and Imagination as to transcend Myth.

If I could be a Bonnie Pirate, I'd sail the seas with El Capitan and ZiPpo on a yacht we "liberated" from the Kennedy Compound in Taxechussetts. We'd carouse in Costa Rica, peruse the pickings in Puerto Rico, dominate the Dominican Republic, Hell-raise in Haiti, and molest the Virgin Islands. Our holds would be filled with black rum, 25yr old single malt, and Cohibas. The deckhands would all be either tall, dark, and handsome, or comely lasses in great variety (for El Capitan and ZiPpo, or course), all selected for their Special Talents.

Now, time to extend this merriment on to some other deserving blogger. Ah, who in my vile wickedness do I select?

Delftsman, as my Spousal Unit, consider yourself Tagged. And in your company, I also tag Jeremy of American Warmonger because he's such a damned stud, and my Blogson/Nephew Slaglerock because he's a damned stud too. (see a pattern here?)

Now, for you Tagged Folkses, read on below for the list of "If I" possibilities. Pick at least five, and have fun. Then pick your own victims.

Here's the list:

If I could be a scientist…
If I could be a farmer…
If I could be a musician…
If I could be a doctor…
If I could be a painter…
If I could be a gardener…
If I could be a missionary…
If I could be a chef…
If I could be an architect…
If I could be a linguist…
If I could be a psychologist…
If I could be a librarian…
If I could be an athlete…
If I could be a lawyer…
If I could be an innkeeper…
If I could be a professor…
If I could be a writer…
If I could be a backup dancer…
If I could be a llama-rider…
If I could be a bonnie pirate…
If I could be a midget stripper…
If I could be a proctologist…
If I could be a TV-Chat show host…
If I could be an actor…
If I could be a judge…

A little good news.

Well, I, for one, am glad.

And I like it when I dance in the rain and my hair gets wet. I'd dance with you anytime, Rob.

Bonnie Sue's Demise

There once was a cow named Bonnie Sue,
Who tripped in a hole and became a stew.
So tender was her meat,
They even ate her feet.

Good Master decried her awful break,
then settled right in to enjoy a steak.
He prayed she'd found relief,
then calmly picked his teeth.

Poor Mistress, collapsed upon the stoop,
was quickly revived by the beefy soup.
She prayed for Bonnie's soul,
Then had another bowl.

Old Reverend was quick to make a call
As soon as he heard about Bonnie's fall.
"She's in great heaven's host.
Please pass a bit of roast."

The cowherd's whole day was filled with strife
'Til dinner when sadly he took his knife.
He carved a juicy slice,
And ate it in a trice.

Sweet milkmaid, she sobbed at Bonnie's fate
While sopping the gravy upon her plate,
She moaned a little moan,
then tossed a knuckle bone.

Their children all wailed and loudly cried
The day that the tanner took Bonnie's hide,
But how could they refuse
New, shiny pairs of shoes?

Then just as sure as Mistress was born,
The prettiest buttons of polished horn
She stitched upon the breast
Of Master's favorite vest.

The kittens and cats, when news got round,
Cried out with a terrible yowling sound,
And pitched an awful gripe,
Then settled down to tripe.

Poor Bonnie Sue never stood a chance
The moment she faltered at Nature's dance.
For such a lowly beast,
She surely was a feast.

____________________________________

Okay, so it's a silly little rhyme, a trifle, a bit of fluff. Sometimes, that's exactly what is necessary to get one's mind off more serious matters and infuse a little lighthearted fun into an otherwise busy, full-moon Monday.

She Lives! She Lives!

Yes, Kelley, the rumors of your demise were blessfully quashed when I wandered over to Technorati and found your link! I was delighted! I so missed your quick, direct, and often "Slice and Dice" style, not to mention the Spidey updates.

*sad sigh* Wish I could have been there at the blogfest, too, Pretty Lady. Would have been great to see you and all of the gang again. Maybe next fall, but please try to convince our Sadistic Tour Directors and Cultural Advisors to find a place a little less expensive than Helen... Personally, I'd love to see Savannah, and a blogfest would be just the ticket.

Anyway, welcome back, Mistress Kelley. Missed you.

Thing of Beauty

I received a package in the mail on Friday from my dear, sweet friend, Catfish. I had been expecting it, as he had told me he had collected seashells from the beach at Jekyl Island for my daughter.

True to his word, there were beautiful shells in this box. A flat scallop shell, a beautiful clam shell, a small welk and a smooth sea snail shell. Even a fragile group of dainty barnicle was in this box, wrapped securely in white paper.

