Okay, kids. I know it's been FOR-EV-ER since I posted, and truth be told, with the whole move and everything, I'm still not convinced I have the energy to post . . . HOWEVER, I was up late last night watching late night television (welcome to the world of the newly unemployed), and I somehow happened upon My Strange Addiction on TLC.
Holy Ramona and Beezus!
I totally lucked out, because I had to have caught the most interesting episode, possibly ever . . . and by interesting, I mean interesting like Faces of Death, interesting. I mean, this shit was bananas, b-a-n-a-n-a-s! I've seen some pretty crazy stuff in my day, but I'm pretty sure my mouth was gaping open in horror for the duration of the show. I just couldn't tear myself away, even though it might have been worse than that terrible email my good friend Shy (ol' dependable Shy, who always sends me shit I can never quite erase completely from my brain) sent me (with pictures, of course), about texting whilst driving . . . and that email was bad. You're just going to have to take my word for it
Okay, so enough of the dramatic introduction. This woman's strange addiction was . . . (drumroll please) . . . she eats her dead husband's ashes. Close your mouth; I'm being serious. She. Eats. Her. Dead. Husband's. Ashes. Like, wets her finger, then rolls it around in the bag full of ashes in his urn, then licks every last morsel off of her finger until it's shiny clean. The worst part? She said that they taste like rotten eggs . . . but that hasn't stopped her yet. She samples the Fun Dip about six times a day, and she has already consumed a pound of his ashes; only five pounds remain. Sick yet? I couldn't make this shit up if I tried. See for yourself . . .
. . . As effing disgusting as this story is, I think it's really sad. This woman is obviously unbalanced. I mean, I love my hubs; I really do. And I'm sure that if I [God forbid] lost him in some sort of freak accident/health emergency, that I would probably go off the rails for a little while. But I'm pretty sure I wouldn't carry his ashes around with me everywhere I went. I definitely wouldn't cook meals for him; I barely do that now! The thing is, I actually feel kind of sorry for her . . . but I just can't wrap my mind around how she got there. I do understand not wanting to brush off your husband's ashes like random dirt or dust, but to eat them? That would never even occur to me.
I just had to share that tasty little morsel with you. I hope to be back on track with my daily posts sooner than later. There definitely hasn't been a shortage of things to talk about! I'll check in soon, I promise. xo
Showing posts with label food for thought. Show all posts
Showing posts with label food for thought. Show all posts
Monday, August 8, 2011
Friday, July 1, 2011
Anything You Can Do, I Can Do Better.*
It seems that there is finally a declared victor in the age old battle of the sexes. Time Magazine posted an article a couple of days ago, entitled simply, "Why Women Are Better at Everything." Uh, hello! Finally! I'm pretty sure I've been trying to convince my husband of this cold, hard, fact for the entire six years I've known him (much to his chagrin).
"What's the problem with men? 'There's been a lot of academic research suggesting that men think they know what they're doing, even when they really don't know what they're doing,' John Ameriks, the author of the Vanguard study, told the New York Times."
*blink blink blink* No comment.
Interestingly enough, scientists believe that this advantage that women have over men is due in part to biology. Apparently, men's testosterone levels surge, affecting their willingness for risk-taking and also gives them "an attitude of infallibility." Lucky for us [superior] women, we only have 10% of that testosterone, i.e., we don't have those same primal, barbaric urges that drive us to do dumb stuff. We're just sweet, nice to look at, smell pretty, and gently guide the men in our lives in the right direction when they mess up.** Because hey, that's what we're here for. Sure, Eve allegedly ate the apple from the forbidden tree. But probably only because poor Adam was hungry and couldn't fend for himself. Somebody had to do it. I mean, just look at lion prides.*** The lionesses do all the hunting and the real work . . . and the lions (king of the jungle, my ass) just lay around and sleep all day. So today, ladies, we celebrate ourselves, each other, and just overall girl power! Because anyway you look at it, girls rock. And like it or not, we're always #WINNING.
*Okay, guys. Be warned this is a very girl power oriented post. Read at your own risk of feeling slightly inferior. Please don't take offense! The content was written very tongue-in-cheek and meant simply to elicit laughter. I'm not male bashing. Too much testosterone or not, we still love you. Somebody's got to. ;)
**Oh yeah, and we don't do things like burp or go #2. Because that's not very ladylike, and we're the image of perfection.
***I have a small confession. I have this new found obsession with Animal Planet, so don't be surprised if a lot of random animal references pop up from here on out. I'm kind of an expert. Thanks.
Thursday, June 23, 2011
It's High Time . . .
. . .that the Federal government legalize marijuana, don't you think? Don't worry, agreeing with that statement doesn't make you a raging pot head, or a drugged-out hippie. What it makes you is practical. No, really. I was flipping through the channels late last night, and happened upon a documentary on the History Channel, called "Marijuana: A Chronic History." Wow. Talk about mind blowing. The statistics alone are enough to make any logical person think twice about the legalization of marijuana. Don't believe me? See below, naysayers. You just might learn something (all facts taken from the aforementioned documentary).
Did you know . . .
But all of that aside, the real fact that every taxpayer should know is that our Federal government spends about $13.7 BILLION on marijuana possession crimes. I kid you not. Almost fourteen billion dollars to enforce laws that prohibit a drug that is proven to be far less harmful than tobacco. Really?! So here's my question: when will the government wake up and smell the cannabis and realize that it would greatly behoove our wonderful country if everybody just would relax and go ahead and legalize marijuana? I mean, this is really ridiculous. Let's face facts, people are never going to stop smoking pot. It is impossible to completely eradicate it; therefore, it is impossible to truly prohibit it. So why not make a profit off of it? The government is doing itself (and us taxpayers) a huge disservice by refusing to stop the prohibition and demonization of marijuana. If they would just go ahead and legalize it (and, in turn, tax the mess out of it), do you know how much they could make in tax revenue?? Well, tobacco and alcohol sales generate over $17 billion in tax revenue, alone. So if that is any indication, assuming marijuana would be taxed at a rate similar to that of tobacco (40-50% excise and sales tax), a $40 billion marijuana market (the tobacco market is about $75 billion) would yield about $17-20 billion in tax revenue (See diagram below).
Now, wouldn't that $20 billion be helpful, considering our current national budget calls for deficit spending . . . not to mention the tiny little detail of our national debt, which at last count was $14,447,351,480,691. No, wait. It's $14,447,351,500,336 now - because it's going nowhere but up . . . by the second. Have you ever seen so many commas in a dollar figure? Do you even know how to say that number out loud?? It's depressing. Apparently, America is just a nation with overall bad credit. So wouldn't you think that $20 billion in marijuana tax revenue could maybe do a little bit of good? Maybe? Especially when you take into consideration that legalization would also take away the need for that pesky $13.7 billion being spent to wage war on a relatively harmless substance. Oh yeah, and it would help with overcrowding in jails/prisons, AND offer the enterprising, marijuana-selling citizens of America an opportunity to do business on the up-and-up, without need for concern about imprisonment. Sounds like a win-win to me.
