Six Dogs, Two Cats, and a Partridge in a Palm Tree…

It’s cramped but lovely living, I tell you. Okay, “lovely” might be overstating it a bit—I cannot wait until my VA Loan preapproval comes forth. Not that “love” isn’t in the equation… Of that there is no doubt. However, it is a bit cramped living in a one-bedroom with all the wildlife and whatnot.

A word to the wise—do not, I repeat, do NOT—ever get an all-white apartment. If you do happen to find yourself staring at an all-white apartment, note the way the stove is also painted white—and not in appliance paint. And the toilet. The walls go without saying—they are, indeed, also painted. White. As are the tiles. Well, in truth, the tiles should be white. What they are in reality is an off-white due to the amount of sand and dirt the Florida environment decides the bottom of your feet, sandals, flip-flops and shoes should be dragging around to all points indoors. Not to mention the hair shed by two cats and six dogs…

SIX dogs! you’re thinking. Are you NUTS!? Well, yes. But not bad-nuts, unlike some stupid, idiotic, assholed, dick-faced couple who was using their dog for either dog-fighting or baiting (i.e., using her as bait to train other dogs for fighting). She found an escape and found herself in B.E.D.’s carport, where he found her bleeding, legs gashed open, blood pouring from her wounds, abandoned and lonely and crying…

Being normal human beings (unlike her previous owners), he brought her home and she has begun the healing process, both in terms of physical health, but emotionally learning to trust humans and other dogs again… She has also been dubbed Brunhilde, Visigoth Princess of legend, and who’s name also means “battle armor” or “warrior princess,” depending on which baby-names website you prefer… (It should be noted, I had no idea her name would mean such a thing—I simply thought it sounded like a nice, strong, German name, for her strength and grace in the face of such adversity!) Be that as it may, my mother now has one more grand dog to add to the growing list of the Noah’s Ark-like-life of pets her children own…

Speaking of children…

The B.E.D. and I have also started the long and winding process of foster-parenthood. Or to become adoptive dad’s, depending on how you look at it. Florida having some of the ass-backward laws that it does, we both can’t be the adoptive father’s, so we’ll just have to take turns once the classes have ended and the child-care advocates have started knocking on our door—a door, it should be noted, that will not lead into the interior of a one-bedroom, all-white apartment just outside of Wilton Manors…

Just one more month until the pre-approval comes in for the mortgage…

The classes themselves are a hoot! Between the role-playing, the other couples on the road to foster-parenthood, the teachers and social workers we’re getting to know… It’s definitely worth giving up at least five Saturdays in a row, if only for the making of new friends with common goals and wants in life. (It should be noted here, not that my old and other new friends are lacking in any way, shape or form, FYI…) Of course, there will be further classes to take, hopefully not within the confines of a stuffy, Baptist-church basement, but we’ll cross that bridge when we cross that bridge. Due to the types of children B.E.D. and I are wishing to help and adopt, there will be several other courses after this one, but I’m sure it’ll all be worth it in the end!

I’m finally facing fatherhood…

And I’m terribly excited. Partially because, unlike pets, they’ll one day go off to college and (hopefully!) become productive members of society, whom I can pass on my values and life lessons, teach and guide and be there for in ways that partners and pets don’t require. Of course, also not like pets, they’ll talk back. Unlike pets, however, they’ll (hopefully!) use the toilets! Also dissimilar to pets, they’ll come with their own sets of values and morals—but that is not something to cringe at. It’ll be another life experience, a chance to expand my own horizons and challenge my own thoughts, to continue to embrace the diversity of human thinking and behavior…

Is it bad that I am hoping, however, that none of them want to grow up to be pastors or priests or rabbis? As long as they’re happy, of course, I’ll be happy… But their ultimate choice of profession…?

Ach, who the fuck cares, right? Parents and caretakers have been shaking their head’s at their children’s choices of profession for years… Why should I waste a thought on that?

I just want to raise children who will learn to be content, be productive, and use the toilet…

I don’t think that’s asking too much… Do you?

It’ll be cramped but lovely living…

"Seasonal Insomniatic Disassociative Disorder"...or Something Shiny...

It's kinda starting to hit me, ya know? This whole moving to Florida thing. Mostly because of the reactions from my mother and sister...

When I left for the military, that was different. It was a given that I would come home--I mean, come on, a democrat was president. They don't tend to start wars. Go ahead, google it, I double-dog dare you....

I'll wait...

Okay, so I won't wait. Regardless, college was the same way--it's just assumed kids will come home, ya know? Whether it's holidays, summers... That's what you do 90% of the time--you go home, home, of course, being where your heart is, and my heart has always been with my family...

Most of the time.

Okay, okay, mostly most of the time.

You still love them...

But this...

This is moving. MOVING. (Yes, it needed the bold and underline treatment...) For work. For life. For keeps.

Not that I won't be home for weddings (there's on in the works, ya know!), holidays, special occasions... But it's no longer going to be home in the geographical sense of the word, in that, "My home is within an hour drive of all the major players." Two brothers, two sisters, the parents, cousins, uncles, aunts, nieces and nephews...

I'm going to miss out on a lot. A LOT.

But I'm also going to experience so much more. MUCH MORE.

Okay, I'll stop THAT now.

Maybe...

Nah.

Anyway, something shiny.

Yes, shiny. (A little bit of tired randomness never hurt anyone...) You see, every summer, I get mild insomnia, usually late August, early September. Who knows why (although with the rate we label things "diseases" these days, I could coin a new medical condition for it, like "Seasonal Insomniatic Disassociative Disorder" or something....), but it's a pain in my keister.

It's striking early this year, and I know it's stress.

Knowing it was (is) stress, I channeled my inner nerd, did a spread sheet, crunched the numbers (color-coded, mind you), and I know I will be fine (albeit slightly poor) for the next two years until the debt is completely paid off--them's the breaks. But I *will* make it, and I *will* be fine...

But I lived with Eeyore so long, "doomspeak" is second nature. I abhor doomspeak, so much so that I now purposefully "optimize" every doomspeak scenario that enters the brain. Things like, "Well, even if Dad were on his death bed, what are the odds that I'd make it there before he died even if I still lived locally?" (Don't judge me!). Or, "Well, even if I did end up stranded on a deserted stretch of beach, I've seen cast-away long enough to know not to name my soccer ball 'Wilson,' so it'll all be good and I'll never freeze to death..."

I never claimed they weren't far-fetched doomspeak...

DOOMSPEAK.

(Told ya...)

My mom teared up a bit over dinner--not that this is unusual, but it was in regards to a "Five more weeks!" statement. I could hear Sylvia's voice crack ever so slightly looking at the pics of my new abode while I was on the phone with her. I'm jam-packing my schedule (for me, that is, being the quasi-anti-social being that I am) with a trip here, a lunch there, a dinner then, an outing here, an invitation over there...

I know once I'm down there, life is *really* going to slow down. I'm expecting it, and can't wait to dive into the books that have been packed away for the last ten years and reread some great classics and favorites. (At least, I *tell* myself I can't wait...) Practically, I can still call everyone in my family every day and gab, talk, laugh...

But I will no longer have the option of taking a day just to stop by.

And I think we're all kind of thinking that.

Life will go on. We will all survive, and thrive even.

But I will miss the convenience of having my loved ones close enough to hug.

HUG.





I'm gonna have to make that one last...

I'm going to miss them like you wouldn't believe.

Or, maybe you do.

But this is my blog, therefore, it's about me.

And them...

That's life, ain't it?

Something shiny... And bright... And family...

Mister, Can You Spare a Dime?

So it happened... It was inevitable, really. You can only have your paychecks bounce so often, be siting bored at your desk only so much, and not realize things are bad. Beyond bad, if truth be told. If nothing else, it only proves what we in the middle and lower -class of human beings knew already even if the government won't admit it: the economy still sucks...

Yep, I've been laid off. And although I knew it was coming, it doesn't make the shock of it any easier. So I piled my few personal possessions into a box and walked out the door--and yes, I was smiling while being scared at the same time.

Change is one of those things you either look for the silver lining in, or hide under a rock and hope it passes, leaving only the past intact and decidedly unchanged. Of course, any rational forward-looking individual will realize the futility of keeping the status quo--one would hope, anyway.

So the silver lining:

• I will be able to complete the upstairs and make up for lost time during the last five months of doctor's visits, physical therapy appointments, and the like;
• I will be home when the sewer system goes in next week and be able to do all my own indoor plumbing saving hundreds of dollars;
• I will have more quality time with the husband;
• and, double-bonus, government unemployment paychecks don't bounce...

Of course, there are down sides, but to focus on those would be ultimately self-defeating except as a reminder of things which should not be focused on.

Speaking of focus, is this a good time to mention there won't be a comic tomorrow? I hope that's change you can deal with, dear reader. I've just spent hours on the phone with various governmental agencies, and, well, I'm sure you know how that goes... My focus has been zapped for the evening....

Things will be tight for a bit--considering we do have to put in said sewer system, we're both unemployed now, and food hasn't gotten any cheaper. But I figure people have been through harder times and survived--hell, I've been through harder times and survived--so I know somehow, in some way, we'll be a-okay...

But if you do happen to have any spare change lying around... After all, change is good, especially when you need to make every gold, bronze, or silver piece of change count...

Life Sucks So Beautifully Sometimes...

I love you, blog, and here's why--I could bitch a blue streak for weeks on end with nary a positive thought or comment, and you just take it. You never bitch back, claim you feel used and unloved, and you never, never offer so-called "constructive" criticism... Although I can't claim what my millions of non-commenting readers are thinking, at least they have the decency to read and thus, I am comforted by the fact that perhaps some of the misery and too-infrequent joy is at the very least entertaining to some, if not others...

