Mamamontezz's Mental Rumpus Room

The Gift

As I emerged from the bathroom to prepare for work, Chris came through the kitchen with a small, cardboard box in his hand and a an excited smile on his face.

"It's here!"

"Oh! Open it!"

He pulled the end of the box open and peered inside. His smile widened when he saw all the little bits of wrapped affection, and he looked at me and smiled so very happily.

"I wonder who's is who's...", he said quietly, scanning about the interior from the open end.

"We'll know." And with that, the first items were pulled from its cramped interior.

A box of Sees chocolates bearing my name, and a duplicate wrapped in blue for Anna. I smiled widely and felt warm at the thought that little Anna had been included. She will be so pleased to have gotten a gift.

Two CDs, one each labeled for Chris and I. Within moments I had it in the drive to protect it and to be ready to load it into my drives and enjoy it as soon as I return from work tonight. I mused its mysteries as I set it into the tray of the drive and wished I could have listened to it then and there.

A small packet of pink tissue proclaimed itself to be mine, and it weighed heavy and warm in my hand, warm merely from the sun outside yet also as warm as though it had come directly from your sweet hand.

I looked up to see Chris looking at the bag of candy Legos, and laughed at his reaction, one of curious surprise and amused pleasure. I giggled at his response, and he chuckled and smiled broadly in return.

I looked at the pink papered secret in my hand and daintily opened it. It tingled and chimed softly, and a strand of silver bells slipped, serpentine, into the palm of my hand. I palmed the pink tissue with its remaining item, and held the ends of the strand between the fingertips of both hands, feeling it, deceptively heavy for such a delicate look, and hearing it, gently tinkling as it's myriad of small bells.

A quick whoop interrupted my intimate reverie, and I looked up to see Chris pulling a heavy black dragon from the confines of a black plastic bag. He wasted no time encircling his neck with its stout chain, and kept repeating the same almost unintelligible phrase of pleasure over and over.

I now looked down at the item still tucked into it's fragile wrap and quietly slipped it out into my hand. Weighty, so very warm, it settled solidly into the palm of my hand. Hand, blessing, eye of protection and warding, roses of Sharon, prayer on the back, ancient symbols... once, long ago, I had worn this same symbol. It was a feeling of familiar strength, and it set so warm in my palm that if I had closed my eyes it would have been your hand there in its place.

Chris now held up the shiny white box that remained and rattled it.

"What's this?" As though I knew.

"Well, open it."

Matches lined up head to head in casual ranks within the traylike box, and Chris delighted at them before dashing off to his bedroom to peer in the mirror at the dragon newly landed about his neck.

I gathered up the tinkling delight and took it with me to the bathroom. My first thought was that I would have to wear it around a wrist as that was where most anklets ended up, so I slipped it over my arm and caught it underneath, hook and loop. When I lowered my arm, it almost slipped off. So tentatively raised my naked foot to the edge of the white tub and slowly wrapped the shiny delicacy around it...

I smiled a great smile and even a small giggle broke through as I looked at the jingly circlet that fit, albeit with little extra room, around my ankle. It sang a hundred tiny songs as I walked across the bedroom, and I was loath to remove it for work...

So now I sit here at my desk with a secret smile and your beautiful gift, silent and obvious only to me, held securely within the confines of a sock under the leg of my slacks.

And in my mind's eye I imagine you padding about your bedroom to the soft tinkling songs of it's mate.

And we both thank you so very much for being thought of so.

fera's moment.

Sometimes in the midst of calamity and tragedy we find voices that tell us more than we want to know, yet what we need to know. Today, in a post on a group of which I am a member, this was posted by a woman known in the group as fera. It is powerful, stirring, a stream of consciousness monologue that touched me greatly as I struggled to comprehend the feelings that poured out from it. So powerful, in fact, that I approached her and asked her permission to post it here exactly as written.

Yes, it's difficult to read. Imagine yourself in such a situation, suffering from lack of sleep and battered by what you've seen and heard and experienced. Put yourself in her mind and heart as she sat at the computer during what had to be a rare moment to herself, trying to chronicle her last few days.

we got power back to the hospital last night so i get to see my first real pictures the ones you all are seeing to see what eyes you are seeing us through its sad that what you get to see is all the bad thats going on its heartbreaking that it is but times are so hard for so many the poorest of the area mostly stayed and like wild animals so fight for their lives and like animals some distroy for no reason seems the fact that you should thank whom ever you wish that you live and try to change to something better i dont know how to feel .. we all were lucky it made a small turn to the east and as my heart goes out to them im glad we didnt get hit worse i have family/ friends we cant find both here and in Mississippi some foolishly chose to stay thinking they were high enough thinking that like so many other times we would somehow be passed over once again some neglecting to think that the place had changed so much sence the last " bad one " that concrete covered more and new groups of housing were built over the flood planes . some choose to stay with family to sick to make the trip out and wishing that if it ends it would be in their own home . i cant say if it was my mom i wouldnot have done that same thing some whos job dictated they stay to help see not all those who are there are animals but they dont show that they dont do the huge stories about the Drs nurses and others who are passing out from heat and dehydration who start ivs on each other so they can help one more person to save one more life .. the cops and firemen who are right there who kissed their familys bye knowing they could die to just stay and help .... where are the stories of the transportation companies that had things in place but their equipment is gone because the storm turned to much to the east how they are trying to get new suplies in there but now have to start organing from stratch again teaming up together to help Southern LA not just New Orleans, Mississippi , Alabama and Southern Florida i sit comfitable for a few hours then go back to wait for lights and a life i had untill a few days ago blesses at what i have im better off than so many. i try to help out where i can. doing what i can with what we have. ive lost patient after patient because of the conditions here we got in another 16 bodies in the last hours my hospital is on lock down because supplies are so low. every patient we have cant breath or has bleeding uncontroled, chest pain, high fever . My Doctors dont leave sleeping when they can covering for each other. other Drs are seting up their offices as make shift walk in clinics to try and help till what meds they have are gone i watched nurses Drs tecs lab xray resp security admit clerks work in sweltering conditions in the same thing day after day or in shorts and tees because its all they had some working 16 hours many on days they didnt have to be here. the schools that opened up their freazers and told the hospitals here take whatever you can use the drug reps that bring in what supplies they have and food for those who are working where are those stories the ones that show the poor guy from across the state or country who is working like a dog trying to get wire after wire fixed so we could have power to do our job and to get as much each day done . the ones who have been told they have lost a sister or loved one or everything they own and cant take the time to stop because they are needed. or the 10 year old who is running around from room to room with ice,water and wet rags from room to room and patient and nurses. the story of the heartbreak of looking at some one and telling them im sorry i cant help you right now you need to try to get someplace else knowing what that could mean . and why do all this two reasons one its what we do two have you ever seen the look in someones eyes that lost everything or feels they have and you give them water or something to eat or help them to make it another day i dont know im rambaling because i have a min to think ( sometimes triage is a good thing esp when your not the guy at the door saying ok you can come in) sorry had to tell what they werent see its not all bad here

When I asked her permission, she asked that I include this as well:

hun if you would like to pass on my post feel free but i need to clarafy something although we did get alotof damage from the storm here i am about 30-45 miles north west of New Orleans and all though things werent nice here they are 100 times worse there i am so touched by everyone who worried about me and mine but i am ok things could have been much worse if the storm had not moved alittle to the right. i dont post about here for any other reason but to get it out alittle i feel so cut off at times and just try to make it a little better i had several friends that work or worked in the hospitals in New Orleans some have gotten out some havent i cant post their stories here i wouldnt its just to bad and the things they saw and went through even i cant fathom from what i have seen in pictures on the net or that they brought back on phones or whatever these people stayed knowing what could happen and did it because thats the kind of people they are. i dont belittle the things i am doing not to say its alot but what the Drs, nurses, firefighters, cops,city workers and all those who stayed not because they couldnt leave but to care for those who didnt ,did and are still doing leaves me without words ..... fera

Please do what you can, Salvation Army, your local church or other spiritual congregation, an organized effort at your job, anything.

Munuviana Attacked

In an unprecedented move in the wake of serious attacks on Tuesday, the tiny nation of Munuvia has sealed its borders and begun plans for “The Wall,” a barricade similar to one already being constructed in Israel.

Prime Minister Pixy Misa made the announcement today from an undisclosed location in Outer Mongolia where he had been vacationing with cabinet members and their families.

“The persons responsible for these attacks are cowards of the worst order,” stated the PM. The use of illegal Spam-bomb technology, the timing of the most recent attack, the pattern of attack, each of these leads us to believe that these attacks are not the work of disgruntled individuals or insurgents organized by Blogsnotistanian, but are well funded and well orchestrated attacks by organized mercenary Spammers.”

Casualties were heavy on Tuesday when the latest attack occurred. Hospitals in the capitol city of Ambia filled quickly, as the wounded were moved in from the outlying regions of Munuviana and Ellis Island.

“I don’t believe any were killed in the most recent attack, but there is not a single citizen untouched by the events of the last several weeks,” observed Misa. “They have found their families under attack, their businesses cut off from traffic, and their constitutionally protected rights violated by these terrorists.”

These attacks have caused residents to demand work be sped up on the wall, known in adminstrative circles as Project Firewall. In spite of the obvious benefits provided by such a barrier, however, there have been some problems getting it built.

"The project to construct a wall between the more vulnerable regions of Munuvia and known Spammer hangouts has been in the works for years," stated an undentified bar owner and IT guru involved in Operation Firewall. "But in spite of the safety it would afford our small nation, UN officials and Amnesty International have already denounced it and are calling for a tribunal of nations spearheaded by Nigeria to study it. Can you believe that? Nigeria, of all places. Spamming is the greatest part of their GNP."

"Next thing you know," added a patron seated at the bar, "we'll be forced to give these terrorists land for a homeland within our own borders. And we know how well that works. Look at Gaza."

The Cotillion, a think tank of conservative women with offices located in the green zone in central Munuvia City, suffered extensive damage during the attack on Tuesday, but was able to rebound quickly. Workers from several private US and Pan Pacific defense contractors were onsite within hours, securing the perimeter and providing a much needed visual respite for the women in the facility.

“We were not terribly concerned about being overrun during this wave of attacks,” stated Cotillian spokesman e-clair, blogger with a penchant for witty remarks at the end of each group post. “We’re well armed, both literally and metaphorically. And unlike other think tanks, we actually are able to defend our statements. That one fact seems to attract the sort of situation we saw here in Munuvia on Tuesday. We hate to think that it was our recent move to this lovely country that precipitated these attacks, but it certainly would appear to have been a factor.”

Affected Munuvians spent the night in temporary shelters, anxiously awaiting the end of the attack and the return of service to their stricken nation. Members of the USAir Force Security Force, under the watchful eye of Slaglerock, provided security for both the shelters and the affected sites.

Working with local law enforcement, Slaglerock’s contingent also kept the local morale up by providing a temporary beach volleyball court and several teams for pairs play with residents, who were appreciative of the vast improvement in scenery.

“There’s just something to be said for the men providing security here,” commented Anika, a longtime resident of Munuvia. “They work hard, they apparently play hard, and they look great doing it. And just because the women of Munuvia are intelligent and discerning doesn’t mean we don’t appreciate the human form.”

Breaking News

Helen Thomas was not put on suicide watch today after threatening to kill herself if current Vice President Dick Cheny were to run for President in the 2008 election.

In a statement to The Hill, Ms. Thomas stated, "The day I say Dick Cheney is going to run for president, I'll kill myself. All we need is one more liar." This only brought to light her current efforts to restrict the number of new liars on the Capitol Hill, and to further consolidate her own standing in the District of Columbia Ring of Active Prevaricators (D'CRAP).

When asked for comment, Vice President Cheney was unable to express the humor he found in the situation, although he did manage to say that "now [he] understand[s] that phone call Lynne made to Dick Morris earlier today. Not to mention that mysterious voice mail from the White House printer about the single Yard Sign she had called about."

"Yes," Cheny went on to say, "Lynne is quite the kidder."

In a related story, one bystander was killed, and several mental health workers and an ambulance team were hospitalized this afternoon after a failed suicide intervention on Ms. Thomas.

"It was awful, like something from Jason and the Argonauts," claimed EMS worker Bartholomew Sandusky of Georgetown. "We thought we had her convinced that it was for her own good when suddenlly she turned on us. She pulled off that wig and there were vipers and... We didn't think we'd make it out alive."

"That poor guy outside her office never saw it coming," Sandusky continued. "She blew out of that office and straight at him, and there was just no way he could look away. It was awful. Just awful. I don't think I'll ever forget the sounds of his screams."

The bystander, who's identity has not been released at the family's request, was released to the National Museum and will be part of a future exhibit of modern marble sculptures. A museum spokesperson could not be reached for comment.

Stress can have it's positive aspects.

In the midst of chaos and dread and fear and self-doubt, sometimes good things happen. It can happen with amazing subtlty, or it can strike like a lead pipe to the back of the head complete with stars and delerium.

And the things that can happen. Oh, the wonderous things! And the people. People who give support and help and love... who open their hearts and carry the load for long enough to let your own heart sing, if even briefly, and to heal.

Since the my week of happiness and acceptance in March at the Texas Blogfest, I have endured financial hardship, the loss of my cars, and blessings beyond compare from beautiful people. I released my bitterness, opened my heart, and was found by love in places I never imagined.

I found and celebrated my own power, and the knowledge that it does not come from any other person, but from that place deep within me where I sit and converse with G-od. I also learned that submission and surrender are not weakness, but are the natural companions of trust, love and respect, to be given or accepted as beautiful gifts.

And I lost 30 pounds. I didn't even know that I had until this morning.

So we will get though it all. I will get through it all, dragging the rest behind me if need be, kicking and screaming. Today, I begin to sell off the useless trappings and posessons I have accumulated for which I have no use. Today, I start up my website for the items that were too specialized and different for the crowds at Ebay to notice. Today I begin anew, naked, at square one, a rebirth. I have reached the bottom, there is no place to go but up.

Judge Roberts

Reactions to President Bush's nomination of John G. Roberts to the Supreme Court:

Oh, yes, we knew there would be reactions. The Greatest Minds of Our Nation (the liberals, of course, just ask them) and a few from the Intellectual Wasteland (that's us, folks) have been working up suitable and quoteable quotes for days, just waiting for the opportunity to hit that send button on their faxes.

"The president has chosen someone with suitable legal credentials, but that is not the end of our inquiry. The Senate must review Judge Roberts' record to determine if he has a demonstrated commitment to the core American values of freedom, equality and fairness." - Senate minority leader Harry Reid, D-Nev.

Now, if Harry Reid can just remember that "Freedom" means freedom from governmental interference and not "Freedom to inflict governmental interference" we'll be fine.

"Judge Roberts is the kind of outstanding nominee that will make America proud. He embodies the qualities America expects in a justice on its highest court: someone who is fair, intelligent, impartial and committed to faithfully interpreting the Constitution and the law." - Senate Majority Leader Bill Frist, R-Tenn.

Well, I would expect no less from Sen. Frist. I mean, it's easy to give verbal support. The real sign of supporting this choice will be in how he manages to corral and contain those damned Renegade RINO's.

"We are extremely disappointed that President Bush has chosen such a divisive nominee for the highest court in the nation, rather than a consensus nominee who would protect individual liberty and uphold Roe v. Wade." - NARAL Pro-Choice America.

Oooooo, I'm so scared of you, NARAL. And what the hell is a "Consensus Nominee" except someone who is more concerned about keeping the squeakiest wheels quiet regardless of what the real Consensus believes is right or wrong? Consensus nominee... I've heard it all now.

Roberts "rules based on the application of existing laws and specific facts of the cases before him, rather than making new laws or creating new policies based on personal opinion." - Sean Rushton, director of the conservative Committee for Justice.

Yes, we've thought that before about others and were disappointed. Let's hope this is not the case.

"I look forward to the Committee's findings so that I can make an informed decision about whether Judge Roberts is truly a guardian of the rule of law who puts fairness and justice before ideology." - Sen. Hillary Rodham Clinton, D-N.Y.

Yes, Hillary, and what you really mean is someone who puts your concepts of ideological fairness and justice over genuine fairness and justice.

"Senate Democrats, especially those seeking re-election next year, should know that we will be watching them carefully. If they again attempt to attack a nominee's faith or pro-life convictions, their constituents will know about it and they will be held accountable." - Father Frank Pavone, national director, Priests for Life.

Father Frank, if only it were true. But you and I both know that in this generation of Cafeteria Catholics and Buffet Baptists few have the will it takes to vote their convictions. That would imply, of course, that they had any strong convicitons beyond some strange notion that they cannot miss a single episode of Big Brother.

"Judge Roberts is an exceptional judge, brilliant legal mind, and a man of outstanding character who understands his profound duty to follow the law." - Sen. John Cornyn, R-Texas.

And Sen. Cornyn, it is up to you to help enforce party solidarity and get him voted on. Take no prisoners, Sir.

"The burden is on a nominee to the Supreme Court to prove that he is worthy, not on the Senate to prove he is unworthy." - Sen. Charles Schumer, D-N.Y.

No, Charles, it isn't. It's up to the president to decide if he is worth or not, and for you to either accept his choice or not. Judge Roberts need prove nothing. His record speaks for itself. It's not up to you to conduct some insane witchhunt through his past, merely to gain clarification of his past decisions. Read your copy of the Constitution, Sir, not the Clift Notes version you have in your breast pocket.

"He's the kind of judge that all of us want - someone committed to applying the law impartially rather than legislating from the bench." - Sen. Orrin Hatch, R-Utah.

Put your money where your mouth is, Orrin. You've squirmed and wiggled your way out of being a Solid Supporter before. The people of Utah will be paying attention.

"I'm hopeful that in the coming weeks we can avoid vicious character assassinations and attacks in this confirmation process." - Sen. George Allen, R-Va.

Open your eyes, Sir. "In the coming weeks" is here now. Take a trot through such founts of Liberal Togetherness as the DU and see how deep the love is.

"I look forward to a full process, a direct vote up or down of a majority, not a supermajority, and also really a healthy debate about the role of the courts." - Sen. Sam Brownback, R-Kan.

Oh, I don't think you'll be disapponted, Sen. Brownback. Just remember, this will not be some cordial debate between persons of refinement and gentility. I hope you're prepared for the bloodbath ahead.

"Who knows about this guy?" - Sen. Tom Harkin, D-Iowa.

I'm not even going to diginfy that question with a response. Like he hasn't had intel on this and every other potential nominee for months, since Rehnquist took ill. Please. Go peddle that elsewhere, Tom.

"I can't help but think that he will continue to impress as a person of fairness, thoughtfulness and just the kind of judge who will bring a nonpolitical approach to judging. ... I think he's going to be well received." - Sen. Jeff Sessions, R-Ala.

From your mouth to God's ear.

"He's brilliant. ... He's someone who is I think obviously well respected on both sides of the aisle. At a time when circuit court nominees were being filibustered left and right, he just really sailed through his confirmation. Given that, I think the president did what he promised during the campaign. He looked for the best and the brightest and he chose someone who would meet the test, the high test, that Supreme Court justices would be required to meet." - Sen. Rick Santorum, R-Pa.

Ah, sailed through, hmmm... Yes, but how quickly they will forget that now that the ante is raised.

"This is a task so important that partisan politics must be set aside." - Sen. Kay Bailey Hutchison, R-Texas.

Amen, Kay. Amen.

Thanks to the AP for supplying a roundup of quotes today. Although, all told, I'll bet they've had them for a week.

Blog Filler The Day In Pics

Oooo, how can you look at this and not wanna belt one on and grab a "Damnit Strap?" Semper Fi, me bucko's.

Someone tell the Brazilians this is soooo "last year poor white trash wannabe."

Yes, there is a rumor that Barbeque Beef is on the menu for next week's Cotillion. And yes, when you're feeding that many people, this IS what passes for the meat counter.

Hippies prepare a Human Sacrifice to protest the Cotillion Barbeque-Beef-A-Thon, stating that "cows, are like, divine, man, and babies, are, like so needy and smell worse than, like, we do."

Flock of Seagulls meets Phish?

Okay, okay. Last one.

They're working. They're fighting. They're winning. 'Nuff said. Kick ass, Darkness. Dip one in pigshit for me.

I feel so special.

It isn't every day I'm informed that I'm being de-linked, so I must really consider this the high point of my brand new week. All of my heroes have endured de-linkings, massive exercises of indignant HTML manipulation frought with angry words and dire proclaimations of moral superiority. Misha, Rob, countless others, you name them, they've endured these exercises and emerged stronger because of them. Not that I would ever presume to be a blogger of even a near stature to either of them.

Today, in my email, I received a comment notification from MT with the text of a comment left on my post about Yahoo and the death of the chatrooms. Let me share this with you:

"Sorry, I think you're all missing the point...and I'm delinking pretty quickly. The international scene involving the trafficking of children has operated with relative impunity, including in our own country. If yahoo is making an overly "sweeping" move to try and curb the sexual predation of those under 18 I support it. I'm shocked that as a mother you don't have a shred more patience and tolerance."

Now, most of the time when I receive a comment like this I respond in email. I prefer to keep it private, since that seems only civil. So true to form, I formulated my response, entered it, and sent it, only to have it returned promptly by the great and mystical Mailer Daemon of Yahoo in a matter of seconds.

So I've been delinked by someone who did not have the decency to engage in debate, chosing instead to dash in, make their announcement of indignation, and then zip away unscathed and unmuddied by any response.

Well, that's not the way things work around here. You bring up something which merits a response, I will respond. If your email doesn't work, it will happen publicly. So now, in the interest of responding to someone I have to presume is a fellow blogger and perhaps even a fellow Munuvian, the following is my response to the comment posted above:

Point 1: One incident which precipitated the closure of the chat rooms occured not in chat but in a Yahoo Group. Chats which occur between members of a group within a password protected group chatroom are not accessible by the general public.

Point 2: The second incident involved a small child receiving sexually explicit emails for the purpose of enticing this child into sex. This incident would never have happened if this parent had engaged the parental controls available to Yahoo users, or had monitored her child's internet access. The idea that any child under the age of 10 is responsible enough to cruise about the internet unfettered is absurd and and irresponsible. My daughter knows that she is not to login unless either my husband or I are there. She also knows not to respond to any IM's that may pop onto the screen if my husband or I are away from the keyboard.

Point 3: What Yahoo did had absolutely nothing to do with responsibility and everything to do with the almighty dollar. If Yahoo had wanted to operate their chatrooms in a responsible manner, they would have shut down the "bots" or automated entities which would pop from room to room sending IM's to every person on the room list, generally messages of an explicitly sexual nature or containing links to pornographic websites. Over the course of an hour in chat, it was not unusual to receive as many as 50 and often more of these unwelcomed IMs from the Bots. Yahoo did absolutely nothing to deny access to their system to these advertisers, and it is the concensus of many who use the rooms that these pornograpers were paying Yahoo for the access.

Moose, if you read regularly, you know that crimes against children are a hot button with me. But unlike some, I do not toss the baby with the bathwater. If you have one bad teacher in an elementary school, you do not close down the entire school. If you have one groping fool in a Tigger suit at Disney World, you don't shut down the entire park. That is like saying that because Alice in Wonderland is the product of a drug addicted, Victorian era pedophile, no more childrens books from that era can be kept in public libraries.

It is also like delinking because you disagree with one post out of many. Now, had I extolled the pleasures of child pornography, incited rebellion for the purpose of bringing Yahoo to their knees (pun not intended), posted overt erotic stories, or published skin pix, perhaps it would be understandable and even applaudible. This, however? Mature, please.