Every little piece of beauty had come from his morning walk in the sand, coaxed from their chilly, damp hiding places by his toes.

And then, slid in along one side of the box I found a small box for me. In this small box, a little treasure rested.

It's so nice to be thought of by such a good person. I wish I could repay all the good feelings I've experienced since that very first email many months ago.

Thank you, Sugar. It is truly beautiful.

It's Free Press!

Ah, Doggerel Pundit as done it again!

Yes, yes, yes, we all have heard the wails and moans of the Legitimate Press as they discuss the issue of bloggers. Yes, we have all heard their protestations over the practice of merely linking and the absence of Real Investigative Reporting by these annointed guardians of news.

So I ask you, when was the last time you picked up a newspaper of any sort, in any city or town or little burg? Notice anything interesting about almost every article in that pulpy relic? If you look, really look, almost every one of these items is just a reprint (read that "Link") of something from either another newspaper or a news service.

Go. Read. Enjoy Doggerel Pundit's observations on this.

Rottweiler Pope

It is my sincerest hope that the new pope, Benedict the 16th, will not only show his teeth but will use them. It is time that Rome came down hard on the enablers and apologists in the Chuch in this country and cleaned house with some much needed defrockings.

The scandals that the Church has both endured and tried to cover-up have hurt not just the almighty collection basket, but has wounded each and every Catholic in this country.

It is not enough to forigive the sins and comfort the victims. It is time to actively participate in the prosecutions of all priests and educators who prey on the children in their parishes and schools. Defrock, excommunicate, and prosecute all of them. From the arch bishops who moved them from parish to parish, to the criminals themselves, be rid of them.

Do it now.

Prickly Heat?

Oh, for goodness' sake, such an almighty tempest in a half-cracked teapot. Now I know what Rob/Acidman goes through every time he doesn't stroke the right ego the right way, or says something his non-readers don't like.

Well, as long as the gawkers continue to drive by to see the vile and evil woman harpy who would malign such fragile flowers of refined southern womanhood, just remember to wipe your feet on the way in and don't feed the rats.

Then go read some true Divas.

Michelle Malkin has a great post on the repeal of the Estate Tax.

LaShawn Barber posts an interesting item on Liberal talk radio and the MSN in general.

Elizabeth makes some observations on the anniversary of the OKC terror.

The weapon: Sex.

Okay, so I'm slow on the uptake sometimes and have to let something simmer for a while before writing. I read the original post on this topic at Acidman's way back in March, and have mulled over his premise in my mind quite a bit over the last several days. After much soul searching and deliberation I have to conclude he is absolutely right.

Yes, I as a woman have used sex as a weapon. I like to believe that unlike some self-serving and controlling women I never used this weapon for evil or to harm any one. I have used it in self-defense on a few occaisions, but have never drawn first. Even then, it happened very rarely and only as a last resort.

Part of this comes from the fact that I tend to see sex more like men do, and less like the majority of women. Sex is recreational, an exercise, an intimate dance, a way of giving pleasure and getting pleasure in return. It's better between friends and almost heaven if that good friend is also your lover, but my genitals are not superglued to my heart. If you want to know what enflames my heart, it isn't the organs betwixt my thighs as much as it is the one between a man's ears.

So yes, I've used sex as a weapon. I used it to convince my husband to take his medication so he wouldn't die back when he was seriously ill and just out of the hospital. I used it to convince him to go to the doctor when his angina was so bad I thought our next nocturnal romp would kill him.

But I have found something interesting about the male during my ponderings. While women do use sex as a weapon, a lot of men use emotion as a weapon in much the same manner. Now, Rob has stated in a post that he never said "I love you" or any variation of that sentiment to get access to a woman's sex, but he is the exception that proves the rule.

There are a lot of bums and cads walking around who would not think twice about it if it meant they would get the sexual gratification they wanted. Done that too, and I admit it freely. Back when I was a newly-outed non-virgin who wanted sex as often as possible, I would cultivate friendships that I knew would lead to sex if I played it right, stroked the right chord, played up the right emotion. And the sad thing about it was, even at their own game, men were easy pickings.

I guess you could say in my past that I was able to play both sides of that fence.

Origin of Soul

Dana at Origin of Soul is one of the nicest, most genuine and honest writers I've encountered since blogging. And to top that off, if she thinks you're in trouble or hurt or laying in a ditch somewhere, she'll ride at the head of the search party.

Whenever I've needed a kind word, she was there. When I was having a crisis of indecision, she offered advice. And gently unassuming as she is, she probably doesn't even remember doing it.

