Wonkette : Republicans Email = Racist Anti-Obama Stuff
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Friday, 5 June 2009
Republicans Email = Racist Anti-Obama Stuff
You know, somedays I just wonder what the hell I am doing living here. Seriously, I don't know what is worse a) that people think nothing of sending racist emails or b) that they are too stupid to know that people who don't agree with them might see them. It's always a banner day when the place you live ends up on one of your favorite blogs in such a flattering way.
Wonkette : Republicans Email = Racist Anti-Obama Stuff
Posted using ShareThis
Wonkette : Republicans Email = Racist Anti-Obama Stuff
Posted using ShareThis
Thursday, 4 June 2009
The Stepford Crack and Tat Police
I spent the afternoon at the Stepford Elementary School. As typically happens, I saw some things that astonished me. I'm always on the lookout for things that will write and I'm never disappointed. I thought I had found today's writing material when one of the PTA Mom's came around the corner in a t-shirt that read "Hate the Sin. Love the Sinner." My second grader said, "MOM! Did you see that shirt???? It said 'HATE'!" Nice. Gotta love that "Christian" attitude.
However, Sally the Sinner Lover didn't take the cake today. As I was photographing my kids on the playground, I spied with my little eyes something very, very wrong. I would describe it, but there are just no words.
Seriously. This lack of self-awareness boggles the mind.
However, Sally the Sinner Lover didn't take the cake today. As I was photographing my kids on the playground, I spied with my little eyes something very, very wrong. I would describe it, but there are just no words.
Seriously. This lack of self-awareness boggles the mind.
Saturday, 30 May 2009
Web Writing For Dummies
I’ve been writing for the Web for almost two years. When I started, I was an idiot. No, no. It’s okay, really, I was. I had no idea how the game was played. I didn’t understand there were rules, characters, roles, and territories. I had no idea that someone, anyone, might care if they disagreed with me. I didn’t understand about lunch tables or sandboxes. I didn’t understand it was, well, so ... high school.
If you’re new to writing for the Web or if you’re thinking about it, here are some types of people of which you might want to be aware:
1. The Drive By: This is the person who will go to the trouble to create a user name, password, and profile for the singular purpose of telling you how badly you suck. The Drive By has never commented on anything on the site before and they never will again. And here’s the best part about The Drive By: there are lots of them. Think I’m exaggerating? Take look around. The next time you’re reading a story that has a really negative comment, click the profile. I know, right? Who knew? Drive Bys used to drive me nuts. Now, I’ve decided that if my writing is so compelling as to move someone to action, I’m not going to complain about it.
2. The Handle: This is the person who chooses a user name as if they are going to chatter on a CB radio from the 1970s. You know, names like Brown-Eyed Girl or Play Misty for Me. “Breaker, breaker 19, I think we’ve got ourselves a Smokey up ahead.” “10-4 Good Buddy.” You know, if it wasn’t a good idea then, perhaps you should consider the possibility that it’s not a good idea now. And just like with CB chatter, most of the time you have no idea what the hell they are talking about. I’m sure it’s just me.
3. The Smokey: Speaking of Smokeys, this is the person who is the peacemaker. They see each side of the argument and insist on telling you so. Smokeys are hard to peg because they agree with whoever is commenting at the time. They are super conciliatory and yes, they drive me freaking nuts. Whenever I encounter a Smokey I can’t help but hear Rodney King’s voice asking, “Can’t we all just get along?” And of course, whenever one of my voices asks a question, I answer. And my answer is always, “No. We can’t. That’s why we are arguing.” Duh. Stop trying to be a fun sponge.
4. The Elmer Gantry: Yes, this person is the evangelist who tries to convert your wayward soul. If you’re an Elmer Gantry and you’re reading this, please don’t bother with me. Really. Really, really. I’m a lost cause and you’re better off moving along to lower hanging fruit. Unless you can walk on water while raising Ronald Reagan from the dead, you’re not going to make me a Republican. You’re better off just leaving my soulless, liberal ass to the Big Guy. He’ll know what to do with me.
