A Life Cut Short

There is much to be made of Dr. Tiller's death and many will do so far more stridently or sagaciously than I. Murder of an adult is sometimes acerbically dubbed as a very, very late term abortion. But in all gravity, murder really is an abortion: a cutting short of an assigned span of being. Murder is not an illness or disease, it's a choice and an action that is employed by one against another for any number of reasons, none of them good. It is the ultimate working of one's will against that of another; god-like in its demand and finality. That's why it is wicked.

It's also quite wicked and sad to send a man to his Maker before he has had the Grace of his allotted years. But mostly, it is very wicked to not even give a man a chance to survey his soul in the face of his mortal end, perchance to repent and be healed.

Dr. Tiller's death shall be made into what his former life choices now dictate for his memory, and he will become a touchstone for some, a tipping point for others, and a martyr for a misguided "right". Perhaps you might think it strange that, loathsome as I find his life deeds to have been, I shall pray for a better Grace, a better Judge to have mercy on his soul.

Heaven and Hell

Heaven is a place where the police are English; the chefs are Italian; the car mechanics are German; the lovers are French and it's all organized by the Swiss.

Hell is a place where the police are German; the chefs are English; the car mechanics are French; the lovers are Swiss and it's all organized by the Italians.

-Unattributed.

Decompression Slack

Oh, you'll thank me some day. For now, curse the Slacker that invented this bit of mental bubble gum.

Dubious "thanks" to Jonah Goldberg!

Sex Education

Discuss:

Not Made For Twitter

LeeAnn is lamenting her Twitter creds and I'm right there with her-- although I think she is overly modest about her formidable command of teh funny. 140 characters is so restrictive.

However, I've just seen a little young woman who is not made for Twtter either, and possibly not for this planet. I'm not sure what to think of her communication skills. I think it's the future of Twitter-pated kids: a direct download of the Torrent.

Go over to Sparrow's place and just see for yourself. Holy cow, I feel sorry for her family! Too funny.

Obama Calls For Memorial Day to become Apology Day

Although he has not formally announced it, our current CIC stands athwart all the graves of honor and selfless courage to count it as aught but misguided Imperialism and something for which our nation must apologize.

Now, my courage is small in the face of real danger. I am but a woman, weakened by my sexual inheritance, but let me make my words as large as my heart, my hopes, and my dreams for my country can muster: If Obama cannot soon see the ruinous ends of his wretched philosophy left unchecked, if God does not soon shed his Grace on our President and give him eyes to see ALL of his countrymen, if Obama cannot soon humble himself enough to hear opposing and honorable viewpoints, then he has ceded any right to be called anything but a two-bit Chicago power-monger. But then, I called him that right out of the gate.

I would be hard-pressed to allow such an entity to assume any particualrs of place and station to confer "honors" upon our sacred fallen soldiers. Better that he demur the singular honor of bringing the laurels of his office to the graves of better men than he has ever imagined in his insular, assumptive, propped-up self regard.

On this day of all days in our Republic, when I would naturally defer to the honorably departed and their families to remind us of our Duty to give all in the service of Freedom, I will not hold back.

I will suffer the approbation and calls for belaying my grievances for a better day. What better day than today, even as our elected leaders effectively spit on the sacrifices that brought them to their haughty presumptions of peace? Peace. As though Obama had won his place honorably by sheer dint of mental prowess and high-flown Idealism. No, he occupies an office he stole through duplicity and thuggery. I may respect the Idea of the Office of the President, but I can yield no more allegiance to it than I could any pirated ship of state that presumes to fly a friendly flag only to be found full of cutpurses and buggerers.

Can we let one man, one party, one election undo the decades of historic honor and duty, and render it a shame to be repented of? I understand the need for closure, ritual, rememberance. I do not wish to tread on such for my own sense of outrage. But what are we remembering, who are we honoring, and why? Will not one family, one spouse, one son, one father send back a retort worthy of the sacrifice they mourn-- and reject the dishonored conference of honors from this President?

I may need guidance here, but how could I watch my brother in battle fall, only to hear my Commander in Chief shout across the battle lines, "Sorry! Sorry! Don't shoot at us any more! Our bad!" And then, allow such treachery to confer honor on a shattered life?

