Friday night, Momma's seriously late night at work, the boys are in bed, and I don't hear the sound of Big Brother rolling around fighting bad guys and kicking the wall. It's a pretty common ocurrence with him, as he spends most days fighting bad guys so why not go to sleep fighting them some more? I'm guessing he actually went to sleep fairly quickly tonight.
I'm enjoying a Bridgeport IPA and realizing that it's much too quiet. Momma and I spent last night listening to the different bands that will be playing in a few short hours at Ska Weekend. We're taking the boys and want to be prepared, so we've made a list. The listening though is all on Myspace, so it's one song at a time, then I have to go back there from whatever I'm doing while the song plays and play the next song. What this means is that I hear a song, then realize it's quiet and the cycle just keeps on turning, turning, turning.
But all that work is for "the list." We have a three part list consisting of bands that we are definitely going to see, bands that we may or may not work in depending on the schedule and finally the bands that we don't need to bother to see, as in "Oh-my-fucking-god!!! is this emo ska? Who the fuck thought that would be okay?" With this list and the schedule, we'll be able to navigate the several stages that will be set up in the Old City.
Which brings us to the Old City. I love the Old City, and my best jobs here have been there, though I may not have said so at the time. The whole staying at home thing being how it is, I don't make it out of the house so often these days, but when I do, if I don't have other plans, it's the place I'm drawn to, for better or worse. One of the places I worked is Patrick Sullivans. If your interested, follow the link. Rumor has it that the bullet holes are still in the wall. They could be. Oddly enough, I just realized that the pint glass my beer is in is from Sullivans. Small world?
And another one of those "why's it so quiet?" moments before I'm back to the Myspace page to play the next song. I'm really excited about the show tomorrow. I know I've gone on about it some lately, but it's such a huge deal. It's a really huge show in the world of ska music. It's also showing one of those growing up things for me personally, something I've just realized about this particular show. Not so many years ago I'd already know about many of these bands. As it is now we've had to decide based on 2 to 4 songs how much we want to see many of these bands. There are a couple of bands that I've wanted to see for years, so it's that much more exciting.
Here are some Myspace links to a band or two. If you aren't familiar with Myspace, clicking the link will take you to the band's page and after a few moments, music will begin to make you happier as the sounds of the ska caress your brain in a mixture of Jamaica and America and England.
The Pietasters alone would be a great show for me personally. King Django I've seen once before, in Knoxville oddly enough. He does all kinds of things, sort of a renaissance man. Deals Gone Bad is one of the bands I'm not really familiar with, but the songs I've heard are really good, better than average. I'll take a couple of extra dollars for a cd from them for sure.
And this post has taken me an entire beer to write. I went a little link crazy because it's so damn fun. Maybe I just end the night here with some dub to lull me into a fall sense of sleepiness. I'm stopping here before I get into why I think that ska and dub music were the parents of hip hop/rap music. It's true, but it's not for tonight. Actually, by the time most people read this, both of you, it might already be tomorrow, which is Saturday.
As per usual, more beer, a smoke and thee my love.
Friday, April 28, 2006
new toy
I do in fact own a few records, real vinyl records. Some of them are fairly new, while others certainly predate better technology. I don't often listen to my records as the turntable is kind of a pain to deal with. Okay, it's actually easy, but I'm lazy as shit, so . . .
So this LINK YO will take you to the new USB turntable. It's not that expensive really, certainly not as pricey as buying all these same albums on cd.
So, will I get one? Probably not, sadly enough. My wish list for things that I don't actually need is long enough as it is, and the canoe gets purchased first. Now I should probably start saving some money for that canoe.
So this LINK YO will take you to the new USB turntable. It's not that expensive really, certainly not as pricey as buying all these same albums on cd.
So, will I get one? Probably not, sadly enough. My wish list for things that I don't actually need is long enough as it is, and the canoe gets purchased first. Now I should probably start saving some money for that canoe.
Thursday, April 27, 2006
Momma was on the telly
A couple of weeks back, at a practice of the Hard Knox Roller Girls, a crew from a local television station did some filming. Another crew was there last week. The stories were finally aired today. I walk by in the background at some point holding The Boy while Momma is the one with the blond in the front of her brown hair. Notice the number of shirt fronts that are blurred. Silly prudes!
LINK YO!
LINK YO!
Dear UnRev. Jim
I think the Rev. Jim is an absolute jackass. I will call him names here, because I hear he likes that. He likes it so much that he sees it when it doesn't actually exist. And even when it does exist, name calling and cussing do not inherently invalidate an arguement. Just because his virginally christian eyes and ears are so loathe to see/hear cusswords does not negate truth or value of the words around the cuss words.
I give as an example, my version of a passage from the Declaration of Independence.
Maybe it isn't as pleasant to read. But it makes the point. I'm glad that the founding fathers were as literate as they were because the documents that we hold dear have a certain zing that I probably couldn't have come up with.
We need however to get back to Rev. Jim. He states his arguement, assure us that it's the absolute right arguement and the only real truth. If anyone argues with him, he ignores them. If anyone refutes his point, he ignores them. If a blogger does either, he ignores them. I'm sure he knows who is linking to him and reads as he has mentioned that he's been called a dick and an ass and a motherfucker. I should also add that he doesn't really ignore them, he just doesn't present a reasonable arguement and doesn't involve himself in any meaningful dialogue. Instead he gets fussy that he had to read unpleasantness, attaches all cusswords used to all homeschoolers ever, assigns us the designation of racist, and finally he, without trying to discuss the issue, assures us all that it is we homeschoolers who won't compete in his arena.
Hey, Jim, add mytical superstitious uptight turd on stick to the list of things you've been called. Also add lying closeminded assmonkey. And as a cherry on top, I will also say that you are a big old meany poopoo head.
Note, Rev. Jim, that only I have called you these names. Note also, Rev. Jim, that this post in no way is of or about homeschooling. I'm not bothering to argue that one with you. I will argue however whether you are or are not the aforementioned poopoo head, but that is all I will discuss with you. As well as not about homeschooling, this post is not representative of any opinions other than my own. I do not speak for homeschoolers or homeschooling, so the old "lump 'em all together" trick won't work here.
I give as an example, my version of a passage from the Declaration of Independence.
You bunch of fuckin' Loyalists can all go straight to hell. We in America have decided that we want no more of your bullshit, that each and every one of us has a godamn right to pursue the life that most suit us and the fucking liberty to make ourselves happy. Fuck you King George. If you try to take our rights we'll more than fuck you up as these aren't rights we've decided you can give or take. If you don't like it you can suck it.
Maybe it isn't as pleasant to read. But it makes the point. I'm glad that the founding fathers were as literate as they were because the documents that we hold dear have a certain zing that I probably couldn't have come up with.
We need however to get back to Rev. Jim. He states his arguement, assure us that it's the absolute right arguement and the only real truth. If anyone argues with him, he ignores them. If anyone refutes his point, he ignores them. If a blogger does either, he ignores them. I'm sure he knows who is linking to him and reads as he has mentioned that he's been called a dick and an ass and a motherfucker. I should also add that he doesn't really ignore them, he just doesn't present a reasonable arguement and doesn't involve himself in any meaningful dialogue. Instead he gets fussy that he had to read unpleasantness, attaches all cusswords used to all homeschoolers ever, assigns us the designation of racist, and finally he, without trying to discuss the issue, assures us all that it is we homeschoolers who won't compete in his arena.
Hey, Jim, add mytical superstitious uptight turd on stick to the list of things you've been called. Also add lying closeminded assmonkey. And as a cherry on top, I will also say that you are a big old meany poopoo head.
Note, Rev. Jim, that only I have called you these names. Note also, Rev. Jim, that this post in no way is of or about homeschooling. I'm not bothering to argue that one with you. I will argue however whether you are or are not the aforementioned poopoo head, but that is all I will discuss with you. As well as not about homeschooling, this post is not representative of any opinions other than my own. I do not speak for homeschoolers or homeschooling, so the old "lump 'em all together" trick won't work here.
etouffee
Myrtle asked for a recipe for etouffee. I basically use the recipe from the Joy of Cooking. That book is generally the first thing I check when searching for a recipe or info about an ingredient. I do have better sources for ingredient checking, mostly online, but I have a certain love for the JoC. I also have a lifelong crush on Julia Child. Because so much of what she did revolves around French food, she isn't as good a general source as the JoC.
You could easily leave out all the meat, increase the overall amount of vegetables and make this vegetarian or even vegan if you omit the butter as well. I can't think of any vegetables to use to substitute for the meat that wouldn't greatly change the dish, but some fake sausage (blech!) may not hurt.
But I eat meat, so we'll start with the chicken. You can cut it into serving pieces or just quarter it. I like to pull the skin off now because it's going to get tossed anyway. This also reduces the amount of chicken fat that ends up in the final dish. Rub you chicken with a mixture of
1 tsp paprika
1 tsp thyme, dry
1/2 tsp basil, dry
1/2 tsp salt
1/2 tsp pepper
1/4 tsp ground red pepper
Dredge the chicken in about 1 cup of flour. Heat a pan on the stove with some olive oil, about medium high, brown it well on both sides. As the chicken is about ready to remove, turn the heat down to a little below medium. You're going to make a roux next and you don't want the pan too hot or the bottom will burn.
A roux is just a mixture of fat and flour. You will want about a 3 Tbs of each. If there is that much fat in the pan, use it. I use a combination of olive oil and butter. Omitting the butter is fine if you want to use olive oil. Keep the heat low enough so that this doesn't burn. You do want it to cook until it's nice and dark brown which could take up to 20 minutes. Note that most cooking that involves a roux will NOT require that you cook it nearly this dark.