This leaves me with my all time, super favorite, can’t live without them, wait for it, wait for it ...
5. The Gum on Your Shoe: Don’t you hate that? You’re flip-flopping your super-cute Yellow Boxes across a hot asphalt parking lot and it happens. Gum. On. Your. Shoe. You can’t get it off. You can scrape it, pull it, walk it through grass, and still it’s there. Goo Be Gone can’t get gum off shoes. You think it will wear off. Nope. You think it will get tired of being stuck to just one pair of shoes. Nope. You think it will get old and fall off. Nope. You think if you ignore it long enough it will go away. Nope. And it’s always on your cutest flip-flops. And such it is with this type of person. They attach themselves to your best writing and forever more, they are with you. After a while, you forget what it’s like to not have them there. I will say this about The Gum on Your Shoe, they are dependable and predictable. They can get an argument started on an otherwise obscure article. They can propel you to infamy and make a cell with padded walls look like a lovely vacation spot. They’re not your friend and don’t love you, but they will never leave you. In the words of the immortal Meat Loaf, “Two outta three ain’t bad.”
If you’re new to writing for the Web or if you’re thinking about it, here are some types of people of which you might want to be aware:
1. The Drive By: This is the person who will go to the trouble to create a user name, password, and profile for the singular purpose of telling you how badly you suck. The Drive By has never commented on anything on the site before and they never will again. And here’s the best part about The Drive By: there are lots of them. Think I’m exaggerating? Take look around. The next time you’re reading a story that has a really negative comment, click the profile. I know, right? Who knew? Drive Bys used to drive me nuts. Now, I’ve decided that if my writing is so compelling as to move someone to action, I’m not going to complain about it.
2. The Handle: This is the person who chooses a user name as if they are going to chatter on a CB radio from the 1970s. You know, names like Brown-Eyed Girl or Play Misty for Me. “Breaker, breaker 19, I think we’ve got ourselves a Smokey up ahead.” “10-4 Good Buddy.” You know, if it wasn’t a good idea then, perhaps you should consider the possibility that it’s not a good idea now. And just like with CB chatter, most of the time you have no idea what the hell they are talking about. I’m sure it’s just me.
3. The Smokey: Speaking of Smokeys, this is the person who is the peacemaker. They see each side of the argument and insist on telling you so. Smokeys are hard to peg because they agree with whoever is commenting at the time. They are super conciliatory and yes, they drive me freaking nuts. Whenever I encounter a Smokey I can’t help but hear Rodney King’s voice asking, “Can’t we all just get along?” And of course, whenever one of my voices asks a question, I answer. And my answer is always, “No. We can’t. That’s why we are arguing.” Duh. Stop trying to be a fun sponge.
4. The Elmer Gantry: Yes, this person is the evangelist who tries to convert your wayward soul. If you’re an Elmer Gantry and you’re reading this, please don’t bother with me. Really. Really, really. I’m a lost cause and you’re better off moving along to lower hanging fruit. Unless you can walk on water while raising Ronald Reagan from the dead, you’re not going to make me a Republican. You’re better off just leaving my soulless, liberal ass to the Big Guy. He’ll know what to do with me.
This leaves me with my all time, super favorite, can’t live without them, wait for it, wait for it ...
5. The Gum on Your Shoe: Don’t you hate that? You’re flip-flopping your super-cute Yellow Boxes across a hot asphalt parking lot and it happens. Gum. On. Your. Shoe. You can’t get it off. You can scrape it, pull it, walk it through grass, and still it’s there. Goo Be Gone can’t get gum off shoes. You think it will wear off. Nope. You think it will get tired of being stuck to just one pair of shoes. Nope. You think it will get old and fall off. Nope. You think if you ignore it long enough it will go away. Nope. And it’s always on your cutest flip-flops. And such it is with this type of person. They attach themselves to your best writing and forever more, they are with you. After a while, you forget what it’s like to not have them there. I will say this about The Gum on Your Shoe, they are dependable and predictable. They can get an argument started on an otherwise obscure article. They can propel you to infamy and make a cell with padded walls look like a lovely vacation spot. They’re not your friend and don’t love you, but they will never leave you. In the words of the immortal Meat Loaf, “Two outta three ain’t bad.”
