Ramblings

What is it about Radiohead's OK Computer that makes listening to it feel like some sort of religious experience?  It's like once you put it in your stereo, it's there for good.  It would be a sacrilege to remove it.  Chris and I were having this conversation the other day.  He thinks it's because the guy sounds like he's barely clinging to life while singing most of the songs, which would make what he was saying pretty special.  I guess I can see that.  I don't know.  I just know that the first time I heard it, I was like holy hell, this is some important shit I'm listening to!  And I'm pretty sure the CD stayed in my car CD player for at least 3 months.

So we finally made it to Tallahassee this weekend to see my family.  The kids are precious as usual.  Brayden  still won't talk, and Haylee is still constantly surprising you with what comes out of her crazy mouth.  Melissa and dad cooked a great meal for us on Saturday, and my mom got a four-hour pass out of the hospital on Sunday so she could come home and hang out.  It's the first time she's been home in about a month.  She's still not getting around very well, but they're talking about discharging her on Tuesday.   I don't know how to feel about that.  I know it sucks for her to be up there in the rehab hospital, but I worry about her being at home by herself with her mobility as limited as it already is by her MS, and now the broken shoulder compounding things.  Oh well.

For our part, Chris and I were a sad case all weekend.  I had a horrible migraine, which seems par for the course lately.  But poor Chris got another kidney stone.  Very unlike me, he's too stubborn to take a pain pill when something hurts until he is near death.  So he suffered more than he had to, but I gave him plenty of the pity that he always requires when feeling under the weather.   His stubborn behind refused to call the doctor this morning which pisses me off a little.  But I'll work on him a little more later.   He was a good sport though all weekend, and even sang karaoke with me Saturday afternoon on the TV once his Vicodin kicked in.

The bad part?  Coming home to this messy house.  Holy shit what a mess.  After New Orleans last weekend and then being gone this weekend too, our house has been woefully neglected.  I'm afraid to go into the kitchen.  I think some of the dishes may have legs.  Oh noes!  Well, I better stop this rambling and go clean up some of this junk before my baby gets home.

'Tis the Season

Lessons from Jim Cantore... the weather channel guy... too funny!

To: ex-Floridians, present Floridians, and future Floridians or those who know a Floridian.

We're about to enter the peak of the hurricane season. Any day now, you're going to turn on the TV and see a weather person pointing to some radar blob out in the Atlantic Ocean and/or the Gulf of Mexico and making two basic meteorological points:

(1) There is no need to panic.
(2) We could all be killed.

Yes, hurricane season is an exciting time to be in Florida. If you're new to the area, you're probably wondering what you need to do to prepare for the possibility that we'll get hit by "the big one.''

Based on our experiences, we recommend that you follow this simple plan: 

STEP 1. Buy enough food and bottled water to last your family for at least three days.

STEP 2. Put these supplies into your car.

STEP 3. Drive to Nebraska and remain there until Thanksgiving.

Unfortunately, statistics show that most people will not follow this sensible plan. Most people will foolishly stay here in Florida.

We'll start with one of the most important hurricane preparedness items:

HOMEOWNERS' INSURANCE: If you own a home, you must have hurricane insurance. Fortunately, this insurance is cheap and easy to get, as long as your home meets two basic requirements:

(1) It is reasonably well-built, and
(2) It is located in Nebraska.

Unfortunately, if your home is located in Florida, or any other area that might actually be hit by a hurricane, most insurance companies would prefer not to sell you hurricane insurance, because then they might be required to pay YOU money, and that is certainly not why they got into the insurance business in the first place.

So you'll have to scrounge around for an insurance company, which will charge you an annual premium roughly equal to the replacement value of your house. At any moment, this company can drop you like used dental floss.

Since Hurricane Andrew, I have had an estimated 27 different home-insurance companies. This week, I'm covered by the Bob and Big Stan Insurance Company, under a policy which states that, in addition to my premium, Bob and Big Stan are entitled, on demand, to my kidneys.

SHUTTERS : Your house should have hurricane shutters on all the windows, all the doors, and -- if it's a major hurricane -- all the toilets. There are several types of shutters, with advantages and disadvantages:

Plywood shutters: The advantage is that, because you make them yourself, they're cheap. The disadvantage is that, because you make them yourself, they will fall off.

