All That Glitters Is Not Gold

My Answer To Your Question


Today you asked why I would prefer to stay in the hideous rooming house that I'm staying in now. You called the other residents words that I would never repeat. You tell me how filthy the place is. You constantly remind me that I'm in "the hood", living with the "lowest form of life imaginable" and that "everybody knows only crack whores stay in places like this".

I could come back to you but being in this place has given me time to think. Yes, it is dreadful. But it's better than going back to you. Yes, you heard me, this place is better than yours.

You're right, the bed is full of bed bugs. But not one of those suckers has broken one of my bones. I can fall asleep in that bed without anyone shaking me and saying, "What's wrong? Why don't you sit with me? You must be up to something!" Yes, I can go to bed early without it being a clue that I have an ulterior motive for doing so. I can even get up early, like I love to do because early morning is such a peaceful time of the day. I've done it for decades. Never once has anyone gotten mad because, "if I had nothing to hide, I wouldn't need to have any time alone". So yeah, the bed has bugs...but it's better than your bed.

Maybe I am staying in a bad neighborhood, but I'm free to walk out the door and walk around without anyone following me demanding to know where I'm going. I can walk around quietly enjoying the weather and the old houses without anyone embarrassing me by shouting in the street because they know I'll do almost anything to avoid causing a scene.

And yes, I see cockroaches every night when I wake up to go to the bathroom. But I never find them groping my private areas when I wake up. They don't beg me for sex using lines like, "C'mon, it'll only take 5 minutes."

I've even met a few people who you would call "crazy". They may have mental issues, but they have never threatened suicide in an attempt to keep me in their presence. They don't try to control other people by any means necessary and they would never hide my dog so that I couldn't leave.

I can only afford to eat Ramen Noodles but you didn't pay for them so no one holds it over my head when I eat them. I'd rather eat those noodles than eat a steak that you cooked if I have to listen to you say things like, "I bought you dinner, don't I get anything for that?" Food tastes much better when you don't feel like you have to pay for it with your mind, soul and body...even Ramen Noodles.

And yeah, my clothes were donated to the shelter and they look terrible. My shoes were donated too and they're so big that I have a Bozo thing going but they're clean and I didn't have to go near you to get them.

Men around here have hit on me but they take no for an answer. They don't get mad at me and call me a bitch because I'm not interested in a romantic relationship...or romance itself for that matter. And they leave it at hitting on me, not ME.

And maybe these men are all the "scum of the earth". But when I sit and chat with them, they listen to what I say. They laugh at my jokes, they seem to enjoy my company and they make me feel good about myself. They do that by allowing me to BE myself without bitching at everything I say or do.

Everyday I have to walk everywhere I go but I can walk on a sidewalk, not eggshells.

Maybe some of the people here ARE drug addicts. But I've never seen one of them get so messed up that they locked me in a room to keep me from leaving.

Yes, I was robbed of the little bit of food that I had left. But no one sucked the life out of me and isolated me for so long that I have no one to help me get out of this situation.

The cops do, indeed, come here often. But it's never to arrest someone for assaulting me.

So, back to your question asking why I would rather stay here than go home with you...if you don't get the message from reading what I just wrote, I can't help you. Just know that there was a time in my life when I actually had a life. I would have looked at this place with fear and pity. But compared to staying with you, right now this is the Taj Mahal.

Does it make TOO much sense?

I think that a LOT of people think our prisons are failing miserably at many levels. And, a LOT of people think that our tax dollars could be better spent in the American penal system. I can't say "most of the people" because I didn't conduct a poll. But, I can safely say that a lot of people think that we can do a better job when "punishing" citizens who break our laws.

Nationwide, departments of corrections are supposed to be performing certain functions. Besides the obvious things like feeding, housing and clothing the prisoners, prisons should perform 4 main functions...punishment for crimes, segregation from law abiding citizens, deterrence from repeating the crime and rehabilitation.

I guess prison punishes although Richard Speck seemed to have a good time. But, more people try to escape so I guess not all prisoners are having as much fun as Speck. Nevertheless, there must be a price to pay for breaking the laws meant to allow us to live alongside each other in peace. So, in that aspect, prisons do punish to a large extent.

Prisons certainly do segregate criminals from the rest of us...except for the aforementioned escapees. But if you aren't going to work harder to prevent recidivism, you lose a lot of points in the segregation area.

Prisons absolutely deter...ME. For some, it's a merit badge in their little guilds. Does prison deter? Certainly. All law abiding citizens are deterred by prison. We are also deterred by a sense of decency, our civilized nature and our concern for our fellow man. Once again, considering the recidivism rates, prisons lose the points they earned simply by the fact that honest people are "deterred" by prison.

That leaves rehabilitation. First of all, prisons would need as much in the way of rehab programs if they weren't rehabilitating the same prisoners over and over again. That said, I'm sure that somewhere in America there are a few relatively successful programs...in far too few prisons. But overall, I think that the current state of rehabilitation in our prisons is miserable.

