Let's Just Get It Over with And Criminalize Stupidity

It is now, and always has been, a fact that the law, like our military, is always "fighting" the last crime. Sometimes the law gets smart and makes laws that cover an entire host of other crimes, somehow related to the broader law. An example of this is when the government couldn't keep up with all of the new drugs so they developed the "class" system and arrested people based upon which class the "offending drug" occupied. Also, Driving While Drinking was changed to Driving Under the Influence which covered drugs as well as booze.

Too often there is no specific law against certain behavior. Who would think that we would need a law against getting drunk, going to the police station and mooning the cops as they come and go? But our justice system created a few laws covering such disturbing of the  peace, indecent exposure and a few more, I am sure of that. They even wisely created some very broad laws covering mob activity (the RICO Act is the best example). Also, you can't set up shop outside of a church and perform your own Gallagher act (disturbing the peace) and you would certainly get arrested should you decide to dress up like a chicken and stand in front of KFC shouting "They killed my brother!"

When the government started passing statutes against smoking, I knew that we, as a society, had crossed the Rubicon. There is no turning back now, the government had set the precedent for becoming a nanny state. The changes aren't coming too quickly or terribly noticeably (outside of New York City), we would never allow that...but a government that takes over your personal life does it slowly, and "for our own good".

It certainly IS against the law to drink and drive. Now many states are making it illegal to chat on the phone and drive, something I never do because I hate cell phones and I refuse to own one. It irritates my kids who  want to get in touch with me and it annoyed a nutty guy I dated (briefly) because he saw my refusal to carry a cell phone as evidence that I had something to hide. That's how much it bugged him that he didn't have access to that potential treasure trove of personal information. That, of course, has nothing to do with the fact that I refuse to have a cell phone. It's mainly because I resist change.

Also, I hate talking on the phone anyway, why would I want to carry one around with me? It'd be different if I were a cop, a doctor or Prince Charles, but I'm not. If I don't know how to operate the simplest of  cell phones, I certainly can't text so you would never catch me so much as attempting to text and walk. I would, more likely, be talking to the nearest stranger polite enough to help an old lady text a message. Even if I knew how to text and walk, I wouldn't do it. What could be so important? This is a video that shows what would happen to me should I try to do something so stupid, it's the kind of luck I have:






Now, perhaps some of you are guilty of texting while walking. I can forgive you for the past. But, if you should  fall off of a cliff texting while walking after viewing this video, I told you so. The cops want to call it walking while distracted. That's not broad enough. With what would you charge a skinhead walking up and down the sidewalk in front of the White House while reading 'Catcher in the Rye'?

I think it's time to simply outlaw stupidity.

Another Note to my Son's Sister About Their Father

I've been meaning to get back to you with a story I was thinking about. It's a pretty funny story but my telling of it cannot possibly do it justice. At the time, I laughed and laughed and laughed.

William was born on a Sunday and I went home from the hospital on Wednesday. My father flew in to Frisco from Chicago Wednesday night and since William had some jaundice, I had to take him to  the doctor on Thursday. Your Dad, my Dad and I took William to the doctor and when we did, we stopped at some Denny's type diner. My father had never been to California before that and he is quite the numismatist and since he was in a city with a US mint in it, while we were finishing breakfast my father asked John if he knew where the mint was. John replied, "Yeah, they're on the counter by the cash register."

My Dad and I looked at each other and he smiled. I, on the other hand, started laughing until I had tears in my eyes. My father was kicking me under the table in an effort to get me to stop laughing at my new husband but to no avail. I think I told you that he wasn't the sharpest dart in the box.

I told you that he wanted to be a cop. Well, he had to write an essay saying why he wanted to be a cop. I've always enjoyed writing so I tried to help him write it. When I asked him for some hints so that I could get started, he actually said that he wanted to be  a cop because of the shoot-outs and high speed chases. I wrote an essay that got him in the program but he screwed it up by getting arrested for stealing from his job.

More later!

It won't help

What about an article on these new websites for divorced parents ? such as *******.com this one is making the news and I'd like to know your point about it. I subscribed few days ago with my ex to manage all the stuff concerning our children (custody schedule, shared expenses...) and seems easy to use and pretty useful.
Cheers 


Lately I've had a lot of comments like this one. It's a slightly veiled attempt at advertising on my blog. If you were a friend of mine, I would be happy to post a link to your web site. But, other than that, people pay me to post links on this thing. They don't pay much, but they are happy to do it because I am doing them a service by posting their links. Email me at megkelsobroderick@gmail.com and we can discuss your site. 