Sheet-metal shutters: The advantage is that these work well, once you get them all up. The disadvantage is that once you get them all up, your hands will be useless bleeding stumps, and it will be December.

Roll-down shutters: The advantages are that they're very easy to use, and will definitely protect your house. The disadvantage is that you will have to sell your house to pay for them.

"Hurricane-proof'' windows: These are the newest wrinkle in hurricane protection: They look like ordinary windows, but they can withstand hurricane winds! You can be sure of this, because the salesman says so. He lives in Nebraska.

Hurricane Proofing Your Property : As the hurricane approaches, check your yard for movable objects like barbecue grills, planters, patio furniture, visiting relatives, etc.; you should, as a precaution, throw these items into your swimming pool (if you don't have a swimming pool, you should have one built immediately). Otherwise, the hurricane winds will turn these objects into deadly missiles.

EVACUATION ROUTE : If you live in a low-lying area, you should have an evacuation route planned out. (To determine whether you live in a low-lying area, look at your driver's license; if it says "Florida" you live in a low-lying area.) The purpose of having an evacuation route is to avoid being trapped in your home when a major storm hits. Instead, you will be trapped in a gigantic traffic jam several miles from your home, along with two hundred thousand other evacuees. So, as a bonus, you will not be lonely.

HURRICANE SUPPLIES : If you don't evacuate, you will need a mess of supplies. Do not buy them now! Florida tradition requires that you wait until the last possible minute, then go to the supermarket and get into vicious fights with strangers over who gets the last can of SPAM.

In addition to food and water, you will need the following supplies:
- 23 flashlights, and at least $167 worth of batteries that turn out, when the power goes out, to be the wrong size for the flashlights.
- Bleach. (No, I don't know what the bleach is for. NOBODY knows what the bleach is for. But it's traditional, so GET some!)
- A 55-gallon drum of underarm deodorant.
- A big knife that you can strap to your leg. (This will be useless in a hurricane, but it looks cool.)
- A large quantity of raw chicken - to placate the alligators. (Ask anybody who went through Andrew; after the hurricane, there WILL be irate alligators.)
- $35,000 in cash or diamonds so that, after the hurricane passes, you can buy a generator from a man with no discernible teeth.

Of course these are just basic precautions. As the hurricane draws near, it is vitally important that you keep abreast of the situation by turning on your television and watching TV reporters in rain slickers stand right next to the ocean and tell you over and over how vitally important it is for everybody to stay away from the ocean.

Good luck and remember: it's great living in paradise! Those of you who aren't here yet you should come. Really

Couple of Hours I'll Never Get Back

Ok.  So we got Borat from Netflix a week or so ago and finally got around to watching it.  I'm fully aware that the following statement will totally prove once and for all my complete transition to unhip old fart, but what a complete waste of however long that piece of crap movie was!  (And for the record, Chris is an unhip old fart, too, because he totally agreed, expressing his disappointment after all the hype so many months ago.)   I am not without a sense of humor.  I can even laugh at the sad state of affairs that has become our country.  Team America, though a bit uncomfortable at times, was quite entertaining.  But this movie was pathetic.  Not only did it put some of the worst that America has to offer on display for the whole world to see, it just wasn't funny enough, when it was funny at all.  Basically it was a British guy making fun of Americans who were too stupid to realize they were being made fun of, but the subject matter was just sad.  Bigotry, sexism, rape.  Not funny.  The stadium full of people cheering the total annihilation of Iraq?  Not funny.  The douche bag frat boys?  Not funny.  The homophobic redneck rodeo clown?  Not funny.  Back pussy?  Seriously?  Not even a little bit funny.  What kind of sick fuck thinks of some shit like that?  That whole scene was just deeply disturbing.   

Pretty sure my IQ went down a few points just for watching that tripe.  If I want to see Americans making asses of themselves, all I have to do is turn on any cable news network.  They certainly don't need some foreign actor helping them out.   What's sad is how easily these morons played right along, giving him all the fodder he needed to make us all look like a bunch of jackasses.  Idiots.  And then the rest of the country celebrates?  What a sad statement that is.    I just don't get it. 