There has to be a better way to accomplish all 4 of the main purposes of our penal system. It would be easy if prison was forever, very little else would matter if you planned on keeping prisoners until they die. But if you plan on letting them out at all, you should do so with a little open-minded creativity.

How about a system where prisoners could earn their way up the prison ladder? Every rung would be a higher level with more privileges and opportunities for advancement. Prisoners would all start where they are now but following certain guidelines, following prison rules and showing motivation could earn them a step up the ladder which might simply be another prison with better opportunities for education, training and further advancement up the ladder and so on.

Naturally, those who commit certain crimes would be banned from unlimited advancement, but if there was a chance to live in a less violent prison with just as many restrictions, that should be an option...as should the potential for demotion.

For certain motivated drug offenders, the option of a prison specialized in treating addiction should be an option.

For certain prisoners, the highest level could maintain a lower level of security, the highest level of education and the only level where prisoners are specifically assisted with the transition back into society with a very low level of re-offending.

I have this all planned out in my mind and if I were the boss of prisons, I would make sure that American prisons were operated in this way because it would save billions of dollars an untold human lives. Also, the potential for the betterment of society, in countless ways would accompany such a penal system. My system of Magnet prisons is the only one that makes sense. For goodness sakes...the prisoners could build it themselves! Why isn't it being done?

A couple of thoughts

"We have a lot of evidence that marijuana use had something to do with the event," O'Mara said. "It could have affected his behavior."

AND I HAVE A LOT OF EVIDENCE THAT POT MAKES YOU MELLOW.

So...were I the defense in the Martin case, I wouldn't try to help the state. I dare you to find a jury full of people who don't know that all weed would have done is to make the kid less of a threat. Perhaps Trayvon DID smoke weed. Maybe he smoked it all day every day. Maybe he picked up a sack before he got the Skittles. Maybe he had just burned one with a friend. And maybe it DID affect his behavior. I'll give you that. But all it proves is that young Martin was NOT looking for trouble. People with a weed buzz are either paranoid or mellow. Neither one of those moods would provoke violence. So, if the kid was high, that's a nail in the defense's coffin.

So...he smoked weed? CASE CLOSED! Lock him up and throw away the key!


Also, I read an article about an article today. The original article was written by Russell Brand and the second article was written by Ben Shapiro. Brand wrote an article that basically made the point that terrorists are nuts and that Islam has nothing to do with terrorism. He actually made some pretty good points but then I read Shapiro's rebuttal and he also made some excellent points. It was an interesting article that you can read here if you'd like:

http://www.breitbart.com/Big-Hollywood/2013/05/27/Brand-blame-Woolwich-madness

Regardless of my views on that particular situation, I do agree that perhaps it's time to make up a new word. It should be a word that implies a person with a mixture of certain traits. The word will have no racial  connotations, it will actually be free of such bigotry by definition. I'll know that because I am going to define the word myself. But, the word will be exactly what Americans concerned about being politically correct need. So, may I introduce, for your verbal pleasure and ease of communication, musloon.

MUSLOON- A musloon is one who has a tendency to kill innocent people in the name of Muhammad. Musloons are not to be confused with peace loving Muslims. A musloon is a usually a male but precisely 0.011% of all musloons are females. Musloons are not to be confused with peace loving men. Musloons can be found in any part of the world, but the largest numbers of them are found in the Middle East. Musloons are not to be confused with peace loving Middle Easterners. Musloons also travel to any one of many locations and teach other musloons how to build bombs, how to blend in with normal society and how to hate those who do not follow their religious tenets. They believe that certain races deserve to be annihalated from the face of the earth. The term musloon is a respectful, non-racial and non-sexist term to be used when one is trying to communicate a valid thought without being offensive to anyone.

mY KEYBOARD IS MSSED UP...THIS'LL BE SHORT!

This video is from the day when this blog was relatively young. Some of you may remember when I used to get men to do odd chores around the house on weekends. I would take pictures of them working in my house and then post them on the blog. I did it without them knowing but I always managed to get them in silhouette so they never knew a thing about my little workman slide show.

OK...so maybe I AM a bitch

I mentioned earlier I wanted to chat about liking yourself. Let me see if I can make my thoughts clear because this is important to me, and it should be important to anyone who can relate to what I'm talking about.

Let me start with a recollection of a conversation I had when I was in the Cuckoo's Nest. When the smokers had just gotten back from their smoke break, a guy I had become friends with came in and sat next to me. Another guy who didn't smoke asked my friend why he ever started smoking in the first place. Recalling my own experience, I answered quickly, "Peer pressure." The guy looked baffled and asked, "Your friends actually PRESSURED you to smoke?" I responded, "No, but when you see the kids you try to hang out with doing it, you do it too. No one ever really hides in a corner pushing smokes on kids." He understood that...it was the same reason he played football in high school when he didn't really enjoy it.

So, when you ask, "How can another person tell you that you're bad and make you think less of yourself?" Good question, but that's not how it happens. It happens not so much from the actions of the jerk. It happens because there is no one else to counteract his negativity or, at the very least, his lack of positivity.

