Okay, so if there's anything left of Faulkner, it rolled over in it's grave...
I'm so freakin' sick. It's been years since I've felt this horrible, but this is what the stress of life brings you to...
My doctor was quite impressed, actually. I have three diseases attacking my body: Bronchitis, Laryngitis, and a sinus infection. Go me, eh? It started on Saturday night as an annoying cough--you know, like "Feels like I have something tickling the back of my throat" kind of things. I woke up Sunday feeling like a Mac truck had run over me a couple of times, followed by a steam roller, followed by a garbage truck...
And I don't know how you stay-at-home people do it. There is absolutely nothing... NOTHING worth watching on daytime TV. Luckily, one of my prescriptions puts me right too sleep so I don't suffer too much...
I have a line-up of things to blog about, but they'll have to wait until my body heals...
Tuesday, March 27, 2007
Friday, March 23, 2007
The Veto's of the Bush Presidency...
So today, Bush has promised that he will use the second veto of his presidency to deny troops funds because he doesn't like it when someone else calls the shots...
Bush's first veto was to stop a bill on stem cell research, a technology that has the potential of saving lives which a majority of Americans support. Bush's second veto will be to prevent a pull out of Iraq, which has the potential of saving countless soldiers' lives: physically, mentally, and emotionally...
And this is a compassionate conservative?
Bush's first veto was to stop a bill on stem cell research, a technology that has the potential of saving lives which a majority of Americans support. Bush's second veto will be to prevent a pull out of Iraq, which has the potential of saving countless soldiers' lives: physically, mentally, and emotionally...
And this is a compassionate conservative?
Thursday, March 22, 2007
I Wish They All Could Be California...
Richard is pretty much forcing my hand...
I've resisted for years. In fact, ever since that first day out of the military when I slept in till 10 a.m., I haven't lifted a finger or walked a step for the purpose of "staying in shape."
I'm that lazy.
But here we are, almost eight years later and at least 30 to 50 pounds heavier each. And with an impending island vacation within the next fourteen months (give or take), Rich is feeling the call of the six-pack, and not the liquid kind either...
So he made an appointment to tour a gym facility halfway between my work and home, but totally out of the way for himself. He's going out of his way intentionally to make sure I have no excuse to avoid exercise...
Which, in a way, is very sweet... And very annoying.
Sigh. So at noon on Saturday, I will go to the home of the Gym Bunnies--where the people live to work-out, feel "refreshed" after exhausting their bodies on the machines of mayhem, with their steel weights and chrome highlights. Where bicycles take you no where and treadmills stare at televisions to make you feel like--any minute now--all the walking you are doing will put you in Regis and Kelly's studio audience.
Funny, The Land of the Lost theme song just popped into my head... Coincidence?
So I suppose I'm going to be a Gym Bunny, come hell or high water...
I can't promise I won't every now and then talk about "how great it feels" and "How much energy I have"--of course, this is assuming I actually find a reason to go to the gym... I'm hoping for a Lehigh Valley Brad Pitt wanna-be who will keep the same hours I do so I have something pretty to look at while punishing myself for not having a faster metabolism...
So begins my personal "War on Fat." This means I'll likely have to compose an "Axis of Evil" ("...in other news, Rosie O'Donnel, Cathryn Manheim, and Buford Stephenson the III have been arrested in what appears to be a sting operation in the continuing War on Fat... We go to our field anchor, Ms. Skinny Dip... Skinny?"), declare war on unsuspecting food groups which have nothing to do with my gut ("Intelligence reports indicate that Broccoli now causes cancer! For more, we turn to Skinny Dip at the White House... Skinny?"), perhaps even give no-bid contracts to BowFlex just for having hot guys in their commercials ("...it seems that Chuck Norris really uses a BowFlex! Users of the AbFlex are outraged at such blatant homosexual propaganda. We go now live to Skinny Dip at BowFlex headquarters, Skinny?"). Of course, to top it all off, I'm going to have to admit mistakes in other areas of my Fitness Administration ("...Hawthorne seen letting himself out to do his business. Animal Cruelty? Or awesome doggy-door installation! You be the judge, today, on the People's Court!"), ignore parts of the world that get flooded ("Basemantic Ocean now spilling over into neighbors yard! Neighbors form brute squad in the absence of any type of acknowledgment from the Cape Cod House... Where are our fearless, abs-of-steel leaders? Tonight, on Geraldo!), and basically smile like a moron if anyone questions the most idiotic of things I might do... ("... and we have more on that story of Jason and Rich trying to mow their lawn with a goat as a time saving measure. Skinny, what's the scoop?") in an effort to go to the gym...
Geez, I'm tired just thinking about it...
Sigh. My only consolation is, though I would still be in shape if I had stayed in the military, it would be due to the embalming fluid they pumped me full of before they shipped me home from Iraq in a coffin....
And that's how we sign off on a Happy Thought around here. Catch ya's later...
I've resisted for years. In fact, ever since that first day out of the military when I slept in till 10 a.m., I haven't lifted a finger or walked a step for the purpose of "staying in shape."
I'm that lazy.
But here we are, almost eight years later and at least 30 to 50 pounds heavier each. And with an impending island vacation within the next fourteen months (give or take), Rich is feeling the call of the six-pack, and not the liquid kind either...
So he made an appointment to tour a gym facility halfway between my work and home, but totally out of the way for himself. He's going out of his way intentionally to make sure I have no excuse to avoid exercise...
Which, in a way, is very sweet... And very annoying.
Sigh. So at noon on Saturday, I will go to the home of the Gym Bunnies--where the people live to work-out, feel "refreshed" after exhausting their bodies on the machines of mayhem, with their steel weights and chrome highlights. Where bicycles take you no where and treadmills stare at televisions to make you feel like--any minute now--all the walking you are doing will put you in Regis and Kelly's studio audience.
Funny, The Land of the Lost theme song just popped into my head... Coincidence?
So I suppose I'm going to be a Gym Bunny, come hell or high water...
I can't promise I won't every now and then talk about "how great it feels" and "How much energy I have"--of course, this is assuming I actually find a reason to go to the gym... I'm hoping for a Lehigh Valley Brad Pitt wanna-be who will keep the same hours I do so I have something pretty to look at while punishing myself for not having a faster metabolism...
So begins my personal "War on Fat." This means I'll likely have to compose an "Axis of Evil" ("...in other news, Rosie O'Donnel, Cathryn Manheim, and Buford Stephenson the III have been arrested in what appears to be a sting operation in the continuing War on Fat... We go to our field anchor, Ms. Skinny Dip... Skinny?"), declare war on unsuspecting food groups which have nothing to do with my gut ("Intelligence reports indicate that Broccoli now causes cancer! For more, we turn to Skinny Dip at the White House... Skinny?"), perhaps even give no-bid contracts to BowFlex just for having hot guys in their commercials ("...it seems that Chuck Norris really uses a BowFlex! Users of the AbFlex are outraged at such blatant homosexual propaganda. We go now live to Skinny Dip at BowFlex headquarters, Skinny?"). Of course, to top it all off, I'm going to have to admit mistakes in other areas of my Fitness Administration ("...Hawthorne seen letting himself out to do his business. Animal Cruelty? Or awesome doggy-door installation! You be the judge, today, on the People's Court!"), ignore parts of the world that get flooded ("Basemantic Ocean now spilling over into neighbors yard! Neighbors form brute squad in the absence of any type of acknowledgment from the Cape Cod House... Where are our fearless, abs-of-steel leaders? Tonight, on Geraldo!), and basically smile like a moron if anyone questions the most idiotic of things I might do... ("... and we have more on that story of Jason and Rich trying to mow their lawn with a goat as a time saving measure. Skinny, what's the scoop?") in an effort to go to the gym...
Geez, I'm tired just thinking about it...
Sigh. My only consolation is, though I would still be in shape if I had stayed in the military, it would be due to the embalming fluid they pumped me full of before they shipped me home from Iraq in a coffin....
And that's how we sign off on a Happy Thought around here. Catch ya's later...
Tuesday, March 20, 2007
Did You Hear the One About the Lawyer?
Yeah, we're all sick of hearing about it, granted. Most of you probably don't know (or don't care) about the fact that once more Dancing Monkey has screwed up, gotten caught, you're all gonna let him off the hook (again!) by ignoring the blatant morons of our government...
But get this latest... irony... in the "Fired Attorneys" saga...
How convenient...
Same White House that "made mistakes" during Katrina. "Made mistakes" about WMD in Iraq. "Made mistakes" with the surplus he inherited from a Democrat. Want to know of some of his other "successes" as president?
I'd still love to meet the 31% of Americans who claim this moron is "doing a good job." You don't believe anything on that list? You have access to Google. Use it.
But get this latest... irony... in the "Fired Attorneys" saga...
So, Bush is going to let them testify... As long as they be allowed to lie. I mean, that would be the whole point of stipultaing they not be under oath, right?