The Time We Saw the Police in New Orleans

Ok.  So we're back from New Orleans, and I've finally been walking like a normal person again for a few days now.  I think I might even be caught up on sleep.  How is it that vacations, however brief, always seem so completely exhausting?   At any rate, I think now's as good a time as any to document the travels. 

So, all things considered, I think the trip was quite successful.  There was a pretty large group of us, and we naturally all had different ideas about what we wanted and didn't want to do while we were there.  That really could have caused drama, but everyone was pretty relaxed, we did a lot of planning beforehand and considering the sheer magnitude of the event most central to our journey, I think everything came out roses!  As many of you know, the whole reason we ventured westward was to see the Police reunion concert for H's birthday, and for those of you who know her, you know this was, well, kind of a big deal.  So the fact that we made it there and back without any of the rest of us being sold into slavery for better seats or back stage passes is just short of miraculous, if you ask me.  ;o)

Also on the miraculous tip, Team Amanda's Car as one of the brothers Auvil dubbed us somehow managed to leave town only about 30 minutes later than our 10 am target.  I don't know how that happened, as it generally takes Chris and I between 2 and 4 hours to get out of town going anywhere farther than Destin - for the day.  But we did it, and accomplished all our goals, too.  We made good time getting to New Orleans, and if it weren't for one fateful bathroom stop in what may be the worst place in Mississippi, and shall remain nameless to protect the innocent, we might have had time for a nap before H, lower case- h and J checked in next door.

We stayed at the Bourbon Orleans on the corner of Bourbon St. and Orleans St.  Our suite was pretty cool, two-story, with a bed and bath loft area upstairs and a wetbar and living area downstairs that opened onto a balcony over Bourbon St.  This was good and bad.  It was really cool being able to watch all the drunk people down on the street and not be down there amongst it all.  But then, there was also no escaping it.  You could close the french doors, but you could still hear the music.  Chris, Dave, and I were right next door to the other gals, so we called the front desk to get them to unlock the bars separating our balconies, giving us one huge balcony and easy access to each other's rooms.  Then J came out with champagne for everyone, and we had a toast before heading off to the meeting spot for the tour we had reservations for. 

So we went on the Haunted History Tour.  My advice?  Skip it.  If you see it coming toward you?  Run.  It was terrible.  A complete rip-off.  One web-site said amongst other things that we'd get to "tour residences" where hauntings supposedly have occurred.  Horseshit.  What they really mean is, you give a guy 20 dollars per person to take you on a walk and tell you stuff you could have looked up on the internet.  You never get to go inside anywhere.  I'm a reasonably intelligent person, but about 50% of the time, I couldn't even follow what this guy was talking about.  He was not interesting, he was not a very good public speaker, and he jumped around from subject to subject.  It was confusing.  If you want to look at haunted places, look online before you get to the city.  I learned more in 20 minutes online than the 2 hours I spent trudging around after this kook.   Make a list of interesting places, then get a map, and walk around yourself.  If you're not with a group of twenty people, you can actually go inside some of these "haunted" hotels and look around, instead of just gazing sweatily from the hot, smelly sidewalk.  Total racket. 

After going back to the hotel, we had dinner reservations at Dickie Brennan's Bourbon House Seafood and Oyster Bar.  We walked there, and made it just in time.  We got a nice table in the window, J selected a nice bottle of wine for the table, and we ordered about 3 million appetizers.  I'm not kidding.  At least 3 dozen oysters were ordered.  Two or three bowls of soup.   Deviled stuffed crab.  What was funny is that little h ordered most of it, at the same time she ordered her food.  It was a little funny.  I guess you had to be there.   My entree was the Redfish on the Halfshell.  If you go there, order it!  It was phenomenal.  But make sure you get the lump crab meat topping.  It comes in some kind of wine sauce and costs an extra 10 bucks, but it's worth it. 

   MMMM!