Happy Memorial Day?

I don't think so.

****

Now, go read something more worthy of the day.

Just one paragraph in, and all is right again.

.

Every neighborhood needs a Crabby Old Fart

Fight it all you want, but in your futile quest for eternal youth, you'll still end up like this:

If I had ever slouched around my house, my old mom would have beaten me senselessness with a lemon reamer and then locked me the root cellar to think about the error of my ways.

But these young people today, they’re all hunched over like teenaged Quasimodos with ill-fitting trousers and size 14 high tops. It’s disrespectful, disgraceful and un-American.

They drag themselves down the street with their concave backs, warped morals and damned superior attitudes. It’s like someone has removed their spines and replaced them with red liquorice and arrogance.

Now that's the way to Curmudgeon Heaven! Book-worthy stuff. I can't remember who pointed me to The Crabby Old Fart, but thanks!

I'd rather have a wounded bear in my living room. . .

. . .than have a sick man around the house.

Sweet Baby James but he's grumpy! Percocet, Valium, muscle relaxers are his friends now. He had C-4 through C-7 cervical vertebrae cracked open and hinged to make room for his poor zig-zagged spinal cord. He states that already the ache and numbness in his hand has subsided! Yeah!

BTW, How cool is it to have someone come into the pre-op area, introduce herself as the guardian of your spinal cord? Think about that. "Hi, I'm Elena, and I'm going to be watching out for your spinal cord during the 3-hour operation." Effin' A! Even on your best day you don't have someone who literally, "has your back" in that way. heh.

Thanks to each and every one of you who prayed and offered your best thoughts on his behalf. He seems to be recovering quickly, is home and in la-la land. It could be worse.

And raspberries to the jerk headed south on I-95 this morning at 6:00. Three lanes, no other cars in sight and you had to ride up on my bumper like we were some sorta figure-skating duo. Go back to New Jersey. You had no idea you were messing with a woman who slept on a hospital cot last night. How'd you like that little "coasting" trick I pulled on you? Punk-asshole.

Wherein the Jolly Roger gets a knife in the neck.

10:30 a.m. on Friday, EST, peeps. I'm not sure if he'll be able to play the violin afterward, but the hope is that he'll be out of pain soon. Then I'll take him to the seaside to heal up.

BTW, it's official, the Pepper Dog loves the RV! Sits on the middle console and directs things from there.

Laters. . .

The Tingler!

Man, if you're old enough to remember that, you'll be sympathetic when I tell you that traveling plans have been put on hold until the J. R.'s spinal surgery and recovery. Eeek!

It's All Mine. . .

Time to take this blog on the road. Ain't she a beaut? Almost perfect. Like me! *coff!*

I hope the Pepper Dog likes it!

Icarus Ascending

Vainglorious and puny humans! How dare you aspire to the Heavens?

Godspeed, all the same. What an awesome, just awesome picture.

Obama's Constitutional Logistics, Inc.

When you absolutely, positively, must make everyone else pay for your inability to understand the directions as written:

Something the RNC can agree on! At last!

November 17th repost, in light of RCP's post by Jay Cost, calling for Steele to step down. I don't disagree a bit with the resignation, but I'm not sure Mr. Post's proffered advice fits my mood, which is loathe to hear one more call for moderation:

Dear RNC: Our Troops Know More About "Hearts & Minds" Than You Ever Will

Warning: Vile, disjointed Rant with a Point, I swear!, follows:

I'm no war strategist, but I can plainly see what's working in Iraq. The Iraqis had a many-headed hydra living in their midst and our troops cut it out, one by one and met it with a winning strategy: Nothing succeeds like success.

They met like with like and then went one better and put our money where our mouth is. They rebuilt, educated and retrained a populace decimated by generations of shameful thuggery, genocide, and new insurgents bent on even more destruction. They walked a razor's edge of political diplomacy while sinking .50 caliber rounds into the gaudy palaces and gruesome henchmen of Hussein.

You know, our troops don't especially like being characterized to your children in the public school system as murderers and warmongers, gonzos with guns, or belly-scratchers with bazookas. But they don't let it get in the way of their mission. But, one MSMedia whisper about incompetence, one more Hollywood throwaway line about Republican idiocy, and our GOP leaders start waffling on virtues and looking for someone to love them for who they aren't.