As the roux starts to get really dark, add
1 onion diced
1 red pepper diced
1/2 green pepper diced
1/2 cup celery diced
1/2 cup sausage diced
cook till the vegetables are a little soft and add
garlic
1/4 tsp thyme
1/4 tsp sage, crumbled
after about a minute add
2 cups liquid
3 Tbs tomato paste
1 Tbs worcestershire sauce
hot sauce to taste
Bring this to a boil and turn heat down to a simmer. Return the chicken to the pan and cover pan with lid. Let it simmer for 20-30 minutes, until the chicken is cooked through. Remove the chicken when it finishes cooking. If the sauce is too thick, turn the heat up and reduce it till it's where you want it. Don't thicken it too much as it will thicken as it sits, and it will be especially thick as leftovers the next day. It shouldn't need to much thickening.
Serve over steamed rice. I learned personally that if I pick the chicken, it's a shit ton easier to reheat as leftovers. Reheating chicken on the bone is a pain in the ass. I prefer not to mix the chicken back into the sauce because, if it's cooked well, the chicken with the spice mix cooked onto it really fucking rocks.
You could easily leave out all the meat, increase the overall amount of vegetables and make this vegetarian or even vegan if you omit the butter as well. I can't think of any vegetables to use to substitute for the meat that wouldn't greatly change the dish, but some fake sausage (blech!) may not hurt.
But I eat meat, so we'll start with the chicken. You can cut it into serving pieces or just quarter it. I like to pull the skin off now because it's going to get tossed anyway. This also reduces the amount of chicken fat that ends up in the final dish. Rub you chicken with a mixture of
1 tsp paprika
1 tsp thyme, dry
1/2 tsp basil, dry
1/2 tsp salt
1/2 tsp pepper
1/4 tsp ground red pepper
Dredge the chicken in about 1 cup of flour. Heat a pan on the stove with some olive oil, about medium high, brown it well on both sides. As the chicken is about ready to remove, turn the heat down to a little below medium. You're going to make a roux next and you don't want the pan too hot or the bottom will burn.
A roux is just a mixture of fat and flour. You will want about a 3 Tbs of each. If there is that much fat in the pan, use it. I use a combination of olive oil and butter. Omitting the butter is fine if you want to use olive oil. Keep the heat low enough so that this doesn't burn. You do want it to cook until it's nice and dark brown which could take up to 20 minutes. Note that most cooking that involves a roux will NOT require that you cook it nearly this dark.
As the roux starts to get really dark, add
1 onion diced
1 red pepper diced
1/2 green pepper diced
1/2 cup celery diced
1/2 cup sausage diced
I usually use kielbasa as at's always easy to find. The JoC also suggests smoked ham
cook till the vegetables are a little soft and add
garlic
I use 3-5 cloves depending on size because I like a lot of garlic. 2-3 would be more normal.
1/4 tsp thyme
1/4 tsp sage, crumbled
after about a minute add
2 cups liquid
You can use water, but . . .JoC calls for chicken stock. I've used vegetable stock as well as half vegetable stock and half chicken stock. You could use beer. You could use 1/4 to 1/2 cup of wine and some water.
3 Tbs tomato paste
1 Tbs worcestershire sauce
hot sauce to taste
Bring this to a boil and turn heat down to a simmer. Return the chicken to the pan and cover pan with lid. Let it simmer for 20-30 minutes, until the chicken is cooked through. Remove the chicken when it finishes cooking. If the sauce is too thick, turn the heat up and reduce it till it's where you want it. Don't thicken it too much as it will thicken as it sits, and it will be especially thick as leftovers the next day. It shouldn't need to much thickening.
Serve over steamed rice. I learned personally that if I pick the chicken, it's a shit ton easier to reheat as leftovers. Reheating chicken on the bone is a pain in the ass. I prefer not to mix the chicken back into the sauce because, if it's cooked well, the chicken with the spice mix cooked onto it really fucking rocks.
Wednesday, April 26, 2006
really don't feel like cutting the chicken
I need to cut up a chicken so that I can make supper. I'm making etouffee at some point tonight, and I'm looking forward to it, but that damn chicken sits in the refrigerator waiting. And I really just don't feel like cutting a chicken.
It's not like it's that hard really. Yank her spine out , cut through to the joints, break them and cut. It's a really simple job if a bit messy.
It's much cheaper than buying the already cut up chicken, especially when you add that little bit of stock from all the extra bits you get. If I'd cut the chicken up earlier, I'd have that little bit of stock already to go in the damn etouffee. I didn't, so I don't.
I've got the recycling straightened up, the counters wiped and even washed the pile of knives and the wok. I suck for leaving the wok days at a time after using it. It's tiny pain in the ass to wash versus the pans that CAN go in the dishwasher. I'm just being lazy by doing needed housework to postpone the inevitable chicken demolition. That's extra sad that I have enough housework to do that.
At this point I'm just going to wait a bit more. As soon as 4:00 hits, I can listen to NPR in the kitchen and be happy cutting the chicken. Between now and then I will yell at the boys for no good reason, squeeze out a fart and smoke a cigarette. I also think that I already need a beer.
It's not like it's that hard really. Yank her spine out , cut through to the joints, break them and cut. It's a really simple job if a bit messy.
It's much cheaper than buying the already cut up chicken, especially when you add that little bit of stock from all the extra bits you get. If I'd cut the chicken up earlier, I'd have that little bit of stock already to go in the damn etouffee. I didn't, so I don't.
I've got the recycling straightened up, the counters wiped and even washed the pile of knives and the wok. I suck for leaving the wok days at a time after using it. It's tiny pain in the ass to wash versus the pans that CAN go in the dishwasher. I'm just being lazy by doing needed housework to postpone the inevitable chicken demolition. That's extra sad that I have enough housework to do that.
At this point I'm just going to wait a bit more. As soon as 4:00 hits, I can listen to NPR in the kitchen and be happy cutting the chicken. Between now and then I will yell at the boys for no good reason, squeeze out a fart and smoke a cigarette. I also think that I already need a beer.
Tuesday, April 25, 2006
one sore sob
Yes, I am indeed one sore son of a bitch. Between playing soccer on Sunday and yesterday's yard work, I'm just about pitiful.
We'll begin with Sunday. We had exactly eleven players show up while the other team had a nice batch of subs. In addition, they had a couple of players who seemed to think this was a professional, international match. I heard a couple of my teammates complain about the elbows, but I thought nothing of it myself. It's one thing to hide the elbow from the ref, but you've got to be good to for the opposing player to not notice till after the play. Or maybe I just play so hard that I don't notice.
Either way, the shot to the hip started hurting pretty quickly after the play, but I thought nothing of it then. I realized later that I'd been privy to one of those elbows, how else to explain it? It quickly turned into a really nasty bruise that will be the envy of Momma's roller derby practice tonight.
As Sunday turned to night and then Monday, I began finding new hurty places that aren't normal soccer wear. These, I'm guessing, are more elbows. They aren't bruising like the hip, but they are random spots, halfway down my right forearm, the back of my left elbow, for instance. Having just checked the elbow, it is bruised, lending the elbow story more credence. These could only have been cheap shots.
The yard work had to be done, and I've finally finished another round of the hellish raking that my procrastination awarded me. We can put yard waste in our ditch in front of the house and know that every other Tuesday, a truck will come by and cart it away. During mostly leaf season, it's a truck with a huge vacuum hose, the sucky truck. During mostly dead stick weather, the truck sports a giant claw.
The vacuum truck sucked up most of the leaves, but plenty more sat at the bottom of the ditch collecting water and worms. My most recent raking episodes, all yard based, were mostly removed from the ditch as well. Yesterday was the day to rake the ditch itself, pulling all the accumulation from one end to the other. I'm leaving next Tuesday's claw truck no reason not to take all the crap this time. After raking the ditch, I mowed all of the front the side and most of the close half of the back.
Then I heard a sound that is more and more familiar each year. First is the kachunk of the blade spinning into something that's not grass followed by the dead silence as the mower quits working. And yes, I've bent yet another mower blade.
So, I can feel each and every muscle in my back as it screams at me to stop getting involved in more activity that my sad body can take. My hands feel deformed from the rake and the mower, but somehow, possibly through magic, there are no new blisters. There's also the place on my ankle, the ever popular soccer play where you and the opponent kick the ball/each other at the same time. I could go on and on.
We'll begin with Sunday. We had exactly eleven players show up while the other team had a nice batch of subs. In addition, they had a couple of players who seemed to think this was a professional, international match. I heard a couple of my teammates complain about the elbows, but I thought nothing of it myself. It's one thing to hide the elbow from the ref, but you've got to be good to for the opposing player to not notice till after the play. Or maybe I just play so hard that I don't notice.
Either way, the shot to the hip started hurting pretty quickly after the play, but I thought nothing of it then. I realized later that I'd been privy to one of those elbows, how else to explain it? It quickly turned into a really nasty bruise that will be the envy of Momma's roller derby practice tonight.
As Sunday turned to night and then Monday, I began finding new hurty places that aren't normal soccer wear. These, I'm guessing, are more elbows. They aren't bruising like the hip, but they are random spots, halfway down my right forearm, the back of my left elbow, for instance. Having just checked the elbow, it is bruised, lending the elbow story more credence. These could only have been cheap shots.
The yard work had to be done, and I've finally finished another round of the hellish raking that my procrastination awarded me. We can put yard waste in our ditch in front of the house and know that every other Tuesday, a truck will come by and cart it away. During mostly leaf season, it's a truck with a huge vacuum hose, the sucky truck. During mostly dead stick weather, the truck sports a giant claw.
The vacuum truck sucked up most of the leaves, but plenty more sat at the bottom of the ditch collecting water and worms. My most recent raking episodes, all yard based, were mostly removed from the ditch as well. Yesterday was the day to rake the ditch itself, pulling all the accumulation from one end to the other. I'm leaving next Tuesday's claw truck no reason not to take all the crap this time. After raking the ditch, I mowed all of the front the side and most of the close half of the back.
Then I heard a sound that is more and more familiar each year. First is the kachunk of the blade spinning into something that's not grass followed by the dead silence as the mower quits working. And yes, I've bent yet another mower blade.