Ah, that felt good. And so, anonymoose, whomever you are, and wherever you truly do blog, here is my response to both your rhetoric and your promise of delinking. Be well, prosper, and enjoy your life.

Just a little fun...

I have a friend who games, and he needs an "Army" to go forth and battle for him. Well, to build this army, one goes to a website, clicks the button representative of the number spelled out in a grid, and that give him one new member for that army.

Well, it's been slow, and he only had three little minions.

You want to help him out and give him fighters by the score? *evil grin*

Just go here and click the number as it shows. Let's see how many we can give him.

We can do this, people.

21 year old Charity Sunshine is a accomplished soprano who sings with orchestras in Denmark, Hungary, and the United States. She's young, she's lovely, she has her whole life ahead of her except for one problem: she has been diagnosed with pulmonary hypertension which is often fatal. There is no known cure for this disease.

When her grandfather told an old friend about his granddaughter's illness, this old friend did what she could to help. The friend, an accomplished musician by her own right, suggested a concert as a way of showcasing young Charity's talents and putting a face to the disease. This friend worked hard to make the concert a success, and took the stage to accompany Charity as she sang.

Charity's grandfather? Californina's congressman Tom Lantos. His good friend of many years? US Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice.

They can overcome politics, and have for years. I'm sure they entertain some pretty spirited debates, but when the day is done, that is put aside. Friends first, adversaries second.

Are you paying attention, people? *taps the glass on the monitor* Wake up and smell the coffee, folks. We have too many common similarities to pitch them all aside for one pet issue or another. I can argue until the cows come home over one social, political, or economic issue and still walk up and hold that person close to tell them good night. I refuse to believe that I am unique in that way.

That isn't to say I won't defend myself, or those for whom I care, if they are slandered or maligned. But that includes those with whom I have differences as well as those with whom I share the most in common.

If Lantos and Rice can do this, what's wrong with the rest of us?

Too good to Ignore...

Sometimes I get comments that are just too good to ignore. Today was one of those days.

Now, it came as a rambling, run-on post from someone who used the ficticious name "fire@yaho.com" (must be Yahoo's cut-rate division) on a post about divestiture. But being the poet that I imagine myself to be, I looked at it, studied it, and decided that this must be an attempt not to frighten me from Hell's fires, but to be a Contemporary Poet.

You read it, and tell me if I'm right or wrong:

kill whom u want kill....
rape as much u can....
torture as u wish....
open jails and put under arrest whom u want...
do what u want 2 do...
what is last...

one day u will be necked in front of god
and paradise in write
and hill fire in your left
and your book,
what you have done good or bad
god register it
and wrote it dowen,
witeness will your
hands,
legs,
dicks,
tonge,
eyes,
ears,
many will say yes almighty god this slave he done .....
remember when suddenlly without notification u pass away....
away...
away...
alone in dark,mud,humid and tight grave ...
no body will help u
except what u have done
good or bad....
so think about it brother ,
think about.
if u r achristine,
moselm,
jews.
athiest,
buddist,
un care human,
beware of the end,
beware of the angle of death,
death,
death,

What do you think? Am I right?

Brave Woman.

Judith Kuntz, 64, a widow and a resident Brevard County, Florida is a braver woman than most and apparently a damned good shot.

She was in her bedroom late at night, in a house where she lives alone. The man who broke into it, a Jessie Preston who will now forever be 33 years old inspite of some obvious decay, made so much noise as he broke into her house that it awoke not only Mrs. Kuntz but her next door neighbor as well. And when this confused and misunderstood recent arrival from Michigan (where, we might add, he has a lengthy criminal record including such things as "property crimes and domestic violence") appeared in Mrs. Kuntz's bedroom doorway with his flashlight, she was prepared for him. The muzzle flash of a .38 is a beautiful thing in the dark.

One shot, one kill. I know trained professionals who couldn't do that under pressure.

One less assault/burglary/battery/you name it, waiting to happen and walking the streets of Brevard County.

Good Job, Mrs. Kuntz. You didn't cower and whimper and hope the police got there in time, then sue them from your hospital bed. You didn't wait to end up a sad statistic in the morning paper. I only hope that if I'm ever placed in that situation, I can perform as well under pressure as you did.

Score: Goblins, 0. Mrs. Kuntz, 1.

Good Day, and Welcome

Welcome, new readers, one-time readers, and perusers of the Cotillion. Enjoy your stay and read a bit. There's lot to see, as this woman is no One Trick Pony.

Sadly, I cannot get the blogroll to work, so Click Here to return to the Cotillion.

Yes, I'm Still Thanking You.

I wanted to again thank all of the people who came to the rescue of this underserving and appreciative woman and her family.

The truck runs a little better with each day as it works out the kinks acquired while parked in the Back Yard Automotive Rest Home. For a couple of days, the clutch was uncooperative, and Delfts was certain that it was going out. I assured him it wasn't, that it was just some spring in the linkage somewhere that was openly rebelling against having to work again after a prolonged vacation. And sure enough, yesterday the shifting smoothed out and all is well.

So, here's an accounting of the expenses so far:

$200.00 complete break assemblies
40.00 New tire
20.00 Fuel Pump
10.00 Various fluids
20.00 Gasoline
5.00 Topping of the oil
15.00 Coolant (because it came 2per box)
______________________________________
$310.00 Total to date

I have also ordered new bumper brackets for the front, as well as a new rear light lens from an ebay store. I hope to have a solid bumper on the front end soon.

Now, to the ever so kind TripleNeckSteel: I want you to know that we didn't exactly have the Spaghetti and Chianti dinner you so graciously provided for. What we did have was a wonderful sampling of the new appetizers at the Vietnamese restaurant in our neighborhood. We love going to eat at Saigon Restaurant on Lafayette Road in Indianapolis, but hadn't eaten there in months. I really believe the waiter/owner was as excited to see us back as we were to be there. It's one of those little, homey, family restaurants where they smile when you walk in, remember your names, and ask if you'd like your favorite or try this new item they just put on the menu.

Just so you all know, all of you kind souls, there is still a considerable amount left. I plan on leaving it right where it is, since with an old truck you just never know what might happen. It is good to have a cushion. I hope that Delfts finds the titles to the Tempo and the Chrysler so we can call and have them towed this week.

As they set, we might get a couple of hundred dollars out of them total. We have taken pretty detailed pictures of them in case the other driver or car is ever found and the claim can progress. I'm not counting on that ever happening, but you just never know. Anyway, when we do sell the heaps, my plan is to tuck that money away as well. It's hard to spend in Paypal, making it much safer there than in my wallet or bank account.

You do not know how hard it is to have access to what is left and not go batty fixing that old truck. But I have to be intelligent about this and not do anything stupid. I owe that to all of you.

Just to keep you updated

I wanted you to know how things are going since last I posted.

The Spousal Unit has ordered the parts for the brake repairs on the old Toyota pick-up that was snugged all safe in the backyard while Automotive Armagedon was happening in the driveway. Apparently the entire assembly comes as one unit, from the pads, to the calibers, the rotors, even beyond that into something called a "Tulip Joint," which I always thought was Dutch slang for some sort of cannibis.

He has also salvaged the battery from the Tempo's carcass and transplanted it into the little truck. A quick trip to the parts store for replacement cables, starter fluid, and line/carb cleaner, and that puppy will be ready for a fresh tank of fuel and a test ingnition. I'm thinking an oil change and round of fresh filters is in order, so I'm going to start that subliminal campaign tonight.

If he will remove the back wheel tonight (subliminal, subliminal), I'm sure we could get it to the shop before my shift at work Friday and back onto the truck sometime Saturday. The tire for sure will need replaced, and I'm of the opinion that the wheel may need it too.

Now, as to a timeline on this...

The brake assemblies should be here in a few days, just a matter of shipping if I understood things correctly. The transfer of funds from Paypal into my checking account should happen overnight tonight and as soon as it does we will have the Pilgrimage to NAPA for all our Under-the-Hood needs. Well, it might not be NAPA, but that was the only one that came to mind. I expect the initial ignition to occur as early as Friday Afternoon! How's that for quick?

With the replacement of the back tire/wheel by Saturday afternoon and a trip to the BMV on Monday, it looks really good for being back on the road behind the wheel in less than a week.

You, all of you, from those who have jingled the tipjar over there under my awful picture, to those who have emailed me their good wishes and cyber hugs, to those who have tracked back to this little House of Automotive Horrors with prayer or donation requests, there is no way you will ever know how grateful I am. It just can't be expressed on a blog or in an email. In some states that level of gratitude might even be illegal, I'm not sure.

I do have a question, though... About the old cars, because we now know the make, model, color, trim and year of the car that savaged ours (Thank you, FractalJ), would it be prudent to retain the mouldering heaps or get them removed? At such time as they might at least find the car owner, whether he was the driver or not, would his insurance company need access to the cars for the claim? I certainly want to make any claim as easy as possible, trust me. I want no obsticles in any adjuster's path.

Tow'em? Leave'em? I don't know... Any ideas?

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.

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.

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.

Okay, so it's not an Easter Story...

A long time ago, back in the 80's, I had a very good friend who lived across town from where I lived. Jane is a pistol, was then, and I'd venture to guess still is. She was the closest I ever had to an older sister, and I love her deeply for it.

One day, on my way to her house, I was driving down the interstate and approaching the bridge over White River. A horrible smell entered the car, and my first thought was that some poor animal had died in the area and was rotting near the road. It was a wet, dank smell, algae and rot, stagnant and acrid. And it was getting stronger.

After a moment, I felt something. I felt something against the backs of my legs, like a cat rubbing its greeting. I looked down and saw nothing. Then I felt this "nothing" slip up between my knees to sit on my lap. Then the pressure of paws walking up my chest, as cats do, to sniff my face. The sensation was unmistakable, my cats do this to me now. After feeling little puffs of that dead smelling air on my face, it lowered itself back onto my lap, stepped back onto the floorboards, and was gone. The entire experience only took a few seconds, and no, I had not consumed any mind altering substances.

I arrived at Jane's house in a complete state of freak and amazement and shared my story with her and Barb, another friend who at the time worked with me. Ah, such fodder for humor, but I was sure it had really happened.

A few days later, it happened again. And on the subsequent trip, it happened again. The smell lessened, but the other sensations remained the same and sometimes were even stronger, more intense. I could feel whiskers now, and the form was more defined. Finally, Barb could stand it no more, and asked me to pick her up on the way to Jane's so she could "see the cat."

She was not disappointed. At the same spot where I first was found by this cat, it entered the car and stroked Barb's legs. She froze, leaned back in her seat as far as she could push herself. "It's here, isn't it?" I asked. "Yes," was all she could manage. It stroked itself on the backs of her legs, climbed onto her lap, sat down, walked its front paws up her chest, and sniffed her face just as it had mine that first day. Then it came to my side of the car, rubbed the backs of my legs, and settled in. It took several miles for it to finally fade away, and Barb was properly unsettled. I would have expected no less.

Now at Jane's house it was Barb who talked about the cat in my car. Jane, still a skeptic, just smirked and nodded, secure in her own skepticism that we were "full of it." After a while, we got down to the business at hand, which was our little "arts" sessions in the back room. When it was time to go, Barb and I went out to the car, and opened our doors.

From the front step of her house, Jane called out "Here, kitty kitty kitty." When I asked what she was doing, she said "Calling your cat." Sure, I thought, very funny. The cat had faded miles before arriving at Jane's house.

The next drive to Jane's house did not produce the cat. She asked if it had gotten into the car, and I said that it hadn't. No smirk this time.

A few days later, I get this very funny phone call. From Jane, I might add. "Come over here now and get this cat. It's driving me crazy." Seems she had started seeing shadows and movements from the corners of vision, dashing into the hall, around corners, into the kitchen. All of them was, well, cat sized. Dark little shadow with a tail. And apparently it liked it there. I never was able to coax it back into the car.

I miss that cat.

Letters, oh we get Letters...

I reached into the old mailbag tonight and found this comment to a post I wrote ages ago on pop culture and it's negative affects on society. Now, after all this time, someone decides to comment.

Judy, who's email and such shall remain confidential, had the following to say:

People like you frighten me. Images in music and art are reflections of our society, not exhortations for the masses to act upon. There will always be those troubled souls searching for some sort of justification for their violent nature. Believe me, if musicians weren't around to blame, these folks would be finding another "explanation" for their psychosis. Who knows? Maybe they would be saying that Jesus made them do it. (the Crusades????)

The images that these icons promote appeals to young masses simply because they are human -- and young adults. Sex speaks to them, because their sexual identities are just coming into being. They glorify violence because they are conflicted inside, and regardless of what they might say, all human beings feel angry and violent at times. Better that these young people seek their release vicariously through these musical artists.

I understand the need to look toward pop culture as the problem, but I believe there are worse demons in the world. How many are killed by war each day? How many women are subjugated throughout the world, and even in our own country through domestic violence? Why are there such racial and cultural divides in our society? Artists, poets and musicians (at least, I believe, the great majority) produce some truthful messages...ones that uncluttered minds embrace.

Well, I just couldn't resist responding. After mailing it I decided (at the prompting of the Spousal Unit) that it really needed to be posted:

Interesting train of thought, claiming that I frighten you, since I am also a musician. I have been a vocalist for years, as well as a graphics artist, a painter, a sculpter, have worked in pen and ink, a poet, an essayist, and an actor. I have experience in many aspects of the arts, performing and otherwise.

Now, that said, let me also add that in every medium, in every art, the artist has to be responsible to his audience as well as to his own self _expression. Irresponsible self _expression is nothing more than masturbation with a price tag. Irresponsible self _expression which negatively impacts an entire generation is obscene.

Now, since I've tossed that word into the ring, let me qualify its use. I also write and draw much using erotic themes, some dark, some not. It has been called pornographic by some, and tame as milk toast by others. The most important thing, however, is that I understand what is art and what is merely pornographic.

So let's examine your premise that this music appeals to the young because they are young. This music appeals to them for exactly the same reason Deep Purple, Alice Cooper, The Doors, Vanilla Fudge, Steppenwolf, and Lou Reed appealed to my generation: our parents hated it. Not the sex, not the exortation of drug use, not the anti-war propaganda contained within, only that our parents hated it. Pure and simple. And we delighted in our rebellion, as impotent as it was. And in the ultimate act of rebellion, we sometimes emulated the lyrics to piss off our parents.

We looked at "free love" and "tune in, turn on and tune out" as a means to an end. It was Cult, Counter Culture, and cool. Now what does the youth have today in it's place? Mysogeny. Violence. Objectification of persons by race, religion, and sex. Class envy. Is it a symptom of where these kid were raised? Hardly, as the largest part of the gangsta and violent metal movement are pampered upper middle class kids looking for the danger of rebellion. Indulged children in adult bodies with little or no impulse control, sexualized by their own parents' irresponsibility, and pandered to by a media who recognized a gold mine when they saw it. They have never been taught a fundamental sense of discernment, either in the home or in the school, and society as a whole now pays for the lack of genuine guidance they needed as children.

There is no need to look at "pop culture" as the problem. It flings itself in the faces of us all on a daily basis. Slutwear in the little girl department at any department store is both a symptom and a cause. Barebacking is both a symptom and a cause. Rainbow parties are both a symptom and a cause. And all of them will affect the next generation negatively as they engrain themselves into popular culture.

But the best part of the entire comment left is that it completely missed the point of the entire original post. That I find both amusing and sad.

There, I've said my piece. Now discuss.

Balancing on the Edge.

Have you ever walked on an edge or along a beam, one foot in front of the other, balanced yet not completely? You continue on, comforted when the edge is clean and smooth and straight, concerned when it seems crumbly or unsettled.

When you reach a solid spot, the urge is to hurry along, to complete quickly what is easy. But when you reach a span which is compromised, where the footing is unsure, the temptation is to slowly move an inch at a time, fearful of the fall, stiff and stilted with overbalance and over compensation.

In reflection it would seem clearly better, as a man or a woman, a wife, a friend or a lover, to reverse that pattern. Linger in the smooth areas to enjoy them, and not dawdle in the rocky and difficult ones. Often in midst of difficulty is the most beauty, the greatest reward, even the greater chance of finding a serenity never before found and never experienced before.

If you find yourself forced to leave that path, you find warm grass and cool water just inches from your difficulty. As is also the case, often the smoothest stretches are through the most dangerous environs, craggy and rough, with tempests which pound below and seek to pull you deep and far from your path. The path is constant, and the way may seem easy and well traveled, but in fact it is a deception.

Look at your path and how you are walking it. Then take a moment to stand at the edge and open your eyes to what surrounds you. If you fell, or if you decided to step down, where would you find yourself? Even what looks like a dark abyss can be a beautiful moon shadow concealing warm arms and a good heart. And what seems a safe harbor can be riddled with tricky tides that push and pull you mercilessly.

And so now I stand here, with the crosswinds picking up and the gusts causing the pebbled and sandy path to shift, one foot on that fragile edge with a great unknown beyond it. Decisions must be made involving choices with enormous potental for both good and bad, impacting far more people than just this one tormented soul.

To go or to stay? To remain in a personal stasis or to push myself toward greater potential personal expansion? To stay safely in routine or break loose into uncharted seas? To continue to accept the pain and and frustration with which I am intimately familiar, or to gamble with what lies hidden in the shadows, be it happiness or a different kind of pain? Regardless of the decision or the action taken, whichever direction I go the decision cannot be for me alone.

I am not simply one person: mother, wife, employee, co-worker, friend, lover, counselor, rock, feathers, rage, and warm softness, all of these and more. Each of them is either an extension or an opening around the well worn edge of a single puzzle piece depicting on its surface a fair-faced and red haired woman with a fatigued soul and a need for direction. And on each jig-sawed extention, within each opening about the circumfrance of that piece are others, many others, inter-connected and inter-dependent, and all affected by what happens to that single piece, as they would be with any piece in the complex web of this life.

This decision is within reach of my fingertips, just over the edge of the path.

Moments from the Weekend

Texas is beautiful, and didn't meet a single person down there who wasn't courteous. For the most part, they were beyond courteous and actually so very friendly that I could see myself living there and fitting in easily. I loved it. The people, the cities, the shops, the variety... It was like heaven.
**********

I heard Terry Schiavo's voice last night on "Coast to Coast AM" and heard her say "Hi Daddy." I was stunned. No, I'm not one of those people who can hear hidden messages in recordings, or see subliminal messages in ads. I'm not that gullible. But I know what I heard and it was devistating.
**********

HumbleDevilDog can now legitimately lay claim to my "Single Malt Scotch" cherry after providing me with two wonderful examples. I had never had a single malt before, and believed that I actually hated Scotch, based on a bad experience with what must have been a very cheap bar-blend. The Dalmore was light, fruity, slightly sweet, a spring evening. The other, the name escapes me completely, was dusky, dark, smokey and sultry, a night of pleasure and ardent, risky sex in a bottle.

So, HDD, thank you for taking that cherry and doing it with such finesse and elegance. And I know how you feel...
**********

If it is considered humane to "allow her to die" by refusing her food and water, then why don't we change our penal codes to allow that as a method of execution? Take Scott Peterson for example. Strap him to a bed, give him a medication which renders him partially paralyzed and incapable of speaking for himself, and deny him food and water for as long as it takes. Obviously it's not cruel and unusual to do to an innocent woman who's only "crime" is being handicapped, so what's to keep us from using it in the state and federal prisons as a method of execution?

Works for me.
**********

A kiss can be the perfect act, with absoltely nothing else required to delve into the dimly lit, sensual places I keep secret, fed by want, yearning, and promise. Aarrggh.
**********

You know, I'm rather sick of being called a Nazi because I believe in the rule of law, that life is sacred, that people need to be responsible for themselves, that people should be able to spend their income as they see fit. Hardly a Nazi philosophy.

Well, let me tell you who the real Nazis are. The real Nazis are the ones who are currently acting to cleanse the population of those they see as unfit to live. It started with the unborn. Now it's the intellectually and communcatively disabled. Next? Perhaps the elderly, maybe the mentally "deficient" or maybe the irreparably mentally ill? Sound familiar? It should. Sounds like 1936, doesn't it? But I'm the Nazi. Go figure.
**********

I want to move to Dallas/Ft. Worth. I want to be surrounded by the wonderful people I met there, and live in a place a wonderful as that pair of cities. Yes, I know. Want in one hand and...

Spring

Today is one of those beautiful days that lull us and lead us to believe that winter is finally over. Deep down, we all know this is not the case and that there will be more days of cold, rain, perhaps even snow before Winter finally accepts the conditions of surrender to temperamental Spring.

Still, when we look out on a day like today it is not difficult at all to throw all logic aside and suspend belief, if only for one beautiful afternoon.

The sun touches places that have not felt it’s warmth in months, the breezes tease and toy with hair too long covered by hats and scarves, and the soul is serenaded by the few brave songbirds which have ventured north well ahead of their flocks. Even the most jaded of observers cannot deny the green sprouts and tender buds emerging from their wintry graves.

It will not be long before the golf courses are emerald again, or the parks a riot of color. Soon, too, the pools will be open and screams and squeals will fill the air as children splash and play under the endless sky. Families will set out feasts in open shelters, and lovers will steal away for moments of sensual bliss on blankets of soft, green grass.

Today is merely a promise that winter will soon be subdued, and such a lovely promise it is.

The Pacifier

Let me preface this entire thing by saying that I am not a big Vin Diesel fan. His sibilent lisping speech drives me nuts, and not in the "warm fuzzy" way.

That said, I went to see the new Disney feature, The Pacifier, this afternoon with the Spousal Unit and Progeny. And after the silliness that was supposed to pass as a Navy SEAL mission in the first few moments, and the fact that a SEAL kept refering to others as "Soldiers" and never called anyone out for calling him a "Soldier," I have to say I rather enjoyed the movie.

The premise was farfetched, a Navy SEAL protecting a famly and turning into a nanny, but given that, I was entertained by how he had to adjust to his charges, as well as how they ultimately adjusted to his quirks and idiocyncracies. The kids were kids, the teens weren't entirely "cartoon teens" and the Ninjas were a hoot.

You want a move that puts a man in a good light? Lets him be a man and not look ridiculous? Shows him being strong and a good influence, vulnerable but not stupid? Well, this does that. He makes the best of a very bad situation, and does it on his own terms.

Yes, it's light family entertainment. But I'm so sick of buffoonish charicatures of "father figures" that this was refreshing.

Matinee material to be sure, but worth that. Just be prepared for a hysterical performance by Carol Kane in a small role in the first half of the movie. Just delightful. And Scott Campbell from Kids In The Hall was every pretentious amateur theatre hack director I have ever seen, rolled into one very funny package.

Pack the kids in the mini-van and head to the multiplex. And take an extra napkin from the snackbar. You'll get something in your eye during the final sequence.

Photo: Adjusted.

Roni, the photo artist I have linked a few posts down, gave me some ideas for making a photo look better, making less a "snapshot" and more something a little beautiful. So I had to try. Something mundane, something uninteresting, flawed and imperfect. Make it a little better.

Did I do okay?

Friday Bloggage

Well, I just got my confirmation email from LuLu.com, and the books have been shipped. I should have them in plenty of time for the trip to Texas.

Make sure you have a little pocket change on Friday Night, as we will be auctioning one off for Mr. du Toit's Sniper Fund. I'd love to see him get a nice fat check from the Blogfest. Hell, $20 would be a drop in the bucket as those things go, scopes and such, but it all adds up, doesn't it?