Friday, 29 May 2009
Celebratory Grief
I received a graduation invitation in the mail last week. This was not surprising. I typically receive two or three invitations this time of year. This is an exciting and anxious time for graduates and their families.
I expect that when my own children graduate I will be overwhelmed with pride and flooded with memories of all that has led up to graduation day. I expect that I will remember the first days of Kindergarten and how I cried as I drove away from the school and away from the tiny, chubby bodies that sat at desks that were still slightly too big for them.
I expect that I will remember my children's first soccer games. I'm positive I will remember muddy soccer cleats, skint knees, sweaty heads, and the sweet taste of seeing my children play so hard. I know I'll remember hundreds of soccer practices as a collage of images all joined and blurred together. I'll remember the game it sleeted, tiny needles pricking my cheeks. I'll remember the game it was one hundred five degrees and I was convinced we all had heat stroke.
I'm sure I'll remember my children's first days of middle school and then high school, although I've yet to have those experiences. I'm sure I'll remember their first loves, first heartbreaks, first dances, first dates, and first cars. I expect that college admission letters are in our future as well as dorm rooms and the sticker shock of college tuition. Weddings? Yes, and grandbabies. I expect all of this. I expect my children to have futures. My vision of how my life will play out from this point forward is woven into and through their lives.
Tonight, my young cousin will graduate from high school. An honor student, member of the golf team, a member of the gifted and talented program. A good kid. My family will celebrate his graduation with dinner at the marina adjacent to one of his favorite places on earth - the lake. After dinner, my family will attend the graduation ceremony at the local community college. When my cousin's name is called, I have no doubt that the entire auditorium will stand and applaud.
And weep.
It will not be my cousin who walks across the stage to receive his diploma. It will be his dad who will accept it on his behalf. My young cousin's body lays in a cemetery that is, ironically, across the street from the community college where the ceremony will take place. His grave will be no more than one hundred yards from the spot where his dad will receive his diploma. I have no doubt that my family will visit the graveside after the ceremony.
Life can be cruel, and heartbreaking, and unfair. I wish I could make this different. I wish I could make it better. I wish I could ease the grief. I cannot do any of these things.
I don't believe bad things happen to good people for the purpose of teaching us lessons. I do, however, believe that lessons can certainly be gleaned from bad things. I'm not sure what lessons will ultimately be revealed to my family by the loss of my cousin. The cruel loss of an only child and only grandchild. The loss of not just a life, but of a family's future. I do know this. On the last day of my cousin's life he boarded a boat. He did not wear a life jacket. At some point he entered the water and drowned. I have no way of knowing if he would have lived had he been wearing a life jacket. I do know he would have at least had a chance. A chance to be rescued. A chance to somehow get himself back into the boat. A chance to be the one receiving his diploma tonight. A chance for a future. A chance to live.
I expect that when my own children graduate I will be overwhelmed with pride and flooded with memories of all that has led up to graduation day. I expect that I will remember the first days of Kindergarten and how I cried as I drove away from the school and away from the tiny, chubby bodies that sat at desks that were still slightly too big for them.
I expect that I will remember my children's first soccer games. I'm positive I will remember muddy soccer cleats, skint knees, sweaty heads, and the sweet taste of seeing my children play so hard. I know I'll remember hundreds of soccer practices as a collage of images all joined and blurred together. I'll remember the game it sleeted, tiny needles pricking my cheeks. I'll remember the game it was one hundred five degrees and I was convinced we all had heat stroke.
I'm sure I'll remember my children's first days of middle school and then high school, although I've yet to have those experiences. I'm sure I'll remember their first loves, first heartbreaks, first dances, first dates, and first cars. I expect that college admission letters are in our future as well as dorm rooms and the sticker shock of college tuition. Weddings? Yes, and grandbabies. I expect all of this. I expect my children to have futures. My vision of how my life will play out from this point forward is woven into and through their lives.