The White House will allow key presidential aide Karl Rove and former
counsel Harriet Miers to be interviewed by committees probing the firings
of U.S. attorneys, but they will not testify under oath, Rep. Chris Cannon
says.
How convenient...
Same White House that "made mistakes" during Katrina. "Made mistakes" about WMD in Iraq. "Made mistakes" with the surplus he inherited from a Democrat. Want to know of some of his other "successes" as president?
I'd still love to meet the 31% of Americans who claim this moron is "doing a good job." You don't believe anything on that list? You have access to Google. Use it.
Be Fruitful and...
Of course, they forget to mention "to everything there is a season," but that's for another time...
I recently read a fascinating article in which a tribe of little known pygmies, called the Tehrone, has decided to go extinct of their own volition. In their words, "Because our babies are born not good."
Later that same week, I came across this picture:
At which point does the rate of multiplication upon the earth become to much for the earth to bear? The Tehrone didn't have much of a choice: their children died most of the time, and the ones that lived--well, they weren't good. And not in the way most people in this country view not good. As in, not that we are sinful creatures in need of a savior, but in that, our babies aren't right. Genetically unstable. From the article:
Are children really a blessing when you take them so much for granted that you can pop out fourteen of them? It doesn't even take a thought, does it?
Not that everyone wants kids--I'm not saying everyone should! In fact, I could make a list hundreds of names long of people who shouldn't have children, but that, too, is for another time.
And our society (mostly due to right-wing influence) has become so enamored with the children that now--now everything must be so pure, so clean just in case there's a child around. A child might hear. A child might see. Darkmind posted on this a little while ago, hitting the nail on the head, I think, in many areas of his thinking... But, being as he's having kind of a rough patch right now (we all have them...), he deleted it, so I am unable to share it with you... But he touched on a lot of points in which our culture has elevated children to god-like status, where everything--everything--must be with kids in mind. Will they see it? Will they ask what that is? What will they think of that? Will this give them a naughty idea? And he asks, What in the hell ever happened to adult time? Adult thing to do? Cause he's right--it's become all about the children, and mostly not for anyone's benefit except the child worshippers.
I want a child--more than almost anything else in life. And although I am unwilling to find a chick, chain her up in a storage shed and stick her on an IV drip (one of Darkie's more nefarious ideas that made me LOL), the desire to have a child and the desire to live life are two separate things that have somehow merged into a cult. Live life for the kids. Kids are no longer a by-product in society--they are the sole reason for society, a very dangerous--even sick--world view.
How are children to learn if they are never exposed to anything? How are kids supposed to know how to deal with life if they are kept shielded from everything? Protected form everything?
I remember when I hit seventh grade--CULTURE SHOCK! I had spent the first 12 years of my life in church. Church, and the private school the church ran. Everything was spoon-fed, nothing bad was spoken about, hinted at. Sure, we learned about how lying was bad, stealing was bad, but mostly we heard about the evil, evil world which surrounded us.
And then my parents dropped me willy-nilly into that world--the year I turned 13, of all ages! People wore T-shirts to school! Jeans! They listened to--dare I say?--rock music! It took many, many months before I even spoke to another kid at school, let alone "participated in class." I was terrified! And to think--and I can say this now--I was one of the lucky few to escape the hold of religion through pure chance!! I was in a worldly, social environment long before the brain washing had time to set. No rinse and repeat for me! I can only imagine what a full-fledged "adult" would feel after spending eighteen years in such an environment! No wonder so many of them become pastors and housewives!! "Escape! Escape! The world is coming! The world is coming!"
The disservice to the children of this nation is astronomical, both in the church and without... The world isn't exactly a gold-standard bearer when it comes to their kids either.
But at least children from the world can deal with the world--not always well, and not always with the right mind-set or decision-making skills... But better prepared than the cult-kids of Christ...
Bless the children indeed...
I recently read a fascinating article in which a tribe of little known pygmies, called the Tehrone, has decided to go extinct of their own volition. In their words, "Because our babies are born not good."
Later that same week, I came across this picture:
At which point does the rate of multiplication upon the earth become to much for the earth to bear? The Tehrone didn't have much of a choice: their children died most of the time, and the ones that lived--well, they weren't good. And not in the way most people in this country view not good. As in, not that we are sinful creatures in need of a savior, but in that, our babies aren't right. Genetically unstable. From the article:
Willingly going extinct. Knowing that you may be the last of your people, your tribe...
Mr. RABINOWITZ: First of all, they had huge goiters. One of them is clearly very retarded.
KRULWICH: But most of all, there were only five of them. Because you were expecting to see 50 people or 60 people?
Mr. RABINOWITZ: I was expecting to see an entire village of them, because that village originally in the '60s had been all Tehrone.
KRULWICH: But then it was explained that these people before him were the last intact pygmy family in the valley.
Mr. RABINOWITZ: They were the last full family of Tehrone left.
KRULWICH: And who knows, maybe they were the last full family of Tehrone in the world.
Are children really a blessing when you take them so much for granted that you can pop out fourteen of them? It doesn't even take a thought, does it?
Yeah, I wonder if they feel special, knowing they never get any individual attention. I only had four siblings, and I can only imagine the cacophony that fourteen would make!
Woman: Here, honey, put your tab into my slot.
Man: Do what, you Jezebel?
Woman: Well, I don't know what it's called! We never had Sex Ed., remember?
Man: Well, whatever it's called...
Woman: Listen, it's that time, okay? The youngest is now three months old!
Man: Okay. Time to make another blessing...
Woman: Well, if it happens, it happens.
Man: But sex is only meant for making babies! That's why we need to stop the gays! We have to keep what we can do special.
Woman: (Sigh.) Then, yes, it's because we're trying to make another baby, okay? Geez, why can't we just have sex?
Man: Oh, we can, just don't tell the gays...
The other side of the fence--how many of us don't have children because we think we'll be bad at it--we'll fail them miserably?
Mr. RABINOWITZ: Dowi's sadness, his answer sort of just threw me back on my feet so much that I just started talking to him. I just started saying, well, you know, I don't have any children either.
KRULWICH: And that was a choice, he said. I chose not to.
Mr. RABINOWITZ: I was unhappy, I told him, and sad with a lot of parts of my life and that my woman wanted a baby, and I didn't know if I should have a baby because I didn't think I was good enough to have a baby.
Not that everyone wants kids--I'm not saying everyone should! In fact, I could make a list hundreds of names long of people who shouldn't have children, but that, too, is for another time.
And our society (mostly due to right-wing influence) has become so enamored with the children that now--now everything must be so pure, so clean just in case there's a child around. A child might hear. A child might see. Darkmind posted on this a little while ago, hitting the nail on the head, I think, in many areas of his thinking... But, being as he's having kind of a rough patch right now (we all have them...), he deleted it, so I am unable to share it with you... But he touched on a lot of points in which our culture has elevated children to god-like status, where everything--everything--must be with kids in mind. Will they see it? Will they ask what that is? What will they think of that? Will this give them a naughty idea? And he asks, What in the hell ever happened to adult time? Adult thing to do? Cause he's right--it's become all about the children, and mostly not for anyone's benefit except the child worshippers.
I want a child--more than almost anything else in life. And although I am unwilling to find a chick, chain her up in a storage shed and stick her on an IV drip (one of Darkie's more nefarious ideas that made me LOL), the desire to have a child and the desire to live life are two separate things that have somehow merged into a cult. Live life for the kids. Kids are no longer a by-product in society--they are the sole reason for society, a very dangerous--even sick--world view.
How are children to learn if they are never exposed to anything? How are kids supposed to know how to deal with life if they are kept shielded from everything? Protected form everything?
I remember when I hit seventh grade--CULTURE SHOCK! I had spent the first 12 years of my life in church. Church, and the private school the church ran. Everything was spoon-fed, nothing bad was spoken about, hinted at. Sure, we learned about how lying was bad, stealing was bad, but mostly we heard about the evil, evil world which surrounded us.
And then my parents dropped me willy-nilly into that world--the year I turned 13, of all ages! People wore T-shirts to school! Jeans! They listened to--dare I say?--rock music! It took many, many months before I even spoke to another kid at school, let alone "participated in class." I was terrified! And to think--and I can say this now--I was one of the lucky few to escape the hold of religion through pure chance!! I was in a worldly, social environment long before the brain washing had time to set. No rinse and repeat for me! I can only imagine what a full-fledged "adult" would feel after spending eighteen years in such an environment! No wonder so many of them become pastors and housewives!! "Escape! Escape! The world is coming! The world is coming!"
The disservice to the children of this nation is astronomical, both in the church and without... The world isn't exactly a gold-standard bearer when it comes to their kids either.
But at least children from the world can deal with the world--not always well, and not always with the right mind-set or decision-making skills... But better prepared than the cult-kids of Christ...
Children--a curse, a blessing, an inconvenience, and a god...
