The Monkey Ate My Five Dollars

'Frances Farmer'

2008-06-26T06:16:00.000-07:00

When I was flipping around channels the other day, I stopped on the Biography Channel, as the bio on Frances Farmer was the bio-de-jour.

I had seen the film, Frances, with Jessica Lange, and I had read info on the real Frances Farmer, as well as reading Kenneth Anger's "Hollywood Babylon."

However, as I watched the bio, the tragedy of her life really struck me. Mental illness is so sneaky and it can rob you of so much, as well it can delude you into thinking that you are the normal one and everyone around you is an attacker.

From what I saw, and then subsequently read about Ms. Farmer, it seemed that no matter how much success or adulation she received for her acting, she would single-handedly ruin things when the going got too good.

However, she was an iconoclast, in my opinion. I had no idea that she won a trip to the Soviet Union, while she was a college student in the 1930s. Later, it would be used against her to prove she was a "Communist."

She was a rebel before rebelling was cool in Hollywood. She refused to be pigeon-holed in B-movie exploits that only capitalized on her looks. She worked with some of the best playwrights and writers of the day. Odets, Hemingway, but she was often combative and paranoid.

As well, she became a major alcoholic.

This began her real descent into madness and exploitation because of it.

According to Wikipedia:

On October 19, 1942, she was stopped by the police in Santa Monica for driving with her headlights on bright in the wartime blackout zone that affected most of the West Coast. Some reports say she was unable to produce a driver's license and was verbally abusive. The police suspected her of being drunk and she was jailed overnight. Farmer was fined $500 and given a 180-day suspended sentence. She immediately paid $250 and was put on probation.

By January 1943, she failed to pay the rest of the fine and a bench warrant was issued for her arrest. At almost the same time, a studio hairdresser filed an assault charge alleging that Farmer had dislocated her jaw on the set. The police traced Farmer to the Knickerbocker Hotel in Hollywood. Getting no answer, they entered her room with a pass key. They reportedly found her in bed (some stories include an episode involving the bathroom) and made her dress quickly. By all accounts, she did not surrender peacefully.

At her hearing the next morning, she behaved erratically. She claimed the police had violated her civil rights, demanded an attorney, and threw an inkwell at the judge. He immediately sentenced her to 180 days in jail. She knocked down a policeman and bruised another, along with a matron. She ran to a phone booth where she tried to call her attorney, but was subdued by the police. They physically carried her away as she shouted, “Have you ever had a broken heart?”

Newspaper reports gave sensationalized accounts of her arrest. Through the efforts of her sister-in-law, a deputy sheriff in Los Angeles County, Farmer was transferred to the psychiatric ward of L.A. General Hospital.^[1] There she was diagnosed with "manic depressive psychosis".

I think the worst, however, was being institutionalized against your will. Basically, it happened to Frances twice, once at the hands of her own mother. Can you imagine being thrown in a mental hospital by your own mother, or parents?

As seen in the film, she received ECT treatments, but what is disputed is whether she actually had a lobotomy, as the film suggests.

Years of trying to fight her mother's legal guardianship over her, her mother re-institutionalizing her, took its toll on the woman. However, she never gave up.

At the same time, toward the end of her life, she told others, "I blame nobody but me for my downfall."

I don't know if I believe that or not, but Frances Farmer's life is a good case study for what untreated alcoholism and mental illness can actually do to the person and their family, friends. As well, it is a good cautionary tale about the dysfunctional family unit, period.

The relationship with her mother, as portrayed in the film, is part factual and part dramatic license, but I do think it shows how our sick parents can influence our own sickness.

Erratic behavior, impulsive decision-making, violent outbursts can stop the most creative, intelligent minds. Add to that, involuntary hospitalization in a mental hospital will either make you or break you.

The last part of the program focused on the "This is Your Life" on Frances Farmer. It was bittersweet.

If you get a chance to catch her bio, it's well worth the look. May she truly Rest In Peace.

Here is one of the most pivotal scenes in the film, and it is a chance to see the phenomenal Kim Stanley as Frances' mother.

Enjoy:

Another Blast from the Past

2008-05-27T06:58:00.000-07:00

This time, it's a tune penned by Mel Tillis, and it's been covered by many.

I first heard "Mental Revenge" on an old Linda Ronstadt album, and then I heard it again, while listening to a "Best of Linda" CD compilation.

When I was trying to find a video with Linda singing it on YouTube, I found this classic video of Waylon Jennings taking a turn at it.

I love it, and I think my faithful readers will love this one too. I think he's probably on one of the old country TV shows like "Town and Country," or another.

It's from 1966. Check out the Fender Telecaster. I love this one. I love it because I can actually see his fingering on the guitar, and I can replicate that on mine. Sometimes, I get together with a friend of mine who can really sing, and we pick out old tunes like this.

This was a golden age in classic country, when folks like Waylon and Johnny Cash were establishing themselves.

Here are the lyrics, and I hope you enjoy the video as well. I think the lyrics really speak to me, and I am sure, others.

Mental Revenge
written by Mel Tillis

Well I hope that the friend that you've thrown yourself on
Gets drunk and loses her job
And every road that you travel on
Is dusty rocky and hard

I couldn't make you love me
You only made me blue
So all in all if the curtain should fall
Then I hope that it falls on you

And I will have sweet
Sweet sweet mental revenge
I will have sweet
Sweet sweet mental revenge

Well I hope that the train from Caribou, Maine
Runs over your new love affair
You'll walk the floor from dawn to dawn
And you'll tear out your peroxide hair

I never was your woman
Cause you were never true
So all in all if the curtain should fall
Then I hope that it falls on you

And I will have sweet
Sweet sweet mental revenge
I will have sweet
Sweet sweet mental revenge
I will have sweet
Sweet sweet mental revenge
I will have sweet
Sweet sweet mental revenge

Maybe Hillary should use her for door-to-door campaigning?

2008-05-13T18:37:00.000-07:00

Our tax dollars go to MARTA--Atlanta's rapid transit system--and is this what we pay for?

Do we pay so unstable individuals can hold court and harass older folks, while everyone looks on and do absolutely nothing to shut her up?

All I can say is that maybe she can go to work for Hillary, in a last ditch effort to bully people into voting for her...

Actually, maybe Hillary--who often claims to be down with the 'peeps' herself--should start talking and acting like this young lady. Maybe she should wear the same garb, and call Obama "Shorty" a few times. At this point in her dismal campaign, it couldn't hurt.

Incidents such as the one below are part of the reason that racism is alive and well in the South, particularly Atlanta. I'm not saying it's right. It isn't, but I believe Rev. King is probably turning over in his grave when thinking that he lost his life, so idiots like this one could freestyle rap, while harassing an elderly black woman and yelling "Shorty," in every other breath.

I am sorry to say, but if I had been on that train, I would have immediately called the driver and had her escorted off, and, knowing me, I would have been 'chicken-heading' her back. Instead, it's too much fun to record the idiot going off and only respond after she's almost ready to kick the crap out of an old woman.

No doubt we are not like NYC's subway system, but oddly enough when I was in NYC, I didn't encounter any problems on the subway. It's only been here in Atlanta that I have been accosted by crack addicts, or a group of 'hooligans' yelling, "I don't LIKE WHITE PEOPLE...I HATE WHITE PEOPLE..." as they moved their way down the aisle, knocking a man's glasses off, while he pretended to read the paper, etc.

I've read that this young lady was off her medication. I really hope that is the case.

Well, on with "da show, BOY-EEEEEEE"

Musical 'Iron'-y

2008-05-05T11:57:00.000-07:00

Over the weekend, I went on a downloading frenzy, and ripped some great music from Wanda Jackson, Faron Young, Jim Ed Brown/The Browns and last, but certainly not least, Johnny Horton.

Most remember Johnny for his "Battle of New Orleans," but this man was the king of rock-a-billy with a twang, and had some pretty impressive fans like Johnny Cash. Horton was not a drinker, and warned others who did drink, as he played the Louisiana Hayride.

Here's where it gets weird.

Horton married Hank Williams' widow, Billie Jean (she was married to Hank for about two months before he died of an overdose in 1952) in 1953, and she was destined to be yet another widow when Horton was killed in a head-on collision with a drunk driver in Texas, on his way back from a concert appearance.

Horton was only 35. I first took notice of Horton, when I heard the original recording of "Honky Tonk Man," when I was watching a film. Up until that time, I had only heard the Dwight Yoakam cover of the song.

"The Mansion You Stole" is a really interesting song, and they really don't make country troubadours like Horton anymore. Listen to the lyrics and/or read the lyrics here. I think all of us can relate to this lament in one way or another.

Faron Young was quite a character. I first saw him when the old Nashville Network was still on cable, and Young and Dottie West would host a video show that showed old clips from shows like Town and Country, Hee Haw, Louisiana Hayride, etc. It was an awesome show, but I had not heard of Faron Young, until I heard him sing "Hello Walls."

Then, I realized that I had heard versions of that song, but I didn't realize it was one of his biggest hits.

Unmitigated Gall is one of his hits that really stood out for me, when I listened to his work last night. The lyrics were written by Mel Tillis, whose daughter, Pam, re-recorded Unmitigated Gall a few years ago.

I just love the lyrics, as they seem ironic to me right now for many reasons. I cannot seem to find a clip of Faron singing it, but I will post the lyrics.

Poor Faron shot himself, after realizing he had a very serious illness, in 1996. It was a shock to his friends and family.

Enjoy!

"Mansion that you stole"

The Mansion You Stole

The mansion I own has captured your heart
You said it was love dear but you lied from the start
I wanted true love but you wanted my gold
Someday you'll be sorry for the lies that you told

You've stolen my heart and you cheated on me
But someday my darling I know that you'll see
A house without love can make you so cold
And you will be lonely in the mansion you stole

"Unmitigated Gall"
Words by Mel Tillis

Well, how can you have
The unmitigated gall
To come back now
Expecting me to fall.

Right down on my knees
And kiss your feet, yeah feet
Feet that one day
Went a walking out on me.

With a fast talking slob
You hardly knew his name
Your mind is
De-arranged.

And where did you get
The backbone and grit
To come back now
Expecting me to fit.

Right back into plans
That we once made
Plans that now are gone forever
To return never, ever.

I don't want you anymore
So get away from my door.
And let me live, live, live
And let me live, live, live.

Don't come messin'
Up my life again
How can you have
The courage and the nerve.

To come back now
Expecting me to love you
After the way
That you've done me.

Guess you think
That I'm a fool
But you're the one
That's blew their cool.

I don't need you anymore
So get away from my door.
And let me live, live, live
And let me live, live, live...

Here's Faron singing Hello Walls:

Okay, here's a question for any of the readers who still visit here. What famous singer/songwriter wrote "Hello Walls?"

The Apocolypse Must Be Near...

2008-04-24T18:53:00.000-07:00

Oh yes, we've learned so much from the tragedies of 9/11 and Katrina, etc. Remember for that brief, day or so, how we all thought about what really matters in this life?

Yes, here is what I came across this evening, as reading it really warmed the cockles of my jaded heart!!!

It's all about that cute little cherub Miley Cyrus...you know "Achy Breaky IlookandsoundlikeBillClinton Heart Billy Ray" Cyrus' daughter.

From MTV UK:

Miley Cyrus- the 15 year old star of kids show Hannah Montana- has signed a deal to write her first book.

Disney- who also make her TV show, film, albums and merchandise- will release her autobiography in 2009.

According to reports the book will focus of Miley’s relationship with her mother and family.

Christian Cyrus said she wanted to: “motivate mothers and daughters to build lifetimes of memories together and inspire kids around the world to live their dreams."

An AUTOBIOGRAPHY????

Oh my god.

(said with a whiny country accent) "It waw-s the best of tah-mes, it waw-s the worst of tah-mes"

What in the HELL is she going to write about?

"....and then I got my period."

Ridiculous and audacious don't even begin to describe this travesty of pulp.

Gas prices are so high that most Americans cannot even take a vacation this summer, rice is vanishing as a staple, foreclosures are at their highest ever, but a 15-year-old pop star deserves a seven figure salary, because we all need to know when her breasts started developing.

"Diddy said I could sing too..."

What a sick, sick culture we live in.

I hope they offer her "racy" pictures as a special DVD insert to the book. Maybe she'll go to rehab during the book's publication, and they'll have to add an 'Epilogue' to her distinguished career.

Hell, maybe we should just give her a Kennedy Center Honor, along with honoring the distinguished careers of Cato Kaelin, Paris Hilton and Britney Spears.

Bea Arthur will sing a tribute to Miley, and Patti LuPone will sing selections from the upcoming Andrew Lloyd Weber musical "At Least We Have Paris."

And the "American Idol Loser" chorus will sing a tribute to Cato Kaelin.

The ideas are limitless.

The passing of the seasons

2008-04-10T11:14:00.000-07:00

April is a precarious time in Georgia.

As Spring tries to sprout via the pollen-laden trees--the Dogwoods , peach and cherry blossom --the last vestiges of Winter try desperately to hang on for dear life.

One day it can be sunny, 78 degrees and no humidity, and then the next 55 degrees and windy. Since February, we've experienced a round of tornadoes, followed by frigid temperatures at least three times.

I do recall even experiencing a snow storm in the first weeks of April, many years ago.

It's a tumultuous time, but Spring wins out, as everything that was old is new again and things that were dead come to life again.

In the past two weeks, I've seen the struggle and ultimate passage of life to death and death to life in my own neighborhood.

A couple of months ago, my neighbor and friend, Donna, called to ask me if I wanted to see John Fogerty in concert--FOR FREE! Um...YEAH!

When I asked Donna who gave the tickets to her, she told me about Ken Durr--a neighbor that lives in our complex--someone I had never met.

Donna told me that Ken was a writer and a 'hermit' like Donna and me, and that he'd been living in our complex for a few years. She also told me that he was a Vietnam Vet, who was exposed to Agent Orange. From that exposure, he had already battled prostate cancer and won, but now his body was--again--riddled with The Big C.

We bought Ken a John Fogerty t-shirt and his latest cd, and I finally met Ken.

It was like meeting an old friend. Through his weakened state, there was a distinct charisma that shone like a bright light from him.

We talked shop: He told me about how he was a copywriter back in the day, and how he was working on a book about the brothels that used to dot the train tracks all along Georgia, during WWII.

Well, that caught my attention. According to Ken, basically there were little towns along the routes that took GI's in and out of Fort Benning, GA, that basically served as um, shall we say "R&R" towns for the boys getting ready to ship out or train for WWII.

I was hooked, so to speak.

Ken and I sat and talked for about an hour, which is about all he could handle, and he gave me a big hug as I left.

Little did I know that it would be one of the last times I'd see him alive. We emailed, as he went through chemo, and he would write when he was up to it. He was always upbeat, determined to kick the cancer that was ravaging his body.

If anyone could do it, it would be Ken Durr. He made it out of Vietnam alive--he was in the middle of combat as a helicopter pilot--and he saw the Cancer as a weaker battle.

But, as in Vietnam, he underestimated the enemy.

Two weeks ago, Donna called me when I was in a meeting with a client, to tell me that Ken had died at home, with his wife by his side.

For most people that know me, you know that I don't "do" funerals very well. I find, especially in the south, the whole propping the coffin open and sitting and staring at a soul who has obviously passed sort of, well, morbid, but that's just me.

I know for many, it's a time to say a final goodbye. For me, when I go, I want no pomp and circumstance, as my body is going to Emory University for medical students to work on, and then to be cremated.

However, when it came to Ken Durr, I was going to the viewing and the funeral. His wife, Darlene, had been his full-time partner, caretaker, nurse 24/7. I wanted to go for her too. It was hard to see him in the coffin, bald and gaunt.

I preferred the pictures of him, next to the casket, when he was well, full of life, and smiling. I didn't know Ken for very long, but when I met him, I felt like I knew him forever. I am glad his suffering is over, and it seems appropriate that as the calendar seasons changed, so did Ken's season come to an end during Spring.

His spirit is still all around.

Another soul passed on as well last week.

I have a dear friend, Colleen, and over the years we have been the best of friends and sometimes we've so gotten on each other's nerves, that we have to take a break.

Our tempers run about the same, and we have some of the same issues about holding things in and then going off at some point. Both of us know how we are when we "go off" and I think we restrain, or handle conflicts in email sometimes, because we know what would happen if we did it in person.

It doesn't mean I don't love or care about her, because I always have and I always will, but there are times when I'm overly sensitive about issues, or she is sensitive about something, and our 'issues' sort of bump up against each other.

We are sort of like 'Gladiators' in battle, but when the dust clears, I always have her back and she's got mine.

She's been going through a lot in the past few years, and her will to survive is something I admire. Colleen is like the 'Phoenix.' No matter the crisis, she will rise, unscathed and stronger out of the ashes.

Colleen is one of the biggest characters I have ever met. She is larger than life, and I suppose that is what has always attracted me to her as a friend.

Throughout our relationship, her mom and dad have played a large role. The stories she has about growing up in Louisiana, with her daddy taking her everywhere, are priceless. Like her, her daddy was larger than life.

I wish I could have met him in person, but the times that I was invited to go with her back home, I had to work, or something didn't work out.

After a long illness, Colleen's daddy passed last week. She had just gotten home to see him, to sit with him, to hold his hand and tell him that she loved him, and vice versa, so that is a good thing.

When I saw some of the pictures from the graveside service, it looked like a gorgeous Spring day. There's no doubt that his soul is still alive and all around. Much of it is embodied by Colleen herself.

For Ken and Les, and their families, this is for you:

To everything there is a season,
a time for every purpose under the sun.

A time to be born and a time to die;
a time to plant and a time to pluck up that which is planted;

a time to kill and a time to heal ...
a time to weep and a time to laugh;

a time to mourn and a time to dance ...
a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing;

a time to lose and a time to seek;
a time to rend and a time to sew;

a time to keep silent and a time to speak;
a time to love and a time to hate;

a time for war and a time for peace.

ecclesiastes 3:1-8

Utter Brilliance

2008-03-29T07:33:00.000-07:00

About a month ago, Susan and I finally got a chance to see Julie Taymor's musical directorial debut, "Across the Universe." I'd seen her work in the directing of "Frida" about artist, Frida Kahlo, which was also visually brilliant.

But the way this film was made has literally changed my life. It's one of the most visually stunning works I have ever seen.

Critics have lambasted it for being somewhat of a long music video, but I totally disagree. Only Taymor could take the Beatles songbook and weave it into a linear narrative that takes viewers on a kaleidoscope tour of the 1960's via a group of friends, who are thrust together from various points "Across the Universe."

There are too many nuances to mention here, but when I saw it in the movie theatre--a rare treat for $1.75--I didn't take my eyes from the screen once.

The editing, the choreography, cinematography, and last but not least, the performances of the lead characters really gel together.

Since we've experienced the film, we've bought the extended version DVD, and we've screened it for friends about three times now, and I am not sick of it at all. For me, it's like watching Coppola's Godfather I and II. I can watch both of those films to 'infinity and beyond' and never tire of their cinematic genius as well.

Ms. Taymor cares about every detail, and--to me--she's a genius, hands down. We saw her production of "The Magic Flute" at the Met in NYC, last Christmas, and it was just as brilliant. She is a rare talent, and I envy her genius.

It's definitely a gift.

If you have not seen the film, rent it, Pay-Per-View it, or buy it. You will not be sorry that you did.

I am now a true-blue fan of Ms. Dana Fuchs. She plays "Sadie" in the film. Without sounding like Rex Reed, Dana Fuchs is FAB-U-LOUS!!!

And she's damn hot too. I hope she will come down to Atlanta, after her European tour.

Here are some clips from the film: Hopefully, you will see them before they get yanked.

The first is one of the best, in my opinion. Who else but Taymor would come up with these visuals for the song, "I Want You...I Want You So Bad, Baby?" It's the Uncle Sam poster that hooked me into this scene, and I never looked back.

This scene is so relevant today, as it is in the film.

And here is another, brilliant performance by Ms. Dana Fuchs as "Sadie."

A fun, fun scene, which makes me want to go bowling with my socks on, and my favorite song:

Finally, my favorite scene:

Visit Dana Fuchs' website/blog:

Dana Fuchs

The Montel Conspiracy

2008-02-13T07:31:00.000-08:00

Okay, I admit it.

I'm one of those obsessive, sweaty armpits types--at times--that's always looking for a 'gunman in the grassy knoll' no matter what.

Seriously, don't get me started on the JFK Assassination, or I'll start talking like Kevin Costner doing Jim Garrison.

"Back...and to the left....Back and to the left..."

Heck, the jury is still out for me concerning Princess Diana's death, but I digress.

My point--and I do have one--is that many times I think the 'conspiracy' is there. Whether that means I need to up my dosage of Lexapro, or whether it's the intrepid reporter in me I have no idea.

Case in point: Montel Williams

When I have time, and the TV is on, I'll catch Montel. He's one of the least offensive daytime talk show hosts, in my opinion, and he's a military veteran, etc. Most of his shows are helpful, instead of "Who My Baby Daddy?" shows on that disgusting "Maury" show.

Montel's staying power is evident, as he's been on the air for over 16 years. But that just changed, abruptly, as several Fox affiliates, etc. refused to re-up their contracts with Montel. This, in and of itself, would not be a smoking gun, or enough to warrant a grassy knoll, however add the following interview with Montel on the Fox Network's morning program--Fox and Friends (how original), just seven days before he was axed from television, and it makes for good conspiracy conversation.

Give a big salute to Montel Williams--a true patriot--who dared to point out the absurdity of the 'cult of celebrity' in America. Don't get me wrong, I was saddened by the passing of Heath Ledger, as I am saddened by any young person who dies before their time.

However, four homeless persons in Atlanta died in one night, from exposure, right around the time of Heath's death, and it was barely covered by local news and, to my knowledge, nothing in the national news about these four people.

And that's what they were: human beings, just like Heath. I wonder who they were, what they did in their lives, and I wonder even more about a country whose government is bent on spending billions of dollars on a fraudulent war, killing men and women every day, who allows anyone in this country to go without adequate shelter.

With the amount of money spent on this war, America could clothe, house, feed every homeless person, family, in this country.

Montel Williams spoke a truth that Fox News wouldn't know if it bit them on their fleshy ass, and I do believe that it resulted in his show being yanked, primarily due to Fox affiliates refusing to re-up their contracts for the show. This diversion from what is going on in Chad, Kenya, Iraq, Iran, etc., by focusing on every fart Britney makes, or the next blond-haired ,blue-eyed teenage girl that disappears--thousands of minority teens go missing every day, and we see little coverage anywhere--is precisely what our government wants us to see and hear every day.

Well, that and watching Hillary "cry" on cue, after she loses a primary race.

Folks, if you believe you are getting "the real truth" from any network or cable news organization, then you must believe that JFK, Marilyn Monroe, James Dean and Elvis are all living on a remote island in Fiji.

....well, don't get me started on that theory, either....

Even better "Stupid" song...

2008-01-29T11:53:00.001-08:00

Since I am on a roll with songs and videos, here is "Stupid Girl" by Garbage. Great lyrics.

Sometimes, one finds a song that says everything and I think this one is it.

Enjoy.

You pretend you're high
Pretend you're bored
Pretend you're anything
Just to be adored
And what you need
Is what you get

Don't believe in fear
Don't believe in faith
Don't believe in anything
That you can't break

You stupid girl
You stupid girl
All you had you wasted
All you had you wasted

What drives you on
Can drive you mad
A million lies to sell yourself
Is all you ever had

Don't believe in love
Don't believe in hate
Don't belive in anything
That you can't waste

You stupid girl
You stupid girl
Can't believe you fake it
Can't believe you fake it

Don't believe in fear
Don't believe in pain
Don't believe in anyone
That you can't tame

You stupid girl
You stupid girl
All you had you wasted
All you had you wasted
You stupid girl
You stupid girl
Can't believe you fake it
Can't believe you fake it

Stupid Girls....Stupid Women too

2008-01-29T11:24:00.000-08:00

Over the weekend, I was listening to a fantastic cd by Pink, where she sings an opine to girls who think that acting stupid will get them everything that they want in life, that being a shallow twit is how to get ahead.

Thank God for Pink. I think every parent with daughters should make them watch this video and pay special attention to the lyrics.

As well, I think some women need to watch the video and listen to and/or read the lyrics. In particular, I'm thinking of a certain woman that I know, who continues to make very dangerous and STUPID life choices, even after she's been through the same situation over and over again.

How does one become that STUPID? I have no idea, but I certainly hope she reads this post and watches the video.

As well, I am sending it to all of my friends with daughters, along with sending it to my niece.

Lyrics:

Stupid Girls

Stupid girl, stupid girls, stupid girls
Maybe if I act like that, that guy will call me back
Porno Paparazzi girl, I don't wanna be a stupid girl

Go to Fred Segal, you'll find them there
Laughing loud so all the little people stare
Looking for a daddy to pay for the champagne
(Drop a name)
What happened to the dreams of a girl president
She's dancing in the video next to 50 Cent
They travel in packs of two or three
With their itsy bitsy doggies and their teeny-weeny tees
Where, oh where, have the smart people gone?
Oh where, oh where could they be?

Maybe if I act like that, that guy will call me back
Porno Paparazzi girl, I don't wanna be a stupid girl
Baby if I act like that, flipping my blond hair back
Push up my bra like that, I don't wanna be a stupid girl

(Break it down now)
Disease's growing, it's epidemic
I'm scared that there ain't a cure
The world believes it and I'm going crazy
I cannot take any more
I'm so glad that I'll never fit in
That will never be me
Outcasts and girls with ambition
That's what I wanna see
Disasters all around
World despaired
Their only concern
Will they **** up my hair

Maybe if I act like that, that guy will call me back
Porno Paparazzi girl, I don't wanna be a stupid girl
Baby if I act like that, flipping my blond hair back
Push up my bra like that, I don't wanna be a stupid girl

[Interlude]
Oh my god you guys, I totally had more than 300 calories
That was so not sexy, no
Good one, can I borrow that?
[Vomits]
I WILL BE SKINNY

(Do ya thing, do ya thing, do ya thing)
(I like this, like this, like this)
Pretty will you **** me girl, silly as a lucky girl
Pull my head and suck it girl, stupid girl!
Pretty would you **** me girl, silly as a lucky girl
Pull my head and suck it girl, stupid girl!

Baby if I act like that, flipping my blond hair back
Push up my bra like that, stupid girl!

Maybe if I act like that, that guy will call me back
Porno Paparazzi girl, I don't wanna be a stupid girl
Baby if I act like that, flipping my blond hair back
Push up my bra like that, I don't wanna be a stupid girl

R.I.P.:Shasta 1996--2008

2008-01-08T17:32:00.000-08:00

Yesterday morning--ironically, Elvis' birthday-- I received word from my mother that one of our beloved family dogs had to be put down.

Shasta came to us, as many of the dogs that my family owned over the years, quite by accident. Our next door neighbor owned Shasta and her partner in crime, Lady, and both dogs would escape from their own fenced in prison, as if they were escaping from Alcatraz.

Once they got out, they had the run of the neighborhood, but for some reason they would return to our house, not to their own house.

We'd see Shasta and Lady at the top of the hill, scream "Shasta-kis and Lady-kins" and Shasta's tail would be straight up, in a corkscrew sort of way, and she'd be wagging it and running down to the house.

This was a daily occurrence, until a couple of days-in-a-row passed and we didn't see either dog. I finally could not stand it any longer and asked my neighbor what happened.

"My husband got mad because our son won't watch his dogs, so he threw them in the back of the truck and took them to the Atlanta Humane Society," said his wife.

I was mortified.

Then, she added," He told me that Lady fell out of the truck on Interstate 85...I'm really angry with him."

Yeah? Not as angry as I was. I wanted to take a lead pipe to his head. Poor Lady.

But when my brother--we used to tell him his middle name was "Dog"--found out about Shasta and Lady, he went ballistic.

With the okay from my mother, he went down to the Atlanta Humane Society to find Shasta. He said that she was all the way in the back of the place, in her own 'cage,' looking sad, and he said "Shasta-kis," and she looked up, but still couldn't see my brother.

He said it again, louder, "SHASTA-KIS" and she jumped up, saw David and came running toward him, whimpering and all excited.

He brought her home, and after a few days of confusion and upset over her best friend, Lady, being gone, she quickly fit into the menagerie of dogs and cats at the house.

We found out, from a woman who was out when we were walking with Shasta, that she was quite possibly an Australian Blue Tick.Hound variation, and she was a "digger."

Even when I tried to be mad at her, for digging out a spot to escape the huge fenced-in backyard, there was no way that I could be mad at her. You could judge where she was in the neighborhood by the barks of all of the "friends" she just had to visit.

It would end up with Shasta coming home about 45 minutes after she dug out of the fence, wondering if she was going to get in trouble. Looking into those big brown eyes of hers, I totally understood her need to be Steve McQueen in "The Great Escape," even down to all of us taking huge concrete blocks to block every weak area of the fence.

It didn't matter. Shasta would spend hours trying to find another spot, refusing to come in the house when called, until she would find another way to get out and party.

You gotta love that spirit! As she got older, she had to endure introduction to more stray animals, including the last edition at my mother's house: Milly. Milly is a Jack Russell mix, a big yapper, and she got on Shasta's last nerve.

God love her, Shasta was such a good girl. I should have known something was up, the last time I house-sat for my mom, when Shasta--who usually couldn't wait to take a long walk in the morning--could not keep up anymore and seemed to want to go home.

I attributed it to arthritis, but it was not arthritis. One of my last encounters and memories of Shasta, or "Shas-E-Frass" as I called her, was Shasta refusing to come inside on a warm, sunny day a couple of months ago.

I knew where I would find her. She was laying in front of her last escape route, which was sealed over, and she looked up with her sad brown eyes and pleaded for me to let her go. I couldn't do it, because my mom's neighborhood has gotten worse, and it's not safe for her to roam, but I so wanted to.

I coaxed her into the house and loved on her for a long time, pushing crazy Milly away, and I had the feeling something was not right.

My mother said that over the past few days, Shasta had been making BM's that were black as tar, loose and bloody. Not good. As well, my mom said she didn't want to move and was losing her bladder, etc.