After dinner, Chris and I went back to the room.   I woke up around 2, and Chris was not in bed, so I went down to find him.  He was out on the balcony by himself.  This was right after The Drunk Guy.   Chris had seen a guy coming down the street, and at first had thought he was retarded or handicapped in some way.  He was walking weird and holding his arms all strange.  But as he got closer, he realized the dude was just that wasted.  He commented about how it was a little disturbing to see, once he realized that he knew how that felt.  I had to laugh because I knew too.  But I still made him describe it.  The big,  fast steps where your feet are trying desperately to keep up with your body, which is always a foot or so ahead.  How your legs sometimes wander off to the sides.  How you may get within 5 feet of a streetlight, so you reach out to grab it to steady yourself.  But you miss.  Because it's still 5 feet away.  Yet you bump into people and walls and poles that, I don't know, you somehow just didn't see?   This kid was so drunk, yet so determined to keep walking that strangers he literally ran into started helping him along.  Song blasting from the bars at the time?  "Take your drunk ass home"  So not kidding.  Only on Bourbon Street.

Saturday morning.  Woke up a little after 8.  Got dressed and met up with everyone to go to Cafe DuMonde for beignets.  Yum.  So glad they don't have those here!  Afterwards, did some shopping, found a birthday gift for H.  It was too funny.  A shirt that said "POLICE.   GET ON THE FLOOR AND SPREAD EM.  NEW ORLEANS."  Or something very close to that.  So we decided that would be her concert tee.  It started raining, which sucked, so we went to the Cabildo Museum.  It was only six bucks.  But it was rather disappointing.  I don't know what I was expecting, but that wasn't it.  It was a little boring.  A lot of reading.  Not as much cool stuff to look at as I thought there'd be.  Turns out I'm a tougher audience than I knew.  If you're going to go to a museum, the WWII museum is much more interesting.  Chris and I went to that last year and enjoyed it.   Next we had lunch at some place across from the museum.  I'm blanking on the name.  I didn't think the food was that great, it was reasonably priced for New Orleans, but they automatically include gratuity for all parties, and the service was wholly unremarkable. 

Next was the casino.  Harrah's.  This was the one place I really wanted to go while we were there, as Chris and I had such good luck last year.  It has really expanded since we were there.  Much more of everything.  We played some video poker, got some free drinks, and tried to work up the nerve to hit the blackjack tables.  It was really crowded, being the middle of the day, and all the low limit tables were full.  We eventually found two seats and a 15 dollar minimum table, and played for a few hours.  I was getting awful cards for the longest time.  I was down to my last 15 bucks when i finally hit a blackjack, and then I steadily came back until I doubled up the 200 I bought in with.  Chris did well the whole time.  We should have left then, but we played some more, and I lost a little, but still left about 70 ahead.  Nothing like last year when we left with 800 bucks.  We still made a few hundred, which really helped with the cost of the trip.  We got a cab back to the hotel.  It was the crappiest cab I have ever seen.  Dave literally had to sit next to a spare tire.  There was a hole in the dashboard where the radio should have been.  It was unreal.  But somehow it made it back to the hotel.  Time to get ready for the concert!

So we took a cab to the concert, and got there and inside and to our seats just as the opening act was starting.  There were SO many people there!  Our seats were phenomenal.  We were on the floor 8th row,  towards the middle on the Sting side.  We were SO close!  From the moment the Police took the stage, the whole arena was on their feet, and it pretty much stayed that way the entire 2 hour show.  It was so great!  I don't know if I've ever been at a show with that much crowd energy.  It was really exciting.  And the show was great.  What made it even better was to look over at H and her sister every once in a while.  You can't look at someone that sublimely happy without feeling a little of it yourself.  I have never seen anybody rock out quite the way H rocked out that night.  I'm pretty sure it was historic.  I couldn't see J and Dave.  Here are some pictures from the NOLA paper. 

After the concert, there were no cabs to be found so we had to walk a good long ways.  I hadn't thought of this, and didn't wear my walking shoes.  Huge mistake.  Soon I had blisters that were bleeding on my feet, and I just couldn't make it  anymore, so Chris and I grabbed the first cab we saw and went back home.  If you go to New Orleans, make sure you take a pair of truly comfortable shoes.  Because you will be walking.  A lot.  