Yes, I'm working on the next one, and hope to start writing in earnest tonight. I had to rework the prologue just a touch to accomodate someone's wishes not to appear, but that's perfectly fine. I respect that. I may feel the same way, especially if some strange, demented Hoosier woman tried to write me in as a domestic terrorist. But I can work around that.

The cast of characters remains essentially the same, with the addition of a few persons in other states, bloggers all. Sure, that makes it a "Niche-book" but I see no problem with that. As long as you all enjoy it, that's what matters.

While I'm on here for a moment before heading to work, I want you to scamper over to Blackfive and take a read. I want to see that movie he has posted about, Gunners Palace I believe. Also, follow his trackback to Soldiers Angels and see what you can do to help out. Those are wonderful people, doing beautiful things. And we can all use a few "brownie points" for our souls sometimes. Trust me on that.

Have a good Friday and try to have a satisfying weekend.

Beauty

One of the true beauties of the internet is its way of destroying boundaries. Not only international ones, but political, economic, and personal boundaries as well. A person can sit in their home, or at a table in a cafe, and discover people thousands of miles away. They can share something as simple as conversation, or as intimate as their souls, and almost everything in between.

Tonight I got a glimpse into a soul. And it is filled with beauty.

I encourage you to go visit his gallery and enjoy the beauty that is Roni Segoly's world. I do not think you will be disappointed in the least.

Call for Submissions

I need anyone who fancies themselves a writer to submit a small piece of sensual fiction to be included in a small book, an anthology of erotic essays, poems, or short stories.

Here is an example of the writing I am looking for. Delicious, stimulating, but not "over the top" in any way.

Send me your email addy in comments with a note saying you're interested. Or post a story on your site and track back to this post.

No one will make any money on this. Any royalties will be donated to charity.

Interested?

Swamp the Strib

Hugh Hewitt has issued a call that I belive a great many of you might consider answering.

There are those of you reading this humble bit of fluff with a talent and a drive to make a project such as this a force of reckoning. Acidman, Velociman, Emperor Misha, Sir George, Blackfive, Dean Esmay, DokRussia, Kim du Toit, Stephen, all of these writers come to mind immediately when I look at this idea.

And there are more, many more of you who would be an asset to this.

I encourage all of you to go read this and consider it seriously.

Link Updating

Time to bust out the templates and update a link. Lord and Tyrant Spatula at SpatulaCityBBS has finally broken his treaty with Blogsnot and moved on to MT. Can you all give me an "Amen"?

Don't let the rhetoric fool you. He's a pussycat. And I already have him penciled in on my dance card at the "Dallas BlogHugfest for several clutches. Hope the Spousal Unit doesn't mind. I'm sure he has his name of a few dance cards too, truth be told.

Did I say Dallas for the Texas Blogfest? Well, yes, we're making an extreme effort to be there, God and the IRS willing. The biggest cost will be gasoline, and if we can convince LC Natasha, the Rottweiler's reigning Princess of Pistol Whipping to ride with us, it becomes all the more affordable. I mean, sharing a room with Denita and Eric makes our lodging total a big, whopping $40 plus tax for the whole weekend, and I don't eat, so where else am I going to get a vacation weekend essentially for the cost of gas? Nowhere, I'd venture a guess, and this time the Spousal Unit can tag along, too.

I'd love to have been able to attend the Georgia Writer's Conference at Jekyl Island, but with the turmoil at work it just wasn't possible. The one weekend in March, however, I believe I can do.

And if I'm extremely lucky, I might even get an audience with the Emperor. Be still, my fluttering heart.

Progress and such

Well, the first draft of the novel is almost done, and I have a decision to make on publishing. Either I can use a publishing house, Whitmore Publishing, which will read it and either accept it or decline it, or I can go with Lulu and self publish. It seems to be a much better deal than the one at CafePress, and will let me edit my manuscript after the pdf conversion.

Any input? Any insight? Any suggestions? I sure could use the feedback.

Linky Lovin's

While I'm in here doing a little housekeeping, I need to direct you to a few additions to the blogroll that have been added, or will be added as soon as I get my head from my rectal pore.

Suspension of Disbelief is the newest blogchild, the observations and perspective of a conservative athiest with a good mind and his head squarely on his shoulders. Even people with strongly religious and non-inclusive beliefs can read his site and walk away with something positive. He debunks frauds, he points out the insanity of virulent athiests, and he brings reason to the table. Definitely worthy of a read and a link.

Ranting Fox is a brand new blog from a Hoosier in the Heartland. When I organize a Hoosier Blogfest, I hope she has an opportunity to attend. Great insights and a great read.

And TexasBug. This is the one I still need to get in my rolls. Good good good. But she's from Texas, and an Aggie to boot. What's not to like.

Dash on over and tell'em Mama sent you.

Scary! And Serious!

If this doesn't scare the Beejus out of you, I don't know what will.

Thanks, TexasBug.

State of the Union Address

I don't normally attempt predictions. It involves too much reading and analysis...but I'm feeling froggy today....

Sometime during his speech, I think Bush may take a play out of the Gipper's handbook and force the dhimms to applaud the war in Iraq.

If i'm right, the dhimms will be forced to stand and applaud, thereby lending credibility to President Bush's decisions, but alienating them from their moonbat constituency...

...or...

...they will not stand and applaud, showing themselves to be unsupportive of our troops...thereby pissing off the MAJORITY of Americans that elected the Bush for a second term.

They'll be damned if they do, damned if they don't...*cackle*

If i'm wrong, hell...I'll drink diet mountain dew all day Thursday...

meh.

It's Monkeytime!

Many thanks to the inimitable Darth Monkeybone for keeping things lit up here during my technologically induced hiatus over the last few days.

You are the Man! Thanks so much, Handsome.

When Sithmonkeys Debate

A debate on global warming overheard at a Sithmonkey Coffee House:

Padawan #1:

Screech! Screech! Howl!

Padawan #2:

ROAR! GROWL! *beats chest angrily*

Padawan #1:

SCREEEEEEEECH! HOWWWWWWWWL! *scampers around wildly, flinging poo in random directions*

Padawan #2:

ROOOOAAARRR!! *picks up the jawbone of a long dead animal and begins beating the ground insanely* *Flings poo at an innocent bystander*

Padawan #1:

"I stand corrected..."

Who was responsible?

Everyone's favorite ascerbic has posted his list of the ten people he holds most responsible for screwing up this country in his lifetime. It got me thinking, and I was a little surprised that our lists didn't match up better.

1. Madelyn Murray O'Hair-She was so completely consumed by her quest to promote her athiesm as not just an alternative to a belief in a higher power, that she set the stage for the bullshit twerps like Michael Newdow (sp) and his insanity even now, decades later.

2. Gloria Steinhem-Little girls are no longer allowed to be little girls, and little boys have been stigmatized and damaged by this woman and her brand of feminism. Sorry, bitch. We're different, and we should be celebrating our differences, not crying foul everytime we get offended by some poor man's innocent advances. We used to call it "Courtship" and because of you it's all sexual harassment.

3. Televangelists-Yeah, sure, it's more than one person. It's an entity. But I'm going to include it anyway. They bilked pensioners out of their life savings with the promise of eternity, and sent them nothing but tap water in plastic vials, "Holy Handkerchiefs" and pebbles from the Temple Mount. They did more during the 80's to hurt genuine Christians and bring ridicule to faith than anyone else did, short of Lucifer himself sitting in a gilt chair on a poorly lit set in a bumped up wig and polyester suit.

4. Richard Daley-who bought and paid for the 1960 election with his crooked political machine in Chicago and it's spillover into northern Indiana.

5. Abbie Hoffman-Well, him and his ilk, who ripped this country apart and aided such humanitarian world leaders as Ho Chi Min.

6. Jesse Jackson-He took a decent, much needed and productive movement and turned it into his own private piggybank.

7. George Soros-At least he learned that throwing money at something isn't always successful, or we'd have seen a completely different inauguration on Thursday. He destabilized the economies of nations all over the world, and I wouldn't be surprised if he weren't up to his ass in the current weakening of the dollar overseas.

8. Ross Perot-Just look at the 1990's and you'll see the effect he had on this country with his "homespun populist" bullshit.

9. Walter Cronkite-He built our trust in his objectivism, then betrayed it by using it to forward his own agenda. And he didn't have the courage of his own convicitions to state his agenda until after he had retired and his lunacy was exposed.

10. Richard Nixon-And it wasn't just the damage he did to the nation as a whole, but to the political environment of the country for the last three decades. Because of him, good men are tarred with the same brush he was for no other reason than their political affiliation. Because of him, a lot of qualified people who could do great things for this country either cannot or will not sacrifice themselves or their families in the pursuit of public office.

There are more, but this was what came out of sleep deprivation at almost 5am.

Mama Explains it all to You.

Oh, Mama gets lots of questions these days. Lots and lots of them are questions about things most people with at least three firing neurons have already figured out on their own or with the assistance of one of the many educational men and women at such sites as Gutrumbles, Inblognito, the Anti-Idiotarian Rottweiler, Conservative Insurgent or Blackfive.

Yes, sometimes things are very very hard to figure out on your own, so I will try to make it very very easy for you. Let's put on our Magic Tinfoil Thinking Caps and get started! Wheeee!

Our first question is from Beulah Thatch-Knockerman from Lovell, Mass. She asks:
"If this war isn't evil, then why are the noble Iraqi Rebels fighting us so hard and killing our innocent children? Is it the Bush/Cheney/Halliburton Ogliarchy?"

Actually, Beulah, the only noble Iraqi Rebels are the ones fighting against the hundreds and hundreds of Illegal Immigrants who are trying to take over their country to deny them the right to govern themselves.

Yes, it's true! Sneaky old Jordanians and Syrians and Egyptians and Chechens and Iranians and Saudis keep crossing the border and causing problems for the people who live there, just like here, only different.

And Beulah, they are not killing our innocent children. All of our innocent children are right here in this country. All of the people in Iraq who are wearing our uniforms are Brave Men and Women who have chosen a life in uniform and who have trained hard and are doing exactly what they volunteered to do. When you call them children, you are insulting them and belittling them and their sacrifices. They are not whining crybaby pussies, so you need to quit being one and grow a brain.

Now, Thornton Greentree in East Treestump, Oregon asks:
"Why does the world hate us so much?"

Well, Thornton, to begin with, the world doesn't hate us at all. It is just a big sphere of rock and water and molten magma surrounded by an atmosphere, incapable of feeling in spite of the quaint way in which some mentally ill persons insist that it is a sentient entity. It is incapable of hatred, and therefore does not hate us.

Now, some socialogical groupings hate us, and this is usually because they are like the spoiled little kids on the playground who wear black t-shirts and mope about with dirty hair and hate all the kids who are smart or popular or participate in sports. They don't hate those other kids for any other reason than that they wish they were the smart, popular, or athletic kids and project their own emotional, physical and intellectual inadequacies onto others.

It is pretty much the same flawed mental processes that cause college professors to hate their conservative students, or Michael Newdow to hate having to hear the word God.

Okay, let's have another question. Hmmm... Butterfly Moonbeam Sweeny from Venus Beach, California wants to know:
"How come those Jews are committing acts of terror against those poor Palestinian people?"

Oh, Butterfly, this is a very good question. Let me adjust your Magic Tinfoil Thinking Cap with my handmade cherry Cluebat for this one.

Okay, when she comes around I'll tell little Butterfly that the Jews who live in Israel don't commit acts of terror. By definition, an Act of Terror is a covert act directed against civilians by non-military persons to frighten or terrorize them. The only people in Israel who target civilians (babies, mommies, grandmothers and schoolchildren) are men and women who call themselves Palestinian Freedom Fighters.

Even when the Israeli Defense Force goes into an area full of these bad terrorist men and women, they try very very hard not to hurt anyone who is standing around or just trying to live their lives. But it is very hard to hit these bad people without hitting the innocent people, because the bad people like to use little babies and women as Human Shields.

Do you know what a Human Shield is? It is like when a bad bank robber grabs a hostage to keep the police from shooting. It is like when evil people take over a school and sit in a classroom full of children so the police won't shoot. The Israelis don't use human shields, because it is a Bad Thing. Palestinian Terrorist do use Human Shields becaue they are cowards.

Okay, when Butterfly comes around, someone share your notes with her.

Whew, this wore poor Mama out. It is very hard to state the obvious sometimes, and to do it in a simple way that is easy for some people to understand. Mama needs a tylenol now. So everyone can take off their Magic Tinfoil Thinking Caps now and put them back into the gloveboxes of their Yugos or ancient, rusting Pintos until the next time Mama Explains it all to You.

It's Finally Dead

This is one death for which I will not mourn.

Chapter 10

Well, here's the chapter I promised you. The novel is set in the future, 2015, at a fictional national bloggers convention, Confab '15, in Dallas, TX. Many of the characters are based on bloggers I know, most of them Texas bloggers, with a few purely fictional charcters thrown in for good measure. Be kind, folks. I've never done this kind of thing before. And remember, this is a very rough draft.

And no, there is no smut. This is as explicit as it gets, at least as it stands now. I didn't see any reason to make it any more explicit than this. The story isn't about sex, it's about terrorism, betrayal, loyalty, and the fight against evil. But even in such circumstances, sometimes there is a little romance.

The small piano bar at the top of the convention center complex proved a poor place for finding receptive women, young or old. After making the rounds of the unattached and uninterested women at every other bar in the complex, not to mention at the Loyal Citizens gathering in the lobby earlier, Ralph decided to simply find a table where he could sit off to himself and enjoy the music and a well earned Scotch.

The man at the piano was particularly good, better than the honky-tonk guys he was used to hearing around Amarillo or Ft. Benning. He settled into some old Alyssa Keys and a little Dr. John for the older couples sitting together across the circular room.

Ralph sipped his Scotch and looked out over the Dallas nightscape, vast dark expanses with streams of moving light that crossed them. It looked nothing like it had when he was a child, and he found himself missing the close little houses in their snug yards. Even intermingled in the bad memories were brief flashes of things that made him nostalgic.

The music and the Scotch finally combined to relax the day’s events from his mind. He had been on guard since long before Bill had picked him up after his shift this afternoon. Good thing, too, he thought. I have no intention of dying on the streets of Dallas at the hands of some amateur terrorist after surviving BAC at Benning and deployments into North Korea and Dubai and places he wasn’t even allowed to acknowledge, against enemies no one knew existed.

Wouldn’t that be ironic, he mused. At least if I died in my hometown, my death would be acknowledged, folks I care about would know what happened, and I’d get a funeral my friends could attend.

Ralph sat there, leaned comfortably back into the leather wing-back chair and half closed his eyes as he faced the night sky. The reflections of the room, dreamy dark in the lounge half-light, played out on the ebony pane of glass. The waitresses sashayed and dipped, the women preened and cooed, the men leaned in to their baited hooks, and the bartender acted like air traffic control from behind the backlit plexiglass bar.

He sat there, watching life’s most primal dance play out on the darkened glass, sipping his drink, and enjoying the solitude in spite of himself. Then the old brass elevator doors opened and in the amber lighting stood a beautiful young lady. She was looking around the room, looking for someone. Ralph watched as she stepped into the bar and slowly walked the circular aisle that ran between the patrons seated on stools along the bar, and those seated along the curved glass in leather chairs or the tucked and rolled, half-circle booths, searching for someone.

He had a definite appreciation for the female form, and this particular example certainly deserved it. His half-closed eyes afforded him the opportunity of doing exactly that without outwardly appearing leering, boorish, or just more interested than was polite in public. He slowly raised his glass and took a slow, deep drink as she made her way closer to his table.

Instead of walking past, she laid her hand on his arm and leaned around the back of the chair.

"I hoped I’d find you here."

Recognizing the voice, he opened his eyes and turned away from her reflection to look at her. "Oh, damn, it’s you. What, did you forget a dig? Was there one more thing you wanted to say about my intelligence or background or perhaps you’d like to move on to my parentage or social status now." Ralph colored again as he said this, the sting of earlier this evening revisiting itself on him as she stood there.

"No, Ralph, that is your name, isn’t it? That’s not my intention at all. I had hoped you found my message in your confab program and would show up at the hospitality suite in the note."

Ralph looked confused for a second, then reached over to the empty chair across the table to retrieve the program.

"May I?" she asked, gesturing toward the now empty chair.

"Sure, please. Sit down," he mumbled as he opened the booklet and leafed through it. He paused at a page and read it silently for a moment.

"I’m really sorry about this afternoon. If you had any idea how often I get hit on in a day, you’d be shocked. But I did intend to make it up to you this evening. I’m just glad that when you didn’t show up where I hoped you would, that I’d be able to find you. And here you are. So… apology accepted?"

Ralph looked at her for a moment, then back down at the note she had written in his program.

"Sorry I had to act that way. I’d enjoy really meeting you like a normal human being after I finish my shift with registration. I’ll be in suite 2411 after 9pm. It’s one of the hospitality suites, but it’s not listed in the program because of a printing error. I hope to meet you there. We’ll start all over from the beginning, okay?

Cecily ‘Frannie’"

"Um, so, well…"

She looked at him with just a little bit of concern, hoping he wouldn’t send her away. The look was not lost on Ralph, who looked at her reflection in the black glass and took another sip of his drink.

"My name is Ralph Maravilla. Nice to meet you. And your name?"

She looked visibly relieved. She let out a sigh, extended her hand and said "Cecily. Cecily Wright. I’m very pleased to meet you, Ralph."

She blushed sweetly when he took her hand and held it for a moment. How exactly does one shake hands with a lady anyway, he pondered. After a moment, he rubbed his thumb up the back of her hand and released it. She looked down at the table for a second and smiled as she placed her hands into her lap under the table.

"So, Cecily, when you’re not sitting at a folding table surrounded by overeager men in a convention center, what do you do?" Ralph motioned to the waitress and finished the last few drops of his Scotch.

"Well, I work at a family business, just a little place out on the east side of Dallas. It’s really small, nothing impressive or anything. But I like it and it pays okay. I’m only working there until I get my degree. Then I hope to go to Virginia and get a job."

"What sort of degree are you working toward? I have friends in Virginia, and, well, you never know, maybe they’ll have a position you might be interested in. When the time comes, you know."

"Oh, it’s nothing you’d be interested in. Really. It’s kind of a new degree, something they don’t offer too many places. But it interested me so I thought I’d try it."

The waitress walked up and Ralph pointed at his glass. She nodded and looked at Ceciliy. "Oh, uh, double Stoli vanilla, chilled no ice. Rocks glass, please." As the waitress walked away she continued, "I ended up really taking to the course work and just loving it." Ralph looked at her quizzically. "I’m studying Forensic Counter Terrorism down in Austin. Yes, I know, it‘s a new field, and it‘s so reactionary. Believe me, I hear it all the time down at UT, but screw the airheads down there. They have absolutely no clue when it comes to what‘s going on now."

Ralph just smiled at her. "Oh, so you think it’s funny for a woman with no background in criminal justice to go into something like that? Or maybe it’s because I’ve never been military? Or is it because ‘this is man’s work, little missy, leave it to the men’? Believe me, I get enough of that at home, I don’t need it from you," and she started to get up from her chair.

"No, no, please, sit down. That’s not what I was thinking at all. Please. Tell me more." Ralph gave her his best look of contrition, which was difficult to do with a grin.

"Well, really, that’s about all. I mean, I don’t live an extraordinarily exciting life. I study all week and work all weekend with the family. Other than my silly little blog, I don’t do much else. If I didn’t know Beth through her blog, and DokRussia through his, I wouldn’t really know anyone here. But Beth asked me to help out, and she’s been so kind to me, so I couldn’t say no." She paused momentarily as the waitress set their drinks down and walked away. "How about you, Ralph Maravilla? Who are you, and don’t try that line again or I’ll kick you under the table."

"Well, I know Beth, too. I used to chat with her almost every evening in the old Loyal Citizens chat room while I was in high school . I met a lot of good people in that room, including my friend Bill, who you met earlier. He and I made a pact that when we graduated from high school we’d go off and join the army together and go to airborne school, which we did. We were Airborne for eight years, served overseas for a lot of it. The war on terror was slowing down overseas, and they didn’t need as many of us nuts with crappy knees as they did before, so when our enlistments were up last year, we were allowed out."

"Airborne? I’m impressed. Halo jumping and the whole thing?"

"Halo jumping and the whole thing. I loved it. I kinda hated leaving it, but I found something I like just as much, and I keep my skills up on my own. Found a nice little jump school where I can go and jump when I feel the need to freefall. Now I just do what I feel like doing, when I feel like doing it." He stopped to take a sip of his drink, and watched as she drank her vodka. She really is pretty, he thought. I’d do her.

"Anyway, I do a little security work and live here in Dallas. I get to travel a little, meet interesting people. It’s a good life for a single guy with no attachments." He watched her finish her vodka and wondered where she learned to drink like that. Or maybe, he thought, she doesn’t drink like that and isn’t used to it. One can only hope. He finished his drink too, and asked if she would like another.

"No, not now. The drinks here are much too expensive. Why don’t you come with me to the hospitality suite and we can see what we find in there. Some of them have bars in them. Well, informal bars anyway. Depends on who set up the suite."

"Oh, I see. And who set up this suite, the one that isn’t in the program?"

Cecily stood and smiled at him. "Well, I suppose you could say I did."

Ralph stood and pulled a twenty from his wallet to lay on the table. He reached down beside his chair to pick up his bags and turned to follow her into the elevator. She looked down at his bags and smiled. "Good. We won’t have to stop off and pick them up."

She pushed the button to the 24th floor, and as the doors closed, stepped in front of him and back to lean against him. When she turned her head and looked up at him, he bent down and very lightly, very gently kissed her lips. He felt her hand reach up and touch the side of his neck, soft and tentative, and he lowered his face back to hers and kissed him again, just so slightly more insistent than the first kiss. Her response, too, was measured and her fingertips brushed gently through the hair on the back of his head.

They felt the elevator begin to slow, so Cecily slid across him to stand beside him before the door opened. As it opened, she slipped her arm around his and they stepped out into the hall. At the end of the hall, she retrieved her electronic key from the tiny leather bag she carried, and ran it through the reader. As the mechanism clicked and the door opened, she took his arm again and led him into the room.

Ralph stopped andset his bags into the closet area next to her bag. When he stepped out into the main room, she had lit a few small candles arranged on the standard issue hotel table, and was sitting in one of the chairs. She looked even more enticing in the warm glow, and he stopped for a moment just to look at her. She smiled but said nothing as he crossed past the bed to the table. He noticed it had been turned down invitingly, and the candlelight flickered across the smooth white sheets.

I can do this slow. I can do ’romantic,’ he thought. I can take all night. He sat down in the empty chair and accepted the drink she poured for him. She picked up her glass and raised it toward him.

"To Beth, for befriending us both. Without her, neither of us would be here."

"To Beth," he repeated. "And to second chances." They each quickly and wordlessly finished the vodka in their glasses then stood to reach for each other in the candlelight.

Colts vs. Patriots

4:30 EST and the game begins. With it is the opportunity for St. Peyton and his band in blue to overcome a record in Massechusets that is currently 0-6.

Do I think they can win? Absolutely. They have been playing well, they are well and fit, and they certainly have earned the right to be where they are. But will they? Only time will tell.

Personally, I'd love to see them pull a win out of this, not just to advance in the playoffs, but to rid themselves of the reasons, psychological or whatever, that have prevented them from winning against the Patriots in their stadium.

I don't know who is favored or what the spread is. I only know that if visualization were a factor, they would have no problem. Indianapolis is fired up, but in an interestingly intense and somewhat quiet way.