This is why it's so important to like yourself. And, like it or not, you have to be around other people who like you to know how likable you are. The reasoning behind that is the fact that you can't even BE yourself around someone who doesn't like you because you're constantly trying to make things better. You don't even do that consciously, you do it one minute at a time to avoid a negative situation and before you know it, that's what you've become. Unfortunately, that steals the real you away so you couldn't possibly like yourself because you AREN'T yourself. People who like you free you to be yourself. Only then can you know who you are. And people who don't like you won't like you one way or another. Trying to keep the peace is nothing more than delaying the inevitable so just get the hell out now. The harder you try to make that person happy, the higher they set the bar and you spend your entire life trying to clear moving hurdles.

So, what does that have to do with me being a bitch? I don't know but it seems as though people like to use that word when discussing me. I don't know if I am a bitch or not, but I know I know how to be a bitch. I also know that labelling people is a detriment to no one but myself so I don't like to do that. Whatever I am, I like being free to be it. If people don't like me, that's fine, they can go find people they DO like. Just let me be free to be myself and then I'll end up surrounded by people who DO like me.

OK...maybe this will work:):):)

Before I forget, I need to say that there are two things I came here to analyze. One is the ability to like one's self and the satisfaction of being liked. The other is an interesting question I was asked recently, how does one break up with a guy? Now, barring some unforeseen Internet mishap, I shouldn't forget those two things. I lose so many great thoughts on my way to immortalize them that I could have written a new bible with everything I've forgotten. Oh well, maybe I should act like I'm important and get one of those things that you talk into and it remembers everything you say so that you can replay it later.

I had one once but I lost it. Well, I didn't actually lose it, I left it in a car. That's a very simple way to honestly tell you what happened to my recorder thingie. The entire truth is a WHOLE lot more embarrassing.

I had just finished a day of shooting on the movie Get Low with Sissy Spacek, Gerald MacCraney, Bill Murray and last but not least, the most talented and gracious man I've ever worked with, Robert Duvall. There are only so many really good crew people in the Atlanta area so you pretty much run into the same people a lot. I met an assistant director named Bob and we had spent a few moments on set flirting with each other during a few different movies. It was nothing tacky or serious, just one of those spontaneous relationships that like-witted people can strike up. We worked on quite a few movies together and when we did, we saw each other daily. One day he had offered me a ride home and I really needed one so I said yes. I never once thought about the mini-tapey thing in my purse. It was full of me and my granddaughter chatting and I don't even know why it was there to begin with.

At one point during the ride home, I accidentally spilt my purse on the floorboard in front of me. I put everything back and never thought about it again. That is of course, until I eventually went to get the min-tapey thing. It was gone. It took me a while, but eventually I remembered the ride home and realized, to my utter horror, that I had left the stupid thing in that guy's car. And...the only place it could have been was under the passenger seat. It occurred to me that when he did finally find it, he would think that I was trying to record his ass. Not a good thing in the movie business.

Shortly after that I left for Los Angeles and never saw him again. And with any luck at all, I never will.

Now that I've done that, I'm not in the mood to finish the things I came here for...but I will. Most likely at 4:20.

Guaranteed smile

Here's is a video that will evoke a smile on all but the most psychotic of individuals:



Now my tummy started hurting all of a sudden so I must go lie down, fart, take a nap or all of the above.

I remember what I wanted to talk about!

Dogs are wonderful creatures and I certainly am a dog-lover. I've been lucky to have obedient dogs my entire life. Once I was divorced, I had a great dog who was so bright and well-behaved that cops who trained dogs for a living were impressed by him.

But as well trained as that dog was, he was, of course, a dog. And dogs have certain inherent traits that came along well before man and dog became friends. One of those traits is that habit dogs have of chasing things that move quickly past them. They chase cars, motorcycles, other dogs and people who are either running or riding a bicycle near the dog. Dogs are genetically wired to chase fast moving objects/creatures because at one time, they had to do so to survive. They had to catch their own food so an innate need to run after things is inculcated into all dogs, even the dogs lucky enough to eat the fanciest, most high priced dog food available.

My dog, Payton, was people social, dog social and cat social. He was a very loving dog and until he got sick near the end of his life, he never harmed a soul. He did occasionally try to bolt during walks if a runner or a bike riding kid rode past him. Luckily, he never got away from me but I did learn about the dog and it's natural instinct to chase. When I went to read about that phenomenon, I encountered many articles where people did little but complain about the dog owners.

My ex used to bitch at other drivers when he was driving. He wasn't the type to slow down and let the crazy people go away...instead he said things to justify his own behavior like, "It's HIS fault!". Perhaps it would have been. And had that man killed himself trying to be a jerk on the road, I would have put his last words on his tombstone.

It seems that a lot of the people discussing the dogs were happy to simply blame it all on the owner. Once again, perhaps the owner is a jerk, but that won't help much when you're in hospital getting stitches and rabies shots. So, yeah, a lot of people are jerks and a lot of jerks own dogs. So, when a person is running near a dog, the runner should either slow down, turn a corner, or stop and rethink their next move. Also, kids with bikes should be taught that a dog will give chase when they see a fast moving bike so they, too, need to slow down or stop and let the dog walk away.