If she is not in your blogroll, you might want to think seriously about it.

*Fizzle*

Ah, and now we see the first volley has been fired and has crossed the bow, falling harmlessly into deep seas. El Capitan's lessons in nautical warfare seem to have come in useful, as were the lessons in pillage from the Privateer ZiPpo.

No, I haven't read the post which tracked back to my Prima Donna Diva post. I simply do not have the time or the inclination to be sucked into some female, cliquish, Junior High abyss of bickering and complaining, especially after having heard a sampling of the behavior exhibited at the Georgia Writers Workshop, or rather the Wreckyl in Jekyl. When I desire the strife of a soap opera, I need merely turn on the television.

My suggestion? Don't even bother to follow it back. Actually you won't be able to follow it back, as I've decided to remove it. Why reward them with traffic when I doubt seriously it is worth your efforts? If they prove to be as predictable as I imagine they will be, this is merely the first of at least four volleys. Wait until a good one.

Update: Well, all parties who believe they are involved have now made their indignation known. That didn't take long.

Divas? Seriously?

Ah, those who imagine themselves divine, the Divas of any group or endeavor, aren't they entertaining?

Seems there are a lot of "self-proclaimed" Divas out in the 'Sphere these days, a silly little echo chamber of femaleness. I had read about them at Acidman, discussed them with Catfish, and finally got curious enough to go see what all the fuss was about. Interestingly, you cannot Google "Blog Divas" and find a single one of them. I had to trot over to Zonker's and find the links.

I don't know what exactly I was expecting, but it certainly wasn't what I found. I expected something on the line of the truly divine. I expected something like I find at Connie du Toit's, or the Infidel with blue eyes. I hoped for writing on a par with the truly divine Ms. Malkin or the essential Ms. Barber. These women are truly Divas of the blogosphere, proclaimed such by their readers and never bestowing such a title on themselves or each other.

But was that what I found?

If it had been, they would be in my links.

And no, I am not a Diva by any stretch of the imagination. I enjoy what I do, try to do the best that I can as I do it, and if I get a handful of readers who enjoy either what I am saying or how I say it, well, that's my reward. To proclaim myself a Diva based on the fact that I am a Woman is ridiculous and not something I would ever think of, much less do.

I have worked with true Divas, and with those who imagine themselves as such. I recognize the difference between those who's talents are so rich and so deep that they truly are Divas, and those who wish to be.

Personally, I'd rather be known as "that crazy broad who can write" than a Diva.

*Heavy Sigh*

Well, the Georgia Writers Workshop, aka "The Wrekyl in Jekyl" begins tomorrow and folks are busily preparing to dash off to the cozy resort of Jekyl Island, GA. Acidman, Velocigod, Catfish, the Adorable Zonker, and many, many more will be there.

I, however, will not. *sigh*

Yes, the constraints of work and the gods of responsibility wielded their mighty powers and conspired against me this weekend, so I will instead be trudging off to work Friday, Saturday, and Sunday to eek a meager living and support my little family.

All in all, I'd rather be walking the beach, feeling the sea and sand swirling and sucking between my chubby and pearl-red nailed toes. I'd much rather be shopping the little shops in the company of Catfish, stopping for a moment for a coffee or a diet coke where we could watch the people busily being tourists.

And at night? V-man's infamous "Punch" and Catfish's "home-made wine" and spirited conversation and hyjinks would certainly fit the bill. I'm sure Acidman will end up with bright red toenails again (I'd be disappointed if he didn't), and guitars will be pulled from their cases and coaxed into accompaniment for the laughter and boisterous story telling.

I hope all of you Georgia Bloggers have a great time. Don't forget your Token Hoosier. I sure wish I could have worked the schedule and been there. Raise a glass (or mason jar) for me, and you all kiss Catfish for me. Well, everyone of the female persuasion, anyway. Especially the pretty ones.

Have fun. Wish I were there.

Animals, all of them.

Jack sent me a link this evening that was very disturbing, one that made me pause before writing. He was too angry to write on it. I am angry as well, but I feel the need to get this out.

We all understand the predator. Jackels, hyenas, the felines, all are predators who take other animals as food. Some do so quickly and relatively humanely, while others do so in cruel and vicious ways, eviscerating their prey even as it bleats or cries out.