It will all be decided soon. I will be at the Parental Estate to watch. If not for the oxygen system my dad uses, I would have candles lit and probably even carry my mojo bag. As it is, I'll have to be satisfied with chips and diet Coke. No chicken bones and talisman. It weirds them out just a bit, and I can imagine the letter I'd get back from the Progeny's teacher when she hears about that on Tuesday.

Visualize Colts Victory. And if that doesn't appear to be making a difference, just yell like hell.

Such cute little vermin

Ah, into each life the unexpected must fall, and when you have a 10 yr old who loves animals, those falling things tend to be warm-blooded and furry with cute little faces.

Case in point: Progeny has been asking for a ferret for months. The Grandparents take her with them for their daily mall walk, and when they go to Castleton Square mall across town, they always take Progeny into the petshop to see the puppies. Sadly and frustratingly, puppies are not the only beasties they sell in this place. They also have what are typically called by the trade "small mammals" or "small critters" and this catagory includes ferrets.

I am not a ferret fan. Sure, they have cute little faces if you like that beady-eyed weasel kind of thing. Yes, they are frisky, as they move with a gate something akin to "Anaconda Meets Kangaroo Jack." Of course, they can be litterbox trained, as long as you provide a litterbox in each and every corner of your house. Certainly, they groom themselves and they are clean, and as long as you have the musk glands ripped from their bodies surgically they don't smell much. But I'm still not a ferret fan.

But Progeny just would not take no for an answer. She sent various letters to Santa over the course of the Christmas season asking for a ferret, but specifying that it needed to be deposited at Gramma's house instead of at our house. She went into the petstore at every opportunity in an attempt to cajole the underpaid teenagers at the cash register to just let her buy one for a riduculously low price and throw in the cage and other ferret essentials just because she was such a cute and sweet young child pre-teen. She offered me, of all people, her entire savings as a bribe to let Santa drop one off at our house, and given the financial situation at the Manse Montezz, that was a difficult one to pass up. But I did. I'm her mom. I had to be strong. But it still hurt to turn down that bribe.

Needless to say, Santa did not stop at Ferret Island to pick up the sweetest and most loving ferret in the world for Progeny. For this alone, I owe Santa some rather kinky favors over the next year.

Progeny took it in stride. She understood that she wasn't going to get a ferret any time soon, but she still wanted something sweet and cute and cuddly to pet and carry around and burden with a crazed, juvenile name. The cats and the dogs just were not enough.

Enter Dumpling and Cecily.

While we were in the Petsmart getting grub for the Wonder Dogs, Progeny went looking vainly for ferrets. None could be found, but there, in the bottom tank of the Small Critters section were a pair of young female "small domestic rats" with black heads and shoulders, white from there back, and a stripe of black down the centers of their backs. I looked at them, they looked at me, and something terrible happened, something that Spousal Unit to this day does not believe happened, something completely against my rodent-o-phobic tendencies: I asked to hold one.

The Critter keeper reached into the tank and selected the rat that walked over to her. She picked it up, carried it out of the small, shack-like thing within the Critter area, and handed me this rat. It looked at me (it had blue eyes, by the way), I looked at it, it wiggled its whiskers at me (to which I could not respond in kind because I had tweezed that afternoon), and then crawled up and sniffed my chin.

We had a moment, this rat and I, a moment from which I have yet to recover. My mind raced, my heart pounded, and the little rat literally snuggled itself between my hound-dog-ear breasts and curled up in my hand...

The cage sits on my kitchen table. The cats are obsessed with Dumpling (Progeny's rat) and Cecily (my rat), and Spousal Unit is having a really rough time dealing with the idea of "vermin" inhabiting our house as guests and not as prey for the felines.

*sigh* Yes, I have a bandaid on my knuckle now from a fear-bite, but they're just babies (8-10 weeks) and they haven't been handled enough, to that's the price I have to pay until they are socialized better and understand that I'm not the boogie-mama.

Any rat tips? I could use them. I'll post pix when I get around to it.

They're Called Bouncing Babies for a Reason...

I predict nothing but a series of playground ass-whoopin's for any child forced to wear the contraptions shown on this site...

via Michelle Malkin

Around The Sphere

Take a jog around the Blogoshpere and you will find some interesting things.

SlagleRock has a wild story about Marine Cpl Wassef Ali Hassoun who was charged with desertion in Iraq deserting a second time!

Delftsman has a couple of great jokes and anecdotes if you need a laugh.

Over at the Rott, Sir George, smacks around the UN, yet again and BC gives us a further update on Marine Deserter Hassoun

Blackfive has an amazing story about a sniper credited with the longest confirmed kill in Iraq, more than 1,000 yards.

Need more? There are tons of great bloggers in the gutter on the right, take your pick!

SlagleRock Out!

Red Hats?

If I ever go out and buy a purple dress and a red hat, someone please do an intervention. Be cruel to be kind. Take me into the back yard, pour gasoline on them, and make me strike the match.

This whole thing bunch of cackling hens is just one more reason why I prefer the company of men and independent women to most other women. Sure, you can accuse bloggers of "group think" but damn, what else can you call women who apparently are so unsure of their own fashion sense that they feel the need to dress in a freaking "Uniform" for crying out loud.

Give me my jeans and clogs any day. And if I feel the need to wear a hat, I'll wear a boonie.

Update: Seems we have located a photo of the Jacksonville, FL chapter in their Sunday Finest. Too many Mimosas or Bloody Marys at brunch, it looks to me. Who knew they wore purple undies with their purple dresses? Hope their elderly, pussy-whipped husbands have their clothes.

Decisions, decisions...

Do I go to Dallas in March to meet the Lone Star State's Texas Bloggers, or do I go to Jekyl Island in April for the Spring Jawja Blogfest? It's a difficult decision.

I can drive to either place in about 15 hours (including the obligatory coffee and coffee-release stops) so we're talking an overnight roadtrip either way. And I'd have help, because the Spousal Unit wants to come along and can split the driving.

I believe that I could find lodging in either place, but who sleeps at these things anyway? Hell, I can sleep in the car if I have to, in the small time between periods of drunken debauchery and periods of shit-shooting. Like I said, who sleeps at these things?

With an average range of about 300 miles per tank of gas, I can do either trip with 6 fill-ups, so the cost is a lot less than flying. Round trips to either place come out to just over $250 per person. I can buy enough gas for both of us for what one airline ticket costs.

The 1986 Toyota pick-up would make it easily, and all it needs is brakes and a new back tire. And the old 1984 Tempo would make it too, and all it needs is an exhaust pipe. Okay, it needs a whole new exhaust system. I believe the 1984 Grand Prix would make it, but Spousal Unit isn't so sure.

I can do one, I can't do both. It's a quandry. The devils bloggers I know, or the devils bloggers I don't know? I'll have to give this a lot of thought. Truth to the matter is, I won't be going to either one. There just isn't any way under the current circumstances, but it sure is nice to think about.

Resolutions?

Well, seems just about everyone is putting up resolutions. It is the day for it, afterall. I'm afraid some of my resolutions would anger some people and hurt others, so I'll refrain from posting them. This does not, by any stretch of the imagination, mean that I have not made the aforementioned resolutions, merely that they are not for public consumption...yet.

There are a few I will share with you, however. Pretty mundane stuff, mind you, but it is New Years Day, and it's kind of some unwritten rule in these parts.

1. I will work harder. If I need to get a second job, something part time in the mornings, I will do it. Even a half shift after I leave the Real Job™ at 10:30 would be do-able. Anything, at this point, is better than the way I am living now.

2. I will not be such a soft-hearted idiot. It's one thing to be kind and do for others, but not do instead of others... You know what I mean?

3. Anna will be the focus of my life, not me. She deserves what I can give her, not the other way around.

4. No more whining and bitching on my blog. I'm not a bitter person, and I'm not going to let the blog become a rage-ridden, egomaniacal cesspool of constant, self-pitying bullshit. You want a bitter, rage-ridden, egomaniacal cesspool, I can draw you a map, but it isn't here.

5. I'm going to love harder, sweeter, and more adventurously than at any time in the past. I will accept the pleasures offered to me and do so without guilt. Feel like tagging along, then don't miss the train.

6. I will whelp as many new blogs as possible. There are some amazing people lurking in the comments here and a lot of other places who have more to say than they bloggers they frequent. I believe it's time for the blogosphere verson of a Polar Shift, and I want to be right in the middle of it.

I think that's enough for now.

What's up?

Well, I am having a much deserved day off today and plan on doing a little catching up around here. The blog novel is perking right along at just under 10,000 words and is mid-chapter on chapter 4 now. The few people who have seen it, with one notable exception, are enjoying it which is a good sign. Even one of my co-workers who wouldn't know a blog if it walked up and pimp slapped her is having fun reading it, so it seems to appeal to at least one non-blogger as well as to bloggers. Perhaps in another chapter or two I'll publish a link.

Old Scratch has a great link up right now that anyone who loves jets needs to go view. Be kind, though, and do the "Right-Click-Save-As" routine and save the old boy some bandwidth. You'll be glad you saved it, since then you can watch it over and over, again and again. Amazing piece from GrouchyMedia.com, where a veritable plethora of visual goodies is available. If you've never gone there, believe me you'll like what you see.

Acidman is busy being the gracious host we all know him to be. Daughter and S.O are visiting and being shown a great time.

I'm under an extreme Spam Attack right now. The email alerts from this piece of crap are coming in faster than bullets in Fallujah while I'm typing this. I've never had this happen before, so this is more than a little disconcerting. I think this slime has hit every post in my archives to drop his poker-spam. HELP!!!

Oh, for crying out loud! Make this shit stop! That makes about 50 right now! Sons of bitches!

How do I add that little "enter what you see" thing to my comment??? Please, someone help!

Update: A knight in shining armor just rode up! Well, I actually waylaid him in IM, but that's not important. Now, if I can get the blacklist to work, I'll be inbusiness. In the meantime, be patient. Comments may be down for a sec, since I'm not as good at this as I'd like to be and goodness only knows what kind of stuff I'll screw up trying to get this right.

Oh, my goodness.

Seem's I have attracted the attention of the prince of darkness. He's all full of himself over the Indonesian quake and giving himself "high fives" over the Tsunami. This could get ugly.

Gee, I wonder how I ended up on his blogroll. Must have been something I did in Jawja... Hmmm...

Whew... *sigh*

Well, Christmas weekend is finally over and I was treated to a day off. I slept in a bit, blogged nekid, built a new blog for someone (don't ask, don't tell), got a snarky comment from law enforcement. All in all it's been a quiet day.

The progeny is with my parentals, spending some time with the elderly mall-walker set. Her cousin is down from Hartford City for a few days, so the rising, pre-pubescent hormones must be driving them and my poor mother nuts. For the most part, my dad is pretty oblivious. He just turns down the hearing aids and turns up the television and all is right with the world.

Spousal Unit finally turned in his Social Security Disability paperwork, so in about 120 days we will get our first refusal. Then it's a call to the contingency lawyer and we start all over again. I'm hopeful that the bypass, the adult onset diabetes, and the mini-stroke in his optic nerve will get it for him on the first try, but I'm not getting too optimistic. I know how this works, so there are no delusions.

Mortgage payment made in full today, too. Officially caught up! Do I hear an "Amen"? As soon as the January payment is made, I hope to be able to do an automatic deduction every two weeks of half a payment, so that we end up making an extra payment each year. It will also take a great deal of stress off the budget to be able to make two half-payments a month instead of losing an entire paycheck to it in one fell swoop. I can use any little help I can get at this point, and that would be a tremendous one.

The novel is trundling right along. I would like to start chapter 3 tonight or tomorrow. With the growing awareness of blogging and bloggers, I hope to actually get this published. We'll see. Hell, if J.K.Rowling can write on napkins at a sidewalk coffee shop and end up with Harry Potter, why can't our merry little team of bloggers do the same with this? I just hope that no one included in the book decides they don't want to be included. It's all a homage to our friends, and I hope it is seen as such. In the meantime, Doggerel, inject something or I'll be off on another tangent quick.

Well, I'm going to finish this post and my cigarette and head to the parentals' to save them from Progeny. I'll see some of you in chat later this evening, and the rest of you in my comments. Have a good evening. Stay warm. Pray for the folks who need it, whether they realize it or not.

Merry Christmas

Well, it was an inevitability so I was actually prepared for it this year.

Because of staffing and attendance, I will be spending a lovely Christmas day nestled in the warm bosom of my place of employment. No, this is not a complaint, merely a statement of fact.

A hospital never closes for weekends or holidays. It never sleeps, never takes vacations, never stops doing what it does. And someone has to staff it.

So I will be sitting in my dark blue office chair, headset on, logged into the computer network and the telephone system, performing my duties as pleasantly and efficiently as possible. And no one who calls in for information on a loved one, or to contact another employee similarly situated will ever be aware that I am missing Christmas with my family.

If anything, my enthusiasm and humor will mask any disappointment.

Yes, someone has to be here. It may as well be me.

White Christmas

That classic old movie is on today. You know, it has been a favorite of mine for as long as I remember, and when I received my very first VCR for Christmas one year, I made it a point to find a copy of that movie. It has been a part of the video library for as long as I have had VCRs and I still dig it out and watch it, spring, summer, fall or winter.

I certainly hope it comes on again before the season's over. Love that movie.

Why, why, why?

Why is this woman's blog still a "Slithering Reptile"? Could it be because not enough people have put her in their blogrolls? Surely not, since I know all of my readers enjoy a good read, and all of you have her linked...

Don't you?

Oh, My, Queenie!

I just hustled over to Queenie's place, Inblognito, and had a solid smack of nostalgia right across my ample behind. I'm still laughing.

Queenie's not for the faint of heart, women who are nursing, those with diagnosed coronary artery disease, nuns, Baptist ministers, or members of the Kiwanis. But the rest of you, if you don't have her in your blogrolls, you're missing a gen-u-ine treat. She's kinda like me, but with no filter and a much more interesting past. Well, more interesting than the stuff I'll admit to on a blog anyway.

And *sigh* she loves me! And it's mutual. If she's not at the next Jawja Blogmeet I'm able to attend, I will be soooo disappointed.

Bunny Break

A Day of Infamy

Today is December 7th.

If you do not know the significance of this day, you are either an uneducated moron, or a culturally liberal boob.

Either way, I hope you get rectal cancer, causing your own filth and shame to run down your legs as you die slowly.

Breaking News

Hans Blix Declares Chemical Labs Actually Fuel Research Facilities

Hans Blix announced today that the chemical laboratories found in Fallujah during the recent joint operation by the Iraqi National Guard and US Marines were actually a legitimate labs involved in highly specialized alternative fuels research.

"I have it on very good authority from representatives of the Jordanian, Syrian, Saudi and Egyptian UN delegations that these laboratories and many others like them across Iraq are studying very volatile alternate fuel sources," stated former UN weapons inspector Blix at a morning press conference in Paris.

According to his sources, several nations have been actively exploring alternate fuels. Blix pointed out that it makes "perfect sense for oil-rich nations to vigorously pursue these programs." By developing these fuels and patenting them, oil producing nations could effectively block their use from the world market and protect their collective impact on the global economy.

"We have it on very good authority that the Iraqi alternative fuels program, under the direction of Dr. Zarquawi, has made great strides and has actually begun vehicular testing of some of these fuels." Blix went on to commend the "brave test drivers" of these vehicles, calling them "Martyrs of Technology."

"In their quest for scientific knowledge, these brave young men from many nations have willingly converged upon Iraq, willing to load these test vehicles with unstable fuels and drive the roads of Iraq under dangerous conditions. Many have died for their efforts in fiery explosions, often taking the lives of innocent bystanders with them." Blix went on to criticize coalition commanders for labeling these failed experiments as "acts of terror."

"Science is a very risky endeavor. These experiments are costly in terms of human life. But to look at these brave fellows as terrorists is nothing less than an attempt by the United States to legitimize their illegal aggression against the nation of Iraq."

When questioned about the highly explosive nature of the chemicals found, and the written instructions for producing "Bombs," Blix chided, "So they said it was the bomb. Is that not an American hippity-hop slang term for something that is incredibly good?"

On hearing Hans Blix's remarks, Vice President Dick Cheney was so overcome with laughter that his Secret Service detail requested medical assistance. He was transported to Walter Reed Army Hospital as a precautionary measure for observation. He is also said to be undergoing treatment of Dr. Pepper burns in his nostrils.

Hanson - Pure Genius

NOOOO!! I'm not talking about the girlish trio of boys who MMM-bopped their way into the hearts of Delftsman and Frank J... I'm talking about a pure political genius. Victor David Hanson. If you've never heard of him, it's never too late to start experiencing a truly wonderful political mind.

I like to write. When I wrote on a regular basis (many years ago), I was a pretty decent writer, but even at my best, I'll never be a 1/4th of the writer VDH is...

Here is but a taste of his brilliance:

Do we now remember the impassable peaks, the snowy haunts of the Taliban that were too high for us, or Kabul, the dreaded graveyard of all imperial expeditions? It was just a few months ago, it seems now, that we were admonished about the fury of retaliation to come for daring to fight during Ramadan, the impossibility of working with a nuclear and Islamic Pakistan, and the Wild West nature of Afghanistan's tribes so impossible to forge into the stuff of consensual government. And it was worse still than all that: the cries on the hard left of millions of refugees to come; the European warning about thousands of dead from indiscriminate American bombing; the need to adjudicate 9/11 by jurisprudence rather than arms; and the crazy conspiracy theories of pipelines, neo-cons, 'Jews,' Likuds, and CIA plots.

Yes, we remember all of it...preach on brother!

Have we forgotten what foul and cowardly folk the Taliban were — thugs who lynched women, shot homosexuals, blew up civilization's icons, destroyed a century of culture in Afghanistan, promised us death and worse, and then ran out of town in the clothes of women with what plunder they could carry? Do any of us recall the brave Afghans and Americans, both the planners in Washington who were libeled and the soldiers in the field who routed these butcherers?

You can sure as hell bet some of us never will.

Now, get yer buttz over to there and read!

Vote or Die Branding to Expand

P. Diddy, Sean "Puffy" Combs announced today that his design corporation will be expanding his controversial and largely irrelevant "Vote or Die" brand to include other desperately losing civic and political causes.

Umbrella Man, acting as a spokesman for the Combs Corporation, stated during a press conference Thursday that several groups had expressed an interest in the "_or Die" branding during the ill-fated 2004 Kerry campaign.

"Even though only 17% of the young actually turned of their televisions and crawled out of their mother's basements to vote on November 2nd, we still managed to sell freaking tons of those overpriced, cheap-assed, Chinese Slave Camp produced, crappy T-shirts. We made a mint!"

Umbrella Man continued, "Vote or Die spoke to the youth, the underachievers, the slackers and delinquents, even the Anarchy Activists. Because of this, we intend to extend the brand to include other issues, as to appropriate, assimilate, excoriate and celebrate all kinds of losing causes world wide."

Available at the press conference were samples of shirts for some of the causes already contracted with Combs. Included in the list are such campaigns as "Toke or Die" (NORML), "Libertarian or Die," "Palestinian State or Die," "Free Saddam or Die," and "Hillary in 2008 or Die."

Legal Challenge to Wizbang 2004 Blog Awards

In a shocking move, a group of lawyers lead by former Vice Presidential candidate John Edwards announced today that they have initiated a series of lawsuits alleging voting irregularities and wholesale disenfranchisement in the 2004 Weblog Awards.

"The very idea that the furthest fringe element of our nations greatest crop of progressive bloggers was completely disenfranchised is deeply wrong," stated Spazbot Moonray Jones, spokesperson for the legal team involved in the suits.

"Not only were blogs by brilliantly mediocre Progressives horribly under represented in the Milblog category, there were none at all in the Best Conservative Blog category. We find this morally reprehensible and just another example of the fascist behavior of the Right Wing Nuts and VRWC types who are conducting this bogus poll."

Representatives for Wizbang, host of the popular annual awards, stated that they would not dignify the allegations with a response. They went on to add that "blood cannot be produced from either turnips or stones in spite of current IRS policies."

Several conservative bloggers, on finding out about the lawsuits, were reported by witnesses to have laughed themselves to the point of helplessness.

There has been no confirmation of the rumor that conservative bloggers were so amused at the situation that several laptop computers and a wireless keyboard required replacing, or that at least one blogger was forced to return to his home with hygiene and wardrobe issues.

Easy Rider He Ain't

Val, over at Bablublog, posts a detailed chronicle of follies pertaining to the *ahem* great revolutionary Che Guevara.

Ouch! Pow! Zowie! Delinked!

When I checked my inbound links last night, I almost cried. Somehow, over the course of the weekend, I had lost just about 200 unique links as counted by TTLB. But the link totals at Technorati strangely hadn't changed at all. It was overwhelming, confusing and gave me quite a jolt.

Had I offended someone (or a huge mass of someones)? Was my picture frightening away the bloggers with impressionable children or sensitive pets? Worse yet, had I been found out as a fraud, a charlatan, a pretender to the ranking of Large Mammal? Where once I could go for a daily fix of self esteem, I now found naught but a kick in the ample posterior.

Sure, like any blogger I can count on losing links once in a while as people either grow bored with my inane and self-centered chatter, or in some high and mighty snit over any number of incompatible beliefs, stands or theories, even over some silly and ultimately inconsequential perceived slights. That just comes with the territory. But 200? Practically overnight? With no warning? Not even a kiss afterward?

Okay, so I'm a Drama Queen™ of the first order. I freely admit it. Actually, that tends to be one of my more endearing qualities. That and the fact that I once was able to place-kick a football accurately at about 30 yards and do it consistently while under the influence of adult beverages.

Distraught and dismayed, I snagged Russ Emerson of TacJammer in the Loyal Citizens chat and asked if maybe BlogsForBush in it's new incarnation was having a problems with it's massive blogroll, since it was pretty clear that I was far from being the only blogger affected by this massive de-linking. And it was Russ, with his infinite wisdom and superior intellect who knew right off top of his extremely attractive and currently available head that the Blogrolling service was having a problem.

*heavy sigh of relief*

You know, though, as disconcerting as it was to see that many links just vanish into the ether, it was much more disgusting to see how pathetically I had glommed onto the entire Ranking=Worth, Gee I Wanna Be A Big Dog, Link-me-Link-me-Link-me mentality. How shallow and self serving is that?

Does anyone know of a 12-step program for link whores? Could I have the URL? Better yet, can I have my links back?

Yes, it's true.

As Steve said, like two ping-pong balls at the ends of a pair of tube socks. Increasingly elongated tube socks, I might add. Were other women have "knockers" I have "floppers".

Mammalial appendages like hound dog ears: flat and long and will flap in the wind. One of the reasons I avoid Florida during hurricaine season.

Thus ends our moment of sharing.

Uh-Oh...

Looks like I may be in trouble.

"Why can't we go to the children's museum, mommy?"

The great Goddess Art, and her grand temples, the Museums, truly do
seem to be for none but the elite these days. Where here in Indianapolis you can enter and enjoy the permanent collection of the Indianapolis Museum of Art for nothing but a free-will donation or small nominal fee at the door, at New York's Museum of Modern Art you now must pay the recently increased admission fee of $20 for the permanent exhibit, not to mention the additional admission charges for travelling exhibits. And people just are not happy about it.