She wrapped up our Shasta in her arms and took her to our vet of 28 years, and when the Vet techs came to greet her, they already knew what was going on.

She was bleeding internally and her organs were shutting down, and it was time for Shasta to cross over the "Rainbow Bridge.'

I guess it's corny, but I broke down and sobbed like a baby when my mother told me. I loved that dog, and she was always a fighter and survivor. This was the one time she couldn't find an escape route out of it.

Mom said that Shas seemed to sense what was happening and my mom said she placed her hands on Shasta as they gave her "the shot," and said, "You gave her to us, God, now please welcome her back to you."

Shas-E-Frass, I am going to miss you something terrible, and thank you for all of the fun, love, companionship and irritating barks at 5:30am in the morning.

I know you are up there playing with Blackie, Evita, Sam, BiBi, and last but not least, your best pal, Lady.

Happy New Year and all that jazz...

2007-12-31T23:16:00.000-08:00

Greetings patient readers! I have not kept up with my blogging duties as well as I should, but, as usual, it has been a crazy, crazy holiday season for Susan and me.

First, Susan had her much anticipated concert with the Our Song choir, here in Atlanta. In the weeks leading up to the concert, Susan had a terrible sinus infection. We were not sure if she was even going to be well enough to perform, but with 'better living through chemistry' she got on the right meds and was able to perform magnificently, if I do say so myself...and, well, I do.

She was as beautiful as I have ever seen her, and as many of our friends and family commented too.

I will post a picture. Her voice was in good form, and she got through her solo bits and a beautiful trio flawlessly.

For me, I was on a holiday deadline with three articles due for one publication--which I am still on today, with one article due by New Year's Eve day--and I took over as "gift buyer" this year, since Susan says I am the one who knows what to get everyone.

Add to the mix that I had to spend a week in Savannah, making my stubborn and ill-tempered father go to the doctor.His feet have been swollen twice the size as normal, and when we went to see him in October, he couldn't even walk without a cane!

I made him take of his shoes and socks and I thought I was going to scream when I saw his feet and ankles.

My father gets on my last nerve, for many reasons, but the fact that his pride makes him refuse to see a doctor, when he has Diabetes and other issues, rankles me to no end. I was ready to lay into him, but Susan--realizing that my head was about to pop off, and knowing that it would only make my father more stubborn--stepped up to the plate and calmly told my dad that he really needed to see a doctor.

He finally admitted that he was scared, so I told him that I would find a doctor for him, come down there and take him to the appointment myself, etc. That's just what I did.

I stayed a week, and while I was there I managed to get an interview with a convenience store owner that I had been trying to wrangle an interview from for months, so that was good. Anyway, I took my dad to "Dr. Arrogant," as I call him

Don't get me wrong. The guy knows what he is doing, but he was a real jerk as far as his ego is concerned. It was a stressful week, because my father has a knack for lying to doctors, and I kept catching him lying, so I would tell what was really going on to the nurse and doctor, and my dad was getting really angry with me.

I didn't care.

So, my trip culminated with my father having a blood clot in his right leg, and him yelling at me on the way home from that visit, when I told him he was going to have to be careful and really do what the doctor told him to do about his feet, legs and the blood clot.

He went off on me, as if I were a 12-year-old kid, telling me that I needed to "shut up" and that I "didn't really care about him."

Oh boy...let me tell you, I quickly stuck my car in park, locked the doors and let him have it. I don't think I've ever done that with him before, when he's been an abusive jerk, but there was no way he was going to talk to me like that.

Though I don't like to do it, I had to yell over him over and over, until I was the loudest one, and he had no choice but to listen to what I had to say.

For the first time, my father was speechless. As well, as I dropped him off and left Savannah, he was very worried that I would never speak to him again. I assured him that I would, but that I would not allow him to speak or to treat me that way ever again.

When I got home from Savannah, I had an email waiting for me. For the first time in my adult life, my father apologized for his actions, told me that he loved me for coming down and taking him to the doctor, and he said that I was right all along. He did need to see a doctor.

Now, I don't hold my breath that the man has changed completely, but I was surprised that he 'got it' about his health and my concern for him.

So, reeling from that week, I went right into to deadline mode. As well, we had to sing with our church choir, bake cookies for the ladies in the shelter at the church, make Christmas bags for our friends and neighbors.

It was an E-ticket ride up until we left to go to our cabin on the 23rd. Both of us were completely worn out, but once we got to the little town of Murphy, NC, and to our cute little cabin in the hills, it was like night and day.

Both of us were able to relax--there was a private jacuzzi on the back porch--and have a nice, quiet Christmas--just the two of us and no dysfunctional family--together.

I surprised Susan with rings this year. I had not planned to do that, as I had been turned off on the idea, after a friend of ours kept collecting rings from her multiple "partners" after knowing them for a month or so, then the relationship would not work out, and she'd keep the ring.

It just seemed so silly and 7th grade, when I watched what she was doing, that neither Susan or I wanted it to have so little meaning. However, when we went to Savannah in October, Susan kept looking at Celtic rings, etc. I knew that she wanted something, since the black vinyl rings we had previously worn, to symbolize the fact that gays and lesbians cannot marry in this country, had broken.

I relented and found some rings that I could afford, as well as being rings that I knew Susan would love. We both are not into diamonds, given how most diamonds are harvested--read a book entitled Blood Diamond, if you want to know the real story--and how so many folks in Sierra Leone and other areas of Africa have lost limbs and their lives over the harvesting of diamonds. Diamonds are lovely, but they represent total greed to me.

I settled on two sterling silver bands, with the following words--I believe it's in Gaelic-- etched into each ring:

One ring to show our love
One ring to bind us
One ring to seal our love
And forever to entwine us

Susan loved the rings, and I had an "Elvis" Christmas, which suited me just fine, along with a boxed set of Johnny Cash songs!!! It was great. Along with the rings, I gave Susan a "Melissa Etheridge" Christmas, which suited her just fine. I was able to find and buy some Missy E concert T-shirts, and a sweatshirt, along with Rufus Wainwright's tribute to Judy Garland. She loved it.

So, here it is New Year's Eve 2007, and it's been a year of surprises and change, some good, some odd, and some that needed to occur even though I didn't know it at the time.

I've moved up in the writing world. I haven't won the Pulitzer, but I'm finally starting to make a respectable living at freelance writing. We've made new friends, which is great, and even with the bumps in the road, all in all, I am happy and I know that I am loved.

It's a good feeling.

Here's to 2008.

Susan, looking very beautiful:

The Gifts of the Red Tailed Hawk

2007-12-05T07:16:00.000-08:00

As it is our custom every morning, my neighbor and friend Donna and I took our morning walk. We try to walk about 2.5 miles every morning. Sometimes we make it and other times we don't. Either way, it's good for us both to get out, since we primarily work from home.

Lo and behold during our walk, yesterday, we were witness to a beautiful hawk, perched in one of the trees in our condo community.
We were so excited, and I ran home to get my camera, while Donna grabbed her binoculars. We believe it is a Red Tailed Hawk, after looking at the pictures. It was gorgeous, and it seemed to wait for us, allow us to snap some pictures, and then promptly and majestically flew from the tree.

That encounter, alone, made my whole morning, but the events of the rest of the day were even more interesting.

After we saw the hawk, I helped Donna take a bunch of large boxes to the trash compactor, and out of the blue, a guy that was there emptying his trash, took over and took all of the boxes and put them in the compactor. We didn't even know who he was, but he did it all. Very nice thing.

Later in the day, Donna called me and said, "Hey what are you doing tonight? Do you want to go see John Fogerty in concert?"

What??? Are you kidding??? I said, "well, how much does it cost?" and she said, "Oh, honey it doesn't cost a thing, I got the tickets FOR FREE!!!"

Another neighbor of ours, that I have not met, but will do so now, was not able to go to the concert so he handed the tickets to Donna.

Not only were they free, but they were incredible seats at the new Cobb Energy Centre, here in Marietta.

Fogerty has not lost his touch, since his days with Creedence Clearwater Revival. This guy played, non-stop, for two hours. His band was smokin'--no joke. What an even bigger treat to know that Billy Burnette was one of his guitarists.

One of the most touching parts of the rocking concert was John's song concerning Iraq, while looking back at the Vietnam war as well. While he sang the song, "Deja Vu All Over Again," a video played, with all sorts of images from Iraq and Vietnam. It was very moving.

Fogerty rocked the roof off of the gorgeous venue.

This is one of those almost perfect days, that rarely happen. Donna and I couldn't figure out what we had done to receive that sort of Karmic gift, but then I read a little about the Red Tailed Hawk.

It seems that this particular bird of prey is held sacred by many Native American tribes, and here's what I found on a particular Web site:

Pueblo peoples referred to them as "red eagles" and felt that red-tailed hawks, like the eagle, had a special connection with the sky and the sun. Because hawks are high fliers who can see the earth clearly from their heights, their feathers were often used ceremonially to carry prayers to the sun and the Creator. Hawk feathers, as well as eagle, were also used in healing ceremonies. Southwestern people used them in ceremonies to pray for rain. To the Ojibwa, the Red-tailed Hawk clan was on of the leadership clans. Its members have the gifts of deliberation and foresight.

From what I understand, as well, when you see one of these birds, it means that good luck is coming to you.

I'd say, from everything that happened yesterday, this is true.

Donna says this is the Red Tailed Hawk, but I am not so sure. Take a look at the pictures for yourself, and if there is anyone looking at the pictures who knows about raptors and birds of prey, let me know if this is the Red Tail Hawk or a different hawk.

It's beautiful nonetheless.

It's these rare moments that make life so worth living.

And FOGERTY ROCKS!!!!

Enjoy the pictures.

Wanda Sykes For President!

2007-11-29T20:54:00.000-08:00

That's all I have got to say about that!

My stomach is aching from laughing at one of her pranks on Comedy Central's "Crank Yankers." Basically, that show is a replica of the work from "The Jerky Boys," but this nugget is one of the most funny bits I have ever heard, period.

Wanda Sykes is one of the THE funniest ladies I have ever seen or heard. If scatological humor--hence hearing the word "turd" or "shit" bothers you--do not click play.

Well, enough of me rambling here. Just watch/listen to the prank:

"Attend me, you wench"

2007-11-26T06:50:00.000-08:00

No,

This is not what I say to Susan when I want a little "somethin' somethin," although I have now threatened that it is what I will say in the future.

If you could see the look on Susan's face when I said that. Well, let's just say I was sufficiently frightened. ha.

For part of my birthday gift, Susan took me to "Medieval Times," in nearby Duluth, GA. It was a blast, really.

Part of my fascination with this franchise is the fact that it IS a franchise. I think they have them all over the U.S., and the part of me that really loves cheesy things like this was just itching to go. At the same time, I had heard that the performers were very good, given their limitations and the audience.

I really wanted to find out whether the serving wenches, king, queen, knights, etc., spoke with a southern accent, not unlike when I went to Helen, GA--the southern version of a Bavarian city--and the waitress at the German restaurant, clad in lederhosen, said with her nasally southern twang, "Ya'll want some Schnitzel?" I kid you not.

Hitler's moustache would have twirled, had he heard her.

My smile was huge as we were in line waiting to go in, and they had two "heralds" actually playing the long trumpets, inviting us to the kingdom of "King Alfonzo," or "Fonzie" as I affectionately

nicknamed him.

From the moment we stepped into the huge waiting area, I knew this was going to be great on many levels.

First off, they put paper crowns on our heads, not unlike the one's at Burger King, with our knight's colors, then we were whisked away to have a picture taken with "The Queen." Of course, I walked toward a very effeminate young man, but Susan steered me to the real, ah-hem, queen!

Does it get any better than this?

Oh, yeah it does.

The waiting area, with "Ye Olde Tavern" up-front, with ever so Medieval "Fat Tuesday" daiquiri and margarita-making machines.

That's right. I do remember reading about these machines in a book about Henry VIII. I believe Anne Boelyn requested them.

Seriously, the fireplace is fantastic. I'd love to have a home and install such a huge fireplace. It was rather cozy, and after the bar wench loaded my daiquiri with a lot of Rum, and I carted it away in my super cool "Medieval Times" plastic cup that LIGHTS UP ON THE BOTTOM (whoo hoo!), I was almost drunk by the time we were called into the "arena."

Oh yeah, the gift shop wench tried to entice us into the dungeon--eyebrow raised--and we were game, until she told us it would cost another 2 dollars.

The arena itself was great, but what really spoiled the "Medieval mood" for me had to be the hocking of the "royal glow-in-the-dark swords," etc. I mean, this is schlocky to begin with, but I highly doubt that historians will ever uncover King Henry's "glow-in-the-dark dagger" anytime soon.

The coolest part, actually, apart from the knights in mortal combat, was when the Royal Falconer came center stage and this gorgeous falcon was let loose on the crowd. It's trained to fly the length of the whole arena, and it was a magnificent sight to behold. It really was.

Thank God it didn't rain "royal poop" while the falcon made it's way around the arena.

Our serving wench, Jasmine, was par excellent! I'd say, if you just want to go to have a good time, and not take things so seriously, it is a blast.

My Birthday...

I was completely satisfied with my experience at Medieval Times, even when the "mysterious oracle" sounded like a cross between Barry White and Ork from "Mork and Mindy,"but then I was waiting and gearing up for my free birthday meal from a local Italian restaurant.

What made my day even more special was the fact that a new friend was able to join us for my birthday dinner.

She gave me the coolest card with the following quote from Emerson, as she knew it was exactly what I needed to hear right now. She also picked up the tab!! That was very sweet, period.

I thought I would share it with those who have been faithful readers, even when I lag behind on updated posts, as it's one of the best Birthday cards I've received in years. It's a keeper, along with the person who gave the card.

"Finish each day and be done with it. You have done what you could. Some blunders and absurdities have crept in; forget them as soon as you can. Tomorrow is a new day. You shall begin it serenely and with too high a spirit to be encumbered with your old nonsense."

I needed to read this, as I had been very hurt (and I am sure I hurt that person too) by someone I foolishly considered a true friend, and even when I tried to admit my own shortcomings and blunders, this person rubbed my nose in things further. The bad part is, this type of behavior had happened previously with this same person, and I really thought she had changed. Sadly, she has not. What she thinks is a "change" is merely the same neurotic behavior repeated again.

It hurt to feel duped, yet again, and to be cast off so easily, for no real reason other than I spoke up and said, "why did you make this comment? It really hurt my feelings." From there, it just went downhill. Nasty barbs sent back and forth. Some assertions I didn't even understand, really. After reading a little about Narcissistic behavior characteristics, I realize that I am the ultimate target for a Narcissist. It stands to reason that I would be attracted to that type of person, since my own mother has many Narcissist traits.

I'm certainly not saying I don't have my own issues and shortcomings. I am the first one to admit to my "blunders" and "absurdities," but I really thought this friendship was a true friendship.That's where I went wrong. Past behavior is always an indication of future behavior, unless someone has been truly willing to do the painful work needed to make themselves whole.

It was made very evident that this person does not wish to change, and is not interested in getting help anytime soon. On my part, this sort of incident has happened before with this person, and I only have myself to blame for allowing it to happen again.

At any rate, this new friend totally understood my dilemma and hurt. The quote by Emerson is one that I will hang on my mirror so I can read it every day.

Susan and I ended up going back to this new friend's place, after we ate, and we had the best time making fun of Nancy Grace!!! What a great way to spend a birthday!!!

Some doors close and others open. I'll try not to be encumbered by my own nonsense, but isn't it all about ME anyway?

Heh!

The Best Thanksgiving I've ever had

2007-11-22T17:13:00.000-08:00

Every year, I dread going to "The Barbara's" (my mother, or Smother as I call her) home for Thanksgiving, or having one of those "Ordinary People" moments when she is over here for Thanksgiving.

Last year, we invited her over since it seemed she felt forlorned because neither of my brothers or their wives had invited she and my step-father over for gorging on turkey, etc.

She did what I refer to as a 'drive-by' Thanksgiving. She insisted on making everything, even though we wanted to do it ourselves, and then when they got here, she acted like she wanted to leave 5 minutes after they arrived.

It was making me so nervous that I felt I needed a "Lexapro IV Drip," with IV pole included, to drag around with me, while she fluttered about acting like she couldn't wait to leave.

Actually, it was in such fast motion, it reminded me of the Benny Hill Show, when "Yakety Sax" is played in the background and everything is in fast motion.

I found myself wanting to scream out, like Timothy Hutton did in Ordinary People, "Just take the GD PICTURE!!!"

Let me just say that incident, last year, made me realize that it was time for Susan and I to have our own Thanksgiving traditions.

This year, we joined a new church--Trinity UMC in Atlanta--and they have a women and children's shelter, for women who are in transition and need a place to stay until they can get back on their feet.

Weeks ago our church emailed saying that they needed a Thanksgiving Day meal to be prepared for the women in the shelter. It was a no-brainer, this year, for Susan and I to not only volunteer to cook, but to actually serve the women there as well.

Let me tell you that this was the first stress-free Thanksgiving I've had in years.

We had so much fun cooking for the women. I made Paula Deen's flat-line inducing mashed potatoes (God Bless you Paula Deen from one chubby chick to another!), with heavy cream, sour cream, butter, butter, butter, shallots, crumbled bacon....you get the picture.

Susan made her fabulous collard greens and the other members of our small congregation graciously stepped up to the plate and added the turkey, ham, sweet potatoes, green beans, macaroni and cheese.

When we got there early, the ladies were ready to eat! It was fantastic. We both enjoyed being able to serve them a hearty Thanksgiving feast, and when we sat down with them, we had the best time. These ladies are in a hard space, but they all had such sweet spirits about them.

Over and over, each woman came to us, hugged us and said "Thank you...you are angels," over and over. As Susan can attest to, I am certainly no angel, and this was the least we could do (I felt anyway). I told them, "Well, you are angels yourselves. We have enjoyed meeting all of you very much."

To the surprise of the ladies, and the woman that runs the program at Trinity, we cleaned up after the meal. Dishes, etc. They kept trying to help and we kept saying, "No, this is your day to relax, so Happy Thanksgiving."

Hands down, it was the best Thanksgiving I've had in ages. Susan said it was for her too. They are a great group of ladies down there, and I look forward to volunteering more often down there.

We've decided that this will be our new "tradition" at Thanksgiving. It actually felt good not to feel so bloated after eating too much, as we often do when we go to my mom's or to friends to eat.

It just felt good focusing on other people, instead of gorging and falling asleep.

I wish a very happy Thanksgiving to everyone reading this blog, and I hope the coming year brings peace, happiness and health to you all.

Things to be thankful for today

2007-11-09T21:57:00.000-08:00

I am thankful that I am not Karl Rove...

He was the closing speaker at the National Association of Convenience Stores (NACS) convention, which I had to cover for one of my clients.

It's ironic that Rove is out of a job, and speaking at this convention. Maybe he can work at one of 7-11's new "Quick-E-Marts," modeled after the one in The Simpsons. I kid you not about that. What an ingenious marketing plan to partner with Fox and The Simpsons.

Anyway, I fear "Baby Huey" Rove would steal most of the "Big Gulps" himself, and blame it on the Indian guy.

I forced myself to sit through his speech, and it was really nauseating. He is such a liar--blatant liar--but he had that crowd in the palm of his hand.

Let's see if I can encapsulate what he said here:

--The Democrats fettered away all of the Social Security surplus, so that's why your son or daughter won't have anything when they retire.
--The Democrats aren't serious about terrorism, Iran, and they are to blame for the lowest ratings as a congress in the past 20 years.
--Iran is a threat and we must shut them down.
--Dubya really "cares" about the soldiers.
--The Democrats want to steal the small businessman's money.

Hmm, the last time I looked, Rove was no longer working for Dubya, but gosh darn, he sure sounds like he is still on the payroll.

I so wanted to yell out "VALERIE PLAME" over and over, but since I was representing my client, I thought better of it.

One brave woman--the rest were men who were putting Hillary Clinton down, etc.--stood up and asked Mr. Rove if he thought, in retrospect, that the UN should handle and be the governing body that decides who we attack, if we should attack, and why we seem to be such an isolationist country now.

Boy Wonder shot that one down like Cheney on a deer hunt!

"The UN is not effective in managing anything like that...I mean, come on, they allow CUBA to have a seat and vote."

I believe I was the only one that laughed out loud, for a different reason of course, than all of the rest of the crowd.

I am sooo thankful that I am not Rove. Thank You God!

I am thankful for friends

My good friend, Andrea, had a hysterectomy two days ago, and she came out of it just fine. I went through this in 2005, so I was able to tell her that she cannot lift anything heavy, including children, and that she needs to take it easy, even when she feels like she can jog the Peachtree Road Race.

I'm happy that she made it through and her pain will subside now.

Tonight, we went to dinner with a couple that we met through Susan's OurSong choir. They were hilarious, sweet, and very positive to be around, period. And the best part is that they picked up the tab!!!

We didn't expect it, but they wanted to thank us both for helping with the OurSong yard sale, and I think that's the nicest thing that someone has done for us in a long time.

I am thankful for more work

I got that third client!!! Met him at NACS, and he didn't flinch over my rate per word. If I do a great job for him, this could be a repeat client indefinitely.

I am thankful for FREE SCHWAG!!

I picked up so much free 'stuff' from NACS. T-shirts, key chains, autographed pictures of Playboy Bunnies (don't tell Susan! ha ha), Hooters Energy Drink (that, in and of itself, made my day).

I am thankful that I am not one of Nancy Grace's new twins

Because I fear she's going to name one Orenthal and the other James, whether they are boys or girls, or one is going to be named Trenton and the other one Duckett.

On that sarcastic note, I will finish this post.

Ever feel like this?--Human Tetris

2007-11-04T15:29:00.000-08:00

This is, hands down, one of the funniest clips I have ever seen. As well, it certainly represents the stresses of life.

I felt like this over the last few weeks, as I have had multiple deadlines--emphasis on dead.

Add to that, a misunderstanding with a friend, which was aggravated by my lack of sleep, and it's just been fun, fun, fun lately!

The one good thing is that I am about to get another client (fingers crossed), and this client should be one that needs me every year for an annual convention magazine. Another is that my partner and I had a great weekend with some folks from her choir. We helped out with their yard sale, and it was so much fun. Great group of people. If you are in the Atlanta area, check out OurSong Altanta

Talented, funny folks, as I found out this weekend.

I hope for the few gallant return readers, you will continue to check-in from time to time. I am trying to keep the blog updated. I plan on writing a few posts this week.

Thanks for hanging in there and for visiting here.

Enjoy this video.

Good Night, Sleep tight and pleasant dreams to you

2007-09-29T13:22:00.000-07:00

Who has been keeping up with the Anglican mess?

It seems the 'conservative' side is in a twitter, and it seems that they are finally going to take their toys and go home!!!

Father Jake explains it for you, me and everybody else, much better than I can.

GOODY! It's about time. Please, please, don't let the door hit you on your arse on the way out!!!

I hope that all sides of this issue will now move on. If the schismatics are really pulling out and moving on (ah, just like a man, right?), then I hope they will shut up, build their mega-Pentecostal-charismatic-PowerPoint presentation-hands-in-the-air churches, and leave the rest of the Anglicans alone.

It's too bad that every one cannot worship together, period.

With that said, I will leave you with an uplifting ditty from the show, whose ending is embedded into my psyche. Every Sunday night, when I stayed with my grandparents every summer, we'd watch Lawrence Welk.

Don't get me started on my nightmares about Guy and Rawlna...

Anyway, I think this positive, uplifting, polyester clad song, says it all about the Akinola Bunch finally LEAVING!!!

(tapping microphone) Hey, is this thing on?

2007-08-28T08:14:00.000-07:00

I figure if Mother Theresa can bare her true soul about not having faith, then so can I here.

Does anyone actually read this blog?

It says 0 on my site meter, since August 19th. That number sort of signifies what I am feeling at the moment.

Over two years ago, I met a really interesting writer. We met via a writing board on mediabistro.com. She had recently moved to Atlanta from Philly, and she didn't know many people here, etc. She liked my whacked out sense of humor, and I hers.

She sent me the e-bay listing for the Virgin Mary on Toast, and I knew I had found a kindred spirit. We met, once, after many false starts, and I really, really loved hanging out with her. We laughed a lot, over Sushi.

Well, this writer was feeling rather insecure, as well, about her own writing. She was working on a book about a bordello in Chicago, at the turn of the century. That piqued my interest. Her literary agent kept putting her off, concerning the book, which lead to much angst for my erstwhile writing comrade.

So much so, that she sent me two sample chapters to read, to get my opinion. That's always a tricky thing with me, because what if it is truly crappola? How do you tell someone it's crap? I have a knack for spotting true talent. I have always been able to do so.

I'll listen to a singer or a band, way before they make it big, and I'll know that they will be the next best thing. Or, in the case of David Sedaris, I knew he was going to be big, right when he first started out. I sent him a letter to his address in NYC, and I still have the postcard he sent back to me, from he and his partner's place in France. It was hilarious.

Anyway, back to the Chicago bordello story.

I anticipated the chapters, and when I received them, I began to read, fully expecting it to be not-so-good.

It was quite the opposite. I was completely hooked, after two chapters. The prose crackled, which is hard to do, sometimes, when you are writing non-fiction. To me, only Doris Kearns Goodwin, David McCullough and David Hallberstam(R.I.P.), have truly been able to make historical non-fiction exciting.

So, I wrote back to my new writer 'pal' and told her that I knew that the book would be published and that she had nothing to worry about at all.

We planned to get together over and over, however, I would wait to hear from her on the day we were meeting for lunch, and she never called or emailed.

I would take the lead in emailing to find out what happened, and I would get an apology email about 'something coming up,' etc. I can deal with that excuse a couple of times, but after that, I have no patience with that sort of stuff.

So, the last time it happened--getting stood up--I just decided that I'm too old for games like that. I let it go, and went on with life.

Finally, she emailed me, with her apology, and begging me to let her have another chance. I decided not to do that, as at that point I felt like Charlie Brown and she was Lucy, holding the football in place.

I told her that I thought she was a fantastic writer, that her novel would be published, but I can't get into the whole, "Let's have lunch....oops, I'm going to stand you up," stuff. She wrote back, saying something about how she has issues, etc. We all do.

Her book did get published, and it is now on the NY Times Best Seller list. I wondered if I should even email her, but I felt good that I had spotted the talent and that the book was as good as I thought it would be.

She told me I was a funny writer, etc., but it's interesting that she's written for publications that I wish would even let me write classified ads.

So, a few months back, I received my Oxford American magazine, and this issue was devoted to up-and-coming southern writers. Lo and behold, there's a brief story on a friend from my high school. Natasha Trethewey was (and still is) a gorgeous, gorgeous girl, who embodied that rare combo of inner and outer beauty.

As well, she was so damn smart. We worked on the school newspaper together, and I would make her laugh a lot. It was always fun to see her laugh really hard.

I was a year ahead of her, and when I went to college, I heard disturbing news that her mother's husband--Natasha's stepfather--murdered her mother. She was 19, I believe.

Anyway, Natasha is a respected poet, who has written about slavery, New Orleans, Katrina, etc. To top it off, she won the 2007 Pulitzer for Poetry.

How do I keep getting together with, or knowing such writers, but yet I can't seem to write worth a damn?

Sounds a bit selfish, I know, but I'm going to be 42 in November, and all I can seem to get published are second-rate articles, for second-rate trade journals, etc.

I can't even get Creative Loafing--every Journalism student, who graduates, writes for CL right out of college--to even respond to my queries.

I worked a research job at The Atlanta Business Chronicle, around Thanksgiving/Christmas last year, talked to the managing editor about writing for them. She was completely for it. Then, suddenly, I never heard back from her and when I inquired, she said she wasn't interested.

So, I thought I'd start blogging, just to give myself an outlet, but I don't even think these posts are even compelling enough to keep anyone reading.

Don't get me wrong. I am so happy for both of these writers. It's just that I'm approaching middle-age, and I've struggled and looked for any open door, when it comes to my writing, and it just doesn't happen for me.

That either means I completely suck as a writer, or that my lot in this life is to be a mediocre hack.

It's painful for me--no matter how selfish and vain it sounds--to watch all of this and know that no matter how hard I try, I'm just not a good writer.

It doesn't take talent to write about a petroleum and convenience store expo, which I am headed to today, in Macon. Any monkey can do it

Speaking of monkeys...

Right now I really feel the after-effects of the monkey eating my five dollars, so long ago.

Both of the writers I have written about here will be at the Decatur Book Festival this weekend. I haven't decided if I am going to go or not. On one hand, I want to cheer them on and give Natasha a big hug, but on the other hand, I have this feeling that I'm going to shatter into tiny little pieces after seeing them.

Maybe it's time to just realize that I'm meant to stay in the shadows of others. Maybe I'm the Willie Loman of writers, period.

What was the great line that his wife angrily says in his defense? "Attention MUST be paid."

Even better--I feel like John Kennedy Toole right now. In many ways, my life has mirrored his. If you don't know who he is, look him up.

He was a brilliant and funny writer, who won a Pulitzer only after he shot and killed himself. He shot and killed himself, because an editor told him that his book wasn't any good, etc. He died thinking he was just a hack.

Irony, irony, irony.

Not that I would even consider suicide, however I understand the feelings. Oddly enough, the character I most identify with is Miles from the film, "Sideways."

I think the screenwriter sums it what I feel like, in this scene. It's brilliant, and I yelled out "YES" in the theatre when this scene was shown:

Miles Raymond: Well, the world doesn't give a shit what I have to say. I'm not necessary. Had. I'm so insignificant I can't even kill myself.
Jack: Miles, what the hell is that supposed to mean?
Miles Raymond: Come on, man. You know. Hemingway, Sexton, Plath, Woolf. You can't kill yourself before you're even published.
Jack: What about the guy who wrote Confederacy of Dunces? He killed himself before he was published. Look how famous he is.
Miles Raymond: Thanks.
Jack: Just don't give up, alright? You're gonna make it.
Miles Raymond: Half my life is over and I have nothing to show for it. Nothing. I'am thumbprint on the window of a skyscraper. I'm a smudge of excrement on a tissue surging out to sea with a million tons of raw sewage.
Jack: See? Right there. Just what you just said. That is beautiful. 'A smudge of excrement... surging out to sea.'
Miles Raymond: Yeah.
Jack: I could never write that.
Miles Raymond: Neither could I, actually. I think it's Bukowsky.

