I Love My Child-Beating Mother

My mom was 4'9" of pure Sicilian temper when I was a kid. Growing up, me and my brother learned real fast how to dodge flying spiked heels, how quickly you would have to dart left to avoid a solid silver belt buckle to the ass or head, how far under your bed you would have to slide in order to get beyond the reach of her three inch nail claws...yeah, we learned a lot of things during our formative years.


My upbringing was definitely based on a lot of the 1950's corporal punishment beliefs, and then a tad beyond. My mom believed that children were disciplined by the rod, and top that off with a healthy dose of her violent and unpredictable temper, we were kids that knew what a damn good old fashioned beatin' felt like. For example:


I complained once, when I was about seven, that the water my mom was washing my hair with was too hot. Her response was it's not too hot, and to prove her point, she smashed my face into the porcelain sink, shoving my two bottom teeth straight through my lower lip. I bled for about an hour. She apologized when she tucked me in.


If I did something particularly bad, like not put my school clothes away when I got home, she would strip me naked and drag me by my hair throughout our carpeted apartment, leaving rug burns down my back, butt and legs. She apologized when she tucked me in.


If I mouthed off and said I wasn't going to bed at 8:00, I was staying up to watch the Muppet Show and go to bed at 8:30, she would grab a large kitchen utensil or small (thankfully) frying pan and give me a few good whacks on the back. She showed me who was boss! She apologized when she tucked me in.


If I didn't like the way she was doing my hair (you remember those pigtails your mom would do to make it look like you had just had a major face lift?), she would pull out a chunk of my hair and tell me I should be thankful to have such gorgeous blonde hair, and how would I like it if it were all gone? She apologized when she tucked me in.


If I spilled something in the kitchen, and didn't clean it up before she noticed, she would grab my arm, pull it around my back, pin me to the floor and give me some real good wallops with a leather strap, or broomstick (whichever was closer) on my backside. If the spill was really messy, I was told to sit on on the radiator with a welted ass for an hour. She apologized when she tucked me in.


You may be scratching your head going, wait a minute...you have written before about your outstanding childhood, where the fuck is this coming from? I did have a great childhood, and I did also suffer a lot of pain at my mother's hand. The two are not mutually exclusive. My mom, aside from her absolute insanity that could pop up at any given moment, was a great mom. She put our needs ahead of her own, she made sure we were fed, clothed, and had plenty of fun things to do all the time. She read to me, she took me shopping for dresses, she colored with me on rainy days, she made me sundaes, she let me help her cook, she got me music lessons, she did as much as she could.


Still confused? I'll explain. My mom had a really shitty childhood. Her father was a supreme female-hating bastard. I firmly believe he is rotting in hell as I write this. He wanted everything in the world done for him and handed to him on a silver platter. He demanded that his wife and children be completely subservient to him at all times. They were there simply to make his life more comfortable. He would always have a hot meal, clean clothes, and beer in the fridge. He beat the shit out of my grandmother, my mother, and her two sisters as often as he felt the need to do so. He was also a big believer in corporal punishment as the ultimate form of discipline. My mom and her sisters never had a chance.


My mom grew up to be the abuser to her own husband and children. My one aunt ended up pregnant at 15 by a psychopath that she soon married, and he went on to kill their first born child. She was institutionalized several times, and reared six children who have all understood what electro-shock therapy is all about. Two of those children are still in psychiatric hospitals because they have both tried to murder my aunt in her sleep. My other aunt became a pathological liar and petty thief/con-artist. She was married for about six months before she accepted that she could never consummate the marriage or have any type of a normal relationship with a man.


Starting to get the picture of what my mom was up against?


For a long time, during my teen years and early 20's, I had a very violent temper. Small things would set me off and I literally felt like a time bomb. When I got angry, it was like my entire body would go red-hot. I would shake and tremble and I would start to see double. I even salivated a few times. Wasn't pretty, and not a fun fact to share with the world. But there it was, I was one violent chick. I wouldn't know what to do with myself, so I would demolish things. I would smash up my room, break down doors, punch holes into the walls...even took a sledge hammer to my own car. I came to realize that this was not going to be a way for me to live. I knew that I never wanted to be like my violent mother. When her temper was set off, there was no stopping it. It was becoming the same for me, and it scared me half to death. I didn't want to be the person that had no control over their own emotions, or the person that would one day beat the hell out of her own kids. That cycle had gone on long enough. So I changed. I decided then and there that my temper was not going to rule me like it had my grandfather, and then my mother. As time went on, my temper began to subside, and I began to find other ways to deal with my anger and aggression.


I know, you are still scratching your head.


Friends have asked me why I love my mother so much now, why it doesn't piss me off that she did the horrible things that she did. It's because I forgive her. It's because I don't want to hate my mother, and I sure as hell don't want to blame her for the rest of my life for the things that I have, or will do, wrong.
Yes, my mother had this one horrible part of her personality, her violent temper. That doesn't block out everything else she was. I can remember how she was then almost as two separate people. The loving mom who would stroke my head to help me fall asleep after a bad dream, the mom who would say she was taking me for ice cream and surprise! We would end up at the amusement park instead! The mom who helped me every day with my homework. The mom who taught me how to be a good person. Then, of course, there was the mom who you had to outrun because she had a huge-ass metal spatula, and she knew how to use it!!


Just a few years ago, my mother had heard my brother say something about spanking his young son for something he had done. She went nuts. "Don't you EVER lay a hand on that boy! You NEVER HIT CHILDREN!" I stood there, motionless, jaw dropped to the floor. I finally was able to speak and said "what the FUCK are YOU talking about?" She looked at me like I had an unborn fetus growing out of my head.


"Mom", I said, "You used to beat me and my brother like gold would shoot out of our asses if you hit us enough."


My mother burst into tears. "How could you say such an awful thing?! I never laid a hand on you kids!! What's wrong with you?!"


I continued to stand there, stymied by her unexpected response. I went home and called my father and asked him if I had imagined my years of abuse. Was something wrong with my brain that I had these memories that didn't exist?? My father quietly said "no, you are not losing your mind, your mother has just blocked out a lot of things in her life, and now she is doing it with you". I couldn't believe that my mother could not have remembered the way she was years ago. I couldn't believe that she could just alter her own perception, but she had. It was her way of dealing with the lifetime of shit she had never dealt with or overcome.


I felt so much pity for her at that moment.


For a time in my life, I too was usually a very good person, who sometimes had a very violent temper. It was then that I realized what the cycle was all about. It was then that I realized that what happened to my mom was not her fault. She endured a sadistic piece-of-shit father, and then went on to repeat some of his mistakes with her own children. I realized I would have done the same if I had not slowed myself down and made some real changes in my behavior. The cycle could only keep going if I allowed it to do so.


That's what it all comes down to, isn't it? What we allow ourselves to do? Yeah, I could wallow in the misery of my tainted childhood. I could scream "ABUSE!" and use it as a catch-all for all of the mistakes that I make throughout my life, but what does that get me? A miserable life that continues to wallow in the past. I prefer to take the Dr. Denis Leary stance of "Shut the fuck up. Life sucks, get a helmet!"


You don't get to control what is done to you as a kid. You don't get to pick your parents, you don't get to pick what lifestyle you are brought into, you don't get to pick what they believe or try to force upon you. All you get to control is how you deal with what you have been handed and then you get to make a choice, piss or get off the pot. I have known so many people that to this day, use their parents bullshit as a fallback for everything they've got going wrong with their lives. It enflames me. I have dealt with the same things they have, but here I sit, in my lovely home, with my awesome husband, life is basically a peach! Why? Because I CHOOSE not to sweat the things I can't go back in time and change. I was able to recognize the damage my mother had done, address it, and move on. Anyone can do the exact same thing, but I think that deep down, they love being the victim. They love being able to talk about how horrible their problems are and cry that their mommies and daddies did this to them. What a world, what a world!