So, I can feel each and every muscle in my back as it screams at me to stop getting involved in more activity that my sad body can take. My hands feel deformed from the rake and the mower, but somehow, possibly through magic, there are no new blisters. There's also the place on my ankle, the ever popular soccer play where you and the opponent kick the ball/each other at the same time. I could go on and on.
Monday, April 24, 2006
new picture
I found a new picture of Momma and me. I didn't think I had such an accurate representation of us, so when I saw this, I knew I had to show the world.
this crappy century
Yeah, this is post number 100! whee . . . I give you cake, ice cream and something to drink.
What more could you want from me? I can only give you my best, and if this is my best . . .
Wait, this isn't about me. This is for the people, the little people, the ones who made me what I am today.
Saturday, April 22, 2006
stuff n' things
This will be post number 99 for me. I'm sure that I'll throw a party when I get around to 100, but that's for another time.
Many things suck more, but there is a special sucking involved with knocking your pint glass against your tooth, and it's the same with bottles. I try to stick to glasses though.
Ska Weekend is coming up in now less than a week. We are all kinds of excited. Momma, checking on tickets, got us a really sweet deal. She went to the Ska Weekend message board to ask about kids tickets. Ticket prices are $15 plus 5 cans of food as it is a fundraiser for a local food bank. This is the fourth (I think) year that the show has happened, and it's all thanks to one guy that must seriously bust his ass to put this together. It's big enough, that he obviously has some aid, but it's mostly his deal from what I can tell.
I don't think he had considered young kids when he told Momma that "if you can walk, you need a ticket." I can totally see his point, but I don't think he had reason to even think of our point till Momma brought it up. So he lowered the price for the 10 and under set and assured us of a special ticket price. That's just awesome! We were afraid we'd miss because $60 is a shit ton, and though we missed the very first show, we've attended each one since. This is an amazing day of bands if you like the ska music. And not only do we like the ska, but the fucking Pietasters are playing!
The Cobras, Big Brother's soccer team, played a great game today. It was a little crazy having missed two weeks, one for rain and the next for Easter. Many of them missed some of the practices as well. Then we get that good old deep south steam bath of a day with the sun beating down on the sodden fields.
Depending on the weather, I get mine tomorrow, which is technically now today. I'm going to hurt Monday as I haven't worked out for shit in ages. But I really can't wait to get on the field. It's another interleague game which I only mention to extend this paragraph.
It's late as shit, and The Boy is still up while Big Brother lounges in a tub full of water that is tepid at best. I need to harangue him out or pull the plug while at the same time get The Boy read to and in the bed too.
Many things suck more, but there is a special sucking involved with knocking your pint glass against your tooth, and it's the same with bottles. I try to stick to glasses though.
Ska Weekend is coming up in now less than a week. We are all kinds of excited. Momma, checking on tickets, got us a really sweet deal. She went to the Ska Weekend message board to ask about kids tickets. Ticket prices are $15 plus 5 cans of food as it is a fundraiser for a local food bank. This is the fourth (I think) year that the show has happened, and it's all thanks to one guy that must seriously bust his ass to put this together. It's big enough, that he obviously has some aid, but it's mostly his deal from what I can tell.
I don't think he had considered young kids when he told Momma that "if you can walk, you need a ticket." I can totally see his point, but I don't think he had reason to even think of our point till Momma brought it up. So he lowered the price for the 10 and under set and assured us of a special ticket price. That's just awesome! We were afraid we'd miss because $60 is a shit ton, and though we missed the very first show, we've attended each one since. This is an amazing day of bands if you like the ska music. And not only do we like the ska, but the fucking Pietasters are playing!
The Cobras, Big Brother's soccer team, played a great game today. It was a little crazy having missed two weeks, one for rain and the next for Easter. Many of them missed some of the practices as well. Then we get that good old deep south steam bath of a day with the sun beating down on the sodden fields.
Depending on the weather, I get mine tomorrow, which is technically now today. I'm going to hurt Monday as I haven't worked out for shit in ages. But I really can't wait to get on the field. It's another interleague game which I only mention to extend this paragraph.
It's late as shit, and The Boy is still up while Big Brother lounges in a tub full of water that is tepid at best. I need to harangue him out or pull the plug while at the same time get The Boy read to and in the bed too.
Monday, April 17, 2006
first day's schedule
Today, I actually tried to implement the vaguest of schedules for the day. I actually can't say that it worked especially well, but there's always tomorrow.
I haven't asked very much of Big Brother is ages, so he's gotten used to not doing much of anything. I don't want to spring all of this on him and further complicate all this. But I can't help feeling I've been way too lax.
I've also been pretty lazy personally, so most of my working on is going to be to get myself to do things, set an example. I did fold some clothes and put them up, but I didn't fold all the laundry yet, and I could easily wash at least two more loads which of course I would then need to fold and put away.
I got some dishes done, but that pretty much had to happen. I don't know how Momma got to the sink this morning, but she managed to get the coffee made. I could possibly do another load of dishes just based on what's collected today.
We did no school anything, though I have some stuff in mind and had actually planned a couple of things. Again, I don't want to overwhelm the poor kid, and I don't want us jumping into too much stuff only to give up because we didn't plan. I have a personal history of great ideas that I didn't keep up.
I guess I need to go for The Boy is "huuuuuuuungry." Of course he knows that he has plenty of Easter candy still, so he wants some of that. I'd say candy may have been half of his diet today. Cereal for breakfast, Easter dinner leftovers for lunch, M&M's, Robins Eggs, jelly beans, a tiny bit of pork fried rice, and now he wants more candy.
I haven't asked very much of Big Brother is ages, so he's gotten used to not doing much of anything. I don't want to spring all of this on him and further complicate all this. But I can't help feeling I've been way too lax.
I've also been pretty lazy personally, so most of my working on is going to be to get myself to do things, set an example. I did fold some clothes and put them up, but I didn't fold all the laundry yet, and I could easily wash at least two more loads which of course I would then need to fold and put away.
I got some dishes done, but that pretty much had to happen. I don't know how Momma got to the sink this morning, but she managed to get the coffee made. I could possibly do another load of dishes just based on what's collected today.
We did no school anything, though I have some stuff in mind and had actually planned a couple of things. Again, I don't want to overwhelm the poor kid, and I don't want us jumping into too much stuff only to give up because we didn't plan. I have a personal history of great ideas that I didn't keep up.
I guess I need to go for The Boy is "huuuuuuuungry." Of course he knows that he has plenty of Easter candy still, so he wants some of that. I'd say candy may have been half of his diet today. Cereal for breakfast, Easter dinner leftovers for lunch, M&M's, Robins Eggs, jelly beans, a tiny bit of pork fried rice, and now he wants more candy.
anti-organization=pro-mediocrity
Yesterday was Easter, so I stuffed myself full of ham to celebrate a religion that began with the Jews. How proper.
Frankie decided to post about her amazingly well run household just so that the rest of us could see how great she is and how suckful we are. Okay, actually, she has better reasons, and it's pretty funny that she did post about her household. I've been thinking for quite a while that one of my issues is about order and schedules. Her post has pushed me just enough to finally follow through a little.
I'm being totally honest when I explain that most of our days are spent staring into screens. I don't just mean this in number of days but also in amount of each day. I hate it and it's driving me and the boys crazy. They're currently fine with too much television, but we all need to change this before it gets worse.
The house is going straight to hell, and I'm tired of the mess, the confusion, the wrestling match to achieve even making a cup of coffee in the kitchen.
So I'm going to play with some of Frankie's ideas. I kind of like to actually schedule things, when I'm not too lazy to do so, so I won't steal her idea outright. But I do need to list all those things that we want done. Too many things just get forgotten or put off otherwise.
In addition to being tired personally of the mess and the clutter and the lack of motivation, I need to show the boys a better way. I don't want them to think that life is just t.v., nor do I want them to be used to living surrounded by mess. We also need to get back to reasonable bedtimes for everyone so that we can more easily wake up in the mornings.
I've rambled for long enough, and I haven't even touched on education. That's a subject I'm still not sure how I want to approach. But we're going to approach it more than we have lately.
I can hear the boys stirring, and they'll want to wake up and head straight for the t.v. probably. But that's just too bad. Today is the first day of scheduling and accomplishing. Organization and accomplishment are the goals, the buzzwords of the day/week/year.
Frankie decided to post about her amazingly well run household just so that the rest of us could see how great she is and how suckful we are. Okay, actually, she has better reasons, and it's pretty funny that she did post about her household. I've been thinking for quite a while that one of my issues is about order and schedules. Her post has pushed me just enough to finally follow through a little.
I'm being totally honest when I explain that most of our days are spent staring into screens. I don't just mean this in number of days but also in amount of each day. I hate it and it's driving me and the boys crazy. They're currently fine with too much television, but we all need to change this before it gets worse.
The house is going straight to hell, and I'm tired of the mess, the confusion, the wrestling match to achieve even making a cup of coffee in the kitchen.
So I'm going to play with some of Frankie's ideas. I kind of like to actually schedule things, when I'm not too lazy to do so, so I won't steal her idea outright. But I do need to list all those things that we want done. Too many things just get forgotten or put off otherwise.
In addition to being tired personally of the mess and the clutter and the lack of motivation, I need to show the boys a better way. I don't want them to think that life is just t.v., nor do I want them to be used to living surrounded by mess. We also need to get back to reasonable bedtimes for everyone so that we can more easily wake up in the mornings.
I've rambled for long enough, and I haven't even touched on education. That's a subject I'm still not sure how I want to approach. But we're going to approach it more than we have lately.
I can hear the boys stirring, and they'll want to wake up and head straight for the t.v. probably. But that's just too bad. Today is the first day of scheduling and accomplishing. Organization and accomplishment are the goals, the buzzwords of the day/week/year.
Saturday, April 15, 2006
kid-speak
Not only do kids say the darnedest things, but they also sometimes say the greatest things. This post is more about those darnedest things.