This morning I was sitting by the water with a dog. Luckily, that dog was on a leash so when a chick ran by us, I had control of the situation. You would think that she would have noticed the inclination of dogs to chase her after a few weeks of running and figure out a way to handle the situation. But all she did was run to the bridge and turn back to run past the same dog.

When I saw her coming for a third time, I decided that I would write a post about this so that any runners out there (or bike riders) will understand dogs a bit better, if you don't already. People can just sit there or whine about the irresponsible owners...or they can develop a self-preservation attitude that is mature, logical and potentially helpful in the future.

:):):)

Oh please...tell me what the heck this is!

Recently my daughter and I took her son to an arcade in LA. It was pretty cool because it was huge and it had a LOT of antique machines. Not all of them worked, but they were there. Those dudes on the History Channel who like to refurbish things would have a field day with these machines! Anyway, they also had new machines and every kind in between.

In my entire life, I've never put a dime (or a quarter) into a claw machine. But, for my grandson I tried...once. I couldn't bring myself to try it twice. But there was one of those machines that, for fifty cents, delivers and small toy in a clear plastic container. I figured, what the heck, for a two year old, even a cheap toy is a toy so I pumped two quarters into the machine and out popped a container with a "toy" in it. Here is that toy (notice the shadow my pinkie finger casts, I am old enough to remember being taught that, for some reason, ladies stick out their pinkie fingers when they use their hand and now it happens sub-consciously):

OK...need a different angle?

Or just another look without the pinkie?

OK then, is there anyone out there who knows what in the dickens this is? My grandson took it, looked at it, and then threw it onto the ground. If nothing else, they have discovered the only thing on this planet that a two year old will NOT put in his mouth.

There was something else that I wanted to talk about but I forget what it was. It'll come to me. In the mean time, here are a couple more beach shots from yesterday.

OK...now I have to stop for a bit because I just spent a half and hour trying to do something on this post and it never worked. I'm as irritated as I can be so I'll have to start over in a new post. See ya soon!

Here are a few half-assed pictures taken at the beach today...

 ...I spent most of my time staring at the water and thinking. I'll be telling you, one way or another, what I was thinking about over the next little bit.

Sometimes I just stood in the surf doing the same thing.

The other day as I was sitting on the canal wall feeding ducks, gulls, fish and turtles, I found this little sucker. I don't know what it is, but here ya go:

Uh oh, I'll be back again

Today I'm going here...

...and I'll be having fun. First I have to straighten the place a bit and then cook breakfast for a 93 year old man and then we're going to see how quickly we can get a sunburn. When I get back, I'll write a post about a couple of things I need to address.

So, I hope you all are enjoying your Saturday! I woke up and decided to pretend that I'm still alive and healthy enough to enjoy beauty...maybe you are too?

Blacklisted much?

Robtex has all kinds of info.

Most of us...

There's one who has yet to be born. I think the photographer stunk.

Necessary or Sufficient Causes

I started reading about Necessary and Sufficient Causes and decided that it was too involved to get into now so I have to wing it here. I heard the term in a discussion about my auras. Those are these odd feelings that I get occasionally, Sometimes they precede a seizure, but they aren't as reliable as Payton was. My "auras" also precede panic attacks and varied and sundry other neuro "incidents". I never know what's going on...at one point I didn't remember the aura at all because I didn't remember anything for an hour or so before the seizure. I remembered most of what occurs before a stroke, but I never remember the strokes at all. Nor do I remember the seizures so those aren't really anything to be afraid of. Of course, if you hurt yourself, that could be another story altogether. I do have some scars that I can't explain anymore than to say, "They happened during a seizure."

But generally, I don't remember too much. The auras are like feelings of impending doom, I have hallucinations, like auditory, olfactory and tactile. When I hear the voices, I generally say, "What?", because they always say my name. But as soon as they don't answer, I realize what it is...or isn't...and I go on about my day.

Anyway, the worst part is always coming out of whatever the most recent brain fart happens to be. I literally know nothing. I stare at the world around me and I have absolutely no clue what any of it means. I see paramedics talking but their words mean nothing to me. I'm frightened, usually well into the grip of the physiology of the Fight or Flight Syndrome. Even so, I can't formulate a plan because as I said, I know NUTEENG! I watch the people speaking to me and when a stupid one tried to get really close to me once, I literally balled up my fists but, lucky for her, I had no clue what to do with them.

Sometimes I just wake up on the floor, looking up at someone looking down at me. I say, "It happened again." They say, "Yeah.", and I go about my business.

One rotten way to come around is to do so without the ability to think of words. How strange the mind is! Sometimes I have no words but I know that I should know them. Other times, I can think the word in my head but I can't make my mouth say it. I remember trying to ask for a cup one morning when I wanted to have some coffee. My brain could say cup just like yours. Until I opened my mouth, there was no difference between your brain and mine. But, when I tried to say the word, I absolutely could not do it.