KRULWICH: And then when Dowi looked at the picture--
Mr. RABINOWITZ: He just threw back his head and laughed. And this time it wasn't, you know, a laugh of thinking you're an idiot. This time it was a laugh of--I felt it was a laugh of pride. There was pride there and true happiness that I was getting to do it even if he couldn't.
KRULWICH: That was three years ago. Today, Alan Rabinowitz has a young daughter, as well as a son. But Dowi, he understands, has lost his mother and lost a sister, and is now almost the very last Tehrone in the valley.
Bless the children indeed...
Friday, March 16, 2007
Anyone Feel Like Being a Donor?
I need a uterus...
Just one...
Nothing fancy, special, not satin-lined or with chrome detailing...
It's just too freaking expensive...
I may never be a father...
I put myself through this at least once a month. I search the web, find surrogacy sites, look at prices, options, egg donors, uterus donors (and "donors" is the key word; when was the last time you "donated" something for a fee?)
It's a lot to ask of a woman, granted. I don't begrudge the fees in that way, I suppose... The medical, psychological, emotional implications of going through 9 months of pregnancy to give your child to another couple... I get that. But when was the last time money made an emotional decision better? It seems to be all about the money... And I think, would I actually want someone so hung up on the cash to even have my child?
I have had wombs offered. But there's always a catch, some clause, something I just can't seem to live with--one of the most extreme was that we would have to raise the kids vegan... I live on hot dogs, hamburgers, pizza, and chicken--are you kidding me? Two others who offered didn't even have viable ovaries--i.e., their tubes were tied, and if I would be willing to pay for the untying of their tubes... And how is this a money saver?
I'm not a rich person--I'm your average, hard-working American, making a decent, though hardly abundant wage. It pays the bills. It doesn't leave much for much entertainment or luxury, but enough to have fun...
And we certainly have the love, the support system, and the desire...
I just need a uterus....
I suppose I could take my chances with the lottery... Or go vegan... Or hope that someone would find it in the generousness of their heart to just... do it...
Sigh. Something that 51% of the world has...
Let's assume 30% of them are in working order, most likely--most certainly an underestimation... And not one of them will have a child for under $20,000? Not including medical, legal, psychological, and "agency" expenses? Seriously?
It's cheap in India, but they mostly only do business with straight couples of Indian descent... Russia is cheap, too, but also very iffy in success rates... The U.S. does more of these than anywhere else--but, unlike every other technology that comes down the pike, this one isn't getting any cheaper... Why is that, anyway?
Anyone have $30,000 to $40,000 just laying around, not have much use for, and would like to make one man's happiness and dreams come true? Eternal gratitude a given...
I'm asking for a huge sacrifice from someone, that I know... I get that... Perhaps if I had a uterus, I would view this whole thing differently, who am I to know? I just want a child...
I've always wanted a child, as long as I can remember, fatherhood was always a huge dream of mine, of raising a little me...
I know, I know, adoption and foster parenting are there... Also very expensive, in case you were wondering. Plus, as a certain someone works with troubled youth all day long, the last thing they want to deal with is more troubled youth when they come home... Long story, short pier, but that's the gist. And I understand that as well...
But it's all so very frustrating, you know?...
I'm off to find a happy thought...
If, in some whacked-out, Twlight Zone-ish place n the world, you are reading this and happen to have $30,000 to $40,000 laying around, send me an e-mail... If you happen to have a uterus you aren't using, and wouldn't mind making a wonderful donation to a great couple in Eastern PA, also drop me an email...
But I won't hold my breath...
Perhaps I'll go hold a PowerBall ticket...
Just one...
Nothing fancy, special, not satin-lined or with chrome detailing...
It's just too freaking expensive...
I may never be a father...
I put myself through this at least once a month. I search the web, find surrogacy sites, look at prices, options, egg donors, uterus donors (and "donors" is the key word; when was the last time you "donated" something for a fee?)
It's a lot to ask of a woman, granted. I don't begrudge the fees in that way, I suppose... The medical, psychological, emotional implications of going through 9 months of pregnancy to give your child to another couple... I get that. But when was the last time money made an emotional decision better? It seems to be all about the money... And I think, would I actually want someone so hung up on the cash to even have my child?
I have had wombs offered. But there's always a catch, some clause, something I just can't seem to live with--one of the most extreme was that we would have to raise the kids vegan... I live on hot dogs, hamburgers, pizza, and chicken--are you kidding me? Two others who offered didn't even have viable ovaries--i.e., their tubes were tied, and if I would be willing to pay for the untying of their tubes... And how is this a money saver?
I'm not a rich person--I'm your average, hard-working American, making a decent, though hardly abundant wage. It pays the bills. It doesn't leave much for much entertainment or luxury, but enough to have fun...
And we certainly have the love, the support system, and the desire...
I just need a uterus....
I suppose I could take my chances with the lottery... Or go vegan... Or hope that someone would find it in the generousness of their heart to just... do it...
Sigh. Something that 51% of the world has...
Let's assume 30% of them are in working order, most likely--most certainly an underestimation... And not one of them will have a child for under $20,000? Not including medical, legal, psychological, and "agency" expenses? Seriously?
It's cheap in India, but they mostly only do business with straight couples of Indian descent... Russia is cheap, too, but also very iffy in success rates... The U.S. does more of these than anywhere else--but, unlike every other technology that comes down the pike, this one isn't getting any cheaper... Why is that, anyway?
Anyone have $30,000 to $40,000 just laying around, not have much use for, and would like to make one man's happiness and dreams come true? Eternal gratitude a given...
I'm asking for a huge sacrifice from someone, that I know... I get that... Perhaps if I had a uterus, I would view this whole thing differently, who am I to know? I just want a child...
I've always wanted a child, as long as I can remember, fatherhood was always a huge dream of mine, of raising a little me...
I know, I know, adoption and foster parenting are there... Also very expensive, in case you were wondering. Plus, as a certain someone works with troubled youth all day long, the last thing they want to deal with is more troubled youth when they come home... Long story, short pier, but that's the gist. And I understand that as well...
But it's all so very frustrating, you know?...
I'm off to find a happy thought...
If, in some whacked-out, Twlight Zone-ish place n the world, you are reading this and happen to have $30,000 to $40,000 laying around, send me an e-mail... If you happen to have a uterus you aren't using, and wouldn't mind making a wonderful donation to a great couple in Eastern PA, also drop me an email...
But I won't hold my breath...
Perhaps I'll go hold a PowerBall ticket...
Thursday, March 15, 2007
Fear-Based Nationalism, and the Spanish National Anthem...
Sigh... I have opinionated friends whom I love dearly... It's actually amazing we all get along as well as we do with so many differences! One is a fundie, one is a recovering Catholic, one is a part-time Catholic, some are wishy-washy Christians, others are--undecided, and then there's me and another atheist... Some are straight, some are gay, some are bi, but somehow it all works out in the laundry... :D
But every now and then one of the darlings sends me these forwards that I just need to... well, short of barfing, I suppose I'll just pick apart as I'm prone to over-analyzing as it is! So here it is: the e-mail that got Jason's ire... :D Of course you realize you'll end up reading it in sections, as I have to add the witty over-narration you've all come to find so cheekily adorable...
Oops! Seeing as how I can't copy and paste the e-mail, I had to find one that was almost the same, so we'll pick this apart instead, okay?
But it was all in Spanish... go figure. Of course there is never a true translation from one language to another, so you take the closest-meaning word--and how is this desecrating to the national anthem? I don't get it... Do people really expect a word-for-word, meaning-for-meaning translation? I thought you didn't want it sung in Spanish to begin with! Why the worry about the semantics now?
Everybody knows the national anthem is in English, and I truly don’t think this gesture, this translating of the lyrics, is in any way meant to supplant the English version. I think it is a compliment, actually, that it is in Spanish too. Of course, the real kicker here is that so many are "outraged" about the translation of a song based, on all things, an old British drinking song. God bless America indeed... Oh, and pass the Scotch...
But the idiocy continues, believe it or not:
But back to the idiocy:
In fact, I say we go back to our original motto, one you might have huge issues with, as it speaks to the very core of your fear, dear author of the idiocy: E pluribus unum. Out of many, one.
And as soon as we start saying who can or can't be "one," what those "ones" have to say, what to speak, whom to pray to...
We'll no longer be Americans...
Our independence was founded on one very simple statement: That all men are created equal. Not just the ones who look like us, or speak like us, or worship like us, or even just the ones who live in this land. ALL MEN. But as long as you think you are somehow better than others because of where your mother just happened to spew you forth from her vagina, you will never truly understand what that statement means, or what it stands for...
But every now and then one of the darlings sends me these forwards that I just need to... well, short of barfing, I suppose I'll just pick apart as I'm prone to over-analyzing as it is! So here it is: the e-mail that got Jason's ire... :D Of course you realize you'll end up reading it in sections, as I have to add the witty over-narration you've all come to find so cheekily adorable...
Oops! Seeing as how I can't copy and paste the e-mail, I had to find one that was almost the same, so we'll pick this apart instead, okay?