---

I thought I was getting laid off today--it's never good when the director of HR and your boss call you in just twenty short minutes before the end of the day... I almost wish I had been now...

You see, last week's paycheck is going to bounce. It hasn't yet--I've just checked my checking account balance. But I've been assured in no uncertain terms that this is, in fact, the case. They will cut me a new check... Soon. No ETA on that, but soon. This week's paycheck, however, will only be late. (I was wondering if this was supposed to be the "good news.") Next week's paycheck will also be late, but that should be the end of "late" checks... (Because we plan on winning the lottery?) I kept wondering if this was how they explained the lay-offs and cut hours to the five employees last week... ("We plan on winning the lottery, so this shouldn't last long...")

The only thing I could think of at the time was that at least an unemployment check from the government comes when it's supposed to, and, as far as I know, anyway, doesn't rescind itself one week later! But having never had to collect unemployment before, I only have heresy to go by on that train wreck of a thought... I was thanked for my "understanding" (I'm still a bit unsure what that means in this instance...) and while I do understand that right now the economy sucks the big one (and if I hear one more goddamned cheery-ass reporter tell me "we're clearly in recovery," heads will roll!), I'm still left wondering if I should just cut my losses now and be gone before things get really bad! (Because, you know, this is just a mud puddle on the gold-paved road to financial independence!)

---

Sometimes I catch myself sneaking furtive glances into the darker corners, looking for the hidden cameras. I've obviously volunteered for some type of psychological experiment in which every area of your life, while not quite collapsing, definitely contracts, squeezing and squeezing until you wonder where your next breath will come from.

Don't get me wrong--we are still a bit off from being homeless, or even completely broke! But from the ruined spring harvest due to three months of rain (thus killing the idea of "stocking up" on food), Rich having not gotten paid for a month and a half when the state couldn't pass a budget, to my parents having to sell their home because my father still can't find work, to having a $10,000 sewer bill staring us in the face as they "install" this state-of-the-art plumbing system in our township, watching my own job go through (death throes?) constricting times financially...

I could go on and make an entire list of the bad year this has been, but that would be an exercise in futility as, not only do I not care to actually think of it all, I also don't wish to type it all either... (Bad year, bad bad year!)

But--do you know me well enough to know what's coming next?--there is a bright spot, albeit tiny and insignificant in the face of the overwhelming darkness in my mind at the moment: You see, I've won something (and therefore, can never claim to be a total loser again!) Back in July when we went camping, I entered a raffle. You know the type, where they have a picture of the big beautiful quilt you could win, 5 tickets for $5, 15 tickets for $10? I always buy these tickets wherever we go, not because I could win (have you heard of my track record?) but because they are always to raise money for a charity or fund that's very worth while, and in this case it was to help pay for a certain person's medical expenses. So while I chicken-scratched some barely legible information on the stubs, I pocketed my half of the stubs and ultimately lost them (surprise, surprise!)

And then I received an email: Hi there! You won a prize in the ________ raffle! If you could please verify that you are Jason Huhs by supplying us with an accurate address... After a few back and forth emails, most of which involved my last name ("Hughes, not Huhs!"--I suppose I am starting to take after my mother more as I get older--the proof is in the chicken scratch...), I found out what I had won:


A rainbow-colored set of bears in a rainbow-colored bag with rainbow-colored straps... Could I win a gayer gift? And after this suck-ass week (month...? year...?), it was totally what I needed... A bright spot.

You just have to laugh... Life sucks so beautifully sometimes...

Just a Suggestion...

Sometimes tranquility eludes us. This is a simple fact of life. Whether it's because you go back to work after a week off to find out one person was fired, two were laid off, and three others had their hours cut... Or perhaps it's because your parent's house was sold, then it wasn't, now it is, but they're just waiting to hear from someone... Or it might be because things at home aren't progressing as fast as you would like but there's only so much daylight in a day which, of course, is gone by the time I get home from work because the sun goes down at 4:30 pm instead of 9 p.m. like it did three short months ago...

The emotional exhaustion factor is running rampant in all areas of life at the moment, much like my hamster Nibbles used to do in his squeaky little wheel before my previous black cat, Pavement, decided he would be better as nutrition than an electricity generator... (I've lost more hamsters and gerbils that way...) And while Nibbles, Pipsqueak, Buster, Tripod, and a host of other hamsters and gerbils have gone the way of that great Nike shoebox buried in the backyard--as have Pavement and Spot and their tag-teaming terrorism of my pet rodent population--the giant hamster wheel of life for the rest of us continues in its never-ending cycle. Of course, since our electricity bill is supposed to go up by 30 percent in January due to rate hikes, it would be nice if all this running in that intangible wheel would generate a little extra electricity on the side...

Just a suggestion...

Of course, things will get better, such is the nature of the wheel. It just sucks when you realize you've hit the part of the wheel that's missing a few rungs and you stumble for a bit, stub your toes, bloody your nose, that sort of thing.

Before you know it, Mom and Dad will be enjoying their new home, work will pick up, and the renovations to our home will be complete--it just takes time, patience, and a few more spins of the wheel.

(Squeaky, squeaky, squeaky...) Although, if truth be told, a little WD40 every now and then would be nice... Sort of ease us through the really squeaky parts?

Just another suggestion...

"That Cake's in the Shape of..."

---

Blanche: Why, Rose, that cake's in the shape of--
Dorothy: We know what it is, Blanche...
Rose: I thought it was in the shape of Florida!

---

It seems we've begun telling people now... Thank god! There's nothing I hate more than being censored...

Well, perhaps we haven't told you in person, yet, dear reader, but if you have my number, feel free to call me and we'll discuss it, but first, as I hate despise loathe talking on the phone, first hear me out here--can you do that for me?

In one year, we will be selling our home and moving to Florida. Yes, Florida, the state shaped like... Well, you know...

But that's not why we're moving there--that's just icing... :)

You see, for some strange reason, the brother's Rich and Mike (husband and brother-in-law respectively) harbor not-so-secret passionate desires to live in the Sunshine State--I don't get it, but that's beside the point. For as long as I've known Rich, he's always not only desired, but passionately advocated for Florida as a possible living destination.

If you know me, you know one thing for certain--I am not a beach person. I am, however, a person who loves life, and after about a month of debate and the plop of seven new green things landing on my desk with the cursory, "These are for next week..." Well, as I stared at the half of my desk that is shaped a lot like Florida and the large pile of papers that had just been deposited, I realized that at-home persuasion wasn't necessarily needed any more...

Change was needed...

When I heard that Plop! on the fake wood laminate of my humble office, it was as if the weight of the decision just up and left. Does that mean in still won't be hard? Of course not. I'll be leaving behind all of my siblings, my parents, the nieces and nephs, and friends whom I love just as dearly as the blood coursing through my family's veins... But although I love my family and friends so dearly...

And it may sound harsh, my dear reader, but please don't think less of me for saying what so many others think...

There's more to life than living near your family... (Well, there'll be no taking that back once I hit "publish"...)

There is an entire Earth here waiting to be experienced! To be looked at, enjoyed, explored...! A whole planet! And I've barely seen most of the east side of Pennsylvania! Sure, there was that two-year stint in West Virginia... Not that it counts too much, it was for bible college after all... With my few years in the military, I got a dash of Missouri ("Misery" is more like it!), a touch of Jersey, and a smattering of Texas... A whiff of Ohio, Michigan, and North Carolina also blipped on the radar a handful of times, but they were really more drive-bys, you know?

Rich's reasons are totally different, mind you. He's always fancied himself a beach bunny, wanting to get a nice even tan, wearing ugly Hawaiian shirts, large Jackie-O type sunglasses--not that he does those things now, mind you, but one can just sort of glimpse at Ms. Cleo's crystal ball and get a rough idea of the fashion faux pas I might be in for... I'm hoping with me by his side, we might just avoid the worst of it...

Well, I did say "Might"...

Of course, the first few days of thinking this over, I was quite a nervous wreck, but then it all started coming into focus, and now I'm feeling just the slightest bit Zen about the whole thing. Figuring out new ways to garden... Never shoveling snow again, or wrestling with the coal stove, Disney at my back door, hardly a day all year that goes below 65 degrees, and--well, this is the real happy thought of the moment--I, Mr. Jason Hughes, born January 14, in 19__ can have a fucking POOL PARTY in the MIDDLE of FUCKING WINTER!!!!

Now, don't misunderstand, dear reader--nothing is set in stone. After all, who knows what the future holds! ("Call me now, Ms. Cleo!!") But the ball has started rolling. A list has been drawn up of all the things that need fixed before selling this place. A long list of web sites have been saved, neighborhood searches are being done, realtor.com has been visited more than once...

And let's not forget, there's the shape of the state to consider...

There's something invigorating about this decision: a new place to live, new neighborhoods to explore, new foods to try, new cultures and subcultures to learn about... I almost feel like I did before I left for basic training... Nervous, excited, scared, giddy... I was the first one to move out of our home growing up... The first one to go to another state for college. The first one to move north of Pottstown... (The real kicker is I'm not even the oldest!) But I've never really been too afraid to try new things and new places--just scared enough (which I think is a bit healthy) to be cautious (hence the flurry of web searching going on) but excited enough to not over-think it too long...

I think...

As I said, nothing is set in stone... But wheels are moving, gears are grinding...

We're going to be moving to Florida... Not that I'm telling work that yet--after all, until things are set in stone, there's really no need to rock the boat (hint, hint, fellow co-workers who venture over here now and then...)

But until then, I get to stare at that half of my desk shaped like...