Shut the fuck up. Here is a bit of advice to you whiny fucks that just can't let it go and move on. No one wants to hear your crap. We are all completely sick and tired of hearing about your childhood and what your current mental label is. Co-dependent, enabler, socially withdrawn, unable to commit, unable to emote...wah, wah, wah. No one cares!! You are a huge downer, and exude misery and desperation. The same thing I have heard from so many people is the "I want to be happy...." or "I want to be in a good relationship..." etc, etc, speeches. The only answer to that is ok, so go and fucking get it! If you keep talking about all of your symptoms, and all of your drawbacks, and all of the scars you have been left with, that is all you will get. Until you start being the person you want to be, and living the life you want to have, you are doing nothing more than making your therapist's mortgage payments. There is a statute of limitations on how long you can blame your parents for shit and stay in therapy. If you have been in therapy for more than a year or two, seriously, time to consider a new avenue.


There. That's my $150 an hour session for you. I should finish up my psychology degree and get my own practice. Give that bitch Dr. Phil a run for his money!

My Niceness Won't Win Me The Prize

I went on a job interview just the other day. I really thought I nailed it. The job sounded great, I was able to answer all of his questions with confidence, ease, and a little bit of humor. We seemed to be on the same page regarding the position and what it would require. I gave him some great examples of what I would be able to bring to the table. It wasn't a hammer-it-out kind of interview, but relaxed and conversational. We spent about 45 minutes talking about the company and business in general. I was extremely excited about the opportunity and knew I would be able to hit the ground running. I was sure this job was mine!


I talked to my recruiter as soon as I was back in my car, and she told me we should have some feedback in a couple days. He wanted to wait until he had met with all of the candidates. I finally heard back last night and she had nothing but great things to say. "He LOVED YOU, thought you had outstanding skills. He was so impressed with your responses and your sense of humor." I immediately started to do the happy dance! Fanfuckintastic! I was sure I would be getting called back for the final interview.


Then she says, "But..."


But what bitch? Why is there a but? There should be no but!


"But, he felt that you were too...oh, how do I put this...nice. Yeah, he felt that you were very relaxed and easy to talk to and that might be a hindrance."


Uhm, hindrance? To what? To making clients happy? To having the ability to speak to people like they are people and not like a corporate drone? To having the ability to take on a massive amount of work with a smile and a great attitude? HINDRANCE??


I had nothing to respond to her with. What do you say to such obviously idiotic feedback? I didn't know if I should punch something or cry. How is it possible that I have such a great interview, and somehow manage to completely blow it by being NICE?


She said he was still on the fence about me, and wasn't sure if I would be brought back for the second interview. I was still in a mild state of shock and said whatever, just let me know.


I whined to a friend of mine shortly after that phone call, and he told me he would give me the male interpretation of what this guy was saying. Either he was intimidated by someone who could be professional but not tight-assed and is a retard for not seeing that as a positive in an employee...or...he thought I was too damn cute and friendly to keep his mind on work and his wife. So either way, I win, because now I know that he is too stupid to work for and I won't end up in a job I'll end up hating.


Ok, fine, I can see where he is coming from, and frankly, it's the only explanation that makes any kind of sense to me. I felt a little better after that. At least I didn't have to keep replaying the interview in my head wondering where the hell I went wrong.


Men, I love you, but damn, you have disappointed me today. Get over the ego and your uncontrollable erections and give the smart chick a job. A girl's gotta eat god damn it!

I'll Never Understand Women

I've never had a lot of female friends. Being more of the tomboy, I didn't subscribe to the female 'pack' mentality. In each school I attended, I was fortunate to find one like-minded girl who I could really bond with, and that was enough for me. I got along with other girls, just preferred the company of guys because they always seemed more real to me. In high school, there were of course cliques, and that one elite pack of chicks who were 'best friends forever'...forever turns out to be as long as it takes for one of the girls to steal another girls boyfriend, or give up one of those take it to the grave secrets. I would sit with my friend in the cafeteria and observe their behavior. The elite group had a mile long table that could accommodate up to 20 best friends, and they were loud, obnoxious, and downright bitchy. They had really big hair, a ton o' makeup, and big smelly Louis Vuitton purses. The part I always enjoyed watching was when it was close to the end of the lunch period...one of the flock would gather up her things and head off to class and the moment she was out of earshot...


"Did you SEE the new jacket she bought?! Ohmygod, I would so not be caught dead wearing that piece of garbage."

"I heard her mom and dad are getting divorced, so she can't afford Cavaricci's...it's so sad to have to shop at The Gap."

"Well I heard that she was caught drinking with Michelle's boyfriend last Friday, and now there is a big fight with..."


And on and on and on it would go. This is what took place each and every time one of the flock left the group. It was time to pounce, degrade, and mock. And the best part of it all was that none of the girls ever thought the others were doing it to THEM when they were away from the group. It would just blow my mind that none of these girls could see that they were all available prey for the clique to devour at any given time, and not a single one of them was a true friend in any sense of the word.


CRAZY!!!


Seeing how girls behaved toward each other, when all their focus is set on is hair, makeup, boys, and who can be the biggest bitch to rule the group, kept me from ever wanting to be part of it. It doesn't really change as you get older either. If you were a girly-girl in high school, you are a girly-girl in your 20's and 30's as well. My female friend pool is pretty much nothing more than a wad of spit in a dried up lake. I lost touch with my best friend after we went off to college, and that was the last truly close female friend I have had. I missed her company, and hoped to find someone else I could relate to and get along with as well as she and I did. We were really like two peas in a pod, people often mistook us for sisters, and it was great to have someone you could talk girl shit to. My guy friends have always been awesome, but there are just those times you need the female perspective. So after many years, I searched for a suitable female friend.


I might as well have been searching for the Holy fucking Grail.


One chick that I met stands out in particular as a viable cross-section study of pure crazy. The fact that she was involved with my Unholy Boss should have been a big clue to run away, but I figured no female would subject herself to such cruelty and degradation without having a damn interesting reason. Turns out on this rare occasion, I was dead wrong. What IS IT with women taking infinite amounts of bullshit and abuse from men they claim to love?? While Crazy exhibits all sorts of neuroses...germophobe, complete absence of self-esteem, inability to see reality even when it is bitch-slapping her up and down the block, total lack of parenting skills...the one that really amazes me, and ties into the rest, is her accepting of her husband's constant and aggressive abuse. They are in a relationship that most people would walk on a mile's worth of hot coals and steel nails to get away from, and she does nothing about it. Let me break it down.


They met about 9 years ago, and Unholy Boss pursued Crazy for months. Devoted all of his time and attention to her, showered her with praise and sonnets of love, and the almighty credit card. She was instantly smitten. He was very charismatic and flattering, he was always available, always wanted her to know that he was so lucky to have met her. Who wouldn't fall head over heels? After just a short courtship however, his attitude began to change. She started to see sides of his personality that weren't there before, started to wonder if he was always being honest with her. She began to wonder if he was involved with his ex-girlfriend again. The whirlwind was coming to an end and he was showing his true colors and she was *still dating him*. Even after she had confirmation that he had in fact been cheating on her, and even after he flatly denied it to her face, she continued to date him.


Then the girl genius got knocked up.


When he found out, he decided he would recommit to his new 'family' and become a better man. Unfortunately, a sociopath is a sociopath until the day he dies. She never had a chance. They continued on their roller-coaster for years. They were engaged, they were separated, they were engaged, they were separated, she threw him in jail, then she took him back, then he bought her a condo so they could live separately, then she took him back, then she got a lawyer and sued for custody, then he bought her a new house, then she took him back, then they got married.


Anyone else feel like laughing hysterically or barfing at this point?


I spent time with her briefly, during one of their separation periods, when I thought for sure she was going to do what was best for her son and get them both away from this crazy animal. She gathered information to show the judge that he was unfit, she had financial records ready to prove he could pay an ample amount of child support, she had a great lawyer ready to go to bat for her. We spent countless hours on the phone and in the office getting paperwork ready. I consoled her as best I could, I tried to rally her excitement for a new life free of abuse, neglect, and misery. I tried to show her that she could stand on her own two feet and make a life for her and her son. That even if she didn't have all of her previous comforts and an affluent lifestyle, she would be ahead of the game simply because she would be free of a tyrannical asshole. She was scared, but seemed determined to make a permanent split. She read tons of self-help books, read up on how sociopaths operate, how they manipulate and exert power through systematical abuse. She had tools, she had support, she had a plan.


