Pole Dancing In The Dark

Seriously, folks

Bring on the stupidity.

My thoughts are with those who have survived the storm, only to lose the things that are most important to them. That said -

If I hear of anymore people bitching about how hurricane Katrina has made their lives a little more inconvenient because the price of gas has gone up, I think I am going to track them down and beat them senseless with a two by four. Seriously – there are people that have lost their homes, their jobs, their cars, their families and their lives. Please take into account that there are a lot of people that are now worse off than you. Yeah, you’ll have to pay more at the pump, but at least you still have your car to take you to the job you still have or the home you still have to be with family you still have…

Asshats.

How to help: Hurricane Katrina Help Wiki

Xanga Exposed

Steve Huff does a wonderful job of exposing some rather disgusting and disturbing things about some of the webrings available to pedophiles.

This little quote pretty much sums up why it is so important for parents to monitor their kids' internet time:

Many of these blogs seem truncated, as if the perverts started out just fine and thought better of it, and forgot how to get in their account or something. That is the case with the following blogger. The most worthwhile quotes come from his profile:

So, this guy wants your pre-teen daughter, and has the computer savvy to hack his way into your desktop, too? He is also an excellent example of how much a curious sort of vapidity prevails in all these blogs, as if the writers, though adult males, truly have never matured themselves much beyond 10 or 11. Even the ones who pretend to a sort of self-mythologizing soulfulness are curiously flat.

*emphasis mine

Go read the whole thing, there is some very useful information on helping parents with how to find these predatorial webrings. Also, to contact Xanga to report abuse, go here. No one should have the right to prey on children.

Tip o' the hat: My little bro, The Trenchcoat.

Friday Joe

I'm sure you all remember how I met Joe back in April. Well an odd thing happened last Friday while I was meandering about town. I ran into another soldier in dire need of rescuing.

I was running out of an Italian bakery (after picking up some tasty cookies for my grand-ma-ma) because it was (finally) raining and I didn’t bother with the umbrella. As I was scurrying back to my car, I looked down… and there was GI Jack. Poor Jack had an unfortunate accident which had taken his arm off. Lucky for him, it wasn’t too far away from the horrid scene. I picked him and his arm up, and headed for home to see if reattachment was possible.

Meet Jack:

Getting ready for reattachment: (don't worry, Jack had been anesthetized at this point)

My finest surgical implements: (We will rebuild him, we will make him stronger, faster...)

The finished product: (I'll be glad if it stays reattached - frankly, I'm glad I didn't manage to glue my fingers together.)

As Jack sleeps, Joe stands guard. It's what he does and he does it well.

Jack is a good deal bigger than Joe, so I hope there isn't any of that alpha male bullshit when he recovers. Joe was here first. And, at this rate, I'll be lucky to have a squad in 2 1/2 years.

And since Joe started it all and it is the Friday Joe:

Intermission

Been really busy lately with ... many things, but I have a great many bitchy opinions on "Mother Sheehan" and what is going on in Israel. I just don't have the ambition to go into them all right now.

Instead, something lighthearted... thanks to Sheryl, that evil evil woman.

Harry Potter Personality Quiz by Pirate Monkeys Inc.

They forced me to... really

Because hubster is watching the O'Reilly Factor with John Gibson (I'm not fond of either him or bloviating Bill) and I don't feel like playing F.E.A.R. while my knight in slightly tarnished armour isn't around... and because everyone else seems to be doing it (it's about time there was a Monty Python Quiz)

Take the quiz: "Which Holy Grail Character Are You?"

The Killer Rabbit of Caerbannog
That's the most foul, cruel, and bad-tempered rodent you ever set eyes on!

That will teach ya to mess with me... mess with the bunny, you get the fangs...

And because Sheryl loves to torture me with quizzes that I can't take at work... (bad mom, bad!)

You are dignified, spiritual, and wise. Always unsatisfied, you constantly try to better yourself. You are also a seeker of knowledge and often buried in books. You tend to be philosophical, looking for the big picture in life. You dream of inner peace for yourself, your friends, and the world. A good friend, you always give of yourself first.