Listen, I'm not trying to force my humble opinion on you. If you agree with the demonization of marijuana* and cannot at all see the positives associated with its legalization, that's your business. All I ask is that you really weigh out the pros and cons. Remember, just because it's legal, it doesn't mean you have to smoke it; it just means you can. Wouldn't it be refreshing to have the option? Isn't that the premise that our country was founded upon? Democracy and the freedom of choice? I'm just saying. I don't smoke pot, either . . . but I'm fairly reasonable and can see that there are some major benefits to its legalization. For your convenience, I've given you a head start by including the first 15 minutes of that crazy informative documentary. Do me a favor and check it out! Do some research. Read the facts. If you find yourself nodding your head and suddenly agreeing vehemently with the points I made above, don't be surprised. It really is the practical choice. So when that happens - write your public officials! Send letters written on hemp and scented delicately with the essence of cannabis (grown hydroponically, please - nothing but the best and kindest) to your state Congressman. Maybe the extra subtle hints will do the trick. It takes a village, people! And if this village all rallied together, perhaps then we could solve the problems of the world with a simple toke off the proverbial peace pipe. Peace and love. :)
*Wow. I really used the word "marijuana" a lot on this blog. I hope it doesn't raise any weird governmental red flags that are now going to be tied to my name for the rest of my life. Because that would suck. Especially since I don't even smoke the stuff. Haha if you took a drink every time I said "marijuana" in this post, you'd be pret-ty intoxicated. I'd tell you to try it, but alcohol has long-term negative effects that are exponentially worse than those of marijuana. I don't want you to endanger yourself on my account.
Did you know . . .
- As of 2010, the United States boasted a population of 308,745,538? Out of that number, over 100 million (100,000,000) people have reported that they have smoked marijuana at least once before; 20 million (20,000,000) of those people smoke it regularly.
- Despite the fact that marijuana was considered legal tender in the days of America's Founding Fathers, marijuana has resulted in the most arrests in the "War on Drugs."
- At any given time, there are over 60,000 people jailed because of marijuana.
- There are currently 60-80 people serving life sentences marijuana-only offenses.
- One person is arrested every 37 seconds for marijuana-related crimes.
But all of that aside, the real fact that every taxpayer should know is that our Federal government spends about $13.7 BILLION on marijuana possession crimes. I kid you not. Almost fourteen billion dollars to enforce laws that prohibit a drug that is proven to be far less harmful than tobacco. Really?! So here's my question: when will the government wake up and smell the cannabis and realize that it would greatly behoove our wonderful country if everybody just would relax and go ahead and legalize marijuana? I mean, this is really ridiculous. Let's face facts, people are never going to stop smoking pot. It is impossible to completely eradicate it; therefore, it is impossible to truly prohibit it. So why not make a profit off of it? The government is doing itself (and us taxpayers) a huge disservice by refusing to stop the prohibition and demonization of marijuana. If they would just go ahead and legalize it (and, in turn, tax the mess out of it), do you know how much they could make in tax revenue?? Well, tobacco and alcohol sales generate over $17 billion in tax revenue, alone. So if that is any indication, assuming marijuana would be taxed at a rate similar to that of tobacco (40-50% excise and sales tax), a $40 billion marijuana market (the tobacco market is about $75 billion) would yield about $17-20 billion in tax revenue (See diagram below).
Now, wouldn't that $20 billion be helpful, considering our current national budget calls for deficit spending . . . not to mention the tiny little detail of our national debt, which at last count was $14,447,351,480,691. No, wait. It's $14,447,351,500,336 now - because it's going nowhere but up . . . by the second. Have you ever seen so many commas in a dollar figure? Do you even know how to say that number out loud?? It's depressing. Apparently, America is just a nation with overall bad credit. So wouldn't you think that $20 billion in marijuana tax revenue could maybe do a little bit of good? Maybe? Especially when you take into consideration that legalization would also take away the need for that pesky $13.7 billion being spent to wage war on a relatively harmless substance. Oh yeah, and it would help with overcrowding in jails/prisons, AND offer the enterprising, marijuana-selling citizens of America an opportunity to do business on the up-and-up, without need for concern about imprisonment. Sounds like a win-win to me.
Listen, I'm not trying to force my humble opinion on you. If you agree with the demonization of marijuana* and cannot at all see the positives associated with its legalization, that's your business. All I ask is that you really weigh out the pros and cons. Remember, just because it's legal, it doesn't mean you have to smoke it; it just means you can. Wouldn't it be refreshing to have the option? Isn't that the premise that our country was founded upon? Democracy and the freedom of choice? I'm just saying. I don't smoke pot, either . . . but I'm fairly reasonable and can see that there are some major benefits to its legalization. For your convenience, I've given you a head start by including the first 15 minutes of that crazy informative documentary. Do me a favor and check it out! Do some research. Read the facts. If you find yourself nodding your head and suddenly agreeing vehemently with the points I made above, don't be surprised. It really is the practical choice. So when that happens - write your public officials! Send letters written on hemp and scented delicately with the essence of cannabis (grown hydroponically, please - nothing but the best and kindest) to your state Congressman. Maybe the extra subtle hints will do the trick. It takes a village, people! And if this village all rallied together, perhaps then we could solve the problems of the world with a simple toke off the proverbial peace pipe. Peace and love. :)
*Wow. I really used the word "marijuana" a lot on this blog. I hope it doesn't raise any weird governmental red flags that are now going to be tied to my name for the rest of my life. Because that would suck. Especially since I don't even smoke the stuff. Haha if you took a drink every time I said "marijuana" in this post, you'd be pret-ty intoxicated. I'd tell you to try it, but alcohol has long-term negative effects that are exponentially worse than those of marijuana. I don't want you to endanger yourself on my account.
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
Big Girl Trapped in a Skinny Girl's Body
I was flipping mindlessly through Google News today, seeing if anything tickled my pickle for my next post, and I came across this article that piqued my interest. The content doesn't affect me directly, but I thought it was a really interesting read. Topics related to weight problems and body image issues always strike near and dear to my heart, because I have fought a long, arduous battle with my own weight for most of my life. I was never actually obese . . . but I was definitely overweight. My thighs audibly threatened to start a fire everytime I walked, I was uncomfortable in jeans, never sat with my legs crossed all of the way (because let's face it, I couldn't), and trembled with fear at the mere thought of being seen in a swimsuit. My tween and adolescent years were spent being the chubby friend (probably because I grew up in Florida, surrounded by beautiful, blonde, beach bunnies with tiny, size 2 frames crammed into the most adorable daisy dukes and half tops . . . don't judge; I'm a child of the 80's/90's . . . and it was FLORIDA, remember??), longing for the day when I, too, could shop in 5-7-9 (hahaha it just seemed so exclusive, with its size restrictions and all), and prance around in a child-sized bikini without any fear about my jelly rolls scaring anyone away.
So I committed my adolescence and early adulthood to yo-yo and fad dieting, praying for the day when I could shed my chubby duckling shell and transform into the slender swan that I was no doubt meant to be (especially since I have such freakishly skinny wrists and ankles; I never had the luxury of blaming my weight on "big bones"). To me, being heavyset was always such a burden, a plain-and-simple life ruiner. I knew that if I could just shed a few pounds, the problems of my world would be solved! Furthermore, I always swore that when I got skinny, I was going to breeze through life, wearing nothing but a smile and "nobody [was] gonna be able to tell me shit!"
I was wrong. On both counts. Perhaps not so surprisingly, I still wear clothes. Every day. Additionally, I still have problems. I thought that shedding some el bees would be like waving a magic confidence wand that would give me the self-assurance of a supermodel, and make all of my issues disappear. But apparently, it doesn't work like that. Apparently, thirteen years of living under my [annoyingly] skinny parents' roof, constantly being told I "didn't need seconds," or that I needed more exercise and shouldn't eat gravy on my mashed potatoes unfortunately had a lasting effect on me. That, coupled with years of staring in the mirror and being less than thrilled with the freaking fat chick that stole my face looking back at me expectantly (oh yeah, and let's not forget the truly memorable moments, like my eighth grade teacher telling me I had "birthing hips"), resulted in a major doozy of a body image issue (among others, I'm sure).