Now I'm freaking me out. I need to check out a picture for you guys...BRB

Hi...I'm at the following page...

...exercising my brain. I'll be back in a flash, I was recently rescued from a weird YouTube trip where I ended up watching Mike Tyson brutally win fight after fight, memorial clips for dead babies and even one amazing video of the yuckiest stuff being suctioned out of some poor schmuck's sinuses. When I found myself watching a surgical excision of a HUGE blackhead, my phone rang. Anyway, I hung up and went to search for a specific logic question...you know the ones that say something like:

Some birds are green.
All green birds are parakeets.
Are all birds parakeets?

I never did find the name of that type of question, if you know I'd really appreciate it if you'd let me know in the comments. But, I did find some interesting websites with other logic questions like this one:

http://www.folj.com/puzzles/difficult-logic-problems.htm

So, I'm going back there before a half human half squid video pops up on my YouTube Welcome page. Then, I'll be back. it won't be long, I promise.

:):):)

OK...I'm back. I got a few of those questions but then they started making me feel stupid so it was time to come back here.

I see our President is having some issues lately. I don't understand why people are all shocked and dismayed, we elected a man from Chicago. Duh. I'm from Chicago and when we elect our corrupt politicians, we know what we're doing. Mayor Daley (the first one) was as crooked as Stephen Hawking's spine. But I'll tell you this, he got things done. I'll never forget his blatantly honest answer when questioned regarding accusations of nepotism and some other similar malfeasance's...to paraphrase the mayor, of course I hired family and friends, wouldn't you?

There are a few things every single person from Chicago knows, the phone number to Empire Carpets is 588-2300 and Jene and Jude's makes the world greatest hot dog. It looks like this:

...BTW, you should know that you will be assaulted if you ask for ketchup at Jene and Jude's. I don't want ketchup for the hot dog, it's perfect the way it is. But they also serve those wonderful freshly made french fries and I MUST have ketchup for them. The nearby Cock Robin ice cream shack had a brilliant idea, they started selling little packets of ketchup for a nickel. I never failed to stop there for my ketchup after I bought those great french fries.

Anyway, another thing we all know is that our politicians are crooked. So, when you hear that there's s acndal brewing in the White House, consider this fun fact, four out of our last seven governors are in prison.

I have to lie down for a bit, I'm having another "aura". That means I need to pop myself a xanax and lie down until it works or I have a seizure. With any luck at all, I'll be back in a bit!

Questions asked by living attorney's...well mostly

ATTORNEY: What was the first thing your husband said to you that morning?

WITNESS: He said, 'Where am I, Cathy?'

ATTORNEY: And why did that upset you?

WITNESS: My name is Susan!

____________________________...___

ATTORNEY: What gear were you in at the moment of the impact?

WITNESS: Gucci sweats and Reeboks.

____________________________________________

ATTORNEY: Are you sexually active?

WITNESS: No, I just lie there.

____________________________________________

ATTORNEY: What is your date of birth?

WITNESS: July 18th.

ATTORNEY: What year?

WITNESS: Every year.

_____________________________________

ATTORNEY: How old is your son, the one living with you?

WITNESS: Thirty-eight or thirty-five, I can't remember which.

ATTORNEY: How long has he lived with you?

WITNESS: Forty-five years.

_________________________________

ATTORNEY: This myasthenia gravis, does it affect your memory at all?

WITNESS: Yes.

ATTORNEY: And in what ways does it affect your memory?

WITNESS: I forget..

ATTORNEY: You forget? Can you give us an example of something you forgot?

___________________________________________

ATTORNEY: Now doctor, isn't it true that when a person dies in his sleep, he doesn't know about it until the next morning?

WITNESS: Did you actually pass the bar exam?

____________________________________

ATTORNEY: The youngest son, the 20-year-old, how old is he?

WITNESS: He's 20, much like your IQ.

___________________________________________

ATTORNEY: Were you present when your picture was taken?

WITNESS: Are you shitting me?

_________________________________________

ATTORNEY: So the date of conception (of the baby) was August 8th?

WITNESS: Yes.

ATTORNEY: And what were you doing at that time?

WITNESS: Getting laid

____________________________________________

ATTORNEY: She had three children , right?

WITNESS: Yes.

ATTORNEY: How many were boys?

WITNESS: None.

ATTORNEY: Were there any girls?

WITNESS: Your Honor, I think I need a different attorney. Can I get a new attorney?

____________________________________________

ATTORNEY: How was your first marriage terminated?

WITNESS: By death..

ATTORNEY: And by whose death was it terminated?

WITNESS: Take a guess.

___________________________________________

ATTORNEY: Can you describe the individual?

WITNESS: He was about medium height and had a beard

ATTORNEY: Was this a male or a female?

WITNESS: Unless the Circus was in town I'm going with male.

_____________________________________

ATTORNEY: Is your appearance here this morning pursuant to a deposition notice which I sent to your attorney?

WITNESS: No, this is how I dress when I go to work.

______________________________________

ATTORNEY: Doctor , how many of your autopsies have you performed on dead people?

WITNESS: All of them. The live ones put up too much of a fight.