This just in...

This just in…

Peter Jennings is still dead.

I know, it seems almost crass to make fun of dead people, (almost) but I am not really making fun of him. I’m making fun of the media. I understand that he is one of the few noteworthy journalists that actually read very well from a teleprompter. Ok… that was mean. I never watched Peter Jennings… ever. I can’t tell you if he was any good at his job. I am assuming so as he kept it for a very long time. But there is one thing I know for a fact… the man smoked! The shock! The horror! The valuable lesson! The soapbox!

Why is it any time someone dies from cancer people feel it necessary to get on their anti-smoking soapboxes (and ex-smokers are by far the worst) before the body is even cold? Don’t you think that perhaps the more appropriate time for blaming the dearly departed for their death may be a little further down the road then 15 minutes after the announcement? His family is now in mourning and probably feeling bad enough about his cancer, and some self-righteous prigs feel it is necessary to point and bellow “THIS IS WHAT SMOKING DOES TO YOU, EVIL HEATHEN!!!!!!!!!!”

Now, as an ex-smoker, let me make something perfectly clear to all the non-smokers and the ex-smokers that have forgotten - it doesn’t matter how many times you tell a smoker that it is bad for their health, they will not and can not quit (successfully) until they are ready. The more you nag and berate, the more they will smoke out of spite. We’re kind of stupid that way. Also, keep in mind that smoking, like alcohol, heroin, cocaine and many other assorted drugs is addictive by nature. It just kills me that everyone treats smokers with disgust and distain while all the while making excuses for other addicts. The only difference is that smokers are the only addicts that can continue to positively contribute to society while in the mighty death grip of their favorite drug. So, don’t they deserve a little of the sympathy usually reserved for those morons that smoke, inject or pill themselves into oblivion?

And why is it that when some asshat movie legend or young star is found dead in a pile of his or her own vomit due to not knowing when to say when, it is the stuff of legend. Marilyn Monroe, River Phoenix, Sid Vicious, Janis Joplin, Chris Farley, John Belushi … why are they idolized for their stupidity and selfishness? And why are their deaths any more tragic then the death of a smoker?

But whatever…

As an ex-smoker I can say this: It is very difficult to quit smoking. There is so many different parts of that particular addiction which is why so many people backslide into the addiction. There is a whole ceremony to lighting up a smoke and it is terrifying to get on with life when you are no longer lighting up. And your body will sabotage you every chance it gets. I now smoke in my dreams, something I never did while smoking. I can’t drink alcohol without the instant craving for tobacco, I cannot smell a cigarette without salivating just a little, and being disgusted with myself for doing so… Peter quit smoking for 20 years, and backslid into the habit on 9/11. Should he be scorned for it? I can tell my readers honestly that if I had quit smoking before that day, I probably would have started up again. As it was, I spent a good deal of my time outside in the smoking area.

So, Pete … My non-judgmental sympathies to your family and may you rest in peace.

Friday Joe

Now, I realize today is only Thursday, but I am on vacation with the wonderous hubster tomorrow... so I don't know if I will get around to waking up updating... But I didn't want to miss the opportunity to salute the nations finest...

Before starting out on a hot day, Joe reminds us that salt does a body good. Now if only I can get the man to share.

Fortunate Kitties

Back in 1997, I worked with a girl who owned a cat that had serious health issues. Most of which were due to the fact that the cat was obese. (And I don’t use that term lightly.) The cat had the same frame as my little black kitty with about 20 extra pounds on it (I kid you not.) Yup. It was the first 28 pound cat I had ever had the experience of meeting. And bitchy? Yeah baby, that cat could my bitchiness to shame, which is why I felt such a strange affinity for her. Well, one day, Queen E came to work, beside her self with grief. It seemed that at some point during the evening, her cat had ceased walking normally. E woke to the sound of her kitty mewing for attention as she dragged her hind quarters along with her front paws. E took her to one of the all night animal hospitals to find out that the cat had damaged it’s spinal column (probably by jumping or falling with all the extra tonnage.) There were two options for Diva, a $5000 operation or being put down. E didn’t have the money, but couldn’t live with the idea of putting kitty down. She also wanted the chance to take her cat to her vet and see if there were any alternatives. I thought she was nuts.