I didn't realize it was a law you had to sing it in English! Are we not the melting pot? Why does it matter if it's sung in other languages? Wait--did the National Anthem get canonized, and now part of some sacred spiritual revolution? Who cares if they want to sing it in Spanish--they're singing our national anthem, aren't they?
I am sorry but after hearing they want to sing the National Anthem in Spanish - enough is enough.
You're right--what are the odds that no one else in the entire United States (about 300 million people) has ever sung our national anthem in another language? Perish the thought!
No where did they sing it in Italian, Polish, Irish (Celtic), German or any other language because of immigration.
Do you sing every single song word-for-word the way it was written? Artistic licence and creative expression are suddenly staring down the barrel of a gun! "Sing it our way, or the highway!" I wonder why so many people care about who is singing what and in what language? How does this affect the average working Joe?
It was written by Francis Scott Key and should be sung word for word the way it was written.
So at this point I attempted to find a translation for the national anthem into Spanish...
The news broadcasts even gave the translation -- not even close.
But it was all in Spanish... go figure. Of course there is never a true translation from one language to another, so you take the closest-meaning word--and how is this desecrating to the national anthem? I don't get it... Do people really expect a word-for-word, meaning-for-meaning translation? I thought you didn't want it sung in Spanish to begin with! Why the worry about the semantics now?
The hell I will! It's my country too! And guess what? It's also the home of a lot of Spanish speakers! This is another case of "majority" going to people's heads. "There are more of us than there are of you, so do it our way!" I'll speak up, but not in agreement with this--is it xenophobia? I think it is funny how Americans (I am a citizen by the way) think this is "our" land. Let's see... how did we get it again? Oh, that's right! We killed the natives, forced them to speak English and convert to Christianity, and then we fenced them off to die... Then we created laws saying it is "ours," and that we can pick and choose who can and can not enter "our" land like the narcissists that we are. Our forefathers stole this land. And like many thieves, we will do anything to keep what we rightfully stole, won't we?
Sorry if this offends anyone but this is MY COUNTRY - IF IT IS YOUR COUNTRY SPEAK UP ---- please pass this along~
Everybody knows the national anthem is in English, and I truly don’t think this gesture, this translating of the lyrics, is in any way meant to supplant the English version. I think it is a compliment, actually, that it is in Spanish too. Of course, the real kicker here is that so many are "outraged" about the translation of a song based, on all things, an old British drinking song. God bless America indeed... Oh, and pass the Scotch...
"Be like the French--force a language on the people!" Hehehe, and I know how much the right loves to hate the French... But that's for another day. Most of them do learn the language. (See here for just one recent study...) By the third generation here in the U.S., most U.S. citizens can't speak the language of their grandparents! But, I suppose since that doesn't sound as scary, we ignore that...
I am not against immigration -- just come through like everyone else. Get a sponsor; have a place to lay your head; have a job; pay your taxes, live by the rules AND LEARN THE LANGUAGE as all other immigrants have in the past -- and GOD BLESS AMERICA!
It isn't about offending someone--at least, not for the most part. It's about not being a fear-driven, flag-waving, patriotic nutball so concerned with white-bread America I can't handle a hint of diversity, let alone our anthem sung in another language! Who cares? Are we that insecure with our "national identity"? Do we have an "American culture"? Yes--but only as long as we remain the free, open country we always have been--I mean, what's next? A ban on Chi-Chi's? Taco Bell? Much like the fad of "freedom fries" (one of the stupidest things to ever get started), are we going to call them "liberty-challadas"? "Freedom Fajitas"? Ohh, that one might sound "too Spanish." Please...
Think about this: If you don't want to forward this for fear of offending someone-----YOU'RE PART OF THE PROBLEM !!!!
I'm sorry--are they trying to pass a law declaring "Spanish" as the national language? This type of fear-based "freedom losing" is exactly the type of thing that will make this not a "country of choice," not some immigrants, whether illegal or not, sing our national anthem in Spanish...
Will we still be the Country of choice and still be America if we continue to make the changes forced on us by the people from other countries that came to live in America because it is the Country of Choice??????
Why? Whoever started this insane diatribe of fear certainly didn't!
Think about it!
And what rights of yours have exactly been infringed upon? Come on, I'm waiting--lemme see the list...
All we have to say is, when will they do something about MY RIGHTS?
Hell, be offended! I'm still unsure why you feel so offended... What harm has someone singing the national anthem in Spanish caused you again? What "rights" have you had to give up?
We've gone so far the other way, bent over backwards to not offend anyone, that I am now being offended. But it seems that no one has a problem with that.
This should be rich... Here's the article that "says it all":
This says it all! This is an editorial written by an American citizen, published in a Tampa newspaper. He did quite a job; didn't he? Read on, please!
Yeah, I'm sorry for being a bad patriot by wanting to make sure we didn't round up all the Muslim's, much like we did the Japanese immigrants during WWII... I'm sorry that I wanted everyone treated with dignity and respect, and didn't want people shipped off to camps to be treated like dirt. I'm sorry I wanted to uphold the "innocent until proven guilty" clause of our Constitution--how unAmerican of me! I apologize that your fear outweighs your common sense, and that you're willing to trade your freedoms for security--really, what could I, an unabashed liberal, be thinking?!
IMMIGRANTS, NOT AMERICANS, MUST ADAPT. I am tired of this nation worrying about whether we are offending some individual or their culture. Since the terrorist attacks on Sept. 11, we have experienced a surge in patriotism by the majority of Americans. However...... the dust from the attacks had barely settled when the "politically correct! " crowd began complaining about the possibility that our patriotism was offending others.
But the idiocy continues, believe it or not:
Uhh, it has? It what ways? Please be specific... Can anyone point to data, statistics, or even practical examples as to how "our identity" has been "diluted" and our "sovereignty" and "national identity" have been placed at risk? I'm extremely curious!
I am not against immigration, nor do I hold a grudge against anyone who is seeking a better life by coming to America. Our population is almost entirely made up of descendants of immigrants. However, there are a few things that those who have recently come to our country, and apparently some born here, need to understand. This idea of America being a multi cultural community has served only to dilute our sovereignty and our national identity.
Freedom for everyone, I'll remind you--not just for the "English speakers." Our culture is an amalgamation! And it will continue to be unless we start passing laws to "protect our identity," or laws meant to "protect our culture." What kind of crap is that?
As Americans.....we have our own culture, our own society, our own language and our own lifestyle. This culture has been developed over centuries of struggles, trials, and victories by millions of men and women who have sought freedom.
As pointed out earlier, they do. I'm sorry they don't pick it up overnight--most human beings aren't built that way...
We speak ENGLISH, not Spanish, Portuguese, Arabic, Chinese, Japanese, Russian, or any other language. Therefore, if you wish to become part of our society, learn the language!
Huh? Where the fuck did that come from? Talk about your segues!
"In God We Trust" is our national motto. This is not some Christian, right wing, political slogan.
More revisionist history from the so-called soldiers of Christ... Want to know about "In God we trust"? It is right-wing propaganda! Here is a brief, factual history:
We adopted this motto because Christian men and women.......on Christian principles............. founded this nation..... and this is clearly documented.
You can read a more thorough history of this right-wing propaganda tool here at Wikipedia.
The motto In God We Trust was placed on United States coins largely because of the increased religious sentiment existing during the American Civil War. Secretary of the Treasury Salmon P. Chase received many appeals from devout Christians throughout the country, urging that the United States recognize God on United States coins. From Treasury Department records, it appears that the first such appeal came in a letter dated November 13, 1861. It was written to Secretary Chase by Rev. M. R. Watkinson, Minister of the Gospel from Ridleyville, Pennsylvania, and read:Dear Sir: You are about to submit your annual report to the Congress respecting the affairs of the national finances.As a result, Secretary Chase instructed James Pollock, Director of the Mint at Philadelphia, to prepare a motto, in a letter dated November 20, 1861:
One fact touching our currency has hitherto been seriously overlooked. I mean the recognition of the Almighty God in some form on our coins.
You are probably a Christian. What if our Republic were not shattered beyond reconstruction? Would not the antiquaries of succeeding centuries rightly reason from our past that we were a heathen nation? What I propose is that instead of the goddess of liberty we shall have next inside the 13 stars a ring inscribed with the words PERPETUAL UNION; within the ring the allseeing eye, crowned with a halo; beneath this eye the American flag, bearing in its field stars equal to the number of the States united; in the folds of the bars the words GOD, LIBERTY, LAW.
This would make a beautiful coin, to which no possible citizen could object. This would relieve us from the ignominy of heathenism. This would place us openly under the Divine protection we have personally claimed. From my heart I have felt our national shame in disowning God as not the least of our present national disasters.
To you first I address a subject that must be agitated.Dear Sir: No nation can be strong except in the strength of God, or safe except in His defense. The trust of our people in God should be declared on our national coins.It was found that the Act of Congress dated January 18, 1837, prescribed the mottoes and devices that should be placed upon the coins of the United States. This meant that the mint could make no changes without the enactment of additional legislation by Congress.