We were just discussing a similar situation the other day while driving past the impressive exterior of the Indianapolis Childrens Museum. I said to the Spousal Unit as we sped along on Illinois Street that I was certainly glad that Progeny was sound asleep in the backseat. Had she been awake, she would surely have seen the lifesized dinosaur erupting from the block wall of the Dinosphere, prompting yet another discussion of the current state of our family fiscal health.

True, it's not what you could call an art museum, but it's a great and wonderous place for children and those who are still a child at heart. Science, arts, a fully restored carousel, one of the largest electric train displays compiled, a restored steam locomotive, a full dinosaur ecosphere complete with full sized dinosaurs and a carefully concocted approximation of fresh dino-poop just to bring even your olfactory senses into the experience. At one point there was a limestone cave, at another a fossil dig, and let's not forget the mummy in the ornate case, or the huge hands-on hall of science.

But try to take a family there. Most of us will never be able to afford a membership, so we must pay the retail ticket prices. Currently those are $11.50 for an adult, $10.50 if you are a senior citizen, and $6.50 for a child between 2 yrs old and 17 yrs old. This will get you into the museum and get you access to the bulk of the exhibits. So now we're at $30.50, and all we've done is walk in the door.

But say your child has seen the lifesized dinosaurs in the Dinosphere and just HAS to have one to take home. Well, of course there's the museum gift shop. I suppose you could get her a t-shirt with the dinosaur parade embellishment on the front. It's only $19.95, since you're not a member. We're now at $50.45, and all we have are three ticket stubs and a t-shirt.

Walking has made you all hungry, and Progeny is getting a bit cranky from lack of sustenance. Well, they have a food court complete with Starbucks and McDonalds, Pizza Hut, Charleston Market (think Boston Market), and a deli. When last the Spousal unit went, a small spinach salad cost him $8.00, and we all know how expensive Starbucks can be.

So, let's estimate that it takes another $5.00 per person to eat. We're now talking $65.45, and that's only if don't end up with one of Progeny's playmates along, manage to keep impulse buying to a minimum, and keep everyone on the McDonalds value menu.

How many families, particularly those with more than one child, can truly afford to spend that much money on a one day experience with any sort of frequency? I can tell you the last time I was in the Children's Museum with my daughter: Progeny was still in a stroller. Big Sis was in high school.

So it isn't just Art that seems to be only for the elite sometimes. Even what should be so simple a pleasure as watching your child experience new and wonderous things in a fantastic place can seem a rather elitist thing as well.

Folks you need to know

There is an old maxim associated with the armed forces that is more fact than fiction: no man left behind. And for the veterans of Indianapolis and the surrounding area, this is especially true.

The Fort Harrison Veterans Center, operated primarily by Chapter 295 of the Vietnam Veterans of America, provides assistance to veterans, regardless of branch or conflict. Where for two years there was once a vacant building, there is now a facility which provides help for the area's disadvantaged vets, as well as active duty personnel and their families.

The many groups currently housed at the Fort Harrison Veterans Center also try to help the soldiers still serving overseas and the families they've left back home. This past summer, the VVA took the families of an Indiana regiment in Afghanistan to a ball game at Victory Field and has held a cookout. The VVA made a DVD of the event and sent it overseas so soldiers could get at least some small feeling of being home. The gesture was well appreciated.

"We got letters from guys overseas that appreciated it," [Gene] Gigli said. "We've experienced what they're going through and wanted to let them know we cared."

No man left behind. Take a moment to read this story of, to paraphrase Blackfive, Some People you need to know.

Pre-Season Musings

I was asking the Nephew yesterday if they still had a Santa who made appearances at the Base Exchange during the Christmas season, and it got me to thinking about Christmas this year.

Anna is understandably a big fan of Christmas and it's most visible symbol, Santa Clause. From a very early age, she loved the whole Santa thing, and for all but that first encounter with the Bearded One, she has had no problem settling into his lap and whispering her secret wishes into the ears below the edge of the fur-trimmed hat.

I'm afraid this will be the last Santa's Lap year for her, though. She wants to believe so badly, but takes quite an amount of ridicule for it at school and from her older and more worldly 11 yr old cousin Mariah. She has written and re-written her letter to Santa several times over the last month or so, and in almost every one she asks for Pawpaw Jake and all of her fallen pets to come back home from heaven. We've told her this just isn't going to happen, any more than the magical appearance of a Ferret and cage under the tree at Gramma's will happen, but she continues to start each letter that way.

Gramma and Grampa have already started rearranging the front room to accommodate the tree, which has become more eccentric each of the last several years, culminating in the addition of several rather large plush Santas and Snowmen last season. It's nothing if not a festive tree. The kids love it, up to and including the biggest kid, "Grampa." Yes, it was at his instance that the fuzzy toys were added to the tree. They make him happy. Mom just rolls her eyes and shakes her head and smiles at him. I guess after 48 years of being married, she has the right to roll her eyes at him.

I suppose I'll have to break down and dig out the little white tree with the fiber optic twinkles, and load it down with shimmer and shine some day next week. It sits nicely on the coffee table or atop the old, antique RCA Victor stereo in the tall mahogany cabinet. I might even dig a string of those Icicle lights out of the basement and find a way to hang it over the curtain rod in the living room to frame the little tree and give the room a glow.

Decorating for Christmas was never something I really enjoyed doing because eventually you are forced to reverse the process, but I do love both making little holiday gee-gaws and having the decorations up and lit. I can't tell you the number of trees I have decorated with specific color or a particular look, then put them in boxes and maybe not use that particular tree for a couple of years. I have one now, naked and waiting, that is really only half a tree for hanging on the wall. I just haven't decided exactly how I want it to look yet.

I have until Thanksgiving to decide exactly what I want to do. Somehow, it just seems right to put up the tree on the Friday after the Feast of Outrageous Consumption. To be marginally woozy from left-over turkey, mashed potatoes, and sweet concord wine, and climbing up on the step stool to retrieve boxes of ornaments and lights seems to be the perfect way to spend that Friday. It's much better than dealing with crowds at the malls and big-box outlets.

Just an Innocent Observation

A co-worker and I were talking about the Marine shooting incident and he reminded me of an old WWI story I had forgotten about...

But first...let's put things in perspective:

Marines fight insurgents.

Insurgents play dead, blow up Marines.

One Marine takes no chance, shoots wounded insurgent.

Liberals and MSM release bowels, cry war crime.

Now...ponder this little tidbit:

Henry Tandey, a British infantryman, finds a wounded enemy soldier.

Tandey, being an honorable man, spares the life of his wounded enemy.

Wounded enemy soldier recovers, survives WWI.

The soldier returns home...
Takes over his country...
Invades Poland...
Plunges the world into a devestating war...
Thanks Henry Tandey by bombing Britain relentlessly...
Kills millions of Jews...

So much for a noble British soldier's good intentions.

I'm slowly coming under the impression that this young Marine has done us all a big favor...maybe I'm over-generalizing...but then again...

Cathy's World

One of the best quotes I've read today:

A disappointed Kerry-voter asked me in frustration the other day if I'd rather people with red state values be in charge of Hollywood content. Of course not! I don't want George Bush writing sitcoms any more than I want Sean Penn writing foreign policy. But if Sean Penn and friends don't want someone like Bush elected next time, they might try skipping those "fact-finding" trips to Baghdad and visit Middle America instead.

You have to just love this. Take my advice and go read this woman's blog. I had never seen it before, but there was a hit from in my Sitemeter listing. I wandered over there and I was amused and impressed.

I don't think you'll be disappointed by what you see. Cathy's World needs to have a place in your reads.

Sad Little Man

This has not been a good month for the North Korean dictator. Kim Jong Il's favorite consort has died, and he's in seclusion. Add to that, John Kerry lost the election on November 2nd. Think that hasn't had an effect on him?

"The loss of this woman was a blow," said a foreign diplomat.

"But (US Democratic candidate) John Kerry's loss in the US election was a harder one. These are now very worried men."

They've cut off phone service from foreigners, and the secret police have taken over cellular service. How much of this is from mourning, and how much is fear of what could happen next in the War on Terror? Time will tell.

One year Blogiversary in Iraq

I hear from the Left side all the time that we have "no business" being in Iraq; it's a "quagmire", and we are only engendering hatred towards us by being there.

To all of those doomsayers and self-hating LLL's I can only say, ask the Iraqi's themselves.

It is the one year Blogaversary of Iraq the Model and the authors of the blog have posted how they feel about the events of the last year.

I challenge any of the left to read that and say that there is not a new feeling of hope, and that what they are seeing in the MSM isn't biased against the US efforts there. Yes it's only three people and their friends, but add a number of other Iraqi blogs, and almost all of the blogs of our Soldiers, Marines, and Airmen there on the ground, and you start seeing a whole different picture from that given in the MSM and from the Left side of the political spectrum.

None of these sources say that's it's easy, or that all will soon be sweetness and light, in fact they all make the point that these are hard, dirty, dangerous times, and there is no assurance of success unless we see it through to the end, and even then, the effort WILL have some setbacks and false starts, but through it all comes the sense of a new wind of freedom and hope for a brighter future showing through all the pain and frustration with the birthing pains of a new type of government never before seen in the Middle East.

Note from Mama: Iraq the Model is in the blogroll here along with three other excellent Iraqi blogs. Take the time and go read a bit. It's an eye-opener.

Breaking News

Idiotarians Stripped of Medal
ESPN

Today, in the 14th Annual Idiotarian Game being held in Worcester, MA, Maude Frumeweiser and her partner Chip Wigglesworth were disqualified and their medals taken from them after a post-race urine test failed to indicate any presence of drugs.

"It is a widely embraced tradition in the Idiotarian subculture that hallucinogenic and mood altering herbs are a vital part of games participation," stated Moonbeam Dragonfly Jones, current president of the International Idiotarian Games Committee. "We take it very seriously, and when, like, some Just-Say-No Fascist tries to take part in the games, it like totally makes a mockery of the spirit of Idiotarianism."

"It was so totally bogus of these people to think they could get away with it."

When asked for comment, Chip Wigglesworth stated "I completely fail to understand the attitude here. I'm just a qualified as any of these other people. Sure, I don't drop acid or fire up a fatty after work or during my lunch hour, but sheesh, some of us are just natural Idiotarians."

"I mean, I voted for Kerry," he continued. "I read the Washington Post. I work as a door-to-door community political activist. Hell, I even helped make Molotov cocktails for ELF last summer during a PETA sensitivity camp. That should count for something."

Because of the disqualification, the Moonbat Medal was given to the second place team, Roxie "cb" Meadowlark-Jones and Sophia Soppleworth of the Vassar Rainbow team.

Vandalism as Dissent?

I understand the necessity of political protest. I even embrace it as a tool for groups interested in producing a climate conducive to immense social and political change. Carrying a placard, marching, making speeches, writing and performing protest songs, and holding rallies have all had a place in this country for drawing attention to situations and initiating changes. Everything from Tom Paine's "Common Sense" to the Swiftboat Vets is protest.

Much political protest is civil, much is not. Chanting and conducting well organized marches and parades is civil. Pitching bricks through windows and throwing marbles under the hooves of police horses is not. Some protests can be extreme. Some is merely wanton vandalism disguised as dissent.

Vandals tried to put a damper on Ashland's Veterans' Day celebration by putting gravel and wet cement into 65 flag holders along the town's main street.

But Kiwanis Club members discovered the vandalism early enough that they were still able to put up more than 200 flags through the rest of the town to commemorate Veterans' Day.

Acts like this protest nothing less than our very existance as a nation. This isn't dissent. It is criminal act which makes real debate impossible.

The punks who perpetrate acts like this deserve it when the full weight of the law falls on them. Eventually it will.

A Hat in the Ring!

It seems that Dick has entered the fray already, and has thrown his hat in the ring.

I haven't quite determined his party affiliation, except that it involves the consumption of copious amounts of alcohol, as all good parties should. And he's auditioning potential interns, to boot.

Veterans Day

Mad Ogre has the best comment on Veterans Day I've ever seen:

Just a word to you cake eating civilians out there… You don’t say Happy Veterans Day. You don’t say Merry Vets Day. But just because you don’t have a meaningless Seasons Greetings for it doesn’t mean you don’t say anything. This isn’t some fat bunny in a sled passing around Jack O’Lanterns because it’s Santa’s birthday… This isn’t about some old fable-become-tradition. Veterans Day is a day for those that are still alive, and for those who are dead… those who died for your freedom to flip soldiers the bird and to call them baby killers and spit on them in the airport. Veterans Day is for the guys that died fighting for your personal independent liberty… It’s for that Veteran that walks with just a slight limp and seems otherwise fine, but he doesn’t have a spleen because an enemy of our country blew it out his back with an AK-47 so you can get 15% Off that new leather fat-ass reclining couch that your going to sit on to mock the President from while watching your 42 inch plasma TV flipping through the channels trying to find some Friends rerun. Veterans Day is for the guy that came home while all his friends didn’t. Veterans day is for the woman who gave up the best years of her young adulthood so she could press her hands over the sucking chest wound of some guy from her own home town 6 thousand miles away from home. Veterans day is for that old woman over there that raised 2 kids alone because when she was young she sent her handsome young husband off to fight for your freedom and came back as a flag folded into a triangle. That’s what Veterans day is for… and what do you say to those people who served? You just say “Thank You”.

THANK YOU, ALL VETERANS PAST, PRESENT, AND FUTURE!

Ah, Wednesday.

Okay, it's Wednesday and it was supposed to be my day off. Ah, but exactly like the proverbial best laid plans of mice and men, things didn't go as expected. A call-in by a co-worker, an offer of overtime, and of course I went in. Well, it won't be overtime, but I do get tomorrow off instead. In the meantime, while busily answering phones, paging doctors, and dispatching shuttle buses to various places around the hospital campus, I did manage to get a few thoughts together and things I wanted to direct you to today:

Is it just me, or has Yassir Arafat expended more lives over the last several days than a whole herd of cats at a pitt bull kennel? The last time I saw a death scene this long, it was in a bad amateur theatrical. Ah, melodrama.

Big Dick's Place has become Campaign Central for the Dick in 2008 presidential campaign. He even has his platform spelled out and posted. Yours truly has been tabbed for Secretary of Housing and Urban Development. Applications are now being accepted for HUD internships, as well as a really hot Under Secretary. Remember, the best kinds of hot tend to be between the ears. Beefcake photos, however, are encouraged.

Upheaval continues in the Blogosphere. Apparently Mblog isn't the only host to set about screwing their clients. Not only do journalists and media types not take us seriously, neither do some of the services we utilize as blog hosts. It's open season on bloggers. Drop by WeaselTeeth while you can and lend him your moral support and any kind words you can spare. And if you find he's gone, keep an eye here for updates. He and his wonderful wife don't deserve the crap they're getting, and are searching for a dependable Wordpage host. If you know of one, let me know and I'll forward your addy and comment to them.

You know that great Geico commercial with the cool guy and the gecko sporting Raybans, driving a cool convertable through the tunnel, and listening to that awesome song? I love that song. It was haunting me, because I had never heard it before nor had any clue about finding out what it was. Well, the vacationing Eric at StraightWhiteGuy has that song up in a post. Needless to say, I was delighted. Go click and enjoy. And while you're there, enjoy the postings by his guest bloggers.

It as been announced that a large part of us are now the demented denizens of the evil and nationalistic rogue nation of Jesusland. I guess that's supposed to be a derogatory announcement. Of course, as Velociman pointed out yesterday, Jeff's way ahead of the curve yet again. Not to mention, he has gained unprecidented access to Martha Stewart's private jailhouse diary. Mind altering substances are not enouraged, as his posts pretty much do the same thing at a much lower cost and we hate redundency, except perhaps in the bedroom.

And speaking of Bedrooms and such, anyone know where V-man can get a Caning Rack? I suggested searching Ebay for "dungeon furniture" as I've always had luck with that search, but you might have a better idea.

Andrew, Andrew, Andrew. In case you're reading today, how much longer before I get this freeloader respected guest blogger off my site and onto his own? Please? A little mercy on me the spousal unit. You can email him at Delftsman3(at)sbcglobal(dot)net if you need any info from him.

Someone Gets It!

Someone not only gets it, but actually explained it well enough that even the daft will understand it!

Let me explain by answering the obvious question that never seems to get answered in stories about poor Mabel Anne: Why do drugs cost less in Canada, which is just America Jr. anyway, than they do in America Sr.?

Answer: Because the Canadian government is using its total power to make law in Canada in order to force the drug companies to sell drugs below true cost in Canada, or be ruined financially. You see, drug prices are not artificially high in the US, they are artificially low in Canada.

I'm so tired of hearing about the Cheaper Canadian Drugs by people who have no Clue™ that seeing this item was like a breath of fresh air. He explodes the fallacy of that belief like Mr. Creosote at the Super Lucky 8 Buffet.

We Are Subsidising Canadian Drug Prices With The Increased Cost Of Our Own Prescriptions! Wake up, people. Do the math. Oh, and enjoy a beautiful use of satire at the same time.

Crook gives up

With all of the somber post election crying by the DimocRats and the gloating by the Right side, it's good to have a little levity for a change...so how about THIS?

I"m sure I would give up if I thought Shrek was chasing me too!

Guy must have been a DimocRat...after all, it was just a "fair redistribution" of alcohol from an eeeeevil business that was, no doubt, gouging the working man engaging in his "right" to get plowed. And one of "Ashcrofts Jackbooted Thugs" stepped in to take the poor fellow off to the Gulag; must have been a CIA agent, or why a green disguise?

Damn it! I can't even put a link to a humorous incident without engaging in political polemic!, what has this election season done to me?!?

Housekeeping

Well, with the election over and the evil menace of insurection past, it's time to do a little blog-cleaning and pull some of the old campaign stuff down. Oh, of course they'll be packed away until such time as they're needed, in the hall closet with the Christmas decorations and the old Easter baskets. Can't bear to part with them completely.

So if things look a little different around here for a while, that's what's going on in the Rumpus Room. And be sure to take a gander at the links. I've found a few great new blogs that I will be adding as well. Read a few bloggers you haven't read before and expand your horizons a bit. You'll be glad you did.

Update: Well, if you peruse the blogroll over on the right, you will find about a dozen new bloggers I found had linked me but that I had never reciprocated. Damn, I hate it when I miss linkage like that.

Right now, they're in the section "Folks That Make Me Think" but as soon as I find out where they really belong, they'll be moved.

AmpDead
Bittersweet Me
Boudicca's Voice
Chabliz
Paulie's World
Dogwood Dreams
Leslie's Omnibus
New York City Blog
News and Current Events
Ol'Dad Thinks
Orc Hunter
Political Teen
Rechter Geisteszustand
Shadydown's Soapbox
Six Meat Buffet
Solomonia

Click around and leave a "Hello" on these new additions to the blogroll. And be sure to support them by perhaps adding them to your own. Linky-Lovin's are a wonderful thing.

Oh, and another thing. If you're not looking at your Tehnorati link list once in a while, you really should. You'd be amazed at what you'll find. I find folks there who have linked to a post or have put me in their blogrolls, and if not for that site I'd have never known. You don't have to sign-up or pay for the service. Just enter your full URL and let it search. It's a great tool for bloggers interested in maintaining a good, full blogroll that includes the good folks who have them linked.

Superstitions

So, conventional wisdom has it that if the Washington Redskins win the game before the national election, the incumbent wins the election. Conversely, if the opposing team wins, the challenger also wins the election. Interesting theory.

To this I have to say-

Revolution?

Kim du Toit has a post up on the reasons/possibilities for a revolution in this country.

I agree with him that it all depends on the "tripwires" that we as a people have about determining when the government has become tyranical, and it has reached the point where people will decide that their freedoms have been sufficiently abrogated for them to rise up and reclaim them in either a political uprising; or if too stoutly resisted, armed insurrection.

I feel that we may be nearing that point soon...The Left has already begun on both fronts...firing weapons on Republican election headquarters, stuffing voter rolls with illegals/felons/dead people,using Union thugs to intimidate the free expression of politcal views.

It's not an organised effort, or the revolution would be here, but when the hot headed on both sides are at that point, how far behind can the general populace be from a general uprising? All it would take is for the incidents to be of a sufficient seriousness/obviousness to make people risk a comfortable status-quo in favor of defending their individual freedoms for a general uprising to occur.

The first Civil War did not flash into being; it took a slow progression of grievences to build up to the point where a large segment of the people say "enough, and no more" and rose up to try to defend their way of life.

Slavery is touted as the cause, but no one who studies history can believe that it was anything more than a focal point to legitimize the true cause; the struggle between Federalism and States rights.

The problem is that Slavery was an abhorrent enough institution to fight against, when, for the rest, the side supporting it was otherwise correct in their resistance to an ever encroaching Federal abrogation of power.

The Founding Fathers wouldn't recognize our government as it is now as anything akin to what they envisioned, and would probably be calling for the "refreshment of the roots of the tree of Liberty with the blood of patriots and tyrants".

I sincerely hope that the revolution can be done politicaly, and not through armed revolt, but those in power never give that power up easily. The fact remains that we do need a revolution to return to our original ideas of a limited Federal government in place only to protect the freedoms of the individual citizen.

I don't know if the people of today have the intestinal fortitude to take true freedom back into their hands, with all the self responsibility that that entails; too many of us are all too willing to give up some of that freedom for the security of the nanny state. Freedom entails taking risks of personal failure, without a net other than the largess of their fellow citizens to help through the low spots. Right now, that largess is enforced by government, with government holding that largess as the stick to compliance with it's policies. That isn't freedom. That is being a ward of the state.

I am NOT espousing armed revolution...I espouse hoping that the people take back what is their birthright under the Constitution, the freedom to live without of an overreaching government seeking to control all aspects of their lives.

"For your own good" is the most insidious phrase in our political lexicon, and from which enslavement to the state invariably follows. We must all subjegate our personal freedom to some extent to provide for an ordered society, otherwise there is anarchy, but we must always guard those freedoms to the greatest extent possible lest we give away too much and become merely subjects of the state and not free participants in a mutually benificial society.

WMD's and Terrorism

Sailor in the Desert has a great post that should finally put to rest the meme that Saddam wasn't a threat to our security. Read it and think again before you pull that lever on Tuesday.

The battle for more than the presidency

Listening to Drudge this evening, and he quoted a poll which stated 56% of persons polled want the Electoral College disbanded. Can you imagine the implications of this in future elections?

All future presidents would be picked, essentially, by the urban areas on each coast. We in the fly-over states would be "disenfranchised" by such a move. Rural states, smaller urban areas in the heartland would completely lose their voice in national politics.

Scary? You bet. I, for one, do not relish the thought of losing my voice to persons in regions who have no clue about what vast segments of this county need as representation.

If your senators or congressmen are in favor of such a move, it behooves you to make sure they are not given the opportunity. This is, afterall, more than a presidential race. Fully a third of the Senate and all of the House of Representatives is fighting for their seats, and this is your opportunity to make sure their seats are filled by persons who will represent their constituants.

Yes, it's important to make your vote count in ways you cannot imagine. But you must.

Is that all?

Okay, I'm going to ask a stupid question. Chalk it up to my being a hysterical woman, prone to the vapors, unstable because of my hormones. But I'm going to ask anyway.

You've all heard about Ann Coulter's brush with cowardly pie-throwers in Arizona. It made the news, and lots of blogs have covered it as well.

Seems these hooligans got off pretty easy. Sure they got charged with a felony for damaging a backdrop at the venue. But all of the charges directly related to their assault are misdemeanors. Misdemeanors? Seriously?

Let me break my thoughts down on this. Two men assaulted a woman. They assaulted a tiny woman on stage during a presentation of her political beliefs. The woman was assaulted because she holds political beliefs contrary to theirs. They hate her political beliefs and acted out that hatred by assaulting her.