Where Time Stand Still...

Don't get the wrong idea, dear reader... Time standing still isn't anything that happens around here--in fact, time flies just a bit too quickly for this country boy wanna-be. Has it really been that long since my last post? So many things have drifted through my mind the last few days (okay, okay, weeks!), the least of which is "Why does a giant hafta have a companion ox who's not only named Babe but has to be blue?" Such are the drifting ruminations when the mind has time to wander. Included among these were passing glimpses into the strange mind of Jason that I felt needed to written about (although the time to do so never seemed to materialize) are

• Who decided "clockwise" was the correct direction for things to spin?
• Doesn't Tony Perkins ever get tired of lying about the so-called "gay agenda"? (I'm assuming he must not be a fan of top ten lists...)
• Why must you say every single M. Night Shyamalan movie title in a Haley Joel Osment whisper?
• Why would anyone--anyone--think that stretch pants look good on them?

Hmm... Perhaps some of these things are best left unexplored, yeah?

So, as I'm enjoying the first beautiful Saturday of the spring building the brick pathway on the right (the left hopefully to be done on the next beautiful spring Saturday...) contemplating the fact that on Friday we laid off four workers due to losing our second-biggest client on Monday, the bane of my existence (aka Luthor from across the street) decides he's going to yap my ear off for three hours... THREE MISERABLE HOURS!!! I'm all for lonely old men getting out of their homes every now and then to see what they're missing in life, but not on my time... But I deal with it, grunt an acknowledgement of his existence on this planet every now and again as I saw timber, lay sand and brick, measure distances and do higher math (aka anything more than two plus two...) to get things right and accurate until...

---

Man: Hi there!
Luthor: I'll see you later Jason. I haven't had breakfast yet.
Me: But it's 1:30 in the afternoon! What--? Oh...
Man: Is that your grandfather? I'd like to speak to him as well.
Me: No, and if you do find out we're related somehow, pull the plug. Who're you?
Man: Hi, I'm Stan, and I'm a member of the church just up the street, you may have heard of us? Din--
Me: Hi, Stan. Say, listen, can I ask you something?
Stan: Uh... Sure?
Me: Do people walk up to you when you're dirty, laying a brick sidewalk, listening to old men yammer endlessly?
Stan: Uh--
Me: Do I come knocking on your door to tell you the wonderful time my life is because I enter a building once a week?
Stan: I, uh....
Me: Do I look like I'm in any position to quit where I am on this project just so you can ask me if I've found the love of Jesus or some such other nonsense?
Stan: (extremely distressed look) Well, I...
Me: Fine, you don't waste my time, I won't waste any more of yours. Have a nice day.
Stan: But--
Me: I said have a nice day, Stan, now please go on about your business while not being on my property, okay?

---

Yes, I'm sure I took away his happy thought. In fact, I guarantee it! While I did happen to appreciate the irony of the bane of my existence being scared off by the less annoying bane of existence, really--would you walk up to someone who looked very busy, annoyed as hell at his "grandfather" (shudder shudder) while he's holding bricks, and expect him to listen to your spiel about fairy godfathers and such?

Hmm... Well, maybe you would. But I'm sick of wasting my happy garden time for yappy neighbors and holy rollers (believe it or not, Luthor's term!!). Luthor, of course, later came back to tell me that he was actually a "very nice" holy roller "for a Lutheran," but apparently didn't know "we were Baptists."

While my "baptist" status in the neighborhood came as a bit of a shock ("Who is 'we'?" I asked. "You know, real Christians, not these holy rollers!" was his reply), I asked how it was possible a man named Luthor wasn't a Lutheran? (He didn't get it--84 and addle brained!!) Thankfully, his "breakfast" was on the stove and he needed to get back. He just wanted me to know how nice the young man was...

Yeah I thought, he and his big blue ox...

At least the right half got done... Something tells me it'll be a while before I get around to the left, especially if the rest of this year follows today's pattern...

A Turning of the Tide? orThe Calm Before the Storm?

In just the last two weeks, the number of states with legal same-sex marriage has doubled. (I'm still not sure if that's sad or amazing.) The first was Iowa which, just last week, ruled that denying marriage to same-sex couples was unconstitutional. I think I speak for most East Coasters when I say I almost fell off my chair... Iowa? Seriously? A mid-west state has just legalized same-sex marriage? Let's face it, the mid-west bread-basket portion of our country gets the short end of the stick when it comes to social policy. Not only has the so-called "Family Research Council" been in over-drive, slamming my in-box full of emails exhorting me to "speak up" for marriage since it's "in the cross hairs" (because everyone knows you ruin more marriages with gays than guns...). But even after I got up off the floor and back into my office chair, it seemed just moments later when the legislators of Vermont voted to override their governor's veto and pass a bill for same-sex marriage (I'm sure we all feel bad for Tony Perkin's not being able to use the "activist judges" phrase in this case...)

When I pried my head out from the ceiling tiles and dropped back down to the floor, it hit me fully: Two states in less than seven days! Then another email came in: Washington D.C. had voted to recognize same-sex marriages performed in other states...

The nation's capitol city... Will recognize same-sex marriages...

I do believe I passed out...

There are now four states in which same sex marriage is currently legal (five states in which same-sex marriages have been performed--I think at this point California can suck it!): Connecticut, Vermont, Massachusetts, and Iowa. There are now four more states considering bills to legalize same-sex marriage: New Hampshire, Maine, New York and New Jersey. There are even more states (and districts [D.C.]) that will recognize those relationships even if they won't perform those marriages: Rhode Island, New York, and New Mexico!

I'm still flabbergasted that the East Coast is demolishing the West Coast in terms of equality--not to mention Iowa representing for the bread basket! (What is UP with THAT?!) And when you look at the world view? Sweden just became the fifth European nation to allow same-sex marriage, following the Netherlands, Norway, Belgium and Spain! And who could forget our neighbor to the north Canada! Add South Africa and Nepal--the tide does seem to be turning indeed!

But then I read Ryan's Blog where he talked about gays in Iraq. After some research I found the following map (clicking on map will open it in a larger window...):


Homosexuality legal

██ Same-sex marriage recognized

██ Other type of partnership (or unregistered cohabitation) recognized

██ No recognition of same-sex couples

██ Foreign same-sex marriages recognized

Homosexuality illegal

██ Minimal penalty

██ Large penalty

██ Life in prison

██ Death penalty

Does anyone notice anything disturbing? Places where religion have a stronghold on a nation's laws and policies have a very disturbing record when it comes to equal rights for same-sex couples... Conservative Christians in the United States, Fundamentalist Muslims in the Middle East, the combination of both in various parts of Africa, not to mention the socialist and communist areas of the map--more and more the "defenders" of "traditional marriage" are seen side-by-side with very strange bed fellows! Russia, China, Islamic countries, and the conservative Christians of the United States united together in preventing same-sex couples from entering into life-long, committed relationships so that they can care for one another in the same way heterosexual couples take for granted--truly a "godly plan" if I ever saw one... It's quite scary that the only difference between the fundies over here and the fundies over there is that I can no longer be put to death simply for existing... Sparse comfort, but comfort nonetheless I suppose...

But I remain hopeful (if only because the "depths of despair" isn't nearly as cozy as the highs of anticipation...). I can't help but to believe in my fellow human beings, for I truly believe that everyone, even when they make the greatest mistakes and commit the most awful atrocities, are almost always sincerely trying to do the right thing, no matter how misguided or mistaken.I can't help but think that the ignorant fear and misguided "defenders" will realize the error futility mistakes they are making with their current decision-making processes. As if what two consenting adults do with one another is more important than the millions starving around the world. As if two penis's in one bedroom were more important than thousands dying from inadequate health care.

I can't help but to believe that, in the end, before I breathe my last breath, before I leave this Earth for eternity, I will be able to declare my love in front of my friends and loved ones, to be able to care for him as he grows older, to not have to worry that our dying days will be filled with angst and worry over money instead of spending our last days sharing in one another's company, cherishing our time, sharing our love...

Dear America--dear world!--I have faith that eventually, you will all realize what a mistake you have made in fighting against equality. That you will come to terms with your irrational fears and conquer them with the reason you possess. That you will finally recognize your fellow man and woman for the individuals they are--just like you, with the same hopes and dreams you have, with the same expectations from life, family, and friends you have. To be loved, accepted, deserving of respect, and treated equally in the eyes of the law and in the depths of the heart.

I have faith in you, my fellow human being--can't you have the same in me?

---

---

Sources for this post:

• Chicago Tribune
• National Public Radio
• Wikipedia

Awkwardness....

Even the word looks a bit off, doesn't it?

I'm supposed to take a woman who has been doing this job for over 25 years in the green thing industry and make her "faster."

I've been with this company for seven years, doing this job for three, have been told repeatedly that I am the fastest and most profitable AT this job (not to brag, just stating what I've been told), and am supposed to take my "fastness" and impart this wisdom of speed and profitability onto her...

Awkwardness...

I've always been the fastest at ANY position I've held. I'm a fast learner, I take shortcuts when necessary, and when I get bored, I tend to be a very BAD employee--which is why I like this job--there isn't much time for boredom, hence, I'm almost always the good guy...

But I've never been told to take old dogs and teach them new tricks like this before...

Adding to the awkwardness is it's pretty well-known that I don't like this person. I've never been a fan of people who are bad at their jobs, know that they're bad at their jobs, yet keeping making excuses for why they are bad at their jobs. I find it pitiful and repugnant to continually punish your fellow coworkers for your incompetence! But that could just be me...

Let the punishment begin...

Worried About Losing That Working Feeling...