Our valiant troops keep sleeping in the dirt, when they can sleep, eating a shit sandwich (with extra sand) every day, taking the hits, losing friends to bullets and losing friends to specious propaganda-- and they never lose sight of their mission: to WIN the hearts and minds of the Iraqi people. Anything less means they'll have spent their blood for nothing.

The GOP wants to present itself as ...well, what? It doesn't matter. The Left has divided its own strengths among many fronts and has corralled the diverse and vibrant populace of Republicans into a box canyon where they can just nuke the entirety of the conglomeration with one shot, doesn't really matter which: Idiots! Hypocrites! Heartless!

Our troops in Iraq know more about asymetrical warfare against the many fronts of self-interests, desperados and idealogues than the GOP has had time to contemplate. Our troops have to work side-by-side with people of another faith, and realize they can still trust them to have their back. They have to win the hearts of a people who seemingly believe in ancient fairy tales, but are smart enough to see the advantages of freedom. I don't think they can win them over by blaming their problems on their "superstitions". Conversely many Republicans here are now lashing out at religious members for making them look stupid. Well no, Christians don't make the Pubbies look stupid. The way the GOP has failed to understand the makeup of most Christians and most Conservatives leads me to think they are too stupidly unqualified to lead any group that wants to include both.

Our amazing troops have many divisions squadrons, and units, each specializing in unique aspects of the operations in Iraq. The ground forces cannot discount the technical support and the strategists cannot dismiss the intelligence gatherers on the streets of combat just because they don't have a college degree. The GOP's biggest weakness is its vanity amongst the tuxedo set in DC and the tweed set in the Ivy League campuses. These RNC leaders are doomed to take it in the ass and not even get a reacharound. Our troops would never settle for such hollow victories of vanity, not when there's blood on the ground.

Moreover, no matter what a troop believes, they still want a chaplain to pray over their dead, to beseech blessing, to ask forgiveness, to minister healing. Big, brave men and women in touch with and unashamed of their need for something intangible. There may be atheists in foxholes, but I imagine even they do not begrudge a religious solace in such extremities. But the GOP has quietly begun to shun the media- projected idea of how the "Bible Thumpers" make them look. They make them look unenlightened.

And we can't look unenlightened while the Titanic sinks, can we? We can't lose our precious sense of Self. Why, we're Rugged Individualists who don't want to be tread on! Please, that deck chair is out of place and is harshing my political mellow. Could you please just ... remove it? There's a good chap!

The GOP leadership really is stocked with idiots and short-cutters and politically expedient whores who have no more an idea of how to save the Ship of State than how to field dress a moose.

And Mr. Steele sounds like Obama, lots of flowery prose and no real ideas with feet on them.

Our troops will be returning home soon. I'd nominate almost any 20 year-old Logistics Specialist with 18 months' experience on the ground in Iraq to be my next local, state or a national executive before I'll vote for a stupid overfed, vain Party Faithful. Such a kid would know in practicality what Republicans have rejected ever since Reagan: that hard work and hard cash on the street wins the day.

The Iraqis were in a state of political and economic decay. It was expedient to some that Iraq stay that way and that's where the force was necessary. (Don't think the Dems are opposed to force, btw.) But the morale and spirit of the Iraqis had to be preserved and nurtured.

Our military leaders know that you put money on the street in the form of renewal. So where was the GOP funding for street-level lawyers to come in and fight for Small Business being swallowed up by Federal legislation? Why have they been giving our money to the indolent and willfully stupid while forcing Republican families to sacrifice their kids on the altar of public education and child care? Why are we funding any sort of state-sponsored research when we say we believe in the power of the market? Why isn't the GOP funding kids' programs to run on PBS? Where was GOP grant money for smart young minds to be training young kids with dreams of creating something useful and exciting? Why isn't somebody insisting on Math instead of statistics?

And why are the middle class treated as social pariahs by the GOP Godhead, and left to spend their last farthing defending themselves from onerous tax codes, health plan rules, and politically correct quotas? Where are GOP-funded repositories of lawyers who will work for land rights and fair values, a sacred tenet of freedom? Where is the GOP money for Idealism outside of the box? Why, its all out there defending CEOs who abscond the last of widows' 401ks, and make calls on vaporous debt leverage.