Example 1 was just moments ago. The boys are eating lunch, peanut butter and orange marmalade sandwiches. Big Brother eats his sandwiches in layers, peeling off the top slice of bread to eat first, then proceeding down through whatever toppings there are. With the pbj, there are no layers of course, so he eats it jelly side first then peanut butter side. I'm a little anal, so the peanut butter has to go on the bottom slice of bread.
Big Brother opened his sandwich and asked if that was honey on the bread. We've eaten a fair amount of pb and honey sandwiches lately because I've been lazy about scraping the multiplying jelly jars. I told him no, that it was orange marmalade, to which he replied with a shout, "OH YES!"
The Boy's humorous utterances lately are all the fault of Thomas the Tank Engine books. We haven't even read the books much lately and haven't had to watch videos several times a day lately either. The track pieces have been put away for some time, though put away just means in a clothes basket off to the side. A few of the engines are always floating about.
Lately, The Boy has been speaking as if life were all one big Thomas book. I asked him one day recently if he was okay, just randomly checking his well being. Me: "How are you doing?" The Boy: "Fine, said Thomas." Earlier today I asked him if he wanted a treat, and he answered, "Yes, said Cranky."
And now to add the freshest, even fewer moments ago. The boys are currently behind me trying to do handstands. Big Brother has been working at this for some time. The Boy wasn't doing well, so Big Brother gave him this advice, "You have to throw your hindquarters in the air."
If you read this and have kids, even if you never comment or seldom comment, you are now required to comment and leave a humorous phrase your child has uttered. Get to it now! All kids say funny things.
Example 1 was just moments ago. The boys are eating lunch, peanut butter and orange marmalade sandwiches. Big Brother eats his sandwiches in layers, peeling off the top slice of bread to eat first, then proceeding down through whatever toppings there are. With the pbj, there are no layers of course, so he eats it jelly side first then peanut butter side. I'm a little anal, so the peanut butter has to go on the bottom slice of bread.
Big Brother opened his sandwich and asked if that was honey on the bread. We've eaten a fair amount of pb and honey sandwiches lately because I've been lazy about scraping the multiplying jelly jars. I told him no, that it was orange marmalade, to which he replied with a shout, "OH YES!"
The Boy's humorous utterances lately are all the fault of Thomas the Tank Engine books. We haven't even read the books much lately and haven't had to watch videos several times a day lately either. The track pieces have been put away for some time, though put away just means in a clothes basket off to the side. A few of the engines are always floating about.
Lately, The Boy has been speaking as if life were all one big Thomas book. I asked him one day recently if he was okay, just randomly checking his well being. Me: "How are you doing?" The Boy: "Fine, said Thomas." Earlier today I asked him if he wanted a treat, and he answered, "Yes, said Cranky."
And now to add the freshest, even fewer moments ago. The boys are currently behind me trying to do handstands. Big Brother has been working at this for some time. The Boy wasn't doing well, so Big Brother gave him this advice, "You have to throw your hindquarters in the air."
If you read this and have kids, even if you never comment or seldom comment, you are now required to comment and leave a humorous phrase your child has uttered. Get to it now! All kids say funny things.
the neighbor kid
Our neighbors across the street are a seemingly nice family. I've never had any issue with them or their kids. Their dog is a little noisy and freakish, but that's a dog for you.
The kids, a boy and a girl, are older than my kids. I'd guess that they are probably both in the 12 to 15 range. I'm also not good at guessing ages, but I know neither of them drive yet.
So back to the neighbor kid, the boy, who I'd put at about 12 or 13 years old. He's getting his workout in for the day apparently. He's holding two small hand sized dumb bells above his head and running up and down the street.
I know it's only slightly humorous, and I certainly shouldn't make fun of the kid, even if he looks funny. Mostly it just looks really awkward. It looks like an exercise that someone made up so that he'd look funny as he ran.
The kids, a boy and a girl, are older than my kids. I'd guess that they are probably both in the 12 to 15 range. I'm also not good at guessing ages, but I know neither of them drive yet.
So back to the neighbor kid, the boy, who I'd put at about 12 or 13 years old. He's getting his workout in for the day apparently. He's holding two small hand sized dumb bells above his head and running up and down the street.
I know it's only slightly humorous, and I certainly shouldn't make fun of the kid, even if he looks funny. Mostly it just looks really awkward. It looks like an exercise that someone made up so that he'd look funny as he ran.
apostrophe
Earlier tonight I began writing but got stuck when I tried to use the apostrophe. Each time I pressed the key I got some sort of search bar appearing at the bottom of the screen. I didn't take the time to check it out and figure out what it was. I did check around the Blogger help menu, and I didn't find anything about it. I ended up closing window I think, and I never figured out what the problem was. I'm certain that whatever it was it's now gone. And considering the damn thing now works, I'm quite certain I might never know.
I'm sure whatever I was writing was a rant. Honestly, some days I can start any number of posts that don't end up being finished. I generally start an early proofread and realize that I'm off by a few degrees or am sounding like a jackass.
Don't be fooled here. I'm not at all afraid to sound like a jackass. I'm seriously okay with it. I would however like to at least seem as though I have a clue what I'm talking about. Sometimes I write shit that is actually too twisted and ranty even for me.
And all this now is because of that damn apostrophe. Oh how I now hate it. I can't help but expect the same treatment each time I need to indicate either possessive tense or a contraction, so I'm a little gunshy with my punctuation. And it's not so easy to not use the apostrophe, and you can believe that I spent a good minute and change thinking of ways to rewrite things so as not to need them. And try typing apostrophe a few times. That's about to send me straight into the beer.
But, I got a damn blog out of it. I've created more guilt for myself because I'm so dry and devoid of ideas that I made an entire post of the most ridiculous of topics. I've made a mole hill out of an ant fart. But I've done something.
YEA ME!
I'm sure whatever I was writing was a rant. Honestly, some days I can start any number of posts that don't end up being finished. I generally start an early proofread and realize that I'm off by a few degrees or am sounding like a jackass.
Don't be fooled here. I'm not at all afraid to sound like a jackass. I'm seriously okay with it. I would however like to at least seem as though I have a clue what I'm talking about. Sometimes I write shit that is actually too twisted and ranty even for me.
And all this now is because of that damn apostrophe. Oh how I now hate it. I can't help but expect the same treatment each time I need to indicate either possessive tense or a contraction, so I'm a little gunshy with my punctuation. And it's not so easy to not use the apostrophe, and you can believe that I spent a good minute and change thinking of ways to rewrite things so as not to need them. And try typing apostrophe a few times. That's about to send me straight into the beer.
But, I got a damn blog out of it. I've created more guilt for myself because I'm so dry and devoid of ideas that I made an entire post of the most ridiculous of topics. I've made a mole hill out of an ant fart. But I've done something.
YEA ME!
Tuesday, April 11, 2006
Becks in the US?
Found this interesting tidbit at Soccerway.com. It seems David Beckham is wanting to end his career here in the US. He already has a soccer academy in CA somewhere.
I'd love to see it happen personaly. We're are slowly becoming a real soccer nation which I see as beneficial to us in regards to how we are perceived throughout the world.
The World Series, other than one or two Canadian teams isn't anything more than a national celebration of a game, and the same applies to pretty much every other American sport. Why do we presume to call all of our sport championships world championships when in fact, most of the rest of the world doesn't even care?
Soccer on the other hand is the one truly international sport. With the coming World Cup in Germany, we have a chance to see what is truly a world championship event.
If you'd like to see your men's team, tonight, 4/11/06, they are playing Jamaica. The game will be aired on ESPN2 at 7:00 et. I'm skipping out on roller skating to stay home and watch this.
I'd love to see it happen personaly. We're are slowly becoming a real soccer nation which I see as beneficial to us in regards to how we are perceived throughout the world.
The World Series, other than one or two Canadian teams isn't anything more than a national celebration of a game, and the same applies to pretty much every other American sport. Why do we presume to call all of our sport championships world championships when in fact, most of the rest of the world doesn't even care?
Soccer on the other hand is the one truly international sport. With the coming World Cup in Germany, we have a chance to see what is truly a world championship event.
If you'd like to see your men's team, tonight, 4/11/06, they are playing Jamaica. The game will be aired on ESPN2 at 7:00 et. I'm skipping out on roller skating to stay home and watch this.
Monday, April 10, 2006
in their little bow ties
We'll begin today with my reasoning behind why I refer to the Nation of Islam as the bow tie nazis. Having grown up in Atlanta, I'm very familiar with the sight of, on random street corner, the small group of black men, usually in grey suits but always in bow ties. They always look so sharp standing there, ready at a moment's notice to approach the passersby with a copy of The Final Call. I'm guessing it's still the same paper. But why Nazis? Out of dozens of times that I've been sitting at an intersection peopled by NofI members, I have only once in my life been offered my own copy of The Final Call. The one copy I was offered was in Charlotte where Momma and I lived for a while. That was probably the one time I saw them in Charlotte. What made me different from the drivers that do get offered the paper?
I saw some more of the bow tie nazis (btn) yesterday. It was sort of refreshing, escpecially when I got that old look that I remembered so well. All it takes is for them to peak at my white face staring back at them, and they calmly step back onto the sidewalk and turn to each other. These guys were different though.
In Atlanta, I was used to seeing the btn regularly. Growing up in south Dekalb, you get used to being the only white person at the grocery store or the library. The btn were always young adults, possibly college students. Yesterday however, they were all 10-14 in my estimation. They wore the suits and the little bow ties, and they looked so adorable. One little boy held a megaphone, though he didn't use it while we were at the intersection. Additionaly, several of them carried pies in what looked like grocery store type packaging.
It isn't that I mind being snubbed. Honestly, I can take it, especially in light of our country's history regarding race relations. As well, religiously based racism even seems different to me than just outright ignorant asshole racism. Being from the South, I'm well aware of both. And while there is no difference in the evilness of either, the difference isn't there to discern between levels of evil so much as to suggest that some things are different for how they get there. This also gets back to being raised a certain way only to grow up and find that you are fighting with yourself over ideas that clash based on a grown up awareness versus childhood indoctrination.