It's just a tad bit scary when you go into work and see a real estate sign out front. What's even scarier is when you get lied to about why it's there: "Oh, no, that actually is supposed to be in front of the building next door--they put it on the wrong lawn."

Uh-huh. That's why it's still there four days later...

...and why I can find it on a certain realty web site for commercial businesses...

...showing our building as "For Lease."

What it doesn't say is when the building is available for occupancy... I'm half tempted to call the realtor to see when it would be, just so I have my doomsday date, you know?

Perhaps I don't want to know...

On the more optimistic side, perhaps we're just moving buildings again, yeah? To a new location maybe? A new office?

But I abhor being lied to.... Especially when my livelihood is at stake... Which makes me seriously doubt the validity of my usually optimistic outlook on life at the moment...

I'm sure it's not as dire as my mind is making me think it is...

---

And why in Sam Hill does spell check demand that "realtor" be capitalized? Last I checked, "garbage man," "plumber," "house wife," and "project supervisor" aren't capitalized on a regular basis--who do realtor's think they are, gods or something?

Tell you what, Merriam Webster--when we start capitalizing everyone's job description and title, then I'll go along with this little charade... Until then, I'm lower casing it, if only because it's one small portion on my world that I can control at the moment...

---

(Isn't it amazing how obstinate we get when things are happening beyond our control?)

On Irish Car Bombs and Bally...

I'd like to be the first to make a motion that St. Patrick's day from here hence forth shall only be recognized, celebrated, and acknowledged on either Friday nights or Saturday nights...

So how Irish was I last night? Let me count the ways:

• 1 Irish car bomb (pictured)
• 2 pink fruity things
• 1 Mike's Hard Lemonade
• 2 rum and Pepsi's
• 1 gay kiss at a straight bar in small town PA at a "traditional" Irish wake

... and me back at work with only four hours of sleep...

And I promised myself I would call off today. I'd like to take this opportunity to thank my parents for the guilt-ridden work-ethic they passed on to me, their 2nd of 5 offspring...

Such a blast, though, such a blast... The town of Bally didn't know what hit them--especially when I ran into two cousins and an aunt!! OMG!

Here's the weird circle of my life--I have a hubbie named Rich. Together we went to the Bally Hotel with his cousin Courtney, our friend Trace, Trace's cousin Rick, and his friend Debbie. When we ran into my cousins Megan and Matt, it came up that Courtney, long before she knew anyone in my family, used to cut their hair when they were but wee lad's and lassies. And Matt knew Rick from Zern's where he has a stand (Zern's is the farmer's market in Boyertown my great-grandfather used to own most of)! It was like the six degrees of Jason in Bally! (Okay, okay, all this seemed a lot weirder when we were all heavily buzzed... Huh.... "were" buzzed?)

Come on, you know you wanna start singing "It's a Small World After All!" And even if you didn't, you're singing it now in your head. Consider it a traditional Irish curse. :) We didn't get due representation on the ride in Disney, thus you are cursed to have it swimming around your noggin for at least another hour or two...

We did manage to earn ourselves a lot of Mardi Gras beads (I know, I know, but something tells me beads are becoming more and more universally accepted at EVERY holiday...) I think there was at least two spilled green beers, a broken camera, at some point someone did the Hustle (mistaking it for a dirge), and we all joined hands and tried our hands at River Dancing.... That last was thanks in large part from the car bombs--taste like chocolate, hits you faster than Obama's economic recovery package, and leaves you feeling much better than either on it's own...

It was a good night... I'll post some pics as soon as my fellow Irishmen and women wake and upload from their various broken and unbroken technological appendages--after all, the proof is in the car bomb...

---

---

For those who wish to make their own Irish car bomb:

• 1/2 oz. Irish Cream (Bailey's)
• 1/2 pint Stout (Guinness)
• 1/2 oz. Whiskey, Irish (Jameson)

Mixing Instructions:
Pour half a pint of chilled Guinness into a beer mug and let it settle. Take a shot glass filled with 1/2 oz. of Irish whiskey on the bottom and 1/2 oz. of Irish cream on top. Drop the shot glass into the Guinness and chug.

Chug, chug, chug, chug-chug-chug-chug-CHUG-CHUG-CHUG-CHUG...

The Un-Fortune-ate Cookie...

After you've worked and almost 55 hour work week, you look forward to Friday night dinner almost reverently. You arrive at the buffet, greet your friends and family, and begin to chow down on lo-mien, General Tsao's, egg rolls, crab legs--you know, you stuff yourself silly with Americanized foreign foods. You're having a great time, laughing and talking. The bill arrives with a cookie for everyone, and per custom, we throw them into the air, and wherever the pointed ends face, that's the person who gets that fortune (within reasonable proximity, of course...)

We open them one by one and read off the little vague prophecies: "Careful what you wish for," "Happiness can only be found from within, "Unicorns dance in your shadows"--cheesy stuff like that.

... and then I open mine...

---

To get what you truly desire, you must work harder.

---

"Excuse me?!" I've just busted my ass all week meeting silly deadlines on green things for really awful people who feel they are important and I must work harder?!?!?! If I were a bit more superstitious--or religious, for that matter--I might think that the cosmos is having a great belly laugh at my expense (not that my friends didn't get a good one from this...), but what the hell? They could have at least flowered that shit up a bit--you know, something like "Hard work brings great contentment" or "To live for work is working to live." Hell, I probably would have even been okay with "Work sucks, get used to it." Okay, maybe not so much on that last one either...

You have to wonder how bad the economy is when even fortune cookies are filled with doom and gloom...

Chewing the Cud Over This and That...

---

Rich: Hey, can you take the ash out?
Me: ... No.
Rich: Wha-- Please?
Me: No.
Rich: You are going out to smoke, right?
Me: Yes.
Rich: Why can't you take the ash out with you?
Me: I will next time.
Rich: Please?
Me: No.
Rich: Please?
Me: Who are you, my nephew? N. O. No. I will do it later.
Rich: But I need the room!
Me: My mistake, your actually baby Jesus, not my nephew.
Rich: Ha-hah. Now, please?
Me: I could have been done with my cigarette by now, and you could have already taken it out yourself by now.
Rich: And you could have taken it out by now.
Me: Your point? I'm not the one who wants it empty "right now," am I?
Rich: You're in a mood.
Me: See you in five.
Rich: But--

---

Yes, I, too, can be a bitch. But you knew that, didn't you?

It must be too much to ask for five minutes of peace, you know? And I don't even have kids! (Well, actual kids--I have plenty of mentally-aged children, however...) All I want is to finish one thing that's been sitting on my desk all week. Just. One.

I'd also like to come home and not hear Hawthorne pretending to be Jeff Gordon as he speed-races with that freakin' ball back and forth, back and forth...

And is it too much to ask for one day above 35 degrees? I mean, seriously--unless the magnetic poles have shifted that much this past year, this is not the North Pole, am I right? One. Day. Above. Thirty. Five.

On the brighter side, Obama is beginning to clean up that disastrous mess Shrubya made--you know, with everything. Closing Gitmo, disassociating the United States with torture (when did we stop respecting individual rights and human dignity? Oh, that's right--when the "compassionate conservative" was in the White House...), helping soldiers to do their jobs by making them adhere to the U.S. Army Field Manual with regards to detainees, getting the lobbyists (mostly) out, pay freezes within the government to stem the hemorrhaging, halting the disastrous Mexico City Policy further ensuring that women will have the same freedoms and choices as our men... His first two days have made me happier than--well, happier then just having Shrubya out of office ever could have done.

And while most of my conservative friends bitch on Facebook about how they will "miss a man of principle" in the White House and continue to doom-say an administration less than two days old despite the fact that he himself is a Christian--well, I don't know what to tell them...

Obama has a lot to live up to, granted. A lot of promises and pretty speeches were made, and the honeymoon period in which he is accomplishing all of this won't last forever. Shrubya set the bar so low a goldfish could do a good job as president at this point--but I'm hoping Obama sets it so high it'll be hard for anyone to surpass him in action, eloquence, and the prestige he is beginning to return to the highest office in the land.

If only I could be so effective at work... But then again, I'm not president... Yet...

Lying on our backs and counting the stars...

It was just like looking upon an old photo--the memories of hiking, playing pool and ping-pong, eating around the large dining room table. Except this time it was so much better than a photo...

I drove slowly up the now-paved road, convinced I had made a wrong turn somewhere. "Clem Mark is on a dirt road," I explained to Rich. "It's on top of the mountain--somewhere over there," I repeated again, waving my hand in the general direction of more nowhere.

But as we crested the next hill, there it was, nestled among the very same pines, across the street from the very same barn, it's wide back porch looking out over the rolling Appalachian mountains.

I slowed down. I wanted this to last forever, never to end! I had never thought to see it again. When my father had been laid off ten years ago due to "corporate restructuring," we had thought the company lodge was one of those things now past. The summers of star gazing, hiking, and romping in Tioga County were over--or had been over.

We were the last to arrive--the rest of the family who had said they would go had left for the lodge on Thursday night, but I couldn't get off of work Friday morning. I had to wait with grand impatience as they all called to say they had arrived, or had just left, but now I was here as well.

A great time was had, new memories were made, and most of the in-laws were introduced to the tranquil escape of our childhood. Many of them thought it a myth, others a rumor, and yet others that it must be 20/20 hindsight that made
Clem Mark so grand, so peaceful, so... Seventies decor...

Of course, the seventies decor remained, and rather than being a gaudy sight, it was a comfort. The barn across the street may have a new roof, there may be a few more houses dotting the roadside on the way up to the lodge, the road may now be paved, but here--here at Clem Mark, time had stopped.