It's interesting, you hear facts and statistics all the time about obesity in America: 1 in 3 American adults is affected by obesity and every 2 minutes a person in America dies due to weight-related causes. What the statistics don't tell you, however, is just how much obesity and weight problems affect people's psyches, or how those issues get in your head and burrow a deep tunnel to hibernate in and stick around forever. Furthermore, the statistics do not explain how shallow and image-consumed our society is and how not fitting into the classic mold of attractiveness might obliterate a person's self-confidence and self-worth. Did you know that obesity is now considered a disease? Yup, a disease. Now think of all of the side effects and different traumas associated with any other disease that comes to mind. Because to be quite honest, people who suffer from obesity very likely have a lot of the same issues. Obesity isn't always a matter of eating less, or exercising more.
It's really ironic for me now, because people constantly make little comments about my size and how "tiny" I am, or how I need to gain a couple of pounds. If only they knew. I wish it were that simple. But unfortunately, no matter how small I seem to get, when I look in the cursed mirror, that same freaking fat chick is still there. I wish she would hurry up and get the memo that her kind is not wanted around these parts . . . but she never gets the hint. Like the picture below, she's always there, haunting me, reminding me of what I can be again. (Well, not exactly like the picture because I'm brown. But you get the point. Just use your imagination. I wasn't going to get in my skivvies and and take pictures just for the sake of a post. (a) because I'm a lady, for pete's sake, and (b) BECAUSE I HAVE BODY IMAGE ISSUES. Aren't you paying attention?? I guarantee that the me in your imagination looks way better than the real-life me, anyway.)
So, after 5 paragraphs of self-indulgent oversharing, I'll get to the point . . . hmmm . . . this is slightly embarrassing. It appears that really there was no point, besides the fact that I found the abovementioned article interesting. So I'll leave you with these little nuggets of wisdom: if you are one of the lucky few that do not have or have never had problems with your weight, you should thank God, Buddha, Allah, or even just your plain old lucky stars, because you are the minority. Obesity has become an epidemic in our country and it's not going away any time soon. So, do your part. Eat right, get active, stay fit, and live and enjoy life as long as possible (so you can keep reading my blog). We aren't leasing these bodies; we're in it for the long haul. What you see is what you get, so make sure you do right by yourself . . . and if that doesn't make you happy . . . maybe you should go see a therapist.* Don't be scared; everybody's doing it. Hell, even if you think you're happy, you should go see a therapist. Believe me, there's definitely something wrong with you. You just haven't discovered it yet. xo
*If the therapist trick still doesn't work, I would recommend a psychiatrist. Even if talking to one doesn't make you happy, at least they can write you prescriptions for drugs that very likely will. So, there's that.
So I committed my adolescence and early adulthood to yo-yo and fad dieting, praying for the day when I could shed my chubby duckling shell and transform into the slender swan that I was no doubt meant to be (especially since I have such freakishly skinny wrists and ankles; I never had the luxury of blaming my weight on "big bones"). To me, being heavyset was always such a burden, a plain-and-simple life ruiner. I knew that if I could just shed a few pounds, the problems of my world would be solved! Furthermore, I always swore that when I got skinny, I was going to breeze through life, wearing nothing but a smile and "nobody [was] gonna be able to tell me shit!"
I was wrong. On both counts. Perhaps not so surprisingly, I still wear clothes. Every day. Additionally, I still have problems. I thought that shedding some el bees would be like waving a magic confidence wand that would give me the self-assurance of a supermodel, and make all of my issues disappear. But apparently, it doesn't work like that. Apparently, thirteen years of living under my [annoyingly] skinny parents' roof, constantly being told I "didn't need seconds," or that I needed more exercise and shouldn't eat gravy on my mashed potatoes unfortunately had a lasting effect on me. That, coupled with years of staring in the mirror and being less than thrilled with the freaking fat chick that stole my face looking back at me expectantly (oh yeah, and let's not forget the truly memorable moments, like my eighth grade teacher telling me I had "birthing hips"), resulted in a major doozy of a body image issue (among others, I'm sure).
It's interesting, you hear facts and statistics all the time about obesity in America: 1 in 3 American adults is affected by obesity and every 2 minutes a person in America dies due to weight-related causes. What the statistics don't tell you, however, is just how much obesity and weight problems affect people's psyches, or how those issues get in your head and burrow a deep tunnel to hibernate in and stick around forever. Furthermore, the statistics do not explain how shallow and image-consumed our society is and how not fitting into the classic mold of attractiveness might obliterate a person's self-confidence and self-worth. Did you know that obesity is now considered a disease? Yup, a disease. Now think of all of the side effects and different traumas associated with any other disease that comes to mind. Because to be quite honest, people who suffer from obesity very likely have a lot of the same issues. Obesity isn't always a matter of eating less, or exercising more.
It's really ironic for me now, because people constantly make little comments about my size and how "tiny" I am, or how I need to gain a couple of pounds. If only they knew. I wish it were that simple. But unfortunately, no matter how small I seem to get, when I look in the cursed mirror, that same freaking fat chick is still there. I wish she would hurry up and get the memo that her kind is not wanted around these parts . . . but she never gets the hint. Like the picture below, she's always there, haunting me, reminding me of what I can be again. (Well, not exactly like the picture because I'm brown. But you get the point. Just use your imagination. I wasn't going to get in my skivvies and and take pictures just for the sake of a post. (a) because I'm a lady, for pete's sake, and (b) BECAUSE I HAVE BODY IMAGE ISSUES. Aren't you paying attention?? I guarantee that the me in your imagination looks way better than the real-life me, anyway.)
So, after 5 paragraphs of self-indulgent oversharing, I'll get to the point . . . hmmm . . . this is slightly embarrassing. It appears that really there was no point, besides the fact that I found the abovementioned article interesting. So I'll leave you with these little nuggets of wisdom: if you are one of the lucky few that do not have or have never had problems with your weight, you should thank God, Buddha, Allah, or even just your plain old lucky stars, because you are the minority. Obesity has become an epidemic in our country and it's not going away any time soon. So, do your part. Eat right, get active, stay fit, and live and enjoy life as long as possible (so you can keep reading my blog). We aren't leasing these bodies; we're in it for the long haul. What you see is what you get, so make sure you do right by yourself . . . and if that doesn't make you happy . . . maybe you should go see a therapist.* Don't be scared; everybody's doing it. Hell, even if you think you're happy, you should go see a therapist. Believe me, there's definitely something wrong with you. You just haven't discovered it yet. xo
*If the therapist trick still doesn't work, I would recommend a psychiatrist. Even if talking to one doesn't make you happy, at least they can write you prescriptions for drugs that very likely will. So, there's that.
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
Fly Down Memory Lane
I came across this article on http://www.time.com/, and I was just appalled. The long and short of it is that U.S. Airlines collected a whopping $3.4 BILLION in bag fees last year. Right. You heard me. Three. Point. Four. Billion. Dollars. That sounds like a scene from an Austin Powers movie, right? Unfortunately, the airline business appears to have become the nation's own personal Dr. Evil, with Delta leading the pack.
"Delta generated the most revenue from bag fees — $952 million — followed by the combined United and Continental at nearly $655 million. American collected $580 million and US Airways $513 million."