I digress, so we'll get back to the story.
I was once again snubbed for my whiteness. This time, while still humorous, it was different because these were kids. They haven't yet had a chance to confront life as it is. I imagine the NofI to be similar to any other cult in that the kids don't know any different, are not at all aware of what "the world" truly is and what it truly means and holds for them. Many of these kids may never leave the NofI, just as many kids will never leave the JW's or the Baptist church, though many kids will. And full on indoctrination in the church only prepares kids to stay there and not for a real life in the real world.
I just realized that I'm making the old "S" word arguement against religion, which isn't what I mean to do. I can understand that parents are going to teach their kids their religion and want for their kids to grow up and stay true to that religion. I plan to teach my kids my own views on life. But I can look back to what I thought of "the world" as I grew up only to find myself questioning all I'd ever been taught. When I finally moved out and was really on my own, life wasn't so black and white as I'd been taught. Every didn't fit into either good and christian columns or bad and nonchristian columns. In fact no one person fits in any one column. Some christians lie and some atheist don't.
So as I watched the youngsters, the next gen of btn, I laughed and thought to myself that I was missing one more copy of someone's religious propaganda. That thought was closely followed by the thought that these kids, so young, already knew that if you checked, you wouldn't have to waist the steps if the car held white people. I don't feel hurt or offended nor do I care. I know that if a group of black men or boys occupy a street corner and are wearing neat suits and little bow ties, they don't want my white ass to get a copy of their paper. I'm sure I'm the devil, possibly Jewish and responsible for some of their misery.
I saw some more of the bow tie nazis (btn) yesterday. It was sort of refreshing, escpecially when I got that old look that I remembered so well. All it takes is for them to peak at my white face staring back at them, and they calmly step back onto the sidewalk and turn to each other. These guys were different though.
In Atlanta, I was used to seeing the btn regularly. Growing up in south Dekalb, you get used to being the only white person at the grocery store or the library. The btn were always young adults, possibly college students. Yesterday however, they were all 10-14 in my estimation. They wore the suits and the little bow ties, and they looked so adorable. One little boy held a megaphone, though he didn't use it while we were at the intersection. Additionaly, several of them carried pies in what looked like grocery store type packaging.
It isn't that I mind being snubbed. Honestly, I can take it, especially in light of our country's history regarding race relations. As well, religiously based racism even seems different to me than just outright ignorant asshole racism. Being from the South, I'm well aware of both. And while there is no difference in the evilness of either, the difference isn't there to discern between levels of evil so much as to suggest that some things are different for how they get there. This also gets back to being raised a certain way only to grow up and find that you are fighting with yourself over ideas that clash based on a grown up awareness versus childhood indoctrination.
I digress, so we'll get back to the story.
I was once again snubbed for my whiteness. This time, while still humorous, it was different because these were kids. They haven't yet had a chance to confront life as it is. I imagine the NofI to be similar to any other cult in that the kids don't know any different, are not at all aware of what "the world" truly is and what it truly means and holds for them. Many of these kids may never leave the NofI, just as many kids will never leave the JW's or the Baptist church, though many kids will. And full on indoctrination in the church only prepares kids to stay there and not for a real life in the real world.
I just realized that I'm making the old "S" word arguement against religion, which isn't what I mean to do. I can understand that parents are going to teach their kids their religion and want for their kids to grow up and stay true to that religion. I plan to teach my kids my own views on life. But I can look back to what I thought of "the world" as I grew up only to find myself questioning all I'd ever been taught. When I finally moved out and was really on my own, life wasn't so black and white as I'd been taught. Every didn't fit into either good and christian columns or bad and nonchristian columns. In fact no one person fits in any one column. Some christians lie and some atheist don't.
So as I watched the youngsters, the next gen of btn, I laughed and thought to myself that I was missing one more copy of someone's religious propaganda. That thought was closely followed by the thought that these kids, so young, already knew that if you checked, you wouldn't have to waist the steps if the car held white people. I don't feel hurt or offended nor do I care. I know that if a group of black men or boys occupy a street corner and are wearing neat suits and little bow ties, they don't want my white ass to get a copy of their paper. I'm sure I'm the devil, possibly Jewish and responsible for some of their misery.
pictures?
The first picture is Big Brother and Momma, while on the sofa are me and The Boy. He doesn't really play guitar, or should I say that he plays as far as he's concerned. I just realized that, though these pictures are a few months old, I'm actually wearing that same tshirt today.
pictures
I'm going to have to work to get an early picture of myself. I'm pretty sure that I don't have any, though there are plenty in Atlanta at my parents' house. That means that I will have to either talk my parents into scanning and emailing or sending via snail mail. There is a small chance that I will have some pictures somewhere here, though I really doubt that. I also don't know how to plant pictures in a blog, though I can figure that out with the Help button.
So be patient! Don't go getting all GMALASHEP on me with your persecutin' and all. I'll try to share some pictures!
edited to add: Dumb ass me posted this then went to the help menu and then clicked on "how do I post pictures?" And just so you all know, you push the image button right there above this, next to the spell check. Yeah, a button!
So be patient! Don't go getting all GMALASHEP on me with your persecutin' and all. I'll try to share some pictures!
edited to add: Dumb ass me posted this then went to the help menu and then clicked on "how do I post pictures?" And just so you all know, you push the image button right there above this, next to the spell check. Yeah, a button!
Saturday, April 08, 2006
fooling myself
Watching the weather yesterday, I imagined today's soccer game being cancelled, and I relished the thought of getting some sleep.
Friday is the latest night Momma works, usually getting home sometime after 4:00 Saturday morning. It's hard not to stay up sometimes, thinking I'm waiting for her to get home, but I seldom actually stay up that late, especially if we have 9:30 soccer games Saturday morning.
We didn't get the shitty end of the storms, but we are getting plenty of rain, enough so that the games were cancelled. But did I get back to bed? I suppose I could have after my nine phone calls to tell families not to bother going to the fields. But I didn't, and no amount of wishing I had will get me that sleep I gave up on.
So the clock slowly wends it's way toward 10:00, and I'm the only one awake. I've lied about all the reasons to homeschool, and this is the true reason that you can sleep in. At least you can most days. I'm not saying you should, but you can. I'm a little surprised that neither of the boys are awake. I really expected The Boy to be up and about as this is his usual time. I'm not complaining that he isn't up as I'm actually getting a little peace and quiet, sadly rare and all too shortlived.
It's time to run to the garage. I can get another cigarette in before my shift starts.
Friday is the latest night Momma works, usually getting home sometime after 4:00 Saturday morning. It's hard not to stay up sometimes, thinking I'm waiting for her to get home, but I seldom actually stay up that late, especially if we have 9:30 soccer games Saturday morning.
We didn't get the shitty end of the storms, but we are getting plenty of rain, enough so that the games were cancelled. But did I get back to bed? I suppose I could have after my nine phone calls to tell families not to bother going to the fields. But I didn't, and no amount of wishing I had will get me that sleep I gave up on.
So the clock slowly wends it's way toward 10:00, and I'm the only one awake. I've lied about all the reasons to homeschool, and this is the true reason that you can sleep in. At least you can most days. I'm not saying you should, but you can. I'm a little surprised that neither of the boys are awake. I really expected The Boy to be up and about as this is his usual time. I'm not complaining that he isn't up as I'm actually getting a little peace and quiet, sadly rare and all too shortlived.
It's time to run to the garage. I can get another cigarette in before my shift starts.
Thursday, April 06, 2006
GAAAAACCKKKK!!!
Aren't modern times great? Isn't it lovely that we can go from an interesting idea in children's fantasy literature to having the actual thing? And magic has nothing to do with it.
I know, that wordacious first paragraph as filler before I get to the real meat of the deal here.
Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans certainly sounded like fun the first time we read Harry Potter. I certainly didn't want to taste half the flavors, but that didn't matter. Wizard candy would seem difficult to attain in the Muggle world.
Then along comes Jelly Belly, fast becoming my favorite producer of nonchocolate candies. Anyone who can make a jelly bean flavored like buttered popcorn vaults several levels based on that one candy alone.
So what I was told was tutti frutti tasted like bubble gum flavor, which I don't really like so much. I'm certainly not repulsed by it, saving repulsion for the next one. Big Brother checked the bean then checked the guide on the package and declared it was either dirt or earthworm. It was dirt, but not a spitting dry dirt out of your mouth in a soccer game kind of dirt. This was a gummy dirt that still lingers somewhere in my nasal passages. Follow that with sardine which I promptly spit out.
I doubt The Boy notices differences in flavor when eating candy as he generally just attacks it. But Big Brother has to check each individual jelly bean before eating it so that he knows what flavor it is. I'm not sure if that stops him from eating any of them. I'm also not sure how they get the grass flavor to taste like grass. But that's quite okay.
I know, that wordacious first paragraph as filler before I get to the real meat of the deal here.
Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans certainly sounded like fun the first time we read Harry Potter. I certainly didn't want to taste half the flavors, but that didn't matter. Wizard candy would seem difficult to attain in the Muggle world.
Then along comes Jelly Belly, fast becoming my favorite producer of nonchocolate candies. Anyone who can make a jelly bean flavored like buttered popcorn vaults several levels based on that one candy alone.
So what I was told was tutti frutti tasted like bubble gum flavor, which I don't really like so much. I'm certainly not repulsed by it, saving repulsion for the next one. Big Brother checked the bean then checked the guide on the package and declared it was either dirt or earthworm. It was dirt, but not a spitting dry dirt out of your mouth in a soccer game kind of dirt. This was a gummy dirt that still lingers somewhere in my nasal passages. Follow that with sardine which I promptly spit out.