Mind you, I had all ready owned and lost two dogs. The first one was put down because she had such horrible arthritis that she could no longer walk and the second – well, she was supposedly “given away” because she lost her mind due to neglect (I was away at college at the time – and this remains a point of contention with my parents). I honestly believe they lied to me about it to make themselves look better. The thing is, it didn’t help, puppy wouldn’t have ripped a leg off another dog if someone had actually taken care of the puppy while I was away. (I still get angry/nauseous when I think about it.) (And they wonder why they don’t have grandchildren… anyway, back to the subject…) My point being that I understood how attached someone could get to an animal, a pet, so I could understand the conflict. But I also thought she was nuts for even considering spending that much money on a cat that was already 13 years old. Especially after she had told me that she was still paying off the surgery for Diva’s legs (she had dislocated her “knees” – for a lack of knowing what they are actually called.) I tried to explain to her that putting the cat to sleep may well be the best option. She didn’t listen, nor did I expect her to. I probably seemed really heartless at that point. But there would never be a day that I would throw down a lot of money on an animal…

Until February of this year, when I found out that my baby, my little bitchy black kitty had a tumor on her thyroid which would kill her eventually. That’s when I had a change of heart on how much I was willing to spend to make her healthy. We went the most expensive route because it was the most effective and efficient. We nuked our kitty with radioactive iodine which annihilated the tumor and she was finally able to put on some weight. She went from 7 pounds in February to about 10 pounds now. She has definitely filled out nicely. Now if only I could get her to stop licking all her fur off.

Aside: I read on several pet sites that cats do that when they are bored. So I went out to the local Petsmart and loaded up with toys, drug rugs and catnip. I also purchased one of those wand like things with long string and a feathery colorful stuffed thing on the end of it. I have been tormenting the kitties for days with it because the site said to have “interactive play” with your kitties. Apparently I tormented the wee beasties with it too much. Well, one wee beastie in particular – for at 4:50 AM this very morning I was serenaded out of a sound sleep by way too vocal mostly Siamese kitty. She was bawling up in the attic (which, since the bat incident has always made me a little leery) non stop. After four minutes of listening to this, hubster went to investigate. As soon as he turned the light to the attic on, we heard her doing her duck impersonation. Hubster stayed up there for a while with her, while the suspense was killing me. I heard a lot of her quacking and meowing still. Finally, she settled down and hubster came back to bed.

I asked him if she was ok and he said, “In a manner of speaking.”
”what do you mean?” Asked I.
“You must of tormented her too much with that toy this afternoon, because she killed it.”
“What do you mean by killed it?” At this point I am imagining that she is all tangled up in the string part, and was choking on the toy.
“She ripped the stuffed animal part right off the wand, and was guarding it. She wouldn’t move until I congratulated her.”
Stupid cat. Next time, I’m going for a chinchilla…(end of long winded aside)

Any how, the reason I am writing about pets and what we are willing to do for them is that I was led to a website by Key Issues called Save Wampi. Wampi is a beautiful Maine Coon kitty that was apparently thrown off a roof of an apartment building by some assmunch. (For which I hope has Karma kick his/her ass.) The owners love their furbaby but have other financial obligations (like their daughter) so they are asking the World Wide Web for help. I am pleased as a human that the WWW has responded so well, but more money is needed. Hubs and I were lucky enough that we could afford Shadow’s radiation treatment, (although many people told us how crazy they thought we were) but not everyone is as fortunate as we were.

Just thought I would let you all know.

And for anyone wondering what happened to Diva, Queen E’s vet recommended a type of kitty brace. I don’t know the specifics but I have been led to believe that Diva actually got better and was still alive the last time E and I talked (which was about a year or two ago.)