Then she married the fucking lunatic.


I was aghast. I was absolutely shocked and mortified to see someone who I once thought had some elusive inner-strength (based on the ability to stay with someone so crazy for so long) give up everything she had just worked for in order to not be 'poor' or alone. The only reason she is with him is because she is terrified at the concept of living out her days without a man beside her. Even if that man is a sub-creature straight out of Pinhead's Cenobite hell. She would rather give up all of her integrity, hope, happiness, pride, love and self-worth than be alone. That is a very sad state of affairs. Especially since her selfish decision directly impacts the well being of her only child. I recall hearing the Unholy Boss say something like:


"If your mommy and I aren't together anymore, then remember she is the one that ruined your life, and I will be dead to you!"


The kid was five years old.


If that isn't reason enough to get the fuck out for good, I don't know what the hell is. So I have to ponder....what is SO WRONG with this chick's brain and emotional capacity that she can't put anything ahead of her need to have a relationship with this guy? I mean, I see this all the time. I see horrible relationship after horrible relationship, and loveless marriage after loveless marriage, it is nothing short of an epidemic. Why do women insist on staying with someone that makes their life a chaotic mess? What do they get out of it?


You are probably expecting me to have some great theory or insight, and as much as I hate to disappoint, I come up empty handed. I am not without my own faults, and I admittedly dated some fucked up individuals in my time, but the difference is that I eventually LEFT THEM. One way or the other, I made a choice to take said asshole out of my life and out of my reality for good. I have stayed with people long past the point of them being a healthy contributor to my happiness...yes, I have stayed with someone out of fear of being by myself, being the lone person on Christmas when everyone is sharing the holiday joy. I hated going to parties where everyone was a couple and I got the "oh, you'll find that special guy one day!" look of pity. I fucking hate that look.


Eventually though, as we all should, I grew up. I started to evaluate what was important in my life, and what was going to make me happy. I also started to look a little closer at the couples that were flaunting their couple greatness. I began to see a lot of unhappiness there. I started to see how many couples have absolutely no business being together. How many couples feed off each other's worst attributes until they are just two very pissed off roommates instead of soulmates. I realized quite quickly that I did not have any desire to live my life that way. I would rather be on my own than be in a shitty relationship. I was no longer willing to settle. And that, I think, is what it comes down to for a lot of chicks. The idea that "well, I don't really love this guy, buuuut, it'll keep me from dying alone". That is unfortunate and sad. To sell yourself short out of fear of the unknown. To shackle yourself to another person in some grim hope that they will provide that thing you need to feel complete. That's about all it came down to for Crazy. I have asked her several times, why do you love this guy? She has yet to give me an answer.


I still talk to her on occasion and she tells me all of the horrible things he does to her, and how badly she is treated, and how miserable her marriage is. And I sit quietly and nod my head while I bite my tongue to keep from screaming "YOU ARE THE MOST PATHETIC FEMALE I HAVE EVER MET IN MY LIFE!!!"


So my search remains fruitless. I find I am not so sad about it anymore. I still have a majority of male friends, and I really prefer it that way. Their motivations are much easier to understand...beer, boobs, sports, video games. Now that's a personality I can get behind.

Why I Love This Shithole Hot Dog Joint

I am seriously pissed off at companies for luring you into their traps...they give you a GREAT product at a good price and then over the years as their popularity grows and they are feeling secure...BAM! They adopt the "screw the customer, take away the very reason we became popular in the first place and jack up the prices" mentality. I refer today to Cinnabon. I was at the mall recently and smelled the famous Cinnabon smell and thought wow, haven't had one of those in years, gotta have one! My brother used to work at one way back in the day, and brought home truckloads of leftovers and couldn't stand the sight of them for about 8 years or so. Excited about having a once-loved dessert treat again, I waited in line for the freshly baking rolls to come on out of the oven and have it served up warm and sweet to me.

Upon opening the box, I knew great disappointment was afoot...the roll was this tiny little thing sitting in the middle of the box. When Cinnabon first arrived on the scene, they could barely squeeze those honkin' rolls into the boxes and still manage to close the lids. I looked for the nice light brown toastiness, and saw only half cooked dough. The middle of the roll was sunken in and really, it was just a very pathetic sight. Desperate though to enjoy this ridiculously expensive thing, I took a few bites...the fact that it was not thoroughly baked was hard to ignore, and it was missing the distinct, sharp cinnamon flavor. Cinnabon was made famous because they used a high grade cinnamon that cost very big bucks. It is what gave the rolls that singular flavor and made you feel a little less guilty about spending $4 on something Pillsbury could squeeze out if it's ass in packs of 10 for under three bucks. Now Cinnabon uses the same cinnamon I can pour out the head of the little plastic-woman-cinnamon-shaker-thing I have had in my spice cabinet for like 10 years. You bait and switch bastards.

I am so sick of great products turning to crap to keep investors happy. What about the sucker customers shelling out GOOD money for your garbage product? Oh that's right, once they are hooked and can be counted on to make future purchases, they don't matter for shit. Everything is for sale if it means maintaining your profit margins and pleasing your share holders.

Which brings me to why I so very much LOVE Gene n' Jude's.

Gene and Jude's is an institution in my city. When I spent a short time living in St. Louis and would visit my home town, I made sure to stop off before I got on the road so I could fill up my cooler and have treats the whole ride back. They have resisted making any sort of change at all, even as surrounding areas and businesses attempt to go a bit more trendy and yuppy-ish. The building has never been upgraded, renovated, remodeled, or refurbished. They serve the only three things they can make exceptionally well...hot dogs, fresh cut fries and tamales. You move like cattle through the line, give your order, stick out your money, and as long as you don't dare ask for ketchup, you will have no problems. You can stand at the counter that runs the length of the building and eat, or hang in your car - which I prefer because then you get to smell the hot dogs long after they have been enjoyed.

They have not changed a thing about the way they operate in 30 years of business, and that is exactly what people love about them. They can count on consistent, delicious food at a very reasonable price. I have gone in the summer, and seen lines of hungry patrons that stretched from the front of the counter, along the wall, out the back door, and around the side of the building. I have personally stood in line for 45 minutes to get a fucking hot dog and fries...and friends, it was worth every god damn second!!

I have no doubt that the owners of this hot dog joint are millionaires. They actually require two shipments of bread and potatoes each DAY in the summertime because they can't even store that much food in the back. I'd be curious to know exactly how many they sell in day, but I would be willing to bet it is in the thousands. They pay their staff very well...as they should consider they have no air conditioning, and it must be about 150 degrees working by those steamers in the middle of summer. They have little overhead, no fancy building or 'image' to waste money on. So the owners bank tons o' cash, the staff are well cared for, and the customers are happier than pigs in shit...everyone wins.

Great Product + Happy People = Huge Success

It amazes me that with all of the money corporate chains have to invest in research and marketing, none of them can figure out this not at all fucking elusive formula for success...but a couple of fat Dago's who love hot dogs can. I am so glad I never wasted money on college.

What Happened To Respect?

So my husband calls me yesterday whining about his social security statement and how pitiful it was. I was like what you bitchin' about anyway? Not like social security will even exist when we are old enough to use it. So that got me to thinking about old people, and about me being old, and then about me being old and poor and having to live on cat food. I hear that happens to the elderly more often than you'd think. God, I can't even stand to smell my cat's cat food in the morning, and I sure as hell can't imagine actually dining on it myself. Then that thought got me thinking about how the elderly are treated in general and then I got pissed off. So many young people in America treat the elderly like they are garbage, throwaways, and inconveniences in their vigorous pursuit of never-ending complacency.

Do you grasp the simple reality that the elderly are the very people you should be thanking for your ignorant, ridiculous, self-serving existence? Can it at all sink in that these are the people that survived the Depression, rebuilt the economy, suffered, sweat, bled and died so America could be the thriving power you all get to blindly enjoy on a daily basis? These are the men and women that build our railroads, built the homes many of us live in today, built the power line systems that bring you The Surreal Life, American Idol or whatever show created for the viewing pleasure of complete morons is #1 this week, built our sewer systems, built our emergency systems, built, well, everything?