And indeed, through the eyes of my nieces and nephews, I saw the magic come alive again. "Can we play pool?" "Who wants to play ping-pong?" "Are we really going to hike all the way up there?"

We did "hike all the way up there," and then some. Wine tasting, feeding the horses, playing games, talking, catching up, resting, and of course, the gratuitous eating. It wouldn't have been a family vacation otherwise. And the nights spent sitting out on the grass, watching the stars? The Milky Way so clear you could just reach up and take a swipe! Shooting stars seemed to also make their home here (along with a few "UFO" sightings! LOL!), and between the utter darkness of the night, the complete absence of traffic, people, and lights, and the knowledge that we would always have this together--
this night, this moment, this vacation...

Who knows if we'll ever get there again--indeed, I don't expect the opportunity will come again, if only to keep my hopes from getting too high. Rich made sure to capture every waking moment, even going so far as to record an entire breakfast around the large dining room table! Many photos were taken, and though some very dear and wonderful people couldn't make it, hopefully, if the opportunity does come again, this time the pictures can be completed.

Of course, these moments go all too quickly. Before we knew it, Monday morning had come. Time to clean up and clear out. Leaving wasn't as hard as I expected, if only because too much of a good thing never can stay as good as you expect. If I had the opportunity to stay, I still don't think I would choose to, if only because it would ruin the magic, the small place of reality where time does stop and memories last forever... But where new ones can still be made today...

Micromanagement Will Be the Death of Me...

Boss: "Why didn't you use the yellow form?"
Me: "Why should I? It has everything the white form has on it; it's just yellow."
Boss: "But the yellow is meant to point out that it's a different client."
Me: "Isn't that what the line 'Client: _______' is for?"
Boss: "That's not the point. The point is, when you are doing paperwork for Client X, you have to use yellow."
Me: "But why?"
Boss: "Because... Is everyone else using the yellow form?"
Me: "I dunno..."
Boss: "We'll need to have a meeting. Go get Tom, Dick, and Harry*, and I'll get everyone else to my office... Say, 10 minutes?"
Me: "Because I didn't use the unneccessary yellow form? Isn't yellow paper more expensive?"
Boss: "I'm not sure, but we need to make sure we utilize the tools at our disposal. Ten minutes, my office."

*Names have been changed for no reason whatsoever...

This, unfortunately, is a daily occurrence in one form or another... No pun intended...

Thanks to the sis-in-law, Ann, for the link to the awesome cartoonist full of inspiration here.



Sigh. That'd be so nice...

6.5 more working days until vacation...

Untitled

You know how you have so much on your mind, but your fingers can't keep up with your thoughts and it seems pointless especially when you just...

AAAARRRRGGGHHHHH!!!!!!

As of right now, I'm off-duty in the "Help me with my problem" department.

Well, at least for the rest of today...

What was that magic soap of the '80s? Calgon?

Advertisers should just stop marketing this crap if it doesn't work...

The Russian Glare...

Yesterday, driving home from work in a 1/4" of snow, the radio announcer said, "There are so many accidents to report, it would take too long to read them all. Just remember, go slow, give yourself extra time, the roads are bad!" as he slipped us in to the nth repeat of a song by Finger Eleven.

Yes, ladies and gentlemen, a 1/4" of snow, and the idiots hit the roads in record numbers, causing my 40 minute commute home to be almost 2 hours... What never ceases to amaze me is how many SUV's and large pickup trucks I see stranded on the sides of Routes 309 and 100 while my rear-wheel drive Mustang cruises on by with nary a wiggle in its fanny...

Morons.

Today, however, almost all the snow had melted (as there was SO MUCH of it to melt!) and the radio announcer said, "No accidents or delays to report just the normal slow spots with the Russian Glare," as we swung into the nth repeat of a song by Beyonce...

Huh?! I immediately pictured a 20-foot-tall Stalin hanging out alongside all the various highways and byways, strong disapproval at the American consumerism he saw rampant around him; Going Godzilla on people's asses as they tried to end Friday on a high note at a local pub, meal with their family, what-have-you; Shouting "Down with Capitalism and Democracy!" in his fur-lined winter hat! I imagined the footage on the 6 o'clock news, the YouTube videos, the sob stories of lost loved one's when Stalin stepped on their car/ate the dog/flossed with their clothesline!

Then I realized: Rush and glare. Rush [hour] and [sun] glare. Not "Russian Glare." "Rush and glare."

Enunciation is key, I suppose. I placed my sun glasses on as I crested the mountain on the way home, at least glad that it was sunlight (not snow) and SUV's (not Russian dictators) I was contending with this Friday evening...

After all, who needs that after a week of work?

Two Weeks and Counting...

Two weeks seems to be the going theme 'round these parts. For two weeks now, we've had an addition to the family (supposedly temporary)... Her given name was Mary. I could go into the ironies of having a female yellow lab named after the mother of a pretty popular man-god hybrid (should I ask her for her paw-tograph?), but we've given to calling her Large Marge. In another strange twist of fate, this was also the nickname of our junior high bus driver...

Two weeks is also the amount of time it takes for a test to come back on whether Monsters have indeed invaded a human body! You'd think with all the hype around "We have the best health care system!" and "We spend tons more money on health care!" there would be a little machine you would just hook up to and --Badda-bing badda boom!--you know if you have a Monster or not. But there are more important things, you know, than making sure people don't die needlessly: There's the whole "gay marriage" issue, the "Save the fetal tissue!" movement, not to mention the "The bible is a science book!" mania. One wonders about the amount of good that could happen if these people actually tried to use this passion for things like feeding the orphans, the widows, the needy and poor as opposed to just crying about how against things all the time--you know, things their man-god hybrid seemed so all-about back in the day...

Two weeks is also the amount of time it takes from the time your company decides to stop its 401(k) program until you get your check...

Two weeks...

Time is a funny thing, isn't it? It could be an illusion, sure, but my nifty digital alarm clock surely doesn't think so, and my boss would be quite upset if that was a reason I was late, wouldn't he? Never mind the loss of my 401(k), something about arriving late and trying "Time is an illusion, sir" doesn't seem feasible. I'd be out a lot more money than a few months of 4% deferment, I can guarantee that!

Regardless, time also allows us to take a step back, breathe a little breath, and look for the silver lining (does anyone else wonder why it isn't a "gold lining"?). Things seem a bit better after a few days, and hope is allowed once again to enter through the mind's eye. It could be because two dogs are more fun than one... It could be because a doctor doesn't seem as worried as you think he would be given other circumstances. It could be--just maybe--that life must go on. Time must go on. The bill collectors don't stop calling just because you're worried about tomorrow, let alone two weeks from now. Large Marge and Hawthorne still need fed, still need to go outside, still need to be shown that they, too, are an important part of life.

Sure, bad things could still happen. In two weeks, this blog may have a completely different tone, depending on what is found out about the Monster. In two weeks, the world could end, Bush could drop a nuke on Iran, or poodles could take over the world... Who's to say?

I'll let you know in two weeks...

(Not to worry--I'm sure I'll have much more to say until then...)

10 Lessons I Learned on Summer Vacation...

For starters, you may all now call me:JASON:
Lord of the Dragon Temple

So we were in Ocean City from Wednesday to Sunday afternoon, and by-golly-cheese-and-crackers it was a blast! We have now officially extended our average vacation from 1 twenty-four hour period to 3 twenty-four hour periods... After eight years together, I think we deserved it...

Of course, it didn't start out that promising...

We spent July 4th morning at the movies in awe of the new Transformers movie, which, it must be said, was awesome in the special effects department, but a little lacking in the actual story department. But if you keep your expectations low (as did I...), you won't be disappointed. And I do say, it must be seen on the big screen. We then left to go to my sister Cynthia's house for her annual "It wouldn't be a picnic at Chuck and Cindy's if there weren't tons of games going on" family picnic, which, as always, was fun.

Unfortunately, for the third year in a row, for Rich and I, at least, the fireworks were rained out...

This does not make for a gay time.

But we hung out, Rich sang some karaoke, and then it was off to Ocean City, Maryland.

Which brings us to

Lesson One: Objects on maps are farther than they appear. A trip that--according to Yahoo Maps, should have taken three hours--took five. When you're driving down I-95 at only 25 mph due to heavy downpours, you think that leaving at 10 at night was not only a bad idea, but a cursed one. Factor in the two types of morons that are typically on the roads in torrential downpours (those that think their car never hydroplanes and those that think rain means going 5 mph in the passing lane of the road) and you begin to get a glimmer of the amount of road-rage that was building in my body when 2 hours later we still weren't out of Pennsylvania...

Such is life, right?

We finally arrive at our destination! Despite the rain, morons, and a small detour through some small towns when a certain someone mistakes a Rt 113 sign for a Rt 1 sign, we think, This is it! Now vacation can begin! We greet our friends, meet some new ones, and quickly unload the car. After a quick tour of the Ocean City McMansion which was to die for, we all agree that we should hit the sack as we plan on actually doing things on our vacation...

We sleep wonderfully in the salty sea air blowing through the windows, and awake refreshed and ready to see the sites!

Which brings us to:

Lesson Two: There's one in every family. Trace's 40th birthday has been inked in to our day planner for almost 8 months, and the plan was she was having family invited all week, with friends welcome from Wednesday on...

The only one in her family to actually take her up on the all-week offer was her cousin, whom I dubbed mentally as "Ass-lee." Most mortals pronounce it Ashley, but trust me: He is not the embodiment of a certain Gone With the Wind romantic figure. In fact, if you take how my brother Mike used to be, add in a healthy dose of my uncles' Kip and Chuck--with a twist of lemon--you have Ass-lee.