We ordered in Italian from a place called Rotelo's that delivered.  It was convenient, and good at 2 am.   I still had a headache, so i laid down and passed right out.  The others played music and sang on the hotel balcony.  We slept in and requested a late checkout on Sunday.  Another thing, if your hotel offers any rewards program, sign up for it.  We saved over a hundred bucks on our late checkout by signing up for Wyndham ByRequest.  We also got free internet access, which is how we found food while we were there.  Lots of hotels offer little perks like that, so check it out. 

Anyway, that's about it.  I drank very little which I think contributed to my enjoyment of the trip.  I was already fighting a migraine, all I needed was a hangover on top of that.  None of us really got out of control, we all got along, and I think things went pretty well.  My one regret is that my stupid camera never made it out of the bag.  We kept forgetting it.  So we will have to ask the others for pictures.  Turns out they are much better travelers than we are.  So hopefully we will reminisce vicariously through them. 

As for the hotel, we probably won't stay there again.  The bed wasn't very comfortable, and the sofa bed that poor Dave had to sleep on was truly tragic.  The foot of the bed rested on the floor and it had no sheets whatsoever.  It was nowhere near as nice and relaxing as the Windsor Court, where Chris and I stayed this time last year.  We didn't have a balcony, but the room was about the same size, and we paid less.  And everything was nicer.  Much nicer.  And quieter.  I guess maybe we're just getting old.   But maybe old ain't so bad.  At least it comes with a comfy place to sleep.

I Was the Victim of an Undomesticated Terrorist

So, I honestly don't remember the last time I got as thoroughly, intensely, blood-boilingly pissed off as i was a few minutes ago.  My heart has only just now stopped its pounding. 
First, a little background.  We had a big flower pot on the front porch.  For approximately 2.5 weeks it had flowers, a few more weeks flower carcasses, and for the last 9 months or so, dirt.  Until Molly (our cat) started crapping in it recently, with no regard for the mental wellbeing of her audience, who may be sitting as close 2 feet away.  So, we had to move it off the porch. 
About a week ago,  Molly was outside on the porch by herself for a while, and she took it upon herself to pee on one of the back pillows that i like to sit on for extra butt cushion, and shit in the corner where the flower pot used to be.  Then Chris left her out on the front porch overnight.  She went ahead and ate a frog, barfed on a padded folding chair and peed on the 90 dollar Pier 1 cushion for the wicker bench.  Butthole.  THEN, and only then does she decide to bust through the screen of the porch like some kind of feline Incredible Hulk, and roam the streets all night.  She couldn't have done that when nature was calling from her every orifice???  This cat is on a rampage.  *It should be noted that she again peed on the spot that I usually sit in.  I am beginning to suspect that this cat hates me. 
Well today, she has been bugging the crap out of me, meowing like mad.  She wants in, she wants out, she wants food, etc.  I cater to her every whim all frappin day.  She's been out on the front porch with me.  She's been inside with me.  I start watching a news program on TV, and she starts the isane whiny meowing again. I already fed her, so I get up to let her out, but she won't go out either door.  So I sit back down.  A few minutes later, I smell the unmistakeable aroma of cat piss, truly the stuff of nightmares.  Shit!  I jump up and run toward the smell, and there's a huge puddle of piss on our bed.  On my side, naturally.  I yank the sheet off, trying to save the memory foam, but it's too late.  Now I notice the edge of the down comforter is in it, too, and I'm on the verge of something between an aneurysm and a nervous breakdown.  When I go to grab an old towel to sop up the putrid mess, I discover in the hall a large pile of turds, and suffice it to say, I am not one to shit on the carpet.  Perfect.  Perfect!!!  What, has she been saving up for a fucking week for this shitapalooza? 
My new discovery puts me completely over the edge.  I clean that up, while hurling profanities at noone in particular, and leave Chris a rather excitable voice mail informing him that HIS cat is a MotherFing asshole.  How come he never answers his phone during true crises like these?  Then I return to the mess on the bed, getting madder every second, because with every passing second the smell seems to get worse, and now I have cat piss on my HANDS!  Bear in mind, by this time, I have taken complete leave of my senses.  Well, all my senses except maybe smell, so I now begin to chase the cat.  Something good is going to come of this tragedy, I have determined.  She runs behind the couch, I pull the couch out and am right behind her.  She goes under the bed, I'm right there with her, literally slinging a sock at her.  I'm not kidding.  Like I said, my brain wasn't exactly running on all cylinders, and it was the first thing within reach.  I'm screaming, furniture's flying, but I eventually corner her.  And that guilty little varmint couldn't even look me in the eye!  I guess I've just lived with dogs for too long.  Because I took that little turd into the bedroom and I put her nose on that soiled sheet and we had a brief, albeit heated and one-sided discussion about the propriety of pissing on it.  We then went out to her litterbox and informed her that this is where such activities were to take place in the future.  
And then I tossed her bad ass out the back door.  It was for her own good.  Trust me.