...$952 million? Really?! And perhaps I failed to mention that the total amount collected ($3.4B) marked a twenty-four percent increase in profits from 2009. A 24% increase? I thought we were in a recession! I think you'd be hard pressed to find another industry that can report an increase in profits - much less an increase as significant as 24%. It's just ridiculous. Meanwhile, the airlines are crying broke mouth and complaining about the rise in fuel costs. Hold on, let me put down my violin so I can get the message across. Everyone is struggling with rising fuel costs. It costs me $70+ to fill up my gas tank. We get it. But hiking up the prices on airline tickets wasn't enough? Travelers paying twice the price for fares didn't cushion the blow even just a little bit? I guess not.
This prompted me to really think about what other changes the airlines have made to compensate for the rising costs of the industry. It's time for a flight down memory lane...
Remember when . . .
...your frequent flyer miles actually counted for something? Yeah, you can absolutely still trade in your miles for a flight . . . but no guarantees that the flight will even have "frequent flyer seats" available. Unless you are trying to fly to Minnesota or Maine in the dead of winter (but not during inclement weather, because then you would inevitably be stuck at an airport for a week - if you think the airline is going to foot the bill for a delay due to an act of God . . . think again). Yeah, that's right...just like the time share tours that offer you a free vacation, there are definite scheduling limitations as to what dates you are allowed to travel. Big surprise, those dates are hardly ever convenient to any traveling that you may want to do, nor do they ever fall on a holiday.
...there was a complimentary pillow/blanket set waiting for you at your seat? I mean sure, of course you were scared to use them because they were probably carrying some form of the Gon'die (which implies that if you get it, you gon' die) . . . but at least the choice was yours. You could rest your weary head or choose to pass on the germy cesspools and possible exposure to the Ebola Virus or some random flesh-eating bacteria. Again - your choice. Because they were there waiting for you. Like the little complimentary bottles of shampoo and conditioner at a nice hotel . . . just there if you need 'em.
...airlines fed you during your flight? Yeah, the food was garbage and smelled like rotten baby vomit on a hot summer's day...but at least you got food. Granted, the smell of airplane food almost always made me reach for my complimentary puke pouch (Do they still offer those? Probably for a small fee, eh?), so this is probably the least of my concerns . . . but it's the principle. The hubs and I flew to Hawaii for our honeymoon, which is about a 12 hour trip from the Sunshine State. Don't be alarmed, Continental did feed us; HOWEVER, they fed us a microwaved "chicken sandwich" that made my elementary school cafeteria food look like gourmet, five-star cuisine. No joke, they served it to us still in the bag they microwaved it in. Oh yeah, and I'm pretty sure we got a bag of chips, too. It was super classy. Needless to say, I skipped the worthless calories and sodium and starved myself all the way to Hawaii. So, that was awesome.
...airplanes had a little bit of legroom? Ok, it's not like you could cut cartwheels in between the seats, but people could actually fit their entire person into the seat without having to either (a) hang their legs into the aisle to avoid knee-jacking the person in front of them, or (b) fold themselves into unnatural positions to try to politely keep from accidentally fondling the strangers surrounding them. My favorite aspect of the lack of legroom is during landing when my knees SLAM into the seat in front of me. I'm convinced that my kneecaps will one day shatter on impact and then at least I could skip the line for free in my wheelchair. The seats are so close together now, that I could very clearly spot the older, gay gentleman (I use the term loosely) a few rows up, creeping on young, adolescent boys on his iPad the last time I traveled. True story. He must have felt my shocked and dismayed eyes piercing his perverted soul, because he glanced around casually, spotted me spotting him, and quickly returned his portable perving device to its rightful home in his murse.
...you could actually make your way down the main aisle to your seat without inadvertantly setting your ass on some unsuspecting stranger's shoulder? I'm pretty small, and I can't seem to ever get to my seat anymore with having to apologize profusely to numerous people for booty bumping them in the face. How do bigger people do it? Especially the ones that already have to buy two seats. Speaking of which, has that rule always existed? Or just since the airlines switched out the old, quasi-normal-sized seats out for anorexic midget seats? I wonder about that.
...the overhead bins were large enough to fit all of the carry-on bags of the passengers on the plane? I can't decide if the bins themselves have actually gotten smaller (along with the aisles, the seats, the sodas, and the amount of legroom), or if people have just started cramming as much junk as possible into their carry-ons in an effort to avoid those ridiculously over-priced baggage fees. Good news is, I've discovered that they don't charge you when you have to gate check your bag because there isn't sufficient room in the overhead bins. Don't tell anyone; it'll be our little secret.
I could go on and on. Travel, overall, has become just a huge violation. Your wallet gets violated when you purchase your ticket. The airline comes back for some more wallet sodomy when you check your bag (unless you fly Southworst, of course). Then there's the double (if you're lucky, like me) violation/molestation at the security checkpoint (I'm confident that Wanda, the lovely TSA agent who blessed me with a very thorough pat down and I are now going steady), and the long string of blatant violations that follow. I miss the good ol' days when traveling was an experience, rather than a chore (a chore accompanied by an unsolicited manhandling of the semi-sexual nature). Maybe if the airlines make another several billion dollar profit off of us poor economy class peons this year, we'll begin to see some sort of improvement that would make flying a more enjoyable investment . . . but I wouldn't hold my breath if I were you.
"Delta generated the most revenue from bag fees — $952 million — followed by the combined United and Continental at nearly $655 million. American collected $580 million and US Airways $513 million."
...$952 million? Really?! And perhaps I failed to mention that the total amount collected ($3.4B) marked a twenty-four percent increase in profits from 2009. A 24% increase? I thought we were in a recession! I think you'd be hard pressed to find another industry that can report an increase in profits - much less an increase as significant as 24%. It's just ridiculous. Meanwhile, the airlines are crying broke mouth and complaining about the rise in fuel costs. Hold on, let me put down my violin so I can get the message across. Everyone is struggling with rising fuel costs. It costs me $70+ to fill up my gas tank. We get it. But hiking up the prices on airline tickets wasn't enough? Travelers paying twice the price for fares didn't cushion the blow even just a little bit? I guess not.
This prompted me to really think about what other changes the airlines have made to compensate for the rising costs of the industry. It's time for a flight down memory lane...
Remember when . . .
...your frequent flyer miles actually counted for something? Yeah, you can absolutely still trade in your miles for a flight . . . but no guarantees that the flight will even have "frequent flyer seats" available. Unless you are trying to fly to Minnesota or Maine in the dead of winter (but not during inclement weather, because then you would inevitably be stuck at an airport for a week - if you think the airline is going to foot the bill for a delay due to an act of God . . . think again). Yeah, that's right...just like the time share tours that offer you a free vacation, there are definite scheduling limitations as to what dates you are allowed to travel. Big surprise, those dates are hardly ever convenient to any traveling that you may want to do, nor do they ever fall on a holiday.
...there was a complimentary pillow/blanket set waiting for you at your seat? I mean sure, of course you were scared to use them because they were probably carrying some form of the Gon'die (which implies that if you get it, you gon' die) . . . but at least the choice was yours. You could rest your weary head or choose to pass on the germy cesspools and possible exposure to the Ebola Virus or some random flesh-eating bacteria. Again - your choice. Because they were there waiting for you. Like the little complimentary bottles of shampoo and conditioner at a nice hotel . . . just there if you need 'em.