And although we look at some of these predators as brave, efficient, or proud, when you get down to reality, they are nothing more or less than opportunistic. You never see a masterful male lion facing down the largest wildebeast. You never witness on some Discovery or National Geographic program a single hyena showing stealth and courage against the alpha bull in a herd of cape buffalo. What you do see is a systematic taking of some herd member who is too old, too weak, or too young and inexperienced to stay within the herd. What we watch are predators taking those animals who either cannot stay with their herd or that have been expelled by the herd because of some weakness.

It is the same with any predator. Any weakness is exploited, the prey is separated from it's safety, and it is taken by claw and fang, devoured and left for scavengers to pick at for any shred that is left.

Ah, we look at this from our living rooms and say to ourselves "how good it is that we have evolved, that we no longer live by such natural law." We see this battle for life and we believe that our humanity places us safely above it. To this, I say we are fools if we believe it.

A young girl, a 16 year old girl with a disability, was seen as weak by a pack of predators at her high school and was taken by these predators. They cruelly took her, physically assaulted her, then forced her to perform oral sex on at least two of them while the others in this small pack stood by and one even went so far as to video tape the acts. And just like on some documentary or some educational film, the rest of the herd stood back and watched.

Then, to make matters worse, the school's assistant principal, one of the persons charged by the school board to run the school and to keep it safe for all of the students in attendence, told the father of this young girl not to call 911 and report the attacks. She and her school's reputations were of greater concern to her than letting the police deal with a pack of rogue animals.

Before anyone starts name calling in comments about my use of the word "animals" to describe these vicious, two-legged predators, let me point you to the article again. I have no idea what sort of neighborhood this school is in, or what the ethnic, social, economic, racial, or religious makeup of the school is, much less of the sleezy, ruthless punks who perpetrated such acts against a 16 year old girl. Nor do I care. I don't give two wits about their family lives, their academic records, their membership on any sports team, or what kind of music they listen to. Anyone who would commit an act, no, a series of acts like this on anyone, male or female, is nothing but an animal and should be treated exactly like any unpredictable rogue animal.

So far, they are suspended from school. This is hardly enough. An assault of this nature does not warrant an investigation by the school board and some window dressing meeting to hear all of the sides of the story. These punks video taped the assault and should have been immediately expelled AND handed over to the police. The community needs to demand that the prosecutors file adult charges against these criminals if at all possible, and do whatever it takes to get all of them convicted. No half-assed plea bargain should be acceptable to this girl, to her father, or to the community in which this occurred.

And the prinicipal and assistant who wanted to protect the school instead of calling the police? Well, neither of them are at that school any longer, and much the better. But are there any charges that can be filed against them for their attempts to aid and abet these animals? If not, there certainly should be. They was in positions of trust and they broke that trust irrepairably.

A pack of wild dogs, a weak victim, and a principal who sought not to protect the flock entrusted to her but to protect the curs. Sickening.

Update: This just gets worse. According to a news story today, not only did the principal not call the police, she never called the father. It was not until a teacher called him and told him to take her for medical attention did he have any idea anything had happened.

And according to Glenn Beck's radio show this morning, the "witnesses" didn't just happen to be there, but were called to watch and actually cheered on the animals as they assaulted the girl. Students ran down the halls to get there to watch, and there were teachers aware of the situation as it was happening who chose to do nothing to stop it.

Seems the inmates were running that asylum. Police are in posession of the video tape yet no charges have been filed by the prosecutors. I have a real problem with that. A major problem. This is a no-brainer, people. This does not take almost a week to sort out. And yes, as hoosierboy said in comments, this IS a hate crime. They obviously targeted a disabled girl. Where are the activists? Where is the ACLU? Where are the feminists?

Probably representing the animals, if we only knew.

Disappointment.

It was gray out, soft rain on the windshield. I left home early and drove to meet my friend for lunch and conversation, and the drive was good. Anticipation made the road seem smooth and the traffic bearable.

Stopped at the bank, drove to our place and parked. Haven't seen my friend in a long time, and looked forward to bright eyes and animated conversation.

An hour later, I drove home. Disappointment, traffic, potholes, and a miserably sad song on the radio conspired to make the drive miserable. Coffee and cigarettes at my computer desk for lunch instead of company and misty rain and dim gray skies, the kind of sky that wraps around a person like a crysalis.

Perhaps later in the week. I dearly hope so.

Slippery Slope

Since money’s tight and times are dire
With health costs mounting ever higher,
Care givers find one way to cope:
Push Gramma down the slippery slope.

So she is well with no diseases
That would take her home to Jesus.
Tell all the world there is no hope
And push her down the slippery slope.