It sickens me, absofuckinlutely SICKENS me when I see the elderly being mistreated and disrespected by todays' test tube youth. Hold a door open you whiny little bastard, pretend you are a gentleman. Give up your seat on the bus you IPod toting, ignore-the-world-as-it-moves-around-you fuck. Help out a senior in your neighborhood by giving them a lift to a doctor's appointment once or twice a month - many medical plans do not offer transportation assistance anymore. When you are at a stop sign, and you see an elderly person who needs to cross the street, don't just pause and then fly through the intersection as if you own the goddamn world. Instead, sit your pansy little ass at the fucking stop sign and PATIENTLY, with a smile even, wait until they are safely across the street. My god, are we all in such a huge rush to get to the next appointment in our pathetic lives that we can't slow down for a mere 30 seconds in the interest of safety and courtesy to another human being?!?

My father taught me, since infancy, that respecting those around you, particularly your elders, is respecting yourself. You are showing that you treat everyone the way you feel you deserve to be treated. You are doing the right thing. Period.

One day, like it or not, you will be old and your priorities and attitude will have changed. And when some foul-mouthed, disrespectful kid treats you like shit, you will have lost your right to bitch about it.

I'd Never Make It As An Actress

Unholy Boss: "Everyone else is staying late tonight since we got new accounts in, and you're getting ready to leave. You don't seem to have the same dedication as you used to."

Me: "Shit. My carefully orchestrated facade of concern for your business and a desire to make you even more wealthy has been unveiled."

Unholy Boss: "You are such a bitch."

Little Sluts Should Go To Jail

I've been spending an ample amount of my extensive free time at work browsing Fark.com. Lately, I can't get past a few posts without seeing an article about some hot female teacher screwing one of her students. It's got me to thinking about a very good friend of mine, and it's gotten me seriously fucking steamed, and I'll tell you why.

My friend spent two years in jail, and was under house arrest for another year after his release. He now lives in Hickville, USA taking care of his ailing father, while trying to finish up college to earn a business degree, as well as working nearly full time to assist his parents with their bills. He has had a hell of a time lately keeping a job though, since the moment employers find out what he was incarcerated for, he is instantly deemed a pariah and fired on the spot. He has lost several jobs this way, has had to find interesting ways to gloss over several years of his life when making conversation with other students and professors, and has to constantly deal with the effects of his jail sentence and subsequent status...which is *rapist*.

Hold on to the image you just got in your head about my friend. Young male, labeled by our laws and government as a sex offender who had to serve time for his criminal act. I have no doubt that the image you see is is not a pretty one. Perhaps some old guy feeding off the flower of young, impressionable virgins. Perhaps some guy who has raped women in back alleys. Whatever you envision, it is nothing like what you would think if you heard a female was a rapist or sex offender. I'd bet my life on that. This is what I see in the media and social reactions to statutory rape:

• Men are seen as predatory villains who have stolen the innocence of a helpless victim.
  
• Women are applauded for getting some young ass, and men everywhere are wondering "why didn't I ever have a teacher that fine hittin' on me when I was living with a 24-hour erection?"
  
• Men are sent to jail for up to 10 years and are forever listed as a sexual predator.
  
• Women use plenty of snazzy defenses to show why she was so 'confused' and 'misunderstood' and would 'never make that mistake again'...and they WIN.
  
• Men are released from prison, stripped of their license, live as outcasts in their community or move to a new city and pray no one recognizes them.
  
• Women get a book deal, and their stories are told in a movie of the week on Lifetime for Women and are supported by friends and family for what she has 'endured'.

Are you fucking KIDDING ME?

The over-sexed teacher population is one of two examples on how there is an egregious difference in how we treat and view people who make mistakes regarding sex. If you are going to ruin a man's life for having sex with a minor, you damn well better do the same to a woman. There should be no difference in jail time, or social perception, but obviously there is, and it is complete bullshit. We view it as: a man is supposed to have absolute, total and constant control over his impulses, and if he dares to slip even once, then he must be severely punished because girls are frail and easily scarred for life and this traumatic event must certainly mean years of therapy and bad relationships with future men. We see the woman perpetrator as "Mrs. Robinson", sweetly and seductively taking this young boy into manhood, showing him the beauty and grace of human sexuality while leaving him with a wistful memory that he will surely cherish in 80 years as he withers away in a nursing home.

In my friends situation, he made a stupid fucking mistake. He was in his early 20's and was having a party at his house. He said it was a great party, tons of people, tons of liquor, loud music and hot sweaty sex going on in various rooms. Wish I had been there! One of the chicks that was there had been at other parties, hung out with some of his friends, and she was hitting on my friend HARD. From what he tells me, she had a pretty fine physique and looked mighty good that night. She was on him for hours, talking, suggesting, flashing smiles, leaning in at just the right angle to allow him optimal cleavage enjoyment, touches, kisses and leg rubs. Two young, moderately intoxicated, attractive people....you can guess what happened. She made her moves and they had a night of bliss. Well, it was probably more like sloppy drunken sex with a lot of slurring and falling all over each other, but hey, who can complain?

The next day, officer friendly shows up at my friends apartment and says "you're under arrest". As his brain is starting to melt and every organ in his body threatens to shut down or implode, he stammers out "huh? what? why? what'd I do?". The policeman looks at him with disgust and says with a fixed mask of anger "for fucking a minor". My friends eyes grow wide as saucers, instantly losing all color in his face, the very blood in his veins seeming to shrivel and die, all the while, he scans his mind for an explanation. This is a joke right? Surely it is a joke. I don't hang out with kids. What the fuck is happening to me??? And the cuffs are slapped on tight...

He finds out at the police station that the lil' minx he nailed has a brother. A very angry brother who also happens to hate my friend. Apparently, the two had some altercations in the past. The angry brother was looking for any way to get back at my friend, and when his trampy little sister opened the door to full legal recourse, well, he just stepped on through. Angry brother was all too happy to inform the police that my friend had committed statutory rape, as his sister was only 14 years old.

My friend had no fucking clue. Of course he knew she was young, probably in the 17-18 year old range. The simple fact is, they were at a party, they were drinking, she wanted to get laid, and so did he. Happens EVERY SINGLE DAY. He didn't coerce her, he didn't throw her down on the bed kicking and screaming NO. They just had sex. But as far as the law is concerned, he committed statutory rape of a minor, and he was going to prison. Period. He was being sent to a facility that houses murderers, brutal rapists, armed robbers and more....cuz he got laid.

He went to court and plead his case, but saying you didn't know that someone was under age is not a viable defense. The judge couldn't care less. Even though the girl got up and testified that she lead him to believe she was older than she was, that she wore clothing and makeup to purposely appear older, that she in fact, pursued him and it was completely consensual, the judge couldn't care less. The law was the law and my friend was going to prison.

What a fucking joke.

Men take the heat way too much whenever a woman feels like flaunting her shit. If a 23 year old woman had sex with what she thought was an 18 year old boy, no one would want to stone her in public screaming "rapist!" Sure, if someone was angry enough about it to report it to the police, she would have to make the rounds in the legal system, but she would at least have RECOURSE. She can use every excuse in the book to garner sympathy and forgiveness, and she would GET IT. She would be pitied. But the same thing happens to a man? Well then it is all about following the letter of the law, no excuses, no exceptions.

I personally think it is idiotic to make a person go to jail for having consensual sex. Don't tell me a 15 year old boy can't make decisions on whether he wants to get some hot, older chick ass. That's my personal belief, and many would disagree. I wish it weren't such a stringent law, and I sure as hell wish there were a way to differentiate between honest to god against your will rape, and people in the wrong age bracket gettin' it on. My friend is registered as a rapist. When you go online and search the sex offender database, you will see his prison photo right next to the guy that has made it his life's mission to brutalize women. He doesn't get to put up a disclaimer that says "wait! this is what actually happened!"