Classic.

Well, I'm off to Macon for my exciting assignment!!!

Pain is Pain is Pain

2007-08-20T19:33:00.000-07:00

I haven’t written in a while, because I’ve been working on never-ending deadlines and re-writes.

For all of my writing efforts alone, I feel I should get an honorary Pulitzer, but writing about government mandates for convenience stores, and/or new guidelines for credit card processors isn’t exciting stuff. However, it does pay the bills.

Recently, I posted about my best friend in high school and her first boyfriend. Her first boyfriend was in a terrible car accident and lost two of his children in the wreck.

As well, the other driver lost children in their car, too. You can read my post about it down below.

Well, after I posted, I received quite a few responses, all sending out good vibes and prayers for Joe, and all involved.

And then I received a very different comment, for my approval.

I wasn’t really prepared for it, I guess, but in retrospect, I’m glad I received it, as it made me think about pain, true pain, and the ramifications and facets of that state of being that most of us spend our lives running from.

It was from the ex-brother-in-law of Joe, who happens to be named Joe. I couldn’t have asked for a more Bergman-esque scenario, right?

He was very upset with me, because he felt I white washed the actual situation, got my facts wrong (which I did) concerning the accident, but more than anything else he wanted to let me know that the “Joe” that I knew so many years ago, was not the angelic, grieving father that he feels that I portrayed him with my post.

Honestly, I didn’t think I did that at all. I haven’t see Joe G in over 25 + years, to be quite honest, but the wreck was horrible for all involved, period, so I wanted to get the word out for prayer.

But I didn’t see it from the other Joe’s standpoint. From where he sits, the pain and anger is overwhelming, and, to him, the anger is for good reason.

At first, I emailed and told him that I wasn’t going to post his angry words about Joe G., because I didn’t think this blog was the place to do so. I don’t really know any of the folks involved; period, and I couldn’t understand his anger at someone who was simply posting what she was told by someone else. No matter what, Joe G is the father of those children that died, and he was injured himself.

I corresponded with the other Joe via email and tried to explain that to him, while respecting his own anger and pain—both are so valid, period.

But I just received another email from him, the other day, and as I read his words, I realized that, in many ways, so many people seem to be rallying around Joe G., and some have forgotten that a mother lost her two children, too.

And here was her brother gallantly stepping up for her, and letting me know that she exists and she hurts, too, on so many levels. I can only tell you that I wish I had a brother like him, as my two brothers wouldn’t know if I left the face of the earth, nor would they care too much, I think.

With that said, I’m still not going to post the exact words here—for legal liability reasons—but I do believe in writing something. I hold no bias in this situation, but this stands to remind me how much pain can be inflicted by one human to another, and how many layers there are to pain and suffering.

So, I am going to ask that all those who came here and posted for Joe, also remember the children’s mother, Carolyn, in a big way, along with Joe M’s family. It’s seems their journey with pain started way before the accident.

Joe M.? I hope you are reading this, and thank you for teaching me about listening and hearing someone else.

First of all, I got my facts wrong.

The other driver was a 21 year-old-male, who was not related to the woman and children killed in their car.

Apparently, from what Joe M said, Joe G was not returning from Disney World, as I had been told by my old friend, but he had sent the kids over to his sister’s home, so he could work that day.

He was late meeting his ex-wife to drop off the kids, and thus how the timing happened for the accident.

Joe M wrote and told me that the divorce happened over two years ago, and, let’s just say it has not been a pleasant experience for both sides, but from Joe M’s experience, his sister has been through a living hell before the accident and after. I believe him.

Joe M wanted me to know that. I do know that now, but what I really got from his words was that this terrible accident has added yet another layer of pain for Carolyn, Joe M., and the rest of their family.

It also reminds me that divorce is such an ugly thing, period. My parents divorced, rather acrimoniously as well, when I was 30. I can tell you that it hurt me just as much as it would have hurt me if I had been a kid when it happened.

I’m reminded of two verses from the Bible, which really rang out to me as I contemplated this post. Trust me, this usually does not happen with me. I am not one to quote Bible scripture, because I grew up in the Southern Baptist church, where the bible was used as a ramrod, but since I’ve heard from Joe M., I have felt very compelled to ask God what can I do about this situation. It’s really horrible from every angle, period.

As I meditated on it, these two verses came to mind and would not leave my mind, until I wrote them down. So, for what it is worth, here they are.

Matthew 5:45: (Amplified Bible) To show that you are the children of your Father Who is in heaven; for He makes His sun rise on the wicked and on the good, and makes the rain fall upon the upright and the wrongdoers [alike].

The other is:

Luke 12: 52-53:For from now on in one house there will be five divided [among themselves], three against two and two against three.

They will be divided, father against son and son against father, mother against daughter and daughter against mother, mother-in-law against her daughter-in-law and daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law.

I will leave it to those who read this post, to interpret the verses as they see fit. Right now, pain is palpable and real on both sides of this terrible accident, period. The way pain manifests itself, whether in messy child custody visit issues, or insensitive and petty actions at the funeral of innocent children, nobody is immune to grief, anger and pain.

It’s what we do with those emotions that truly matter, for we will not understand things like the painful divorce, the accident and it’s aftermath, until we can ask God, face-to-face.

Joe M did say that Joe and Carolyn's surviving son, David, is back in school and healing. I thought I would pass that on.

Peace be with you, Carolyn and Joe M. and your family as you begin to heal and move on. Thank you to everyone who posted prayers and good wishes, previously.

Song for the week: Quality of Mercy

2007-08-19T19:32:00.000-07:00

Quality Of Mercy - Michelle Shocked

All you hypocrites and liars
In the temple seeking gain
All you senators and lawyers
With your motives to explain
All you victims and heroes
Your petitions to complain
All you murderers and martyrs
On the fields where you lay slain

On the just and unjust alike it doth rain
And the quality of mercy is not strained
Vengeance and revenge are just two words for pain
And the quality of mercy is not strained

Did not I crucify my Lord
Did not I bind Him in chains
Did not I three times betray Him
Three times deny His name
Did not I cast the first stone
And then justify the blame
Did not He die for my sins
But never would I do the same

I've been three times a sinner and two times a saint
And the quality of mercy is not strained
Love, if it's love, is changing but unchanged
And the quality of mercy is not strained

Now, listen to the song

Walk it Out...

2007-07-23T17:19:00.000-07:00

This is so great.

You've got Fosse, Gwen Verdon dancing to Fosse, with "Walk It Out" in the background. I love it.

Positive energy, prayers, smoke signals, whatever

2007-07-16T10:49:00.000-07:00

At the end of last week, I received an email from one of my best friends from church, when I was growing up.

The news was stunning.

Her first boyfriend, Joe Gargiulo, became a good friend to me at the time, as we were all going to the same church.

When Joe and Kathi broke up, I didn't see much of Joe anymore. At any rate, Kathi and I barely keep in touch, as we have such different lives. It almost seems like a whole other life that I lived then. She's been married for years, with two kids who are almost adults, but sometimes it feels like just yesterday that we were wearing our mother's wigs, teasing them into beehives, putting on lots of makeup, stuffing our bras, and, looking like a more grotesque version of Tammy Faye Bakker in her heyday, simply to go and play Putt Putt, like we looked normal.

The looks we would get were priceless, let me tell you.

Anyway, we keep in touch at Christmas, etc. But I was not prepared for the news she sent to me.

Last weekend, there was a terrible wreck on I-85, near Atlanta. I remember hearing about it on the news. A Chevy Impala, carrying two kids and two adults, crossed the median and slammed into a van, head on.

It was Joe's van that got slammed head on. There was nothing he could have done to prevent the accident, according to the police.

Two of his children were immediately killed upon impact, even though they were wearing seat belts. His other son was injured, as was Joe. Two children in the other car were killed, too. I just read an article, which I will link here, which lists the driver's name, the children's names, as well.

Kathi told me that Joe was in the midst of a very painful divorce, and he was driving his children back to their mother's house, after taking the kids to Walt Disney World.

According to Kathi, Joe had been very, very depressed over the break-up. The two children were buried on Saturday, but Joe could not attend, as he is in ICU.

I cannot imagine what he and his estranged wife are going to go through. As well, what will the surviving son feel and go through in the coming weeks, months, years. Even more tragic, is the fact that driver of the offending auto was a 21-year-old girl.

It reminds me of the verse from the Bible, 'On the just and unjust, alike it doth rain, and the quality of mercy is not strained.'

I normally would not do this on my blog, but I am going to ask anyone reading this post to put down what you are doing, and just send a prayer or a good vibe to Joe and his family. As well, prayers for the Stephens family, and for the girl driving. Their pain is just beginning.

Whatever, or whoever you believe in, please send positive energy Joe's way, and to the Stephens family.

I'll keep you posted on Joe's progress. I am not sure he'll even remember me, but I plan on going to see him, when he is able, and to let him know that he can talk to me anytime.

As I was going to the bank this morning---I got my first 2,000 dollar check for my writing--I was listening to Bridge Over Troubled Water on an Elvis CD that I have. It really made me think about Joe.

These are the times when I have no idea why God allows these things to happen. The only way I can even rationalize it is that God gives us all free will, so that means everyone has it. Some people use it for good, some for evil, some make mistakes--they think the young girl driving fell asleep at the wheel--and God could come down and stop anything, but God doesn't do that.

He lets us choose our behaviors, and the outcome is determined by the chosen behavior, but He's always there no matter what.

That's why you won't find me saying to Joe, "It was God's will...." because I don't believe it was God's will. I believe it was a series of events, a chain of mistakes, that led to the accident. I have to believe that, because if I don't, then I cannot fathom a God that would purposely take away the lives of children in such a manner.

If there is anyone out there in blog-land, reading this post, who has lost children in a car accident, etc. please post and let me know what to say and what not to say to Joe, whenever I get the chance.

Thanks to everyone who will read this.

Here's the Article I found from Connecticut, where the two Stephens children resided

I've Grown Accustomed to her Blog

2007-07-16T07:41:00.000-07:00

I don't know what has come over me, or who has come over me, as I feel that I am in sort of trance-like state.

Ever since 'she' ragged about my partner, in a very condescending and nasty way, on her blog, I have felt compelled to read her blog almost every day. Is this part of my anxiety disorder??

It first started as a way to give back the same caustic medicine she doles out to anyone that doesn't jibe with her rigid religious beliefs.

In the beginning, I referred to her as 'it' or Bigmoose, as it seemed a fitting retort to her name calling. Even though I really detested her narrow thinking, I was like a moth to her snide flame.

But as I read her long odes to Chesterton, or when she intimated that I might be like Cotton on the show, "King of the Hill," I started to wonder what she might look like. Actually, the Cotton thing was pretty funny. Oddly, I do picture her looking like a cross between Joann Worley and Peggy Hill

I started to wonder what happened to this woman, with such a high IQ, and how she ended up staying at home with her three children. No, there is nothing wrong with raising one's children as a profession, as it is one of the noblest and thankless professions. It's just that I sense that there is so much more to this woman that simply being a homemaker.

Rarely do I agree with her theories, postulates, or thinking patterns in general, but she is a fine writer.

As well, her knowledge of silent films is phenomenal. I really did not like this woman, after seeing for myself how she skewers anyone who isn't just like her in beliefs--mainly religious--and I left some posts, using the same tactics that she uses in her own posting.

However, when you put a mirror up to someone, they either get that their behavior is irrational and hurtful, or they run crying to their comrades, "Look how MEAN the liberal is to me!!" She engaged in the latter, and I was chastised as 'vile' by simply pointing out the obvious about her daily routines.

I was told that I made fun of her autistic children. I did not make fun of them at all, nor would I ever do that. I did point out her fondness in speaking about her children defecating on the floor, as well as pondering why one would try for a third child, if the first two had Autism. As well, I just gave her a dose of her own medicine, as she routinely picks apart those liberals that seem to so rankle her, for just being liberal.

Was it too harsh? I don't know, but I publicly apologize (her group of witch hunters always love it when a liberal apologizes, so they can pick it apart and decide whether it's a real apology or not).

Why would I continue to return to her blog? I have no idea. I know she reads my comments, and she allows me to post them, but she refuses to respond. As well, I'm sure the email chain letter has gone out, which tells others not to respond to me as well. I think it's funny. Actually, I think she's probably a very nice person, somewhere underneath the fear and sarcasm.

But, as I read her odd posts, there is just something that keeps me coming back. Maybe it's the fact that she must really hate it that we have so much in common. We really do. Well, I am not in love with the same dead author--she is in love with G.K. Chesterton--but we actually like the same TV shows, books, etc.

It's an odd attraction and fondness I now have for her, sort of like watching a train wreck happen right in front of you. You have to look, even if you might not want to, deep down in your soul.

I must say that I agree with Dr. Alice--Alice, please post a comment, as I see you have been visiting my blog as of late--I think 'she' is a better linguist than I am.

So, I must write this song for her, borrowing from Lerner and Loewe's "My Fair Lady" show stopper, "I've Grown Accustomed to her Face"

Of course, it's all tongue in cheek.

So, this is for that multi-talented Catholic Curmudgeon, who is 16 times the writer I am:

I've Grown Accustomed to her Blog

Damn! Damn! Damn! Damn!
I've grown accustomed to her blog.
She almost makes my stomach churn.
I've grown accustomed to the anti ECUSA tune
that she whistles night and noon.
Her smiles, her frowns,
How Chesterton brings her up when she's down
Are second nature to me now;
Like trapping gas in and then, just letting it out.
I was serenely independent and content before we met;
Surely I could always be that way again-
And yet
I've grown accustomed to her screeds;
Accustomed to her sarcasm;
Accustomed to her blog.

[Spoken]
Become a anti-US Anglican CATHOLIC?
What an infantile idea. What a heartless,
wicked, brainless thing to do. But she'll regret, she'll
regret it. It's doomed before they even take the vow!

[Sung]
I can see her now, Mrs. Anti TEC
In a wretched little flat above a store.
I can see her now, not a penny in the till,
And a bill collector beating at the door.
She'll try to teach the things I taught her,
And end up picking up poop instead.
Begging for her bread and water,
While her husband has his breakfast in bed.

In a year, or so, when she get sick of talking about the gays
And the blossom in her cheek has turned to chalk.
She'll come home, and lo, he'll have upped and run away
With a hockey-playing bimbo from Quebec.
Poor Mrs. Anti-TEC. How simply frightful!
How humiliating! How delightful!

How poignant it'll be on that inevitable night
When she hammers on my door in tears and rags.
Miserable and lonely, repentant and contrite.
Will I take her in or hurl her to the walls?
Give her kindness or the treatment she deserves?
Will I take her back or throw the baggage out?

But I'm a most forgiving person;
The sort who never could, ever would,
Take a position and staunchly never budge.
A most forgiving person.
But, I shall never take her back,
If she were even crawling on her knees.
Let her promise to atone;
Let her shiver, let her moan;
I'll slam the door and let the hell-cat freeze!

[Sung]
But I'm so used to hear her say
"CHESTERTON" ev'ry day.
Her joys, her woes,
Her highs, her lows,
Are second nature to me now;
Like keeping gas out and breathing in.
I'm very grateful she's a bigot
And so easy to forget;
Rather like a habit
One can always break-
And yet,
I've grown accustomed to the trace
Of something in the air;
Accustomed to her blog.

Sometimes, Life is Good

2007-07-12T17:44:00.000-07:00

Yes, for the few folks still bothering to come here, can you believe that I would be saying that?

Better living through chemistry is what I say.

Well, partly chemistry, partly listening to what God is trying to say. I'm not good at the "listening" thing at times, just ask Suzer!

As I posted previously, I had a major panic attack at the last on site job I took--mostly out of fear--and quit.

After dealing with debilitating anxiety levels for years, I finally took the advice of my doctor and tried a little pill called Lexapro.

I'm only taking a small amount, every night, but according to Suzer, it's made a difference. At times, I feel it wouldn't matter, because I still freak out about time. I have to get to a venue at least thirty minutes before any show, or I start getting nervous.

Susan is quite different. She is happy to get to a venue maybe 5 or 10 minutes beforehand. Can you see the 'wacky fun' that ensues with those two thought patterns?

She says the difference is that before I started taking Lexapro, I would argue with her at why my anxiety was legitimate, and that my thinking patterns were perfectly okay. Now, when she says, "honey, don't worry about it. I really think it's going to be okay," I actually say, "okay, you are right," and instead of obsessing over whatever the cause for worry was for maybe like 8 hours, I now have it down to about 1-2.

See? Progress!

Add to a new chemical makeup inside my pointed little head, is reaching out and listening to God.

Donna is my neighbor. When I first moved in with Susan, she was one of the first persons I met here. I don't know how, exactly, we started talking, but we did. I think I made a copy of a cd for her, and we started talking about music.

She knew so many of the artists--mainly 50's and 60's folk, blues, rock n' roll artists--that I enjoyed, that it was really fun to speak with her.

Then, she started telling me about how she knew Pete Seeger, that Pete Seeger wrote music to her lyrics. She spoke as if it was all no big deal, but my mouth dropped, when she brought out a cadre of letters written to her, from Pete.

As well, she started telling me how she dated Mac Davis, how she saw Brooke Benton, Otis Redding, Ike and Tina Turner, perform, live, in the Atlanta area, way back when. It's when she opined about the Rev. Gary Davis and Ernie Marrs that I perked up. I had heard about both, briefly, but she actually KNEW them.

Every time she would mention someone, I would say, YES, I LOVE THEM TOO!! Well, after I had quit the job from hell, I sort of retreated. Yes, my brief "Howard Hughes" existence. Only Susan would not allow my toenails to curl like old Howard's toenails.

I had decided that I needed to start walking every morning, as it would benefit my physical health and my emotional health. I went down to give Donna a cd I had made for her, and she didn't look well.

I asked her how she was doing, and she confided in me that she was feeling very depressed. At that moment, I knew that I was supposed to be there and I was supposed to listen and offer support.

That's what I did, and it turned out we had a lot in common concerning our families of origin, abuse, etc. I was able to tell her about my panic attack, and how I just didn't think I could ever work in a corporate setting again.

It turns out that Donna felt the same way, and that's why she works from home. So, we both decided to start walking together in the morning, and we've been doing so for the past couple of months or so.

I've learned a lot about her and from her in the brief time we have been walking, and it's good to know that I'm not alone in what I deal with, at times. She has done so many interesting things in her life, and she's so funny. I hope she will take my advice and write a book.

We have started a "Hermits Day Out," as of today. We are going to try and go out to lunch, or do something fun, once a week, since we both work out of our homes.

I consider it a blessing that I met and got to know Donna when I did. I needed her and she needed me, also.

Oh yeah, I guess I should write that a former freelance client of mine contacted me about an on-going writing project for his company.

He asked me to give him a price on a retainer fee, so I calculated one for him and with great trepidation, sent it to him. He didn't balk at all. It's a good amount of money per month. I am truly grateful, as it allows me to continue being my own boss, plus he pays on time!!!

The other blessing is that Susan and I finally found a church that we both feel comfortable with, and we both feel at home.

It's a small Methodist congregation in downtown Atlanta. They are the only reconciling church in Georgia and, I believe, in Atlanta. Since the first time we visited, over a month ago, we felt so welcomed by everyone there.

The pastor is low key, and says what she believes, period. No pretense, no politics, just the truth. It's such a diverse congregation, and one of the elders took us out to eat lunch last week, after the service.

She is 73, black, and very outspoken.

She was one of the very first people we met there, and I just instantly liked her. As we found out at lunch, she has had such an interesting life as well. Engineering degree from U. of Iowa, was in the Army, etc.

But what I really appreciated from her was her honesty about how she struggled, internally, after the church decided to become a reconciling church.

She blatantly told us both that she really had a problem with it at first. It really bothered her, but she said she prayed fervently about it, and she said, "God told me not to worry about it, and to go about the business of doing His will."

I appreciated her candor, and I told her I totally understood her feelings. She said what helped to change her was the fact that she had been married to a white man, and she and her husband had a business near Morehouse College for years. She explained that many of the students there were customers.

In the early 1990's, after the first Rodney King verdict, Atlanta went insane. I was working at Turner Broadcasting at the time, and after the verdict was read, riots broke out all over the country, and Atlanta was no exception.

Turner's great wisdom was to keep us locked inside the CNN premises as long as possible, which would have been fine, but then they decided to let us go right at the height of the rioting, right outside of the building.

I remember riding in the car with my boss, as I had taken our rapid transit to work, and being stuck in this long line of traffic trying to get out of downtown. All we heard was breaking glass, cussing, screaming, and people being beaten.

Thank God my boss had an old ,beat up Toyota, as I think the gang that passed us by took a look at the car and figured they would do us a favor by catching it on fire, so it wasn't something they wanted to do.

I make light of it, but it was scary.

Well, it turns out that the lady we had lunch with got caught in that maelstrom too. She said the students that had been repeat customers in their business, looted it and beat up her husband, because he was white, and because they were angry.

She said that is what God pointed out to her, concerning her feelings about being part of a reconciling church.

I really appreciated her candor. She said that she never invites new people out to lunch, really, but that she was drawn to us for some reason. I really enjoyed the lunch and fellowship.

We've joined the little choir--a choir that sounds fantastic to be so small--and it's just good to be in a place where we can all worship together, and the emphasis is not on our sexual orientation.

Well, back to Donna:

She's a fantastic graphic artist, and she's created a line of slogans/designs for T-shirts. Some of them are really funny, others are just really cool, period.

Hey, take a look and give her some business: Donna's T-shirts

make custom gifts at Zazzle

David Chase Sleeps with the Fishes!!!

2007-06-10T20:03:00.000-07:00

All I can say is that was the worst finale I have EVER seen, and some Sopranos fans may find it a fitting way to end--or not end--the show, but I think it was a very smug snub by David Chase to those fans who have waited over a freakin' YEAR for each season.

Like everyone else, I thought my cable went out right at the end, however it seems it was a deliberate 'fade to black,' that looked as if the cameraman didn't load enough stock into the camera.

So we are left to ponder whether the mysterious dude, who went to the bathroom in the greasy spoon where the Soprano clan decided to meet, was going to come out shooting. I truly thought it was a tip-of-the-hat scene to The Godfather, when Michael goes to the bathroom to find his 'piece' and he comes out and calmly shoots Sterling Hayden right between the eyes, drops the gun and walks out.

And what up with Meadow and the re-parking? So Chase is truly a control freak, as he still wants to control the whole damn thing and leave us wondering forever whether Meadow only views her families massacre, or whether the greasy spoon blows up, or whether life just goes on for Carmella, Tony, AJ and Meadow.

What about the Russian guys that Christopher and Paulie chased, or the whole mistaken identity killing of the Ukrainian guy that looked like Phil?

I don't think this 'no ending' ending is revolutionary or some sign of Chase as an artiste. I think it is a disservice to the loyal fans of the show.

Those of us who have watched from the start are 'Made' into the Soprano clan. When someone disses a 'Made' man (or woman), retribution is an option.

Does anyone have Tony Sirico's (Paulie) number?

Speaking of other sopranos and 'Tonys'....

At least Christine Ebersole and Mary Louise Wilson won Tony Awards for their respective performances in the musical, Grey Gardens. I think Big Edie and Little Edie are looking down and very happy for the wins.

Much Ado About Rosie...

2007-05-24T07:15:00.000-07:00

Since I have been working from home in the past couple of months, I must admit I've gotten addicted to watching the first few minutes of "The View."

Actually, I've always enjoyed the comedy and commentary of Joy Behar, but the rest of the ever revolving Yentas remind me of why so many people believe the stereotype that woman cannot work together without fighting for power, etc. As well, it was a bland show, in my opinion.

Enter Rosie O'Donnell.

Most people either really like her or really loathe her. I really like her. I am not saying I always agree with everything she says, but everything about her is real, period.

Is she sometimes hot headed? Sure. Is she in your face with her bluntness? Yes. But why aren't these things lauded in the press?

What is it about an overweight woman, who speaks her mind, gets her opinion across and sails her own ship that seems to intimidate so many?

Donald Trump speaks his mind, gets his opinion across and sails his own ship. He engages in all kinds of not-so-nice behavior in his work and personal life. But he's worshiped as if every word that he utters is manna from heaven.

Rosie has been pummeled continuously since she had her show. I can recall being on AOL, years ago, and on the Gay and Lesbian boards she would be picked apart, daily, for not coming out of the closet.

Some of the nastiest comments I ever read came from her own "peeps." Many times, the word "big" or "fat" would come before any comment about her. It was awful and so hypocritical for the GLBT community to be demanding that this woman--an entertainer--come out of the closet, just because it was demanded.

I referred to them as "Lesbigay Nazis." Rosie would periodically appear on the boards to confront some of the bullies, who would always back down and try to kiss her ass afterwards. She was having none of it.

Then, she got her hair cut short and the most vile things were said about her, concerning her haircut and her weight. It's not just one time. It's all the time.

I'm not sure I could withstand what she's been able to withstand, without wanting to cry at times. What it says, to me, is that it's acceptable to speak your mind, have a strong personality and strong beliefs, be tough in business, as long as you are a skinny blond with big tits, or if you are male.

Did you ever see a fat chick on "The Apprentice?" Fat men? Sure. There were several chubby and sort of fat guys on "The Apprentice," but not one woman that was even slightly overweight.

That makes Rosie's feud with Donald Trump all the more interesting. I think it's spot on and hilarious that Rosie revealed the hypocrisy of Trump. Worse was that I expected Trump to go after her with epithets about her weight and lesbianism, etc.

It's so typical. Hey, I'm not saying that Rosie didn't really step in it by her comments about Trump, but it would be interesting if it had been Elizabeth Hasselbeck who made the comments about Trump. Somehow I don't see Trump referring to her as a "skinny bitch" or what not.

Rosie has single-handedly taken a bland and banal show and turned it into something thought provoking, just by being herself. Like I said, I've always loved Joy, but Joy was sometimes muted out. With Rosie, she's shown her fire and passion for her political beliefs and both women have done a good job of letting the public know the other side of the "Iraq" situation.

Both have done what mainstream news outlets should be doing.

But here's the best part of Rosie's time on "The View":

Her interactions with Elizabeth Hasselbeck.

What's interesting is the dynamic there. Rosie has no problem speaking her mind, with great conviction, and most of her comments are spot on. She's a middle class girl from Long Island, for God's sake!! She's going to speak her mind, no matter if you like it or not.

What I notice with Elizabeth is her youth and her attempts to come across as relevant and informed. Her body language shows someone that is easily intimidated, and someone who feels muted by the other ladies on the show. I would probably feel the same way with such strong personalities as Rosie and Joy.

Watching her reminds me of how I was when I was around 18 or 19. I parroted the views of my parents, and I dare say that I actually voted for Ronald Reagan when I voted for the first time in my life.

Every time Lizzie tries to "stand up" and voice the Conservative "View," she falls flat because instead of reading the whole book on any political topic she's discussing, she reads the "Cliffs Notes," given to her by Fox News, Bill O'Reilly, Sean Hannity, mommy and daddy, hubby, or whomever.

It's so apparent that she is spewing rhetoric, period. And she just starts talking louder, and with this false sense of bravado, when she gets stuck by a pointed question from Long Island Rosie.

Frankly, whether I agreed with her viewpoint or not, I think I'd have to be restrained so I wouldn't just go over and start screaming "STUPID ROBOT" over and over again, until she cried. It would not take very long, either. She's that irritating.

See, if you want to throw someone in with a conservative viewpoint, to match Rosie, then call Ann Coulter. Now, that would be something to watch, because Coulter is no dummy. I can't stand her views, but she is the total opposite of Rosie, period, and she is very well informed.

The latest row with Lizzie and Rosie was so surreal. Not on Rosie's part, but on Lizzie's part. For once, Rosie was trying NOT to get into the conversation that Joy brought up. Joy was right on for bringing up all of President Dumbass' impeachable exploits, and if you care to watch the video recap of the fight, Lizzie starts getting red in the face, before Joy even finishes the list.

Once it got to the level of screaming between Lizzie and Rosie, Lizzie had no idea what in the world she was saying. Rosie's face says it all, as she looked stunned and bewildered.

Both of them totally missed Joy's point. More print space and on-air time are given to Rosie and her supposed feuds and fights, than many of the issues Joy and Rosie bring up on the show.

I'm giving it space here on my blog, but it's because culturally and socially I think the whole Rosie phenomenon is symbolic right now. This administration would rather have all eyes on Rosie and her fights with Elizabeth, than to have the media truly reporting on what is going on in Iraq, Washington, etc.

Rosie knows it too, but I could tell that she just could not allow Lizzie to keep spewing inane comments. It would be hard for me not to just get into Lizzie's face, and invade her personal space, just to watch her face turn red.

It would be different if she truly had a grasp on the issues and could coherently debate her view. She doesn't. It's evident.

Rosie NEVER said or even insinuated that she thinks our troops are terrorists. It NEVER happened, period.

I, for one, am going to miss Rosie and I am sure I will not watch The View that much after she's gone.

Like I said, I don't always agree with Rosie, but I will tell you this: I'd rather have her in my corner, as a friend, any day, over Lizzie. Rosie is the kind of person who, once you are her friend, she takes it seriously. I get that. I'm sure she's not the easiest person to get along with, at times, but aren't we all?

I recall a song that really reminds me of Elizabeth, and I'm going to write to Rosie and tell her to listen to it over and over, until her time is up on The View.

Actually, it sort of describes George Bush and politics in general.

You Don't Know Lyrics

(Cyndi Lauper, Jan Pulsford)
You don't know where you belong
You should be more careful
As you follow blindly along ...
You just need to belong somehow.

Relying on rhetoric ...
Not well versed on topics ...
Any idea what you're talking about ?
Revisions of history
Fair well in some company
But don't shove that bullshit down my throat

You don't know where you belong ...
You should be more careful
As you follow blindly along ...
To find something to swear to ...
Till you don't know what's right from wrong
You just need to belong somehow.