Hatin' the Times

and lovin' getting the hate on...

I’ve been on again off again trying to type up some real life entry for this… whatever this has become… So, I am just going to say what’s on my mind, and be done with it…

First off, I cannot even express to my gentle readers about how much I despise the sleazy sub culture over at the New York Slimes with their inability to show even a modicum of respect to the family of Supreme Court Nominee Roberts. I’m sorry, but considering the noise being made about how people’s rights to privacy are being invaded due to the Patriot Act (which I for the most part agree with) I am finding it difficult to believe that one of the loudest denouncers of said act are now going after PRIVATE AND SEALED ADOPTION RECORDS of a nominee’s family. And it’s not just the rights of that family that are threatened, but the rights of the birth mother and her family. Where the hell is the ACLU on this one?

Are these sewer dwellers so obsessed to dig up any morsel of dirt that they are eager to take their loathing out on an innocent little boy, consequences be damned? What is it about Roberts that has the feeding frenzy of the media even whipped up to a manic state? Is it just because Bush nominated him? Or is it because he is Catholic?

Mostly it pisses me off because it hits so close to home. I was adopted in an age where all adoption records were sealed. This was done to protect the birth family, the adopters and the adoptee. It was done so that once the adoption was finalized; the birth parents couldn’t yank the child out of the adoptive parents’ hands. This is something that has changed dramatically since then. There are now alternatives to the adoption process so that if the birth family wants to be involved in the child’s’ life and the adopting family has no issue with it, they can be. Open adoptions happen constantly these days. So, if that was something this child’s birth mother was interested in, that’s how it would have went down.

As an adoptee, I respect my birth mother’s wishes to remain anonymous, which is a major reason I have never sought to have my own records unsealed. I even know enough about her (because the lawyers were such idiots) to go looking for her without going to court. But here’s the thing, folks… what does the adoption records have to do with the Supreme Court and more importantly, what right does a newspaper (asshat slimebags pigfarts) like the NYSlimes have to try and force a judge to open these records? Absolutely none.

Here’s another point – what if the Roberts family had decided not to tell their children that they were adopted? It’s their right to decide how and when their children find out. Granted, these kids are still too young to grasp the concept, but I highly doubt with the current smear fervor going on at the Slimes, that the assnuggets would have even taken the impact on the children into account no matter what the age. How would anyone one else feel if they learned of their adoption through a shitty rag of a cage liner? So, not only is the NYSlimes violating at least two families rights to privacy, they are also taking away the parents right to inform their children about their background as they see fit.

Anyway, that was my rant on the subject.

A long overdue hat tip to Powerpundit for both this and this as inspiration.

Oh, for Bog's Sake!

I really really really wish that there could one day be an intelligent discourse in politics that doesn't use the term "Just like Hitler." Asshat, if Blair was just like Hitler, there would be a sudden drop in population of Muslims.

Mosque chairman sparks fresh row

"He [Hitler] was democratically elected and gradually he created a bogey identity, that is, the Jewish people, and posed to the Germans that they were a threat to the country.

"On that basis, he started a process of elimination of Jewish people."

Um, excuse me for a moment... but isn't that exactly what extremist fanatical Muslims are trying to do to "the West?" Isn't calling the US "The Great Satan" demonizing her people?

Which leads me to another tangent.

On Friday I had posted a hot headed reactionary diatribe on this article:
Protesters appear at service for Marine.

I went off in a rant about how people like this "Reverand Phelps" were the reason so many "people" felt justified for hating Christians. But that wasn't what I meant. I meant that Mister Asscrumpet Phelps was a disgrace to the term "Christian" as well as a disgrace to the human race. This family was merely burying and memoralizing the death of this man who gave his life in service to his country.

If I had annoyed or upset or offended anyone with the earlier post, I do extend my deepest apologies.

Tip of the Hat to:News of Doom and Little Green Footballs

Friday Joe

Respect the Joe!

Even the Shadow knows the power of the Joe!

All your bases are belong to us

This explains everything I thought I understood about Star Wars. It is so much clearer thanks to our Chinese friends that translated for us.