_________________________________________

ATTORNEY: ALL your responses MUST be oral, OK? What school did you go to?

WITNESS: Oral...

_________________________________________

ATTORNEY: Do you recall the time that you examined the body?

WITNESS: The autopsy started around 8:30 PM

ATTORNEY: And Mr. Denton was dead at the time?

WITNESS: If not, he was by the time I finished.

____________________________________________

ATTORNEY: Are you qualified to give a urine sample?

WITNESS: Are you qualified to ask that question?

______________________________________

And last:



ATTORNEY: Doctor, before you performed the autopsy, did you check for a pulse?

WITNESS: No.

ATTORNEY: Did you check for blood pressure?

WITNESS: No.

ATTORNEY: Did you check for breathing?

WITNESS: No..

ATTORNEY: So, then it is possible that the patient was alive when you began the autopsy?

WITNESS: No.

ATTORNEY: How can you be so sure, Doctor?

WITNESS: Because his brain was sitting on my desk in a jar.

ATTORNEY: I see, but could the patient have still been alive, nevertheless?

WITNESS: Yes, it is possible that he could have been alive and practicing law.

This could only come from Down-Under

A NORTHERN Territory minister has come under fire on Facebook after bizarrely weighing in on Angelina Jolie's double mastectomy. Country Liberal Party member and MP for Katherine, Willem Rudolf Westra van Holthe sparked a flurry of angry Facebook responses...

Now...why on Earth would a guy be "under fire" for speaking the truth? His point was an excellent one, many others suffer quietly every day, everywhere and from every status level on this planet. I survived cancer twice, I never thought it was heroic, all I did was try to survive. I think most people would have done the same. If I could have had a planned procedure to prevent ever getting cancer, I would have done it happily. And yeah, I would have had the titties chopped off in a heartbeat. The only difference is that I can't afford the best boobie surgeons in the world. So, if self-preservation is heroic, then God bless every spider that spins a web, every big cat that kills a fawn and every shark that chows down on people. Not that self-preservation can't be heroic, the 3 young ladies in Cleveland has taught us that. But surgery in the South of France isn't quite the same thing.

Only those from La-La-Land can think that their "suffering" is any more painful than that of those who can't afford to find a place to live...or die...when they need it the most. And these people conduct their lives with decency and by the social laws that they can't afford to dismiss when their hormones call for a thoughtless scratching of an itch that must be satiated. Most people try to respect others and when faced with decisions, they try to choose the decisions that would least affect any innocents. Jolie has chosen the path of least resistance, of most pleasure for her and very little that didn't ruin lives along the way at every possible turn.

When she does do something perceived as "heroic", it's difficult to refrain from distrusting her motives. It's not too tough to go buy a starving kid here or there, but it takes time, effort and true compassion to use your resources to fund a center that allows people to accomplish things without the ever-present worry of survival. All they do every day IS survive and that takes a lot for us with much more than they have, how difficult must it be to have no control over the necessities of life while trying to better your circumstances?

Jolie's Princess Diana impersonation has one vital flaw...she lacks all perception of sincerity and I don't see how she could ever get it back...boobs or no boobs.




Read more: http://www.news.com.au/lifestyle/health-fitness/nt-minister-willem-westra-van-holthe-calls-pitt-pathetic-for-praising-jolies-heroic-mastectomy/story-fneuzlbd-1226642910760#ixzz2TN0aAIBs

I finally got SOME pictures...

...They aren't the best in the world, but he certainly is!

I have some files from my daughter of Joaquin and I playing with his cars but apparently our formats don't match. Is it possible that I could forward the email to someone out there and have it posted using another format?

Things that drive me crazy...

...and a few that make me want to react violently. You can pretty much SAY anything to me and I won't mind. If I want to say something back to you, I can or if what you said was extra special stupid, I could just chuckle and walk away. I don't worry about getting into fights with people so most people don't attack me physically. Well, no one I KNOW anyway. Of course you could hurt someone I care about to get to me, but I wouldn't advise it. I may seem sedate but that's because I choose to be sedate. I know how to act like a lunatic...I simply choose not to. I know it's always an option and I save lunacy for when it's necessary.

Man, this was supposed to be a list, not a monologue. Oh well, that all explains number one on my list-o-annoying shit that very well may provoke a visibly physical response. The first way to drive me insane is to invade my personal space. That so rarely ever happens that when it does, I usually start swinging my arms around all over the place, actually flailing my arms would be a more appropriate use of verbiage. One would think that should get the message across, wouldn't one? I'd try explaining it but I doubt someone that disrespectful of personal space would grasp my explanation.

I've read that a lack of respect for another person's space is a symptom in many anti-social behaviors...usually the more psychotic of us are totally unaware of the entire concept of personal space. It seems to me that we should probably make it a point to stay away from those who are invasive when it comes to our own space.