I recently came into contact with my first husband's daughter, a lovely woman with a child of her own. She is my son's sister so  I'm happy to get to know her. In our chatting, I offered to write a few things about her father to her. This is the first email I sent, I'll be adding the next one today after I finish writing it. Anyway, here is a bit about my first husband, the one who died awhile back:

First let me say that if you were NOT an adult, I would not be telling you any of  this. Not that there's anything TOO crazy but simply out of respect for your mother and anyone else who may have helped raise you. They are your family and you owe them respect for being there for you. I was lucky in that I met a man who was more than happy to raise William as his own and there was a wonderful family who came with that man, to this day, they treat William the same as they treat my kids that are their blood relations. I hope you had something similar. Also, I'm not going to rag on your father, I may tell you funny stories about him where he ends up looking stupid but it is what it is and I only tell you so that you might have something in your mind as you try to picture your dad which is a natural thing for you to do. This past Father's Day, I actually seriously considered writing this to you so that you might have someone to imagine on Father's Days. But, I decided it was too much at the time. I'm happy to do it now.

Now let me say this, it is not hard to believe your mother and older siblings. I didn't stick around long enough for abuse and dishonesty to become a habit, but the potential was there. As I said, he wasn't all bad, few people are. Had I not been aware of your mom, I could have chalked it all up to immaturity, we were 18 and 19 when we got married and 19 and 20 when we became parents. I was born in June of '58 and he was born in March of '57 if memory serves. 

Now, a few things you may or may not know. Your Grandmother Jeanine (John's  mom) is a wonderful person. I made her a grandmother at age 34 since she had John when she was 16. She had him with John Joseph Cardis Jr. Your dad was the third. She has 3 other kids with her second husband, your Aunt Lisa, Uncle Danny and Uncle Matt. They are great people and although they were very young when I lived there, they acted like normal people who loved their nephew, William. They would have adored you if they had been given a chance. Remember, John deserted them too so they have their own issues wondering what they did which is so sad because they ARE good people and it was all John, not them, who caused the rift that cost a family their son, brother, father and friend. He deserted everybody who ever cared about him, not  just his kids. 

John's father left when John was very little and he only saw him once after that, when your Dad was 12. Then, being a sweet and naive little wife, in 1978 I found John's father living in Palo Alto with his wife Maxine (She was cool.) and their baby, your Aunt Lauren. William was about 3 months old and Lauren was 14 months old at the time. They ran a coffee shop back in the days before people wanted to spend 5 bucks on a cuppa. Your father suffered greatly from his father's absence so it truly surprised me that he was so fast to walk away from his own kids. But I can tell you, he felt pain over the "loss" of his own father. He had no fathering skills for you because no one had any for him. 

I met John at a bowling alley in Petaluma Ca. which is where he grew up and went to high school. When I met him, he had just gotten out of the Marines. He said that he got out for "beating up a drill sergeant". At some point I learned that he had gotten out on a section eight. He must have had an honorable discharge of some sort because he went to school on the VA bill and worked when we were married. He wanted to be a cop. Odd, he hated authority yet he wanted to BE the authority. (Ask me someday and I'll  tell you how a young girl from the suburbs of Chicago found herself in the town where they filmed American Graffiti.) I was at the Petaluma Bowling Alley. I was there with my cousin John and his wife, Annie. Annie's brother Roland was there with his date and that chick knew your dad  from high school. Unbeknownst to me, your dad had asked Roland's date for an introduction to me. She was one of those chicks who actually competes for the attention of ALL the men in her realm so she declined his request. Until, that is, Roland started talking to the only other person there...me. That, and that alone, forced her hand. She went down the alley and brought your father back with him. We were pretty inseparable then for the next 10 days. We met on a Saturday night and ten days later, on a Monday, we were making out, all hot and heavy. He really, really wanted to have sex but Nature pretty much gave US the key to the gate and you shouldn't give out too many of those so I said "Nope...not until I'm married."