Left suppresses right
Right suppresses left
So what's the left, and what's right ?
You're told what to wear,
You're told what to like
I'd be nice if you'd think for yourself sometime,
But you don't.

Now you don't know where you belong ...
You should be more careful
As you follow blindly along ...

Mix sheer hypocrisy with mediocrity
You'll play it safe every time -
So life turns up empty
And you're so dissatisfied
Who are you blaming this time ?
Don't you know ?

Thank you, Rosie, for speaking up and out about the troops, 9/11, and for putting yourself out there, period.

Rock On!

Anyway

2007-04-10T10:48:00.000-07:00

Hello all. Is anyone still bothering to read my blog? It's been quite a while, and, as usual, there have been so many things going on in my life, that I haven't had the courage or inclination to spill my guts here for all to see.

But maybe it's time for a little spillage, eh?

For the first time since 1994, I started having really awful anxiety/panic attacks. I really do not know why, except for the fact that I started working on site again--something I never wanted to do again, but beggars cannot be choosers.

You would think at my age that I would stop making decisions based on emotion, and that I would listen to what my gut told me about certain situations. However, when one hasn't had a new client in over a year, and the money starts to dwindle, a certain feast or famine mentality ensues.

Bluntly, I accepted a job that did not meet my salary expectations and that I had real reservations about, because I was panicking about money.

When I went on the interview, the woman I would be working for seemed very pleasant, however she and the HR person seemed very unprofessional during the interview. Other interviewees were brought up, and denigrating comments were made about them, and it looked like I would be the oldest person working there. Most are/were in their 20's. What really bugs me, although it happens quite a bit these days, is that I was immediately asked what my salary expectations were for this position.

I don't like playing my hand that early in an interview.

Needless to say, I was iffy after I left the interview. As well, I was given an application to fill out and the company wanted me to go back over eight years or more!! I have worked, primarily, as a contractor for the last 10 years, so to make me have to go back that long and see if any of my contacts/references were still around was a lot of work.

Of course, I was asked to list my salary at each job, which is something I really abhor because it's usually asked in order to low ball on salary negotiations and I just see no reason for having to cough that information up. But I dutifully did it, reservations and all.

I was offered the job, and I took it without any salary negotiation because, well, I needed the job. From the first day, I started to get that tight feeling in my chest but I attributed it to first day jitters, etc.

As the days progressed, nothing got better. This is a very modern and 'open' environment, so you have absolutely no privacy whatsoever. Any and everyone can listen to your phone conversations, or any of your conversations in general. What bothered me more was that I was given a 'test' on my first day there. No joke. It was some hour long test. It just sort of bugged me. I mean, I figured I passed the 'test' by the fact that I was hired for the position, which was nothing like I was told it would be in the interview.

Basically, what I thought was a Senior Research position, turned out to be nothing more than a glorified telemarketer. Nothing wrong with that position, but it's not what I signed on for at all. I was asked to tell 'white lies' concerning what the company did, when I called potential contacts and clients and asked for their job title, email address, etc. I didn't feel comfortable about that at all, nor did I feel comfortable being watched and listened to, when I spoke over the phone. I felt like I was in high school again.

Add to the mix, it was such an 'open' environment, that employees were allowed to bring their pets to work. I love animals, especially dogs, but I don't want to watch or hear a Golden Retriever run through the office, barking its lungs out, as I am trying to get information from a client that really doesn't want to give it up and has no real idea why I am asking he/she for that information.

I was starting to really loathe getting up in the morning, and I started to have that 'fight or flight' feeling when I went to work. Don't get me wrong; the people there seemed nice enough, but it just seemed very unprofessional to me. The lack of privacy was really hard for me, coming from working alone, independently, from my home.

Then came "Miss Awe-SUMM"...

She was the manager over the 'confirmation callers,' which I wasn't a part of, but they sat right next to me.

It's obvious that she went to some management empowerment retreat, or something, because she constantly praised the confirmation callers, even if they just showed up for work. Everything was "Awe-SUMM," as she declared, sounding like Tori Spelling from a 90210 repeat, and she would repeat that lovely phrase ad nauseam along with "You ROCK!!!"

Now, hearing that oft used euphemism once or twice is tolerable--taking anti nausea medication helps, too--but having to hear it every single day, up to 15-25 times per day is enough to drive Dr. Spock to beat a child.

The cacophony of barking dogs, "Miss Awe-SUMMM," along with having SIRIUS Satellite Music piped in, usually on the Rap or Funk channels just added to the ambiance.

It went something like this:

dogs barking
"Awe-SUMM....YOU ROCK"
"F*&K YOU MUTHA F*&KER"

I kid you not.

I will spare you the "Afterschool Special" dramatics that resulted in my panic attack, but needless to say, I could not take it anymore and I just wigged out. I just got up, sent an email to my boss, and walked out.

I felt like I had to walk out. I felt compelled, as if something really bad was going to happen, if I didn't get out of there. I felt like I was under attack in some way. This was a feeling I had not had since 1994, but it was back and worse than it had been, previously.

It felt like I was going crazy. Maybe I was. I couldn't breathe, my back was tight, and I have no idea how I drove home.

After I got home, I felt miserable. I felt like I had let my partner down, myself down, and that I was just nuts.

Since then, I have realized that this, indeed, was a huge panic/anxiety attack and that there are many folks who suffer with this malady. All I can tell you is that it really, well, is not "Awe-SUMM" at all.

I have no idea why I am spilling my guts about this here, but maybe it's cathartic. I have been really embarrassed to even discuss the fact that I deal with anxiety issues, coupled with depression at times, and I was embarrassed that I left that job because of anxiety.

It wasn't the perfect job. I didn't like it, but it was a job. In many ways, I guess it wasn't a bad decision, because soon after, Susan's grandmother died and she needed me to go with her to the funeral. We didn't make it to the funeral, as we got snowed in at Winchester, VA, but she needed me to be there for her.

As well, one of our cats--Ollie--had a cancerous tumor that was removed, today, and he will need someone here during the day. I guess I am learning that I worked for so long from home that I prefer working at home, and I just have to find a way to get more clients, so I can pay my bills.

This Easter was special to me, also, as I felt the love of Jesus upon me, and I realized that Jesus died on that cross for all of my pain and all of my sins. He already paid the price for any and everything I ever do in this life. As well, His promise is steadfast, all we have to do is accept it and not worry. It's so simple, yet it is so hard at times to do that.

My anxiety gets the best of me.

I worry that I will not find new clients.

I worry that I will have to file for bankruptcy.

I worry that my 'stuff' will push my partner away.

I worry that I'm not good enough to worship God.

I worry that I'll never reach my dreams.

I worry that those that constantly tell me that I will go to hell for being gay are actually right.

I worry about my mother, who is losing her memory.

I worry about my friends.

I worry about the troops in Iraq.

I worry about the state of religion and the church in this country.

I worry about our government.

I worry about global warming.

I worry about what kind of world will this be when my nieces and nephews grow up.

Yet, Christ paid the ultimate price, so I would no longer have to worry. I just have to have faith, period.

So, I try to have faith that I will overcome this setback and that I will continue on. With a little help from Lexapro, the anxiety is lessening, but I'm still dealing with chronic pain issues and other health issues.

If anyone reading is going through the same thing, maybe you won't feel so alone.

I'm big on singers and songwriters, and Martina McBride is a favorite. She's releasing a new song today, entitled "Anyway." After I heard the song, I was in tears. It's exactly what I needed to hear, and I think all of us need to hear it.

Anyway
Martina McBride/Brad Warren/Brett Warren (BMI)

You can spend your whole life buildin'
Somethin' from nothin'
One storm can come and blow it all away
Build it anyway

You can chase a dream
That seems so out of reach
And you know it might not ever come your way
Dream it anyway

(Chorus)
God is great, but sometimes life ain't good
When I pray it doesn't always turn out like I think it should
But I do it anyway
I do it anyway

This world's gone crazy and it's hard to believe
That tomorrow will be better than today
Believe it anyway
You can love someone with all your heart
For all the right reasons
And in a moment they can choose to walk away
Love 'em anyway

(Repeat Chorus)

You can pour your soul out singin'
A song you believe in
That tomorrow they'll forget you ever sang
Sing it anyway
Yeah sing it anyway

I sing
I dream
I love anyway

© 2006 Delemmava Music Publishing (BMI) © 2006 Bucky and Clyde Music adm by L’ile Des Auteurs Music / L’ile Des Auteurs Music (BMI). All Rights Reserved. Used By Permission.

"The Doodle-Ooh-Doo-Doo-Kid" Dies at 73

2007-01-25T11:29:00.000-08:00

While I was in NYC, a real country legend passed away. I didn't bother to watch television, or read much in NY, and most of what jammed the airwaves and print was the death of James Brown.

James Brown deserves a post, or several posts, but I want to spotlight a very underrated country performer, who epitomized the quintessential country troubadour of the 1960's. More reserved in dress than Porter Wagoner, he had the pompadour, the slick clothes and the persona of a 'Dean Martin' of the Grand Ole' Opry set.

Del Reeves.

Known as the 'king of twang,' Reeves was a really great crooner, wrote some great songs, and seemed to be having a helluva good time doing it.

He got his title of "The Doodle-Ooh-Doo-Doo Kid" based on one his first and more popular novelty songs called, "The Girl on the Billboard," It's a vocal intro--and sometimes a coda--that he used in that song and many others.

Popular with truckers, he carved a popular niche with songs directed to those guys riding the highways, with nothing but the radio--usually country music radio--as a companion. I remember him from watching his show, "Del Reeves' Country Carnival."

From my dysfunctional memories, it was sandwiched somewhere between Hee Haw and Porter and Dolly.

One of his biggest hits was a trucker song, "Lookin' 'at the World through the Windshield." But I actually like "This Must be the Bottom," as I can really relate at times, and "Nothing to Write Home About." These are classic country songs, and much better than the CRAP that passes for 'country music' these days.

I only knew a little bit about him, but I love his singing. However, I found out that he retired from recording and began producing others. He was responsible for finding and signing Billy Ray Cyrus, etc. in his later years. I'm not sure, really, if that was a good thing for the recording public or not, however the guy knew a hit when he heard one.

Oddly, he died on the same day that Hank Williams, Sr. died and Townes Van Zandt. To me, that says quite a bit.

Take a look at what I found on YouTube!!! Both, "This Must be the Bottom" and "Nothing to Write Home About." Check out his Dean Martin-esque tone and manner in "Nothing to Write Home About," and, check out the clothes!

A member of the Grand Ole' Opry since 1966, he will be missed.

New York City, Grey Gardens and Die Zauberflöte

2007-01-24T12:35:00.000-08:00

I've been feeding my obsessive-compulsive need to figure out why some people are so bent on hating others, for the sake of hating out of mutual bias and fear, so I apologize for not updating this blog with anything other than trying to 'out-bully' bullies. I will write more on that, and a further explanation concerning my Mensa Genius post, etc. However, I have been remiss in not reporting about my trip to New York City.

For those who know me personally, you know I've always wanted to see NYC. Well, I finally made it.

This year, Susan and I saved our pennies and headed for NYC over the holidays. It was spectacular for me, for many reasons.

Even the cab ride from Penn Station out to Astoria was an E-ticket ride!! I closed my eyes a few times, as our driver zipped through the streets of Manhattan over the Queensborough Bridge. There is no way I could drive through Manhattan.

I was like a proverbial kid in a candy store, once we got settled in at Susan's cousin's apartment in Astoria, Queens.

Astoria is primarily Greek, however after 9/11 many Manhattan-ites lost their jobs and needed to find cheaper rents. Now, the neighborhoods have an eclectic mix of the old world and new, and both seem to live together nicely with each other.

There are no words to describe the smells in this little neighborhood just above Ditmars--the last stop on the N Train going Uptown and to the Bronx. The spices from the Gyro Lamb and Souvlaki waft through the air, from family owned 'joints' where everybody really does know your name.

I had the best Gyro platter at the family run Greek diner right across from the apartment, on our arrival. Matter of fact, I didn't have one bad meal during our entire stay. Frankie's Pizza in Astoria: Yo! Frankie! It was the BEST; Red Circle Thai Restaurant was superb. Nichellos in Manhattan, for Northern Italian cuisine at its finest--the meals were so light, yet so delicious.

But the best, for me, was Broadway Joe's Steakhouse. Not only did I have one of the best petite Filet Mignon in my life (yes, it was like 'buttah'), but I was sitting in a restaurant that's been seen in several motion pictures. Shirley Maclaine sashayed down the front stairs, in the opening of the film version of "Sweet Charity," and several television dramas and films have shot interiors in the restaurant. The food was out of this world.

When those same double doors let me off at 42nd Street, and I walked from the Subway platform out into the open air, I felt like I was at home. I cannot describe it, but I felt a creative energy that I have never felt anywhere else. Everyone seems to have the same energy, as they briskly walk by, but I had the feeling that only those living on this island know its 'secret' and I was obliged to try and find it for myself.

I was in awe over the Christmas windows at Macys, as I have heard about them but I've never seen them in person.

Don't even get me started on Time Square. The buildings bathed in Neon were definitely a conduit for the synergy that seemed to emanate down every street.

No doubt, I took the touristy pictures at Times Square, Herald Square, 42nd Street, Broadway, but I also visited a building that has a lot of meaning for me: The Brill Building.

Knowing that most of Pop music during the late 50's through the 1960's originated within the offices of that building was exciting to me, as I lined up to take my shot of its facade. We're talking Carole King, Gerry Goffin, Phil Spector producing the Ronnettes, etc., Ellie Greenwich/Jeff Barry, Barry Mann/Cynthia Weil, Neil Diamond, Neil Sedaka, Burt Bacharach/ Hal David, Doc Pomus/Mort Shuman, etc. It's an important building for anyone interested in the history of popular music. The building housed several musical publishing companies, as well.

Architectually speaking, I was also in heaven. The Public Library was magnificent inside and out. What a truly beautiful place to study, research, etc.

Grand Central Station was another gem, and I wish we had taken the time to go on a guided tour, but just watching the people go by and snapping a few good pictures sufficed.

So much to say about the musical, Grey Gardens. For anyone that remembers the Maysales Brothers' documentary on Jackie Kennedy's eccentric aunt and first cousin, Edith 'Big Edie' Bouvier Beale and "Little Edie," her daughter, then you know that mother and daughter co-dependently existed, and let their family home in New York go to ruin.

I wanted to see this musical, out of a curiosity concerning just how they were going to take that documentary and forge a musical from it.

It was brilliant.

The first act has actress Christine Ebersole playing the role of Big Edie during their heyday in the 1940s. Second act has Christine playing the role of Little Edie and Mary Louise Wilson as the aged Big Edie.

The second act will blow you away, and both Ebersole and Wilson are a perfect team. We met Ms. Ebersole after the show and she was such a delight.

If you get to NYC anytime soon, make sure you see this musical. Ebersole should be nominated and win the Tony this year.

http://www.greygardensthemusical.com/

But I'd have to say the peace de resistance was seeing Julie Taymor's production of Die Zauberflöte at The Met/Lincoln Center.

Papageno is one of my favorite opera characters, and I had heard a version of this with Maria Callas as the Queen several years ago, but nothing prepared me for the brilliance of this staged version.

One is either a huge Taymor fan or one isn't. I wasn't sure how she was going to put her stamp on Mozart, and I wondered how the whole 'puppet' thing would work, without seeming like some sort of bad parody of Taymor's other work, but it was really spectacular.

Once you've heard someone of Callas' calibre sing the Queen of the Night F note aria , it's hard to find anyone who matches that pitch. But the diva belting it out, this time--Cornelia Goetz--came pretty close. The sets were gorgeous and fit the Masonic theme quite well.

Take a look for yourselves:

PBS is showing Die Zauberflöte tonight, January 24, so check it out. You will not be sorry. I am glad we got to see it live!

Oh, so much more to discuss about New York City! I'll save it for Part II.

The Mensa Award goes to...

2007-01-05T07:05:00.000-08:00

Dr. Alice! (hearing applause)

Oh, this is priceless. Dr. Alice forgot to put that pill under her tongue this morning, to calm her down.

Here is part of her Mensa Award-winning comment on Cuckoo for Ko-Ko Puffs' blog:

Well, to put it bluntly, it's because your partner is f***ing stupid. Want me to draw you a diagram? I'll be happy to. The owner of this blog is too polite to state it in such terms, but I, having read your partner's blog, have no such reservations. Not to mention the fact that your partner appears to be unwilling to publish any dissenting opinions (I should know, since I have tried to post such on her blog), but Dr. Mabuse is willing to do so given that she has let your posts stand.

I so pray for her husband, if she has one. Can you imagine having to listen to that mouth all day? I bet her diagram would involve fecal matter in some way.

Imagine what her patients have to deal with, also. Yes, most intelligent folks resort to cursing to get their point across, right?

Yes, she is so brilliant that she obviously thinks that some other person she currently stalks is my partner. Um, one can check IP addresses to know and distinguish one obsession from the other.

Oh, I'm going to really have to check this one out.

I have a lawyer friend that can let me know whether she's been brought up on any ethics charges as a physician.

Gee, why do I feel that might be true? When/if I get the dirt, I'll be more than happy to post it. That's one physician that I would stay away from at all costs.

She might cut off your f***ing feet if she f***ing felt like it.

I'm so impressed by her genius that I'm going to start copying her colorful vernacular:

I suspect she's a f***ing Crappy Poopie Head doctor!! (sticking tongue out)

Remember, Dr. Mabuse is 16 times (not 15, not 10, but 16) the writer I am. I triple dog dare her to say that again, Crappy Poopie Head doctor!

Okay, I promise to return to other topics. I'm just having too much fun with this.

Dr. Alice in "Braxton's Lear": This is very sweet

2007-01-04T19:07:00.000-08:00

Below is a copy of the dramatic comment left on this very blog today! I guess she's one of the four that still read it.

Well, to be honest, I haven't posted in over a month. Too much going on. However, over the holidays, I went to New York City and had a few minutes to catch up on my blog reading. I will be posting about my trip to the big, bad, LIBERAL city, but this was on my mind tonight.

Cuckoo for Ko-Ko-Puffs was at it again, so I felt the urge (sort of like the one you have, after eating too much Thai food) to relieve myself on her blog. See, she has an obsession with Anglicans, lesbians, bowel movements, Liberal Anglicans who obsess about bowel movements, etc., and now I am obsessed with her blog.

Apparently, her 'friend' was upset with me for what I posted. How sweet that Dr. Mabuse's 'special friend' would take the time to defend her honor on my very own blog!

Please check out the very, dare I say, 'passionate' defense below from a Dr. Alice:

Gee. Whiz. You blog about the evils of random vitriol tossing on the internet, yet do such a lovely job of it yourself. For what it's worth, She (who-apparently-must-not-be-named) is, at a random estimate, is at least sixteen times the writer you are. And your partner is a sucky writer too (I say this after having viewed her blog multiple times). To be more specific, if one were to logically take apart the arguments of conservative Anglicans/Episcopalians I have no doubt that one could put together at least a coherent case for doing so; but no one, least of all your partner, has been successful in this attempt. She merely resorts to the whiny "oh-my-God-I-can't-believe-he/she-is-saying-this" retort--which impresses no one. You would do her a favor, I believe, by gently conveying this to her. Peace.Out.

Isn't that cute? One is named Dr. Mabuse and the other Dr. Alice. I so sense the repressed lesbian passion in the above missive. That's just my biased, liberal, lesbian opinion.

Dr. Alice needed to defend her 'friend.' And, gee, I'm a 'sucky writer.' Wow, someone that uses such a, well, succinct vernacular telling me that I am a 'sucky writer.'

What shall I do now? Well, McDonalds is always hiring.

I asked my partner if she had any idea of what this person was blathering about and she had no idea.

But isn't it interesting that this one also admits to obsessively reading the blog of an Anglican LESBIAN! (Victorian gasp) I wonder why that is??

Oddly, Dr. Alice's blog is filled with vitriol, but see it's okay for her--and others-- to have vitriol for Liberals. That's quite okay and acceptable, and they don't consider it vitriol. It's only when you respond to them with the same ugliness that they deem you such a devil.

I truly hope they will be happy together! I guess Dr. Alice is the butch one in the hush-hush relationship. Who knows?

I just have a good mind to go to her blog and call her a "Sucky Doctor." Yeah! That'll get her. But my partner and I just hope they both come out of the closet, so we can invite them over for dinner and illicit lesbian group sex. That's what all liberal, anti-Christ lesbians do in their spare time!!!

We'll be back to regular programming momentarily. Thanks for your patience.

As the brilliant doctor said:

Peace Out!

Random Musings for the day

2006-11-20T19:43:00.000-08:00

I haven't posted in ages, mainly because I have been really busy, however there is much to catch up with, concerning politics, religion, etc.

First off, I have a restrained optimism over the Democrats bulldozing of the Fourth Reich (to see a different take on using the whole Nazi allusion, check out Terry Carroll's Unrepentant Idealist, where he calls the Democrats Nazis for the pro-choice 'baby killing' stance. I love Terry, but we went head to toe on this issue. Either way, he brings up many valid points).

I'm glad the overwhelming votes for Democrats, across the U.S., was like a tazer gun sending a high voltage jolt straight into the crotches of Cheney, Bush and Rumsfeld, and I am pleased to see Nancy Pelosi make it to the position she's been waiting for, over the years. Given the elitist gaffes that the splintered party has made over the past eight years, I certainly hope that they take the power that they have and use it for good and not evil. Pelosi choosing Murtha was not a good start, but let's hope that it was just a shaky beginning to a glorious reign.

Let's not screw it up for 2008. I say work and work fast, balls-to-the-wall style, to counteract everything that this dimwitted, lying mama's boy, along with his father's advisors, have done to this country, the Constitution and Habeas Corpus.

In Georgia, nothing changed. Sonny "Mah Flag" Perdue easily won, because the status quo of Georgia is stable and, more importantly, because of the porcine antics of Mark Taylor.

First of all, even I didn't want to vote for Mark Taylor. The guy looks like he's one KFC meal away from needing the paddles applied to his large chest. What is it about the South, especially, that we love our male politicians big, fat, and redneck, but if a hefty WOMAN dared to run for office, that would be the first thing she'd be attacked for, or pummeled into the ground with nasty political ads alluding to her weight.

Mark Taylor is HUGE, and Bubba Perdue looks like he belongs in Sanford Stadium, every week, telling off the UGA team, and eating Varsity chilidogs.

Back to Mark Taylor. Every word he said about Sonny Perdue was right. Sonny's shady land deals cost Georgia taxpayers millions, and ruined nature conservation to the core. But Mark's attacks were really nasty, and he took the first swing. Here in Georgia, little old Southern ladies-who-lunch don't like it when a proper Southern gentleman like Taylor attacks an incumbent "Guv-nah" of the great state of Georgia.

Purdue did that "aw shucks" act, every time Taylor hit him in the gut with the truth, and he already had a cadre of television ads to combat Taylor, even before Taylor lobbed the first verbal volley across the net.

What's interesting is the Marietta Daily Journal—Marietta is a very conservative city, in which I happen to abide—wrote a scathing editorial about the seriousness of Perdue's land dealings. It's not that these things did not go un-noticed. It's that the cult of personality won out, yet again. Taylor came across as angry and shrill, and Perdue spent most of his debate time combating Taylor's assertions.

Actually, the Libertarian candidate was the usual breath of fresh air, pointing out how both Perdue and Taylor were not even touching the real issues that affect Georgians.

As usual, status quo won out.

Losing my religion

25 years ago, Norman Lear—television producer and creator of such shows as All in the Family, Maude, Good Times, etc.—got sick and tired of flipping his television dial and watching evangelical pastors who were basically telling their congregation and viewing audience how to think, politically. Better yet, he realized that these TV wranglers were telling folks that they were "Good Christians" if they voted or thought one way, and "Bad Christians" if they voted and thought in another way.

From that, Lear created People for the American Way, a watchdog organization for we progressives and dare I say, "Liberals."

Norman Lear single-handedly changed the way we view television, and All in the Family taught me more about politics, religion and the separation of Church and State, tolerance for all, than any civics class I took in school. I grew up with men like Archie Bunker in my own family, and what was discussed between Meathead, Gloria, Archie and Edith, many times while sitting around the family dinner table, were real issues that many families argued about in this country. It's amazing that All in the Family even made it on the airwaves when it did. I am not so sure it would work in 2006, except for a possible run on HBO.

The work Lear continues to do with PFAW is very much needed and appreciated in these days of robbing of the Constitution, advocating torture, and the movement of this country toward a theocracy.

Check them out.

People for the American Way

After growing up in such a right wing, conservative and narrow-minded institute such as the Southern Baptist Church, I grew to really dislike organized religion in general. The version of God that I had, while growing up, was one of tyrannical judge, who was more interested in catching me making a mistake, than in showing me that this world was created so we could enjoy it, not live in fear of eternal damnation 24/7.

Wasn't that the point of Christ's dying on the cross? So we may live eternal lives, free from the fear of burning in hell?

As of late, I have truly felt like I lost my religion. I don't mind attending any church, but I truly do not need any man-made institution and its dogma trying to tell me how I think is wrong, how I vote may be wrong, or telling me who is 'bad' or who is 'good.' Once men and women get involved in trying to figure out what the world's creator thinks, or what the world's creator really meant by the words in the Bible, you are in for big trouble.

This point was hammered home when I watched the film, "Pleasantville" yesterday. I had seen snippets of it over the years, but I had never watched the whole thing from start to finish. Though it completely hands you the obvious, concerning freedom of thought, speech, etc., it's a great beginner film for understanding the pitfalls of being a reactionary, or being under the rule of a fascist or totalitarian regime.

But given all that is written above, I still have no problem with attending church per se, just not a reactionary, narrow-minded church. Hard to find one that isn't in Georgia, but my partner grew up Episcopal and so did my mother. It trips me out that my mother grew up Episcopal and gave it all up for my dad, who was a Southern Baptist. Recently, she told me how the pastor of the first Baptist church that my parents attended in a tiny south Georgia town, told her that she was not truly a 'Christian' since she was baptized in the Episcopal church.

See, I would have walked right then and there, if I were her.

I still ask her, repeatedly, how she allowed her children to go to a church and practice a religion that spouted forth such prodigious prognostications such as "KISS means Knights in Satan's Service," or told everyone that Christ was going to return by 1983, so give as much money as you can to the church. It boggles my partner's mind that I turned out so liberal, after growing up the way that I did.

That leads me to my new obsession with reading a certain blog. How is that a woman, who left the Episcopal church because of the evil "liberals" who she feels are invading the rest of the moral, upstanding and, oh yes, CONSERVATIVE Episcopalians, converted to Catholicism to escape the moral depravity of the Episcopal Church, but yet she seems to live her life to report on everything Episcopal?

I've posted about her before, and I've dickered with even giving her any more of the pathetic attention she craves, but I almost feel like producing a Zelig-type mockumentary about her.

This is a woman, who is obviously very intelligent, but there is this constant need she has to blast mainline Episcopalians, who happen to agree with the General Convention, or TEC's new Bishop.

She's very, very conservative and she would probably refer to the late Sen. Barry Goldwater as a bed-wetting liberal, but she pumps it up a notch. She goes after those who she feels are ruining "the church" and will spare no time in trying to viscerate them on her blog.

Believing that she is pithy enough to take on the emotionalism, bleeding-heart sentiments of those "rats" she despises, her blog ends up reading like the fanatical rants of someone who believes the Virgin Mary speaks through her salad fork.

I've never seen someone who is so fed up with modern Episcopalianism, who left the church because of what she despises, give an almost Joan Rivers commentary on Episcopal Bishop Katherine Jefferts Schori's Investiture. She spent paragraphs dissecting every movement Schori made, especially a very gay commentary on Schori's choice of vestments.

Despite the inadvertent humor, after doing a little background check on her, it was easy to find out all about her own hypocritical life.

Just simply scanning her own blog archives gave me, a part-time researcher, enough information to find out that this very devout and pious Catholic, who abhors the "evil" she sees within the Episcopal church, also is quite fond of two very well known atheists!

She is quite the fan of magicians Penn and Teller. Hey, I love them too. I think Penn Gillette is brilliant and I love their show, "Bull*&!t" on Showtime. Each week, they take on some fad, religious institution and prove that it's, well, bulls**t. My confusion with this woman is not that she worships Penn and Teller, but that she's so fanatical about her right-wing Catholicism, and so fanatically against the current Episcopal majority, because they are allegedly immoral leftists, who—according to her—promote homosexuality and do not support procreation.

Yet, how can she have such a devotion to two atheists, who are magicians? In the past, her new-found religion would have put them on trial and executed them, for their "magic." In one episode alone, they mocked Mother Theresa to the 10th degree.

So, maybe I don't get it. Maybe I don't get how she can worship Penn and Teller—admitted and proud atheists—even going backstage to meet them and posting all over the Internet about it, but yet she is determined to ridicule and condemn Episcopalians for being Godless.

Her posts are often nasty, comparing liberal Episcopalians to mice or rats—something that Hitler's propaganda machine did for the Jews—and then she'll post about the horrors of Hitler, and how her own, mentally challenged children would have been murdered by Hitler.

I often laugh a lot, when reading her posts. At the same time, her hypocrisy is typical of those who are fanatical about religion in general. But it certainly should be pointed out, for the five people that read and respond to her blog.

She's certainly entertained me. Again, she's a very intelligent, well read individual, who likes many of the same books, films, etc. that I like, however she'd never, ever try to get to know me, because I'm an evil liberal, who is also gay.

I'm single-handedly destroying her family and their way of life, along with the Episcopalians who don't ascribe to her brand of religion.

I can't decide if she reminds me of Sybil's mother, or Carrie White's mother, or a combo of both. I somehow see her sending her daughter into the closet to pray for forgiveness, after her daughter begins to menstruate.

But, following in the steps of the film version of Carrie, I wonder if she'll light a candle to the Virgin Mary or to Penn and Teller?

It's amazing how we humans compartmentalize everything, and then the anger and pain we hold, over some past event, begins to creep out into other areas of our lives. I think this woman deals with a lot of repression and anger.

Take a look at her blog and give her some more traffic!!! It's very funny, only when she doesn't intend to be funny. When she tries for the Ann Coulter effect, it's just boorish.