And what about the 14 year old that essentially ruined my friends life? What happens to her? Nothing. She can lie, manipulate, and seduce, but my friend has to suffer HER consequences. Why is there no penalty for her? She took someone's life into her hands, wreaked havoc, and skipped away. She will never have to worry about background checks, or new friends finding out your criminal status. She will never have to register in every county you ever live in for the rest of your LIFE as a sex offender....she just gets to forget it ever happened. Just another silly thing she did when she was young and stupid!

How can you put all of the culpability on men? How come men suffer much more dire consequences than women? How are all of these females avoiding prosecution by smiling pretty and claiming 'emotional hardship' as the reason she decided to fuck a teenager?

How come these little sluts aren't in jail?

The saddest part of all of this is my friend is a fantastic guy. He is the reason I met my husband in the first place. He was the first person I called and told, after two weeks of dating, that I was head over heels in love. He was so happy for me he was practically in tears. He said nothing could make him happier than to see two of his best friends together. My husband and I asked him if he would get ordained so he could be the one to marry us - and he did. He is the kind of guy that would drop his entire life, jump in a car and drive 15 hours straight if I needed help. He is the kind of guy that ADORES women...he loves their intellect, their beauty, their charm, their grace. He has always been a great admirer of the fairer sex and has always treated them with respect and honesty. He is doing everything he can now to get his life back in order, get a degree, be a great son and repay his parents for all of the expense and heartache this ordeal has caused. Once you are a friend of his, you are a friend for life. You could lose touch for 10 years, but that wouldn't change anything once you re-connected, it'd be as if not a day went by.

The people that didn't know him pre-incarceration will never see that. If he doesn't have a chance to explain what happened, all they will see once they know about his record, is that he is a rapist. All because some little bitch gets to do whatever see feels like without any consequences...JUST BECAUSE she is a female. I feel terrible for guys these days...they really get a raw fucking deal.

My Husband Better Have The Balls To Club Me Like A Baby Seal

About a year and a half ago, I had to put down my cat. My first kitty, my Amadeus, he was one amazing little guy. Anyone who isn't a cat person will never understand, but he and I had a very special bond. He started to get sick just before Christmas. He was only seven, and should have been the picture of health. The vet couldn't figure out what was wrong with him. He was hurting, and vomiting, and listless. It was agonizing to see him in that state, even just to think about it now, it still makes my skin crawl. They ran every test they could think of, and short of cutting him open to poke around his insides, there was no way to make a firm diagnosis. The vet said that in the absence of any other diagnosis, it was most likely cancer of the liver. Cancer. My sweet and perfect Pookey was sick and there was nothing in the world I could do to fix him. I truly felt like I had lost my best friend, and it was like being in a void where I couldn't feel or hear or breathe.

The vet gave him some meds to bring back his appetite, had some fluids pushed into him, and I took him home weeping like a little bitch. The vet said the meds have him feeling much better for a day or two, but I had to think about the inevitable...putting him down. Those last two days I was with him were wonderful and awful. Jesus Christ, I am sobbing even as I write this. I realize that what I am about to say will sound ludicrous to anyone who doesn't bond with their furry companions like I do...well, tough shit. Deal with my pain for a moment. I played with him, I held him, I slept with him curled up behind my knees, stroking his soft, silky fur for hours. I told him how much I loved him, how much he meant to me, how much I was going to miss him. I said my goodbyes and prayed to any god that would listen to give him a painless death and take care of him when I no longer could.

It...was...EXCRUCIATING.

I wanted to die with him. I would curl up on the floor in the bathroom and cry for hours. I would cry for so long that I thought my soul had just seeped out of my body. Eventually my wails and sobs would fade into a deep, heart breaking moan and I would fall asleep feeling completely numb and exhausted.

I woke up and decided that I would not, under any circumstances, accept this. He was my Amadeus, and I had to fight for him. I had to make someone understand that he could not die! I drove to the humane society and asked to speak with the vet again. The vet that had performed all of his tests came out to meet with me. I sat him down and explained that this was just unacceptable. Something had to be wrong. Someone screwed up the tests. Maybe they were reading something wrong. Maybe he just needed medication or shots for the rest of his life but he would be otherwise the spritely kitty he had always been. I was resolute to be very serious, and above all, I would not cry. If I didn't cry, this wasn't happening, and I could make this all better. The vet was extremely patient in the face of my insanity, and he was incredibly sympathetic. He explained again, that it just happens sometimes. Sometimes perfectly healthy cats fall ill, and there is nothing we can control but the amount of suffering they endure. I asked if there was any way we could keep giving him the meds I got the day before, continue to keep him hydrated, how much more time would he have? How much more time would *I* have with him? He said that Amadeus was already in pain, that he was most likely trying very hard to hide his pain from me. I had no doubt that he was right. Amadeus was always empathetic and he had the uncanny ability to know when I was hurting, and he would literally pet me and try to console me. Amazing creature. The vet said that the cancer would start to shut his organs down, the pain would increase and he would be unable to do anything at all. He would just lay there and die in silent agony. My resolution to be very serious and not cry under any circumstance was shot to shit. I lost control of my emotions and I just sobbed. This complete stranger put his arm around me and just let me wail.

I finally got myself under some semblance of composure, and I asked him what the process of euthanasia entailed. He explained what they would do, and what they believe it to be like for the animal. I nodded my head and was able to whisper that I would bring him in the following morning. The day before Christmas Eve.

I thanked this man for enduring my emotional outburst, and taking time out from his hectic schedule to sit with me. He said something that has stuck with me to this day. "This is one of the hardest things you will have to do, I know that. But I believe that it takes more love to put an animal down one week too soon, than one day too late". I drove home thinking about that. It was torturing me that the meds and fluids had made Amadeus like his old self. He was giving me cuddles and running around with my other kitty and his appetite was back. The thought of putting him down when he seemed so alive was just so hard to reconcile. But I eventually understood, and agreed with the vet. Amadeus was going to have maybe a week or two of feeling good, but the pain was going to set in, and he probably wouldn't let me see it. He would suffer for my benefit. Then he would crash, and crash hard. There was just no way in hell I was going to let my baby go through that. No way in hell.

I drove home and really prepared myself to spend the last remaining hours I had on this earth with Amadeus.

I am an emotional wreck writing this part of my story, so I am going to wrap it up before my husband offers me any little 'relaxation' pills.

I'll allow you to imagine what it was like the next day. Having to part with him. Say my goodbyes. Just promise whatever you imagine, you will multiply that by ten. Only then might you have an inkling of what I went through.

There comes a point in every life that it must cease to exist. It is a natural fact, and it is unchangeable. No one wants to think about it, well, unless you like that sort of thing, and certainly no one wants to think about someone they love dearly meeting their end. It makes me think about the woman that lives in the apartment below us. She is the mother of my landlord, and was probably once a very lovely woman. Now, she is so senile, she probably would believe her live-in nurse is Joseph Stalin. She has suffered several strokes, is unable to do much of anything on her own, she is in diapers and on tons of medication. Sometimes, I hear her wailing and moaning through our old heating vents. Just wailing for no reason at all. It has, at times, reminded me of my nights curled up on the bathroom floor. It makes my blood go cold. I feel for this woman. I feel for the pain she must be in. I fear that she experiences short moments of clarity, which only serve to remind her that she is otherwise in a constant state of infancy. She is no longer the adult she was, with a bright mind and a history. She is a shell that is just waiting to die.

I wish someone would love her enough to end her misery. Euthanasia on humans is a very touchy subject, very taboo in our culture. I think that is idiotic and blind. Is it that we are too terrified to think of our own mortality? Is it that we are convinced that a deity will strike us down if we dare end the suffering of a loved one? Is it that we believe it is murder, no matter the wishes of the damned? I know plenty of cultures have incorporated euthanasia as a perfectly natural part of existence. It is not against god, or against mans' invulnerability to do what is best for someone we love, who is in pain. It is just another phase of life, and therefore accepted.

It's too bad we don't have more avenues of relief for loved ones who suffer incurable and debilitating sickness. I can't imagine living a life, struggling to survive, raising a family and filling a home with love and memories only to have it all wiped away by a stroke or dementia. I can't imagine suffering the pain of end-stage cancer, watching my body shut down while I lie in a hospital bed unable to stop it. I would never want that for myself, and certainly not for my family. I would not want them to see me in that state, not only because it is horrible to watch someone die slowly, but because it wouldn't even be me anymore.