If they had been some Aryan Nation types throwing things at a hippy-chick, it would have been a hate crime. So where is this different?

Is it different because her cause is the unpopular one? Is it because it's acceptable to hate conservatives and their politics? If people are going to demand that hate crime be prosecuted as such, then don't they have to include acts like this as hate crimes?

When is hate not reallly hate? I really don't have to ask, because deep down, I already know the answer.

BlogFamily

*sigh* I finally purged the blog-family rolls of those poor unfortunates who had their blogs at that evil Mblog. Gladly, I was able to replace a couple with new Blog-City addresses, and they have carried on their blogging in their new digs.

Make sure you update your blogrolls with the new addresses for Murdock and Catfish. And be sure to welcome the newest member of the family, Neil Vaneerde at Blog-Gig, also known as LCNeil in the comments at Misha's. Oh, and don't forget LCMikenchi, who's blogging at GrumpyOldWarrior.

It has been fun having Delftsman3, aka Spousal Unit, posting here, but he is getting mighty fidgetty and ready to break free. Seems I keep getting credit in comments for the posts he wrote, and, well, you know how we bloggers are.

It's in the works. It's just a matter of time. Until then, tell Delfts when he's written a good one, but make sure you leave my name out of it. (sheesh, men are so sensitive!)

A Heartfelt Letter.

Neil Ernest Vaneerde, a man who needs a real blog, took the time to gather and put down these thoughts in a letter that he shared with his friends, thoughts that I felt needed to be shared more widely than a few emails. Please take the time to read this, and pass it on to those who may need to read it.

Friends Romans and Countrymen,

I know many of my friends think I am too the right of Ghengis Khan ,and you may be right.

But I don't kick dogs or want to cripple children to fight a war.

I belive from the bottom of my heart, that security must come before many other things in the priority list. Its like paying bills. The electric bill trumps the DTV bill. The insurance for Home, car and Life trumps having dinner out. Gas for the car to get to work beats my tall boy on the way home, no matter how much I am craving it.

Formula for my son beats anything on the list.

We all have priorities and Waging the war on terror beats a lot of priorities the esteemed and usually missing senator from Taxechussets has consistently voted for or against.

http://www.carlisle.army.mil/usawc/parameters/04summer/peters.htm
Some of those things [he voted against],The MX missile, Stealth Bomber, M-1 tank, The funds to press the war in Iraq.

He implies that Iraq would be better off if we had not invaded.

Would the world be better off if we had not invaded Germany and Japan in the 40s?

How many dead and tortured innocents does it take to trip the wire? Do you think he really believes all the people put in shredders are of no value?

Remember Clinton and Koffis action in Rwanda? Nothing, and thousands of innocents dead.

How about Sudan today?

How come Germany and France don't pick up the slack there, while we battle the Islamists swarming to Iraq?

And don't tell me that because we can't solve all the problems in the world that we cant pick and choose. You have to start somewhere.

I am open to suggestions from anyone left or right about what to do in Hati.
What nuanced response can save that hell hole, other then shooting anyone with a gun?

Kerry also derides the Coalition our President has assembled, insulting our allies Great Britain, Poland, Italy, Australia to name a few.

Yet he still voted against Gulf War 1 because it still did not meet his test.

Do we really want to ask the UN for permission to protect us from our Enemy?
When Sudan sits on the Human rights council, I have a problem with that.

The President takes an oath of office to the Constitution not the UN.

And look at the Kerry Supporters: Yassir Arrafat, The Communist Party, Mike Moore, The Hollywood Left. That is a coalition of evil if I have ever seen it.

That being said I am sending this out for you to read and digest. Its a bit long but describes what we are up against in detail.

I belive what I belive, and have been consistent since Reagan was President. Kerry has no core values other then a lust for the office, and the redistribution of every ones wealth except his.

Turayzuh paid 12% in Taxes.

Even i pay more then that.

And if he cares so much about helping people, how about a refund for the past year, him and The breck girl's last year of non service to their Constituents.
They have both missed tons of important votes while chasing the white whale.
I mean White House.

Look at Kerrys record. It's a joke. Where is all the Legislation he has passed to help? The guy uses his Senate pay as allowance but he does nothing to earn it. And hiring an ambulance chaser to reform health care seems like a brilliant plan to me.

That coupled with slamming us while abroad during the 60-and 70s is beyond the pale.

I don't care if anyone wants to dissent. You have the right but do it here amongst us. Don't pander to our enemies while abroad. That is bullshit in my book.

The communists in the 40s 50s and 60s killed more people then the US ever has. Look at Germany and Japan. Who would have believed we could transform those societies in the days of WW 2?

And are we lording over them?

They were against the Iraq war because they were getting kick backs from Saddam in the oil for UN diplomats program. These are the people Mr Easter Island head, wants to ask for permission?

We are in this for the long haul and even if you want a dialogue with the enemy, you can not have dialogue with people who just want to kill or convert you. And that is the face of radical Islam.

Cheers to all and even if you disagree with my views I respect yours. And I doubt if Bush wins that Ashcroft's Flying Monkeys will come take you away for dissent. I mean how many people are in the gulag for speaking against our President?

Dont try to tell me it is brave to dissent here. We allow anyone to be an idiot.

I met a man in Berlin who had scars on his body and arms from the torture inflicted in the name of the Fraternal order of East Germany. He understood dissent better then any American. John Kerry or Mike Moore. He sits at the Brandenburg gate every day reminding people.

And by the way, history lesson for Jimmy Carter who was quoted yesterday saying we did not need the Revolution to free us from the Brits. He said that the Revolution was the bloodiest war in our history. Sorry to tell you Jimbo, you're hanging with Mike Moore too much. The worst war in terms of casualties was the Civil war by far. Try reading a history book once in a while.

I guess I am writing this to urge you to Vote for the President. He is not perfect but he is better then the alternative in my not so humble opinion.

Neil Ernest Vaneerde

Ted? or Chomps?

Who'd have thought it?

Oh, No! Not again!

As an enemy of the state, I'm forever in trouble. I wonder if Acidman will send me what's left of that bottle of red nail polish so I can be suitably decked-out for my trial?

Another one sees the light!

Yeah, I think it's a photoshop, but still, nice to dream isn't it?

Kaspar Vs Soros

Ray D. of Davids Medienkritik had an interesting exchange of views with George Soros. Mr. Kaspar came out the clear winner in my opinion.
Go read it and judge for yourself. It is a long piece, but well worth your time.

Random Thoughts, late at night

Sometimes it's difficult to put into words exactly how we feel. The Flag/Eagle above just represent the symbols of what I feel. DUTY--HONOR--COUNTRY

I have the great honor to have been accepted as a citizen of this nation by my own merits, and not just an accident of birth. I proudly served in her Armed Forces to try to repay just a little of what this country had given me.

That is one reason I am at a loss to explain how anyone could honestly say they WANT to vote for John Kerry.

Lets look at the record:

1) In almost twenty years in the Senate, Mr. Kerry has yet to author a single major piece of legislation.

2) Mr. Kerry's attendance record in every major sub-committee he has been a part of is less than 30%

3) Mr. Kerry has voted FOR every tax increase, and AGAINST every tax cut.

4) Mr. Kerry, while still an active reserve Naval Officer attended meetings with an enemy leader while in time of war....This is proscribed, prosecutable, activity by both the UCMJ(Article 104 part 904) and the US Constitution (Article 3, Section 3 of the US Constitution,and US Code 18 U. S. C. 953 ). He actively promoted the enemies 7 point peace plan thereafter, this could be construed as aiding and abetting the enemy in a time of war, punishable by up to death under the UCMJ. In the same period of time he attended a meeting of VVAW that voted on assassinating members of the US Senate.

5) Mr. Kerry voted against an appropiations bill that funded our troops actively engaged in a battle zone. Yet he claims that he supports our troops!

6) Mr. Kerry publicly demeaned our allies in a time of war as "coerced and bribed" and yet maintains that he can forge "new and wider alliances with foreign nations" Interesting stragedy...demean allies to grow an alliance and gain new allies....does anyone truly believe that this works?!?

7) Mr. Kerry publicly stated that "any military action must pass the global test" to be legitimate. He did say that no President can let any foreign nation determine wether to go to war in our national defense. So which is it?
Sovereign decision or Global permission?

8) There is now some doubt as to Mr. Kerry's original type of discharge from the Navy IF it could be proven that his discharge was less than Honorable/General, Mr. Kerry was elected to the Senate in a fraudulent manner, as he would have been ineligable to even run for said office. Mr. Kerry's publicly shown discharge wasn't issued until March 12, 2001...although by the public records, his TOS should have ended on July 1,1972... He fraudently requested an "early out" in Nov.1969 by stating that his TOS was due to end in Dec. of that year, when in fact, he had untill July 1972.
Mr. Kerry refuses to sign form DD180, as president Bush did to quell the "Awol" rumors...I will not speculate why he refuses to sign, I just ask you to consider the above information and let you draw your own conclusions.

9) Mr. Kerry professed to being a war criminal on national television, and condemned the military and the USA, during a time of war. (yes, I know that was 35 years ago...yet his Senate record on military appropiations AND intelligence funding shows that he has remained consistant with his views in 1972 for the duration of his Senate terms in office)

10) Mr. Kerry says "he has a plan" for almost every issue, yet the details of those plans are never forthcoming. "trust me folks, I know what to do"
Tell us what you want to do, and WE"LL be the judge if you know what your doing.

Those are my top ten reasons I believe that Kerry should be unelectable. Kool-aid drinkers, show me where I'm incorrect. And don't give me blather about why you hate Bush. This is your guy we're talking about, and his fitness for office, not why Bush is unfit.

The PERFECT Couple

(Mamamontezz: forgive me, Jack MADE me do it! )

THE PERFECT COUPLE

Once upon a time, a perfect man and a perfect woman met. After a perfect courtship, they had a perfect wedding. Their life together was, of course, perfect.
One snowy, stormy Christmas Eve, this perfect couple was driving their perfect car along a winding road, when they noticed someone at the side of the road in distress. Being the perfect couple, they stopped to help.
There stood Santa Claus with a huge bundle of toys. Not wanting to disappoint any children on the eve of Christmas, the perfect couple loaded Santa and his toys into their vehicle.
Soon they were driving along delivering the toys.
Unfortunately, the driving conditions deteriorated and the perfect couple and Santa Claus had an accident. Only one of them survived the accident.

Question: Who was the survivor?

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Answer:

The perfect woman survived. She's the only one who really existed in the
first place. Everyone knows there is no Santa Claus and there is no such
thing as a perfect man.

**** Women you can stop reading here, that is the end of the joke.

**** Men keep scrolling.

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So, if there is no perfect man and no Santa Claus, the woman must have been
driving. This explains why there was a car accident.

**** Women, if you have read this too... stop reading here, this is REALLY
the end of the joke.

*** Men keep scrolling

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By the way, if you're a woman and you're still reading, this illustrates
another point :

WOMEN NEVER LISTEN!!!

Engineers

Just as a slight, friendly, jab to George Turner, the one genius I know:

Understanding Engineers - Take One

Two engineering students crossing the campus when one said, "Where did you get such a great bike?" The second engineer replied, "Well, I was walking along yesterday minding my own business when a beautiful woman rode up on this bike. She threw the bike to the ground, took off all her clothes and said, "Take what you want." The first engineer nodded approvingly, "Good choice; the clothes probably wouldn't have fit."

Understanding Engineers - Take Two

To the optimist, the glass is half full. To the pessimist, the glass is half empty. To the engineer, the glass is twice as big as it needs to be.

Understanding Engineers - Take Three

A pastor, a doctor and an engineer were waiting one morning for a particularly slow group of golfers. The engineer fumed, "What's with these guys? We must have been waiting for 15 minutes!" The doctor chimed in, "I don't know, but I've never seen such ineptitude!" The pastor said, "Hey, here comes the greens keeper. Let's have a word with him." "Hi George! Say, what's with that group ahead of us? They're rather slow, aren't they?" The greens keeper replied, "Oh, yes, that's a group of blind firefighters. They lost their sight saving our clubhouse from a fire last year, so we always let them play for free anytime." The group was silent for a moment. The pastor said, "That's so sad. I think I will say a special prayer for them tonight." The doctor said, "Good idea. And I'm going to contact my ophthalmologist buddy and see if there's anything he can do for them." The engineer said, "Why can't these guys play at
night?"

Understanding Engineers - Take Four

What is the difference between Mechanical Engineers and Civil Engineers? Mechanical Engineers build weapons and Civil Engineers build targets.

Understanding Engineers - Take Five

The graduate with a Science degree asks, "Why does it work?" The graduate with an Engineering degree asks, "How does it work?" The graduate with an Accounting degree asks, "How much will it cost?" The graduate with an Arts degree asks, "Do you want fries with that?"

Bill Whittle's latest

I KNOW I'm late in linking this, and I can only plead being in the midst of a personal s**tstorm and the loss of my own site as an excuse, but the closer we come to the election, the more vital that we disseminate this essay as far and wide as possible. Bill has laid out what's at stake in this election as only he can.

Print this out and give it to your liberal friends, it may just give them a nudge to doing what is necessary, rather than what the Kool-aid Kommanders would like them to do.

Deterrence:
Part 1
Part 2

Fallujah under attack

It's about time! The Marines are putting the hurt on al-Zarqawi's holdings in Fallujah.
This was long overdue. Diplomacy is a fine thing, but sometimes you have to forgo it in favor of the "rough men".

Subject: I'm confused

I got this e-mail from a friend of mine, thought it put some things in perspective.

This was passed to me, but I can't understand it. Maybe you can. I'm trying to get all this political stuff straightened out in my head so I'll know how to vote come November. Right now, we have one guy saying one thing. Then the other guy says something else. Who to believe. Lemme see, have I got this straight?

Clinton awards Halliburton no-bid contract in Yugoslavia - good...
Bush awards Halliburton no-bid contract in Iraq - bad...

Clinton spends 77 billion on war in Serbia - good...
Bush spends 87 billion in Iraq - bad...

Clinton imposes regime change in Serbia - good...
Bush imposes regime change in Iraq - bad...

Clinton bombs Christian Serbs on behalf of Muslim Albanian terrorists- good...
Bush liberates 25 million from a genocidal dictator - bad...

Clinton bombs Chinese embassy - good...
Bush bombs terrorist camps - bad...

Clinton commits felonies while in office - good...
Bush lands on aircraft carrier in jumpsuit - bad...

No mass graves found in Serbia - good...
No WMD found Iraq - bad...

Stock market crashes in 2000 under Clinton - good...
Economy on upswing under Bush - bad...

Clinton refuses to take custody of Bin Laden - good...
World Trade Centers fall under Bush - bad...

Clinton says Saddam has nukes - good...
Bush says Saddam has nukes - bad...

Clinton calls for regime change in Iraq - good...
Bush imposes regime change in Iraq - bad...

Terrorist training in Afghanistan under Clinton - good...
Bush destroys training camps in Afghanistan - bad...

Milosevic not yet convicted - good...
Saddam turned over for trial - bad...

Ahh, it's so confusing!

Every year an independent tax watchdog group analyzes the average tax burden
on Americans, and then calculates the "Tax Freedom Day". This is the day
after which the money you earn goes to you, not the government. This year, tax
freedom day was April 11th. That's the earliest it has been since 1991. It's
latest day ever was May 2nd, which occurred in 2000. Notice anything special
about those dates?

Recently, John Kerry gave a speech in which he claimed Americans are
actually paying more taxes under Bush, despite the tax cuts. He gave
no explanation and provided no data for this claim.

Another interesting fact: Both George Bush and John Kerry are wealthy men.
Bush owns only one home, his ranch in Texas. Kerry owns 4 mansions,
all worth sever al million dollars. (His ski resort home in Idaho is an old barn
brought over from Europe in pieces. Not your average A-frame).

Bush paid $250,000 in taxes this year; Kerry paid $90,000. Does that
sound right? The man who wants to raise your taxes obviously has figured out
a way to avoid paying his own.

Bad, bad Bill

You know, I never liked Bill O'Reilly. Really. I always found his interviewing style offensive and boorish, and never understood why anyone would submit themselves to his rude, overbearing nonsense.

And strangely, as much as I believe that an awful lot of these suits are meritless and petty, after reading the documents at The Smoking Gun I have a pretty strong hunch that her complaints are valid.

The timing of them? Oh, I also have no doubt that this was timed to damage him before the election, to make yet another "anti-liberal" personality into an object that the particularly vocal faction of the left can point to as an example of how evil conservatives are.

And for some weak-minded undecideds, it will work even though Mr. O'Reilly is hardly what I would consider a typical conservative.

Wednesday Stuff

Tonight is the final presidential debate, and it could prove to be interesting. I sincerely hope that two things are evident to the American public. I hope that it is shown inconclusively how one man shamelessly wasted 20 years of legislative potential for his constituency and ultimately for this nation. I additionally hope that the undecided voters see that the only consistency of his campaign has been his nay-saying negativity about not only his opponent, but about this great country and her people.
************

Gracious appreciation for the tremendous response to Spousal Unit's blog situation. We are overcome with gratitude for the amazingly kind offers of all manners of assistance and hosting and support both emotional and cyber. He is just stunned at the number of offers. To each and every one of you, our profound thanks and sincerest hopes that if any of you is ever in a place where you need help, we are able to return as much as we have received.

The good news on this is that barring complications, he will be joining the mad and merry Munuvians as Pixy Misa's time and resources permit. In the meantime, he will be occupying the fold-out couch here in the Rumpus Room, eating Cheetos and drinking Diet Pepsi until he gets the keys for the newly built and improved Emigre. If he'd just quit hiding the remote!

Saint Pixy Misa, I will light a candle for you.
************

Beatrice, a co-worker at the hospital, told me about a way of potentially retrieving his archives through a site called the "Wayback Machine." We can look at their main page, but can get no further. Heck, it's probably jammed up with thousands of other former Mbloggers trying to get their stuff back. If any of you is familiar with this site and how it works, let me know.
************

I will be laundering and packing the essentials for the Jawja Blogfest tonight. Just two more days until I step off that plane into the Atlanta airport to meet Acidman in person. All that man in one place...I hope I remember how to act in public.

Let's see...Clothes...Toothbrush...Token of appreciation...Red nail polish...Handcuffs... That should about cover it.
************

I want to say one more time. You readers are the best. Thank you again.

A Letter worth reading.

BunkerMulligan has a particularly interesting piece up that merits your attention. Please take a look at this and pass it on.

Dr. T?

Apparently now the New York Times has decided that an affection for cruciferous vegetables is a presidential qualification. Please. Spare me.

We all know this stems back to the Bush41 admission that he did not like broccoli and would not eat it. We all know how this alienated the Broccoli farmers and the Cruciferous Veggie base. So now T'ray-za wants to make sure that they're all on board with her kept man husband and ready to vote his way for the sake of their florets, heads, and medleys.

I have one thing to say to Madame about this silliness: Quit trivializing this election. There are more important matters than whether or not he purees his soup, or if he is allowed a chocolate chip cookie binge once in a while. If you're going to talk about something homespun and personal about the two of you, why don't you start with a discussion of the servants slaves your dad kept in Mozambique to work in the estate for your privilege family? I'm sure that the American public would love to hear about that and how he justified it.

Now that would be a meaty campaign news item.

It's conclusive

The spousal unit was complaining about having to have two head CT's, one with contrast and one without.

"I don't know why Scott insists on this. They're not going to find anything up there."

It was too easy, one of those "fish in a barrel" moments. And it confirmed his belief, if you think about it.

He really ought to think about getting a better writer.

Update: Heard from the doctor's office at work yesterday. They confirmed my suspicions. According to Sherry, Nurse-Goddess, "They found nothing." Well, I guess poor old Spousal Unit was right.

Rampaging Jeanne.

Jeanne looks to be a heartless bitch, doesn't she? I feel for all of you down there in her path. She looks like the kind of woman who takes no prisoners and gives no quarter.

Compared to this, we midwesterners have life pretty darned easy. Sure, we get an occasional tornado which takes out a swath about a mile wide in a really bad one, maybe a few miles long. But then it's over. They're a flash in the pan compared to the destruction that one of these can dish out over several hours.

You're in my thoughts, guys. BC, LTL, V-man, Acidman (you're not escaping this one, Sugar), Catfish (glad you're not on the saltmarsh yet), Dax, Eric, all of you, take care.

Update:

From BC in Tampa we get this: Mama, could you let all the LC's know that I'm w/o power and we have no idea when we'll get it back on? We made it through Jeanne with no real damage, but power went out at 9:20 a.m. I'm at my brother's house to shower and have dinner, then heading back to take care of the house.

Gotta run. Hugs from Soggy Florida.

Nitewear

In honor of the impending Fall, I decided to go look around in the national chain store for fellow fat chicks, just to see what the fashionistas were intent on inflicting upon us this fall. Based on what was in the store, it certainly could be worse.

The clothes were actually relatively sedate compared to recent years. They were actually things that would look good on most of we chub-ettes. Slacks had re-introduced themselves to the waistline, tops extended below the Brittany-Christina line, and the color palate no longer looked like Psychodelic Nuggat.

The dimensionally enhanced can dress for work this year without looking like Chicago's Big Mama, and casually without looking like a pre-TrimSpa Anna Nicole. Both of these situations are a vast improvement over even last fall.

And then I entered the Forbidden Zone... I went into the lingerie section.

Oh.My.Goodness.

No woman, big, small or in between, should have no more options for sleepware than was displayed at this store. Basically, you had two choices: thin cotton jammiebottoms with little ribbon draw strings and a poorly cut knit top not made for any female body type known to human kind, or slut-wear in obnoxious colors that look terrible on very fair skinned women. Like me.

I was so disappointed at what I saw. My only option was an oversized t-shirt that was made to hang to my knees, which was NOT an option. No cute teddies, no cute cami and tap pant combinations, no little nighties, nothing even remotely "sweet."

Okay, okay, the slut-wear was probably more appropriate than I'm admitting, but not the hard and edgy stuff they had. It was like Industrial slut-wear, not feminine at all. And I may be a lot of things, but hard and industrial isn't one of them. I like sheer things, and soft colors. I like lace and full, sweeping, flowing things.

I really hate to have to make something like that, but I'm just not ever going to be happy with any of what I saw in the store last night. Looks like time for a trip to the fabric store.

Exceptional Pieces.

American Warmonger reposts an excellent piece.

Blogs for Bush has several items posted by guest bloggers.

Bittersweet has a beautiful photo essay, and a remembrance of Barbara Olsen.

The Briar Patch also has a photo essay.

We find Intemperate Thoughts at Intemperate Thoughts.

Sir George says it all at the Rottie.

Cox and Forkum. 'Nuff said.

Pardon my English had two Good Posts.

Azygos posts this letter to his son.

Doc Russia discusses the third anniversary.

Update: In an ever continuing search, I find and would like to add some more excellent pieces to the list.

Red Falcon at The Steiner Aid discusses it as his tipping point.

Thanks to Jeremy at American Warmonger, we now have Radiocyborg Simplex who gives us his perspective from his duty assignment and the USS Ramage. And Brodie? You are like so linked.

Bonfire? Well, this is one of the most damning things I've read in a long time.

One needs only enter Castle Aarrgghhh to get a good understanding of the links.

Weaselteeth gives us a veteran's perspective.

Stolen Honor, Redux

Sir George, Knight of the Rottie Realm, has posted an update at the Anti-Idiotarian Rottweiler containing a link to clips from the upcoming documentary Stolen Honor.