...airlines fed you during your flight? Yeah, the food was garbage and smelled like rotten baby vomit on a hot summer's day...but at least you got food. Granted, the smell of airplane food almost always made me reach for my complimentary puke pouch (Do they still offer those? Probably for a small fee, eh?), so this is probably the least of my concerns . . . but it's the principle. The hubs and I flew to Hawaii for our honeymoon, which is about a 12 hour trip from the Sunshine State. Don't be alarmed, Continental did feed us; HOWEVER, they fed us a microwaved "chicken sandwich" that made my elementary school cafeteria food look like gourmet, five-star cuisine. No joke, they served it to us still in the bag they microwaved it in. Oh yeah, and I'm pretty sure we got a bag of chips, too. It was super classy. Needless to say, I skipped the worthless calories and sodium and starved myself all the way to Hawaii. So, that was awesome.
...airplanes had a little bit of legroom? Ok, it's not like you could cut cartwheels in between the seats, but people could actually fit their entire person into the seat without having to either (a) hang their legs into the aisle to avoid knee-jacking the person in front of them, or (b) fold themselves into unnatural positions to try to politely keep from accidentally fondling the strangers surrounding them. My favorite aspect of the lack of legroom is during landing when my knees SLAM into the seat in front of me. I'm convinced that my kneecaps will one day shatter on impact and then at least I could skip the line for free in my wheelchair. The seats are so close together now, that I could very clearly spot the older, gay gentleman (I use the term loosely) a few rows up, creeping on young, adolescent boys on his iPad the last time I traveled. True story. He must have felt my shocked and dismayed eyes piercing his perverted soul, because he glanced around casually, spotted me spotting him, and quickly returned his portable perving device to its rightful home in his murse.
...you could actually make your way down the main aisle to your seat without inadvertantly setting your ass on some unsuspecting stranger's shoulder? I'm pretty small, and I can't seem to ever get to my seat anymore with having to apologize profusely to numerous people for booty bumping them in the face. How do bigger people do it? Especially the ones that already have to buy two seats. Speaking of which, has that rule always existed? Or just since the airlines switched out the old, quasi-normal-sized seats out for anorexic midget seats? I wonder about that.
...the overhead bins were large enough to fit all of the carry-on bags of the passengers on the plane? I can't decide if the bins themselves have actually gotten smaller (along with the aisles, the seats, the sodas, and the amount of legroom), or if people have just started cramming as much junk as possible into their carry-ons in an effort to avoid those ridiculously over-priced baggage fees. Good news is, I've discovered that they don't charge you when you have to gate check your bag because there isn't sufficient room in the overhead bins. Don't tell anyone; it'll be our little secret.
I could go on and on. Travel, overall, has become just a huge violation. Your wallet gets violated when you purchase your ticket. The airline comes back for some more wallet sodomy when you check your bag (unless you fly Southworst, of course). Then there's the double (if you're lucky, like me) violation/molestation at the security checkpoint (I'm confident that Wanda, the lovely TSA agent who blessed me with a very thorough pat down and I are now going steady), and the long string of blatant violations that follow. I miss the good ol' days when traveling was an experience, rather than a chore (a chore accompanied by an unsolicited manhandling of the semi-sexual nature). Maybe if the airlines make another several billion dollar profit off of us poor economy class peons this year, we'll begin to see some sort of improvement that would make flying a more enjoyable investment . . . but I wouldn't hold my breath if I were you.
Friday, May 20, 2011
The Rapture
Happy Friday! Well, maybe not so happy. "Why is that," you ask? Well, besides the fact that I'm nursing a well-earned-weeklong-birthday-celebration hangover this morning, today is May 20th. Do you know what that means? That means tomorrow is May 21st . . . aka the Rapture . . . aka Doomsday (if you subscribe to that Harold Camping mumbo jumbo, that is). So does that make today Doomsday Eve?
I have mixed feelings about this. Well, not really mixed feelings. I'm really just less than enraptured with the Rapture. Let's discuss.
Good luck, kiddos. Grab your hard hats and keep an eye out for zombies. I'll catch you on the flip side.
R.E.M. - It's The End Of The World As We Know It (And I...
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I have mixed feelings about this. Well, not really mixed feelings. I'm really just less than enraptured with the Rapture. Let's discuss.
- Who is this Camping guy, anyway? What makes him a prophet? What else has he prophesized? I'm not convinced I want to leave the prophecy of the end of the world as we know it in the hands of someone I've never heard of before. Wait. What's that? He's a Christian radio host? Oh, ok. That explains it. Not so much the prophet part, but definitely why I didn't know who the hell he was. I'm a little confused, though. When I Google his name, I keep seeing the word "false" in front of prophet. Hmmmm...must be a typo.
- Has anyone else picked up on the fact that May 21, 2011 is actually Camping's revised prophecy for Doomsday? Since a prophecy doesn't sound much like something that requires revision, this prompted me to do a little research (since again, I know absolutely nothing about this guy). I know he says that he knows "without any shadow of a doubt" that it will happen . . . but I'm not convinced. Apparently, he's been wrong before. Several times. I feel like I need a little bit more confirmation before I go bananas with my AmEx. (Don't judge; a girl needs to look pretty for an apocalypse, right? That sounds like some kickass survival instincts to me. They never let the pretty girls die in the movies.)
- According to Camping, massive earthquakes and other natural disasters will begin on May 21, 2011. Being that I have never lived in a state that actually experiences earthquakes, I have what may be considered an irrational fear of them. There's something about the concept of the earth shaking beneath my feet that I can't quite wrap my mind around. Furthermore, these natural disasters are predicted (by the ever-reliable Camping) to last until October??? I don't understand. Am I expected to stand in a doorjamb until October? That's just silly. What if I have to potty? This is giving me anxiety.
- Ok, so how exactly is this whole Rapture situation going to work? Apparently, approximately 200 million "righteous" will "Rapture into heaven" (I didn't realize it was also a verb), and the sinners will be left behind? Although I like my chances a tad bit better with these numbers than with the 144,000 that the Jehovah's Witnesses believe will make it to heaven . . . I'm still a little worried. How do I know if I'm righteous or a sinner? Is there some sort of Rapture manual with a checklist to help identify whether I'd be one of the ones left behind? If so, I imagine it to be something like a Cosmo quiz - "If you answered 'yes' to more than 4 of the questions . . . sorry for your luck. Enjoy the earthquakes." I don't know what to do. I have to have some sort of guidance to help me quickly determine if I need to go buy enough Doomsday supplies to last me until October, or if I just need to buy something pretty for my rendezvous with St. Peter. (Side note: I've always wondered about the wardrobe situation in Heaven. Will I have an endless closet, filled with all of the latest fashions I can't live without, with everything fitting me perfectly and looking amazing...for all of eternity? Or will I be stuck wearing whatever I died in or was buried in? Wearing the same outfit for...well...ever, sounds more like hell to me. I'm just saying.)
Good luck, kiddos. Grab your hard hats and keep an eye out for zombies. I'll catch you on the flip side.
R.E.M. - It's The End Of The World As We Know It (And I...
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Wednesday, April 27, 2011
Flowers in the Attic
Happy Administrative Professionals' Day to all the Admins out there who have to put up with their boss' bullshit all day, every day. Here's to you - 'cause they probably couldn't function without you. Interestingly, Administrative Professionals' Day is what prompted today's post. At work today, several of the Admins received flowers from their departments as a gesture of appreciation. Nice, right? Well, the sight of those flowers triggered a random [unrelated] memory that I had to share as an example of what not to do when sending flowers to a woman.
"What we gon' do right now is go back...way back...back into time."