Tonight, my young cousin will graduate from high school. An honor student, member of the golf team, a member of the gifted and talented program. A good kid. My family will celebrate his graduation with dinner at the marina adjacent to one of his favorite places on earth - the lake. After dinner, my family will attend the graduation ceremony at the local community college. When my cousin's name is called, I have no doubt that the entire auditorium will stand and applaud.
And weep.
It will not be my cousin who walks across the stage to receive his diploma. It will be his dad who will accept it on his behalf. My young cousin's body lays in a cemetery that is, ironically, across the street from the community college where the ceremony will take place. His grave will be no more than one hundred yards from the spot where his dad will receive his diploma. I have no doubt that my family will visit the graveside after the ceremony.
Life can be cruel, and heartbreaking, and unfair. I wish I could make this different. I wish I could make it better. I wish I could ease the grief. I cannot do any of these things.
I don't believe bad things happen to good people for the purpose of teaching us lessons. I do, however, believe that lessons can certainly be gleaned from bad things. I'm not sure what lessons will ultimately be revealed to my family by the loss of my cousin. The cruel loss of an only child and only grandchild. The loss of not just a life, but of a family's future. I do know this. On the last day of my cousin's life he boarded a boat. He did not wear a life jacket. At some point he entered the water and drowned. I have no way of knowing if he would have lived had he been wearing a life jacket. I do know he would have at least had a chance. A chance to be rescued. A chance to somehow get himself back into the boat. A chance to be the one receiving his diploma tonight. A chance for a future. A chance to live.
Sunday, 24 May 2009
Seven Reasons I Don't PTA: By Mommy's Space
I invited my friend Tawnia from Mommy's Space to write a PTA piece for my blog. Boy, did she ever deliver. I've long suspected that the PTA is the same in every school. Now I have confirmation that the Stepford PTA is exactly the same as Tawnia's in Washington state. Enjoy - I certainly did! Thanks Tawnia for brightening my day with this.
SEVEN REASONS WHY I DON'T PTA
So it is that time of the month again! No… not Aunt Flow… Even better, its PTA meeting time. (The thought of The Parent Teacher Association does give me cramps, and mood swings though.) They will pressure you to join, beg for your help, gossip about you , and then make you feel bad about yourself for not wanting be in their cult. Gee… sounds great! When can I start?
I have a theory about all those hormonal, two faced women in charge of all things “that are not that important” at my child’s school. I have come to believe that each woman at every PTA across America fits into one of these seven categories; Sleazy, Frumpy, Mopey, Crafty, Bossy, Scared, and Lost. I know sounds familiar doesn’t it! Mirror… mirror on the wall… which is the worst one of them all?
Sleazy: Now this harlot needs no introduction. You can smell her before you see her. She shows up to PTA meetings in thigh high boots and a tube top (so does her 7year old daughter). She could care less about making a difference in her child’s education. She is just hoping to wrap her legs around the principal.
Frumpy: This woman is the opposite of Sleazy! She looks like she belongs at a Star Trek convention. Odd and out of place. She argues her points, asks too many questions, and is intent on changing this school for the better, one PTA meeting at a time!
Mopey: This woman comes to every meeting. She sits in the back, and she never says a word. Nobody ever remembers her name, or who her child is. No one is even sure if she belongs there, or if she just shows up for the free food!
Crafty: Here she comes packing a glue gun, duct tape, construction paper, and stencils. This lady is the MacGyver of the gymnasium. She can make you a photo backdrop for the school dance out of dental floss, toilet paper, and cardboard.. Crafty and Frumpy are almost always best friends!
Bossy: This bitch runs the show. Or at least she acts like she does! She tells everyone what to do, and how to do it. You can spot her because she never shuts-up! She takes this job seriously. She has no home life, and her kids can’t stand her. Oh … and her best friend Sleazy is banging her husband!
Scared: You can find her following Bossy around carrying all her stuff and hanging on every word she says! Scared is a Bossy in the making! She’s just here to make a difference, but all she ever does is all the things Bossy does not want to do. Scared rarely has an opinion or original thought of her own.