You will cause a device to be prepared without unnecessary delay with a motto expressing in the fewest and tersest words possible this national recognition.
But back to the idiocy:
Many faiths are a part of our culture... But because you buy into the lies of the right, you think you should get some special kind of props for your religion... I suggest you read this.
It is certainly appropriate to display it on the walls of our schools. If God offends you, then I suggest you consider another part of the world as your new home.........because God is part of our culture.
Oh, how very, very American of you, dear author of the idiocy! Who is whiny and griping? Oh, wait, that's you. Well, but the flag... and the motto... Oh, that's right... You're trying to protect our "national identity" by invoking false history and lies... Also very American! At least, if we take the word of most of the morons in charge these days. This kind of fear-driven crap just pisses me off!
If Stars and Stripes offend you, or you don't like Uncle Sam, then you should seriously consider a move to another part of this planet We are happy with our culture and have no desire to change, and we really don't care how you did things where you came from. This is OUR COUNTRY, our land, and our lifestyle. Our First Amendment gives every citizen the right to express his opinion and we will allow you every opportunity to do so! But once you are done complaining....... whining...... and griping.......about our flag......our pledge......our national motto.......or our way of life...I highly encourage you to take advantage of one other Great American Freedom....
THE RIGHT TO LEAVE.
In fact, I say we go back to our original motto, one you might have huge issues with, as it speaks to the very core of your fear, dear author of the idiocy: E pluribus unum. Out of many, one.
And as soon as we start saying who can or can't be "one," what those "ones" have to say, what to speak, whom to pray to...
We'll no longer be Americans...
Our independence was founded on one very simple statement: That all men are created equal. Not just the ones who look like us, or speak like us, or worship like us, or even just the ones who live in this land. ALL MEN. But as long as you think you are somehow better than others because of where your mother just happened to spew you forth from her vagina, you will never truly understand what that statement means, or what it stands for...
Wednesday, March 14, 2007
All in the Family; and
Who Is God's God?
I know some of you are just down-right embarrassed, and would rather think you came from the dirty sneeze of sky god than be related to apes, chimps, and monkeys, but those are your own self-worth issues to get over...
But it seems our cousins, the great apes, have been observed using tools to hunt prey!
Of course, all you people who would rather be dirt than a primate will look at this and say, "So?" Which is fine, I suppose. Most of us think you have dirt for brains, so it's no skin off our backs that you refuse to show up for the family reunions. It just means more bush babies for the rest of us...
I congratulate our fellow primates and henceforth wish to declare this a national holiday--National Bush-Baby Killing Day! Okay, maybe that's going too far. But this is a case of seeing logic and reason in such a way that few other creatures have done before... And shows just one more clue into the early history of our common ancestor.
As another passing thought on how we "must have been designed": Who the hell made sky god? Isn't he always claimed to be ten times, a hundred times, a thousand times more complex, more infinite, more godlike than we? So if we had to have been designed, than what other argument is there than that sky god must have been created by an intelligent designer? (Cue inner dialogue: Don't laugh out loud--DON'T LAUGH OUT LOUD!) It's a lot like that hole the Catholics have dug themselves into: Jesus was born without sin. But sin is genetic. It's passed on through the mother (I actually learned this in Bible college--without, of course, science to back up such ridiculousness--even the above link asserts this is the case!), and since Jesus had an earthly mother, how did he get to be "without sin"? Why, Mary must have been born sinless as well! But then, wait--how was she born sinless? Well, I suppose it follows to reason that her mother must have been sinless as well! And so on and so forth until we're back to the fairy tale first-couple who would have had to be sinless for Jesus to even make such a claim... But then if God just made Mary sinless, why did Mary need to be sinless for Jesus to be born sinless? How does that make sense? And if Mary was sinless, why couldn't we nail her to a cross instead of sky god's kid? Yeah, you people need to think this shit out more before you start teaching it to the masses...
So if we are so "complex," and "intricate," and "well designed" (Ha!! My appendix must not have gotten that memo!), who made the creator that created us, eh? (Knowing that many beliefs in sky god do not follow logic or reason, I expect nothing but the most arbitrary answers to these questions...)
But it seems our cousins, the great apes, have been observed using tools to hunt prey!
Granted, it's not a Craftsman with a lifetime warranty--hell, it's not even a bowie knife (Enter Crocodile Dundee: "Now this, this is a knife!")
No fewer than 22 times, researchers documented wild chimpanzees on an African savanna fashioning sticks into "spears" to hunt small primates called lesser bush babies.
In each case a chimpanzee modified a branch by breaking off one or two ends and, frequently, using its teeth to sharpen the stick. The ape then jabbed the spear into hollows in tree trunks where bush babies sleep.
Of course, all you people who would rather be dirt than a primate will look at this and say, "So?" Which is fine, I suppose. Most of us think you have dirt for brains, so it's no skin off our backs that you refuse to show up for the family reunions. It just means more bush babies for the rest of us...
I congratulate our fellow primates and henceforth wish to declare this a national holiday--National Bush-Baby Killing Day! Okay, maybe that's going too far. But this is a case of seeing logic and reason in such a way that few other creatures have done before... And shows just one more clue into the early history of our common ancestor.
Enter the shaking of the fundie's head: "How can he believe we came from monkey's and not dirt? I just don't get it..." And I'd just like to restate for the record: We do not come from monkeys. We share a common ancestor! That said, you could believe we came from the pinball machine of an alien race for all I care--just find some, some type of scientific evidence to back it up, okay?
"Looking at our closest living relatives in a habitat that is fairly similar to what we see characterizing early hominids six million years ago" can help researchers understand early human ancestors' behavior and ecology, she said.
USC's Stanford likens chimpanzees to a window to a past poorly preserved in the archaeological record.
Hunting "is something that the chimps do that almost certainly early, early hominids did too. They were just using a material—wood—that does not leave any archaeological trace," he said.
As another passing thought on how we "must have been designed": Who the hell made sky god? Isn't he always claimed to be ten times, a hundred times, a thousand times more complex, more infinite, more godlike than we? So if we had to have been designed, than what other argument is there than that sky god must have been created by an intelligent designer? (Cue inner dialogue: Don't laugh out loud--DON'T LAUGH OUT LOUD!) It's a lot like that hole the Catholics have dug themselves into: Jesus was born without sin. But sin is genetic. It's passed on through the mother (I actually learned this in Bible college--without, of course, science to back up such ridiculousness--even the above link asserts this is the case!), and since Jesus had an earthly mother, how did he get to be "without sin"? Why, Mary must have been born sinless as well! But then, wait--how was she born sinless? Well, I suppose it follows to reason that her mother must have been sinless as well! And so on and so forth until we're back to the fairy tale first-couple who would have had to be sinless for Jesus to even make such a claim... But then if God just made Mary sinless, why did Mary need to be sinless for Jesus to be born sinless? How does that make sense? And if Mary was sinless, why couldn't we nail her to a cross instead of sky god's kid? Yeah, you people need to think this shit out more before you start teaching it to the masses...
So if we are so "complex," and "intricate," and "well designed" (Ha!! My appendix must not have gotten that memo!), who made the creator that created us, eh? (Knowing that many beliefs in sky god do not follow logic or reason, I expect nothing but the most arbitrary answers to these questions...)
Like Watercolors in the Rain...
Dreams continue to be pounded on... The colors of our lives become washed out, faded, swirling down the drain into oblivion... All that's left is a canvas that hints at what used to be a colorful world, a bright world, a happy world, a seemingly perfect world...
We certainly don't live in a perfect world. This may be life, but Walgreen's it's not. I think it's barely a truck stop, let alone a convenience store of filled with pharmaceuticals for every perceived ailment we bestow some nifty initials on...
The gigantic splash ripples out, and while the people at the center of the tsunami have a hard time seeing beyond that great wall of water, the rest of us try to stay afloat on our rafts, paddling our hardest towards the ones we love at the center, hoping we can help in some way, whether it be to pull them out of the water, prevent them from drowning, or at the very least be a life vest they can cling to at the darkest of times, even if we can't get them out onto dry land on our own...
My heart bleeds for those I love, knowing there's nothing I can do but hope for the best while preparing for the worst...
I try to see the beauty, try to see the good that could yet happen...
I try to see a new canvas, one created from two, and hope that beauty and harmony can be restored in these separate pieces, even though it may be nothing like the original they were inspired by...
While there may be no roses, there could still be life... And at least without roses, there aren't thorns either...
You have my love, and any help I can offer...
But I can't save you...
Only you can save yourselves...
We certainly don't live in a perfect world. This may be life, but Walgreen's it's not. I think it's barely a truck stop, let alone a convenience store of filled with pharmaceuticals for every perceived ailment we bestow some nifty initials on...