Flashback to Valentine's Day, circa...2004? I was at work, minding my own business, when our office receptionist called to inform me that I'd received a package. I eagerly went up front to see what kind of Valentine's goodies awaited me and was promptly rewarded for my efforts when the receptionist handed me my box. All of you ladies know the ProFlowers® box because it's instantly recognizable, right? That long, green box that has the potential to completely brighten your day?
Right. That box. So I happily collected my special delivery and hoofed it back to my desk to see what breathtaking blossoms lay in wait for me within. I ripped the box open in anticipation, revealing a beautiful arrangement of tulips and irises, just waiting to be put on display at my desk.
Side note: Pretty much the only reason a woman wants to receive flowers (besides the fact that they make us feel special and all that other sentimental stuff) at work on occasions like Valentine's Day, birthdays and anniversaries is to put them on conspicuous display so the other women in the office will ask about the source of said flowers, ooh and aaah over the sweetness of such a gift and then be green with envy for the rest of the day whilst comparing their thoughtless significant other with the amazingly romantic source of your flowers. Take note, fellas - your woman will love you so much more for the gesture...and so will the women in her office. Not a bad deal. Okay, back to the story (almost done, I swear).
So I opened the box, revealed the pretty flowers, blah, blah, blah. Gushing, I of course reached for the card to read whatever romantic musings were typed with dedication and care (Chaucer or Tennyson, no doubt). After breezing through the card, I gathered up the box to take to the kitchen and begin the tedious process of trimming stems and arranging the flowers in their accompanying vase . . . at which time I noticed that, to my surprise . . . there was no vase.
Who?
Does?
That?!
For real. Who goes through the motions (because that's obviously what it was in retrospect, a matter of some jerk going through the obligatory motions of sending some crappy flowers on Valentine's Day) of sending flowers...but is too effing cheap to add the vase for $6.99?? Especially when said flowers are ordered on the internet and are delivered in a cardboard box. It's not like you can enjoy flowers from a box. What would I do? Prop the box open on my desk? A good friend equated that box to a flower coffin. No joke. If I'd tried to display my flowers from inside the box, it would be a little bit like a memorial service for my poor flowers. Which would have been fitting, all things considered. Again, hindsight is a bitch. Needless to say, I was disgusted and tossed those half-wilted flowers back to the shitty box they came in and tried to forget about them. (Funny how the description changes, right?)
Unfortunately, it's really hard to forget about flowers when the abovementied nosy ladies in the office ask about the box every time they pass by your desk, exclaiming about the thoughtful delivery, inquiring as to why I they weren't on display for everyone else to enjoy right along with me. Yeah. Try explaining a box full of flowers and no vase to put them in to a bunch of snarky women who were already jealous to begin with. I'm pretty sure that made their day. Kinda takes away from the appeal of having those stupid flowers delivered to me on V-Day, you know? I have to laugh...now.
So, there it is. What shouldn't you do when sending flowers? Be a cheapskate. The end.
"What we gon' do right now is go back...way back...back into time."
Flashback to Valentine's Day, circa...2004? I was at work, minding my own business, when our office receptionist called to inform me that I'd received a package. I eagerly went up front to see what kind of Valentine's goodies awaited me and was promptly rewarded for my efforts when the receptionist handed me my box. All of you ladies know the ProFlowers® box because it's instantly recognizable, right? That long, green box that has the potential to completely brighten your day?
Side note: Pretty much the only reason a woman wants to receive flowers (besides the fact that they make us feel special and all that other sentimental stuff) at work on occasions like Valentine's Day, birthdays and anniversaries is to put them on conspicuous display so the other women in the office will ask about the source of said flowers, ooh and aaah over the sweetness of such a gift and then be green with envy for the rest of the day whilst comparing their thoughtless significant other with the amazingly romantic source of your flowers. Take note, fellas - your woman will love you so much more for the gesture...and so will the women in her office. Not a bad deal. Okay, back to the story (almost done, I swear).
So I opened the box, revealed the pretty flowers, blah, blah, blah. Gushing, I of course reached for the card to read whatever romantic musings were typed with dedication and care (Chaucer or Tennyson, no doubt). After breezing through the card, I gathered up the box to take to the kitchen and begin the tedious process of trimming stems and arranging the flowers in their accompanying vase . . . at which time I noticed that, to my surprise . . . there was no vase.
Who?
Does?
That?!
For real. Who goes through the motions (because that's obviously what it was in retrospect, a matter of some jerk going through the obligatory motions of sending some crappy flowers on Valentine's Day) of sending flowers...but is too effing cheap to add the vase for $6.99?? Especially when said flowers are ordered on the internet and are delivered in a cardboard box. It's not like you can enjoy flowers from a box. What would I do? Prop the box open on my desk? A good friend equated that box to a flower coffin. No joke. If I'd tried to display my flowers from inside the box, it would be a little bit like a memorial service for my poor flowers. Which would have been fitting, all things considered. Again, hindsight is a bitch. Needless to say, I was disgusted and tossed those half-wilted flowers back to the shitty box they came in and tried to forget about them. (Funny how the description changes, right?)
Unfortunately, it's really hard to forget about flowers when the abovementied nosy ladies in the office ask about the box every time they pass by your desk, exclaiming about the thoughtful delivery, inquiring as to why I they weren't on display for everyone else to enjoy right along with me. Yeah. Try explaining a box full of flowers and no vase to put them in to a bunch of snarky women who were already jealous to begin with. I'm pretty sure that made their day. Kinda takes away from the appeal of having those stupid flowers delivered to me on V-Day, you know? I have to laugh...now.
So, there it is. What shouldn't you do when sending flowers? Be a cheapskate. The end.
Monday, April 25, 2011
Gitmo Got Mo’ Civilians than Terrorists
Well, I’m about halfway into my morning, and I came across an interesting article about Guantanamo Bay. Apparently, 1/5 of the inmates being held at Gitmo were arbitrarily imprisoned and cannot be directly linked to terrorism, or any enemy combatants, for that matter (thanks, wikileaks).
Really, America? (Hold onto your hats, kids. This is about to get really wordy.)
I can’t say that I’m surprised. We all had to know that there was some fishy business going on down there in Cuba, right? Why else would the prison be located in a place that Americans are not permitted to visit? Due to bans on trade and poor relations with Fidel Commie Badass Castro, you would think that Cuba would be the last place to house a US detention facility…but I digress. I have to say – I’m not surprised in the least. America has a history [albeit a quiet, little-known one] ofconcentration internment camps for when the going gets tough.
Uh-oh. Did I just lose some of you? It’s true; I swear. I couldn’t make this stuff up if I tried. Don’t worry; this isn’t going to turn into some conspiracy theory blog. I just think it’s important to educate our society about the real history of America, with all of its blemishes, witch hunts and dirty little secrets. Otherwise, how will our future children learn from our mistakes (and our parents mistakes, and their parents mistakes, and so on and so forth)? Now, where was I? Oh, yes.Concentration Internment camps. Yeah. We had ‘em. Here in the good ol’ U.S. of A. Not something you hear about too often, but true, nonetheless.
During WWII, Americanconcentration internment camps were pretty much the new black. You know how the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor in 1941? Well, much like the Twin Towers nightmare in 2001, that bombing induced a state of mass hysteria, which ultimately led to a rabid focus on Japanese-Americans. Yeah. You read right. Japanese-AMERICANS. People of Japanese descent living in America. American citizens, even. So FDR signed Executive Order 9066 and about 120,000 people of Japanese descent were forced from their homes and normal lives and shipped off to concentration internment camps. More than 2/3 of the prisoners internees were American citizens; 1/2 of them were children. Riddle me this: exactly how would children act as government spies? I'm just curious. Special training, like with the Olympics? If that’s the case, the Chinese could potentially have a whole gang of diminutive spies. After watching the opening games in Beijing, I’m pretty sure they might be the only ones who could orchestrate an army of in-tempo, drum-beating, awe-inspiring, awesome, little brainiac children with amazing attention spans and the courage of ten full-grown lions. None of those that were imprisoned detained were convicted of treason. In fact, during the war, a grand total of TEN people were convicted of spying for Japan…they were all Caucasian.