I've got to go to bed.

Its blog:

Cuckoo for Ko-Ko Puffs

Penn Gillette bio

Also, read a great letter sent to one of the maybe 10 dioceses that believe they represent the majority of Episcopalians, by Bishop Schori. I thought it was excellent and a great rebuke to Cuckoo for Ko-Ko Puffs' rabid ramblings.

A letter from the 'evil one'

One last thought: Maybe I should post on Cuckoo's blog, giving her the link to Babs' STFU song. She needs to hear it.

STFU

2006-10-30T10:20:00.000-08:00

I took on a contract/temp job at a nationally popular business publication in my area, partly for the extra money and partly because I thought it would be a good way to make some editorial contacts, if possible.

Everything is fine with the job, except for the fact that I have to sit in a cubicle--for most freelancers, who are used to working from home, a cubicle is something akin to a cell at Abu Grahib or Gitmo--next to one of the most obnoxious copy editors I have ever encountered.

My experience with copy editors is that they are a necessary evil for writers. Find a good one, and they can take an article that is garbage and transform it into readable copy. Find a bad one, and they become your worst nightmare. I've had copy editors who have actually changed correct grammar into incorrect grammar, or misspelled a name that I spelled correctly.

Given that, I am not working directly with the copy editors at all, but that's the only space they had for me.

From day one, I noticed that one of the copy editors never closes her mouth, period. From the time I arrive into my drab cubicle, until the time I leave, she is constantly running her mouth, getting into people's business, and generally trying to let anyone and everyone know how wonderful she is.

The first day I was there, I ate lunch at my desk. The HR person came by to answer a question for me concerning the login for my computer, and 'Little Miss Wonderful' copy editor had to interrupt my conversation with a 'HEY GIRL, ARE YOU TAKIN ME TO LUNCH TODAY?' scream over the top of my cubicle wall.

HR person sort of grimaces and says back to her, "Um, no, I'm not." She finishes talking to me, and LMW follows her down the hall.

30 seconds later, HR person is back in my cube saying, "Oh, did anyone tell you that you cannot eat lunch at your desk?" My lunch was far gone by the time she came back to tell me that, nor were there remnants of lunch on my desk, but somehow she knew I ate lunch at my desk.

Wonder who told her? Hmm...let me guess.

So, I told her that nobody had said anything about eating at my desk, etc.

Since that time, LMW has done everything possible to get and keep my attention, and feels the need to constantly blather on about her personal life, take cell phone calls from her friends all with this high pitched, fingernails on chalkboard type of voice.

And this is the level of competence as a copy editor that she possesses:

I heard her ask another copy editor, "Is homeowner one or two words?"

When I heard her say that, I felt the same way that I did when I saw the following bumper sticker:

"My Child made the Principle's List at Marbut Elementary School."

I have tried my best to just ignore her and do my job, but it makes it hard when I have to be on the phone a lot tracking down information from people and she's constantly talking very loudly.

Her latest game was to start invading my personal space, by sitting on the edge of my cubicle desk, her boney butt facing me, and carrying on conversations with various other employees almost in my cubicle.

Normally, if I were a full-time employee there, I would not hesitate to have a little discussion with her, but as a temporary employee I am not sure how or if I should handle this problem.

When I continued to ignore her and her boney butt, she finally turned around and said, "I'm in your cube, because I have a bunch of office supplies that I just got in mine, and I don't want these people taking my stuff."

I just looked at her as if she had lost her mind.

Right now, all I want to do is walk into her cube and start screaming "Shut UP..JUST SHUT UP...SHUT UP...SHUT UP...SHUT UP," but I am sure that would have the opposite effect on her.

Anyway, I came across this HILARIOUS mp3 file that sort of sums up my feelings. Leave it to Babs Streisand to confidently say what we all would like to say to someone at some time or another.

This guy turned Babs' response to a heckler during her New York City shows, into a dance remix.

This is fantastic. I so want to just blast this into the next cubicle.

http://www.myspace.com/revolucian

Click on the STFU link in the music player, and enjoy.

We are all one and Waldoms

2006-10-23T21:55:00.000-07:00

Last week, I made my usual trip to Walgreens and little did I know just how much comedy would ensue from picking my thyroid medicine.

First of all, what is up with the marketing genius who decided to name the generic brands of whatever at Walgreens, with the Wal prefix?

Yes, instead of Claritin, it's Walitin. Robitussin is Walitussin, etc. So, just for kicks I asked the pharmacist if they had generic tampons called Walltex, or better yet, what about condoms? Do they have Waldoms? Waljans?

She found it quite amusing.

Well, as I was walking out, I saw a display for Olivia Newton John products, with proceeds going to breast cancer research. Along with her various products, was a new CD from Olivia, which features songs that are meant to affirm one's self.

Since I've been feeling quite shaky, emotionally, and un-affirmed as of late, I thought this cd might be a positive. As well, I have a lot of respect for Olivia, as she beat breast cancer and she's not too bad on the eyes.

For $9.99, I decided to purchase it.

Once in my car, I popped it into the cd player and one of the first songs talked about how all of us are really linked together, and that we are one. I think it's called Strand of Pearls, or Pearls Before Swine, or it was something like that.

Whatever the song, it was making a real impact on me. As I was driving home, I was coming to the realization that we are all connected in one way or another. Either through our joy, pain, etc., the human condition is universal.

Tears were beginning to well inside of me, as I thought about how much I love every single person on this planet, even Charles Manson and George Bush, and how my problems are really a collective primal scream that each of us has at one time or another.

I was finally at peace, knowing that I was in one accord with all of my brothers and sisters. Life was beginning to look really sweet.

Then, I had to slam on my brakes, as the car in the lane next to me suddenly cut in front of me with no signal, going at a high rate of speed. My brakes screeched, and as "Lovely Livvy" was belting out "We are all just one in a string of pearls," I let out my own string of expletives, at the top of my lungs, with my window rolled down.

"You $%*@$ piece of *^%$, learn how to %^@#$% drive!," as I promptly gave him that most Christian of salutes with my middle finger.

Maybe I need to take a Wal-i-pin pill to help with my anxiety issues, because ONJ isn't cutting it.

Galveston, Oh Galveston!

2006-10-12T13:26:00.000-07:00

Jimmy Webb is one of my favorite songwriters (I need to link him in my favorites), and he's been responsible for some of the biggest hits during the 1960s and 70s. He's still kicking, and making more music. I hope to buy his Jimmy Webb Archive + Live soon.

Take a look at his Web site, if you want to know more about him.

http://www.jimmywebb.com/index.html

Here's some of the songs:

"By The Time I Get To Phoenix,”
“Wichita Lineman,”
“Galveston,”
“Where’s The Playground, Susie”
“MacArthur Park,”
“Didn’t We”
“Up, Up and Away,”
“This Is Your Life”
“Worst That Could Happen”
“All I Know”
“Easy For You To Say"
“The Moon’s A Harsh Mistress"

The list goes on. But it took me years, after listening to my dad's Glenn Campbell albums on the HiFi, to realize what the song, "Galveston" really meant.

Now, when I hear it on the radio, or play a Glenn Campbell cd, I stop and really listen to the words.

According to my research, Webb was visiting a beach in Galveston when he wrote the song. He made up the story about a soldier in the Spanish-American war and the girl he left behind.

However, the song was released during the height of The Vietnam War and many considered it an antiwar song.

It's timeless to me, and it could easily be about one of our soldiers in Iraq. The words are powerful, but if you've never heard Campbell sing it, download a copy. The song captures the fear and homesick blues that all of our men and women in Iraq, or in any war zone, probably feel right now.

It really makes me think, given the fact that Habeas Corpus is no more, with Iran and North Korea in our crosshairs, and the scary, scary time this nation is facing.

Enough said.

Galveston
Words and Music by Jimmy Webb

GALVESTON

Galveston, oh Galveston
I still hear your sea winds blowing
I still see her dark eyes glowing
She was twenty-one
When I left Galveston

Galveston, oh Galveston
I still hear your sea waves crashing
While I watch the cannon flashing
And I clean my gun
And I dream of Galveston

I still see her standing by the water
Standing there, looking out to sea
And is she waiting there for me?
On the beach where we used to run

Galveston, oh Galveston
I am so afraid of dying
Before I dry the tears she's crying
Before I see your sea birds flying
In the sun, at Galveston

Speaking of Karma...

2006-10-11T13:09:00.000-07:00

If I had not been made surgically barren, I swear I would offer to bear the progeny of one Mark Morford. Of course, I'd have to stand in line, behind my married friend, Michelle, who turned me onto Mark.

Oh, to be able to write like this! Brilliant stuff.

Enjoy:

http://sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?file=/gate/archive/2006/10/11/notes101106.DTL

What's So Funny Bout' Peace Love and Understanding? Part 2

2006-10-11T12:11:00.000-07:00

Like all of us, I was shocked and a bit worried over North Korea's nuclear test over the weekend.

I'm concerned whenever nuclear weapons are discussed, tested, deployed.

What really gets me, though, is that the US has spent billions of dollars on a war against a country that DID NOT have uranium, or any other WMD, period. Thousands of young men and women killed--on both sides--over a war for OIL. Don't be deluded. It truly is about oil and greed, and less about catching Bin Laden and "tarr-er-ists."

We all know that now. It's not just partisan rhetoric; it's a fact, Jack. In President Bush's press conference today, some of the press corps seemed to finally have a spine a few weeks before the November elections.

He was asked why he dealt with Iraq in one way, and why he's dealing with Iran and North Korea in another way.

His answer was that the US must handle North Korea "diplomatically," with China, Japan and Russia all at the table and contributing to this "diplomacy." China has already made noises that they aren't ready to endorse sanctions, etc.

President Bush kept on his Rove inspired "Diplomacy" line, even when asked if that line finally was crossed, would the US consider military action. Better, he kept referring to this magical decrease in the deficit, right before election time.

He said that every situation is different, so that's why he treated Iraq differently, and why the rhetoric is different with Iran.

Our beloved President swaggered and bloviated over Iraq, wishing not to let the U.N. handle the situation with Iraq, or continue sanctions with Iraq--they were working--which was cutting off vital supplies to his country. That bad part of that tactic, is that Hussein didn't care about whether his people had medical supplies, etc.

But the fact of the matter is that, despite reports to the contrary, we were all told that Iraq was ready and waiting to launch nuclear weapons upon us, or our allies. Also, the information was relayed to the American people that there was a direct link between Hussein, Bin Laden and 9/11. We all know, now, that the information was not true, most of it was made up, and yet nothing is done to this President, concerning the blatant lies.

Where is the moral outrage over this "liar?" Weren't the Republicans rabid over a certain Bill Clinton being a LIAR? And he only lied about kanoodling with some overweight groupie in the Oval Office.

I guess lying in order to protect your financial interests in a foreign country, sending innocent men and women to die makes his lying much different?

Yet, here is a country--North Korea-- with a leader who seems more unbalanced than Hussein, with real capability to possibly launch a missile that could hit California, and a country who just proved that they not only have nukes, that they are ready and willing to use them in an offensive tactic, not defensive.

And the warnings and pleadings about North Korea have been swirling over the past ten years, but really ramped up in the last two.

Is it only me who realizes how funny it is that we invade a country that was really no threat to us at all, spread our troops so thin that National Guard Reservists, who have been inactive for the past ten years, are buckling their belts over their pot bellies, in order to go to Iraq?

And what is "Cowboy Bush's" response to North Korea? Oh, no swagger or tough talk about going after terrorists wherever they may be throughout the globe. Nope. Just a few words about how it's wrong, and that he's going to the leave it to the U.N. to handle North Korea with sanctions, and "Diplomacy."

North Korea is Communist, with actual WMDs, and its leader is flaunting his maniacal power, with a missile aimed right at Japan and the US.

An even more ironic point is that we (The US) introduced the A-bomb to the world, yet we get very offended when any other country dares to develop and use the same weapons we stockpile and test.

At this juncture 8 countries have nuclear capabilities and most are our allies. North Korea is the wild card, in my opinion.

Isn't it odd that suddenly, Bush is all about "Peace, Love and Understanding" when it comes to North Korea?

Well, the press corps sure thought it was odd, finally. I agree.

But, it's time for a song. I do think Elvis Costello's great "What's So Funny 'Bout Peace Love and Understanding," is in order, specifically when I think about Iraq and the ironic change in "Cowboy Bush."

Here's a piece of trivia, however. It wasn't an original Elvis Costello song. It was written by Nick Lowe. Lowe used to produce Elvis and The Attractions.

What's So Funny 'Bout Peace Love and Understanding
By: Nick Lowe

As I walk through
This wicked world
Searchin' for light in the darkness of insanity.

I ask myself
Is all hope lost?
Is there only pain and hatred, and misery?

And each time I feel like this inside,
There's one thing I wanna know:
What's so funny 'bout peace love & understanding? Ohhhh
What's so funny 'bout peace love & understanding?

And as I walked on
Through troubled times
My spirit gets so downhearted sometimes
So where are the strong
And who are the trusted?
And where is the harmony?
Sweet harmony.

'Cause each time I feel it slippin' away, just makes me wanna cry.
What's so funny 'bout peace love & understanding? Ohhhh
What's so funny 'bout peace love & understanding?

So where are the strong?
And who are the trusted?
And where is the harmony?
Sweet harmony.

'Cause each time I feel it slippin' away, just makes me wanna cry.
What's so funny 'bout peace love & understanding? Ohhhh
What's so funny 'bout peace love & understanding? Ohhhh
What's so funny 'bout peace love & understanding?

What's So Funny 'Bout Peace Love and Understanding? Part One

2006-10-10T13:20:00.000-07:00

This post may ramble a bit (what else is new?), but my mind has been jammed with a few tidbits over the past few days.

I posted, previously, about my partner's blogstalker. Enough said on her, as she continues to stealth on the blogs of primarily female, liberal, lesbian Episcopalians.

She's so conservative, she probably thinks Sen. Barry Goldwater was a 'bed-wettin' liberal. Hey, I can respect someone that doesn't feel the same way as I do on issues, but when they resort to hate tactics, it's hard for me to turn the other cheek, unless it's my buttocks' cheek.

Well, call it fascination with the macabre or weird, but I'll go to her blog once in a while, just to see what she's frothing at the mouth over (sorry for the dangling preposition).

Her latest opine-of-the-day is all about Abortion.

You know, that neutral subject that everyone comes together on, holding hands, singing Kum-Bah-Ya?

Guess how she feels about it?

She reminds me of one of those feverish individuals who would actually put a Depends on and crawl up the street, in front of an abortion clinic, crying out, "DON'T KILL ME, MOMMY."

She's the type that I'd like to be driving along and suddenly have a diabetic reaction to my meds, swerve and accidently hit her leg or something. Not completely maim her, of course, but just graze her and have to stop, as the TV newsmen/women hover over me, and she's sprawled out in a huge diaper.

Yep, she's the kind that probably fervently believes in the death penalty, would clap if she heard about an abortion clinic blowing up, or the murder of a physician who carries out the legal procedure.

In theory, I believe in the concept of Pro Choice on the issue of Abortion. This is something that is hard for a lot of people to understand. Personally, I would advocate abortion only in the rarest of instances, but I think it's a necessary evil in this country. How to put controls on it? I really don't have the answer.

Since the same individuals as the Canadian Conservative think that educating teens on ways to prevent pregnancies--condoms, birth control--is of the Devil, and that if we all just told teens, unmarried singles, etc., "Just don't do it, unless you are married" we wouldn't need abortions, it's really hard to have a dialogue with any of them.

Imagine my surprise, when I clicked on a link in one of her abortion diatribes, which led to an equally obnoxious blog (depending on your political-religious leanings), and I actually AGREED with their outrage!

It seems Ms. Magazine is publishing a huge article about women who are coming forth to tell their story, when it comes to having an abortion.

First of all, I understand the need for this article, because state by state, the legal right to have an abortion is falling by the wayside. If this happens, don't believe that magically people will stop having unprotected sex. What will happen is that your sisters, daughters, mothers, etc., will risk dying at the hands of card table "doctors" and we will return to a very dark age in Western society.

Will these individuals, such as the Canadian Conservative Catholic weep over those deaths, also? Probably not.

However, I was really shocked at the comments in this article, just as my conservative counterparts were shocked as well.

http://www.breitbart.com/news/2006/10/03/D8KHAKIO0.html

It's these honest passages that really bothered me. Me; this EVIL LIBERAL.

Tyffine Jones, 27, of Jackson, Miss., said she had no hesitation about signing _ although she lives in a state where restrictions on abortion are tough and all but one abortion clinic has been closed.

Jones said she got an abortion 10 years ago _ enduring harassment from protesters when she entered the clinic _ in order to finish high school. She went on to become the first member of her family to graduate from college, and hopes at some point to attend law school.

"I wanted to do something bigger with myself _ I didn't want to be stopped by anything," she said in a telephone interview.

Another signatory, Debbie Findling of San Francisco, described her difficult decision last year to have an abortion after tests showed that she would bear a son with Down syndrome.

"I felt it was my right to make the decision, but having that right doesn't make the decision any easier," she said. "It was the hardest decision I've ever made."

Findling, 42, is married, with a 5-year-old daughter, and has been trying to get pregnant again while pursuing her career as a philanthropic foundation executive.

She says too many of her allies in the abortion-rights movement tend to minimize, at least publicly, the psychological impact of abortion.

"It's emotionally devastating," she said in a phone interview. "I don't regret my decision _ but I regret having been put in the position to have to make that choice. It's something I'll live with for the rest of my life."

I'm not sure that the intent of Ms. Magazine is really going to resonate with the Vox Populi. I really do not think that this is going to help people change their minds about abortion.

But here I am an "Evil Liberal," and even I am shocked and appalled at the above passage.

Maybe it's the callous way it's stated.

The first woman talks about not wanting anything to stand in her way of going to college and law school, however I didn't read about how the pregnancy happened. If she was old enough to be having sex, she was old enough to use contraception.

Maybe where I differ with most liberals is that I think a woman should know exactly what is happening when she has that abortion. Candy-coat it all that you want, but you are terminating a human life. The jury is still out, for me, as to when that group of cells split and becomes a human embryo, but in essence the doctor is going to vacuum your womb of any traces of that life. If you know that going in, and you've really searched your soul about it, then I still believe that decision is between you and God.

But to have sex, knowingly, without protection and then say "oh whoopsie," after you become pregnant and act as if the abortion is on par with your weekly beauty salon appointment really bothers me.

As well, someone who was actually PLANNING a pregnancy, purposefully gets pregnant, but the child isn't what she wanted--Down Syndrome--and gets an abortion really bothers me too.

It should bother us all, no matter where we stand on this issue.

What's next? "Well, the doctor told us that she'd have a club foot, so we decided to abort."

Again, I'm not sure that Ms. Magazine's point was to point out the self-centerdness and careless behavior of some of these women, since it seems that they are hailed as heroines, but as someone who has marched to have the "choice" to terminate a pregnancy, it really makes me rethink the issue.

Feminism, to me, isn't what it used to be in its pure form. I'll post on that at some point.

I don't know what the answer really is to this issue. I think it should be legal and safe, but I also think it should be a choice that is made after all other options are considered. It should never be used as birth control. Sadly, it seems that's becoming the norm.

I want all women to have access to a safe abortion, but it should not be something that is done so blithely. Of course, that is just my opinion. It should be there, primarily, for those who have been raped, who are poor, a stupid teenaged girl who doesn't know better, when the life of the mother is in danger, or for victims of incest. I don't think it should be there to be accessed like putting on your make-up every morning.

The woman who decided to terminate her pregnancy, because the child had Down Syndrome? I understand the implications, but we start on a slippery slope if it's okay to terminate a pregnancy because a child is not going to be perfect.

So, I guess the Apocalypse is near, since I share the outrage of my ultra-Conservative brothers and sisters on this particular issue.

I'm troubled by this issue, as well as the RU486 pill too. I'm just not sure how to put controls on it, or what those controls should be, so it doesn't become the 'hip' thing to do, in order to not have to use condoms or other contraceptives.

I'll save the rest of my stream of consciousness for the next post.

It just bugs me that if you don't think that the Vagina Monologues is THE feminist play of the last century, or if you dare to point out that certain brands of 'feminism' smack of a very dangerous self-centerdness, that you risk the ire of women's groups across the US.

My views on feminism are like those of modern social philosopher, Camille Paglia. I don't agree with everything she spouts forth, but for the most part, she is right on. She's one of those individuals that I'd like to have at the ultimate dinner party.

Here is an exerpt from a Playboy interview she did in 1995. I don't agree with her stance on NAMBLA, but on most other issues I agree.

Brilliant and honest take on modern feminism.

PLAYBOY: Are you a feminist?

PAGLIA: I'm absolutely a feminist. The reason other feminists don't like me is that I criticize the movement, explaining that it needs a correction. Feminism has betrayed women, alienated men and women, replaced dialogue with political correctness. PC feminism has boxed women in. The idea that feminism--that liberation from domestic prison--is going to bring happiness is just wrong. Women have advanced a great deal, but they are no happier. The happiest women I know are not those who are balancing their careers and families, like a lot of my friends are. The happiest people I know are the women--like my cousins--who have a high school education, got married immediately graduating and never went to college. They are very religious and they never question their Catholicism. They do not regard the house as a prison.

PLAYBOY: But what about the women who stay home and are still suffering?

PAGLIA: The problem is the alternative handed to them by feminism. I look at my friends who are on the fast track. They are desperate, frenzied and frazzled, the most unhappy women who have ever existed. They work nights and weekends and have no lives. Some of them have children who are raised by nannies.

PLAYBOY: What's your point? Do you want women to go back to the home?

PAGLIA: The entire feminist culture says that the most important woman is the woman with an attached case. I want to empower the woman who wants to say, "I'm tired of this and I want to go home." The far right is correct when it says the price of women's liberation is being paid by the children.

PLAYBOY: Are you siding with the far right?

PAGLIA: No. What I'm doing is pointing out the bind the women's movement has created not only for women but for the culture as well. Children are abandoned. There is no doubt that it's better for kids to have contact with mothers for those early years. When I go to work in the morning, I see black women and Hispanic women pushing strollers filled with rich, white babies. These women provide the best human contact that those kids have. So we have gone back to the mammy. It's Gone With the Wind again.

PLAYBOY: What's a better solution?

PAGLIA: Women should be free to choose. For the ones who decide to work, child care should be provided. The problem is that only large corporations can afford to have on-site day care. Mothers can visit their children during coffee breaks and lunch, which is wonderful. Other women are in difficult positions, and the feminist movement offers nothing except scorn if they choose their children's well-being. Of course, the other thing the women's movement has done is caused a destructive division between the sexes. Men are in a terrible position.

My friend, Martha Ann

2006-10-07T11:54:00.000-07:00

Sometimes people come into your life when you least expect it.

Susan and I were at a Mary Gauthier concert in Chattanooga, last year, and one reason that we went was because it was a free concert!!! Many, maybe even you, have not heard of Mary Gauthier.

Do yourself a favor and click on her link, within this blog.

Anyway, it was one of those free concerts, so that opened the door to families coming out to enjoy the music.

What is so ironic is that Mary Gauthier's music is very dark. It's not "Shiny Happy People," by any means. It's about alcoholism, death, prison, lost love, etc. Yeah, it's not Mary Gauthier and "Up with People" by any means.

She's been called the female Johnny Cash and that's a good comparison.

So, we were surrounded by these oh-so-cute-darlings running around, screaming, twirling like it was a Grateful Dead concert, and we had a whole family of them behind us.

It's really irritating when you go to see a singer/songwriter, and you actually want to listen to the words but you can't, because people are talking through the whole performance.

Let me just say it was bizarre to see these little 8-year-old girls dancing to Mary singing, "I Drink."

The rest of the story is interesting, but it would take up too much space here. So, check out my post on the Yahoo Mary Gauthier group, for the original story.

http://launch.groups.yahoo.com/group/Mary_Gauthier/message/907

If you don't want to join the group, I'll just tell you that I thought my partner and I were going to duke it out with this "mommy" and her "sprogs" behind us.

Anyway, after the show, we stood in line to make fools out of ourselves in front of Mary, and I overheard a boy behind us, who was young, but he was so well behaved and really seemed very funny. I could tell immediately he was one of those kids who is born an "old soul" and can interact with adults very well, but still be a kid.

I turned around and laughed at something that he said, and his mother smiled and we all began to talk. We complimented her son, and briefly told her what had happened during the concert and she was amazed as well.

She told us that she was a singer/songwriter and she used to live in Atlanta. We so enjoyed chatting with her. She was great.

That's the end of it, I thought. But when I joined the Mary Gauthier Yahoo group, and I told the story about what happened, she responded and said she was the lady standing behind us at the concert!!

I told her to email and the rest is history.

We have communicated via email, phone, and she's become a really cool friend. She and her husband are fantastic people, and she is a really good songwriter. When I first put her demo cd into my player, I looked at Susan and said, "God, I hope this doesn't suck, because I don't want to have to lie to her and say it's good, if it isn't. I like her too much."

Let me tell you, it did not suck at all. Not every song was strong, but overall, I thought she had real talent, period.

Since that time, she's honed her craft even more, and I am really enjoying her music as much as her friendship.

As a woman, I admire her even more for continuing to plug away when most women her age would have given up on that dream to sing and tell stories. She inspires me more than she knows, since I struggle a lot with being 40 and still not hitting my stride in life.

I am so proud of her, though, because her song, "When Your Soldier Comes Back Home," has been voted number one, consecutively, on Neil Young's Web site. She's outshone such established giants like Kris Kristofferson, Merle Haggard, in popularity on his site.

Last week, Neil's producer contacted her and asked her to write the story behind her song. That is amazing to me.

Read it here:
http://www.neilyoung.com/lwwtoday/index.html

She is one of the coolest women I've met in a long time, and it turns out that when I was a senior in high school, she was singing in nightclubs right down the street from me!! My friends and I used to sneak in--using fake IDs and charming the doormen--to both of the places where she used to sing.

How's that for serendipity, or Six Degrees of Separation? I bet I saw her and didn't even realize that years later we would meet and become friends.

She's about to enter the salon.com song contest! As soon as she does, I will give the link so you can vote for her song!!!

Here's to you, Martha Ann, or MAB as I call her!!!

Harry Potter and the Ignorant Shrew

2006-10-03T10:15:00.000-07:00

I might be the very first person to break this news story.

There's one more installment to the Potter series:

Harry Potter and the Ignorant Shrew.

In this installment, Harry encounters one of the most frightening, yet comical creatures yet.

The bored Conservative Christian housefrau!!!

Read this:

http://www.ajc.com/news/content/metro/gwinnett/stories/2006/10/03/1004Potter.html

Now, I truly don't see what the big deal is. My niece has thoroughly enjoyed the Potter series. She's now 13, and let me just tell you, it didn't really have any long lasting effects.

Sure, she went through a phase where she turned a few neighborhood kids into frogs, but these were kids that nobody liked anyway, including their parents. What's the big deal? Kids will be kids.

And the levitation? Well, she stopped levitating about two years ago. Harder for her, though, was to stop playing Quidditch. After a few visits from Dobbins Air Station, she realized that it wasn't cool to interfere with Government airspace.

Miranda, my niece, is a very bright girl. She makes excellent marks in school, is in the gifted program, and after being allowed taking the SAT, last year, she scored a 1200. Her reading comprehension is very high, also.

She's pretty adept at knowing what is fiction and what is non-fiction, as most intelligent kids are, also. It's busy-body women like the one bringing this stupid case to fruition that actually threaten the fabric of free speech.

Just as the attorney for Gwinnett County said, this morning, if the school system started removing books from the library shelves, based on parents' personal beliefs, then there would be no books on the shelves at all.

I listened to Ms. Mallory's reasoning as to why she believes these books should be taken off of the shelves. She claims that it's making kids want to become witches, and that the books switch what is really evil, into something that is good.

Yeah, maybe it makes kids want to be witches like Samantha Stevens in Bewitched. Honestly, I cannot believe that with all of the serious issues that face the children in our country, this woman is so worried that some kid is going to be hiding a cauldron in their closet, along with an AK 47, after reading a Harry Potter novel.

I can tell you that reading the books made my niece interested in reading in general, and that she's not worshipping Satan, unless you consider Napoleon Dynamite to be Satan.

If your kid believes he/she can put on a black cape and make him/herself invisible, or if he/she believes they can fly on a broom, maybe therapy is in order, or there's more going on with your kid than reading Harry Potter books.

Just the other day, Miranda said she was seriously considering colleges for which she may want to attend. She's not into drugs (knock wood), has very good friends, and is a normal, typical teen.

She asked for my help because she wasn't sure where Hogwarts College was located, but she's sure she can get a scholarship there.

I believe she can, and she and her friends are calling on the name of Harry Potter, a fictional character, and asking the Ouji board for an answer as we speak.

Smells like 'chicken'

2006-09-29T13:00:00.000-07:00

This is one of those hang-my-mouth-wide-open-only-in-the-South stories that defies explanation.

Sharon Kendall--"God love her," as my mother would say--has some, let's say, issues.

The Ellijay, Ga. resident worked as a janitor for a local elementary school. Maybe she was overcome by the constant ammonia fumes from her mop bucket, maybe she was tired of being called on to clean up some little cherubs' vomit from the floor of the cafeteria, or maybe she's just Cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs.

Whatever the reason, she told local Gilmer County authorities that she was sexually assaulted at the school on the morning of August 17th, by a Hispanic male. Okay, she actually trashed the school to make it look like a struggle took place, and gave herself injuries.

What's even more intriguing is that she reportedly told said authorities that the man, "smelled like chicken."

I did a double-take when I heard that tasty tidbit on one of my local news channels. It seems that there is a Gold Kist chicken processing plant across from the school, which is heavily employed by Hispanic men and women.

Smelled like chicken? Well, at least she didn't say, "teen spirit."

However, she appeared in court, yesterday, to answer to charges that she made up the whole story.

Yep, maybe it was the weather that morning that made her say, "You know? I really hate those Mexicans across the street. And that SMELL of chicken!"

What's up with these wacky white women, who have suddenly decided that it's the 'Hispanic Male' who is the Chupacabra of the southern United States?