I doubt The Boy notices differences in flavor when eating candy as he generally just attacks it. But Big Brother has to check each individual jelly bean before eating it so that he knows what flavor it is. I'm not sure if that stops him from eating any of them. I'm also not sure how they get the grass flavor to taste like grass. But that's quite okay.
braggin' on Momma
Momma has been practicing for the past few weeks with the Hard Knox Rollergirls, our town's answer to the growing roller derby craze. The practices are held at a fairly local roller skating rink. We aren't the only people there with kids, and several of the other girls bring their kids. During practice, any nonrollergirls are allowed to skate around the outside of the rink.
Big Brother is taking to the skates like a natural. He's made a couple of new friends as well as getting to see some old friends that we haven't seen in a while.
At the first practice I followed The Boy around, ready at a moment to catch him before he fell. Practice number two he didn't want to be followed/helped, so I let him go and did a little skating myself.
Last night I didn't bother with skates. The Boy wasn't making my night easy, and my sore as shit inner thigh muscles didn't need to be worked that way. So I got to pay attention to the girls a bit more.
They are coming along nicely. Many of the girls hadn't really skated before or hadn't skated in a very long time. Momma certainly hadn't skated in a while, though she actually owns her own skates.
On to the brag and the finish.
During time trials, Momma out skated every one there and consistently scored the lowest times. As I watched, I saw where she could get even faster. She needs better wheels if not better skates altogether. Her wheels were slipping as she took the curves, though she controlled her speed and turns well and didn't fall. If she were more stable in the curves at speed, she would easily shave a couple of seconds or more off her time.
They also began splitting into teams last night. I'm not sure exactly what's happening, how it's working, but I'm thinking that all the girls are basically the beginning of the local league, and from the crowd of girls at the practices they will form teams. Momma was offered a position on a team almost immediately.
Other than a message board, the only website I can find for the Hard Knox Roller Girls is their Myspace page. It's linked if anyone cares to check it out.
Big Brother is taking to the skates like a natural. He's made a couple of new friends as well as getting to see some old friends that we haven't seen in a while.
At the first practice I followed The Boy around, ready at a moment to catch him before he fell. Practice number two he didn't want to be followed/helped, so I let him go and did a little skating myself.
Last night I didn't bother with skates. The Boy wasn't making my night easy, and my sore as shit inner thigh muscles didn't need to be worked that way. So I got to pay attention to the girls a bit more.
They are coming along nicely. Many of the girls hadn't really skated before or hadn't skated in a very long time. Momma certainly hadn't skated in a while, though she actually owns her own skates.
On to the brag and the finish.
During time trials, Momma out skated every one there and consistently scored the lowest times. As I watched, I saw where she could get even faster. She needs better wheels if not better skates altogether. Her wheels were slipping as she took the curves, though she controlled her speed and turns well and didn't fall. If she were more stable in the curves at speed, she would easily shave a couple of seconds or more off her time.
They also began splitting into teams last night. I'm not sure exactly what's happening, how it's working, but I'm thinking that all the girls are basically the beginning of the local league, and from the crowd of girls at the practices they will form teams. Momma was offered a position on a team almost immediately.
Other than a message board, the only website I can find for the Hard Knox Roller Girls is their Myspace page. It's linked if anyone cares to check it out.
nothing worse
In a comment to my last post concerning Bush, the unstoppable juggernaut of unable to admit his own evil, friend Bridget left this comment.
This comment of course reminded me of a delightful piece of video that the good folks over at Daily Kos were nice enough to point out and link to.
According to Tom Delay, there is nothing worse than a "know it all woman."
Take it for what it is. Hardball really doesn't seem that hard in light of the pandering to Delay that is evident in this clip.
And for the record, so that she can be even with Bill, I'll stand up now and offer my services to perform for Mrs. Clinton from under the desk.
Ah, not to worry.
The White House isn't a foreign place to our next President. She's just going to be sitting in a different office.
This comment of course reminded me of a delightful piece of video that the good folks over at Daily Kos were nice enough to point out and link to.
According to Tom Delay, there is nothing worse than a "know it all woman."
Take it for what it is. Hardball really doesn't seem that hard in light of the pandering to Delay that is evident in this clip.
And for the record, so that she can be even with Bill, I'll stand up now and offer my services to perform for Mrs. Clinton from under the desk.
Wednesday, April 05, 2006
ancient history, modern lessons
Can Bush learn from ancient Greek history? We are well into a war with no end in sight, and Lioness makes an great observation on this HERE.
Oh how I long for a day when I don't hear the phrase "President Bush" ever again.
Oh how I long for a day when I don't hear the phrase "President Bush" ever again.
guide to dining in a restaurant, the first
Too often customers dining in a restaurant don't quite know how to behave. It isn't that they can't behave in public, but for some reason, entering a restaurant seems to give these people a misplaced sense of themselves as a sort of master of the staff.
This isn't a post I've planned out and thought about in a usual sense. However, though I'm currently a stay at home dad, my work history is almost entirely food service based. I have several years of cooking experience along with a very few in management roles.
This post sprang from an experience that my wife had at work last night. Apparently, she is very often the only person inside Nama with a lighter. Nama, a swanky sushi bar here in the Patch, is one of a very few local places that are voluntarily smoke free. This is a whole other post that I need to write concerning establishment by government of smoke free by legislation. Momma's lighter was making the rounds of people, some staff using it to light tableside candles, some staff and customers taking the lighter outside to smoke.
She was not in possession of her lighter at the time of this occurrence. She had loaned it to a staff member and hadn't yet gotten it back, though she was aware that this staff member had sent it out on a loan train through staff and customers. One particular customer wanted to borrow the traveling lighter and knew that it belonged to her. So how did he request the use of the lighter?
Okay, hours later and at home, upon hearing the story, I nearly flew into a rage. This is something that you should NEVER do to anyone, especially anyone who is in control of how your food arrives for you to eat.
So what did this chump do? He snapped his fingers at her. He didn't utter a single word, didn't say please or anything that reasonable people do. He snapped his fucking fingers at her!!!
You might call a dog by snapping your fingers. You might snap your fingers in time to music. You might even try to get your kids attention with a quick snap of the fingers. But you should never, ever snap your fingers at the staff of any restaurant ever.
It is extremely rude. It is somewhat dehumanizing, especially in an industry so devoted to pleasing customers. Along with all the work it takes to run a restaurant correctly comes the attitudes of people who leave their humaneness at the door. Without having done the job, one cannot have any idea of the extreme stress of doing the job. Add to the unavoidable stresses the shitty attitudes of customers who expect servitude to just increase the stress.
I'll have to readdress this topic of customer behavior somewhat over time. I won't go into anything else here that idiot customers can do to infuriate restaurant staff. I will return to this in future postings and perhaps I'll write a tidy little pile of blogs that will become a book. I've long thought about writing a manual for restaurant diners so that they can be sure of good service and food. I have a store of experiences and anecdotes on which to rely as well as many friends in the business to maintain the flow.
We'll leave the topic for now however. We will reiterate what we've just learned. Do NOT snap your fingers at your server or at the cooks. It isn't appreciated and will only cause the staff to remember you as an asshole. It will reflect poorly on you and it very well might affect the service you can expect.
This isn't a post I've planned out and thought about in a usual sense. However, though I'm currently a stay at home dad, my work history is almost entirely food service based. I have several years of cooking experience along with a very few in management roles.
This post sprang from an experience that my wife had at work last night. Apparently, she is very often the only person inside Nama with a lighter. Nama, a swanky sushi bar here in the Patch, is one of a very few local places that are voluntarily smoke free. This is a whole other post that I need to write concerning establishment by government of smoke free by legislation. Momma's lighter was making the rounds of people, some staff using it to light tableside candles, some staff and customers taking the lighter outside to smoke.
She was not in possession of her lighter at the time of this occurrence. She had loaned it to a staff member and hadn't yet gotten it back, though she was aware that this staff member had sent it out on a loan train through staff and customers. One particular customer wanted to borrow the traveling lighter and knew that it belonged to her. So how did he request the use of the lighter?
Okay, hours later and at home, upon hearing the story, I nearly flew into a rage. This is something that you should NEVER do to anyone, especially anyone who is in control of how your food arrives for you to eat.
So what did this chump do? He snapped his fingers at her. He didn't utter a single word, didn't say please or anything that reasonable people do. He snapped his fucking fingers at her!!!
You might call a dog by snapping your fingers. You might snap your fingers in time to music. You might even try to get your kids attention with a quick snap of the fingers. But you should never, ever snap your fingers at the staff of any restaurant ever.
It is extremely rude. It is somewhat dehumanizing, especially in an industry so devoted to pleasing customers. Along with all the work it takes to run a restaurant correctly comes the attitudes of people who leave their humaneness at the door. Without having done the job, one cannot have any idea of the extreme stress of doing the job. Add to the unavoidable stresses the shitty attitudes of customers who expect servitude to just increase the stress.
I'll have to readdress this topic of customer behavior somewhat over time. I won't go into anything else here that idiot customers can do to infuriate restaurant staff. I will return to this in future postings and perhaps I'll write a tidy little pile of blogs that will become a book. I've long thought about writing a manual for restaurant diners so that they can be sure of good service and food. I have a store of experiences and anecdotes on which to rely as well as many friends in the business to maintain the flow.
We'll leave the topic for now however. We will reiterate what we've just learned. Do NOT snap your fingers at your server or at the cooks. It isn't appreciated and will only cause the staff to remember you as an asshole. It will reflect poorly on you and it very well might affect the service you can expect.
need to refocus myself
The point of this blog was never to sit idly waiting for me to remember it. I hoped to do more writing here of various kinds. I hoped that this would give me more reason and desire to write, to get back into the habit of writing regularly.
I've let the internet rule most of my days lately. Aside from constantly checking bloglines to see if there are new posts, I find that I keep getting dragged to blogs that I wouldn't normally bother with. I'm proud of some of the writing I've done in some comments to some fools. I can even make decent comments to the smart and nice people that I feel a camaraderie with in this crazy internet/blogging/homeschooling world that's growing so wonderfully.