He responded, "Well, Reno's only 4 hours away." We hit the road and never looked back. Well, actually when we got to Sacramento we had to turn around and DRIVE back because I had forgotten my birth certificate. Like an idiot, I didn't recognize the warning sign. C'est la vie. Eight hours after we started out, we arrived at the scene of our Reno wedding, I think the place was called The Little White Chapel. As it turned out, it's a good thing I did it that way because I'm pretty sure that I conceived William on my wedding night...in the back of your father's fire engine red station wagon. He was so proud of his big red car that it was almost humorous. I'm sort of NOT STUPID and I have a wicked sense of humor so I would end up laughing and laughing and laughing. Today he wouldn't appeal to me, too short, but back then I didn't appreciate height. But he was a pretty short boy, I shit you not. 

I can tell you all sorts of stories and I will. I just spent my morning writing this and I enjoyed it. I look forward to sending you more. Also, I did write about your dad on the blog so I might could find you some links to stories I've already mentioned so they're ripe for you...I told the stories without any bias so you should get a better point of view.

Check out my grandson...

...his parents want him to say "hello" but I am simply amazed at

how able this little guy is. 

My grandson was born one arm down. But the arm he does have does a helluva job all by itself!!!

In My Country...

...things would be American-ISH...but with a few tweaks. One change would be:

Old people would only be able to drive vehicles painted conspicuously. My first thought is blaze orange. But that could be a tad too harsh for the Paris Hilton's of the world. We would simply save ALL neon car paint for old people. These cars would also glow the dark because, for some reason, old  people don't seem to care if the lights are on or not. Hell, they don't care if they get arrested. What can you do to these people? They've survived every disaster, man made or otherwise, for the better part of the last 100 years. A night in the slammer won't really bother them...and Lord knows they don't mind the placement of the crapper. I'm not saying the cells are hellholes, let's just say it's obvious the architects didn't consider feng-shei when designing them.

For most of my life, my father remained the only person who could drive a car that I could fall asleep in. With everyone else, I remain awake, alert and animated. I never even married a guy whose driving I trusted enough to curl up and sleep. Besides being too afraid that I would sleep through a fatal crash, SOMEONE needed to navigate.

I can't say for sure but if you go by the men I've married (and now, sadly, my father) you would come to the conclusion that the interstate system and a map are like some hieroglyphic rock. I'm simply the one genius who gets it. I've driven, alone or with someone else, across the country four times, I lived in Frisco AND L.A., I've driven the part of the  country east of the Mississippi so many times I've long ago lost count. But no matter how old I get or how many years go by with more country-crossing, I have always been and still remain the ONLY person in a car that can navigate this country. 100% of the time, it is I people rely on when driving 1,000 miles in any directions.

I can easily get to one city from another without a map because I grasp the interstate system. I only use maps for the insets, I might not know how to get around Key West...but I could get  there from anywhere in the country. My poor old father can't even orient himself to the water. About a billion years ago, he grew up in a small resort town in New Jersey. To him, the water was always east. Also, when we lived for decades in the Chicago area, the water was east. But here, it's to the west. It's an easy adjustment, that is until you start to need a neon colored car. After 10 years of Florida retirement, that man cannot orient himself because his brain wants to be on the other coast.

He's at that age where he can still say his insurance hasn't suffered. But, triple pictures of his car running red lights come, by mail, to his retirement community. Also, I've been in the car with him. Once again, I don't want to be cruel so I'll just say this, I'll never sleep in the car with him driving...ever again. Anyway, as of yet, he hasn't hit anything but I trust that to continue like I trust a pit bull...I think he's OK, but I'm not taking any chances.

On My Laziest Computer Days...

...I manage to, at the very least, catch up on my Words With Friends games. So much stupid stuff has been happening that I don't seem to be able to put my life back on any schedule...and I  was just getting settled into one of those life schedules when I was smacked with my last health concern...and now it's even harder to get back on track.  So, my Words games are suffering as is, obviously, my blog. I really enjoy playing Words and this blog is very important to me and when they suffer, it's because, in some way, I am suffering too.

One day back in '05 or '06 my son wanted something from me. It was something boring like the ironing board. I happened to be writing something for the blog and whatever it was that he had asked, my answer wasn't good  enough for him so he struck out verbally, like only a kid can, and said, "All you care about is that stupid blog!!!"

Now, at that time, I was pushing 50 and my son was pushing 30. Any responsibility that I had regarding his personal business, had long ago evaporated. I owed him what I owe you, the respect you give another human being.