Can't Make This Stuff Up

Came across this blog by Practically Harmless on blogspot.com.  Made me laugh.
Okay, so it looks like the White House has hired a new pastry chef. William Yosses, the First Lady says, "has a light touch with desserts, and the enthusiasm with which he approaches his profession makes him a real asset for all of us.''

Basically, it means that the man who'll be making dessert for this guy:


is the man who wrote this book:


Can't. Make it. Up.


Currently Listening:

Pics From Atlanta Trip for Eric Clapton Show

So I guess it's time to post some pictures from our mountain trip.  The weekend of Oct. 14, we went to Georgia for the weekend for the Eric Clapton concert.  We rented a big house in the mountains for all of our friends to stay in before the concert and spend time together.  We left on Friday for a trip that should have taken 7 hours.  Naturally it took us about 11.  We thought we'd never get there, and the last little road up the mountain, I was pretty certain we were all going to die.  

We got there around midnight eastern time, but there was a lovely fire waiting for us, and we spent some time unwinding.  The house was amazing.  It was also FREEZING outside.  But that didn't stop us from hopping in the jacuzzi on the deck.  And we saw the sun rise Saturday morning.  The views were breathtaking.  We just couldn't capture them with my little digital camera. 

We slept a lot Saturday, then I marinated steaks and made bread while Chris and Shane got potatoes ready so that we'd be ready to put everything on the grill and in the oven after the concert.  We all got dressed and headed out for the show.

The concert was awesome.  We were a little late, so we just caught part of Robert Cray's set, but he was really great.  Then Eric Clapton was, of course, awesome.   Derek Trucks was with him, and he was great too.  Our seats were aisle seats on the floor and they were really good, except maybe for the guy next to us who appeared under the impression that he had paid for 1 and 1/2 seats, which he used throughout most of the show, no matter that Chris was underneath him.  Poor Chris.  And bless him for trading seats with me when he did.  I no doubt would have punched the guy before it was over, I'd already given him the look a few times while he was in my lap, complete with the requisite "ahem", but he seemed wholly unmoved.  He was clearly an asshole.  I would have had words and we'd have been stuck there for hours in an uncomfortable situation with this greasy pretty-boy personal-bubble intruder.  Chris just nudged back and tried to ignore him.  It is a strange feeling dating someone who is so much better a person than you.  At any rate, the wonderful concert ended, we met up with friends outside, then drove back to the house.  We had a kick-ass dinner of steak, roasted garlic and rosemary potatoes and onions and toasted bread with a compound butter and bleu cheese sprinkles, a recipe my friend Scottie taught me.  It was all so yummy, we ate at like 2 in the morning.  But it was awesome.  Here are some pictures from our great adventure

 

 

The living room. 

The hot tub. 

 

 

The fire pit.

Mountains....

What? Shane blurry?  I think you've probably had just about enough to drink.

Shane again.  What do you mean he's blurry?  Look, I think you might have a serious problem.  Stop blaming the photographer, and get yourself some help.  I mean, sure it's five o'clock somewhere...but...hey, wait.   It's after five here!  I gotta go. 