First it was the "Runaway Bride," Jennifer Willbanks, who made up her whole abduction story, with Hispanic males as the perps, and now this sad sack.

With the ongoing hate concerning illegal immigrants--most crossing the border from Mexico--the above Mensa geniuses really make me embarrassed to live in the South.

I remember my first encounter with an 'illegal alien,' about ten years ago. I was working a temp job, with two women who were here on Work Visas from Ireland. They were a riot to be around, and they were always amused when I attempted an Irish brogue.

Well, I went to lunch with one of the women, Gemma, and she told me about her boyfriend. He was Hispanic and had illegally immigrated from Mexico. Well, at first, that just didn't set well with me. My knee-jerk reaction was, "why couldn't he come over legally?"

We got into a heated conversation about the whole issue, until I finally met him. Let me tell you, this guy was one of the hardest workers I have ever seen. He held three jobs, with one as a sous chef for a local restaurant, and he was one of the most polite men I had ever met.

I changed my whole view about illegal immigrants after meeting him. As well, I watched a whole construction team, made up mostly of Hispanic males, rebuild my former neighbor's home, after half of the house burned to the ground. These guys would get there at 7:30am and they didn't stop working until dusk. I kid you not.

That house was rebuilt in a matter of weeks and it was good work. I know that there are no easy answers for the problem of illegal immigration. With 3000 or more immigrants crossing the borders illegally every day, we cannot support the number of folks crossing over.

But why should hard working individuals like my friend Gemma's partner be punished for some of the scumbags who really do come here to siphon off our Welfare system? I truly believe there are more hard-working men and women, wanting a better life for themselves and their children, who cross over every day, than there are deadbeats.

Conversely, why don't we start ejecting those US citizens who make a career out of Welfare, along with the undesirables?

I don't know what the answer is, as far as setting up a guest program that weeds out the undesirables and keeps those who are willing to work the crap jobs that many of the privileged in this country don't/won't work. It's not an easy problem to solve.

What I do know is that building some 600 mile 'Berlin Wall' is not the answer, nor is exacerbating the situation by giving press to lying bigots such as Willbanks and Kendall, who instill a real fear among many who already believe and promote these bad stereotypes.

No doubt that some folks in Ellijay--in the foothills of the North Georgia mountains--took on a lynch mob mentality, as one of its citizens was interviewed on television. He said, "That woman should be put away for a long time, because we took it seriously. We mobilized and were going to protect the rest of the members who live in our town."

During the time that elapsed between her 'confession' of assault, until her court appearance yesterday, I can bet that life for the Hispanics (particularly male) living in Ellijay was not a happy existence.

Ms. Kendall tearfully addressed the court, as she was sentenced to 500 hours of community service, ordered to pay $8,500 in restitution. What did she say in her defense? "I'm sorry." I agree with her.

Oddly, her attorney was former DeKalb County District Attorney, J. Tom Morgan. He claimed she was 'mentally ill' and that realizes that what she did was wrong.

That really touches my heart.

The judge said she didn't like having to give her community service, instead of a jail sentence, but she had to abide by the plea bargain.

I have a suggestion for the Ellijay school: Why don't you hire a hard-working Hispanic to replace her in the janitor position?

I haven't even addressed the audacity of 'crying wolf' concerning sexual assault, but I'm still laughing over the TV anchor saying, "...and she said her assailant smelled like chicken."

(singing to myself) "That's what I love about the South!"

That whole 'rescuer' thing

2006-09-27T20:30:00.000-07:00

It's really interesting to see human dynamics currently play out on a national stage. Hillary is defending Bill, Condi is defending Bush, etc.

We all have something in common. I admit it freely. If I don't watch it, I can really fall into the trap of playing 'rescuer,' not only with my own dysfunctional family, but with friends that I love dearly.

For those few people who view my blog on regular basis, no doubt you saw the epic that I wrote in defense of my friend.

She didn't ask me to do it, but after hearing and seeing first hand how her ex basically raped her of her personal belongings and the equity in the house that they owned together, as well as when I found out her side of the story, concerning the physical abuse that happened, that 'rescuer' impulse kicked into overdrive.

However, in acting on that impulse, I'm not truly letting my friend do the work she needs to do, in order to continue to move through her anger and pain. In trying to avenge the trespasses against her, I may be guilty of trying to do her work for her. As well, I'm only serving as a reminder of her ex, when I try to avenge.

It's evident that she is more than capable of standing up for herself and taking care of herself, period.

As well, I realize, now, that I'm only perpetuating another triangle, in addition to the one that her ex and her ex's new partner keep trying to create with her, through their own blogs. Those dreaded triangles! Each of us has our own truth; our own version of events in our present and past, filtered through our imperfectness.

In college, a very dear professor that I knew kept urging me to go to law school. She told me that my dissertations and orations in her class, concerning those considered underdogs in American History, could sway a jury to do whatever I asked.

I believe the context to which she was referring was the Rosenberg trials and executions. I had a visceral reaction to that dark time in American history, because I do not believe justice was served.

That's the way it's always been for me. I speak up and out for the underdog, and I will stand up for my friends, period, if I believe that they have been harmed. Harder for me, is speaking up for myself.

In those times when my self esteem is in the toilet, that's hard to do. I've had to force myself to do it for me, but I have no problem doing it for other people.

As I have learned the hard way, playing 'rescuer' only gets you into trouble. The person that you are 'rescuing' may--at some point--resent what you are doing and/or blame you for any repercussions from your 'rescuing'.

Before that happens to me, again, I need to recognize that element to my personality, and instead of 'rescuing' my friend, I need to urge her to continue to do the work needed to truly let go of the hurt, bitterness and anger (and she so has a right to feel all of it, given what happened), and trust that better times are ahead for her. Those good times are already beginning for her.

She's been dating again, which is a good sign. Even more encouraging is that she's seeing the warning signs, earlier, as she's dating different women. But, after posting my epic, I feel it's time to move on from even caring about what her ex is up to, her motives, and her own version of the truth that she needs to continue in order to create her personna with the new gf.

My friend feels the same way about the situation.

What's done is done, period. In moving on, one doesn't forget the pain but takes a long look at it and leaves it in the past where it belongs. Because as long as you hold hatred or anger against the person that wronged you, that transgressor still has complete control over you. Letting go seems like the easiest thing to do, but it's very hard to put into action.

It's very hard, I feel, for all of us to not want to do spur the Universe along, especially in the area of Karma. When we feel someone has wronged us, lied to us or hurt us on purpose, we wonder why--sometimes--it seems that the person that wronged us is reaping nothing but positive benefits from their destructive actions toward us.

In this case, the transgressor moved right on with a new girlfriend, which proved to my friend that the transgressor was already forming an emotional bond with the new girlfriend well before she left my friend.

It's very difficult to let that sort of pain go, when the person that has purposely set out to hurt you, destroy you, seems to get everything that they want, while you are forced to sit among the ruins of the relationship. Meanwhile, they are perpetuating lies about your relationship to people you may never even know.

Unfortunately, we cannot control the Universe. Karma is real and it's not discriminatory. It's just the way things work. I've certainly reaped what I have sown plenty of times. When I have purposely done or said something negative about another person, in anger, it may take a year, three months, three weeks, three days but at some point that negative energy I put out is going to come back to me in some form.

The person that I wronged may not be there to see it happen to me, but it's a humbling experience when you finally receive that collective comeuppance. As hard as it is, once you relinquish control of all of the resentment, anger and bitterness and truly let the Universe handle it, there is a real peace that envelopes you.

It's no longer about fear and anger. It's about moving forward and learning from the painful experience.

It's one of the hardest life lessons to learn, and I'm still trying to master it myself. As well, I'm learning to see my own warning signals, when I feel the need to start rescuing someone.

With that said, I'm going to leave "the epic" up for the next day, and then I will delete those posts. I've gotten wrapped up in wanting to 'get' my friend's ex, or make the ex see that what she did was so wrong. But that's not going to happen right now, nor is it my place to try and make it happen.

I just love my friend, and I think what happened was very unfair. Life goes on.

The Condo Leeza Rice Show

2006-09-25T12:36:00.000-07:00

Actually, my new creative dream is to write a skit, based on The Mary Tyler Moore Show, about Condoleeza Rice and her relationship with the Bush staff.

In the Lou Grant role would be Dick Cheney. Murray Slaughter role: Donald Rumsfeld. Ted Baxter? President GW Bush, and our favorite Condi Rice as a spot on Mary Richards.

Can't you just hear her with that crackling Mary Richards voice, saying, "Oh, Misterrrr Chaneeeee?"

Take a look at Condi during an interview, and she has all of the Mary Richards manerisms. The cute head bob, etc.

See, you could do a take-off on the whole show, and do the opening montage scenes, while the theme plays, with Condi walking around the Mall in DC, past the Jefferson, Lincoln memorials, etc. Then, show her at a State Dinner, or during a press conference.

At the end, when Mary usually throws up her hat, you could show Condi throwing the 9/11 report in the air and five Secret Service men pounce on it and her.

Who can turn the world on with her smile.
Who can take a baseless war
And suddenly make it all seem worthwhile

Well it's you girl and you should know it,
With each State Dinner and every troop movement you show it

War is all around
Why don't you stop it?
Your boss is a real idiot
Why don't you just say it?

You might just make it after all!

Quantum Physics: The Musical

2006-09-25T05:34:00.000-07:00

I used to joke that I was going to write "Rasputin: The Musical," and have his conspirators try and off him--like they did in real life--but he keeps returning in each act, having not been killed.

Anyway, I came across this, and I found it really cute. The producers are from Canada, I believe, but take a look. This is great.

http://quantumphysicsthemusical.blogspirit.com/

And now for something totally different...

2006-09-22T19:00:00.000-07:00

This is hilarious.

I think this guy is for real.

http://www.elvispriestley.com/

Now, here's a church I could really get involved with, no questions asked!!!

I promise more levity in the near future.

Check this out: Norman Bates lives

2006-09-19T14:41:00.000-07:00

My goal is to write shorter blog posts, as I can't even read through these myself, without needing a break.

If you want backstory on what I am about to post, read the post entitled, "Are the planets aligned in some weird way?" Well, scroll down a bit, until you can read about the woman-hater, who has a real problem with my posts on a writer's Web site that I frequent.

There's an actual thread in one of the many folders there about what men should do when a woman is on her period. Well, as you can read in my profile, I don't really have to deal with that anymore.

Anyway, my little my misogynist left this nugget on the thread:

I told my mother that my GF seems to become a nasty, horrible piece of goods around that time, and i considered it best for me to try and avoid her as much as I can then. As a woman, she readily endorsed this view.

If I didn't know better, I'd think that was a piece of dialogue from Norman Bates in the film, Psycho.

Well, maybe his GF is inflatable. I sure hope so. That's sort of creepy. "Nasty, horrible piece of goods." Piece of goods? It doesn't take a degreed linguist to figure out the meaning of his words.

Interesting.

Amazing Grace

2006-09-18T17:30:00.000-07:00

The best comedy on TV?

No, it's not MAD TV.

No, it's not Saturday Night Live.

No, it's not the Colbert Report, or the Daily Show.

It's the Nancy Grace Show on CNN!!!

I used to really like Nancy Grace. When she was living in Atlanta, and working for the District Attorney's office in Fulton County, she was an advocate for victim's rights and seemed to be a shining star here.

She was just what we all needed during the joke that was the OJ Simpson trial. Brash, intelligent and able to connect with the audience. Everything would have been fine had she just gone back to her work in Atlanta.

But, as usual, some quick thinking producer sought to capitalize on her 15 minutes of fame and stuck her together with "if it doesn't fit, you must acquit," Johnny Cochran on a Court TV version of the Sonny and Cher show.

I guess it was supposed to be fun to watch them bicker and disagree. Just like Cher, Nancy went on to have her own show first on Court TV and now on CNN.

And she just gets more odd and more Norma Desmond with each episode.

I was telling a friend of mine how Nancy oddly links every sensational crime she covers to OJ Simpson, no matter what it is.

It's true. I mean, she can be commenting on global warming and talking to an expert on the subject, when suddenly she'll blurt out in her straight-out-of-a Tennessee Williams-play southern accent,

"And where WAS OJ Simpson when global warming started?" (as she looks intently into the camera) "Can you answer me that, sir?"

The expert looks confused, and begins to answer:

"What? I'm not sure I understand..." Nancy cuts him off, and rudely says:

"Yes, it's obvious you don't understand, sir. OJ Simpson is still free to cause global warming, while the Goldman family suffers." She rolls her eyes.

Since OJ, she's slowly morphed into Norma Desmond, but I must say, I find the comedy great. Nancy seems like she is a warm person outside of her work on camera, but she just gets weirder and weirder on television.

She's like a drunk you just can't reason with, because she's passed her limit of Tequila shots after the first 'happy hour.' She'll argue for hours, proving that you are in collusion with OJ, until you just say, "Okay Nancy, time to go to bed," and sort of drop her onto her bed.

I'm serious. I think I'm not far off on my assessment. Have you seen her hair, lately?

It looks as if some scared PA goes into her dressing room 30 seconds before showtime, sees that she is passed out, with Smirnoff bottles strewn across the floor, and the walls papered with OJ clippings, jerks her up, slaps her face and says, "Come on Nancy...time for the show."

And she stumbles onto the set, just in time to say, "Good evening, I'm Nancy Grace."

Her latest comedy skit is the best. Okay, some poor waif in Florida loses her son right from under her nose, literally.

She claims the kid was kidnapped through a 10 inch slit in the window screen of the boy's room, but she seems a bit odd, and Nancy spares no time in conjuring up the image of OJ and releasing her drunken fury on this woman.

Hey, I agree with her on this one. I think the mother of this child had something to do with his disappearance, but Amazing Grace likes to be judge, jury and--in some cases--executioner, before the crime is even solved!

So, after Grace pummels this woman, on camera, the woman commits suicide. Geeze. Look, it's not Nancy Grace's fault that some unstable woman offs herself, but it looks like this woman was on the edge anyway.

Maybe Norma Desmond's drunken tirade helped to push her a little closer to that edge. Who knows?

I do know that this show is trippy, period. Three times, last week, I turned to her show, only to hear her mention OJ Simpson's name. No joke. And she's incredulous over John Mark Karr, which leads to some great interactions between Grace and JMK's attorney.

Whatever credibility Nancy Grace may have had as a lawyer, it's sure gone now. But seriously, if you want to have some fun and cop a buzz at the same time, play the "Nancy Grace Drinking Game," with you and a few of your friends.

Every time she mentions, OJ, the Goldman family or Scott Petersen, in the course of one show, take a shot of your favorite libation.

By the end of the show, you'll be as drunk as Norma Desmond seems to be. Maybe it's the lights from the camera that turn her into Norma. I don't know.

Are the planets aligned in some weird way?

2006-09-13T18:12:00.000-07:00

Cosmically, it's been an odd few weeks, culminating with the anniversary of 9/11 .

What are the odds that Steve Irwin would die by a Stingray's barb through his heart? In Australia, there have only been three reported deaths by Stingray in the last 20 years. This guy wrangled with Cobras, Green Mambas, and Crocs!

He went up on the irresponsible meter with me, when he took his baby son in one arm, held a piece of red meat with the other and teased a Croc with the meat.

Even with that, he was a good kind of crazy. He and his wife were all about conservation, period. He was an affable, lovable chap and he died in a very strange way. I'll never forget how excited Steve would get when he found animal droppings.

He'd excitedly hold up some piece of excrement from a Komoto Dragon, get that intense look in his eyes, stare at the camera and with his thick Australian brogue he'd blurt out, "Look! POO!"

Next, comes a strange tale from the house of Anna Nicole Smith. Tell me what the odds are for a mother giving birth to a child and three days later her 20-year-old son dies in his sleep, while sitting next to her hospital bed?

The writers of Six Feet Under could not have thought up a more odd death than this one. You know, Anna Nicole is a force unto herself, and I have made plenty of jokes about her. I do my "Trim Spa Baby" commercial, where I flail my arms around, take a big sip of red wine and yell out her signature line, "It's Trim Spa Baby," while the wine spills down my chin. Well, it is amusing when you are in the mood to laugh at anything.

But I don't wish that fate on anyone, period. That's really awful and heartbreaking. How does one recover from giving birth, begin the nurturing process to the newborn, while grieving over another child's death?

These are odd deaths within the universe. There just seems to be a lot oddness going around.

With that said, I feel compelled to post about my experience with a poster from a writing board that I visit frequently. Actually, what this exchange proved to me is that I need to practice what I preach about mercy, no matter how I feel about the individual. But as you will see, I am as human as the next person.

I make no bones about my neuroses, or my anxiety--at times--when it comes to the wonderful world of writing. In being that honest about my emotions, it leaves you open to criticism and it forces others to look at their own issues surrounding the anxiety of trying to write for a living.

(The post that was on here, yesterday, will return, but I wanted to edit it a little)

It ain't for sissies.

A few weeks ago, I posted about this jerk client I encountered. Basically, I didn't stand up for myself in the first place, I feel, and establish my rates, but he also took advantage of me in a big way. It was the first time I ever took on an assignment that entailed writing a detailed White Paper.

However, that's not how my client presented the project. It was to be a 1500 word 'article' about a certain Accounts Payable topic. Anyway, it turned into a 5000 plus word project, which certainly didn't bother my client, but it bothered me.

Succinctly, I got hosed with a bad contract. Though I am mad, I'm no victim. At the same time, this guy really did know how badly he was taking advantage of me and certainly didn't care.

Well, I was so angry about this guy having me write a first draft and then he turns around and says the first draft, 'isn't what he wanted.'

It was in the middle of this awful deadline that I posted about what was going on with me. I was really pissed and the lack of sleep added to it.

I posted about it with the feelings I was having at the time. After a day or so, nobody posted back so I thought I had really freaked out too much. (don't you love neuroses?) Two people posted, one being this guy who has followed my every post since I joined this board.

Backstory: When I was working a tech writing job a few months ago, I posted about the political games taking place onsite. This guy proceeded to post and tell me how naive I am, that I must be a 'newbie' writer, and that I better call my agency, because he knew for a fact that my client was going to end up firing me.

Through his dramatic interpretation of my problems, he did offer some good information. I felt he was being sincere, so I responded rather kindly to his post, but set him straight on a few things.

Others, however, posted in my defense and sort of shut down this guy and his posts.

Anyway, he, again, read my post on the jerky client, and offered his advice. Again, he also made sure to point out that I had a previous problem with the tech writing client, and now I have a problem with this client. He offered good advice, peppered and tempered by his jabs about my lack of experience, and how I should go and do research before I post again.

When I thanked him and the other poster for responding, I added, "Well, maybe I'm whining too much, because it seems nobody else is interested in posting."

It was an anxiety-laden moment. A real knowledgeable lady, who always takes the time to answer questions from newbies, got really pissed at my reply. Rightly so, though she took it personally.

This led another guy--he left the boards in a huff over a conflict with the owner--to post a "yeah, me too" post.

It was evident that I probably exposed too much of myself on there. Anyway, the know-it-all guy, I'll call him PJW (Pompous Jerk Wad), remained very intent watching the responses and throwing in his two cents.

All others who posted to me were supportive and understood what I was going through, as they had gone through the same things as well. Some of them felt bad for me, as they knew what an exposed nerve I was at the time.

Then, PJW felt the need to respond again, after I left an update about what happened and basically let me know that everyone on the board knows I am an amateur, but he's a professional.

I skipped over it, but apparently I wasn't the only one that was bothered by his demeanor. The board moderator took him to task for denigrating any writer for being a beginner, etc.

He didn't like that reprimand, and he posted some sullen response to her. Since that time, he hasn't posted on that thread, period. Not that I have noticed, at least.

Well, I kept updating the thread, as my travails with this jerky client reached the point where I had to tell him I would not continue working with him for the pittance he gave me on the first assignment.

This time, instead of posting his pearls of pompous wisdom on the board, he decided that I desperately needed to hear what he had to say to me, so he sent a private message through the board.

Wonder why he wouldn't just post on that thread?

Here's PJW's PM in full glory:

The moral of the story is as old as time itself - we all must pay our dues. The simple fact of the matter is that you were naive (and hungry), and as a business person, he could see this and operated accordingly.

It is otherwise known as 'business'. And this is the way it is.

You have indicated that you have done your homework (as had been suggested), and now you are in a stronger position in negotiations. Editors such as this know that they will get you once at least, and moreso the hungrier/needy the writer.

It is a bitter pill to swallow, what the writer perceives as being screwed by the 'managerial class'. It is the wider and classic labour vs. capital battle - your politics and class will determine much of how you perceive it (and for some, how they align themselves). Of course, there are other editors out there that pay higher fees and treat their service providers well. It is a case of weeding out the 'good' from the 'bad' of such editors.

There are quite a number of bumps and hits that we must endure along the way to get to a suitable, stable position. You must become proficient at negotiations, and managing the 'business' if you are to survive and thrive.This is the very distinct difference between the many hobbyist-dabbler-dilletante members here, and the fewer but successful long-term full-timers.

Yes, it's all good information, but he's repeated the 'naive' ''hobbyist' 'amateur' stuff in almost every response he has to my posts. Moreso, he has a real fascination with proving to me that he's got it all together and I don't. Well, that's how I have perceived it.

His PM reads like some attempt at a Valentine's Day card from Fyodor Dostoevsky to his daughter. I feel like printing it out and pasting it into a heart.

It's not so much what he says to me, it's his delivery. He's very pompous, period. He's quite fond of pointing out that he's so successful in writing, so wise, never makes these 'amateur' mistakes, that it's ingratiating. He's also fond of making sure to point out that he's a 'real' writer, and others--including me--only wish to be.

If he hadn't previously posted to me, making sure to always point out that I'm naive, I must not have any writing experience, and why don't I do my research before I post again, I would not have been angered by his private message. But I've just had it with his attitude, and he keeps feeling the need to seek me out to tell me about what he perceives as my shortcomings. He's just really odd, as I know he thinks I am, also.

Usually, I dismiss his blather, because he spends quite a long time--every day--on those boards. I think he's posted over 700 times, in the past year. I get the feeling that he's sitting in some 'Cold War' prison cell, with a dim lightbulb as his only source of light, and that the board may be his only connection to other people. Who knows?

I only go there, when I have a question, or when I want to answer someone else's question. I've posted about 40 times, I believe, since February of this year.

It's a lively place, with a very lively bunch of writers, but I don't always have time to look at everything. I've perused some threads, but I haven't had the time to post a lot.

In time, I hope I can check all of the folders out. One thing that does impress me is board owner's honesty about her road to success in the freelance world, while she battled and overcame some debilitating social phobias. Even in this day and age, many creative people are still afraid to talk about anxiety disorders, panic disorders, for fear of ridicule. Through reading about her background and life, I found out about how open she is about her battle with anxiety. I really admire her for that.

Anyway, I was already sweating out this month's bills, yesterday, while I await payment for two articles. I wasn't in the mood for his BS, period.

I won't bore you with my exchange, other than to say that I basically told him I thought he was a pompous ass, and though his advice is very good, I usually can't get past his condescending manner when he writes. I also informed him that I have been working as a professional writer for over a decade, and that--due to health problems, and the economy crashing in the early 2000's--I was out of work for a long period of time.

When I returned to the work world, it was a different ballgame indeed. Not that I needed to even explain things to him, but he seems to want my attention for whatever reason.

As well, since he acts as if he has no problems as a 'professional writer' and he doesn't whine and complain like 'amateurs,' I decided to take a look at some of his own posts.

Oh, you should see them. He complains about not getting paid on time, he complains about anxiety over not getting paid, he whines about editors not getting back to him, he concludes in one post that it's an evil woman that's behind his problems with one client. He had to make sure to point out that it was a woman that did him wrong. Interesting.

I wondered why he felt it was okay to keep telling me what I need to do with my writing career, or that it was okay to insult me about his perceived level of my writing experience, when he deals with the same issues as well.

All writers do at some point or another. I decided to give him a taste of his own words, using his posts. He sure didn't like that at all.

If you want to see my PM, feel free to email me and I will show it to you, so you do have a reference to his meltdown. My replies are too long (same issue I have here on the blog).

He wasn't really happy with me turning the tables on him at all. Probably not, since I was going out of my way to treat him the way he treats me.

His response? Now, remember he initiated a private message with me and felt that I really needed to hear his sage wisdom. I don't engage him. I've never been rude to him on the boards, and I never read his posts, period. Once I see his name, I know the post is going to have the cadence of a Nazi SS soldier.

Here it is:

Up until your initial post, I was prepared to accept that there might be some merit in what you had to say.

With your most recent tirade, I can only let you know that it is the mark of a severely psychically scarred individual.

I have always had the sense that your words contained within them the psyche of a tight, stocky pugilist, constantly seeking and itching for a fight. Your recent posts in the freelance forum and the most recent PM to me have confirmed this and more.

You have a psychological problem, on top of your physical problems, honey. Your recent post is clearly one of projection.

No, let me thank you - for taking soooo much time to undertake a review of the archives in the hopes of distortion to 'catch me out', and score points. Indeed, one of the oldest tricks in the book - and terribly boring. I hope you gained satisfaction from it - no sense spending precious time doing something you don't enjoy now, is there?

XX

After I stopped laughing, I really took a look at what he said. His description of me is very vivid in its detail, especially given that I am female. Honestly, it's about the most creative thing I've seen him write, but it's sort of scary/creepy, especially the whole 'honey' thing.

It seems he's been following my every post, but if that's the case, and he clearly doesn't care for my posts, or me why is he reading them and why is he contacting me??

But I have to say that his description of me is the most passionate thing I've seen him write. Oddly, that passage proves to me that he is a good writer, but its what spurs his passion that concerns me.

What's even more interesting, to me, is the whole 'in hopes of distortion to catch me out and score points.'

What does that mean? He contacted me, not the other way around. I also love it that the title of his message was "Final Word."...wow, a big, anal control freak!!! Imagine that?

I should have just let it go, but when a seemingly misogynist male makes a comment like "Final Word," it's just too much fun to let it go at that, right?

My last response to him, before he went on Ignore: (I think he's probably got me on ignore, but I have a feeling he's already viewed this blog)

Gosh,

For someone who thinks I'm pretty screwed up, mentally, you sure do follow me around a lot, read my posts, analyze them, and send me private messages.

I didn't initiate a conversation with you, and I gave you a taste of your sadistic medicine, which you didn't like.

I didn't have to dig hard to find posts where you whine and complain about the same issues as I do.

You really seem to hate women, which comes through not only in this PM, but also in your posts.

If I had to guess, I'd say you are a repressed homosexual, who has 'mommy' issues, but who cares?

Oh, and a Narcissist to boot. Not a good combo, but I'm not qualified to delve into your personal life.

But I must say your description of me was very entertaining. Such anger was feted all over that paragraph, and you even used the word pugilist!!! I love it!

Again, remember that it's you who have followed my posts, and you who initiated this PM. I think that says loads about your own mental condition, 'honey.'

But I'm not sure **board owner name deleted** would appreciate a member here trying to use mental illness as a defamatory comment against another member, whether in a PM or on the boards.

Don't communicate with me, again in PM or on the boards. I don't read your posts, and I'm not interested in your pearls of wisdom.

I'm too busy getting all tight and angry, and ready for my next boxing match, 'honey' (two circles and a snap)

In retrospect, I should have just ignored him from the get go, as I have done previously. But it was one of those days, and I was really over his "I'm a professional. You are not" schtick.

The above conversation further confirms that we are indeed in the middle of some sort of planetary shift.

I just find it sad, in this day and age, that people who want to hurt others, do it with the mental illness moniker, as if it's demeaning to have a problem like that. It's such a pot shot. Yet, I returned the favor.

My father is bi-polar and I've watched him struggle. I struggle with anxiety and depression, and so does my partner. Most of the friends we have are either in therapy, been in therapy, or are on medication.

People like PJW use anything they can to crush someone that reminds them of their own weaknesses and shortcomings. They find it a sign of weakness to admit that they, too, deal with the same anxiety laden issues, so they find someone they can try to pummel, in some sick attempt to make them feel better about themselves.

I hope PJW comes back to my blog and reads this. Unfortunately, he won't have the last word here!

Well, I'd write more but I'm in training for my next fight with Evander Holyfield.

For training, I thought I'd pick a fight with the mailman today, or maybe I'll kick the crutches out from under my neighbor, who broke his leg...you know, just to release the pent up anger.

You know me. I'm always lookin' for a fight!!!

Put em' up!

Tender Mercies

2006-09-08T19:00:00.000-07:00

Lately--and don't ask me why, those three people who view my blog--I've been thinking about Charles Manson and the Manson family.

No, not because I want to write a musical about them, although that would be something twisted that would cross my mind, but because I was curious as to what happened to the actual murderers.

Particularly, Leslie Van Houten.

If the point of sending someone to the slammer is to teach them a lesson, and to make them pay for the crime that they committed, then nobody has paid that price more than Leslie Van Houten.

However, I--like many--am torn about my feelings concerning whether she should get parole, or not. It won't matter for another year, as yesterday she was denied for the 15th time in the past 35 years of her incarceration.

The murders of the La Bianca family were no less gruesome than the Sharon Tate murders, but Van Houten has been a model prisoner, she's worked for good in the outside community, and she's continually flagellated herself, spiritually, mentally and emotionally for what she did so many years ago.

Of course I do not condone what she did. Who in their right mind would? But I think there are times when there truly is a conversion and maturity for an individual sent to prison for the most grizzly of offenses. I think of Karla Faye Tucker.

From what I've seen and read about Ms. Van Houten, I do not believe she's faking it. Whether she ever leaves prison or not, I believe she has taken the steps to admit to what she did, she's gone through the feelings of guilt and shame, and she's been able to separate healthy responsibility/guilt for the taking of life from debilitating shame.

I don't mean to seem blithe to the gravity of her crimes. She was a very sick person, at the time of her trial and conviction, but if the goal of imprisonment is the rehabilitation of those who are willing to take responsibility for what they did, then I think she's human attainment of that goal.

If I was held responsible for all of my deeds and words, when I was 19 or younger, I might not be here--free on the outside world--myself. No, I never committed heinous crimes, but I don't think I had a lick of sense at that time.