The fun doesn't stop there: there were also Germanconcentration internment camps in the US, which [not so] surprisingly, were filled not only with Nazis and Nazi supporters, but with regular German citizens (who obviously had direct liaisons with Hitler). What’s really interesting is that the Nazi prisoners were often allowed to act as enforcers in these camps, because the Americans appreciated the discipline and order that they instilled amongst the prisoners. Hmmm…I can’t really wrap my mind around that. If they appreciated the “discipline and order” of the Nazis, perhaps they were fighting on the wrong side. This is confusing to me.
…and last, but certainly not least, let’s not forget REX 84, originally established as an answer to the imminent threat of an immigrant invasion from Mexico. Ha! Imminent threat? Immigrant invasion? From Mexico? I’m not holding my breath on this one. I have a feeling I’ll be riding a hoverboard before our immediate neighbor to the south rallies the troops and invades our country. But that’s just me. Proactive, yes? Silly, double [hell] yes. Interestingly, an Executive Order from the Bush/Cheney Administration repurposed these existing facilities to ones that would accommodate any need we might have to detain dissidents and others that might be harmful to the US. Oh yeah, and as a place for Americans to go in a state of emergency.
Ummm…I’ve seen the movies. Martial Law? Nah, I’m gonna go ahead and pass on the government trucks transporting loads of Americans to camps lined with barbed wire “for their protection.” Although, I don’t know about you – but the idea of these camps is kind of a huge relief for me. I often spend my days wondering where dissidents will be sent to their doom. Thanks, guys. That's one less thing to lie awake at night feeling anxious about. I feel a lot safer knowing that I don’t have to worry about it anymore; we have an array of concentration camps waiting to be filled up right here.*** Hurry up and follow through with that Executive Order, Obama! Don’t fret; we’ve got lots of space.
For you naysayers:
Read more about Japanese Internment Camps here.
Read more about REX 84 here.
__________________________________________________________________________________
Really, America? (Hold onto your hats, kids. This is about to get really wordy.)
I can’t say that I’m surprised. We all had to know that there was some fishy business going on down there in Cuba, right? Why else would the prison be located in a place that Americans are not permitted to visit? Due to bans on trade and poor relations with Fidel Commie Badass Castro, you would think that Cuba would be the last place to house a US detention facility…but I digress. I have to say – I’m not surprised in the least. America has a history [albeit a quiet, little-known one] of
Uh-oh. Did I just lose some of you? It’s true; I swear. I couldn’t make this stuff up if I tried. Don’t worry; this isn’t going to turn into some conspiracy theory blog. I just think it’s important to educate our society about the real history of America, with all of its blemishes, witch hunts and dirty little secrets. Otherwise, how will our future children learn from our mistakes (and our parents mistakes, and their parents mistakes, and so on and so forth)? Now, where was I? Oh, yes.
During WWII, American
The fun doesn't stop there: there were also German
…and last, but certainly not least, let’s not forget REX 84, originally established as an answer to the imminent threat of an immigrant invasion from Mexico. Ha! Imminent threat? Immigrant invasion? From Mexico? I’m not holding my breath on this one. I have a feeling I’ll be riding a hoverboard before our immediate neighbor to the south rallies the troops and invades our country. But that’s just me. Proactive, yes? Silly, double [hell] yes. Interestingly, an Executive Order from the Bush/Cheney Administration repurposed these existing facilities to ones that would accommodate any need we might have to detain dissidents and others that might be harmful to the US. Oh yeah, and as a place for Americans to go in a state of emergency.
Ummm…I’ve seen the movies. Martial Law? Nah, I’m gonna go ahead and pass on the government trucks transporting loads of Americans to camps lined with barbed wire “for their protection.” Although, I don’t know about you – but the idea of these camps is kind of a huge relief for me. I often spend my days wondering where dissidents will be sent to their doom. Thanks, guys. That's one less thing to lie awake at night feeling anxious about. I feel a lot safer knowing that I don’t have to worry about it anymore; we have an array of concentration camps waiting to be filled up right here.*** Hurry up and follow through with that Executive Order, Obama! Don’t fret; we’ve got lots of space.
For you naysayers:
Read more about Japanese Internment Camps here.
Read more about REX 84 here.
__________________________________________________________________________________
*In case you missed it, that was sarcasm.
**Fingers crossed that Kim Jong-Il quits dicking around (or just disappears altogether) so I don’t have to worry about being seized in the night. Hmmm…maybe I’d catch a break since I’m only half? Food for thought…
Thursday, April 21, 2011
Crying for Columbine
Um...has everyone else already heard about the latest and greatest "possible act of domestic terrorism" to come out of Columbine? Hurry up and read about it here so we can discuss! I'll give you some time to catch up on the reading...
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Here's some crib notes [taken from the abovementioned article] for my non-reader readers (which, for the record, if you really don't like to read, I honestly don't even know why you read my blog):
"Firefighters discovered the bomb and two propane tanks Wednesday near the food court after a small fire broke out. No one was hurt. Wednesday was the 12th anniversary of the notorious slayings in which two students killed 13 people before turning their guns on themselves. Unexploded pipe bombs strapped to propane tanks were also found at the school in the aftermath of the shooting. 'The fact that has happened on April 20, 12 years later, near the school with similar devices is very disturbing,' said Jefferson County Sheriff spokeswoman..."
...after a "small fire broke out"? Holy Bejeezus! How lucky that the "small" fire didn't turn into a massive, explosive, nightmare. Just how close was the fire to the propane tanks? Aren't pipe bombs super volatile? This story seriously gives me angina.
Okay. I'm curious: WTF is going on over there in Colorado? I thought everyone there was like, granola-eating, Kashi-loving, birkenstock-wearing, mountain-climbing, prius-driving, health-nut yuppies! No? All jokes aside, when you look at the demographics for Columbine, it appears to pretty much be the perfect neighborhood. It's like Pleasantville, or something. (A little too perfect, if you ask me. It's kinda creepy. Which, in this context, I suppose makes perfect sense. Ugh. Digressing again. See how quickly that happens? Stupid ADD.) The average income is over $77K, for Pete's sake!* Over 75% of their population works a white collar job, over half the population is married, and the average household net worth is over $700K. At first glance...Columbine might be heaven. Or at least just a little, golden, yuppie-filled piece of it. Why does shit like this keep happening to such a [seemingly] solid community?
...and did you see the picture of the person of interest???
What the shit, gramps?! I thought grandpas were supposed to wear cardigans and smoke pipes and play golf and drink scotch and tell you stories about when they were young and had to walk uphill to and from school in blizzards and stuff like that! I'm pretty sure casually dropping off pipe bombs and blowing up shopping malls are not on the list of common characteristics of grandfathers. What could have possibly possessed this evil old'un to do something like this? Are the two incidents related? Was this some sort of revenge mission because gramps is still mourning the loss of someone from the massacre twelve years ago? If so, why wait twelve years? Is there some sort of significance there? Did he buy his bombing supplies at Target? That looks an awful lot like a Target bag. You'd think people who would do something like this would shop at Wal-Mart. Right? I mean, let's face it. we've all seen http://www.peopleofwalmart.com/. Nobody shops at Wally World except for weirdos, poor people and creepy transvestites and/or crossdressers [some of them with mullets] who do all of their shopping late at night in really short cutoff shorts or some WT equivalent of. And speaking of his shopping bag, doesn't it look a little small for pipe bombs and propane tanks and such? I'm not quite sure what other supplies are needed for bombing, but it seems like it would require more than a regular-sized shopping bag would hold. Right?