The gigantic splash ripples out, and while the people at the center of the tsunami have a hard time seeing beyond that great wall of water, the rest of us try to stay afloat on our rafts, paddling our hardest towards the ones we love at the center, hoping we can help in some way, whether it be to pull them out of the water, prevent them from drowning, or at the very least be a life vest they can cling to at the darkest of times, even if we can't get them out onto dry land on our own...
My heart bleeds for those I love, knowing there's nothing I can do but hope for the best while preparing for the worst...
I try to see the beauty, try to see the good that could yet happen...
I try to see a new canvas, one created from two, and hope that beauty and harmony can be restored in these separate pieces, even though it may be nothing like the original they were inspired by...
While there may be no roses, there could still be life... And at least without roses, there aren't thorns either...
You have my love, and any help I can offer...
But I can't save you...
Only you can save yourselves...
Tuesday, March 13, 2007
General Pace Should Keep Up...
It's sad when homosexuals are good enough to die for the country that treats them as second-class citizens, but only as long as they hide what kind of an American they are...
Bunch of morons.
Of course, most of today's soldiers could care less who you're sleeping with as long as you can do your job! A poll by Zogby showed that:
Of course, most of our allies in any war we get ourselves into has openly serving gay personnel--which hasn't turned their armies one whit less effective! In fact, knowing that soldiers can focus on doing their jobs and not worrying about witch hunts and homophobic generals means more cohesive units, not less...
Along with the fact that we kicked out over 10,000 soldiers--more than 50 individuals who were fluent in translating Arabic--since 2005, all the while listening to the Army complain about how thin they are stretched--one would think another 10,000 soldiers would be a pretty handy thing to have, wouldn't you?
But, of course, since Pace feels their icky and immoral, he'd rather have less soldiers than a more effective army... And that's really the message being sent here today.
And how, exactly, is adultery the same as two adults who aren't married having sex with one another? Homophobe say what? "Adultery" is when one of two individuals who have made a pledge of fidelity to one another breaks that vow... Homosexual acts are... Hmm, between two consenting adults who can't get married... Yeah, that's the same!
Marine Gen. Peter Pace likened homosexuality to adultery, which he said was also immoral, the newspaper reported on its Web site. "I do not believe the United States is well served by a policy that says it is OK to be immoral in any way," Pace told the newspaper in a wide-ranging interview.
Way to think for yourself there, General! Glad to see our top brass is able to think beyond their childhood! Makes me feel so much better about the troop surge, and sending our soldiers to die. Thank god we kept the immoral gays out, otherwise it could be them dying for our country! (Which is why I'm surprised they're still kicking out the gays--you'd think the right-wing would love the fact that we were killing the gays and the evil Muslims at the same time!! Two birds--one stone!)
Pace, a native of Brooklyn, N.Y., and a 1967 graduate of the U.S. Naval Academy, said he based his views on his upbringing.
"You can die for us as long as you don't enjoy your life," is pretty much what he supports. As long as we hide who we love, as long as no one feels "icky," or has their "manliness" threatened in any way...
He said he supports the Pentagon's 'don't ask, don't tell policy' in which gay men and women are allowed in the military as long as they keep their sexual orientation private. The policy, signed into law by President Clinton in 1994, prohibits commanders from asking about a person's sexual orientation.
Bunch of morons.
Of course, most of today's soldiers could care less who you're sleeping with as long as you can do your job! A poll by Zogby showed that:
- Nearly three in four troops (73%) say they are personally comfortable in the presence of gays and lesbians.
- Of the 20% who said they are uncomfortable around gays and lesbians, only 5% are "very" uncomfortable, while 15% are "somewhat" uncomfortable.
- Only two percent of troops said knowing that gays are not allowed to serve openly was an important reason in their decision to join the military.
- Of those who know a gay or lesbian peer, 27% said it has a negative impact on the morale of their unit.
- Nearly three out of four troops said in the Zogby poll that they usually or almost always take showers privately--only 8% say they usually or almost always take showers in group stalls.
- In combat units, 21% said they know for certain that someone in their unit is gay or lesbian.
- In combat support units (25%) and combat service support units (22%) know and work alongside gays and lesbians.
- One in five troops (20%) in other units said they know for certain someone is gay or lesbian in their unit.
- Nearly half (45%) say there are people in their unit they believe to be gay or lesbian, but they don't know for sure.
- Slightly more than half (52%) say they have received training on the prevention of anti-gay harassment in the past three years;
- However, 40% say they have not received this type of training, which is mandated by Defense Department policy.
Of course, most of our allies in any war we get ourselves into has openly serving gay personnel--which hasn't turned their armies one whit less effective! In fact, knowing that soldiers can focus on doing their jobs and not worrying about witch hunts and homophobic generals means more cohesive units, not less...
Along with the fact that we kicked out over 10,000 soldiers--more than 50 individuals who were fluent in translating Arabic--since 2005, all the while listening to the Army complain about how thin they are stretched--one would think another 10,000 soldiers would be a pretty handy thing to have, wouldn't you?
But, of course, since Pace feels their icky and immoral, he'd rather have less soldiers than a more effective army... And that's really the message being sent here today.
Monday, March 12, 2007
On Being Mother Nature's Pimp...
The smash of people against me was suffocating. The large congregation of flower enthusiasts moved in a synchronized dance I couldn't seem to get down, the steps too intricate, the music at too low a decibel. Guards and rent-a-cops shout at the tide of people, directing them to lines and ticket counters. Others are soaring high above on the magic moving stairs, and no one seems to grasp the concept that if you actually walk up the moving stairs, you reach the top faster.
A whiff of bad breath is followed by an overwhelming honey-suckle fragrance as people all charge in opposite directions with no regard for the obstacles in their way, be it people or thing.
An exchange of paper green money for a bright red stub seems unfair, but I am shoved forth to the magic stairs, and soon, between the Indian couple with their overwhelmingly bright attire and the woman dragging three screaming children on what they seem to think is a trip to a demonic underworld, we are climbing above the chaos of the ground floor to seek the chaos of the upper floor.
Then it becomes visible--a giant archway of rock adorned with plants, flowers, shrubs, and fungus which means only one thing--we're at the Philadelphia Flower Show.
We moved from display to display, wheezing at the putrid stench of hundreds of Philadelphians crammed into what should have been an amazingly large space... A pond here, a fountain there, gasps and oohs at orchids (the most over-rated flower of the century), glances and disregard for the impatiens sitting unpretentiously to the left of the Celtic statues. Moments of clarity come and go across the myriads of faces as they each find that special plant, flower, or display that has completed an image in their mind of what a little man-handling and fertilizer could never provide...
A dinner banquet set for twelve beneath a stone out-cropping reminiscent of stone henge, without the bronze hue, sets the stage for the wedding reception only seen in my dreams. Bouquets of roses cascade from vases of crystal, babies breath peeking through between the blossoms, knowing its second-class status brings it to all the best parties. Lillies compete with daffodils for the lime-light on the backs of chairs...
A Koi pond, complete with Koi, splash among the Lilly pads as Asian grasses dip their blades gently into the ripples of water, hoping it isn't too cold. Hostas cover the bases of trees afraid of revealing their roots. Azaleas cower in the shadows of the larger cousins, the rhododendrons, harboring secret desires of one day over-arching them, and seeing how they like being so short. Fountains jet water into the air, and willows and cherry's grasp at the life-giving droplets to wear them as a woman adorns crystal earrings and pearl necklaces, light reflecting, catching gleams in the eyes of the onlookers. Tulips seductively pucker up while the creeping phlox beguiles with the simplicity of angelic white carpets...
Then we are in the shops, cubicles and rectangles harshly coinciding with the natural, soft, gentle curves of mother nature dominating these thousands of square feet behind us. Copper wind chimes, silver vases, terra cotta pots and ritzy tomato cages (for those bored with green wire) all jump out into the aisles. Glass windows, wooden chairs, plastic swings, metal bird feeders--the man-made objects scream and rail against their mannishness, their anti-mother nature sculpted edges, crying for the attention that comes so natural to the poppies, the wisteria, the morning glory.
Shopkeepers shout the prices of their wares, much like the baker and blacksmith of colonial times. "Roses, 25 for $9.99!," "Wilow branches, buy 1 get 1!" People swarm here and there, looking for the objects that will make their yards, their gardens look like the displays they have been molesting enviously with their eyes all morning and afternoon. Planters, hoses, mulches, soils, flowers, seeds, bulbs--the rape of mother nature has a price, and she will be yours to command with enough Washington's and Jackson's.
A glimmer of light breaks through the windows on the far side, and in the corner, I spy a small, seemingly much-maligned stand. A small woman sits perched on her stool, surrounded by a sea of green and brown. She smiles and waves--Who, me?, and she smiles and nods. The sea of people seems to move gently out of my way as I move toward the corner. A few other souls seem to be captivated by the green, the natural sunlight from the warehouse window bringing forth from the leaves in the booth what man-made light had been trying to replicate for the past several hours...