In addition, and as a shitty excuse, I've let my online time grow to encompass so much of my day that I don't allow myself time for much else. My patience with the boys has diminished because of this as well. I can't blame the internets for my own problem, no matter how much I'd like.
Basically, I need to refocus myself and my energies. Even cooking meals has slid to a place of unimportance that really should embarrass me. I've allowed the boys unending hours of television, and they've proven that they will watch just about any cartoon, even if they saw the exact same episode mere hours ago.
All that to say, I should spend less time fucking off around these parts, but I don't know how likely that is. I really need to get off my ass and do lots of things. The computer aint going to do it for me, so I guess it really is up to me.
Okay, now I've said to much. The computer can hear me I think, and it knows what I'm saying. I don't think I'm making it happy, and I'm afraid it's going to do something. I'm sorry, computer. It's not you; it's me.
I've let the internet rule most of my days lately. Aside from constantly checking bloglines to see if there are new posts, I find that I keep getting dragged to blogs that I wouldn't normally bother with. I'm proud of some of the writing I've done in some comments to some fools. I can even make decent comments to the smart and nice people that I feel a camaraderie with in this crazy internet/blogging/homeschooling world that's growing so wonderfully.
In addition, and as a shitty excuse, I've let my online time grow to encompass so much of my day that I don't allow myself time for much else. My patience with the boys has diminished because of this as well. I can't blame the internets for my own problem, no matter how much I'd like.
Basically, I need to refocus myself and my energies. Even cooking meals has slid to a place of unimportance that really should embarrass me. I've allowed the boys unending hours of television, and they've proven that they will watch just about any cartoon, even if they saw the exact same episode mere hours ago.
All that to say, I should spend less time fucking off around these parts, but I don't know how likely that is. I really need to get off my ass and do lots of things. The computer aint going to do it for me, so I guess it really is up to me.
Okay, now I've said to much. The computer can hear me I think, and it knows what I'm saying. I don't think I'm making it happy, and I'm afraid it's going to do something. I'm sorry, computer. It's not you; it's me.
Monday, April 03, 2006
crazy weather
Sometime around 8:00 last night, shortly before the sky opened over us, I noticed a weather report. I could have told you it was going to rain, and suddenly it did.
I quickly remembered the car windows and quickly ran to roll them up. The driver's side, into which the rain was ferociously blowing is the hard one. While pushing the button you have to pull the window up. This of course was especially difficult as the window and my fingers were soaked. As I got the windows up the hail started. I waited the hail out in the car then darted inside.
The storms raged on and off all night. The wind was insane, howling around the house, roaring in the tree tops. It was a night to feel small and weak in the face of that tiny taste of what nature can do.
I learned this morning about the tornadoes in the other end of our state. We were under a torndoe watch ourselves for a bit of last night, but I hadn't heard of any touching down at that point. Our largest hail was golf ball size according to my wife. I was retucking The Boy into his bed and heard it, but I wanted him asleep and wasn't willing to get up and check it out. I could hear how bad it was though.
All day today we saw dark clouds hovering, blowing slowly past. The wind was in the tree tops again with it's steady roar. There's something almost hypnotic in watching the trees in the wind. Miyazaki captures that mysteriousness really well in My Neighbor Totoro, especially when Tsatsuki is outside getting firewood and the wind come blasting through and whips the wood pile into the air. I didn't expect this would end with Miyazaki, but it's fitting. Whenever I really notice the wind, I tend to also think of Totoro as the wind is such an interesting facet of the movie.
In addition to the links above, here is the IMDB page about Miyazaki. I wouldn't bother so much, but he deserves every bit of recognition he gets, and all children deserve to watch his movies.
Our weather should be normal and calm by tomorrow. I hope so. I have great plans for mowing grass sometime this week. I'd like for our practice field to be dry for Big Brother's soccer practice tomorrow night.
I quickly remembered the car windows and quickly ran to roll them up. The driver's side, into which the rain was ferociously blowing is the hard one. While pushing the button you have to pull the window up. This of course was especially difficult as the window and my fingers were soaked. As I got the windows up the hail started. I waited the hail out in the car then darted inside.
The storms raged on and off all night. The wind was insane, howling around the house, roaring in the tree tops. It was a night to feel small and weak in the face of that tiny taste of what nature can do.
I learned this morning about the tornadoes in the other end of our state. We were under a torndoe watch ourselves for a bit of last night, but I hadn't heard of any touching down at that point. Our largest hail was golf ball size according to my wife. I was retucking The Boy into his bed and heard it, but I wanted him asleep and wasn't willing to get up and check it out. I could hear how bad it was though.
All day today we saw dark clouds hovering, blowing slowly past. The wind was in the tree tops again with it's steady roar. There's something almost hypnotic in watching the trees in the wind. Miyazaki captures that mysteriousness really well in My Neighbor Totoro, especially when Tsatsuki is outside getting firewood and the wind come blasting through and whips the wood pile into the air. I didn't expect this would end with Miyazaki, but it's fitting. Whenever I really notice the wind, I tend to also think of Totoro as the wind is such an interesting facet of the movie.
In addition to the links above, here is the IMDB page about Miyazaki. I wouldn't bother so much, but he deserves every bit of recognition he gets, and all children deserve to watch his movies.
Our weather should be normal and calm by tomorrow. I hope so. I have great plans for mowing grass sometime this week. I'd like for our practice field to be dry for Big Brother's soccer practice tomorrow night.
Saturday, April 01, 2006
using a comment as a blog, with commentary
I'm not sure what exactly Danny was getting at when he posed his comment to me in his blog. I'm not going into the whole story of why the hell I ever bothered with this dumb fuck, but I did. Go see Doc about it if you want any more info. Those that know already already know, and since they are the few people reading this, they already know. Anyway, here is my response to the new Dumbass Danny. Anyway, after my "hitting kids is bad" comment, he accused me of being a spanker. I answered him.
I will admit, Danny, that I have spanked my kids. I have used very flimsy arguements to justify it. I still feel the shame of having hit my kids, and I know that I've done bad and hurtful things to my kids.
I know what it's like to feel that I have so little control that perhaps I should hit my kids and make them do what I want. That is a very powerless situation to put yourself in as a
parent, but that is nothing compared to what it does to our kids.
I also know what it's like to grow up with the dread of the whippings. I grew up being whipped in a manner that doesn't seem too far away from much of what the Pearl family suggests. Did they ever serve their intended function? Not one bit. They certainly hurt like hell. If anything, they served only to frighten and hurt me as a child, confuse me as an adult and to lessen my supply of tools with which to raise my children.
Once you've accepted hitting as acceptable, it lessens the power of every thing you do and it cheapens your role as a parent.
No matter how long it's been since I stopped spanking, I still know that fear in my kids' eyes that their father might hurt them. They certainly know I've hurt them, and I can't even start to think how that might effect them. I still know that I'm a person that has hurt his children.
I think a number of parents are upset at this boycot because it points out their own shortcomings. If you've been spanking, you've conditioned your kids with pain, how can you ever hope to top that as a motivation? How can you admit that what you've done, what you've justified, is actually wrong? How can you admit that you've twisted scripture to justify wanton abuse of kids? It's really hard to do, to admit that you've been hitting your kids. You never even want to call it hitting, because spanking is more acceptable, while hitting is hitting. But spanking is hitting. You can't spank without hitting. And hitting isn't okay.
If you don't believe that hitting kids is okay, then how can you support people who earn money from advocating the hitting of kids? That's foolish to even think it's okay. It's certainly at least selfish to be more concerned about your internet community than the fact that children are being abused by parents who think it's okay because their church or their christian friends suggest that it's okay.
That is the very heart of the matter, and it seems people want to hide it. Hiding child abuse is as bad as abusing the child. If you hide an entire culture of abuse, then you must take responsibility for each and every child hurt by these teachings.
In a sense, it's sort of a coming clean for me. I really wish I'd never spanked my kids. Nothing I say can change that I did it. I was spanked so regularly as a child that it really lost a lot of the horror that should be associated with hitting kids. It was so normal to me, just a part of life.
I was taught that humans were born with a sin nature. Left to themselves, all people would do all day is lay around and sin. If you were taught at a young age to fear god and dad, you would be spared this horrid life of sin and death and hell. So when I sinned, I was supposed to accept that I deserved to feel the pain of the rod and then be remorseful. I was never sorry because of my sin nature, so I had to be taught with pain how to truly feel sorry.
And still it didn't really have a major effect on me that I can point to and say, "Yes, that's because I was spanked." Of course I haven't really had to think about it for several years, and now it's all slowly coming back out. I don't remember the last time I truly considered the whippings I got till the boycot started me thinking. Reading some of the shit from the Pearl's book was just so much like my own experience that it kind of put me back there. I still don't like to think about it, so I may never figure out how those whippings fucked me up.
Between reading at Danny's then answering and having to be lazy about blogging, I need a fucking cigarette and a beer. I'm sinning twice, and it's all because I didn't get punished often enough as a child. Is cussing a sin? The commandments don't say "thou shalt not say fuck or shit or damn or hell or pussy or dick or etc." So what's a bitch to do? Fuck it, I need that goddamn cigarette!
Thursday, March 30, 2006
who the fffffffff
I'll go ahead and admit that I'm jumping on this from damn Kos. But seriously, who the fuck does this Howard Kaloogian think he is?
Here's the link, BLECH-AAAACK!
Cindy Sheehan is anti-troop? And he's pro-troop because he insisted that fresh coffee be given to some of our troops? Fuck you Howard Kaloogian! Why don't you and your coffee go and fight the fucking war and let the soldiers come home to their families?
How much more up Bush's ass could the Republican party be?
Here's the link, BLECH-AAAACK!
Cindy Sheehan is anti-troop? And he's pro-troop because he insisted that fresh coffee be given to some of our troops? Fuck you Howard Kaloogian! Why don't you and your coffee go and fight the fucking war and let the soldiers come home to their families?
How much more up Bush's ass could the Republican party be?
do you hit kids?