Granted, the dude's had a rough life. He's not all there, if you take my meaning. So what does one do when life hands you an Ass-lee? You make Ass-onade. And, truthfully, he seemed to try really really hard to be on his best behavior, so credit must go where credit is due: He could have been a lot worse. I know Trace was afraid he brought down the whole tone of the festivities, but, having been an older brother and duo-nephew to such, I understand the burden of that responsibility, of that feeling that you must apologize for something (or, in this case, someone...) you have no control over. But if one tried to overlook the "Nigger" and "Fag" references, the erratic driving, the sudden mood swings, one could see the little boy who was just trying to be cool, to be one of the guys, to be accepted and loved... Of course, I also think the fact that I had three (Mike's a much better person these days, bringing the number in my family down to two...), I think I also had a higher tolerance level than some...

What I wonder is why these types almost never figure out that, if you want to be accepted, stop trying to impress us all the time...

Sigh. Not to worry, though. He didn't ruin our vacation, but he did add some interesting moments that will most likely help me to enjoy the memories more... I think that's just my twisted sado-masochistic streak... So sue me...

Regardless, we woke up Thursday morning, put on a brave face, and hit the boardwalk.

Which bring us to

Lesson Three: I am much prettier in Pennsylvania than at the beach in Ocean City. If you ever want to bring your self-confidence down to a whole new level, spend some time staring at all the body worshippers at the beach. This typically brings about thoughts such as "Why didn't I spend more time in the gym before I came here," or "Why do I ever bother going to a gym?" It's rare that I've ever been surrounded by such beauty on a human level (we're talking strictly physical fitness here...), and it's very intimidating, especially when you've always viewed yourself as the fat kid who will never be able to diversify from a one-pack to a six-pack. (Well, only time will tell...) After about three hours, though, you forget about how beautiful they all are and begin enjoying yourself, and we had a great time browsing through the shops, soaking up the sites, and listening to the waves crash on the ocean...

Which brings us to

Lesson Four: The ocean is much more enjoyable at night. After dinner at someplace which I can't recall the name of (but which served all-you-can-eat crab, chicken, ribs, and corn on the cob for only $24.95 a person...), we all headed back to the house, where we parted company for a time. Trace and Company went to Dewey beach to see a band playing while Rich and I decided to... um... let's just say, make ourselves at home... Okay, what the hell, I'm already rated NC-17, right? Fucked like rabbits.

Life is good. We then walked the 100 yards to the shore and sat on the sand cliffs, watching the stars, guessing which wave would be the next one to get us soaking wet, and just sitting there, holding hands, enjoying the silence...

At about 1:30 in the morning, we decided to head back to the house to see if Trace and Company were back from the club to begin a night of game playing, which brings us to

Lesson Five: Just because you ain't as pretty doesn't mean someone doesn't want a little somethin-somethin... As we dance across the sand toward to sidewalk to the house, two young boys come up behind us. "Hey guys, having fun? Where you staying? Looking for company?" They couldn't have been more than 15 or 16, and all I could think was, "Are you for real? Are you kidding? Isn't it past your bedtime?" We smiled, said hi, and kept walking...

We reached the house and realized that they weren't back yet, helped ourselves to the community fridge, which led to

Lesson Six: Just because your host tells you it's a community fridge doesn't mean everyone got the message. Ass-lee was quite upset when he got back form the club and there were only two slices of pizza left. I couldn't help but wondering, "Why is two slices not enough?" as well as "What part of community fridge didn't you understand?" He went to bed very shortly thereafter, which is when we were informed that he didn't even buy the pizza. It was someone else's who had already left for the rest of the week. So much for pissing rights.

The next day brought new and exciting challenges: Where should we eat now? Who wants a Mimosa? How does it feel to not be at work... again! I think that was the only time I had a passing thought for all my poor fellow canaries back in the mine... We went to Secrets, a restaurant where they have tables in the water and where you enjoy a drink while water laps at your thighs and the most happening music is pumped out of speakers. Awesome food, by the way. After our 3 hour lunch, we went out and hit the beach! This, of course, is Rich's dreamland, as well as his cousin Courtney's, and they spent a great deal of time soaking up the salty water while I hot-bod watched from under a tent drinking my "Kool-Aid" (the quotes are there for a reason...) We then went out to see the band Arizona, and I think we hit the sack at four, maybe five in the morning... Which brings us to...

Lesson Seven: You can survive on only 2.5 hours of sleep... We had to be out of the house by 10 am on Saturday. I was under the impression that we not only had to be out of the house, but have it clean. I woke up at 7:30 with the intention of a super fast shower followed by some vacuuming, dusting, scrubbing, and all-around make-my-mother-proud work. Luckily, Trace was also awake around that time and informed me we had to be out at ten because that's when the cleaning people showed up...

I was happy that, once again, vacation won out and work was not to be had. Although we were out at the appointed hour, it wasn't until later we realized poor Trace had left some of her favorite pairs of shoes in the closet. Someone at Goodwill will be hitting the Jackpot later this week...

We hit the beach again, this time heading up to Rehobeth, a place where I as a child spent many summers as my great-grandparents had had a summer home there. As I was following Trace's friends Tammy and Deb...

Lesson Eight: Cops are still around, even though you are on a break from life. Flashing lights appear in the rear view mirror. I thought, "What's going on? I'm going just as fast as everyone else?"

That doesn't matter, apparently. It seems that cops can just willy-nilly pick you at random for the sharing of a little dough for the state coffers, and it seems I had won the lottery--not really the windfall I was expecting. Luckily, Delaware doesn't realize what a killing they could make off this whole "speeding ticket" fiasco (unlike a certain Keystone State...) and my fine is only about $40 for going 53 in a 35 zone... In Keystone dollars, that's about $230. Either that, or I'm prettier than I thought I was at the beach. Regardless, after an hour gets wasted sitting on the side of the road, we're back on our way. We hit Rehobeth, and we learn

Lesson Nine: You can get a nasty, nasty burn on your feet. Poor Rich has almost 2nd degree burns on the tops of his feet. While he was very militant about sunblock in every conceivable crevice, his poor toes decided to rebel. Now that it's Monday night, the swelling has gone down some, and the blistering is starting to subside with generous amounts of aloe. He thinks it's the cheapest price he could pay for such a grand vacation, and for that I say "Good show!" (He's much more of an optimist since the vacation...)

But before the burns made their presence known, we did our usual tourist thing: Get a magnet for the fridge, a shot glass for the cabinets, and a picture of us in front of some landmark that we won't remember the name of in a few weeks.

We then hit mini-golf, one of our favorite past times, which is where I earned the title Lord of the Dragon Temple. It was an awesome mini golf course, nothing like that here in Allentown... Not that I whipped anyone's ass, but I won, and it was a nice fuzzy-warm... All in all, a great time. We came home Sunday (in only three and a half hours), picked up Hawthorne, and began the countdown to work on Monday morning, which brings us to

Lesson Ten: No one at work cares. You normally think you'd greet work refreshed, ready to tackle the pile, gung-ho for that "work for a living" feeling, wouldn't you? I know my place of employment better than that.

Even though I had stayed late Tuesday before I left to place all my emails into job notes, gotten all the inserts to green things primed and ready for insertion on all my projects that I knew were coming in while I was out, had sent out a list of on-going projects that would need completed for some reason or another, do you think I came back to work with a clean desk?

Try five unscheduled green things that had come in and needed done before 3 pm Monday. Not to mention the other scheduled green things that Those in Power had known also needed done when I got back...

I was so tempted to quit right then and there. I could live under the boardwalk for a few weeks, right? Live off the left-over all-you-can-eat food that others don't finish when they're so bloated on the good life, couldn't I?

When others are out, and I commit to doing their unscheduled green things, I do their unscheduled green things. Don't tell me you need a "list" of what to do if you don't plan on doing shit! That's a waste of everyone's time! Of course, Those with Power decided that I could use some help, and took away my Green B Mass... The simplest, easiest, and by far the quickest thing to do on my desk... I was there from 7:30 to about 6:00 this evening...

Fuckin' work...

Dare I tell you I was the last of the Green Thing people to leave? It wouldn't be the first time, don't get me wrong, but if everyone else had SO LITTLE to accomplish that they could arrive at 8 and leave at 4:30, how about a "Hey, need some help? I know you might be a little behind..."

A little of that would go a long way...

I already dread my week-long vacation in August...

Perhaps being Lord of the Dragon Temple isn't all it's cracked up to be...

"I'll Have the Taco Bell, but Without the Hispanics, Please... That's an American Job..."

So...

Illegal immigration...

It seems all anyone can talk about these days, and everyone has a decidedly strong opinion about it, both the native-born, the legal immigrants, and the illegals themselves, of course. A dear friend of mine recently sent around an email which, to nutshell it, said "email your senators to stop amnesty for the illegals--if you disagree with this position, just delete this email."

Of course, most people who know me know that the way to get me to share an opinion is to tell me not to share an opinion...

Not to worry, my friend and I disagree on much, and like everything else in our lives, we will agree to disagree and remain good friends...

I don't know if most Americans can agree to disagree, though...

Recently, while perusing some of the hot sites where the left- and right-wing bash it out, a commenter had this to say in regards to the illegal immigration debate:

---

In other news, 86% of foxes claimed that tightening security at the hen house was "anti-fox" and "troubling," and called on Farmer Bob to consider the dietary needs of the fox community.