"Bamboo," she says with a smile. I nod, not wanting to be mistaken for a simpleton in this colony of botanical knowledge. The slender, sturdy bark somehow softens the edges of the square shop. White buckets tilt out slightly, seeming to say, "See what I have? Go ahead, pick them up, caress the leaves..." I find myself marvelling at the simplicity of the bamboo against the orgasm of colors that has been assaulting my eyes for hours on end. The sequential ridges, the perpendicular stalks...
So I bought four of the little guys.
I, too, pimp mother nature, as is my nature as a human. But somehow, taming the wild into design, into shapes, into categories, allows me to feel in control. By taking the beauty I find in the wildest parts of the world, and placing them just so in some aspect of my decor or my landscaping, helps make it all seem a little more--just a little more, mind you--bearable. Ownable. Manageable.
Beautiful.
We like the wild places. But we love taming the wild places even more. It is our curse and our gift, our blessing and our punishment. We are of mother nature, but we want to be so much more.
And by placing four small, seemingly fragile bamboo shoots in a faux stone pot complete with river pebbles, I assert my humanness onto the very thing that made me... Hoping for balance, striving for equilibrium, all the while asserting my control...
But I wouldn't trade gardening for the world...
(Oh, the irony of it all...)
A whiff of bad breath is followed by an overwhelming honey-suckle fragrance as people all charge in opposite directions with no regard for the obstacles in their way, be it people or thing.
An exchange of paper green money for a bright red stub seems unfair, but I am shoved forth to the magic stairs, and soon, between the Indian couple with their overwhelmingly bright attire and the woman dragging three screaming children on what they seem to think is a trip to a demonic underworld, we are climbing above the chaos of the ground floor to seek the chaos of the upper floor.
Then it becomes visible--a giant archway of rock adorned with plants, flowers, shrubs, and fungus which means only one thing--we're at the Philadelphia Flower Show.
We moved from display to display, wheezing at the putrid stench of hundreds of Philadelphians crammed into what should have been an amazingly large space... A pond here, a fountain there, gasps and oohs at orchids (the most over-rated flower of the century), glances and disregard for the impatiens sitting unpretentiously to the left of the Celtic statues. Moments of clarity come and go across the myriads of faces as they each find that special plant, flower, or display that has completed an image in their mind of what a little man-handling and fertilizer could never provide...
A dinner banquet set for twelve beneath a stone out-cropping reminiscent of stone henge, without the bronze hue, sets the stage for the wedding reception only seen in my dreams. Bouquets of roses cascade from vases of crystal, babies breath peeking through between the blossoms, knowing its second-class status brings it to all the best parties. Lillies compete with daffodils for the lime-light on the backs of chairs...
A Koi pond, complete with Koi, splash among the Lilly pads as Asian grasses dip their blades gently into the ripples of water, hoping it isn't too cold. Hostas cover the bases of trees afraid of revealing their roots. Azaleas cower in the shadows of the larger cousins, the rhododendrons, harboring secret desires of one day over-arching them, and seeing how they like being so short. Fountains jet water into the air, and willows and cherry's grasp at the life-giving droplets to wear them as a woman adorns crystal earrings and pearl necklaces, light reflecting, catching gleams in the eyes of the onlookers. Tulips seductively pucker up while the creeping phlox beguiles with the simplicity of angelic white carpets...
Then we are in the shops, cubicles and rectangles harshly coinciding with the natural, soft, gentle curves of mother nature dominating these thousands of square feet behind us. Copper wind chimes, silver vases, terra cotta pots and ritzy tomato cages (for those bored with green wire) all jump out into the aisles. Glass windows, wooden chairs, plastic swings, metal bird feeders--the man-made objects scream and rail against their mannishness, their anti-mother nature sculpted edges, crying for the attention that comes so natural to the poppies, the wisteria, the morning glory.
Shopkeepers shout the prices of their wares, much like the baker and blacksmith of colonial times. "Roses, 25 for $9.99!," "Wilow branches, buy 1 get 1!" People swarm here and there, looking for the objects that will make their yards, their gardens look like the displays they have been molesting enviously with their eyes all morning and afternoon. Planters, hoses, mulches, soils, flowers, seeds, bulbs--the rape of mother nature has a price, and she will be yours to command with enough Washington's and Jackson's.
A glimmer of light breaks through the windows on the far side, and in the corner, I spy a small, seemingly much-maligned stand. A small woman sits perched on her stool, surrounded by a sea of green and brown. She smiles and waves--Who, me?, and she smiles and nods. The sea of people seems to move gently out of my way as I move toward the corner. A few other souls seem to be captivated by the green, the natural sunlight from the warehouse window bringing forth from the leaves in the booth what man-made light had been trying to replicate for the past several hours...
"Bamboo," she says with a smile. I nod, not wanting to be mistaken for a simpleton in this colony of botanical knowledge. The slender, sturdy bark somehow softens the edges of the square shop. White buckets tilt out slightly, seeming to say, "See what I have? Go ahead, pick them up, caress the leaves..." I find myself marvelling at the simplicity of the bamboo against the orgasm of colors that has been assaulting my eyes for hours on end. The sequential ridges, the perpendicular stalks...
So I bought four of the little guys.
I, too, pimp mother nature, as is my nature as a human. But somehow, taming the wild into design, into shapes, into categories, allows me to feel in control. By taking the beauty I find in the wildest parts of the world, and placing them just so in some aspect of my decor or my landscaping, helps make it all seem a little more--just a little more, mind you--bearable. Ownable. Manageable.
Beautiful.
We like the wild places. But we love taming the wild places even more. It is our curse and our gift, our blessing and our punishment. We are of mother nature, but we want to be so much more.
And by placing four small, seemingly fragile bamboo shoots in a faux stone pot complete with river pebbles, I assert my humanness onto the very thing that made me... Hoping for balance, striving for equilibrium, all the while asserting my control...
But I wouldn't trade gardening for the world...
(Oh, the irony of it all...)
Saturday, March 10, 2007
Sometimes You Feel Like a Nut...
Knock, knock, knock...
Me: (opening the door...) Can I help you?
Man:Hi! We're from the Zion United Church of Christ, and we're going door to door to let people know about our Lent services going on all this month--
Me: We're you guys here, like, three months ago? For a "revival" service or something?
Man: Er... (look of confusion...) No, um, perhaps that was another one of our area Christian denominations? No, we're here to invite you to the Zion United Church of Christ. We're having Lent services every day this month, and--
Me: Are you sure?
Man: Um... Er... Yes, I'm sure. (looking around to see, I suppose, if anyone else is listening to this...) Er... Do you currently attend a weekly service?
Me: (incredulous guffaw) No, we don't.
Man: Well, I'd especially like to invite you then, to try our Zion United Church of Christ! We are a wonderful, loving community of believers who strive to teach the gospel of Christ and live--
Me: Yeah, thanks for stopping by. (Closing the door...)
Man: Sir-- (placing his hand to prevent my door from closing all the way) Do you really mean you have no desire to elarn about what God has provided for man here on earth?
Me: Get your hand off my door.
Man: Oh... (another look of confusion) Sorry, I--
Me: Good-bye.
Man: But, sir!-- (Door is now firmly closed--but this doesn't deter this soldier of god...) Sir! I'll just leave you some information so that you and your family--!
Me: (rapidly reopening door) No, you won't leave anything! The last time you people left something, all I did was burn it in the coal stove. I'm not going to burn more garbage for you people.
Man: But sir--
Me: You leave anything, I'll have the police called and have you arrested for littering.
Man: You seem very angry at God--
Me: Are you kidding me? I'm angry at you! You assume that I should give you the time of day to spout of your nonsense on my Saturday?
Man: Yuo're placing yourself and your family in mortal, eternal danger!
Me: My family is myself and my husband.
Man: Er...
Me: Put that in your pipe and smoke it. (Reclose the door)
Man: Um... Sir?! I would strongly...
Me: (Turn up the television to drown him out, but the phone rings... I answer it...) Hello?
Margorie: (next-door neighbor) Who is that?
Me: Another dude trying to save our souls...
Marjorie: Seriosuly? What is this, the PA bible belt?
Me: (laughing) Yeah, it would seem that way, wouldn't it?
Marjorie: I'll catch up with you about it later, I have to go turn out the lights to make it look like I'm not home. Bye!
Me: Bye!
Monday, March 5, 2007
A Curse of the Generations...
I'd like you all to say hi to my great, great, great, great, great, great, great grandfather, the Reverend Jacob Kline.
Born in August of 1805, he is just one of the many, many "men of the cloth" that for centuries... centuries mind you... have propagated the myth of sky god in my family...
I actually get it from both sides. There are pastors, reverends, fathers, probably a pedophile priest or two, lurking around my family tree. He's just the one furthest back I can go at the moment...
And as I was going through some of these ancient family photos and histories, I came across a stack of books from the late 50s and early 60s from "The Gospel Hour." Deciding I needed a break from carefully handling the pictures of bygone eras, I thought I'd peruse the ominously titled "Russia, Israel, and the End." (It should be noted that "The End" is in all capital letters.)