Four more interview brings the total to seven, and they are deeply touching and extremely powerful.

Go, take the time, and watch. Hear their words.

Velociman

First, I killed the comment thread on his post, Frances, and Deformities with my story.

Now it appears I have killed his entire blog. After he posted the comment as Truss Me, he has posted nothing else. Nothing. It's as though, as though... Aaaarrrgghh!

Man, I really feel bad. I'm a Blog-Murderess! Please, say it isn't so!

Navy Reviewing Kerry's Medals?

Sometimes a blogger hits it so completely, so righteously, that there is nothing more to add. This is one of those times.

Obnoxious Droppings nails this one, as he usually does. I, for one, will be watching as this one either develops or is ignored by Great Big Annointed Media.

Sic'em, Squids!

Stolen Honor

This link is up at the Rottie, and was also sent to me this morning in comments by Bill of In Bill's World.

It's important. It is extremely powerful. Take the time, even if you are on Dial-up, to view this.

Convention Blogging?

Yes, the Democrats had a few bloggers sitting in the nose-bleed seats, a narrow shelf on which to place their laptops. They invited some, dis-invited others, and then sat back and watched the dog-and-pony show that emerged so that they could later, in retrospect, point at their gallant effort to include "The Little Guy" as a dismal failure.

Oh, they didn't point and say that? Well, perhaps they didn't have to, since the media did it for them.

And now it's time for the GOP to fire up the party faithful, and they, too, have invited a group of bloggers to blog in real time about what they're seeing. But will the media again cry out "Dismal Failure" as they point to the area where these men will be sitting, lit by the glow of their displays? Probably not, since they seem to have joined them in this experiment in Bloggery.

Well, speaking as one who has spoken at length over the last year or so with one of the chosen, and as one who appreciates the effort that goes into being a blogger with the kind of audience he has on a daily basis at both his personal site and at his campaign site, I can only imagine how exciting this has to be.

Matt, knock'em dead for us. I only wish I could be there to watch. I have no grand delusions about the level or quality of my blogging, but I'll have to admit that being there as a mere observer would be a great few days.

And you know what? You wanted questions you could ask of conventioneers? Well I just thought of one. Ask each of the "journalists" who comes up there to gape at you guys what their URL is. I'd be interested to know just how many of them has decided to set up temporary blogs just to prove that any monkey with a laptop can do this. To do a comparison between these well trained and impartial Journalists and you and your fellow bloggers would be interesting to say the very least.

See you in chat, if you have the opportunity.

Okay, a story...

I bet none of you knew that there's a "Convicted Felon National Anthem" did you? Well there is, and here's how I found out.

Probably 15 years ago, when I was young and single and care-free and pretty much stupid for not realizing just how good I had it and blowing my paychecks like a 19 yr old sailor on liberty in Bankok, I used to run with two women who were just a bit older than I. Jane and Barb were their names.

They were a blast to run with, both married with cool husbands (Jane's was so cool he even took me to an adult bookstore one time when I was in a "serious relationship" and needed an, er, accessory), and we were pretty much inseparable. We even called ourselves "Run PMS", a play on the name of the old school rap trio.

One Christmas, Jane invited Barb and I to her mom's Christmas Party. "Oh, we'll have fun. Some of her clients will be there, and some of the people from the courts and it will be fun." So we agreed, and on the night of the party Barb and I drove over to Jane's and went from there to the party.

Let me give you a little background on Jane. Jane had been a bailbondsman at one point in her varied and adventurous life. When she was writing bonds (and skip tracing), it was at her mother's office, Turner Bonding, across from the City County Building in downtown Indianapolis. Norma Turner had been writing bonds for years, and had built up a very large and loyal clientel. Her clients loved her, and she enjoyed her clients. She took a personal interest in them, and they made sure they were there when they were supposed to be because Norma expected nothing less.

So Jane and Barb and I pulled up at Norma's house, parked the Oldsmobile, and walked in.

Oh, my. The house was full of men. Men in jeans of various stages of disrepair and decay. Men in flannel shirts of every plaid imaginable. Men with mullets, crew-cuts or shaved heads. Men with facial hair configurations I had never before witnessed and some I had never even imagined. Men with far fewer than the normal requisite of teeth. Thin men and burly men. Men with sad eyes and men with anger smouldering behind their cloudy eyes. And in the midst of all of these men was tiny little Norma, middle-aged and highly inebrieated, hostess of her big Christmas party for her clientel.

As we took off our coats and settled in, a guitar was produced and one of the many men began to play. The whole assembly fell quiet as he played the introduction and lifted his voice with the first words of the Convicted Felon National Anthem:

Let the midnight special...

One by one, the other men joined in.

Shine its light on me...

Slowly, almost reverently they all began to sing.

Let the midnight special Shine its ever-loving light on me.

They sang every verse and knew every harmony. These men sang this song with the deep abiding emotion of a shared allegiance, shared experience, and the knowledge that through this they had each other.

Old Norma stood and swayed to the music, and it was hard not to join in on the harmonies. But somehow I felt I had not "earned" the right to give my voice over to their song, their anthem, their lifeline. Good voices and bad blended interestingly and no one was chided or called out for a mistaken lyric or off-key harmony.

And when the song was done, when the guy with the guitar took his last chord, the room held silent for a minute, I can only imagine in remembrance of something or someone lost forever. Then like a lightswitch was flipped the smiles and rowdy laughter and clinking of bottles recommenced and the party was back on as though it never had been interupted by that brief interlude.

After a few moments, Norma realized I was there and hollared out, "Lila! Hey, y'all, look! Lila's here. She'll sing. She'll sing us a Christmas Song."

I looked at Jane, who for some reason was giggling into her hand and wouldn't look back at me, and I knew what she had done.

I tried to beg off. I claimed I hadn't had enough to drink, whereby half a dozen of these guys offered me everything from longnecks to mason jars. "No, no, just point me to the fridge, I brought a few beers. Just let me get one in me."

Norma's clients were nothing if they weren't gentlemen, at least that night. So cussing and fuming I went into the kitchen and put down one longneck and opened another before heading out into the dining room.

"Shut-up. Shut-up. Shut-up. Lila's gonna sing! She's gonna sing." I looked at Norma and wondered what on earth was going on. She had never heard me sing. I could only imagine what that brat Jane had told her mom while she was in her compromised condition.

So I stood over by the table, and looked out in to that sea of unkempt, previously incarcerated, possibly still wanted men, and tried to figure out what song. I decided on one that I knew forwards and backwards and could "show off" with just a little bit. It's one of those songs you just can't sing in a casual voice. You have to "tone it up."

Oh, Holy night, the stars are brightly shining,

All the faces were now fixed on me. Eyes started to glass up and shine with tears, and some of them started making that choking sound a man makes when he doesn't want to let anyone know he's getting emotional.

I kept on singing, through the verses and the refrains, until I got to that one final refrain, the big finish...

Oh night divine Oh night, oh night divine.

There was so much bawling and crying and men pinching the tears from the corner of their eyes... The toughest ones let it out, and the big quiet ones turned into the corners so no one could see. Even old Norma was sobbing and crying "That's just beyooootiful! Just beyooootiful!"

Jane and Barb, of course had slipped into the kitchen and were he-hawing at the reaction it had on one of the men, Eddie Humphreys.

Eddie Humphreys was probably the skinniest, scrawniest, long-haired little con there. I doubt he weighed 130 pounds if you soaked him down with a hose and made him carry a sack of potatoes. And Eddie seemed to have a religious experience hearing that song.

Eddie followed me around that house for the rest of the time we were there. "Gee, Ma'am. You have such a purdy voice." Over and over. It was like he had never heard "the fat lady sing" before. Every time I turned around, there was Eddy again, singing my praises. Anyone stepped in my way, he cleared my path. Look like my beer was getting empty? He was there with another. I have no idea who's stash he was taking from, but I certainly did drink a variety that night.

I did have to draw the line at the bathroom door, though. I really believe he would have followed me in there if I had let him. Probably would have stood in the tub, "Ma'am, you sure do sing purdy. How come you ain't singing on records? Cause you sure do have a purdy voice."

The only time he ever left my side was to rejoin the rest of the men in re-singing "Midnight Special" whenever one of them got the urge to sing it again. And it never varied. It was always sung with the same reverence as it had been the first time we heard them singing it. Oh, and Norma grabbed my arm and made me sing "Oh Holy Night" at least twice more before we were able to find our coats and extricate ourselves from the party.

Barb and Jane never did let me live down my "fan club" for as long as we ran together. And I never forgot the night I heard the "Convicted Felon National Anthem" at Norma's Christmas party. All in all, it was a good time. Some of those guys ended up being pretty good guys caught in crappy circumstances.

What Acidman said about the law of the hills? Well, if some of these fellows had been back home in those hills instead of in Indianapolis, they'd have never had to learn that song in some confined concrete room with bars on the windows and bars on the doors. They'd have been just good ol' boys like everyone else.

Template Stuff

Okay, I know some of you are awesomely talented computer types that make this novice look like a babe in the woods. (Anytime I can look like a babe in anything is a good time for me but we won't go there.) Well, it's true, I can talk a good talk and I do manage to tweak my own templates without hurting things too much, but what I want is completely beyond my skills.

My blogroll has gotten really long. It could be a lot longer, with all of the reciprocal links I'd like to get up, but the list is so long it's getting to the point that good blogs are getting lost in them.

The solution? Actually, I'd like a three column template with set-size gutters and a center column that expands and contracts for screensize, etc. I've seen a lot of three column sites where the center one doesn't contract, and text gets lost under the right gutter. Hate that. There has to be a way around that.

Any ideas? I can't just email Sekemori and ask her for a new template, as it's beyond my resources to pay for one right now. I'd even take one in the wrong colors that I could re-work in the stylesheet to get right.

Nothing fancy, no background patterns or graphics. Clean, just like what I have so that I can get some of the stuff off the bottom of that gutter up to the top where folks can see them. And expand my capabilities as far as the blogroll and other cool stuff.

I use MT v2.6sumpinorother, if that makes a difference. If you know of a place where I can get one, let me know.

I might even cook for the one what helps me. You never know. I make a mean pork roast and cornbread dressing. Green tomato pie sweet as Aunt Drucie's apple pie. Greenbeans with onions and jowl bacon. Sweet tea clear enough to read through it. Corn pudding. Hot biscuits and home made rhubarb preserves. Make it all right there in your kitchen so it's hot and fresh and delish..... Sound like a deal?

Tag, you're it.

Good sleep last night. It came easily, gently for a change, without being actively pursued to exhaustion. And when it arrived it was a restful sleep that recharged and restored all aspects, body, mind, soul, and even a few other things that I had forgotten could use benefits of a peaceful sleep.

Restful, tender sleep hasn't come easily to me in recent memory. It hasn't been a part of my life for many months. I can almost tell you the days that my mental or emotional gymnastics didn't keep me up, and they almost all lead back to days when I was able to open-up and share a piece of my heart or my soul, or even my womanhood. Sometimes it has been shared over the telephone.

That something as insignificant in our everyday lives as a telephone could bring satisfaction and fulfilment to a person's psyche is fascinating and frightening simultaneously. I'm amazed that I will share things with a person over the phone within very few minutes of dialing that I would not have revealed in person for hours, days, weeks, maybe even ever. But the safety of that thin little wire and tinny speaker gives me a courage, albeit probably a false one.

Sadly, I know I may never see face to face the person with whom I have had a humorous, touching, or arousing conversation over the phone. I may never have the opportunity to personally share the intimacy that we shared in my soft bed in a darkened room, alone but for the touch of a piece of electronics pressed against my ear. But the verbal intimacy we did have was sweet and genuine and felt very, very real.

It sent away my demons for just a little while and gave me a delicious little thrill. Hearing my name said with that soft accent sent a little charge of electricity through my belly and into the darkness.

And it gave me enough peace with myself that I was able to rest peacefully for a few hours. I was reminded that I was still a woman, still desirable, still able to... Well, that's for an email, not here.

I can only hope that my phone will ring. Soon. I enjoyed myself immensely.

Tag. You're it. .

Plug-o-rama!

If you haven't linked Weasel Teeth yet, you need too.

And Caught in the Crossfire. Lovely and opinionated lady. Operative word being Lady. Mind your manners.

And while you're at it, Loyal Citizen Beth, who's a lovely person all the way around. And she's such a new blogger, I don't think she has more than half a dozen links.

Go, Read, Link! Support some good bloggers. Give them a link. Remember, there's always room for one more in your blogroll.

And while you're at it, go look at the Spousal Unit's blog. Yeah, yeah, go read him and drop him a link too.

(Some folks are "link whores" but I'm a Link Pimp.) .

Tomorrow's Thursday...

Tomorrow's Thursday and the last official day of my short vacation. I have actually accomplished nothing on my to-do list except an extended session of "slug-o-rama" and an entire day nekid blogging. For all of you who conversed with me in IM over the week, I'll never tell whether or not it was when we were online. If thinking of that bothers you, seek counseling.

Can I hear an "Amen" for three days of complete Sloth? Thank you brothers and sisters.

Oh, and Skyy melon vodka is delightful.

Telephone talk.

This has been a week for meeting people I admire. This evening, I was able to speak with someone I've always looked up to as a writer, even though all I've ever read was his blog.

You know, it's absolutely true that cream rises. He writes like he speaks and he speaks like an old friend. He's just as comfortable as soft old jeans and an oversized t-shirt , cuddled on the couch with a hot coffee on Saturday morning.

Not to mention that I left the conversation with a renewed appreciation for him as a human being. I don't meet true, old time gentlemen very often anymore. Such a loss for us all that they have gotten rarer than hen's teeth in this self-centered, gratification oriented world.

Yes, it has been a very good week. I look forward to another conversation soon.

No, not a tease...

I have never been what most men call a "tease." Earthy? Yes. Adventurous? Yes again. But never a tease.

I have always enjoyed the give and take of a good conversation with a man. I like it when I can surprise one with a quick double entendre or a sly verbal or written "wink-wink" that he doesn't catch until a few moments later and it makes him laugh a good honest laugh. And it's even more fun when he can catch me with a little wordplay that brings up my laughter. I've been told my laugh makes it all worthwhile. It's been described to me as a ringing laugh, like a little bell. I don't know how it sounds to a man, but it seems to be pleasant enough to some men that they will do amazingly silly or sweet things to hear it.

I enjoy watching how a little honesty on my part will open a man up, peeling away the distant toughness to reveal a smooth eagerness underneath. I love it when you tell a man how much you appreciate some aspect of him and you can see his confidence build and his demeanor strengthen. But not flattery, not empty compliments thin as tissues. Facts, truths, things I have observed or experienced and appreciated as beauties, strengths, desirables in them: these are the things I tell a man, not little lies and flatteries.

No, it's not a game. It's not a tease like some women relish and instigate to gain some sort of control over a man or a situation. That's dishonest and I have no time for women like that. I watch women like that and I call B*ll Sh*t every time. It hurts to watch while they shackle the little boy that lives at the center of all of those layers in most men, imprisoning him for their own selfishness, leaving wounds that never heal, scars that never fade.

And the point to this post? Well, it's a thank you to someone for engaging me today and making this old broad feel like a pretty young woman for a while. He made me feel like a walking scandal. That and I wanted to let him know that all those little things revealed are little truths. I like all of those little details, all of those means and methods and ways, and then some. But that's for e-mail, isn't it? I quite simply love an invigoriating e-mail from a fascinating man.

Just remember, a moment or a word of flirtation isn't necessarily a tease. Sometimes a good flirtation is just a sneak peek down a person's backroad. At least this old girl can dream about taking that hilly, narrow blacktop with the yellow pines on one side and the rolling fields on the other.

How did that happen?

Somehow I managed to spring out of Marsupial Madness and into the land of Large Mammals. Amazing.

It won't last, but it sure looks good over there, doesn't it? Maybe if I got off my adipose-enhanced backside and reciprocated some links, it might stay a while.

It could happen.

Update: Well, I would update my blogrolls with lovely reciprocity, but it seems Moveable Type is having a bit of a problem and won't allow me to rebuild my templates. Well, as soon as it's functioning correctly again, I'll be back on the case.

Taking from the Prozac™ well.

What an interesting situation this is.

Seems they prescribe so much Prozac in Great Britain that it is showing up as groundwater contamination at measurable levels.

If this is the case, why haven't we seen a change in the levels of Moonbatterie? Arresting little old men for defending themselves, designing a memorial to look like the watering system at a high-tech hog farm (and not doing it well enough to even work correctly), the list goes on and on.

Perhaps it just hasn't built to the proper levels in their systems yet. We can only hope.

We've got spirit, Yes we do!

Wow. School is getting ready to start in most cities and all over America, Yearbook committees are forming.

Ah, the yearbook. A motley connection of photographs of groups in straight lines, incomplete lists of names, bad-hair pictures... A slice of life from four of the most miserable years of most peoples' lives.

And bloggers are no exception. Yes, we too have our embarassing yearbook, and the Commissar has what is probably the last remaining copy of it. And he was kind/cruel enough to post a few gems from it.

Go check out the Blogville HS Yearbook of 1965.

Eeet Wasss Hell!

Two french internees from Gitmo were released back to the French Government, and they exclaimed unanimously that "Eet Wass Hell!"

"Oh, eet wass uneeemaginable. Vee were not allowed zee Evian at all! And zhere wass not one scrap of Brie! Such eenhumaneetee wass almost unbearable! Vee shall nevarr be zhee same!"

Pu-lease.

A letter from Sassi said "bizarre" medicines had been given to inmates at night and that one caused some prisoners to break out in spots, Debray told reporters. He gave no other details.

Spots? Probably skeeter bites from living in the open air in a tropical area. Or sand lice. Probably brought them to Gitmo in their own bodyhair. And given the state of the health care system in France these days, I'm not surprised they didn't recognize Asprin when they saw one.

Debray said he would request a full medical examination for his clients when they were brought before anti-terrorism judges Saturday.

Good. Give them a full medical exam. Make the rectal part particularly thorough. Use an extremely excitable, un-neutered, Drug Sniffing Dog as an assistant. It's for their own good. Don't forget to get pix, as I hear Paris Match will probably snap them right up.

"Eet ees not Pornographique! Eet ees zee Art!"

Sure.

Road Trip

One of the perils of being a military kid is that it tends to give one a bad case of chronic cyclical wanderlust. It gets terribly difficult to remain in one place, in any one situation for more than a few years without that stirring deep inside that begs to be released.

Maps and brochures and airline ads begin to cast their intended spell, and defenses weaken. The car is made more travel-worthy, and a selection of snacks mysteriously is secreted away, "just in case".

One day, on awakening and looking at the alarm clock with cheerfully goads you into wakefulness once again, that inner voice says it is time. A small bag is packed, sometimes no more than a fresh change of underwear and socks in a grocery bag, the car is gassed up, and the first road is taken.

Rarely does it matter which road. Almost any road is just fine most of the time. Other times, there's definite destination picked because it is either very frivolous, or very unexpected, but seldom both. It's as if the destination is as theraputic as the drive itself.

Rock City, Mammoth Cave, some obscure BBQ joint you saw on television... A person you know but haven't seen in years or one you simply want to meet and get to know...

So you drive. The radio voices change along the way every couple of hours, and the terrain grows flatter or more prominent. The look of the road signs change, and the flavors and sounds of the voices change too.

Hot coffee in the morning, a soft drink in the afternoon, and the destination looms closer. Check the wallet, fluff the hair, smooth the road-rumples from your clothes, and step into the moment. Chatting up the waitress at some truckstop. Sharing the counter space with the locals. Read the local paper and check the horoscope before starting the last leg of your journey.

Good food, good company, old friends and new friends.

It's time for a road trip.

Monday observations

1. I imagine that whenever Laura Bush has said "Shove it," there were no anatomical references involved.

2. Sunday's "Day by Day" is conclusive (and convulsive) proof that Chris Muir is a certifiable genus. Just arrow back to the July 25th cartoon.

3. The hormonal fluctuations of menopause can have an occasional very pleasant upside.

4. Listerine Breath Strips, Pop-rocks, and Halls cough drops can multi-task.

5. The school in my area is not on the traditional school schedule, and is instead a 12 month academy. I wouldn't have known this if I hadn't driven by the school on Friday and seen their sign. This means that instead of having until mid-August to prepare Anna for school, we have until 8am tomorrow. And I'm at work. Today and tomorrow.

6. Many of the problems in the world can be solved by a Furry Face.

7. I can't believe how very hard
Writing a sonnet has to be.
For not since nineteen seventy
have I once tried to ape the bard.
(or perhaps Bacon, such a card
as fooled the masses 'cross the sea)
From centuries past it torments me;
the sonnet serves as my petard.

Seems this is where the problem lay-
The rhyme scheme here demands a change
just when I seem to have it down.
A-B-B-A-A-B-B-A
I suddenly must re-arrange
blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah

Quiet nite, Giant Leap

In July 1969 I was a 12 year old former Air Force Brat, just starting my second year in a civilian environment. We lived about 20 minutes outside of Ft. Benjamin Harrison in a neighborhood off of Arlington Avenue in Indianapolis.

The house was a small rental. The furniture had survived several cross-country moves; some of it had crossed halfway across the Pacific and back intact. We had a yard, a real yard, fenced for our pleasure alone if so desired, not just a corner of some greater community green space between buildings in base housing. We even had a cat, a luxury we had never before been permitted by parents or those in charge of housing.

July 1969 was a time of rapid change, both in our home and in our country: new president, a long running war half a world away, school integration, suburban flight, hippies, Black Panthers, four seasons, schools with no programs for students after school or during the summer months. There wasn't even a lunch program. It would have been pointless, since the schools had no cafeterias for hot lunch or for eating one's sack lunch. You walked home and you walked back in 45 minutes. This was the case in the first two schools I attended in Indianapolis, and this was a big city in 1969, albeit a provincial one.

On that night in July of 1969 the house was small, air conditioning was for stores and restaurants, and the television was black and white and seemed made of cast iron when we tried to move it. The room was dark except for the flickering un-natural electric blue glow cast by the snowy screen. It filtered through the air and through the drapes of our front window as it did through countless other windows on our street and on streets all over the world that late, late night.

We sat in our nightclothes, pyjamas for me and my 10 yr old semi-awake brother, gown and duster for Mom, boxers and a white t-shirt for Dad. We sat there together and watched images sent to us from further than images had ever been sent before, of men who had traveled further than any man had traveled before. We watched and listened for what seemed hours to the excited, static-filled narration from Houston, and the calm narration of Walter Cronkite.

And we watched as a man took a lonely trip down a ladder to a surface that no man had touched before. Would he sink into the cosmic dust, the accumulation of millions of years of star-birth and galactic demise? What if it supported him but ultimately compromised that delicate womb of fiber and membrane that kept his entire environment with him? What if?

In July 1969, on that muggy warm night, in that dark livingroom, we watched history as that one vulnerable man lowered himself one rung at a time until there were no more rungs, then dropped ever so lightly onto the scarred and virgin surface of a place many thousands of miles from home. And more amazing still, that man's voice came to us through the tiny speaker on our television set with words forever etched into our national memory, even into the memory of this entire planet:

"One small step for man. One giant leap for Mankind."

To the men and women who made that night possible for us all, that memorable night a mere thirty five years ago, I give my heartfelt thanks. For those who sacrificed their lives to the Apollo Program just scant years before, I give my prayers. And to those men who risked their lives reaching further into the unknown than any man ever had, my gratitude.