Well, let me get to the point of this post. I swear I do have a point. I know I ramble.

Anyway, I was cruising Blogger, searching for anyone who might have posted about Leslie's latest parole denial, and I came upon an interesting blog.

http://www.mrterryc.com/idealist.htm

I wasn't looking for it, but God often shows himself in the oddest of places.

For a long time, I have been bereft about the state of organized religion in this country, and how much hate and fear rhetoric seems to fill the airways and blogspaces, both on the left and on the right. Nothing brought that home in a clear way than my partner's uber right-wing, conservative, blogstalker.

She's the kind of Catholic that I avoid; The typical rabid idealogue that seems to enjoy attacking those that don't act, think or believe in the same skewed way.

I was becoming prejudiced to the whole sect, in a big way, not just because of her, but because of the whole Priest/molestation scandal. The whole thing made me sick.

But I found the above blog. In it, I found a person who is a devoted Roman Catholic and makes no bones about it. However, my own biases were shattered, because this Roman Catholic is a compassionate and very intelligent Christian.

I found myself reading almost everything he'd written on his blog and enjoying every one of the posts. I don't agree with every point he makes, but our commonalities are much more prevalent than our differences on issues (sometimes, only in small ways).

Reading his posts gave me hope, period. Hope that there ARE sane, rational folks out there, who may have differing viewpoints than me, but who realize that we are one in Christ.

And in my cynicism, this is exactly what I needed to restore my own faith. Sometimes, it's the small things, folks.

It moved me so much that I emailed him. He truly seems like a really interesting person, and I hope we will keep in touch. I plan to continue to read his blog.

I urge all of you to do the same. After reading his blog and reading his subsequent email response to me, it made me think of Mary Gauthier's song, "Mercy Now."

We all need, whether we deserve it or not, a little "mercy," even Leslie Van Houten, and, well, maybe even my partner's former blogstalker. (I just gagged, after I typed that)

Mercy Now
By: Mary Gauthier

My father could use a little mercy now
The fruits of his labor
Fall and rot slowly on the ground
His work is almost over
It won't be long and he won't be around
I love my father, and he could use some mercy now

My brother could use a little mercy now
He's a stranger to freedom
He's shackled to his fears and doubts
The pain that he lives in is
Almost more than living will allow
I love my bother, and he could use some mercy now

My church and my country could use a little mercy now
As they sink into a poisoned pit
That's going to take forever to climb out
They carry the weight of the faithful
Who follow them down
I love my church and country, and they could use some mercy now

Every living thing could use a little mercy now
Only the hand of grace can end the race
Towards another mushroom cloud
People in power, well
They'll do anything to keep their crown
I love life, and life itself could use some mercy now

Yeah, we all could use a little mercy now
I know we don't deserve it
But we need it anyhow
We hang in the balance
Dangled between hell and hallowed ground
Every single one of us could use some mercy now
Every single one of us could use some mercy now

The sad selling of 9/11

2006-09-08T08:09:00.000-07:00

Am I the only one that thinks that it's too soon for all of the 9/11 films?

Maybe I'm just a curmudgeon, but it's still hard for me to even watch the documentaries--very good ones, by the way--on PBS, Discovery, National Geographic Channel, History Channel, concerning every aspect of that awful day in history.

I watched a fictional move on A&E, I believe, about Flight 93, and it was so agonizing to watch what 'might' have happened in the final minutes of those brave folks' lives.

I refused to see the two films that recently came out in the theatres--one, by Oliver Stone, I believe--because the actual event, and the footage from that day still replay in my brain over and over. I had no relative or friend that died in 9/11, but it still hurts me too much to even be reminded of the horror those brave folks went through, on their way to eternity. I can only imagine what the survivors go through.

I'm sure that's a collective replay.

Didn't folks wait about 10-20 years, before they started making documentaries and films about the JFK Assassination (I know, I mention that a lot in my posts)? As well, Vietnam? I do recall Frank Sinatra personally pulling "The Manchurian Candidate" from theatres, right after JFK died.

On the other hand, films about Pearl Harbor started right after the incident. "From Here to Eternity" comes to mind.

And now comes ABC's film, "Path to 9/11."

This is supposed to cover everything that was going on at the White House, with the CIA, etc., before 9/11. From what I understand, it's very "Pro-Bush," and makes a real concerted effort to portray President Bill Clinton as being a sex crazed freak, who was too busy boinking Monica, to find and stop Bin Laden.

Imagine that?

It's September. The launching of the final lap in the political jungle of elections, before the November vote. What better time to have Rumsfeld spouting the "fascist" word, against those who oppose what they continue to do in Iraq, etc.?

What better time to trot out GW at various conventions, etc., spouting off about how long the war against the "tarr-er-ists" will take, etc.?

And it's the best time to produce a film with half-truths, and--according to some like former Secretary of State Madeline Albright--outright lies about one of the most popular Democratic Presidents in history!

Well, maybe Clinton was too busy answering to the inquisitors, who spent millions of taxpayer dollars on an investigation into the private sex life of Bill Clinton? Could that be why he couldn't devote as much time as he needed to track down Bin Laden?

From what I am reading, the writer of this film is a staunch conservative.

Read for yourself:

http://www.workingforchange.com/activism/action.cfm?itemid=21330&afccode=n71txt

The film was made available to over 900 conservative bloggers and media personnel, like that oracle of un-biased truth, Rush Limbaugh. However, when President Clinton, Albright, and others wanted to preview the film, they were denied.

Wow. And these are the same folks who claim that there is a sinister, "Liberal bias" in the media.

Pot? Meet Kettle.

Yes, leave it to this administration to use a national network to get the propaganda out, before November. "See, it's the EVIL, IMMORAL degenerates of the Democratic Party, who allowed 9/11 to take place!"

How sweet to exploit the 3,000 lives lost in that tragedy, for use as a political tool. If this is true, it really makes me wonder about those behind the scenes pushing for this to be aired. The families of the victims, who are left with a gaping hole in their hearts and forever in their lives, are flesh and blood humans, not pawns in a political strategy game.

Let's say that President Clinton was to blame for not capturing Bin Laden, when he had the chance.

Okay, well we've had about five years since 9/11, and the Bush Administration has failed to find, capture and put on trial, Bin Laden. Instead, we are engaged in a futile war, within a country that had absolutely NOTHING to do with 9/11 and/or Weapons of Mass Destruction.

Can we blame THAT on Clinton, too? Can we blame the purposeful apathy to truly go after the mastermind of 9/11 on Bill Clinton?

Hell, let's just blame it all on Clinton! JFK Assassination, Vietnam, Watergate, Katrina. Let's make a board game out of it.

"Blame it on Bill."

I have this funny feeling that as November approaches, gas prices will continue to fall--because of the Republicans, of course--and whaddya think about an elevated terror alert, coupled with a Bin Laden sighting, or bombing of a "suspected" Bin Laden hideout?

The question will be, concerning all of the above, are we--the American people--going to continue to be so dumb and gullible that we take this latest propaganda bait, hook, line and sinker?

The counting of the ballots will tell. Someone make a call to that super cool dude, "Hanging Chad."

Geeze, even I can't go 'there'...

2006-09-08T06:58:00.000-07:00

Since my partner's blogstalker intrigued me enough that I read her blog, as well as visiting all of the right-wing links to other blogs listed--her views, and those of her friends make John Birch look like Jesse Jackson-- I read something that shocked, saddened and sickened me.

I dare say that I actually agree with what I read on one of the blogs.

Director Gabriel Ranges' new film, "The Death of a President," recently premiered at the Toronto Film Festival.

No, this is not another documentary about the assassination of JFK. This is a "mockumentary," that explores the sick notion of, "What if President Bush was assassinated?"

It's a 90-minute film, meant to look like a factual documentary, and it's opening scenes include a crude scene of a supposed Bush (the production team has digitally superimposed President Bush's real face onto the actor playing him) being gunned down, after making a speech and walking through a huge Anti-War protest. British television is going to air the film.

As a supporter of free speech, and as someone who believes in the right to artistic expression--no matter if I agree with the expression, or even like it for that matter--I find this one of the most offensive and potentially dangerous films made recently.

Mel Gibson's S&M tribute to the crucifixion of Christ sickened me, and I refused to see it because of its Anti-Semitic overtones and it's glorification of gore, period. No doubt that the crucifixion was as gruesome as one can imagine, but it felt--to me--that Gibson reveled in the gore, almost to a point of enjoying it a bit too much. And I just cannot stomach Mel Gibson, period. I feel he is a pompous, hate-filled bigot, period. You can see the anger in his eyes.

Gibson is the pin-up-boy for the right-wing fundies, and well he should be. He pontificates about being so righteous and pious, such a strict Catholic, etc., but when he thinks nobody is looking, he gets tanked up, and starts spouting his real feelings about Jews. Many times, alcohol is a truth serum for some. It loosens one up enough to let their "Id" out.

Thus why I now refer to Mel as "Id Gibson."

Anyway, his own right-wing, Opus-Dei, fantasy did not appeal to me, however he had every right to produce the film, and many were moved by it. I decided not to pay good money to see that. I think it's telling that he chose to focus on every bloody aspect of Christ's gruesome death, but does not spend anytime showing Christ's victory over death, His resurrection, and His promise to those who believe. Very telling on behalf of "Id Gibson," if you ask me.

With that said, I feel totally different about "Death of a President," even though I completely loathe the current policies of the Bush Administration, across the board.

I can't even bear to look at Bush, or even hear his "Manchurian Candidate-like" speeches. His cronies, as well, sicken me.

Would I like to see him Impeached? Oh yeah! But do I wish for his murder? Never.

"Death of a President" could prove to be a very sick and dangerous film, period. Whether you identify as Liberal, Conservative, Republican, Democrat, Libertarian, etc., you should know that such a film is beyond bad taste.

Though possibly covered under "Freedom of Speech," I am wondering about legal action at the Federal level, if this director actually gets an American film distributor to show the film in the U.S.?

I would think this might fall under the guidelines of making threats on the life of the President. One can only imagine how this would affect Mrs. Bush, their children, the Bush family. But think about what this film might mean to the whack-jobs out there, who might actually be obsessing about doing the same thing?

Look, we all have the Zapruder Film if we want to view a real president's murder, and that's bad enough.

Again, I am no fan of this administration, and I am pretty fed up with the Democratic party as well, but there is no excuse for such a careless and potentially life-threatening film like this.

Read the details for yourself:
http://www.iht.com/articles/2006/09/01/news/shot.php

The filmmaker has a right to make the film, but it's should have stayed as a "What If?" question.

In this volatile political season, this is not something we need, period. I'm going to write to the British TV channel, who is going to air the film, and respectfully ask them to rethink that decision.

If you feel the same way, I encourage you to do the same.

Mean Glee

2006-08-30T14:32:00.000-07:00

Recently, I read a column by one of my favorite writers and personalities, Dominick Dunne. In his August 2006 Vanity Fair column, he was describing his long history of attending The Cannes Film Festival, as well as the highlights and lowlights of Cannes 2006.

As much as I really don't care about the cult of celebrity that surrounds Cannes, I do like Dunne's take on things.

He was describing the visceration of Sofia Coppola's film, Marie Antoinette, by critics. Here's his quote:

"Someone described the savage critics...as a bunch of jet-lagged, hung-over shi*s. The mean glee flying around Cannes was so distasteful that it almost spoiled the festival for me."

Mean Glee. What a great term.

Though the world of blogging is not as sophisticated an affair as Cannes, I sometimes feel the same way.

The mean glee that sometimes flies around Blogger is so distasteful, it almost spoils the festival for me, also.

My partner has a blogstalker, who continues to obsessively view her blog--up to 10 times per day--and now this person has posted, specifically about my partner, on her own blog.

Usually, I let my partner fight her own battles and I do not get involved, but I found it oddly amusing that someone that my partner doesn't even know is so enamored and obsessed with my partner's thoughts on religion and the fact that she's a lesbian.

My partner will not engage this woman. However, maybe it's time for her to experience a little "mean glee" herself? I care not if she sees this post, nor her response to it.

She's obsessed so much that she posted parts of my partner's blog on her blog. First of all, from a copyright point of view, unless this troll gets permission, she isn't allowed to post material from another person's blog, if it is copyrighted. I could be wrong, but that's what I understand.

Secondly, as I read the blog, I had to really laugh. If apply her "mean glee," then, just from reading this woman's blog, profile, and previous posts, it's easy to see--at least to me and anyone else that has an IQ over 30-- that she could very well be a sexually frustrated woman who has channeled her frustration into hate of those that are free to express themselves and are living a life of personal truth.

Hmm, let's see. She's married, a stay-at-home-mother to three children with Autism, and is attempting a Weight Watchers comeback. "Mean Glee" dictates that she must be a fat housewife, trapped and frustrated. Autism is not an easy disorder to live with, or to watch in any child. I mean one child with Autism would be daunting enough, but three?

I think I might have stopped pro-creating after the second one, ya know? "Mean Glee" dictates that, obviously, there were some bad chromosomes coming down the DNA pike. From this woman's angry demeanor, and from the time she devotes to obsessively read my partner's blog, I'm wondering if she just leaves those kids in a locked room all day. Who has time to come back to view a blog over and over and over and over, every day?

However, maybe the Autism is borne out of a frustration with mommy? "Mean Glee" dictates that I might beat my head against a wall, repeatedly, if I had this woman for a mother.

Even weirder, is her obsession with Fritz Lang. Specifically, I found it interesting that she is enamored of the Lang character, Mabuse. Mabuse is a character created by and based on the novels of Norbert Jacques. He's a master of disguise, and his main goal is total anarchy against the state through perpetrating crimes such as Counterfeiting.

Interesting. The French meaning of "M'abuse" is to "abuse one's self." This woman is an analyst's dream patient!

From the research I conducted in college, when I wrote a paper on Fritz Lang, the character of Mabuse is one that is a master of disguise--a master of disguise that is clearly mentally ill. I believe in one of the films-- the Testament of Mabuse--he is seen in a mental institution, endlessly writing, while the director of the asylum conducts some seminar on split personalities.

Isn't the unconscious mind something? I mean, I wonder if this woman really realized the implications of selecting Mabuse as her personality icon for the blog? I mean, it would be like someone picking Charles Manson as their icon, because they liked "Helter Skelter" author, Vincent Bugliosi.

Personally, I enjoyed Lang's "M", but I don't think I'd use Peter Lorre's picture on my blog, with the character name, "Hans Beckert" as my nom de plume. It says a lot about the psyche.

Also, I read scads about Lang being approached by Josef Goebbels about a job within the Nazi party, as a filmmaker. I have no idea as to the validity of those claims, but oddly Lang made the Nazis quite uncomfortable with the political undertones of the Mabuse films.

This woman just posted about something related the Nazis. It was another odd post.

Given all of the above, it paints a really interesting picture of this woman and her need to ridicule others with whom she does not agree, concerning religion, church, God.

She is very skilled in "mean glee." How sad for her. I mean, as I did spend a few minutes of my precious time scanning over her drivel, she seems obsessed with visiting the blogs of those who happen to be lesbian, especially lesbian and Christian.

Hmmm...

I'm all for differing points of view, but this woman is going out of her way to try to get a rise out of my partner, or others she's gone after. It's not enough that she has to post Ann Coulter-ish attacks, concerning my partner's blog, but then she has to obsess about whether my partner is going to respond to her crap.

This is better than Must See TV!!! What a weirdo.

And even funnier is how she really thinks she's Ann Coulter. She tries really hard to have the edge, the uber"mean glee" of Coulter, but she doesn't come close. I don't agree with Ann Coulter, however I think she's incredibly intelligent and she often uses that intelligence to get a rise out of all Liberals.

Half the time, I think it's an act. She can be vile, but she's elevated it to an art form. This woman doesn't come close.

After a mere glance at her blogposts and profile, even a mail-order, diploma holding Psych grad could figure this one out.

The last step, before truly coming out of the closet, usually includes a lot of anger and vitriol toward gays and lesbians, along with an increase in rigid religious beliefs. If her posts are any indication, I'd say she's very closeted and frustrated about it.

Maybe a little "mean glee" is needed to get rid of blogstalkers, like this one. At the same time, I suppose I should have some compassion for a woman who is so lonely and angry, she has to stay online all day and obsess about those she knows nothing about.

Very odd woman indeed. Oh, I do hope she sees this and brings her minions here. I need the site traffic!!!

ATTICA! ATTICA!

2006-08-25T06:01:00.000-07:00

I realize that we are living in precarious and paranoid times, post 9/11.

If one looks hard enough, a gunman can be found in the most innocent of grassy knolls. Nothing brought this notion home to me more than my experience last week.

Currently, I am freelancing with a couple of a trade magazines and I had double deadlines last week.

This is for a trade journal that deals with gasoline companies and convenience stores, so I went back to the folks I interviewed and asked permission to take pictures of the outside facade of the gas stations.

Not a problem with the owner/managers. However, for the first picture, I was trying to get a picture of the gas station, along with the traffic coming off of the Interstate, next to the station.

To do that, I had to cross the street and stand at the corner of the Wachovia bank branch. It's on an elevated piece of sidewalk, in front of the bank parking lot. I'm 5'2, so the pre-made perch was perfect.

I snapped a few pictures of the BP, with my back facing the bank, and decided to get a different angle, so I moved to the McDonald's across the street (parallel with the Wachovia).

A few minutes into my picture taking, a cop car pulls up, with lights flashing.

He stops, rolls down the window and asks, "What are you DOING?"

Correct me if I am wrong, but when did it start to be against the law to take photographs in public areas? Maybe it is and I don't know it and maybe post 9/11 it really is not okay to do that anymore.

"I'm taking pictures of the BP station, right over there," I said, as I pointed to the BP station. He says, "Why?"

I reply, "Well, not that it matters, but I'm a freelance writer for a trade journal, and I am taking some pictures of gas stations...I interviewed the owner of that one, last week. He gave me permission to take pictures."

So he says, "Someone from Wachovia called and said you were taking pictures of the bank."

"No sir. I am not taking pictures of the bank," I reply.

"Can I see your credentials?" he says.

"Okay, I'm parked at the McDonalds up there, if you want to follow me, but I am not taking pictures of the Wachovia. I stood on that ledge, right there (pointing to it), because I'm 5'2, in order to get a good view of the BP and the traffic."

"First of all, you can cut the attitude," he says.

Oooh, consider whatever attitude cut, Mr. Jerkycop, as I picture myself in a cell with Big Betty.

"But they said you were taking pictures of the bank," he continues. Not that I wanted to, but because I feared this guy was really ready to haul me in, I offered a solution.

"Officer, this is a digital camera, and you can review any recent pictures taken. I'd be more than happy to show you what I took."

I push the review button, and show him all of the pictures of my cats, my plants outside on the back deck, and the pictures of the BP station. Hell yes. If he was going to force me to forego my personal rights, then he was going to see every boring picture on my camera.

"See? No bank pictures."

His own attitude changes from defensive to apologetic. "Ma'am sorry about that. I think, these days, people get nervous."

I told him I understood, but that I had no idea how anyone would think I was taking pictures of the bank, when my backside was to the bank, and I was not on their property.

I was so angry after that exchange, that I wanted to march into the Wachovia and find the twit that called the cops on me without even sending a representative out to ask me what I was doing. I wasn't on their property at all, either.

But I decided to calm down a bit, finish my deadline, and then go over to that Wachovia and talk with the manager. I understand that people are nervous these days, but instead of making up stories about what I was doing, someone could have just come out there and asked me, don't you think?

Last time I checked I didn't look like Osama.

In fairness, this is a highly conservative area, and I was wearing my tye dye T-shirt, shorts, loafers and my hair is long and in that "won't do anything" stage, so maybe the person watching me thought I was some threat to the bank. Maybe this person was creative enough to think I had a camera hidden in my buttocks, a la 'Get Smart.' My front side was certainly was facing toward the BP, as was my camera, not toward the bank.

I called that Wachovia branch, and I spoke with the manager. She feigned ignorance (imagine that?) and that she didn't know what I was talking about. But, oddly enough, after saying that she says the following:

"But what were you doing on MY property, anyway?"

Hmm...

I reply, "That's an odd question coming from someone who claims she knows nothing about the incident, yesterday."

She stuttered and stammered, which sort of clinched it for me.

I don't know if it's even worth pursuing with Wachovia, or if it even warrants any follow-up.

I have never been singled out, for whatever biased reasons, for questioning by police over a very innocent act. This gave me a very small view into what it must be like for minorities in this country. I felt that same sense of dread and fear that so many others have experienced just for the color of their skin, or whatever stereotype that caused someone to fabricate details of an innocent act. There was obviously something that made someone say, "she's a terrorist! she's a bank-robber!"

It made me think of how many African Americans are still routinely pulled over by a jerk cop, for no good reason other than the color of his skin.

You know you are innocent, but the police officer is already biased against you for whatever reason. It's a scary feeling. I felt myself trying to prove that I was really innocent, as if I was guilty. I wasn't.

Yes, for the most part, I appreciate police officers. For a salary that is usually below average, police officers put their lives on the line every day. But for every honest cop, there are egomaniacs who get off on intimidating others, just because they feel that they can.

Somethn' just ain't right...

2006-08-17T06:06:00.000-07:00

It's all over the news.

Some schlub has admitted to murdering JonBenet Ramsey.

Though part of me wants to finally take a sigh of relief over a conclusion to yet another collective nightmare--having your own child brutalized and murdered in your own home, has to be one of the worst things that any parent would be forced to live through--something just doesn't feel right about this arrest, to me.

Maybe I will be proven wrong, and this is the guy that really killed that little girl, but his arrest and confession sure seems calculated to me. As well, I find the timing of this revelation quite suspect too.

Do you think it's just a coincidence that only after Patsy Ramsey dies, suddenly there is this monumental break in a story that seemed to have no real ending?

Maybe it is. Maybe I'm too wrapped up in finding a 'gunman in the grassy knoll', but this seems to be all too neat, post-Patsy's death.

About a year or so ago, my partner and I watched a CBS 48 Hours special about the murder of JonBenet, and I do recall that a private investigator, who took on this case pro-bono, to satisfy his own curiosity, revealed that there was a footprint found inside the house, and outside the window (I am not sure on this, but this is what I vaguely remember) also.

Here is a link from People magazine, about the 48 Hours special:

http://people.aol.com/people/article/0,26334,1008739,00.html

Here's a better, more indepth look at the show:

http://cbs2chicago.com/topstories/topstories_story_352213930.html

Michael Tracey is the college professor to whom the alleged killer wrote and confided. But in the 48 hours special, he alluded to several possible suspects.

This guy traced the footprint to some day laborer, who had worked at the Ramsey home previously. I don't remember what the story said, but somehow he was connected to another person of interest in the case.

A pair of boots was found in this guy's house that matched the footprint found inside/outside the Ramsey home. Unfortunately, and strangely, the man killed himself before police could really delve into this.

So, now all of a sudden, two months after Patsy's death, a confession comes from some creepy looking guy, who moved to Thailand.

He confesses that he was "in love" with JonBenet, because she was a little beauty queen, etc., and it was a botched kidnapping. He didn't 'mean' to kill her.

In my heart, I truly hope that this is the guy that did it so both Patsy and JonBenet can finally rest in true peace.

But I sure hope we all find out just how this person knew exactly how much John Ramsey's company bonus was for 1996, in order to write a ransom note--a note that was written in what looks like Patsy Ramsey's handwriting.

As well, what about the writing tablet that was found, with a practice ransom note? I guess we need two things to really confirm this is the guy: DNA testing, and confirmation that he was either living in Boulder, CO, in 1996, or records that he was even in town--airline records, phone records, etc.--during the time of her murder.

I haven't read that much on all of the theories surrounding this case, but I do remember reading about John Ramsey's company Access Graphics being bought out by Lockheed Martin. Allegedly, from some of the information I read, Lockheed Martin has been involved with some pretty weird, underworld things.

And I do recall that there was some allegation that kiddie porn was found on Access Graphics computers.

I don't know. The fact that this little girl was dolled up to look like some come-hither 20-year-old is just plain creepy to me in general.

All of these things just make me a little too unsure of this big arrest. It all seems so orchestrated and timed perfectly, two months after Patsy Ramsey dies.

My hope is that this is the guy that truly did it, and we'll find out how he did it, why he did it, how he knew the Ramseys, etc.

Think about it though. The alleged murderer spent a lot of time in the US, after the killing of Jon Benet, and even started writing a book about it all. How could it take this guy going to Bangkok, living within the porn district there, for our police system to suddenly know that this is their guy?

I want to feel relief that the mystery is finally solved, and that we can all move on from the nightmare, but in the pit of my stomach, I think something is wrong.

It's like my grandmother from South Georgia used to say, "Somethin' just ain't right" about this whole thing.

I'd love to hear any comments about your theories, or if you think this is truly the end of this story.

Elvis

2006-08-16T06:40:00.000-07:00

Go around the world and even in the most remote parts, say the name, "Elvis."

The reaction is usually the same. They'll repeat his name a few times, especially if you are wearing a T-shirt with E's picture on it. Then, they smile.

Maybe missionaries who wanted to spread the 'Good Word' to every corner of the world, should have used Elvis as their ambassador.

It was 29 years ago today that I was a 12-year-old kid, sitting with my next door neighbors, Larry and Nita McCrary, holding one of Larry's various Gibson electric guitars. The particular one I was holding was one of those old, big bodied jobs.

I don't know the make or model, but it looked like the one Elvis used in the '68 Comeback special.

Put it to you this way: It was bigger and taller than me.

My little hands and short arms tried desperately to wrap around the big, electric twang box, because I was determined to learn "Heartbreak Hotel."

Larry played in a Country Western band on the weekends, and he had a plethora (love that word) of gee-tars, including a steel guitar, a couple of Fender Strats, a Telecaster and those few Gibsons.

Two years earlier, I begged my mother for guitar lessons. She finally relented, and I was one of the youngest pickers at Bert's Guitar Shop on Memorial Drive in Stone Mountain. Bert built and customized guitars for a bunch of folks that I didn't even know, at that time.

I actually met members of the Dixie Dregs and various musicians that played for local and national bands like Marshall Tucker, etc. It meant nothing to me, at the time, because I didn't listen to them.

My musical tastes, in 1977, consisted of Barry Manilow, Bee Gees, Andy Gibb, Sean Cassidy, and whatever else was playing on mainstream radio....ick, it makes me cringe just thinking about it.

I digress.

Larry would allow me to come over to his house, hold his guitars, play them, because I always treated those instruments--and Larry--with respect.

My first taste of Elvis came through my dad. In many ways, my dad's upbringing mirrored Elvis. Both country boys--my dad was born and raised in Metter, GA--who came from very humble beginnings, both with dominant mothers, passive fathers, and a destiny to get out of the small town and onto bigger things.

Dad had the Elvis Aloha from Hawaii soundtrack, Elvis Gold Records volume 3, as well as a copy of the album, Burning Love. I had listened to them, with my dad, a few times and I had listened to Elvis, as I rode along with my dad on Saturday afternoon errand runs.

But it wasn't until I was 12 and in the 7th grade that I truly wanted to know who this Elvis guy really was.

Larry had been telling me about Elvis, and he'd been playing a version of Heartbreak Hotel that I really wanted to master. I had not heard the original, but the way Larry was playing the tune, it sounded really great.

On this day--August 16, 1977--Larry and his wife were telling me all about who Elvis was and how big he was, when they were kids.

What happened next I will never forget as long as I live. Larry was playing an old Elvis album, and I was hearing Don't Be Cruel for the first time. As well, I was showing them that I figured out "Marie's the Name of His Latest Flame" on the guitar, because it used the easy G chord and the E minor chord.

Through the oral history that Larry and Nita shared with me, I was sensing that Elvis was something big, and rightly so.

I promise what happened next is not some James Frey fabrication. This truly happened.

We were talking about Elvis, and I remember looking at Larry and saying, "Wow, I bet people will freak out whenever he dies," and Larry said, "He's still pretty young, so hopefully we won't have to worry about that for a while."

At 12, someone in their 40's is pretty old.

All of a sudden, I heard my brother outside the McCrary's living room window--which was open--yelling for me.

Angrily, I went to the window. See, my older brother had a way of always being in my business, or listening to my conversations, so he could run and get me in trouble over anything. I thought this was one of those times.

He said, 'Elvis is dead.' I said, "David, shut up and go home. You've been standing out there listening haven't you?"

He said, "No, I'm serious. Elvis just died. They said it on the news." I looked at him, sort of shocked, and I came back and said, "Larry, my brother just said Elvis died."

Larry said, "Are you sure he's not just pulling your leg?" And I said, "No, he said it was on the news."

Me, Larry and Nita turned on the TV, and there it was scrawling across the bottom of the screen. "Elvis Presley Dead at 42."

We were all stunned, and even more stunned that we had been sitting, minutes before, playing his music, talking all about Elvis, and I made the comment about his death.

All I could do is go home.

I sat glued to the TV for information, and as word spread, I really got the sense that this man was something big in America, and had made an impression on people of very age.

I can remember talking about it at church, in my youth group, and our youth leader getting upset. He told us, "The only king is Jesus." That made absolutely no sense to me.

My big memory was watching this special on Elvis, hosted by Charles Kuralt, that was hastily put together right after his death. I learned all about Elvis's youth, his Vegas years, the Comeback, Priscilla, Lisa Marie.

I felt the same sense of loss that others seemed to feel, but I was just truly getting to know who Elvis was and his impact on our culture. I just remember sobbing, after that show. As usual, my dad didn't understand. "Why is she crying?" he said to my mom.

In one of my mother's rare nurturing moments, she held me and let me cry. I truly can't tell you why it moved me so much, because I hardly knew who he was. But I sensed that someone great had gone, and I sensed it was a sad death.

Watching the news footage of those white limousines and the throngs of fans in Memphis never left me.

When school started that year, we were asked to do a book report. I decided to read the only book that had come out, at that time, about Elvis. "Elvis What Happened?" Yeah, great fare for a 12-year-old to read, but I hardly comprehended the whole thing. What I looked forward to was giving the book report.

We had to give oral book reports. I already knew what I would do to get an A. I often tell my mother, "Like you didn't know I was an 'outdoor-sy girl', then?" when we talk about how I became Elvis for the book report.