If I am on a constant morphine drip, in and out of consciousness, mind hazy and uncomprehending, that is not me. That is not the vibrant woman who fought for and earned everything she had in life. If I am severely senile and unable to remember what it means to use a bathroom, I am no longer the woman who tried to make everyone she knew laugh. All the wonderful, horrible, sweet, loving, bitchy, neurotic, tender, forgiving parts of me would be buried and gone, only my body remaining.

I have talked to my husband about my wishes to never live like that. To never have to endure being here but gone. To never have to know in the afterlife that he suffered so horribly for me. He tries to shrug it off, "don't talk about thinks like that" or "I don't want to think about it". Those excuses don't fly with me. I married him and he vowed to always do everything possible to make me happy. He vowed to always love me more than anything else in this world, to always take care of me. I know lots of people would think love is enduring someone elses pain. Caring for them endlessly while they are dying and demented. Showing them the true meaning of "in sickness and in health". My husband, in his fear of losing me, would probably foolishly agree.

Well baby, I got news for you...you married a girl that belives true love is clubbing me like a baby seal when the time comes. I love you more than anyone has ever loved someone, but so help me all that is holy and pure, if you leave me on this earth to rot and wander the house in my crusty robe singing The Brady Bunch theme song, I will permeate the walls of dimensions and reality to haunt your ass straight into the bowels of insanity and beyond.

Why Jesus Thinks You're Dumb

A friend of mine showed my blog to his wife. I happen to find both of these people to be extremely intelligent and down to earth, and value their opinions. After viewing my posts, and of course praising them as genius (oh shut up), she pointed out that some may be offended by the title I chose. "Jesus Thinks You're Dumb" - credit to E for suggesting it to me!

If you are the type of person that is immediately taken aback or offended by what most would call a *sense of humor* then this is obviously not the blog for you. If you have read anything up to this point, you will notice that the trend is for me rail against those who have such a tiny little cranium and inability to see possibilities outside of their 2 square feet of comfort zone.

I think Jesus must be shaking his head constantly as he watches humans exhibiting the greatest extents of their own buffoonery. I think that if any of us could watch ourselves at a distance, we would see what complete retards most of us are. We lie, cheat, hate, kill, torture, steal...sometimes in the name of god, and sometimes just because we are too high on ourselves to see anything beyond fulfilling our own selfish desires. We rape the earth, we squander with reckless abandon, we shut each other out...because we can't see a bigger picture than ourselves. We do all of these things, and more, even though we have more capacity to love, understand, help and hope than any other creature on the planet.

If that isn't retarded, I don't know what the fuck is.

I know we have the capacity to do great things, to overcome tragedy with grace and dignity and love. We have the innate ability to stand together and put the needs of the greater good ahead of our own. Even if only for a moment. I know this is possible because I have been a witness to it. I can look back at one point in my own history and remember what it felt like when we were not at odds with each other. September 11. I don't pretend to know why the attacks happened, how they happened, or who made them happen. Right now, I don't care. What I do know is that as I watched the news, and saw those towers go up in flames, watched people jumping out of windows, watched the panic and terror of those close to the devastation, time stood still. In my own city, we were all evacuated and sent home, and as I drove, the streets were eerily quiet and deserted...something I have never seen before living in a major metro area. It scared the shit out of me. I had flashes of The End, and couldn't think straight enough to know what I should be feeling.

That day, everyone was glued to their television, and if they were anything like me, they were gathering up with as many friends and family as they could. We sat and watched the events unfold, always with the thought in the back our minds, it could happen to us at any second. There was such a hush across the city. I live close to the airport, and the absence of planes flying overhead was noticeable and terrifying. There were no trains zooming by, there were no cars with angry motorists wailing on their horns, there were hardly any people on the streets at all. It was just quiet.

For about two or three days after, it was more of the same. But as people were coming out, and life was resuming, there was a drastic change in everyones demeanor. I wasn't being cut off on the road, I was given a yield with no problem when I needed to change a lane, I was hearing 'please' and 'thank you' everywhere I went. Complete strangers were saying hello, or waving. There was a general attitude of helpfulness coming from most everyone I came across. People no longer had the constant air of discontent and hostility...those typical behaviors were replaced with a very strange sort of calm and enlightenment. I was literally marvelling at what was happening, and at the same moment thinking to myself "it really sucks that this will end".

I knew that it was just a matter of time before we all slipped back into our comfortable complacency, and the days of Love Thy Neighbor would be just a memory. I felt a crushing sadness from that realization...knowing that I have just seen the magnitude of what we are capable of, all the while knowing that it couldn't possibly last.

We were, for such a brief moment, the amazing creatures that I believe Jesus always hoped we could be. Whether Jesus is the son of god, or was just one outstanding guy trying to hammer some common sense and love into peoples' heads, I have no idea. I fully appreciate his messages even without subscribing to Christianity. His messages were about love, tolerance, understanding, faith, charity and hope, so it seems to me he is a pretty good guy to look up to. I don't recall reading anything that said: hate each other, kill each other, rape each other, or do whatever you damn well please so long as it benefits you.

So I'd be willing to bet that...

When you call yourself a good Christian, and then hate someone for being a homosexual, Jesus thinks you're dumb.

When you treat others like shit to make yourself feel bigger, Jesus thinks you're dumb.

When you have kids and don't do everything possible to be a great parent, Jesus thinks you're dumb.

When you hate someone just because of the color of their skin, or the faith they practice, Jesus thinks you're dumb.

When you have the ability to help another person, and you waste it, Jesus thinks you're dumb.

If everything I just said offends you, then you are the person this blog is written about. I suggest you just move along and go find an inspiring mommy blog somewhere...you can hear all about the trials and tribulations of being a middle-aged fat chick with three bratty kids no one can stand except her (oh they are such ANGELS!), and how she is currently dealing with her new prescription for Prozac. You can go and find some bad online poetry, talking about misty meadows and forget-me-nots. Go wherever your delicate constitution won't have to be assaulted by my words, because I really don't give a flying fuck. I am not here to make you feel warm and fuzzy or adhere to what you think is ok to talk about. I am here to vent my frustration and aggravation so my husband and friends don't have to hear so much of my shit.

You got a problem with that? Well then kiss my big ole white butt. Pucker up buttercup!

You Don't Know It Yet American Express, But You Are About To Hate Me

Teehee.

Teeheeheeheee.

"Oh my god, this is going to be so cool!"

Teeheeheee

Me: "Stop doin' dishes and come watch this!"

Husband: "Whatcha doin' baby?"

Me: "Watch this!" *click* "We just paid our entire AmEx balance! One down, three cards to go!!!" (I do my celebratory Cabbage Patch dance)

Husband: "Oh, cool." (Back to the dishes he goes)

Me: (To the monitor showing my zero balance) "That's right you bitch, suck it!"

Oh AmEx...You evil financial institution of pain and slavery, you will weep now! Here's one customer you can't bleed at 16.99% interest compounded monthly, 24.99% for cash advances. HAHAHAHA!!!! Processing fees? Sorry, my balance is ZERO baby! Default interest rates? Never again you finance devastating fiend!

In just one processing day, you will know that I am no longer an open vein for your blood-sucking thirst!

I can already envision my mailbox overflowing with your "Pre-approved ZERO interest through December 2007!" letters. "Increase your credit limit with this exceptional offer through American Express!" Oh yes, they will come to me en masse, using every possible scheme in their arsenal to get me back. They will wring their hands, frantically trying to find a way to pull me back into the depths of credit card debt. They will assault me...five, six offers a month in my mailbox, emails glowing with their new rewards programs, phone calls from their telemarketing trolls expressing their gratitude for having had such a wonderful customer like me, and what can they possibly do to earn back my business??