Fuck 'em all.

Look, we won in Iraq without overwhelming the population with immigrants or new babies. We did it with Community Organizers--With Guns and Money. Long before the opposition quit with the bullets and bombs we started throwing more money at the street level than the government-sponsored insurgents could match. It's not old-fashioned, direct-opposition warfare anymore, people. Wake up.

Obama beat us with Community Organizers and more money at the street level than the GOP is prepared to spend, and more than the average working Joe can counter with time and effort. Now the winning Dems only fear the guns we rightfully possess, else why the need for a domestic "security" force? Even now, they know not to let up. The heel is not yet uncomfortable on our throats but have no doubt that that is their goal. That's what winning looks like. Heels on throats. Confiscation. Punishment and rule.

I never want it to come to that.

But I will eat sandy shit sandwiches, lose sleep, lose friends, and spend my last dime before I'll resort to violent offensives. If I have to meet unasked for violence with violence, so be it. Depend on it. But this is not a call for anarchy or offense. It is a cry for real leadership.

I'd rather my political leaders understood the times we live in. We have one hope of herding the cats that are the Republicans: Either we all do our part and swallow a bit of Self to work together, or we tribalize and work to create a consensus of the Least Common Denominator that we can all agree on without losing our precious sense of Individualism and smug vanities. Either way, pick three or four abiding Truths and work for them and not against each other.

Seriously, I hope we can one day elect one of our newer military leaders to office. Talk about an executive under fire from all sides: cut budgets, upgrade, protect assets, regroup, retool, rethink, plan the logistics, diplomatically please all, shut out the Media noise, and relentlessly pursue victory.

Yeah. My grandmama wants to fly jets. You wanna lead the RNC? Show me you got what it takes.

Rock the Cradle, Rock the World

Ladies, isn't it awesome to stand athwart the march of madness and point to the exits? You do it every day that you display a self-confidence that refuses to allow your kids to blackmail your affections with disingenuous manipulations. You know what I'm talking about. The pout, the brokering, the negotiations and threats of withholding their sweeter attentions. So tender in their early years do they learn to say, "I don't like you!!"

You were never taken aback by such devilish tricks, because you never bought into the, "children are born pure" fantasy. They're born with all of the features and genetic codes that run amok in your own life and knowing that alone should harden your forehead like flint against the little psy-ops agents in your own home.

It's all an attempt to make life about them. It doesn't help that all their teachers and television entertainments reinforce the notion.

God bless each and every one of you who quashed that mistaken notion with a hard head, soft humor and unassailable confidence in the long view. . . the vision of your kids being strong in the face of life's pouts, brokerings, negotiations and tendency to treat one unkindly. Dame Margaret Thatcher must have had such a mom:

Happy Mother's Day!

h/t to the Innocent Bystanders.

I don't think that's the correct definition of a "dog leg"

Doggie drama in the house last night. Pepper was sooooo glad to see me after I'd been gone all day that she began a howling -- oh! and let me interject that she has finally learned how to bark -- hucklebutt run around the living room, jumping onto the couch and into the recliner where she turned too quickly to jump and run again. The short version is, she caught her front left paw in the chair as she turned to the right and tumbled to the ground while her paw remained in the crease of the arm of the chair.

Kill.Me.Now. but how she cried and howled with pain, laying on her side with her front leg at an unusual angle out to the side. I ran for the phone and the J.R. stayed with her while she continued howling and crying. I'm crying and trying to talk to the vet's assistant and prepare to take her for an emergency visit. Argghh!!!!

I hung up and ran back to the living room where we had all been so happy and laughing and now we were all pretty miserable, but the J.R. noticed that her leg/shoulder had popped back into place and she was whimpering softly and trying to get up. We held our breath as she limped horribly about, but wagging her tail, still happy to see me. Dogs. Just, . . .wow.

We canceled the vet visit as I still had some muscle relaxers and anti-inflams for her. Can you say happy puppy? She was zoned out for hours. She's still a bit sore today, but putting weight on it gingerly and being all happy and decidedly okay. One more dose of anti inflams this morning seemed to help. I'm keeping her activity limited for another day, just to be sure.