One of the funniest passages in this "tomb of doom" comes near the end, when once more fundies were railing about the inevitable coming of their sky god's kid:
I also wonder why he trembled at the thought of being able to repair brains damaged "in wrecks, etc." Much like fundies "tremble" at the thought of using stem cells to help in the healing of people today (stem cells specifically), they take this as just one more sign of the imminent return...
In this same book, Gloomy "Oliver Greene" Gus quotes a verse from Revelation (16:21: And there fell upon men a great hail out of heaven, every stone about the weight of a talent [from 100 to 300 pounds].) and then cites a newspaper article from the Greenville News in which a 50 pound chuck of ice fell to the earth. They go into great length about how it couldn't have come from a plane, or from space, because it was "soft water, such as rain or water out of a well."
Gloomy Gus took this to mean that it was a sign from God...
I can only roll my eyes...
I spent Sunday evening with the parents, as they knew the "Tomb of Jesus" show was going to be on Discovery, so me and Rich spent the evening...
Luckily, they have TiVo...
My father, much like his and my mother's ancestors, still believe in the literal seven-day creation. My father thinks that all these bones of Ardipithicus, Australopithecus anamensis, Australopithecus afarensis, Australopithecus africanus, Australopithecus robustus, Homo habilis, Homo erectus, Homo sapiens archaic, and Homo sapiens neandertalensis are all just "different kinds of people, like blacks, Asians, whites, what-have-you." In other words, they're just different kinds of people like you and me--not ancestors... Just all regular Joe Schmoe's whose bones just look a little funny due to microevolution (as apparently macro evolution is impossible to my father [even though, and this is important people, macro evolution is simply the cumulative effect of lots of micro evolution... think about it...])
He believes Noah actually built a wooden boat only slightly smaller than the Titanic, put two of every single creature on earth on it, and floated for 40 days and 40 nights, despite global evidence of no global flood, mounds of evidence that the story is older than the biblical time line ("You only heard them say what you wanted them to hear," my father claims, even though we were watching the exact same show), the physical impossibility of fitting 300,000,000 species on such a small boat ("Man can't rationalize the awesome power of God," says Daddy-O), and he still couldn't answer why most marsupials are found only in Australia... he changed the subject, but I tell myself maybe he didn't hear me as we were talking at the same time... He believes languages came about in the fabulous fable of Babel, where god "confused their language," not culturally through the years of living separately... ("That was during the age of law... This is during the age of grace, which is why we can now build tall buildings without these consequences," says Father Time)...
I shake my head in frustration...
My dad is a smart man! He has the brain, but he refuses to read about the answers, the facts, the knowledge science has provided. He still believes in the easily debunked early-1980s "Christian science" that says the earth used to be a greenhouse, and that it never had rained before Noah's time, and that's where all the water came from to flood the earth... Even the "Christian scientists" have made up new lies! Even they don't believe what they were saying back then!
I don't get it... The willful, purposeful denial of knowledge, facts, and working theories for a fairy tale...
I partially blame Jacob...
I mostly blame the people who continue to propagate these lies in the face of overwhelming evidence against the literal bible as fact...
My family continues to live under the curse.... Not a curse of "sin," but a curse of half-truths, lies, and outright naivete and ignorance...
No wonder Jesus wept... and then lied to all of you...
Born in August of 1805, he is just one of the many, many "men of the cloth" that for centuries... centuries mind you... have propagated the myth of sky god in my family...
I actually get it from both sides. There are pastors, reverends, fathers, probably a pedophile priest or two, lurking around my family tree. He's just the one furthest back I can go at the moment...
And as I was going through some of these ancient family photos and histories, I came across a stack of books from the late 50s and early 60s from "The Gospel Hour." Deciding I needed a break from carefully handling the pictures of bygone eras, I thought I'd peruse the ominously titled "Russia, Israel, and the End." (It should be noted that "The End" is in all capital letters.)
One of the funniest passages in this "tomb of doom" comes near the end, when once more fundies were railing about the inevitable coming of their sky god's kid:
LOL!!! Of course, someone who is prone to the propaganda of the sky god is also susceptible to the propaganda of what the "Russians" were doing...
...it has been shown on T.V. (so I am told, I did not see it, but a friend who is trustworthy, and who is a radio and T.V. technician told me) that chemists and scientists have already manufactured brain tissue, and declare within a matter of months they will be manufacturing brains to use in repairing human brains when damaged in wrecks, etc.
JUST HOW MUCH FURTHER DO YOU SUPPOSE GOD WILL LET MAN GO BEFORE HE STOPS HIM? I wonder? It makes me tremble when I read of the things that are being accomplished in the laboratories of America today. And God only knows what the Russians are doing, and what they have???
"KNOWLEDGE SHALL BE INCREASED..."
I also wonder why he trembled at the thought of being able to repair brains damaged "in wrecks, etc." Much like fundies "tremble" at the thought of using stem cells to help in the healing of people today (stem cells specifically), they take this as just one more sign of the imminent return...
In this same book, Gloomy "Oliver Greene" Gus quotes a verse from Revelation (16:21: And there fell upon men a great hail out of heaven, every stone about the weight of a talent [from 100 to 300 pounds].) and then cites a newspaper article from the Greenville News in which a 50 pound chuck of ice fell to the earth. They go into great length about how it couldn't have come from a plane, or from space, because it was "soft water, such as rain or water out of a well."
Gloomy Gus took this to mean that it was a sign from God...
I can only roll my eyes...
I spent Sunday evening with the parents, as they knew the "Tomb of Jesus" show was going to be on Discovery, so me and Rich spent the evening...
Luckily, they have TiVo...
My father, much like his and my mother's ancestors, still believe in the literal seven-day creation. My father thinks that all these bones of Ardipithicus, Australopithecus anamensis, Australopithecus afarensis, Australopithecus africanus, Australopithecus robustus, Homo habilis, Homo erectus, Homo sapiens archaic, and Homo sapiens neandertalensis are all just "different kinds of people, like blacks, Asians, whites, what-have-you." In other words, they're just different kinds of people like you and me--not ancestors... Just all regular Joe Schmoe's whose bones just look a little funny due to microevolution (as apparently macro evolution is impossible to my father [even though, and this is important people, macro evolution is simply the cumulative effect of lots of micro evolution... think about it...])
He believes Noah actually built a wooden boat only slightly smaller than the Titanic, put two of every single creature on earth on it, and floated for 40 days and 40 nights, despite global evidence of no global flood, mounds of evidence that the story is older than the biblical time line ("You only heard them say what you wanted them to hear," my father claims, even though we were watching the exact same show), the physical impossibility of fitting 300,000,000 species on such a small boat ("Man can't rationalize the awesome power of God," says Daddy-O), and he still couldn't answer why most marsupials are found only in Australia... he changed the subject, but I tell myself maybe he didn't hear me as we were talking at the same time... He believes languages came about in the fabulous fable of Babel, where god "confused their language," not culturally through the years of living separately... ("That was during the age of law... This is during the age of grace, which is why we can now build tall buildings without these consequences," says Father Time)...
I shake my head in frustration...
My dad is a smart man! He has the brain, but he refuses to read about the answers, the facts, the knowledge science has provided. He still believes in the easily debunked early-1980s "Christian science" that says the earth used to be a greenhouse, and that it never had rained before Noah's time, and that's where all the water came from to flood the earth... Even the "Christian scientists" have made up new lies! Even they don't believe what they were saying back then!
I don't get it... The willful, purposeful denial of knowledge, facts, and working theories for a fairy tale...
I partially blame Jacob...
I mostly blame the people who continue to propagate these lies in the face of overwhelming evidence against the literal bible as fact...
My family continues to live under the curse.... Not a curse of "sin," but a curse of half-truths, lies, and outright naivete and ignorance...
No wonder Jesus wept... and then lied to all of you...
Friday, March 2, 2007
Thursday, March 1, 2007
There Are No Roses in Antarctica...
What we think should be is almost always hampered by what is... The reality of situations overwhelm us, like small leeches that, instead of draining blood, drain our souls, our lives, and in turn inject us with diseases such as fury, anger, and depression...
What we desire, dream about, or wish for in our lives is almost never how things work out.
I wish I could make everything better for everyone. Solve all the issues, problems, things unsaid and things that shouldn't have been said...
If someone wishes to paint a room blue, but the other person who resides in that room hates blue--how can they compromise?
Someone needs to give up a dream...
Something has to die...
Reality sucks. Life is hard. There are no roses in Antarctica...
What we desire, dream about, or wish for in our lives is almost never how things work out.
I wish I could make everything better for everyone. Solve all the issues, problems, things unsaid and things that shouldn't have been said...
If someone wishes to paint a room blue, but the other person who resides in that room hates blue--how can they compromise?
Someone needs to give up a dream...
Something has to die...
Reality sucks. Life is hard. There are no roses in Antarctica...
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