Another thing on my list is similar but has the added offense of an unwelcome, unsolicited kisses. You know that kiss that a freak wants because it makes them feel as though everything is OK...because you kissed them? Nothing has changed except you had to turn your neck and pucker. Sometimes you might have the added responsibility of wiping spit off of your face, but if you shortened the kiss in the first place, it shouldn't be a problem. Well, it could be if rabies were involved. But the worst, the absolute worst...is the person who kisses you and then refuses to withdraw immediately. They linger with their pig faces 5 inches from your face so you CAN NOT do anything else but stare in disbelief and wonder how long this assault will go on. That dude did that and it drove me crazy.

I was thinking about it earlier and it occurred to me that my reaction is related to the reaction I had when I freaked out having my first MRI. I had no clue how claustrophobic I was until I couldn't get out of that tube fast enough. If that dude would have caught me on a particularly bad day, I could be on trial for some "scary chick" offense.

I guess this list isn't going to be so long after all.

How about a different state?

My buddy posted this

 I found this scene on a friend's blog (http://rumblestripq.blogspot.com/). Fortunately for me, but sad for my friend, his family of origin had some less than optimal members as well. Nice for him, he has a sister who seems to like him.

You know something? I've really let one of my ex's...

...off the hook. I had quit bitching about Mark Colletti years before my most recent ex dominated the BULLSHIT column of my life. But, Mark...er, the Bugman...has really left his own personal brand of hell firmly ingrained in every aspect of my life. Rick took center stage for a while at one point, but there was a time and a place, when and where Bug was the hideous, cowardly bastard who screwed other women and liked to toss me down stairs, holding me by the hair so that he could leave me with a HUGE bald spot that angered my mother for years. (That was as close as I ever got to family support...IN MY LIFE.)

The name Louisa May Wilson pops into my head. That was the 40 year old hoe that Mark spent his evenings with the summer I was pregnant with my daughter...yes, she is his daughter too. I was 21, scared and living in a state 700 miles away from my friends and my parents. She was 40 something. My 22 year old husband was nowhere near done sowing his wild oats. He came home with hickeys, left me alone night after night and even left me stuck in a bathtub with a broken foot and an extremely small hot water heater. I sat in that tub, 8 months pregnant with a broken foot, all wet and cold. The jack ass said he was going to the store down the street but he never came back until the next morning. By then I had to go to the hospital.

This was the charmer that came home long enough to start a fight so that I would finally say, "OK...just leave." Then he would  grab a clean shirt, his Paco Rabanne cologne and a razor and bolt out the door with intense anticipation and the gusto that would be his downfall in this fun story:

http://diaryofmydivorce.blogspot.com/2006/05/dear-meg_30.html

When he got home he would inevitably either make something to eat or bring food with him. Regardless, I seem to remember an inordinate amount of chili, cheeseburgers and bowls full of whatever frightening food he had concocted that night, hanging on my walls. That was so annoying because I HAD to clean the mess. He wouldn't do it and I couldn't let the kids grow up thinking of food as wall deco.

I adored that guy. Don't know why, but I did. And then, as tends to happen after a person stops feeling the pain, I couldn't get it back. I tried, I really did. Maybe I should have tried harder, who knows. At the time, the best idea, or so I thought, seemed to be to leave him. And then all hell broke loose and that demon has never forgiven me.

Over the past 2 or 3 decades I have seen that Bug fewer times than I can count on one hand but he sees me all the time. The problem is, he sees the same thing he saw in 1986. His view of me then wasn't the clearest view of the real me. It couldn't have been because by then, he had become one of the people who my family had shown over and over again how badly one could treat me and not bother a soul. My parents told the kids, the kids told each other and eventually everyone told other people in our family circle that treating Margaret like shit is not only accepted, it's encouraged. I've finally figured out why they're doing that.

I was watching a really crazy documentary called the 'Wild and Wonderful White's of West Virginia'. OMG...you gotta see that. Anyway, it's a fascinating little film that leaves pretty much everyone who watches it feeling SO MUCH BETTER about themselves. My family does it because, like a drug, it makes them FEEL better about themselves. Apparently, it's much more addictive than opiates because these yahoos have all been mad at me since I was 4 years old. I can't fight an addiction in one other person, surely fighting the addictions of my parents, siblings, kids and insane ex's with their ridiculously nasty current spouses would take more than just myself. I doubt any of your larger villages could fight such powerfully inculcated coping mechanisms.

And the sheep in them all! They follow each other as blindly as any other cult follows the more vocal members. And, that is exactly the phenomenon that Bug has taken full advantage of for decades. And his archetypal scheme generally involves assuring that my children and other vulnerable and trusting followers ONLY see me through his Bug colored glasses. He's suburb at that. His accomplice is good at it but only because she is simply THAT ready, willing and able to assist Bug with gusto in his plot to paint me as whatever it is that best serves their purpose on any given day.

Over the years, I have made life easier for that Bug every chance I had. When he and his hideous cohorts needed me to do something, I would try to make whatever it was as easy as possible for everyone concerned.