For me, I fell into bed last night exhausted from the emotion and adrenaline and woke up as sore as if I had been beaten up.

Still, it's nice to see that Pepper Dog smile.

You're not from around here, are ya?

The post I've been avoiding for years, but dammit, it's time somebody said it like it is.

Way too many "immigrants" here in Florida are just ruining the place. They don't like our food, the way we talk, the way we drive, or how we dress. They hate everything about Florida but insist on living here and turning it into the paradise that was their homeland. . . and if they miss it so much why don't they feckkin' return there?

What? Oh! You thought. . .! No, no. I'm referring to folks from New Jersey, (with the major exception of Jimbo and Suzette . Suzette is from NJ I think, but then if you're north of the M-D Line you might as well be in Canada for all I care. But I know there are other good blogging peeps there. Just stay put, okay?) and a whole lot of others who have remained in Jersey. God bless the faithful holdouts up there. As I am fond of saying, and as Elisson recently quoted from FOTR, "God bless the Jerseyites, and keep them far from us!"

I am a Regionalist! So sue me.

Here in Florida we are inundated with folks who moved down here to live out their wet dreams of rolling the yokels for cash while they can, and to buy two Mediterranean-style houses for the selling price of their "charming cottage" in Jersey. Which are now up for foreclosure.

They really do hate Floridians; the heat, humidity, bugs, and all things Gator. And yet, they refuse to leave until they have told each and every native exactly what they think of them.

Ugly Americans? We're up to our elbows in 'em.

By and large, the majority of NJ transplants are the most unhappy people I've ever met. They are rude without even thinking about it; loud and uncouth, and love pointing out obvious things about your physique at full volume, reading signs out loud, and explaining even the lamest jokes to anyone around them; as though we genteel inbreds can't understand the nuance of innuendo. No such thing as TMI, either. Yeesh. Folks, I've lived here all my life. I'm not making this shit up. It's Seinfeldian in its surreality.

This chip-on-the-shoulder brashness extends into the farthest reaches of the northeastern environs of their home towns, too. That wannabe attitude eats them up, providing fresh fodder for British reality shows about food and hair, and sets them up perfectly for a mean-spirited put down by Stacy and Clinton telling them (and all of us) What Not to Wear (screechin' fashionista fascists).

So their put-upon Self goes seeking something they deem Lesser Than They-- and off they go to Florida.

Oh, they love how we smile when we ask them in our lazy, back-bred drawl, "mo tea, suh?" but they'll give us no end of shit about absolutely anything they know nothing about. Look in the dictionary under "assume" and you'll see a map of New Jersey.

Hell, I'd bet that Dogette's obnoxious semi-nude, bathrobe wearing, gold chain-sporting, trespassing, golf cart racing nabes are likely from NJ. Do I know this for a fact? Only by the circumstantial evidence. No Floridian jury would convict me of slander, even so. NJ transplants are totally unaccustomed to the idea of privacy and decorum, or even good taste. They do everything out loud and in the open, including broadcasted marital disputes; as though our spacious neighborhoods were actually a crowded tenament where the drama-starved can troll for gossip. Damn gossiping tenement dwellers.

Afterthought: It's a wonder Dogette's nabes haven't placed religious statuary in their yard yet, but the millennium is still fresh. Wait and see.

Meanwhile, we'll just go right on secretly spittin' into that tall glass of iced tea and then wink and smile and set it down in front of you. Er. . . ya'll.

So Sorry to Burst Your Bubble

I am consumed with hatred for BUBBLES!! They must be obliterated!! (That oughta be enough keywords for the fascists to come knocking!) *ahem*

Behold, the Mesmerizer Most Awe-ful.

I'll never make it to Oregon this summer if I keep playing this. yah. Thank me later.

A Perfect Storm of Stupid

Turn up the speakers, because the song is half the fun!

Obama Thuggery Allegation Gets a Second Witness

Via HotAir:

One participant in negotiations said that the administration’s tactic was to present what one described as a “madman theory of the presidency” in which the President is someone to be feared because he was willing to do anything to get his way. The person said this threat was taken very seriously by his firm.