Well, I guess that's all I have to say about that. I sure hope they find this tool box soon. Because he's old. And doesn't deserve to draw social security after pulling such a stunt. And needs to be interrogated so shit like this doesn't keep happening. Besides, I would really appreciate an answer to at least a few of my questions. Hey, inquiring minds want to know...until they DO catch the sonofabitch, I'm not Bowling for Columbine...I'm crying for them.
*Does anybody know who in the hell Pete is, anyway? Why are people always talking about his sake? I pored over my memory files (where thoughts go to die, remember?), and I can't honestly think of anyone imortant in our country's history named Pete, or ever Peter, for that matter. Except for Pete Sampras. Oh yeah, and Peter Gabriel (C'mon, who doesn't like Genesis?!). So I would like to know how Pete made it to the phrase and why everyone is concerned with his sake. Accepting explanations now. Thanks.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Here's some crib notes [taken from the abovementioned article] for my non-reader readers (which, for the record, if you really don't like to read, I honestly don't even know why you read my blog):
"Firefighters discovered the bomb and two propane tanks Wednesday near the food court after a small fire broke out. No one was hurt. Wednesday was the 12th anniversary of the notorious slayings in which two students killed 13 people before turning their guns on themselves. Unexploded pipe bombs strapped to propane tanks were also found at the school in the aftermath of the shooting. 'The fact that has happened on April 20, 12 years later, near the school with similar devices is very disturbing,' said Jefferson County Sheriff spokeswoman..."
...after a "small fire broke out"? Holy Bejeezus! How lucky that the "small" fire didn't turn into a massive, explosive, nightmare. Just how close was the fire to the propane tanks? Aren't pipe bombs super volatile? This story seriously gives me angina.
Okay. I'm curious: WTF is going on over there in Colorado? I thought everyone there was like, granola-eating, Kashi-loving, birkenstock-wearing, mountain-climbing, prius-driving, health-nut yuppies! No? All jokes aside, when you look at the demographics for Columbine, it appears to pretty much be the perfect neighborhood. It's like Pleasantville, or something. (A little too perfect, if you ask me. It's kinda creepy. Which, in this context, I suppose makes perfect sense. Ugh. Digressing again. See how quickly that happens? Stupid ADD.) The average income is over $77K, for Pete's sake!* Over 75% of their population works a white collar job, over half the population is married, and the average household net worth is over $700K. At first glance...Columbine might be heaven. Or at least just a little, golden, yuppie-filled piece of it. Why does shit like this keep happening to such a [seemingly] solid community?
...and did you see the picture of the person of interest???
Photo courtesy of the FBI
What the shit, gramps?! I thought grandpas were supposed to wear cardigans and smoke pipes and play golf and drink scotch and tell you stories about when they were young and had to walk uphill to and from school in blizzards and stuff like that! I'm pretty sure casually dropping off pipe bombs and blowing up shopping malls are not on the list of common characteristics of grandfathers. What could have possibly possessed this evil old'un to do something like this? Are the two incidents related? Was this some sort of revenge mission because gramps is still mourning the loss of someone from the massacre twelve years ago? If so, why wait twelve years? Is there some sort of significance there? Did he buy his bombing supplies at Target? That looks an awful lot like a Target bag. You'd think people who would do something like this would shop at Wal-Mart. Right? I mean, let's face it. we've all seen http://www.peopleofwalmart.com/. Nobody shops at Wally World except for weirdos, poor people and creepy transvestites and/or crossdressers [some of them with mullets] who do all of their shopping late at night in really short cutoff shorts or some WT equivalent of. And speaking of his shopping bag, doesn't it look a little small for pipe bombs and propane tanks and such? I'm not quite sure what other supplies are needed for bombing, but it seems like it would require more than a regular-sized shopping bag would hold. Right?
Well, I guess that's all I have to say about that. I sure hope they find this tool box soon. Because he's old. And doesn't deserve to draw social security after pulling such a stunt. And needs to be interrogated so shit like this doesn't keep happening. Besides, I would really appreciate an answer to at least a few of my questions. Hey, inquiring minds want to know...until they DO catch the sonofabitch, I'm not Bowling for Columbine...I'm crying for them.
*Does anybody know who in the hell Pete is, anyway? Why are people always talking about his sake? I pored over my memory files (where thoughts go to die, remember?), and I can't honestly think of anyone imortant in our country's history named Pete, or ever Peter, for that matter. Except for Pete Sampras. Oh yeah, and Peter Gabriel (C'mon, who doesn't like Genesis?!). So I would like to know how Pete made it to the phrase and why everyone is concerned with his sake. Accepting explanations now. Thanks.
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
Prejudice. Wrote a Blog About It. Like to Hear It? Here It Goes...
Just when you start to think that the US is the only "progressive" country whose government is taking steps backward...you come across laws like the recently passed burqa ban in France. Wow, France. Really?! This is a blatant dig at the Muslim community, and I personally am offended...even though I'm not French...or a Muslim. But I am a woman...and I'm offended.
Now the other part of the law about not being able to force a woman to cover her face is fine by me. I think that should be the case across the board and it should be enforced, in fact. Women should only wear veils/burqas/hijabs of their own volition. But to ban veils completely? What in the name of Allah happened to the freedom of religion? Last time I checked, it was 2011.
‘Interior Minister Claude Gueant insisted the ban would be enforced, in the name of "secularism and equality between men and women... two principles upon which we cannot compromise."’
Secularism and equality, huh? I beg to differ. Perhaps he doesn’t know that the spirit of secularism implies a separation between church and state. Additionally, if the government were truly pushing for equality, wouldn't they allow these women to make the “to veil or not to veil” choice on their own? I am not so much a proponent of women's lib, per se (not that I’m against it, obviously). What I am a proponent of is equality and the right to choose. I think that's what's really overlooked too frequently when discussing the "liberation" of women. I'm all for women going out and becoming CEO's of Fortune 500 companies...if that's what they choose to do. I'm also all for women staying home to be mothers or housewives...if that's what they choose to do. Hell, I'm all for women in burqas and bikins...if that's what they choose to do.
There is a very fine line between giving people the freedom to do something and creating laws that make people do something. How can anyone support a law that is supposedly meant to enforce equality, but takes away women’s freedom of choice (and in this case, also their freedom of religion)? This is a sad state of affairs, people.
This law has obvious prejudicial undertones. It sounds like Sarkozy is willing to be a real cooze in order to secure the conservative vote. All in the name of the presidency, right? Vive La France? Psht! Vive La Résistance! If the French government wants to prove its progressiveness and truly free women from these "signs of enslavement" (brilliant quote from Sarkoozy - pun intended), they should lift this ban. Soon. Before everyone else in the world starts to think that ignorant shit like this is okay (like band wagoner Italy).
Here is the source for the Gueant quote.
Here is the source for the lovely image seen above.*
*Disclaimer: The image shown in today's post is not intended to mock or disrespect any aspect of the Muslim culture or religion. This is simply a tongue in cheek example of my opinion that women should have the right to choose; I mean no offense.
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