I adore my children, I'm very proud of them and I stare, in awe, at these wonderful young adults that I made. But I also like myself and I'm a relatively bright woman so when my wonderful son made that manipulative comment, I owed him a straight up retort. I responded thusly:

"So what if it is?"

That shut his mouth quickly and firmly. I could have worshiped at his feet to prove that he was wrong and that I did, indeed, care more about him than I did my blog but his assertion was just so stupid that I wouldn't even address it. He made the comment with the intent of manipulating me into getting away from my desk and helping him in his search for whatever he wanted that day. All he got was a jaw dropper.

At that time, the blog was more than fun, it's was totally cathartic. Anyone who's read this thing in the beginning knows that. I would wake up, brush my teeth, get a cuppa, feed my animals and sit at my desk, every single morning. I needed this thing back then. Now I  just like it and enjoy it.

So, this morning I woke up thinking about my first husband, the one who died. I don't know why I had him on my mind, I rarely do. But on my mind he was. I have to give it to him, between my son and John's younger kids, they're all really great kids. I don't know where that comes from and I can't get this morning's thought out of my mind...it's like having a song stuck in your  head. Once I had 'Blinded by the Light' stuck in my head and the only way I  could get it out of my mind was to replace it. So...like an idiot, I went with the first song that came into my mind...'Down in the Boondocks'. Today I'm choosing something cool to think about...I think I'll mentally design the homes that I'll build after I win the lottery. These are nice houses, I'll have to wait for one of those quarter billion dollar jackpots.

Well, it's actually pouring down rain outside and totally ruining any thoughts of a nice, sunny day in Florida. The atmosphere is the same as an overcast fall Sunday when I was a kid. We'd watch whatever movie was on Family Classics and then we'd all read our own piece of the paper...I would get the comics. Today I'll spend the day with the remote.

Somebody talk to me...give me an idea of something to talk about...my own life is too boring right now.

:):):)

Even a nice dog would do...

...but I gotta tell ya, after 7  years, this divorce crap is growing old. I've avoided really close relationships like the plaque...and I was good with that. Now I'd like someone who I can tolerate around just to say stupid shit to. This isn't tough, I don't expect a prince on a white stallion to come and sweep me away but a redneck in a pick-up shouldn't be too much to ask,don't you think?

I've had some off the wall pain in the left side of my gut but I'm treating it with Christian's Scientist-ism because it'ever so much cheaper than other health plans. With all the talk about health care, you'd think  I could get required treatment...but NOOOOOO. Whatever.

I'd hate to find out that I had a belly problem because whatever it is, they seem to enjoy slicing you up to fix it. And even if it's a little bitty cut, it's gonna hurt like an SOB after it's over. The bigger the slicing, the more it hurts. And there's nothing you can do to make it hurt less except walk around and who wants to walk around with a recently sewed up hole in your belly?

And then...need I say it? Tubes. God know what they all are or why they're there. They have tubes going into your chest which implies validly that there is a hole in your chest. Oh! I almost forgot the facetiously named Go-Lightly. A gallon of liquid, pink chalk that they lie to you about. They tell you that you need to drink it all but they taught us in school that you DID NOT have to finish the disgusting bottle of icky stuff I don't even want to think about! So, I have taken it upon myself to annoy doctors and nurses everywhere by letting you in on a little medical secret...You do NOT have to suck down every last drop of that crud. If you manage to down 3 quarters of it, you've done more than enough...I assure you.

Being left sided pain, I'm left with 2 options, my G.I. system or my Renal system. Those are 2 systems that I am really using a lot so I'd like to keep things moving along in there, ya know? Oh, and God forbid it should be kidney stones...I have no reason NOT to expect them, I've had every other painful but relatively harmful disorder you can name...and a few you can't.

Anyway, I've felt like shit lately so if I should suddenly disappear, you know why. Now I've committed myself to at least popping in to say I'm OK, haven't I?

I Was Telling My Son...

...that I made some really good meatballs last night and he asked me an excellent question, "How do you make them without having them fall apart while they're cooking?" I told him that he had asked a good question and that I would email him my recipe but that the most important 3 parts of making a well put together meatball are:

1. Use one good sized egg and one good half cup of bread crumbs to each pound of ground meat.
2. Use as many powdered spices as you can, steering away from sauces.
3. Bake the meatballs on a cookie sheet and then place it in the sink with one corner of the sheet down so that as much grease as possible drains from the pan (without allowing them to roll off the pan) and then, leave the meatballs sitting there for 15 minutes before you take them off the pan.