Nice to know that my first knee-jerk, and almost visceral objection to his shoe-in nomination was the fact that he's a (cover your ears) Fuckin' Chicago Politician.

It was enough of a reason over a year ago and looks to be standing the test of time as he's proving to be more of a thug than an idealist. That's small comfort.

Against that, dear Mr. Steele, you are prepared to fight? Your washed-up and warmed-over seconds and politically hackneyed phrases up against coordinated thuggery by your government and Media? Good luck with that. Day by day, the Republican Party proves its feckless unworthiness to its constituency. That makes me madder than anything Obama does.

Moderation is overrated. Someone please find the jumper cables and yell, clear!

We have better hope of raising the Reagan Zombies up from the dead than resurrecting the Republican Party.

On Playing With the Rough Boys

I don't count it as a bad thing, but sometimes in male social circles, the talk turns them into "rough boys" when assembled in numbers larger than two. I'm never quite sure when the friendly banter is turning into a derogatory view of the Womanhood represented in the room but it will certainly involve ever-cruder references. As women readers well know, you have to put up with a certain amount of rough language when you have entered the verbal Den of Men willingly and they have in gracious turn welcomed you with warmth and good humor. But it will almost certainly move into the slightly alarming, over-the-line-but-we're-all-still-laughing moment. A demure smile, an apologetic excuse and a swift exit are your immediate best allies. To stay a moment longer is to open oneself to dismay at the sheer animal nature of your heretofore harmless bloggers.

Now Cassandra is a woman of fine words and taste, whose writing I enjoy. I am sure she would find me a bit unrefined but hey, I'm a pirate, not a frilly filly with muh thigh-highs and garters a'glarin'. But she's stirred up a kerfuffle with RSMcCain because she walked into a decidedly after-work cigar den of man-talk about boobies and women and politics and said basically, "Oh dear! How rude and unbecoming!"

And you know what? She's right. Except, as Rude and Unbecoming it may have been, it was never presented as a serious political or serious social Ideal. It was boys being boys.

When you find yourself in the Man Cave, you can wade in and trade verbal fisticuffs if you feel up to it, but the Rule is, you have to accept the premise-- in this case it was boobies and the women who pay for them-- not criticize the morality of the premise. Their Cave, their Rules.

It's just rough talk, over-the-top and decidedly a bit of a self-parody. If one had just dropped into the Blogospheric universe, the dismay would be understandable-- pull said bloggeress aside and say, "It's an Ace o'Spades dealio, like Paul Anka, too much to explain. Go catch up and get back to us."

So you can quietly tip toe back out and close the door behind you. But you simply cannot be all aghast and start scolding. Because they will absolutely make you their new target.

And from there, it has devolved into overly-serious and boring boilerplate platitudes from all involved and . . . poof! The fun is taken out of it. Well, actually, I get the idea that McCain is still having tons of fun. Heh.

Would Conservatism be better served without the rude nonsense? I think that's a legitimate discussion. I think certain lines could be toed a bit more genuinely. But, like the teacher that keeps blinking the lights in an effort to get over-excited kids to be quiet, it's pretty fruitless to scold Cave Men when The Most Awesome Subject In The World is being discussed.

I Resisted As Long As I Could

Curiosity got the better of me. I truly dislike Letterman, but the dog is a winner!

Kids. If You Nag Them Enough, They Turn Out Like This!

Would you let this young man prepare your supper? Charleston's best restaurant will.

Here's his mild-mannered imposter:

Charleston, famous for its restaurants, has been a great place for his career. I can barely remember when he used to write popular php code, back when he was just a baby. Yes, he's a real Renaissance man of letters and languages; brainiac, artist, writer, musician, chef. And he wisely marred a woman even smarter. That's real talent!

The "These People Vote" Department: simple physics division

Darlings, it's not been quite so long since I went to high school that I should forget how my coffee stays in the mug, but these are college students !

These were college students in Wisconsin during the 80's. All their brain cells were in their hair, apparently.

Good for a grim smile.

TJIC is chock full o' some of the most interesting snippets -- and good commentary -- on the Intertubes.

Oh, and Milk's Wall o' Shame will take care of the rest of your day at work. Thank me later.