Happiest of Anniversaries to the many people who made the accomplishments of Apollo 11 possible.

Evolution

This has been fascinating to watch from the perspective of another blogger. I suggest that you go to Michelle Malkin's blog and scroll down to July 15th posts and start reading back to the top. Of particular interest is the way the Terror in the Skies story has evolved over the course of the last two days.

It is an excellent example of the differences between responsible bloggers and irresponsible ones. I've seen plenty of new bloggers and even some battle scared old veteran bloggers who would have jumped on this in an entirely irrational manner. You won't see that here. Every post is well supported, thoughtful, and intelligent. Overall, you would never know she had been blogging for such a short time.

And don't say that her being a columnist and in the public eye for a long time is what made the difference. I will only counter with Rabid Rall as the prime example of contrary.

If you're not reading her at least once a week you're cheating yourself, people.

This should scare the crap out of you

From William at Political Blog for the Politically Incorrect we find an excellent series of articles. If you want to know what we are up against for what will quite likely be our lifetimes, I think this is a pretty darned good place to start.

It's a long read, and a valuable read. It will make you look at folks with a bit more scrutiny over the next several weeks. And it should.

Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4

And William, you are like so linked.

Operation Backpack

Looking for a project to get involved in? Something for your family or church group or chat room buddies? Want to make a difference in the lives of guys who took the hit for you?

The Wounded Warrior Project is an organization which provides support and resources for returning wounded vets as they go through the healing process and return to their homes and families. One of the things they sponsor is Operation Backpack. I suggest you take a look and see what you can do to help out.

I heard a spokesman for this group on Sean Hannity this afternoon. He had taken a large group of men from Walter Reed Army Hospital to the Freedom Concert last week, and had called to thank Sean for the wonderful time each of them had while at the concert. After listening to him talk about these guys, I decided to look at the site, and I recommend you all look. Then donate a backpack if you can.

Welcome!

A few Warm Welcomes are in order today.

First, Murdock the Crazy, a good person well met in the Loyal Citizens chat, has tentatively spread his wings and is joining us in Blog-Land. Things are still under construction at Blogging at 20,000 Feet, but go on over and lend some encouragement to a good man.

Also, I found a little gem at the hatching point while cruising my linkage at Technorati. The Cluebat is a welcome addition to the blogroll, if his initial post is any indication of good things to come.

Click the links. Spread some love. Feel the love. Support your fellow bloggers.

Watch out, foreign terrorists

Well, it's true. They've signed the law into effect allowing Alawi to declare Martial Law in Iraq.

Let's hope they make the most of it. Let's hope the civilian population continues to point out the foreign thugs who stop at nothing to return Iraq to the dictatorial state from which she struggles to emerge.

I wish I could remember who it was that said this in observation of Saddam Hussain's court apperance the other day. To paraphrase, he said that Saddam is something the Arab world has never seen before: A living Ex-Dictator. They've seen dead ones, their bullet ridden corpses all that remains after having been ousted by coup or in wars. But they've never seen one alive and in shackles, brought into a courtroom, full of impotent rage, powerless to change their state.

Just his existance challenges the status quo of the middle east and causes the sort of imported insurgency we see now. But on the converse, by seeing his impotence, his existance also seems to be encouraging the Iraqi population to take up arms against the foreign terrorists to take back their streets.

And so we now find them under the equivelent of Martial Law. Let's allow them to take back the their streets. They will. And the first thing they'll sweep from the gutters will be the Jordanians, the Syrians, the Yemenis, the Saudis, and the Iranians who falsely believed they could chase us out and re-enslave the Iraqis to protect their own dictatorships.

Parties to Allow Bloggers to Cover Conventions for First Time

Both parties will be awarding credentials to bloggers for their respective conventions, which could make for some extremely interesting reading over the next several weeks.

The article doesn't mention how many slots each party will award, but that the chosen few will be treated much like the journalists who cover the event for their outlets.

Wonder who will get the nod? So do I, and I've jotted down a little list of bloggers I'd like to see at the GOP convention.

Matt Margolis, of Blogs for Bush would of course be my first pick. B4B is an impressive site with a huge following and a widespread base of supporters. It would be safe to say he has earned a set of credentials.

Another Matt, of Blackfive, would bring a distinctly different perspective to convention reporting, one that we need to see represented.

Frank J., the reigning Master of IMAO would find endless fodder for his irreverant and stick-in-the-eye blog. Not to mention, it would be great if he could actually be there to see the GOP Ninjas.

Steve, the evil mind behind HogOnIce and MooreIsFat would be my next choice. For lots of reasons. He's perhaps the funniest serious blogger I've encountered. And he just might get Lauri Dhue's phone number out of it.

And to give Steve someone to buddy about with after Lauri rejects his amorous advances, I'd send Aaron the Rantblogger, a known accomplice and school chum. Not to mention an amazing political writer and all around great photoshopper. Imagine the trouble the two of them could instigate.

Too many guys? Well, personally, I think Lashawn Barber balances out most of them and would bring a clear and moral perspective. One of the best reads around, not to mention a woman of strong beliefs and convictions, Lashawn would certainly receive credentials were I the one passing them out.

Of course Glenn Reynolds PuppieBlender will be there. That goes without saying. He most likely already has his reservations booked.

To balance him out, I'd have to send The Commissar. Would that be great? Satire, Hard News, and Wonkette reports.

And no, I'd not give Wonkette credentials. Perhaps a subway pass so she has a reason for loitering in the stations, but not credentials.

How about you? Who would you give credentials to for the GOP convention? Even more fun, which conservative blogger would you sneak into the DNC convention? Misha would top that list, bar none. Put him in a vintage tie-dye and turn him loose.

Think of any more? Sure you have.

Convoy? Seriously?

2000 lawyers with gosh knows how many supporting staff, packed onto buses in a convoy into Baghdad to defend Saddam Hussain.

Even in Hollywood it doesn't get much better than this.

Maybe CW McCall will do a remake of his old Convoy/Rubber Duckie song for the soundtrack.

Or we could put Bert Reynolds and Sally Fields in souped up HumVee with a screaming chicken on the hood and do it Smokey and the Bandit style. They block for a column of Marines in transports, run from Sheriff Bin Ladin T. Justice, and call in airstrikes from units along the highway. Only this time, Toby Keith will do the theme song. Just update the old one, strap some balls onto it, and let it rip.

I think this could be a great movie. Great entertainment AND get rid of 2000 lawyers just lined up to defend a mass murderer. What could be better?

Beware! It's a blog.

Ah, another journalist/pundit/commentator has decided to write on the phenomenum that is Blogging. And, as usual, the headline hints deliciously at the outlaw aspect of both bloggers and their sites.

Why this interest in the 21st century equivalent of the Thomas Payne pamphlets or the 1960's mimeographed underground press? Surely there is no perceived threat to such bastions of credibility and veracity as the traditional print outlets?

The outbreak and acceptance of the 24/7 cable news outlets has sounded the death knell of a lot of traditional newspapers, with their immediacy and the "flash-bang" of instant, controversial, visceral videos. Outlets like the NYTimes, Chicago Tribune, LATimes have steadily lost both readership and advertisers over the last several years, and a greal of those have shot straight over to CNN, MSNBC, and Fox News. And in some small portion to the newsier blogs.

And there are as many reasons for people using the blogs as their news sources as there are people doing it.

People tired of hearing nothing but the media take on the WoT have begun to read people like Dr. Glen Reynolds' Instapundit, or the far reaching posters at Lucianne.com. Accessing Lucianne is like having hundreds of researchers at your beck and call, pouring over newspapers the world over for stories on every topic, from every viewpoint, 24 hours a day.

But it is the little bloggers that seem to attract the attention of the media the most. People who express opinions on everything from thong vs. total nudity, to the selection of the next president. Honestly, I haven't figured out why.

But every time they deign to cast their glance this way, we all see an increase in hits, and sometimes even find a few new regular readers. I guess this proves the old theatrical adage, that even a bad review is a good review. And so I must thank Regis Behe for whatever hits I may glean from his Entertainment section "piece" in today's Pittsburg.Live.

And Regis. If you're going to write copy on blogs or any other internet issues that references websites, have your editors place links where you reference sites. It's rude to do otherwise, and an inconvenience to your online readers.

Sometimes it's not censorship

When Misha nails it, Misha nails it.

Completely, no questions asked, no prisoners taken, nailed to the wall.

Don't get me wrong, I'm a firm and ardant supporter of the 1st Ammendment, and Misha is as well, but neither do I support the flagrant abuse of this freedom by persons and organizations bent on the destruction of this nation, her people, and her freedoms.

Go read, and read it well. Discuss it amongst yourselves.

Man Without a Country

I was able to procure a beautiful 1886 edition of Man Without a Country recently. Because of it being Independence day, I thought there was no better day for the reading of such a bit of history so I packed it up and carried it to work.

I was deep into it when this passage leapt from the page and seared itself into my consciousness. I share it with you now.

"Youngster, let that show you what it is to be without a family, without a home, and without a country. And if you are ever tempted to say a word or to do a thing that shall put a bar between you and your family, your home, and your country, pray God in his mercy to take you that instant home to his own heaven. Stick by your family, boy; forget you have a self, while you do everything for them. Think ofyour home, boy; write and send, and talk about it. Let it be nearer and nearer to your thought, the farther you have to travel from it; and rush back to it, when you are free, as that poor black slave is doing now. And for your courntry, boy," and the words rattled in his throat, "and for that flag," and he pointed to the ship, "never dream a dream but of serving her as she bids you, though the service carry you through a thousand hells. No matter what happens to you, no matter who flatters you or who abuses you, never look at another flag, never let a night pass but you pray God to bless that flag. Remember, boy, that behind all these men you have to do with, behind officers and government, and people even, there is the Country Herself, your Country, and that you belong to Her as you belong to your own mother. Stand by Her, boy, as you would send by your mother, if those devils there had got hold of her to-day!"

Richard Nolan,
Man Without a Country
by Edward E. Hale

Cagney and Lacy, step aside.

In a truly counter-culture move, women are signing up for and training to become members of the Iraqi Police.

I can hardly imagine what this is doing to the status quo in Iraq. I'm old enough to remember the controversy here in the late 1960's and early 1970's when women first started going to the academy and then started showing up on the street. These American women went through hell in some police forces, and this is considered a culturally enlightened nation.

This is going to be a long hard road for these brave women. Even the "friendlies" will be rooting for their failure. I, for one, will be rooting for their success.

Book'em, Batool!

Jack's Links!

Ever diligent in his pursuit of excellent linkage, Jack strikes again!

Army to Call Up Retired and Discharged Troops

Now, when they start asking for fat, old, halfblind, crippled up women with their own rifle, I'll be ready.

Child porn ok'd

No, Porn is not political speech, and yes, I'm tired of having to go through my 9 year old daughter's inbox every time she logs on because of the links in her emails.

Turkey Belongs in the European Union, Bush Says

In oh, so many ways. Give Ch-Iraq a run for his francs, er, euros, er, bloodmoney from Iraq... you know what I mean.

Thanks, Jack. And thanks for the kind words too.

Little Bits

I don't know about you, but I could do with a piece of Chocolate right now. Yes, a nice, rich, creamy chocolate.

Imported chocolate. Perhaps English.

Don't you think a nice bit of chocolate would be good right now?

_____________________________________

Sorry, but wouldn't this be a bit like drinking your bong water?

_____________________________________

Think it's safe to go to the movies? Think again.

And this guy didn't like W. Imagine what would have happened if he had said he was a Republican, Conservative, NeoCon, take your pick. And they call us the Brownshirts. You'll find, if you read any history at all, that this is a typical tactic taken straight from the playbook in 1930's Germany.

But we're the evil ones. Go figure.

What perfect baby?

I can't speak to this personally. I'm one of the apparent majority of people who has never become acquainted with a person with Downs Syndrome. My entire experience with it can be summed up in a visit with a geneticist while I was pregnant with Anna.

As a 36 year old prima gravis married to a man who's older daugher was born with a combination of cardiac malformations, I was told repeatedly that it was imperative that I be tested. No, not the simple blood test that can show the markers of 7 different genetic disorders. They insisted on the Big A, Amniocentisis, an experience which I can honestly say was potentially the worst, most painful experience of my life.

When it was all said and done, and I was sent home, I began to have symptoms of a miscarriage. The doctor who performed the procedure had not followed the most desirable protocol, and had done multiple perforations of the uterus. It was a terrifying several days. I somehow knew this was my final opportunity to have a child, and I believed that I was going to be robbed of this precious life.

The symptoms eased. I was able to go back to work. And the day came that the phone call came from the hospital with the results of my test.

Everything was absolutely normal and within acceptable parameters. Oh, and it's a girl.

It was only then, after weeks of worry and pain, that I asked them why they insisted on the amnio when the blood test would have given them most of what they wanted.

"Why, because at your age, the chance of producing a Downs baby is so much higher and this would give you the opportunity to terminate your pregnancy."

Even if the baby had tested positive, I wouldn't have done that. If that was the only real reason for this, why wasn't I told this weeks ago?

"Well, (pause while she considered my stone-age mentality) if you chose not to do anything about it, I guess this would have given you an opportunity to make any arrangements you may need before it gets here."

Yes, "it" instead of "your baby" was pretty much the way my baby was looked at by these "caregivers" at that hospital.

Well, it has gotten worse. In this commentary by Beverly Beckham, guest columnist at the Metro West Daily News, the quest for Baby Perfection has rampaged unchecked over the last 10 years. Even if you are a Pro-Choice individual, you owe it to yourself to read this piece.

She's right. It's beyond murder in the sense that it's the taking of a life. It it genocide. And the Downs children are not alone.

Something new

Feel like talking? Looking for someplace new to hide out in? Agree to keep your shoes off the table and your ashes in the proper recepticle?

Well, then by all means, just drop on in! Anytime!

There's a link in the gutter over there under the picture of that big old woman, too, incase you forget to bookmark this.

It's a mystery.

In the AP Breaking News this morning we see that investigators just don't know what to make of three bodies, an adult and two children tethered at the waist, that washed up on the shore of Lake Michigan on Saturday.

The discovery of three bodies lashed together on the shore of Lake Michigan baffled officials who had no reports of missing people or any word of a boat in distress.

Gee, let me get my Junior G-Man Decoder Ring and my official Homeland Security Action Pack and see what I can figure out on my own.

People who were never reported as missing. Hmm. Perhaps because the people who may have missed them didn't because they didn't realize they were missing? Perhaps this was the sum total of the family group that was vacationing together and they weren't reported as missing because Mom didn't expect them back in another week and knew they were beyond cellphone reach? Sound plausible?

"If you were in a boating accident, the adult would tie the children to the adult, so they would not get away from the adult," said Pleasant Prairie Fire Chief Paul Guilbert Jr.

Thank You, Paul, for this insight. I wonder, would you include in your list of Boating Accidents a hijacking? Piracy? Being pitched out miles from shore to fend for yourself because they needed the boat for ferrying personnel, ordnance, supplies to and fro?

There were no reports of missing boats on Lake Michigan in the past three weeks, and a Coast Guard helicopter sent out Saturday to scan the water found nothing, Riley said.

No word of a boat in distress. Let's see. If drug traffickers or smugglers or even terrorists wanted a boat, don't you think they'd know how to get it without giving the persons on board an opportunity to call for help? And this happened where again? Lake Michigan? As in close proximity to Canada, Refuge of the Foreign Terrorist Peaceful Foreign Dissenter?

Perhaps we need to send our law enforcement minions in Pleasant Praire, Wisconsin their own official Homeland Security Action Pack.

A letter from a good reader.

I get the most wonderful and informative e-mails from Jack, who comments frequently and always brings his smarts to the table with him. Today I got such a good one, I decided to share it in it's entirety instead of cherry-picking for a post.

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An example of the religion of peace, never saw or heard of it in the media, must not have been important like Abu Ghraib.

SAUDI ARABIA : SAUDI ARABIA JAILS INDIAN NATIONAL
Religious police tortured expatriate for ‘spreading Christianity.

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Here you go, Hanoi John's buddies are cleaning up his favored country.

VIET NAM : POLICE ARREST NGUYEN HONG QUANG
Activist pastor targeted for championing religious rights and ethnic minorities

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And the U.N. is going to look the other way while this honorable nation goes nuclear!

IRAN (ISLAMIC REPUBLIC OF) : POLICE ARREST CHRISTIAN PASTOR
Wife and teenage children also jailed.

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Women's rights in the land of enchantment.

Dialogue Forum Ends Amid Heated Debate
Maha Akeel, Arab News

JEDDAH, 15 June 2004 — The Third National Dialogue Forum wrapped up three days of session yesterday in Madinah amid heated arguments about previously taboo topics.

Some 70 participants, including 35 women, from all parts of the Kingdom took part in the discussion on women’s issues.

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Thanks, Jack. These things need to be made known.

Take the time...

...to read beyond the D-Day post.

Blogging has continued in the nether-regions below. Please slide on down and check out Thank You, on why the passing of Ronald Reagan affected me deeply, and Deport Soros Now, on just why we need not tolerate his attempt at manipulating our political process.

Fine, I'm a Sycophant, so sue me.

I see this weird story by way of a link at Lucianne about some blogger who could be Clooney, could be Afleck, could be Carey, could be Cowboy Bob from Channel 4 in Bloomington, Indiana for all we know. Whoever he is, he's caused quite a stir, because, well, because for the most part a huge section of the population are complete idiots, incomplete idiots, or fawning, sycophantic worshipers of all things Hollywood, LA, Beverly Hills, or Burbank. You get the picture.

Funniest thing about this "news article" is that the writer wasn't even bright enough to include a link. Go figure. You'd think if a journalist were writing about a blogger, ie, one who writes a blog, he would have the mental ability to make the leap of logic required to think about placing a link to that blog in the story. No such luck.

But Google is my friend, and here is the link. Rance, huh? And no one can figure out who you are? And we're surprised about that? Well, frankly I could give a hot damn who you are as long as it stays as irreverant and funny as the few posts I read. I'm keeping it linked here.

Oooo...

I consider myself lucky. I'm still alive. It's a long way from Texas to Indiana but it is almost a straight shot by interstate to St. Louis, then up I-70 practically to my front door, but nah... It won't happen...

I won't be on my way to my car some bright and early morning when a black throwing star whizzes past my head and sinks an inch into the doorframe close enough to my head for me to feel the slight stir it causes in the air. I won't be forced to turn quickly and drop into a crouch to evade the silent attack of Texas Ninjas. Nah.

But perhaps next time I should take into account someone else's intellectual property when Rallerizing Rall.

Or perhaps not. A little excitement is nice when you're a housewife in Indiana with nothing but your Russian 7.62x.54 to play with and no range within 50 miles that will let you use it. Ninjas, Texas Ninjas, might be just the answer.

Thanks, FrankJ, for the Lovely Linkage. Just teasing about the Ninjas...

You Must Read This Woman

The Spousal Unit directed me to read someone's site today because he gotten a comment from this particular blogger. He was mightily impressed that a "Large Mammal" like LaShawn Barber had even noticed him.

So in the interest of family unity, I tracked on over there and looked about and read several posts. It's safe to say I was impressed. She's an excellent read. If you don't have this blog in your blogroll, you're really missing something.

Get thee to LaShawn's blog and start reading. Extra credit for tripping through the archives.

Tempest in a B-cup...

In looking at my vast and numerous referals today, courtesy of Sitemeter, I found quite an interesting one. So I followed it back and found a fascinating item on woman bloggers and some of the attitudes toward them.

Go, read it, follow the comment thread and then come back. I'll wait... Okay, you back? Continue on.

She's never written about her boobs. Others on the list above have.

Have I ever written about my mammalial protuberances? I honestly don't remember if I have, unless it was to illustrate a point in the drag queen story, or some such nonsense.

I appreciate inclusion on your list. Some awesome bloggers there and I'm flattered to be included. But honestly, I don't blog for recogintion. It's fun when it happens, and there's that thrilling little rush when I see a trackback on a post I've written. But that's not why I'm here.

I blog as a safety valve, a pressure release, an outlet for my creative side when no other outlet is available. I sometimes blog for clarification, and for affirmation that I'm on the right track. And, admittedly, sometimes it's for vanity. There, I said it. It's a prideful, egotistical, vain thing sometimes. And I daresay it's the same for the men.

But I'll be the first to admit, as a woman, that as a rule I very seldom frequent other female bloggers. Woman bloggers, yes. I enjoy a good woman blogger who's maturity and intellegence sets the tone of her posts, and who's sense of humor reaches to me. But female bloggers? Please. Spare me.

I've done that link-to-link thing before and ended up on some incredibly mindless, extremely frivolous, and sadly inane sites by proud females who couldn't piece together a cogent thought if given superglue. They ping-pong about in their posts, gush about fads, trends, silliness, and never say anything. A box of scrabble tiles tossed about on the floor would make as much sense. And hostile? To navigate about their posts and their comments is to fly on leather wings with the harpies.

Sadly, these are the vast majority of female bloggers, and they damage the perception that others have of all XX chromosomed bloggers. For every Connie du Toit there are a hundred common-sense impaired girls screaming for the attention of the blogosphere. For every Serenity, there are a hundred simpering slips of girls slathering their popularity-angst on their blogs in insipid posts.

One can hardly blame the poor, misguided, testosterone dependent among us for the way we are perceived. In Ilyka's list, she named 35 woman bloggers. How many others are out there that are nothing more than "pretty templates" covered with classroom gossip, mall gossip, radio gossip, and "what I wore today"?

I'm certainly not excusing bad behavior on the part of some of the male bloggers, but I'm not laying the entire problem in their laps, either. Unless they give me a dollar. $20 if they want more than a minute. I chose the song. No AC/DC.

It's only the 18th.

Okay. Go look over there in the gutter on the right. Yeah, the place with my smiling yap, all the lists of bloggers and the buttons to Special Places.

Go down to the bottom. See the one with the Armed Chimp? Big BAG Day button? Click it.

It's not too late to kick in a few dollars to help Aaron buy his first gun. And that Springfield is a nice piece. A little bigger than I like, but I'm not the one who will be nursing sore wrists for a few hours after doing range time.

Of course, he's a man. Perhaps he exercises his wrists somehow...

Get thee to the Rantblogger and close that gap!

Counting down 'til Condi

I wish I were off on Thursday for the 9/11 Commission hearings. I'm going to have to supply my parents with a blank VHS tape so that I can see it in it's entirety when I get home. Fire up the microwave for buttered popcorn, and snag a diet Coke from the 'fridge. It's going to be better than CSI on Thursday night.

Oh, and I have such hopes for this (as I'm sure you can tell). I want to imagine that those lucky enough to be in the gallery or whatever passess as such will be asked to bring Hefty Bags and safety goggles with them. Just like those old Gallagher concerts with the Sledge-O-Matic™ and the seemingly infinite supply of fruits and other splatables.

Can you imagine seeing this on the backs of the tickets into the room that day?

"The 9/11 Commission will not be responsible for any damage done to private property, or to persons in attendance, during the testimony of Dr. Condi Rice. Neither will we be responsible for any mental illness or emotional trauma suffered by those in attendance who do not have the mental or emotional fortitude to watch the eviceration of former Deputy Advisor Richard Clarke. Medical personnel will be on site, and an ambulance will be on standby."

Damn, I wish I could see this as it happens. The last time a witness with this level of gravitas and potential testified in Washinton, it took weeks to get the stains out of the carpet. They're still finding bits of the Iran-Contra Committee in that room.

Oh, well. I can wait until I get home.