I will ignore their letters, unopened, into the shredder they will go! Emails will be blocked and reported as spam! I will laugh at their telemarketers and give them a firm hanging up of the phone! Oh yes, they will toss and turn at night wondering how to lure me back into their clutches. "We've tried everything!" they will shout, imploring with their Dark Lord, the bank President, "She simply won't succumb to our introductory offers with the teeny-weeny-itsy-bitsy-can-only-read-with-a-Hubbel-telescope fineprint! She must somehow know that after July 1, her 0% APR will magically transform into 22.99%, compounded from the date of issue! What, Oh Evil One, are we to do?!?"

Dark Lord: "You must hit her harder! This is the time when we must double our efforts! Do you realize the tens of thousands of dollars we will lose over her lifetime? DO YOU KNOW WHAT THAT WILL MEAN TO MY PROFIT SHARING?!?"

Minions: "You can't mean..But Lord, isn't it too soon for these drastic measures?"

Dark Lord: "Silence! You incompetent fools! Do you think I sit on this throne made from the flesh of the eternally indebted and damned by CHANCE?? You will go to the next phase immediately! You will call upon the henchmen of the Partner Program Division and sell, sell, SELL her information! I sense her fortitude is weakening, surely she will crumble under the weight of our hundreds of partner offers!"

Minions: (trembling) "Yes your Evilship, we live only to serve your command."

Oh Dark Lord, yes, you will weep when you find that nothing you do can control me any longer! I have been through the dank and oppressive tunnels of your hell and I have found salvation on the other side. I am protected now by common sense and a desire to be independently wealthy! A goal that I know can only be achieved by never again succumbing to the need to fill my life with useless, over-priced shit bought by money I don't yet have! My financial freedom is within my grasp and there is nothing your legions can do to stop me! So you just better run!

Run! Tell all the other creditors the un-indebted are comin'!

You tell 'em I'm comin'!

And hell's comin' with me, you hear?

Hell's comin' with me!!

I Wonder If God Is Laughing Or Crying?

As stated in my first post, I am not a particularly religious person. I have spirituality in my life, but as far as conforming to a sect of organized religion, it's just not for me. I had explored many avenues of religion before settling on 'pagan'. I can't say Wiccan, because that just doesn't completely fit, and I am SO tired of having to defend myself when the topic is brought up in mixed company. So I stick with 'just pagan'.

I am just someone who tries to follow the Wiccan Rede, a very simple rule..."If it harm none, do as you will". I even tidied up the language as Old English makes people even more convinced I should be burned at the stake. Anyway, it seems like a very simple and obvious rule, that when you really think about it, applies to absolutely everything. In my mind, it makes the 10 commandments moot and it makes the various 'rules' of so many religions nothing more than lace trim on the dress.

If you are always keeping in the back of your mind: If the action I am about to take is going to hurt someone (including myself!), then I should find another path. And conversely: If the action I am about to take affects no one else's life in a negative way, then I am free to do what I choose. Very simple and highly applicable to everyday life...that is, if you choose to think about your actions and consequences beforehand. Again, this is just what fits ME, and my life, and my beliefs. I have no problem whatsoever with people practicing whatever it is that turns their cookie, so long as it is not harming someone else. If you don't agree, or it just hurts your sensitive feelings to even THINK of someone not believing the exact same thing as you, well tough fucking shit. Close-mindedness is not an excuse to take away someone else's right to express himself.

These last few years, there has been a bulldozer taking down anything and everything that is religiously symbolic to one particular faith. Schools can no longer have Christmas plays, they are "holiday festivals"...ok, fine, I can accept changing the name as it does particularly exclude other faiths. But to strip those plays of having any 'religious' effects is just ridiculous. The fact is, whether it is Kwanzaa, Hanukkah, Christmas, etc., the HOLIDAYS are in fact about RELIGION. We are not all celebrating the same event, but it is all religious in origin. Take your holiday play or festival or whatever is politically correct and integrate scenes that celebrate the various faiths' holiday rituals.

Condo associations have fought fellow neighbors because someone chooses to put a religious symbol on their own door, or decorate for a holiday in accordance with their faith. How fucking sick is this? Why should your disdain of religion strip away someone else's right to do with their home as they choose? Are your virgin eyes going to explode out of your insipid head if you happen to glance upon a Star of David?!?

I came across this today while browsing Fark.com and got a little sick to my stomach. The idea that we now have to gloss over HISTORY because to even SPEAK the word "Christian" is taboo, is just maddening. The future of humanity is a very grim sight in my eyes. I am sick to death of the people that want to obliterate that one thing that really makes us human...the ability to recognize that, in whatever way it may be, we are all connected. This is a simple scientific fact, this is not based on religion, this is based on genetic connections to each other. Whether you subscribe to the Evolution or Creation theories, they all come down to the fact that we are all cut from the same cloth. Many of us choose to celebrate that oneness through spirituality. Why in the world would anyone rally against that??

I am sure plenty of people will rebut my argument by citing all of the atrocities that arose from religion. No doubt, zealots who believe they know what god wants, scare the living shit out of me. These people obviously have their own agenda, and what they are carrying out in the name of god serves no greater good than their own. But for every psycho freak religious nut, there is someone like my grandmother, who loved god with all of her heart, and prayed to him daily asking for the health and safety of her family.

So there has been good in the name of god, and there has been bad in the name of god. Either way, it's not the fucking point! The point is that religion has existed as far back as our knowledge of history goes. It is an integral piece of who we are as people, and it has shaped our lives and beliefs for thousands of years. To systematically remove it from our places of education is a great atrocity in itself. To take a tour of the birthplace of America, built on religious belief, and have to take out any reference to that religion is completely asinine. We are doing our future generations a monumental disservice in not giving them the whole story. Because if we start there, where does it end? Look back on any point in history and you will see mans' inhumanity to man. All history is drenched in blood, propelled by greed and megalomaniacs. No race or nation is exempt. To remove the parts of history some may not agree with is just more of the same, and eventually, you would have nothing left to teach! Imposing your will onto others, regardless of their beliefs or desires is just another example of how we humans can't get it together. So you don't like Christianity, or you don't feel it has any place in schools or government, so fucking what? Choose, for yourself, to not subscribe to it. But to block the eyes and ears of other people without their consent tells me you got a little too much steam in your over-inflated ego.

The only way we can hope to evolve as humans is to see the truth, the truth about our history - who we were and where we are headed. We need to see all of the horrible mistakes we have made in order to figure out why we continue to make them, and hopefully with that knowledge and some (divine?) enlightenment, we can start to find a path toward something better. Trying to sanitize human history doesn't change what has happened, and it doesn't offer us any better way to make this world a place of peace and safety.

Try to imagine, if we continue to constantly restrict information, beliefs and personal choices, what our world will look like in fifty years? Do I need to go out and beat people over the head with a hardcover copy of "Harrison Bergeron" to get my point across? Do we want to celebrate everone's sameness? The glory of all that is conformed and mentally numb? What's the point of having all of these wonderful differences if we don't get to enjoy and explore them? Being human means having a conscious mind, and all of the exciting opportunities and psychoses that come with it....start whittling away at that and eventually we are all just big, stupid dogs wagging our tails waiting for the dumbass with the over-inflated ego to throw us some fucking snausages.

While I wouldn't mind seeing the Catholic church lose some of its grip on the world, and I certainly wouldn't mind seeing violent radicals screaming 'Allah' meet their maker really fucking fast, to pull away from religion, better yet *spirituality*, would leave humans feeling even more empty and alone. Very bad things happen when people feel that lost.

I honestly do try to apply the Wiccan Rede in my everyday life. I make it a point to try to be aware of how my actions will affect others, and reconsider my choices if I know they will have a negative effect on someone else. Ask a friend of mine who has to endure my lunchtime bemoanings (minus my maple macchiato...go to hell Starbucks). I actually fret over whether a decision I am making will negatively affect my Unholy boss - a true sociopath who has treated me like human waste for years. I fret because even if someone is treating me that badly, it is still not up to me to 'stick it to him'. As much as I would absolutely, completey, with every single molecule of my being, LOVE to see this monster fall flat on his face and die a horribly slow, agonizing, painful and lonely death, that's not up to me to make happen. What I have learned from my 'religion' has taught me to focus on those things that I can change and affect - in a positive way. The universe will just have to purge the Unholy One on its own.