---

Cute, I'll admit it. But what is it communicating? That we, as the all-American Farmer Bob's, feel that something precious is being taken from us by the foxes, or illegal immigrants, as the case may be. We feel that we are being taken advantage of, stolen from, robbed of something quintessentially reserved for us, the Americans. We, who have had the luxury of being born here, and even those whom we have conferred "legal" status upon, are being victimized by the illegal immigrants who haven't had the insane luck-of-the-draw, whether by nature's whim or our government's...

And we want to protect it.

Of course, we must begin by asking, "What is being robbed? What is being taken away from the legal residents?" What is it that we, as Americans, must protect against the illegals? A great deal of the arguments put forth sound something like this email I received--so we will deal with this email point-by-point until we get to the root of what is causing this tremendous strain on the current American psyche.

---

Many Americans are outraged by the idea of rewarding criminals by allowing them to keep what they took. While hundreds of thousands of people around the world patiently await permission to come to this country, or go home when their visas expire, illegals decided the rules didn't apply to them. Allowing them to become permanent residents violates our sense of fair play almost as much as it violates our laws. We're assured that they will be at the "back of the line" for citizenship... but that line is supposed to form on the other side of the border.

---

Okay, so we're starting off with a sense of "fairness," a sense of "This is how it works, and it is inherently fair, but you broke through the line, breaking the rules." Which, of course, means we need to take a look at the current policy for getting into our country and becoming a citizen: Is it really fair? Current law in a nutshell is thus:

---

Many legal permanent residents (green card holders) are currently living in the United States, separated from their spouses and children. They are waiting for their I-130 petitions (immigration application for spouse and minor children) to be approved. Statutory numerical limitations on available visas, coupled with immigration backlogs and bureaucratic delays, causes waiting times of 5 years or more. During this long wait, the foreign resident spouse and young children are not allowed to enter the United States, even for a brief visit. The permanent residents, on the other hand, must reside predominantly in the United States and thus the web of US immigration laws ruthlessly separates married couples from each other and from young children. (Source.)

---

So we must ask ourselves--is it inherently fair to make married couples separate for years on end simply to get into the country legally? I think most of us would agree that this system is broken, and needs to be fixed. Does this mean it should be okay to enter illegally? Perhaps not, but if it were you, would you want to live apart from your spouse and children for upwards of five years all the while wondering if it would even come through? To get that close to living the so-called American dream only to find out--five years later--that the system has lost your paperwork, denied your form, or simply already met their quote for Argentine's or Romanian's? I don't think so. Of course, the current bill (which the Senate has refused to pass again) would go along way toward fixing these issues in the waiting lines for legal access, but no one seems to want to talk about that little tidbit. But we're moving on to the next portion of the email.

---

We're unhappy about rewarding criminal behavior.

---

I suppose that's a fair assumption. I mean, who wants to reward a criminal? But what is this reward? Well, ultimately, that nice catchy phrase "a path to citizenship" comes to mind, but it's not an immediate citizenship that's being offered, and no one should mistake that it is in any way an "amnesty" of any kind. The illegal immigrants would have to:

---

Illegal Workers Already Here Must Come Forward And Pay A Fine. In order to obtain a Z visa granting temporary legal status, workers in the country before January 1, 2007, must come forward, pay a $1,000 fine, pass criminal background checks, remain employed, and maintain a clean record.

Z Visa Workers Must Pay An Additional Fine, Learn English, And Meet Other Requirements To Apply For A Green Card, And Cannot Receive One Until Years In The Future. Z visa workers must apply at the back of the line and wait until the current backlog is cleared, pay an additional $4,000 fine, complete accelerated English and civics requirements, maintain employment, leave the U.S. to file their application, and compete in the merit system based on the skills and attributes they will bring to the United States.

Satisfying The Requirements In The Bill Will Take Most Green Card Applicants More Than A Decade.

The bill declares that English is the national language of the United States and calls on the United States Government to preserve and enhance it. (As a side note of my own, you would think conservatives would be all about this bill for this provision alone!) It also enacts accelerated English requirements for many immigrants. In addition, the DHS Office of Citizenship will be expanded to include coordinating assimilation efforts in its mission, and the Secretary of Education will make an English instruction program available for free over the Internet.

---

So how many of you have almost $6,000 sitting around and about 10 years of patience? But we'll call it amnesty, yeah, why not? I know if it were me, I'd still have no chance of becoming legal! How many of us live paycheck-to-paycheck, just trying to make ends meet? Now think of someone here illegally--how in the hell are they supposed to have saved up all that money? Most of them are paid less than minimum wage, seasonally out west, and have an even harder time making ends meet due to their illegal status. They cannot use most social services for fear of being "outed" as illegal, hide in the shadows and hope that this country--the supposed country of opportunity that is as we speak decrying them as evil un-American money-grubbers--will provide their children with a better life than the country they left behind, which had no employment opportunities, towns and cities run by drug lords with permission of the corrupt government, no food or decent water, and no hope of education, work, or a better life... But, yes, expecting them to pay the fines which will enforce the border, expecting them to go home and wait in line behind everyone else already in line, and giving them a chance to grab the dream so many of us have by default--that's amnesty, right, yeah...

But even if we did say, "You know what? That's a small price to pay, it still falls under amnesty." So what? As Ted Kennedy is fond of saying, what are the alternatives? If you seriously believe rounding them all up and shipping them out is a good idea, you're certainly dumber than the tons of crops a lot of illegals pick for us to eat at dinner every day. Not only that, but granting them citizenship will mean they get health benefits, a decent wage for their labor, and contribute even more to our economy, our livelihoods, our culture--which, dare I remind everyone, is nothing more than an amalgamation of several fused together in what was once referred to as "the melting pot" of the world... God forbid we add some salsa to the mix, eh?

Regardless of how you feel, let's continue with the email--as always, you can share your thoughts in the comments section below...

---

We're told that these illegals should be honored because they wanted to become Americans so badly that many of them risked death to come here. (We'll just ignore the fact that money was probably the real motivation for most of them.)

---

I think it is noble that one should so badly want to work for a living and provide for their families that they would risk death to achieve a glimmer of that hope! And so what if "money" is the motivation? When was the last time you fed your family with pretty-colored rocks? The money isn't the goal--the providing for yourself and family is, and money is the vehicle that makes that happen. And where's the money? Yes, in America. What do we expect people to do when we brag about how awesome it is here, yet make people wait upwards of five years APART from their families with a system that's not only broken, but underfunded and under-enforced? If it meant feeding my family, having health care for my family, a JOB, I'd sneak across the border myself!

But, back to the email:

---

But becoming American must include showing some regard for American sovereignty, and American laws. Those who deliberately crossed our borders illegally or overstayed their visas did not show that respect.

---

I think this snippet of an article from TIME magazine speaks about this "argument" best:

---

Google "this is a nation of laws," and you'll find a thousand online Cassandras warning that our failure to prosecute illegals is an invitation to anarchy. They are right about the U.S. being a nation of laws. But our legal system is not a house of cards, one flick away from collapse. U.S. jurisprudence has in fact always been a series of hedged bets, weighing the potential harm of a violation against the costs of enforcement. That's why people get arrested for assault but not for jaywalking. It's time to think seriously about exactly where the act of illegal immigration lies in the spectrum of criminality. Consider the complicity of U.S. employers ranging from multinational corporations to suburbanites looking for gardeners. Factor in the mixed signals that lax law enforcement sent to would-be immigrants throughout the '80s and '90s, and the crime should rank as a misdemeanor, not a felony. Even if we step up border enforcement in the future — as we should — it is true that for a long time, crossing the Rio Grande was akin more to jaywalking than breaking and entering.

Sure, there is a very real national-security threat in having a porous border. But a large — if unquantifiable — percentage of the people crossing that line illegally are not newcomers but rather people who have already established lives in the U.S. and would qualify for amnesty. If they were legalized and free to circulate, we could concentrate on the serious criminals and terrorists crossing the border, not a worker going back to his family.

In Beardstown, amnesty would also help authorities tackle crime. Right now, they spend a lot of their energy sorting out who is who in the community because illegals present local police with a bewildering maze of identities. The illegals of Beardstown work under one name and go to church under another. Parents give their kindergartners fake names to use in school. "We are absolutely unable to identify our own people," says Walters. It sounds counter intuitive, but with immigration, forgiving a crime may be the best way to restore law and order. (Source.)

---

So... have you jay-walked lately? Went over the speed limit? Rolled through a stop sign? You have NO RESPECT for American law and must be DEPORTED! (See how silly that sounds?) Perhaps comparing illegal immigration to jay-walking is a bit of a stretch, but it isn't much of one--most Americans have more stretch in their boxers than the argument itself. Many people break our "sovereign" laws every day--some pay a price, some get a warning, others--well, the courts just say, "You made a mistake, move on," and some don't get caught at all... Has our country fallen yet? No? Hmm... Much like gay marriage hasn't ruined straight marriages around the globe, let alone in Massachusetts, granting citizenship to the millions of illegals here won't ruin the country, the American dream, or your pretty lawns...

Back to the email:

---

Many ILLEGAL IMMIGRANTS falsify records and documents on a daily basis, supply false Social Security numbers to employers, and lie to obtain drivers' licenses, credit cards and other documents.

---

All of which means what? That they are paying into social security, medicare, medicaid, and a host of other social programs. And most of them will never even get a chance to use any of the services they've paid into--because of their illegal status. You may be thinking, "Serves them right," but to me, that's more un-American than someone wanting to come in to work and provide for their family when unable to do so back home... Yes, they get false ID's so they can continue to work. Part of those fines we mentioned earlier will go toward improving the ID system, the border, and the underground identity-theft rings which in part enslave and promote more illegal alien activity...