See, I wasn't one of those girls that fell in love with Elvis and fantasized about being his date, or lover. Nope. I wanted TO BE Elvis. He was the coolest, and I knew it. I wanted to dress like him, I wanted my hair like his. I wanted to sing like him, move like him, maybe be his little sister, but not his girlfriend.

That's what I did. I slicked my hair into a makeshift Ducktail, wore my brother's old tuxedo jacket, a white ruffled shirt from my mom, black pants, and my mother's white 'Go-Go' boots (I kid you not).

The fact that I did not get beat up, or shunned is a miracle.

I slung my guitar over my neck, and I was ready to be 'Elvis.' When I got up to give my book report, I did my best Elvis impersonation, trying to stammer and slur my words like he did, while I described the book, etc.

Then, I tried my best to sing Heartbreak Hotel, as I had finally learned the dreaded F chord. I re-created every move I had seen Elvis make in that CBS special, and I do remember I really got into character.

Looking back, it must have taken my teacher a lot of effort not to laugh, but I know she appreciated the creativity. When I finished, the whole class clapped, I received an A, and I was asked to recreate this for three other classes. Looking back, was that good or bad?

Of course, when you are that young and innocent, you don't understand when older kids call you 'gay.' I had no idea what 'gay' meant. But here I was in my first drag show!!!!

The thing was this. It was innocent, and I truly adored the Elvis I had gotten to know far too late. Those growing up in the early 60's can remember exactly what they were doing when JFK was shot, when MLK and RFK were shot.

For my generation, it was Elvis' death that is remembered with such clarity. Over the years, my love and understanding of who he was has only grown. I truly think he was much too sensitive for this world, and after all I have read about him, what comes across to me is that he was a very sensitive, lonely, man with a great gift he had been given.

Psychologically? Yeah, no doubt he was pretty messed up. A little too close to 'mama' for my comfort, and toward his tragic end, from all accounts it was pretty pathetic. His interpersonal relationships with women were at bit, well, odd. He sure had a temper, and I'd have to say that he may have flirted with being manic depressive.

What was great was his sense of humor. If you watch some of the concert footage, rehearsal footage from "Elvis That's the Way It Is," or if you listen to some recordings taken from concerts, he had a tremendous sense of humor that was really deep and off-the-wall. And what can you say that hasn't been said about the man's voice?

He also had one of the best concert bands in history. James Lee Burton, Ronnie Tutt, etc. Need I say more?

At the same time, I so identify with his wanting to give as much as he could to others, never worrying about what he got in return.

Think of all of the "Elvis just handed me the keys to a Caddy," lines from some blue-collar or down-on-their luck person, to whom Elvis just happened to interact. He gave so much to so many, most of them he did not know.

Look at pictures of him and focus on his eyes, but more than that look at his hands. Long, sensitive and expressive hands. It says a lot about the guy.

He truly believed in respecting your elders, and his loyalty was admirable, but many times misplaced. Colonel Tom had way too much control of Elvis, but being the good southern boy that he was, he could never stand up to him.

I've read, recently, that maybe the reason he didn't stand up to him has to do with dirt Colonel Tom had on his boy, Elvis. Maybe so. I have no idea about that.

But as you can see from his last concert ever televised, this was a very tired man, with substance abuse problems, who sought to numb himself out from the pain of losing his mother, the pain of being lonely, the pain of fame, and the fame of being trapped as 'Elvis.'

Don't get me wrong. I have made several jokes about Elvis, and after I gained weight, I kept telling my partner, "God, I hope you don't find me on the crapper like Elvis." I also am amazed and love the whole kitsch thing that surrounds Elvis. It's amazing to watch. Most of his films were laughable, but there were a few gems. To me, King Creole is the best. Check it out, when it shows upon AMC or TCM soon.

Yes, I admit--and I am proud of it--that I have a framed Velvet Elvis hanging in the guest bedroom that we have dubbed "The Dead Celebrity Room."

I often do a 'What If' when I thinking about Elvis.

What if Elvis had actually gotten off the drugs at a Betty Ford Center?

What if Elvis began psychotherapy, with a qualified therapist?

What if Elvis became the spokesperson for Jenny Craig?

What if Elvis did Infomercials?

What if Elvis ended up on Regis and Kelly show?

What if Elvis had told the Colonel goodbye, and taken charge of his own career?

Hell, maybe Elvis would have played JR on "Dallas," played the Kris Kristofferson role in Star is Born, or made cameo appearances in some big films.

It's a game I often play, when I'm feeling creative or silly. It's because I miss the guy, and I wish I had been able to know him on a personal level, away from 'Elvis the Image.'

Of course, there are many who say he isn't dead. I love a good mystery, and it would be so choice if he did show up, next year, in Memphis on the big 30th Anniversary.

Hey, wait, I think I saw him at the DQ, downin' a Dilly Bar. I swear!

Black Velvet
Alannah Myles

Mississippi in the middle of a dry spell
Jimmy Rogers on the Victrola up high
Mama's dancin' with baby on her shoulder
The sun is settin' like molasses in the sky
The boy could sing, knew how to move, everything
Always wanting more, he'd leave you longing for

Chorus:
Black velvet and that little boy's smile
Black velvet with that slow southern style
A new religion that'll bring ya to your knees
Black velvet if you please

Up in Memphis the music's like a heatwave
White lightening, bound to drive you wild
Mama's baby's in the heart of every school girl
"Love me tender" leaves 'em cryin' in the aisle
The way he moved, it was a sin, so sweet and true
Always wanting more, he'd leave you longing for

chorus

Every word of every song that he sang was for you
In a flash he was gone, it happened so soon, what could
you do?

(Solo)

chorus repeats 2x

If you please, if you please, if you please

We sure could use a little good news

2006-08-06T08:28:00.000-07:00

I admit that in a lot of ways, I'm very jaded and cynical about the world we live in. I, along with millions of other sane people, lost a lot of hope when George Bush stole the 2000 and 2004 elections.

As many credible authors such as Vicnent Bugliosi and Alan Dershowitz, along with dozens of others including Greg Palast have noted, the Supreme Court gave Georgie his crown in 2000. Al Gore should have been president, and if he had been president, I'm wondering whether there would be such inane slaughter in Iraq, or whether America would be the laughing-stock that it is within the world community.

And never have the words, "Hey children what's that sound, everybody look what's goin' down," meant more to me than when the stealing of Ohio votes in 2004 to place, in order for King Georgie to keep his throne.

And it's not that most of us who bother to read alternative sources for our news, instead of the pabulum that spews from the corporate owned newspapers and TV networks, don't know this happened. We all do. It's that no major news outlet will even attempt to make the assertions and back them up with the cold, hard facts that statesmen like Rep. John Conyers (D--Michigan) have already done.

Again, I tip my hat to Gore Vidal and reporter, David Barsamian from The Progressive for such an insightful article concerning the real 'state of the union.' Here is another brilliant quote from Vidal:

"Conyers is the ranking Democrat on the Judiciary Committee, and he went up there with a bunch of researchers. They went from district to district, and they found out how the election was stolen. He wrote a report that was published by a small press in Chicago. To help out, I said I’d write a preface for him on how the election was stolen. We were thinking that might help. But The New York Times and The Washington Post were not going to review the book about how we had a second presidential election stolen. They weren’t going to admit it."

If that is not depressing enough, think of all of the innocent Iraqi citizens who are being blown away in the name of 'democracy;' Think of how we basically took a stick to the hornet's nest of different religious/political factions and sects within the Muslim country. With our usual hubris, we pronounced "mission accomplished" way before troops even stayed a week in Baghdad.

The only mission we accomplished was getting rid of Sadaam Hussein, however we all know that there are no WMDs, and that Hussein was nothing more than a saber rattler. Yes, he was a brutal dictator, and the mass graves that are being uncovered prove it. I don't disagree that he was a tyrant, along with is brain damaged sons, but don't you think it's awfully interesting that this administration picks and chooses what vile dictator needs to be overthrown?

There are several brutal dictators in power as we speak, across the globe, with atrocities far greater than those perpetrated by Hussein. We all know deep down, why King Georgie picked Iraq. And I'm sure the owners of Haliburton thank him so much for his true 'bravery' in standing up against 'tarr-er-ists.'

So, the body bags pile up on each side. There is no end in sight, and most high-level officials are saying that it will probably take about 6-10 years to reasonably end this conflict. As much as I believe we should have never been there in the first place, it is too late to just 'pull out' of Iraq. The damage is already done. King Georgie has seen to that. We leave now, and the instability will cause tsunami-like waves of instability throughout the whole region.

We are feeling the first waves with Iraq and the Israel/Lebanon conflict, and if King Georgie has his way, we'll just hop, skip and jump over to Iran, also. Don't even start with me, concerning writing about the current economy, including how our debt has far exceeded the surplus that Bill Clinton left us when he vacated the White House. If we are not careful, we might all be tattooed with "Made in China" in the near future.

Add to that, what we are finding out about how the US doesn't feel the need to abide by Geneva Convention rules at all. Not at Gitmo, or in Abu Grahib, nor anywhere, really. Now, we've even recruited members of the APA, for psychological torture and interrogation.

What this means, domestically, is that bit by bit our rights are being stripped. There is nothing patriotic about the Patriot Act I and II. Right now, if martial law was enacted, or for whatever trumped up reason this government could have after tapping into your phone lines, federal agents could come take you in the middle of the night, with no warrant, and could hold you indefinitely. Ask Jose Padilla.

If the things I write don't upset you, or make you think about another time in history, maybe you are too numbed out on American Idol or Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes sightings to realize what is happening.

Without sounding like a whacked out survivalist, I do believe that we are headed down a scary path within this country, period. If there is another 9/11 incident, don't be surprised if martial law is enacted. Also, don't be surprised if many of us that are considered subversives, for simply reading 'Mother Jones' magazine, voting as a Democrat, or attending a rally in support of Cindy Sheehan, end up in American Gulags/concentration camps.

If you think it could never happen here, think again. Take a look at the following article:

http://www.rutherford.org/articles_db/commentary.asp?record_id=400

If I have to wake up to one more day of seeing innocent Lebanese and Israeli children killed or maimed, or one more young man or woman from our own armed forces blown away, I feel I might puke. When I start to think about what a mess 'the monkeys' have gotten is into at this point, it's enough to make me roll up into a fetal ball.

I keep telling my partner that soon she will have to unroll me out of the fetal ball every morning.

With that said, I'd like to post the lyrics to a great Anne Murray tune that I remember from 1984. What's so interesting and ironic is that in 1984, we were all talking about the fighting in Lebanon.

I remembered this song, and it is so fitting today, not only about war, but the price of gasoline, the bleak economy. I wrote an email to Ms. Murray, asking her to re-record this song, with updated lyric references. The song is called, "A Little Good News Today."

Read the lyrics. Powerful.

A Little Good News
Anne Murray
Written by Charles Black, Rory Bourke, and Thomas Rocco

Peaked at # 74 on the Pop chart in 1983 while hitting #1 on the Country chart

I rolled out this morning
Kids had the mornin' news show on
Bryant Gumbel was talkin' 'bout the fighting in Lebanon
Some senator was squawkin' 'bout the bad economy
It's gonna get worse you see, we need a change in policy

There's a local paper rolled up in a rubber band
One more sad story's one more than I can stand
Just once how I'd like to see the headline say
"Not much to print today, can't find nothin' bad to say", because

Nobody robbed a liquor store on the lower part of town
Nobody OD'ed, nobody burned a single buildin' down
Nobody fired a shot in anger, nobody had to die in vain
We sure could use a little good news today

I'll come home this evenin'
I'll bet that the news will be the same
Somebody takes a hostage, somebody steals a plane
How I wanna hear the anchor man talk about a county fair
And how we cleaned up the air, how everybody learned to care
Whoa, tell me

Nobody was assassinated in the whole Third World today
And in the streets of Ireland, all the children had to do was play
And everybody loves everybody in the good old USA
We sure could use a little good news today

Nobody robbed a liquor store on the lower part of town
Nobody OD'ed, nobody burned a single buildin' down
FADE
Nobody fired a shot in anger, nobody had to die in vain
We sure could use a little good news today

Also, read the lyrics from my buddy, singer/songwriter, Martha Ann Brooks. She's a semi-local writer, but I'm telling you she's got real talent. I feel she is on the cusp of being one of our more relevant and powerful singer/songwriters. She can warble a hardscrabble blues tune like you wouldn't believe, and then turn around and write/sing a poignant song about our men and women in the military that can really make you think.

It makes me think of Cindi and Patti, two women on a Web group we belong to. As soon as Cindi and Patti make a commitment to be together as partners, Patti was called to duty in Iraq. She returned with a severe case of PostTraumatic Stress Disorder. To top it all off, Hurricane Katrina destroyed their home. Now, our lovely government won't pay for Patti's much needed therapy. She's a veteran of this nutty war, and she served her country well. I am so reminded of Patti, when I listen to Martha Ann's song.

Martha Ann is really great, so I will frequently tout her here in any way I can. Check out her cool Web site, and if you are in the Chattanooga, TN/North Georgia area, look for her. You will not be disappointed.

Check out the song by Martha Ann. It's been voted as a top song about the war on Neil Young's Web site. I think that's awesome.

This will make you think and it will make you want to thank all of our soldiers in active duty and those who are veterans:

When Your Soldier Comes Back Home
© 2005 Martha Ann Brooks BMI

When your soldier comes back home
You will be happy
You want things to be like they were before
But your soldier has been forged through trial by fire
After all he lived through war
Be patient when you see he’s not the same
Your soldier’s changed

When your soldier comes back home
He will be different
He’ll think about those that gave their lives
He might be feelin guilty that he’s living
He will keep that guilt inside
It may show sometimes in things he’ll say and do
Please help him through

Chorus:

War is never over
For the ones who fought side by side
They are bruised and battered
The deepest wounds don’t show outside

You may think that time will heal
There is no healing
The days are like sandbags around him
But ghosts will not be held back by a wall
Bad memories always win
If you love him you must be the one who stays
You must be strong
When your soldier comes back home

Chorus:

War is never over
For the ones who fought side by side
They are bruised and battered
The deepest wounds don’t show outside

© 2005 Martha Ann Brooks BMI Published by Brux Music

The meaning of the title...

2006-07-29T11:38:00.000-07:00

Okay, maybe this should be my second post.

What in the hell does it mean? Well for the one person viewing my blog, I guess I should explain the deep title.

When I was a kid, no amount of cajoling, threatening of bodily harm, or pragmatic discussion would get me to actually get up off my ass and do my assigned chores around the house. Let's face it: I was a spoiled rotten, upper-middle-class kid. Well, that was part of it. The other part was the fact that dear ole' mumsy was a complete control freak, but that's another story for another post.

Therefore, my mother resorted to bribery and started paying me five dollars per week, if I would just empty trash cans and vacuum. In the 70's, that type of money was akin to being 'in' with Jimmy Hoffa, or at least pretending that you had information on where he disappeared to and why.

I must have been around 9 or 10, because I do believe that it was the same year that I told the pasty-faced, nasal voiced girl that lived next door that I knew for a fact that the "Black Panthers" were living in her basement.

Once I convincingly told her that I knew that these badass black dudes were indeed hiding out in her basement, she began to cry but she did go home. That was my intent. However, little did I know that hours later, her mother would appear at our door and summon my mother outside, so I couldn't hear the conversation.

However, I cracked the door and all I heard was my mother saying, "What? I don't know why she would say that...yes, I know who the Black Panthers are....well, do you really think your own daughter knows who they are?....I understand hold on a minute..."

My mother opened the door, which basically knocked me over, as I was eavesdropping. My mother helped me up, sort of half laughing and whispered, "Did you tell Ann that the Black Panthers were living in her basement?"

In that split second I had to decipher whether telling the truth was going to get me a slap or two, or whether my mom would be proud that I even knew who the Black Panthers were anyway.

Given the Margaret Hamilton-as-the-Wicked Witch of the West look my mom had, I figured I better fess up.

"Yeah, I told her...I just wanted her to go home." My mom tried very hard not to laugh and this was reflected in the fight her lips were having, because she wanted to really have a scowl on her face, but I could see the edges of her lips turning upward into a smile.

For appearances sake, sternness won out as she forced me to apologize to Ann's pasty faced, nasal sounding mother and to Ann, also.

My punishment was no TV for a week, and for someone who actually used a tape recorder to record every episode of Welcome Back Kotter, that was a big deal.

Okay, sorry for the synapse segue...

Back to me getting five dollars a week, for doing chores that I should have been doing in the first place.

Shielding my eyes from actual sunlight, as I was forced outside to actually play with the other kids, was a part of my withdrawal symptoms from not being able to burn my retinas watching everything from the Mike Douglas Show, re-runs of Leave it to Beaver, to Welcome Back Kotter, Happy Days, Laverne and Shirley, One Day at a Time, etc.

Oddly enough, my mother's own will to not have to do the mundane chores around the house, allowed me to still get my five dollars, even after scaring my predominately white neighborhood into thinking that Stokley Carmichael and Huey Newton might leap from their finished basements, like some broken black-jack-in-the-box, and proclaim that they were bought "by the man."

That weekend, my mother needed to go the pet store, and me and my two older brothers decided to tag along, for whatever reasons--probably because my dad was sitting around, getting drunk with "Bud," but I truly don't remember why we tagged along.

Pet stores are great places for kids, period. As usual, I ran right for the birds. The guy that ran the pet store had a Cockatoo, that looked like the one on the TV show, Baretta. I used to go and see what the bird would say, if anything.

This time, near the bird, I saw a one of those really ugly little monkeys. Not a cute, cuddly chimp, that you can hold like a baby, or watch on Saturday morning television--Anyone remember 'Lancelot Link-Secret Chimp?'-but the little "we'll use them for experiments" Rhesus monkey, that looks like an old man in the face-an old, mean man.

The type that run all over the streets of India, right in front of you. Hey, they are really cute when their dressed in some little gypsy outfit, performing with Grogan the Organ Grinder, or whatever, but close-up those monkeys freak me out.

But since there were bars separating me from him, and because I was such a weird kid, I thought it would be cool to taunt the little, ugly monkey.

My mother was purchasing a new leash for our dog, and who knows what my brothers were up to, but I suddenly got a brilliant idea.

See, here I was a nine-year-old, with five dollars, so I thought I ruled the world. I mean, I got in trouble for the "Black Panthers Incident," but here I was a mere five days later with a whole five bucks to spend!!

It was wrapped in a plastic baggie, and in my pants pocket. I reached in, took it out, and began waving it around, up and down, up and down, up and down and across. Over and over, as I watched the monkey's eyes go every whichway.

This sparked me even further to begin to do a little bump-and-grind dance with the plastic baggie, seductively waving the baggie over each shoulder, and then dangling it in front of the monkey. Then, I added some audio commentary. Sounding like a junior Peggy Lee, I began my song.

"Nah, nah, nah nah...look at my five dollars....you can't have it....nah, nah, nah nah nah...it's all mine...you can't get it..."

Yep, my five dollars. All mine. Poor, ugly little monkey couldn't get my five dollars.

For one, brief second, the monkey and I locked eyes. What happened next stands right up there with a viewing of the Zapruder film in slow motion.

With one fell swoop, as I was in the middle of another verse of "Look at my Five Dollars," the ugly little monkey's arm swiftly moved in between two of the bars of his monkey prison, yanked the baggie from my hands, and stuffed it in his mouth.

My reaction was in slow motion too, as I couldn't believe the baggie was now in this monkey's mouth.

I let out with a scream, and began to shriek, "THE MONKEY ATE MY FIVE DOLLARS! THE MONKEY ATE MY FIVE DOLLARS!"

I saw my mother, brothers and the owner--who was behind the cash register--all turn around to look at me.

I took off, tears streaming down my face, as my mother had that irritated look on her face. That, "Oh damn...don't embarrass me here!" look.

She said, "What happened?" And, with great dramatic flair, like a Shakespearean actor holding Hamlet's skull, I said, "I was waving the bag, in front of the monkey, and he just reached out and ATE MY FIVE DOLLARS."

Oh, the horror.

As the tears ran down my face, the owner said, "I'm so sorry. Here...take this," and he reached into the cash register, pulled another five dollar bill out, and proceeded to hand it to me.

Yes. He clearly felt my pain. I was just a kid, who meant no harm to his ugly monkey. Given that his fate might have been having instruments of death shoved up his butt, or being injected with cancer or whatever, I'm sure the owner didn't think what I did was so bad. Yeah, he knew that childhood was a fleeting gift, and I'd have so many years to learn the ugly lessons of life.

I eagerly went to reach for the peace offering and an arm intercepted the hand-off.

"Oh no. Thank you, sir, but no thank you," came the words from the Wicked Witch of the West.

She had 'that look,' as she stared at me.

"No, if she was dumb enough to taunt your monkey like that, with her five dollars in a baggie, then she doesn't deserve getting that money back."

Oh my God. There was the Zapruder-film impact shot.

The owner could feel my pain, as we locked eyes with each other.

My brothers, of course, were laughing the whole time, and as we got into the car, The Wicked Witch was spewing the whole time.

"How DUMB can you be? Brilliant. Just brilliant. Waving your money...wait, MY MONEY... in front of a monkey," she kept repeating.

"But mom, he was going to give me my money, and YOU stopped him," I wailed.

"Damn right I stopped him," she shot back.

We piled into the station wagon, me in the front seat, and my two brothers in the back. With this Greek chorus in the back, continuing to mimic me, in unison, by saying, "The monkey ate my five dollars," over and over, the witch continued her diatribe.

"You don't deserve to get that money back, period. If you can't take care of what you get, and a monkey can outsmart you, that sure doesn't say much for you, does it?"

Well, this was certainly not the way Michael Landon would handle this on "Little House on the Prairie," if poor Laura had done the same thing. And Tom Bradford, from "Eight is Enough," certainly would not call little Nicholas--I pick Nicholas, because I swear I look like Adam Rich, even moreso when the show was on the air--dumb.

But as the years have gone by, I have learned that my mother taught me a valuable lesson of life, by refusing to reimburse me for the five dollars.

Life is not fair, period. You do control your own actions, period. For every action, there is a reaction. Your whole life can change in the time it takes an ugly little rhesus monkey to eat your five dollars.

Throughout the years after this incident, when I was fired from my first full-time job out of college, when depression threatened to knock me down for good, when I got ripped off by employers, insurance companies, mechanics, when friends betrayed me, when that jerk in front of me is going way too slow, but speeds up so he can get through the light and I'm left with the red light, etc., I always say:

"Damn. The MONKEY ATE MY FIVE DOLLARS!" Lately, this statement has taken on a global meaning.

When I watched King George take over our country, not once, but twice, I yelled the phrase. When I watched the horror of Katrina, I yelled the phrase. When we invaded Iraq, I yelled the phrase over and over and over.

It pretty much covers any sucky occasion, so if you aren't a fan of the film, Network, or you want something new to yell out your window, to let the world know just how you feel, try "The Monkey Ate My Five Dollars."

With that said, I will close with a quote from one of my favorite writer/thinkers, Gore Vidal. In a recent interview with The Progressive magazine, here's what Vidal had to say about our glorious leader and monkeys:

"I was brought up in Washington. When you are brought up in a zoo, you know what's going on in the monkey house. You see a couple of monkeys loose and one is President and one is Vice President, you know it’s trouble. Monkeys make trouble."

Yep, Mr. Vidal. I can attest to that. Monkeys really do make trouble.

Cute Chimp--Lancelot Link

Ugly Monkey--Ate my five dollars

Bush Monkey--Continues to eat my five dollars

Lead Pipe Society: Linda Schrenko to room with Big Betty!

2006-07-18T10:13:00.000-07:00

My first inductee into the Lead Pipe Society is Linda Schrenko.

I will often have a title that will start with "The Lead Pipe Society." This is a special society, saved for those individuals with whom you wish you could have five minutes alone with them, in order to exact the punishment that might make you feel better. In no way am I advocating that someone truly use a lead pipe to exact revenge on anyone, and in no way do I endorse that sort of vigilante justice.

However, this is a good way to vent our frustrations. Some only need a few raps of the lead pipe, but others deserve a good whipping with one. OJ Simpson deserves a good whipping with one, as do any serial child molesters, etc., in my opinion. Politicians are in that category, also.

If you would like to nominate someone for "The Lead Pipe Society," please feel free to email me, and I will post it.

Back to the subject of my inagural post:

Today, Georgia is holding the 2006 Primary for several offices across the state, including the biggies: Governor and Lt. Governor.

My partner and I discussed whether we would even vote, as we still have PTSD over the first and second elections of our current President. (I can't even write his name, without needing a Phenagren), but we know that citizens from other countries like Sierra Leone, risk losing fingers, hands, arms just for attempting to voice their opinion during a vote. I have so much to say about the other reasons that we are bereft about even voting this year, but I'll save that for another post.

So, as I pressed my own index finger to the voting screen, this morning, I couldn't help thinking about Linda Schrenko.

Why did I nominate Ms. Schrenko for the Lead Pipe Society, you may ask?

Well, maybe because she ripped off students across the state of Georgia--most of whom think that Chernobyl is the latest perfume from Jessica Simpson--a state that is continually at the bottom of all education polls.

For those who aren't familiar with the current politics in the great state of Georgia, let me see if I can actually write a recap, without it sounding/reading like a dissertation by Earl Hamner at the end of an episode of The Waltons.

Linda Schrenko was elected as the state's school superindenent in 1994, becoming the first woman, and the first Republican, to hold that non-judicial office since Reconstruction. Whether I ever agreed with her politics, that was big step for women in this state.

She was re-elected in 1998, but decided to run for Governor in 2002.

I thought she was somewhat a loon, when she started pushing for creationism to be taught in Georgia schools, as well as when she battled appointed school boards just because they were Democratic appointees. Even better, she refused to speak to PTA groups, because she said they were too liberal.

But something stuck with the electorate, because they voted her into her position a second time. What I really remember, was her acrimonious relationship with Governor Roy Barnes, who was up for re-election in 2002. It was brutal.

Every time I looked at her, or when I saw her on TV, she was always wearing some waist-length mink coat. She just reminded me of some middle-aged, bored 'Lady who Lunches', whose picture you might see in the back of a really bad "Swingers" magazine.

The kind that would allow a naked Polaroid to be taken of her, wearing only the mink coat, with legs splayed wide open. But she'd make sure to blot out her privates, however had someone told her the truth, they would have blotted out her face, so more people would respond to the ad.

Harsh maybe, as I have been told that she is kind to animals--so was Hitler--having rescued Bassett Hounds, etc., but she came off as really cold, snooty and way too 'Bible'-thumpin' for my taste. The bad part was, at least for me, is that she railed against the GOP GOBs (Good Ole' Boys), here, and realized how sexist they were when it came to women in politics. Whether I agree with her politics, or not, she made strides for all women, by being elected to the same state-wide post twice.

To the surprise of Schrenko and Barnes (note to Barnes: Don't diss' teachers in an election year, and don't believe Republican businessmen), Sonny "Mah Flag" Perdue won the election, which ended the political life of Schrenko.

In 2004, Schrenko, who I feel portrayed herself as some sort of Maria Von Trapp for the state's school children, was indicted by a grand jury for supposedly embezzling over $600,000 from federal funds, some that were meant for deaf students.

What did she need that money for, anyway? It turns out she needed it for her 2002 bid for Governor, and...

A FREAKIN' FACE LIFT!

Yeah, who cares if the deaf kids need new schools, or new books? Who cares if students in rural counties were forced to bring their own toilet paper to school, because the school didn't have enough money to afford items such as that?

Linda needed the same embalming fluid used to preserve the corpse of Eva Peron, to give her that young, yet pinched look, and who better to pay for it than a bunch of deaf kids?!

It turns out this friend of the fundy conservatives, allegedly had an affair with her campaign manager, who helped Schrenky-dink funnel over $600,000 in education funds into payments to companies set up by Steven Boats, who performed no services for said payments.

At first, she pleaded 'not guilty' to the 22 counts of money laundering and fraud charges, but after her lover pleaded guilty to wire fraud and conspiracy charges, ole' Linda decided to sing like a canary about her co-defendants, and agreed to plead guilty to Fraud and Money Laundering, in exchange for an 8-year prison sentence.

After she asked U.S. Judge Clarence Cooper to be placed in a minimum security prison in Tallahassee, FL, Judge Cooper said the following:

"You're the reason the public confidence in the political process continues to erode," Cooper said. "Hopefully the sentence, and the humiliation you subjected yourself and your family to, will send a strong message to public officials on the state, local and national levels."

Cooper also ordered Schrenko to repay the state Department of Edcuation $414,887.50, and added three years of probation and 100 hours of community services.

But wait..there's more.

It looks like she's still going to get a pension from Georgia, which will give her enough money to pay back the state, and still have money to live a comfortable life when she gets out of prison.

So, let's see, I work as an independent contractor and I have to pay for my own health insurance at $521 a pop each month, but a convicted felon will receive a pension of around $3,000 to $5,000 per month.

I think Judge Cooper should have gone one step further:

He should have ordered Schrenko to do community service by visiting deaf schools around the state, and, using sign language, she must tell every student,

"Hi, I'm Linda Schrenko. I stole money from you, and all YOU got was this lousy facelift!"

I love it that some inane reporter asked her whether she was going to write a book, while in prison.

Yeah, how about this one, "The Children Couldn't Hear Me Laundering Money Anyway: The Linda Schrenko Story."

But, you know, if I were Linda, I'd sue the plastic surgeon who basically didn't do anything but use anesthesia for a couple of hours, then tell her she looked different. That's $9,500 she could return to the state.

Linda before facelift

Linda after facelift

Ms. Schrenko will be taking her own 'menstrual show' on the road, to a minimum security prison near you very soon, where I hope she rooms with a big ole' CEO disel dyke who will continually hide the toilet paper from her boney ass.

Thus, forcing Schrenky-dink to perform degrading acts of slammer sex on 'Big Betty' in order to be able to wipe her privates on a continual basis, or maybe in Linda's case, to be able to use a 7 Iron on the prison golf course, while 'Big Betty' continues to say, "What? I can't hear you?," when Schrenky-dink begs for tp.