Here are some examples of the things that I not only allowed...I made it as easy as possible for the Bug...usually because, in the end, it was easier for my kids. Anyway, here's a smattering:

1. After Bug and his freak wife kidnapped my kids and generally made life miserable in their attempts to get out of paying child support, I spoke to a very wise woman who said, "You know, you should just give them what they want. They won't stop doing stupid things but it will make them think they got away with something and they might be nice. But more importantly, it'll make life easier on your kids. They don't WANT the kids, they want to get out of paying you money." I thought about it and it made sense to me. I went to Chicago and gave him custody of the kids. The kidnappings stopped and from then on, I had my kids without fear of their lives being uprooted without the constant worry of the tug-o-war. It was well worth the $275 a month that he never paid anyway.

2. Bug and I were married in the Catholic Church. After his current squeeze bitched at him for years because she knew how important that church bond was to Bug and his family, they decided to get an annulment. According to the church, Bug and I were still man and wife. I understood how important it was to Bug and the Amazon woman so I was more than happy to sign the annulment papers so that I would no longer be a hindrance, in any form, to their happiness.

3. I stopped speaking to Bug's family for years even though we had our own special relationship. They were my children's grandparents and they adore my kids. I'm their mother and a friendly relationship between us is the mature and decent thing to do for a loving mother and loving grandparents who want to do the most beneficial thing for our children...and now for THEIR children as well. But, when it made Amazon woman insecure (No, I don't know why either) I simply bowed out.

4. Bug and his childish cohort have spent years talking smack about me to anyone who will listen, even if it's simply to say things like, "Only an idiot would drive a Mustang." OVER AND OVER AGAIN to my children, knowing they know I drive a Mustang. The same thing was done this way, "Only idiots watch soap operas." because I used to watch All My Children. Those are just 2 examples. The kids told me about lots of the comments but I'm sure that some of the underhanded tactics went over their heads. When my kids were at that house, they were supported more when they joined the "I hate Mommy" cult and they were either ignored or at least not "rewarded" when they didn't. Nothing makes my kids more attractive to Bug and his squeeze than when they jump on the "Mom's evil" train. Yet, I remind my kids to call Bug on his birthday, I always make sure to ask if they are all OK and never, ever speak ill of those 2 yahoos. Years ago I made the mistake of doing that to my son and the pain in his eyes never allowed me to do it again so I refrain from such petty and hurtful behavior.

There was a time in my life when I drank too much. Health issues put an abrupt end to my drinking days over 20 years ago. I may occasionally have a drink or two nowadays but I don't even enjoy it anymore and haven't really done so for decades. I don't care anymore, you all know what I like. I've never hidden it and I'm happy to admit to it. After years and years of these yahoos bitching about MY drinking...I'm one of the few who DOESN'T drink now. They sit there and suck vodka, beer or whatever (nightly) and then talk about me and my drinking while they do it. I don't call them all hypocrites. I just sit here and wait for karma to kick them all in the ass. When it does, I hope I don't forget to laugh.

And if I EVER mention the fact that others are obviously talking about me...people will turn it all around on me and say, "You always say that, you're just paranoid." Well, no one in the world treats me like this except my family. And I'm not imagining this...people have been mad at me since I was 4 years old. I don't know anything except I screwed up and EVERY SINGLE PERSON who is mad at me refuses to tell me what I did. They find it easier and more morally correct to simply call someone else and tell them what I did. Those two will chew on that until it looks nothing like the original incident and then they'll tell 2 people and those 2 people will tell 2 people, and so on and so on. Before you know it, my entire family has had a fix of chest pounding and feather spreading so they have reinforced the importance of the ritualistic skewering of Margaret.

I couldn't have verbalized this when I was 5, but I had certainly noticed it by then. It has always been OK for my parents and siblings to make comments to and about me that would be addressed as a disciplinary measure had the behavior been directed toward someone worthy of respect. I learned to smile a lot. (An interesting aside, when I was doing stand-up, my father advised me against doing self-deprecating humor. Really? He's the one who TAUGHT everyone to deprecate my ass!)

Once it became acceptable to disrespect me, it became acceptable to let others in on the joke. The really evil part of that phenomenon is that I usually brought the new people around in the form of boyfriends, dates and husbands. My family actually went out of their way to bring these guys in on the family joke. The guys I brought around would always, predictably, react in one of two ways. They either took the bait and joined in on the festivities...or they were appalled and would ask me what the hell was wrong with my family. Of course, I liked that reaction better. Eventually, I would pay attention to see how quickly a guy would choose his destiny. Bug was in my life before I figured out that entire concept but looking back, Bug immediately joined the "Margaret Sucks" club and never looked back. Even worse, he brought others along with him. And even worse than that, he has tainted my own kid's perception of me. And he calls himself a good Christian. That makes me want to puke.

Yeah, today Bug is a maliciously malignant immoral menace. Given the choice of a high road or a low road, Bug, like his co-workers, stays as low as possible and slithers along, perniciously damaging lives subtly and over years. It's one thing to sit back and do nothing, at least you won't make matters worse. But how do these people consistently get away with this behavior? They've convinced each other that I am personally so bad that all the other rules of social decorum can be tossed aside where I am concerned.

Blow me...you bald and nasty piece of eye booger.