You also might be interested in a little law passed back in '96 called "IIRAIRA"; it restricts the receipt of most public benefits by all undocumented immigrants as well as many classes of LEGAL immigrants. It's my understanding, and correct me if I'm wrong, that local services are usually paid for out of property tax, sales tax, and income tax. It's my understanding that these types of taxes get paid for by consumers of housing, clothing, food, services, etc. (i.e. people who spend money in the local economy). Kind of hard to avoid those taxes when you have to live, eat, and work at the ol' job site, eh? So I think that working immigrants contribute their fair share for those services as well.

It really all comes down to what's being debated all over the place--"we don't like those strange, short, dark, hairy people who have a million kids, put their last names on their windshields, drive Cutlass Sierras with ugly chrome wheels, playing loud silly music at all hours of the day. They are offensive to our perceived way of life and our perceived notion of what America should be."

Read the fine print ladies and gents, the contract with America didn't say that only Anglo-Saxon, Protestants were welcome, nor did it say that only the native born could get a job at Burger King. It said you are free to make a living. That's what the people who are already here want to do, so let 'em do it already.

Email:

---

Moreover, those hundreds of thousands who marched protesting law enforcement waving Mexican flags and holding signs saying "This is our continent not yours" didn't appear to want to become Americans, did they? Why should we reward them for that?

---

And me waving an Irish flag and a button saying "Kiss Me--I'm Irish" certainly doesn't make me seem more American, does it? So they're proud of their heritage and are rightfully asserting that they were here first--so what? Are you that fearful that California is about to revert to Mexico? Get a reality check, people. California is ours. Sure, I wouldn't call it the best PR move on the part of the protesters, and yes--the whole "we were here first" argument is a moot point... Are you really arguing that they cannot become citizens because of waving a flag that represents their heritage? Maybe I'm not reading enough into it, but maybe you all are reading too much...

Email:

---

We don't like the idea of creating a huge permanent underclass of low-level workers, either.

---

Finally! Something I can agree with! The guest-worker program will create a second-class status of employees, one that isn't fair, isn't right, and isn't in the best interests of anyone. That's why we made laws to protect workers--to prevent abuse by corporations and companies that worship the almighty dollar more than human life... And I was so happy to read about this tidbit with which I agreed that I almost missed the reasoning after it:

---

Once granted legal status, all those people doing "jobs Americans won't do" won't want to do them either -- not at the low wages they're currently paid. They'll want better jobs, with better pay. Prices for agricultural products and construction will rise as employers are forced to pay minimum wage, but that's not the worst effect of a mass legalisation. Competition for available jobs in other areas will rise sharply. Competition for many blue-collar jobs will force wages to dip towards minimum wage level, creating a sharper division between blue-collar and white-collar workers, or lower class and middle class. Unemployment and entitlements will rise, and taxes will follow.

---

So... wait... Now we shouldn't make them legal because they'll get treated respectably? That they'll also be able to have a voice, and speak against an abusive system which mistreats them? Excuse me?? And who was just bitching about the "monetary" motivation of the illegal immigrants? So our taxes may go up--I don't see how that logic works when we've just added all these new tax-payers to the system. And this competition for the blue-collar jobs won't last--you've just said yourself that the new legal workers will demand better pay, better working conditions, better benefits... So how is this bad for blue-collar workers everywhere? The fact is, companies will have to pony up--and yes, some will end up going out of business. Fair markets have a way of shutting down those who can't compete... And if businesses can no longer abuse employees because they can't claim legal status, companies will have to pay more or suffer a shortage of willing legal workers... For once, it would be nice to get one of these forwards that didn't have the blatant hypocrisy and double-talk...

Email:

---

Class warfare and envy politics fueled by racial divisions -- the staples of Democratic campaigns -- will escalate, granting the Democrats a huge vote windfall for many years to come.

---

Does anyone see a politicizing tone entering here? No why, why, why does something tell me a right-winger started this moronic email? Hmm.... Let me see... First, the illegals are nasty workers who take advantage of our system by not playing fair... Then they steal your job, until they become legal, and then they still take your jobs, demand fair treatment, and depress your wages because now they are paid more due to their legal status... And now, it allows the evil Democrats a "windfall" victory... The logic is truly mind-boggling...

Email:

---

The fact that so many Republicans (including the President himself) are willing to sign the death warrant of their own party is amazing.
Many people are unhappy about this bill because of the way members of Congress and the President tried to shove it through the Senate quickly, without time for the bill to be amended before debate.

---

And now we stoop to outright lies... How long has this been languishing, over-ammended, and over-discussed? Too long, which has allowed people to try to take the teeth out of the bill, try to add "punishment" to the bill for the illegals, try to stall actually doing something all to protect the poor Americans just trying to eat their Taco Bell in peace... Please...

Email:

---

The Bill was introduced on Thursday 17 May, and a vote to open debate on the final version was scheduled for Monday 21 June.

---

Oh my god, a whole month!! Perish the thought!! This just speaks of the ignorance so many people have about how this country works...

Email: Blah, blah, blah, skippin the lies... Ah, back to something approaching a modest argument:

---

Thanks to Liberal "multiculturalism," many of those people will never integrate into American society. It's like a home invasion on a massive scale, while the government's response is to tell us we just have to live with our new housemates.

---

Yes, blame the liberals... Don't get me wrong--this whole "multiculturalism" thing has it's failings, but mostly through poor follow-through, not in the general idea in and of itself... But are we really trying to say that trying to appreciate diversity is a reason to deport or reject citizenship for people who, and here's the clincher, come to America and find a way to become citizens? Is "multiculturalism" really to blame for people wanting to come here to work and provide for their families? If you can't see how much of a lame-duck this argument is, you need more help than I could give you.

And, here's another clue: Most of the immigrants, legal or not, assimilate just fine. Like all of the other of millions of immigrants that have come here to live in freedom and prosperity, the first generation has the most difficult time. The children are usually bilingual, and by the time the grandchildren and great grandchildren come along, they can't understand their grandparents' native language--but they can tell you who's on the Top 40, the next movie that's coming out that they're dying to see, and are thinking about all things most dinstinctly American--what they want to be when they grow up, and how best to achieve that dream. Immigrants aren't stupid--they know the way to succeed in America is to learn the language. The issue here isn't whether or not they'll assimilate--it's how long we're willing to wait. The influx is massive right now--many of the immigrants we see are first and second-generation, and therefore scare us with their foreign talk, their foreign diets, their foreign customs, their foreign whatever. And we all know how much people hate change; so the Americans say they should assimilate faster in our on-demand economy, and the immigrants find comfort in their traditions and customs from home as they wade through this new land of new and wonderful opportunities not available at home... They will assimilate, just not as fast as Apple can come out with a new I-dohicky...

Email:

---

And the border fence that was mandated in the Secure Fence Act of 2006 is still not built, which means that in another decade or so, we'll have to go through all of this again.

---

Part of the bill necessitates that the border be secure before the Z visa program takes effect, as well as the fact that all the fines we'll be making them pay as retribution go toward finding new technologies and hiring more border security to keep the border secure. I think it should also be mentioned at this point that there will always be a number of "illegals" in the country--where there's a will, there's a way, you know. And the day we stop having immigrants wanting to be here--there'll be more to worry about than our precious border...

Email:

---

Before we decide what to do about the estimated 12-20 million illegal immigrants in this country, we have got to ensure that it's the last time we have to deal with the problem.

---

Keep dreaming...

Email:

---

Back in 1986, we were told that we would have real border security, in exchange for a one-time amnesty. Well, the politicians got their one-time amnesty. Now, we want our security.

---

Funny... 1986, 1986... Who was president then? Oh, that's rght, the I-can-do-know-wrong, he's-our-god Reagan... One wonders why you never hear about this little "issue" when all the Republican nominees are raising their hands, saying how we need to get back to our "Reagan" values and teach ID in our schools...

"Securing the border," as quasi-safe-sounding as that may seem, won't stop a terrorist from blowing up what he wants to blow up. Does that mean we shouldn't try? Not necessarily, but beefing up security only does so much, only goes so far. Building a wall will not only NOT secure the country, but make you feel more vulnerable when you realize that walls can be knocked down. Then what's next? The computer chips implanted in your brain so nanny government can make you feel "secure" by knowing where everyone is, all the time? You want security? Build yourself a bomb shelter. You want freedom? Deal with the others who want the same thing. You can't have your cake and eat it, too.

What we need to keep in mind is that 99% of the human beings that are coing across our borders want nothing more than an opportuinty to work, provide for the families, and make a better life for themselves. They don't come across the border thinking, "I'll get them all to speak Spanish! You'll see, Paco!" You all act like getting a job is some kind of free lunch program--it's a job and a better life they seek, the same things that Americans seem to want to hoard and prevent others from having. Why do Americans feel that the "American lifestyle" is their exclusive province, and that not everyone should have the opportunity to work and prosper? Why do certain Americans feel that they own so-called "American" jobs? Isn't this the same sense of entitlement that everyone blames these immigrants of having?

Somewhere along the way, we stopped saying "Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, the wretched refuse of your teeming shore; Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me, I lift my lamp beside the golden door!" and started saying, "Wait! I mean, there won't be enough freedom to go around! Send us only your educated, your rocket scientists, and nobody who looks Middle Eastern!" The land of the free is becoming the "land of the elite," and not because of our high ideals...

It's a pretty simple choice really. Work moving bricks around a construction site in Tijuana and get paid $2 a day or do the same work in San Diego for $8 an hour. You tell me which life you want to pick for yourself. 8 bucks a day and social activism on the side to improve the nation? 60 bucks a day and the American apolitical lifestyle with cable TV at night? Tough call, truly...