Currently reading : Static: Government Liars, Media Cheerleaders, and the People Who Fight Back By Amy Goodman Release date: 05 September, 2006

Complacency

Does nobody care anymore?  Has the world today really devolved into so many myopic slices of egocentricity, where far too few can be moved to give a shit beyond their own tiny, relative, complacent existences?  That's what I see more and more from where I sit.  People getting comfortable and losing perspective, forgetting the millions and millions of those who aren't.  And just not caring to even give them a moment's consideration. 

 

The other night I had a discussion which at some point degenerated into an argument with two acquaintances who happen to be republicans.   I don't even remember the beginning.  It was the end that upset me so.  We had gotten onto the subject of taxes and I was hearing the familiar refrain of "why should the rich have to pay a higher percentage than the poor," etc.  And then they actually told me that they could see no relationship whatsoever between the corporate fatcats making millions of dollars and the minimum wage workers they employ.  Those minimum wage workers have options.  They aren't forced to work for that company for wages that they can barely live on.  So it is perfectly OK to raise their taxes to a rate equal to that of the wealthy, reducing their income below that required for basic subsistence, and the wealthy should bear no social nor moral responsibility whatsoever in making up the difference.  So we push a few thousand more Americans into literal starvation, so a few more can buy another boat, but hey.  That's capitalism.  They have options.  It was when I realized that these people arguing with me were being glib, flip, even just playing devil's advocate at times and laughing at my passion that I ended the discussion.  This stuff isn't funny.  It's real life.  It means something to me. 

 

The people these two hecklers insist have options are the very foundation of our economy.  None of our big businesses can exist without products and services produced and provided at the lowest cost therefore the highest profit.  Somehow profits keep going up, the cost of living keeps going up.  Wages don't.  Someone has to make up the difference.  As long as companies aren't willing to take care of their own, the taxpayers have to.  Those who are already living at the poverty line can't pay more taxes.  They just can't.  How can people of good conscience ask them to?

 

It goes beyond taxes.  I don't profess to be an expert on fiscal matters.  It all seems pretty common sense, really.  In my opinion, it all boils down to greed.  People are greedy.  Corporations are greedy.  I worked for one of the world's largest communications companies.  I went to quarterly meetings.  I tried to cheer and be excited as we heard about yet another quarter of record sales – sales I made.  But that's tough to do when I'm barely paying my bills, and from one year to the next my income went down 5,000 dollars because they restructured their commission payouts.  My hourly rate went up, a little, not as much as inflation, but my annual income literally went down, significantly, because they decided to pay less for the people who were on their front lines, dealing with their irate customers, selling their products, the very lifeline of their business.  Their annual income?  Record high, of course.  I'm afraid I don't see how that's fair.

 

You have full-time employees of the world's largest retailer being encouraged by their managers to rely on public assistance for their healthcare because they simply aren't paid enough to afford their own company healthplan.  And if they complain, they're fired.  Unionize to better their positions?  Fired.  These folks are a dime a dozen and they're told as much from the get-go.  They are individuals who do not matter to society until they inevitably become a burden to society.  Then society has plenty to say.   

 

It happens everywhere, everyday.  Retail.  Manufacturing.  Telecommunications.  Hospitality.  Wage-laborers, though vitally important, get the shit end of the capitalist stick.  And someone else bitches about having to provide their healthcare, or food stamps, or pay more in taxes.  Greed.  And I'm sick, tired, weary of it. 

 

Why do I have to care so much?  This is more than some after-dinner sporting event to me.  More than a chance to throw around statistics in a pissing contest, a chance to see who's smartest, who can outwit who.  This isn't some debate club for the pushing-30 who didn't make the real debate club – arm-chair politicking.  These things keep me up at night.  They break my heart.  I look at the world around me and don't recognize it.  I wonder how things got this bad.  I wonder why other people can't or won't see it.  I cry.  Oh, man, do I cry.  I wish someone, or something, would just fix it all.  Make everything right.  I wish someone would give me all the answers instead of so many troubling questions

tired

I am so damned tired of feeling so damned SAD.  Will this constant black cloud EVER lift itself from where it seems seems so content lately right over my life?  Despair the depths of which I am growing accustomed to lately are of use only to poets, to artists, to blues singers maybe.  I am none of the three, (those of you who were at Pockets that one fateful karaoke evening can absolutely vouch for the latter).  Point is, why?  Why can't I just be happy again?  Why can't I stop the tears?  Why am I even writing this?  Who am I even talking to?