Star Wars - Backstroke of the West

I have a feeling this is going to fill the geek void after the hype over "w00t" and "All your base are belong to us" died down. Thank you Ystros for the best laugh I have had in a long long time.

Email Thursday

Hubster just sent this to me. I am not sure if it has been around the block a few times or what have you, but it is my first time seeing it. And I wanna share...

"We the sensible people of the United States, in an attempt to help everyone get along, restore some semblance of justice, avoid more riots, keep our nation safe, promote positive behavior, and secure the blessings of debt free liberty to ourselves and our great-great-great-grandchildren, hereby try one more time to ordain and establish some common sense guidelines for the terminally whiny, guilt ridden, delusional, and other asshatted bed-wetters. We hold these truths to be self evident: that a whole lot of people are confused by the Bill of Rights and are so dim they require a Bill of NON-Rights."



ARTICLE I: You do not have the right to a new car, big screen TV, or any other form of wealth. More power to you if you can legally acquire them, but no one is guaranteeing anything.

ARTICLE II: You do not have the right to never be offended. This country is based on freedom, and that means freedom for everyone -- not just you! You may leave the room, turn the channel, express a different opinion, etc.; but the world is full of idiots, and probably always will be.

ARTICLE III: You do not have the right to be free from harm. If you stick a screwdriver in your eye, learn to be more careful, do not expect the tool manufacturer to make you and all your relatives independently wealthy.

ARTICLE IV: You do not have the right to free food and housing. Americans are the most charitable people to be found and will gladly help anyone in need, but we are quickly growing weary of subsidizing generation after generation of professional couch potatoes who achieve nothing more than the creation of another generation of professional couch potatoes.

ARTICLE V: You do not have the right to free health care. That would be nice, but from the looks of public housing, we're just not interested in public health care.

ARTICLE VI: You do not have the right to physically harm other people. If you kidnap, rape, intentionally maim, or kill someone, don't be surprised if the rest of us want to see you fry in the electric chair.

ARTICLE VII: You do not have the right to the possessions of others. If you rob, cheat, or coerce away the goods or services of other citizens, don't be surprised if the rest of us get together and lock you away in a place where you still won't have the right to a big screen color TV or a life of leisure. This includes music/video piracy, stealing cable and filtching software. If you didn't buy it, it isn't yours.

ARTICLE VIII: You do not have the right to a job. All of us sure want you to have a job, and will gladly help you along in hard times, but we expect you to take advantage of the opportunities of education and vocational training laid before you to make yourself useful.

ARTICLE IX: You do not have the right to happiness. Being an American means that you have the right to PURSUE happiness which, by the way, is a lot easier if you are unencumbered by an over abundance of idiotic laws created by those of you who were confused by the Bill of Rights.

ARTICLE X: This is an English speaking country. We don't care where you are from, English is our language. Learn it or go back to wherever you came from!


(lastly....)

ARTICLE XI: You do not have the right to change our country's history or heritage. (edited to dissolve the illusion that I agree with the seniment. I don't.)

Sensible people of the United States speak out because if you don't, insensible people will.

If it's called common sense, why don't more people have it?

Dammit, snagged again

the Idiot Savant (34% dark, 56% spontaneous, 61% vulgar)

your humor style: VULGAR | SPONTANEOUS | LIGHT You like things silly, immediate, and, above all, outrageous. Ixne on the subtle word play, more testicles on fire, please. People like you are the most likely to RECEIVE internet forwards--and also the most likely to save them in a special folder entitled 'HOLY SHIT'. Because it's so easily appreciated, and often a little physical, your sense of humor never ceases to amuse your friends. But most realize that there's a sly intelligence and a knowing wink to your tastes. Your sense of humor could be called 'anti-pretentious'--but ironically, that definitely indicates you're smarter than most. PEOPLE LIKE YOU: Johnny Knoxville - Jimmy Kimmel

I blame this on Sheryl.
And I am not sure I agree with it...