Just put her in a friendly hospice
And hope her family doesn’t notice.
Pull out her tubes and up the dope
Then push her down the slippery slope.

Although most people will decry it,
There is a judge who won’t deny it.
Who cares if it’s outside his scope?
He’ll push her down the slippery slope.

Her Living Will should be no issue,
It’s worthless as a soggy tissue!
You’ll never have to fear the rope
So push her down the slippery slope.

You’ll think one day, perhaps your last one,
With Gramma you pulled off a fast one.
Think you’re safe? I daresay “Nope!”
It’s you who’s on the slippery slope!

In case you don't know what this is about, I suggest you make a quick round of the 'sphere. The Commissar has thoughts, as does the Emperor

Haiku

Locked in refuge,
hidden from the outside world,
dark freedom beckons.

Lips gape in pleasures
moist, deep and darkly profound.
Day of submission.

Eyelids aflutter,
blinking back Ecstacy's tears,
lost in the moment.

Ego overcome,
passion overtakes the soul
and inflames the flesh.

Breasts pressed onto sheets
in temporary abode
face hidden in hair.

Firm hands grasping hips
naked, white, raised, accepting.
Begging for release.

Pleasure warmly floods
from wells unsought, neglected.
Refreshed, free flowing.

Week at a Glance...

As we end this Sunday and prepare for the week to come, let us all take a moment and reflect on the events we have all witnessed.

To start, we saw the vicious struggle for the life of a profoundly disabled woman finally come to an end. Her death sets a precedent which could tragically be with us for decades and potentially impact the lives of other profoundly disabled men, women and children in this country. No one should have to live in fear of being "allowed to die" because of their inability to communicate or their perceived quality of life. Sadly, the seed of that fear has now taken root in a great many innocent hearts.

We also lost the spiritual leader and faithful father of over a billion people with the death of Pope John Paul II. More than any other modern pope before him, he appealed to those of other faiths and to members of his own faith to embrace each others as sons and daughters of one God, all fashioned by the hand of God and imbued with life by His breath. He asked us all to live as Christ asked, to love each other as brothers and to live with grace. If you do not know how that is done, look no further than the life of John Paul II.

In Iraq this week, in the face of a decrease in the number of coalition deaths and a decrease in organized acts by what the media so fondly refers to as "The Insurgency," a group of terrorists organized and launched an attack against the prison as Abu Gharab. At least 20 Marines were wounded, as well as several prisoners, by the shrapnel from rockets or grenades launched into the compound. This appears to have been an act of desperation by a dying cause, an unsuccessful attempt to replenish their own numbers through the liberaton of several of their own from coalition custody. The wounded dog is trapped in the corner and howling for its pack.

Take a few minutes this evening before you go to bed, or tomorrow when you wake up for school or work, and meditate on this week. Pray for the healing, be it physical, emotional and spiritual, that we need at this time.

Texas Blogfest Photos!

Yes, yes, yes, I know. Procrastination is my middle name but I finally did download the photos from my trusty cam. Took me long enough, but I did it.

Such a group! This was the gang who went to BillyBob's in Ft. Worth on Saturday night. Talk about an amazing place. I don't think I saw but an eighth of it, and would love to go back and see it all.

Such men they have in Texas! An Emperor AND a King and Tyrant at the same table! Can you see why I didn't want to come back to Indiana? A woman would have to be nuts not to like it down there.

There was even a pirate. Don't that beat all? Arrrrgghh, ZiPpo! You certainly shivered my timbers, Cap'n.

Yes, cuteness abounds in Texas. Even the "Starter Men" are cute as the dickens.

Wait! Who is this? Reflected in the background of a larger picture of the "Starter Man" we find this? Could it be? Is that a Cheesehead? Why, I do believe it is!

And this followed me home... Actually, he dragged me back, kicking and screaming if you want the honest truth. *sigh*

Well, I'm keeping my schedule open, in case I get to participate in the next one. A great time was had by all, and the next one should be even better.

See what you all missed by not attending?

The End of an Era.

Pope John Paul II has passed from this earth. Now begins the process of selecting the next leader of the Catholic church.

Regardless of your opinions of church doctrine or politics, you have to admit that were it not for his involvement with the Solidarity Movement in Poland before the fall of the Soviet Union, Poland would have remained firmly entrenched in communism for longer than it did.

He was an instrumental part of the fall of the Soviet Union, and was more conservative than predecessor, Pope Paul, who lead the church during the 60's and 70's.

He is gone. God rest his soul. May God watch over the College of Cardinals and guide them to select a worthy successor to the throne of St. Peter.