Roe. Wade. Whatever...This is Just Plain Wrong

Pro-life.  Pro-choice.  Most of us have by now developed a position on abortion.  For many, it seems that position is quite a passionate one on a subject that remains mercifully abstract, never giving us cause to test it.  Others, thousands of others, are not quite so lucky.  They come face to face with an unplanned pregnancy, and whatever their convictions once were, they may find them coming into question.  Women look for help in reevaluating their situation and making the best choice they can.  Seems to me we could at least give them the truth.  Just the truth.  

I read the following article a few moments ago.  It pisses me off a little.  We fund these clinics.  And they LIE.  They take away a person's right to make a decision about their own life with all the information available to them. And then, we abandon them.  Clearly these people's agenda is to discourage abortion.  But who's taking care of the babies?  Because it certainly isn't those 17-year-olds.  And it certainly isn't the politicians who are oh so eager to cut social programs right and left.  OK.  I think it's time for angry Amanda to go to bed.  

 

Report: Women Misled on Abortion Risks

By KEVIN FREKING, Associated Press Writer

Rep. Henry Waxman, D-Calif., talks to reporters

WASHINGTON - Women who consult with pregnancy resource centers often get misleading information about the health risks associated with having an abortion, according to a report issued Monday by Democrats on the House Government Reform Committee.
Congressional aides, posing as pregnant 17-year-olds, called 25 pregnancy centers that have received some federal funding over the past five years.
The aides were routinely told of increased risk for cancer, infertility and stress disorders, said the report, which was prepared for Rep. Henry Waxman, D-Calif.
Only a small fraction of the more than 4,000 pregnancy clinics nationwide get any federal funding, mostly for promoting sexual abstinence.
With a few exceptions, the federal government doesn't give money specifically for the counseling operations, but Waxman's staff said 25 centers got "capacity building grants." Thus, Waxman said, they should be held accountable for the information they dispense.
Of the 25 centers called, two could not be reached. Eight told the caller that abortion leads to a greater risk of breast cancer, the report said.
Care Net, an umbrella group for evangelical pregnancy centers across the country, instructs its affiliates to tell callers there is a possibility that abortion can lead to greater risk of breast cancer, according to Molly Ford, an official with the organization. She said there have been several studies that say it does, and several that say it doesn't.
"I know the report is wanting to say that it's conclusive, but it isn't," Ford said.
None of the pregnancy centers the committee staff called was identified, and it could not be determined if any were linked to Care Net, which has helped about a quarter of the nation's pregnancy centers begin operations.
One pregnancy center told a congressional aide the risk of cancer after an abortion could be 80 percent higher, the report noted. Ford said she doubted a pregnancy center would go that far, but the Web site for a pregnancy center in Albuquerque says the risk for cancer after an abortion is 50 percent or greater.
In February 2003, a National Cancer Institute workshop concluded that having an abortion or miscarriage does not increase a woman's subsequent risk of developing breast cancer.
The report from the Democratic aides also said the pregnancy resource centers provided false information about the mental health effects of abortion, telling the aides that it could cause severe long-term emotional harm.
However, an American Psychological Association panel said, "Severe negative reactions are rare."
But Ford said that pregnancy center counselors don't need statistics to tell them that many women undergoing an abortion experience severe emotional trauma.
"This isn't about a medical statistic to us. We do post-abortion counseling every day," Ford said.
The Administration for Children and Families within the Department of Health and Human Services funds the abstinence programs overseen by some of the pregnancy centers. Aides referred questions about the report to Wade Horn, a Health and Human Services assistant secretary, who did not want to comment until he read the report.
Waxman said that Americans are divided on the issue of abortion, but no one should support misleading teenagers about basic medical facts.
" It's wrong to pour millions of federal dollars into organizations that are providing false health information to vulnerable teenagers," Waxman said.
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On the Net:
Committee on Government Reform report, minority staff: http://www.democrats.reform.house.gov/
Care Net: http://www.care-net.org/