Well, lookie at that

I just realized that I had a blogiversary coming up... so I went looking through all my old archives and realized that I didn't have one coming up, it is today. So, Happy Blogiversary to me. For four years I have been online journaling/blogging whatever you want to call it. It seems impossible that it was so long ago, It seems impossible that it was only four years. How the world has changed, how I have changed, how life has changed.

All those old journals are now just mere memories. I archived the entries and deleted each one. (Well, I didn't archive the blogspot one.) I have kept in touch with some of the people that I met at my first journal site, including (and most importantly) Linda and her hubby.

I could recount how displaying my life in such a public way has influenced the way I look at myself and my writing, but it would all be a lie. It hasn't, other than pissing some people off, scaring some away or getting to know new virtual friends. So, I guess it isn’t a complete lie. I’ve traveled far to meet some wonderful people and met up with others in my hometown. Each experience has given me a different way to assess my life and myself as well as the world around me. Each meeting has left me a richer woman.

But enough sentimental blathering. I have decided (as was tradition long ago) to post the very first journal/blog/online diary entry I have ever written.

DediCATed to my bat chasing muse, the one that got it all started.

From August 1, 2001:

Much to my amazement, there was a bat in my belfry this morning. No, seriously... well, ok... attic is probably a more appropriate description. Now, this is not the first time I have ever seen a bat, but it was the first time I had ever seen one so close... and most certainly the first time I have ever seen my prim and proper but dysfunctional part Siamese cat chasing one. But I guess since a bat is just a mouse with wings, she was just heeding her call to of the wild. Which is fine, except I don't want to have to be the one cleaning up the mess if she ever actually caught it. Nor would I want to clean up the guano from some obscure hard to reach corner. Nor would I want to have to find it by following my nose to some teeny crack in the drywall after it started decomposing... so the choice seemed very simple to me...

wake up the hubster, and make him take care of it...

Now, mind you, I am not one of those helpless female types that goes screaming everytime an uninvited guest happens into our happy home... I kill my own spiders, thank you very much, but since men are born as the hunter/gatherers of the tribe, I felt it was his job to corral or kill the offending party. To be honest though, neither one of us were big on killing the helpless little creature, because it may not have known the rules. He might have not taken the left turn at Albuquerque like he should have, but by no means does that warrant the death penalty. (besides, we have more offensive invited guests... and we haven't killed any of them... yet... but none of them are worthy of us spending jail time on anyway.)

Hubster was still half asleep when I exclaimed that our petite kitty was chasing a bat, and jumping around like a lunatic to try to catch it (which was the whole reason I even investigated the attic) and he thought that I was being delusional... it was, after all 5 AM in the morning. But once he verified the supposed sighting, he got dressed and shut himself and kitty in the attic with our little rodent guest. He said he just wanted to catch it and let it loose outside and I did agree with him... but... what if the damn thing had rabies? Is the little guy worth getting a series of shots in the stomach? (Do they even do that anymore?) And at that point, the critter would have to be killed anyway.
So, after knocking the poor thing senseless with one of my dress shoes (trust me, you could take out a grown man with one of my shoes) and then losing it for a few minutes, my husband called down to me to come up with a flashlight and help him look for it.
I got dressed
grabbed the flashlight
went up the stairs, and spotted it right away.
In the darkest corner, behind the cat toys.
I pointed it out to him and he kept saying
"No, that is just the toy mouse they keep hiding. You bought it and gave it to them."
"Yes, and I am telling you right now that you cannot confuse one of the toys with a bat. They don't have wings, and they are all plaid... this one is brown."
he pushed the object in question with a piece of packing foam rubber, and it turned and started making this indescribable noise. Hubster turned and looked at his rather smug wife at this point, then picked up a 2 x 4. Well, we all know the end of this story... poor little guy...
We both feel really bad about it.
But the cat was rather arrogant the rest of the morning...

News of Doom gets own Website

News of Doom

Little Bro has been busy. He has set up a website for a topic that he often posts about on his blog. Check out News of Doom and say hey to Trench.