Now, whatever recipe you use, the above 3 hints should help assure a nice meatball that will stay together long enough to top the pasta and then, later, withstand being sliced for meatball sandwiches.

But, if you don't have a particularly good recipe or you'd like to try a new one, here's mine:


1.5 pound Angus ground meat (Use the best ground meat you can afford here, turkey or any other is certainly acceptable, as is 70/30 or 95/5 ground beef.) 


0.5 pound ground pork sausage (I use mild Italian)


2 good sized eggs (if you only have small eggs, use3 )


1 can baby food beef (I add it for flavor and consistency)


5 garlic cloves, chopped


1/2 cup each chopped onions and chopped green peppers


1 heaping C. of Italian bread crumbs


1 envelop Spaghetti Sauce seasoning (Like they sell by the gravy and taco seasoning)


2 t. salt


2 t. pepper


1 t. cayenne pepper


1/2 C. each of grated parmasan and mozzarella cheese


Mix all ingredients in one large bowl. If mixture seems too wet, dry by adding more bread crumbs a 1/2 C. at a time. If it appears too dry, moisten with cream, water, milk or, preferably, Italian  Dressing. But, the eggs should be moistening enough so consider adding a small egg before anything else for moistening. Roll the mixture into baseball size balls, as round and as smooth as possible. Bake in pre-heated 375 degree often for 30 minutes. If your balls are larger, check at 30 minutes and if necessary, turn heat down to 350 and cook for an additional 15 minutes. If yours are smaller, start the oven at 350 for 25 minutes and then, if necessary, turn oven down to 325 and cook for another 10 minutes. Remember  step 3 from the list of 3 hints for cooking a good meatball. Whatever size your balls are, keep an eye on them toward the end and remember to use your own common sense.


Consider further cooking before you take the meatballs out of the oven. Will you be cooking them more in the sauce? If so, don't worry to much about baking them all the way. I like to cook my balls in the sauce for another 45 minutes after baking.


One last thing, when I say the size of a baseball, I mean a hardball, not a softball.

How Do I Know You're a Racist?

Oddly enough, it has nothing to do with your political views. I can't tell much from your total disagreement with everything our President says...but, I can tell you're a racist because when you do disagree with Obama, you refer to him as a darky, n****r or  jig-a-boo.

I know you're a racist because if you haven't pegged a person as WASPy, you are sure to guess at their race...and to do so in a rather derogatory manner.

I know you're a racist because when you are around a person of African descent, you suddenly refer to jewelry as "bling" and you have to mention that you take delight in eating ribs and watermelon. I feel like an idiot when I'm present for one of your black ass-kissing episodes.

I see your racism when you refer to ALL Hispanics as "Porko-Ricans". You are too stupid to even consider my own family which is blended with Hispanics from all sorts of countries and includes my precious grandson.

I know that you are behaving in a racist manner when you present with that folksy old-fashioned racism that people of your generation claim is shared by "blacks of your age". I've never noticed a black person who looks back on 1940 era civil rights conditions with fondness.

I know that you're an inconsiderate racist when I explain to you how the "N" word and certain other words are very offensive to me, no matter who says them. Nor does the context affect my aversion to hearing those words. When I try to explain that you are offending ME...you simply offer an excuse and then you're off on another offensive tangent.

I know that you're a racist because when you get mad and want to be a great big dick, you call me a "n***r lover".

You actually accused me of "laying down with blacks". I'm looking around for Boo Radley when I see you.

FYI, just because I'm white, please don't think that I've tossed everything I learned in the '60's aside. I'm not a racist and most white people I meet aren't any more racist than I am. I'll be back because either I'll remember more of  your racist behavior or you will give me another paragraph...I have faith in that.

We Have Scary Cops...

...down here in Florida. When they learned that the kids were getting high off of some commonly purchased incense (or whatever, I haven't been paying THAT much attention), they passed laws to put a stop to the ease of purchase of said "drugs". And then, just to be really scary, they added this comment on today's news:

"We will be following up in the near future to be sure that the new law is obeyed."

Now, if that isn't frightening...apparently we are on notice that the cops may, in fact, be "following up" on a few laws to see that they aren't broken. I sure hope they give plenty of time to the guys who rape and murder old ladies...I'm not dreadfully frightened of teenagers looking for a buzz.