So for all of you people that think your version of a homogenized planet is the only way to go, consider yourselves lucky...had I not been allowed to discover my spiritual path, and been smart enough to incorporate it in my daily life, I'd surely have found other lethal ways to deal with stupid fucks like you.

My Kid May Be A Bastard, But Check Out My Huge TV!

Life is about making choices. The choices you are faced with may not be the ones you want, but hey, life is also not a bowl of fuckin cherries.

When it comes to family, especially your own children, choosing them over material desires should be a no-brainer. However, it is becoming increasingly obvious these days parents have decided that the latest and greatest SUV and 80 inch plasma tv's are more important than their duties to their children.

America is based on consumerism...eat it up, use it up, throw it away, buy more, spend more, abuse your credit, die bankrupt and alone in a rat-infested nursing home (cuz lord knows after the way you raised your kids, they won't be changing your shitty diapers!). Having the most possessions, while more than likely having the most debt, is how we gauge wealth. We borrow more and save less. Spend spend spend!!!

If you want to live this way, and you are either single or a couple who has no intention of having children, by all means, ruin your financial future and die in squalor. I will giggle myself all the way to the bank. But if you are planning on having children in the future, do us ALL a huge favor, plan your finances first. Without taking this *critical* step as a parent, you have done your kids and the rest of society a monumental disservice. There are two reasons that children are being raised by television, video games, and daycare workers making $10 an hour...

One, you are so completely arrogant and needy and totally lacking in any parental skills, you actually believe that by having massive amounts of high-priced crap (which do nothing but keep you chained to a lifetime of debt) your kids are going to magically have this fantastic childhood that will prepare them for the demands of adulthood. You think that by filling your house with expensive, neighbor-envy-worthy items, you are showing your child how much you love him. You are a great parent who will spare no expense to ensure that he has an I-pod, cell phone, x-box, guitar hero, laptops, bicycles, motor scooters...so he knows that more than anything you LOVE him.

The reality is, your kid thinks you suck. You suck because you aren't giving him what he so desperately needs...a fucking PARENT. All of those nifty electronic toys are not going to show him how to be a man, how to succeed in his chosen profession, how to eventually grow to be a great husband and father himself. He is growing up alone, his idiot friends are his life teachers, and he has a self-indulged, expectation of entitlement attitude that makes me want to scream! He has no idea what the real world is like, he thinks that just by existing, he should have everything he damn well pleases, and has no concept of working for what you want. These horrible children have no sense of community or responsibilty toward their fellow man, and they are quite confident their shit don't stink. Thanks a lot Mom and Dad of the year...stellar job!!

I grew up with two parents. My mother stayed home until I was in first grade and then worked part time for a few years after that. My dad worked a regular 8-5 job downtown, and was home by six every night. We had rules, we had chores, we had allowances, and we had responsibility. We also had the time of our lives. I look back on my summers as a kid and I think to myself, will my children get to experience anything that kick ass?? Once school was out, summer was a never ending free-for-all on our block. (Back then, on any given block, there were at least 20 kids out at all times, and parents felt perfectly safe knowing the other moms, dads, aunts, grandparents, neighbors were keeping an eye on your kids). We would get up in the morning, have breakfast while watching the Bozo Show or whatever else wasn't the morning news, and then we threw on our clothes and headed outside. We would start off with playing some of the usual games, tag, running bases, stickball, anything that got our little bodies sweating. As more kids poured out of their houses, we would get organized. We played army, street patrol, cops, anything you could think of that involved strategic use of our block boundaries. We had water balloon and squirt gun fights (mine and my brothers' was often an old Windex bottle filled with water), we would go to the park across the alley and play space invaders, we had contests to see who could sprint the farthest, climb a tree or hop a fence the fastest. We would take the dollar our mom left us and walk to the end of the block and get sno-cones from the drug store, we raided each others houses for popsicles and kool-aid. Once we were allowed a couple extra blocks in our boundary, we rode bikes until our legs turned to mush. Summer nights were spent outside, parents gathered up on front porches, all of us counting down the minutes we had to finish up ghost in the graveyard before the sun went completely down, signaling that we would have to go inside soon. Moms and dads would start calling us in from the porch or frontroom window...we would try to negotiate just fifteen more minutes...and then it was bath and bed. We got up the next day and did it all over again. Summers seemed to stretch on for years when we were little, and there was never a lack of something to do. We were fully capable of entertaining ourselves, and we did it without any electronic device whatsoever.

As you have surmised by now, we didn't have a lot of money. We lived in an apartment, had one old ass car, my dad took the train to work, and we clipped coupons and re-used anything we possibly could. I took a lot of hand-me-downs for clothes, we got toys on birthdays and holidays, and that was about it. But none of that mattered. I look back and remember that I had a dad who was always home for dinner (imagine, everyone eating together every day!), who was always up for a game of wrestling, or playing Life for the billionth time, who always read me a book before bed, who took me to the library every Saturday and did magic tricks and face painting just for fun. I had a mom who made my lunches, and spent hours putting fifty braids in my hair so I could have 'waves', and took me to the park and pushed me on the swing and hung from the monkey bars with me, who let me do her hair and dress her up for 'dates' with my dad. I could fill a book with the amazing memories I have from my childhood, and my heart gets full whenever I think about them. I remember feeling so loved, so cared for, and so important.

My parents sacrificed a lot of things I am sure they wanted...a car that wouldn't break down on them, vacations in the summer, dinner at a restaurant that didn't have coloring pages for placemats..they sacrificed these things because family was more important. Their children were more important. It wasn't easy on the finances for my mom to stop working and stay home with us, but they managed.

Which brings me to my second reason children are being raised as self-indulgent monsters completely lacking any moral compass or compassion...women who want it ALL. They want the big house, the great car, the career, and of course, the money. They also want the husband and the children. They don't want to be saddled to the archaic stereotype that women have to be home in order to have a family. No, they can use daycare, nannies, and of course, bunches of money to take care of the kids. These fuckin women astound me. Do they not understand that it isn't about just having kids, it is about RAISING them? And the job of raising a child should be, by far, the most important and most time-consuming job there is. If you are spending 10 or 12 hours a day at work, how can you possibly be putting in the time necessary to raise your children??

I don't even give a shit if it is the mother OR the father choosing to stay home, one of them needs to keep their ass in the house and make sure they don't raise any more kids that I would like to put through a wall because they can't stop behaving like little bastards in public in the desperate hope of getting some attention from their crappy parents. If you are both career-minded individuals, and neither of you are willing to give that up, then sorry, you need to reconsider your family planning. I am so fucking sick and tired of women who think that feminism was born so they could pursue a career, squeeze out a baby, hand that baby over to someone I wouldn't pay to raise my fucking plastic fern, and then go back to their career as if their lives have not COMPLETELY CHANGED. I know plenty of guys that would be thrilled to be stay at home dads, but I also know they are not the norm. Most men still earn more, and most men don't have the desire to be the primary caregiver. If you married an idiot like that, well....that's for another time. Again, if your husband is earning more than you, perhaps you need to put your desire for a family ahead of your career goals and take off the next five or six years. The simple fact is that you can't, no matter how much you whine, have it all.

Most of us are middle-income folks, paying our bills, saving what we can. If we want a family, corners have to be cut. Perhaps it means moving into a house with a lesser mortgage, or perhaps renting. And in this ridiculous real estate market, renting is not a bad idea at all. Perhaps it means cutting out the 'extras' you take for granted...eating out, excessive shopping, gadgets you don't really need, gas-guzzling cars you can't really afford, etc. Yes, it is an adjustment, yes, it is a sacrifice. But it is for your CHILDREN! What in the world could possibly take precedence over the well-being and caring of your own flesh and blood?? If people got back to the basics, stopped over-indulging their kids with needless crap they won't even care about next year, there is no reason they couldn't be stay at home parents.

The experiences I had in my childhood are absolutely priceless...loving parents who taught me respect, discipline, compassion, the value of money, the value of earning what you want, and how to stand on my own two feet. I learned that I was more important to them than anything else in the world, and I could count on them 100% if I ever needed anything at all.

Ask any kid today if they would give up their 50" flat screen and xbox for that.