Lost: The new girl. She is trying so hard to fit in, no one likes her, and they all talk shit about her. She has no idea what she is doing, or how to do it. She Thinks Sleazy is pretty, Frumpy is smart, Crafty is amazing, she never notices Mopey, Bossy is her idol, and she is waiting for Scared to quit so she can take her job following Bossy around!
Ladies give it up! You are a joke to the education system! The principal barely tolerates you (except you Sleazy he is waiting for you in his office), the teachers hate you, and the other parents are tired of you! You are not helping improve your child’s education by talking bad about each other, fighting for a new school mascot, and decorating for the holidays. Just go home and parent your kids!
SEVEN REASONS WHY I DON'T PTA
So it is that time of the month again! No… not Aunt Flow… Even better, its PTA meeting time. (The thought of The Parent Teacher Association does give me cramps, and mood swings though.) They will pressure you to join, beg for your help, gossip about you , and then make you feel bad about yourself for not wanting be in their cult. Gee… sounds great! When can I start?
I have a theory about all those hormonal, two faced women in charge of all things “that are not that important” at my child’s school. I have come to believe that each woman at every PTA across America fits into one of these seven categories; Sleazy, Frumpy, Mopey, Crafty, Bossy, Scared, and Lost. I know sounds familiar doesn’t it! Mirror… mirror on the wall… which is the worst one of them all?
Sleazy: Now this harlot needs no introduction. You can smell her before you see her. She shows up to PTA meetings in thigh high boots and a tube top (so does her 7year old daughter). She could care less about making a difference in her child’s education. She is just hoping to wrap her legs around the principal.
Frumpy: This woman is the opposite of Sleazy! She looks like she belongs at a Star Trek convention. Odd and out of place. She argues her points, asks too many questions, and is intent on changing this school for the better, one PTA meeting at a time!
Mopey: This woman comes to every meeting. She sits in the back, and she never says a word. Nobody ever remembers her name, or who her child is. No one is even sure if she belongs there, or if she just shows up for the free food!
Crafty: Here she comes packing a glue gun, duct tape, construction paper, and stencils. This lady is the MacGyver of the gymnasium. She can make you a photo backdrop for the school dance out of dental floss, toilet paper, and cardboard.. Crafty and Frumpy are almost always best friends!
Bossy: This bitch runs the show. Or at least she acts like she does! She tells everyone what to do, and how to do it. You can spot her because she never shuts-up! She takes this job seriously. She has no home life, and her kids can’t stand her. Oh … and her best friend Sleazy is banging her husband!
Scared: You can find her following Bossy around carrying all her stuff and hanging on every word she says! Scared is a Bossy in the making! She’s just here to make a difference, but all she ever does is all the things Bossy does not want to do. Scared rarely has an opinion or original thought of her own.
Lost: The new girl. She is trying so hard to fit in, no one likes her, and they all talk shit about her. She has no idea what she is doing, or how to do it. She Thinks Sleazy is pretty, Frumpy is smart, Crafty is amazing, she never notices Mopey, Bossy is her idol, and she is waiting for Scared to quit so she can take her job following Bossy around!
Ladies give it up! You are a joke to the education system! The principal barely tolerates you (except you Sleazy he is waiting for you in his office), the teachers hate you, and the other parents are tired of you! You are not helping improve your child’s education by talking bad about each other, fighting for a new school mascot, and decorating for the holidays. Just go home and parent your kids!
Wednesday, 20 May 2009
John Stewart
I'm not sure what I did at 10pm before there was John Stewart, but I'm sure it was not nearly as fun as watching him each night.
| The Daily Show With Jon Stewart | M - Th 11p / 10c | |||
| Republicans Look Forward & James Harrison | ||||
| ||||
Saturday, 16 May 2009
A Little Balance
Okay, after yesterday's Glenn (the nutcase) Beck's video I feel the need to post something of substance and importance. The is the Gen WE Declaration. If you've not seen it, please watch it. If you've seen it, please watch it again. It is important.
Love,
Love,
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