Regardless of where we think babies come from, when we choose to produce them and bring them into this world, we take on a certain duty and responsibility to them. Sadly, many of us don't stick with the contract.
I propose we remove words like spanking and beating and abusing from conversations that involve children. In their place we will simplify it to hitting. There are other abuses of children, but we aren't discussing those right now.
Do you hit kids? Do you hit all the kids around you that don't obey your rules? Do you hit your own kids? Do you call it something else when in reality it is hitting? Do you hit kids? Are you an adult? Do you hit you husband/wife? Do you hit your kids? Do you hit your neighbor? Do you hit the cashier at the grocery store? Do you hit kids? Do you hit your siblings? Do you allow your kids to hit? Do you hit kids?
It's just that simple. Kids don't react as well to being hit as you might think. Regardless of human resiliency, kids don't like being hit. Kids don't deserve to be hit. Do you think it would be okay for me to come hit you?
How about that last one? What if I came and hit you? Would that be okay? What if I could show you scriptural passages that I said indicated that I should hit you? Would that be okay? If I said to you that god told me to come and hit you, that god wasn't happy with what you were doing. Could I come and hit you then? If I decided that you were not following god's law, could I come and hit you?
Do you hit kids?
Even if you say that you don't beat or abuse your kids, if you hit them, then you've gone too far. You've proven that you are an incapable parent. You have two options. You can stop hitting and start parenting, or you can find a way to pretend that hitting kids is okay. You can be an adult, or you can be a person that hits kids.
Do you hit kids?
I propose we remove words like spanking and beating and abusing from conversations that involve children. In their place we will simplify it to hitting. There are other abuses of children, but we aren't discussing those right now.
Do you hit kids? Do you hit all the kids around you that don't obey your rules? Do you hit your own kids? Do you call it something else when in reality it is hitting? Do you hit kids? Are you an adult? Do you hit you husband/wife? Do you hit your kids? Do you hit your neighbor? Do you hit the cashier at the grocery store? Do you hit kids? Do you hit your siblings? Do you allow your kids to hit? Do you hit kids?
It's just that simple. Kids don't react as well to being hit as you might think. Regardless of human resiliency, kids don't like being hit. Kids don't deserve to be hit. Do you think it would be okay for me to come hit you?
How about that last one? What if I came and hit you? Would that be okay? What if I could show you scriptural passages that I said indicated that I should hit you? Would that be okay? If I said to you that god told me to come and hit you, that god wasn't happy with what you were doing. Could I come and hit you then? If I decided that you were not following god's law, could I come and hit you?
Do you hit kids?
Even if you say that you don't beat or abuse your kids, if you hit them, then you've gone too far. You've proven that you are an incapable parent. You have two options. You can stop hitting and start parenting, or you can find a way to pretend that hitting kids is okay. You can be an adult, or you can be a person that hits kids.
Do you hit kids?
Wednesday, March 29, 2006
today is . . .
Wednesday, 3/29, and Momma is, as usual, at work. The weather here has a hint of coolness, yet it is a beautiful day full of sunshine. I've scooped the dog poop from the yard and kicked the boys out into the outside to play. I however sit hunched over the computer tappingtappingtapping the keys, trying like hell to write something both legible and readable with just a touch of worthwhileness to it in the hopes that one day I will be the king of blogs.
Or not!
I have a mental list of chores that need to be done. I can look into the garage from here and see one of my big chores, cleaning that giant hole that hasn't been clear enough in years to admit a car. The grass is growing in wild patches of grass here, of lovely little purple flowers there. The lawnmower awaits, still resting from last year, hoping like hell that this is the year I change the oil.
Being Wednesday, tonight is Momma's roller derby practice. I'm sure I'll take the boys, and Big Brother will get even better on the roller skates while The Boy will continue his baby stepping along, convinced that my hands will forever hover just so, ready to either catch or pick up as soon as he should slip and fall.
Being 3/29, tomorrow is Lucero. I love getting to go out to see bands, and I've been looking forward to this show for a couple of months now. I certainly plan on fitting as many High Lifes into my belly as I can, and I might even raise the rock fist and sing along. Being the stay at home dad these days, along with Momma's all too often insane work schedule, my going out has been seriously curtailed. Subconciously, that seems to mean make up for lost time when the chance finally drops into my lap.
I know that it wasn't that long ago that I mentioned Lucero, and perhaps I should take a break between my rabid fan talk, but I just can't. Remember being a teenager when a single band could really change your life? You would get that album/tape/cd and listen to it so much that you almost wore it out that first week. The band took on some mythical greatness in your teen mind, and every word and note spoke to you of something bigger than you'd ever known, love greater than has ever existed, things you alone understood.
Then you grow up and things aren't so big, so grand, so right or so wrong anymore. You appreciate and love music a little differently. You've seen more of the world and of life and you just aren't as green as you were back then.
I believe that almost anyone can write a good song, and almost anyone can fall into a just so alignment where they have that one huge hit song without actually being a good enough band/musician to last. I need only mention the song "Come on Eileen (sic?)" to prove that point. Many bands can pull off a certain sound with a certain panache that they attract a cult following without having to actually be a good band, i.e. The Smiths (blech.) Some bands seem formed by someone else, a sort of musical ID that sits alone in the heavens, always knowing how and when to nudge this guitar player with that drummer who is friends with that guy that writes songs.
I fear I'll never stop adding to this meandering thing. I've come and gone several times, most recently to fix lunch for a pair of monkeys. Now I'm back and wondering what possessed me to start writing where I did, and what took me around that random corner to finish writing where I did. The world is certainly a worse place because I can't answer that question.
Or not!
I have a mental list of chores that need to be done. I can look into the garage from here and see one of my big chores, cleaning that giant hole that hasn't been clear enough in years to admit a car. The grass is growing in wild patches of grass here, of lovely little purple flowers there. The lawnmower awaits, still resting from last year, hoping like hell that this is the year I change the oil.
Being Wednesday, tonight is Momma's roller derby practice. I'm sure I'll take the boys, and Big Brother will get even better on the roller skates while The Boy will continue his baby stepping along, convinced that my hands will forever hover just so, ready to either catch or pick up as soon as he should slip and fall.
Being 3/29, tomorrow is Lucero. I love getting to go out to see bands, and I've been looking forward to this show for a couple of months now. I certainly plan on fitting as many High Lifes into my belly as I can, and I might even raise the rock fist and sing along. Being the stay at home dad these days, along with Momma's all too often insane work schedule, my going out has been seriously curtailed. Subconciously, that seems to mean make up for lost time when the chance finally drops into my lap.
I know that it wasn't that long ago that I mentioned Lucero, and perhaps I should take a break between my rabid fan talk, but I just can't. Remember being a teenager when a single band could really change your life? You would get that album/tape/cd and listen to it so much that you almost wore it out that first week. The band took on some mythical greatness in your teen mind, and every word and note spoke to you of something bigger than you'd ever known, love greater than has ever existed, things you alone understood.
Then you grow up and things aren't so big, so grand, so right or so wrong anymore. You appreciate and love music a little differently. You've seen more of the world and of life and you just aren't as green as you were back then.
I believe that almost anyone can write a good song, and almost anyone can fall into a just so alignment where they have that one huge hit song without actually being a good enough band/musician to last. I need only mention the song "Come on Eileen (sic?)" to prove that point. Many bands can pull off a certain sound with a certain panache that they attract a cult following without having to actually be a good band, i.e. The Smiths (blech.) Some bands seem formed by someone else, a sort of musical ID that sits alone in the heavens, always knowing how and when to nudge this guitar player with that drummer who is friends with that guy that writes songs.
I fear I'll never stop adding to this meandering thing. I've come and gone several times, most recently to fix lunch for a pair of monkeys. Now I'm back and wondering what possessed me to start writing where I did, and what took me around that random corner to finish writing where I did. The world is certainly a worse place because I can't answer that question.
Tuesday, March 28, 2006
word of the day is . . .
Forfend, as in an old lady, back of her hand to her forehead as she slips from the chair in a dead faint at the sight of . . .whatever the hell could offend some genteel old matron.
"Heaven forfend," she says just as her eyes close in the swoon.
Forfend: avert, ward off, forbid or go to dictionary.com for the whole story like I did.
I'm afraid that once again I was reading at the Daily Kos. I usually only check them in my bloglines, but sometimes, as will happen throughout bloggywood, some random topic will actively suck me onto the page. Someone's comment contained the term "heaven forbid" which term I tend to mentally translate to "heaven forfend" because it sounds archaic and silly, like something Bart Simpson would say on any random episode in which he had to wear any sort of period dress.
Maybe I will dredge up more words of the day. It isn't a bad idea and additionaly gives me a topic about which I shouldn't generally be able to fuss/cuss over too much. Having said that, I'm due for a good rant sometime soon. I also don't have to think or link too much, just gibber a little bit in a way that at least I am amused by.
"Heaven forfend," she says just as her eyes close in the swoon.
Forfend: avert, ward off, forbid or go to dictionary.com for the whole story like I did.
I'm afraid that once again I was reading at the Daily Kos. I usually only check them in my bloglines, but sometimes, as will happen throughout bloggywood, some random topic will actively suck me onto the page. Someone's comment contained the term "heaven forbid" which term I tend to mentally translate to "heaven forfend" because it sounds archaic and silly, like something Bart Simpson would say on any random episode in which he had to wear any sort of period dress.
Maybe I will dredge up more words of the day. It isn't a bad idea and additionaly gives me a topic about which I shouldn't generally be able to fuss/cuss over too much. Having said that, I'm due for a good rant sometime soon. I also don't have to think or link too much, just gibber a little bit in a way that at least I am amused by.
Monday, March 27, 2006
word of the day anyone?
So I'm reading at Daily Kos about some political shit. I'm not going into it anymore than I have to because I don't want to plagerise them. The link will take you directly to the article, though it actually has nothing to do with my own blog. I include it as a reference just in case anyone wonders where I got this idea. I'm just covering my bases with thos Kos people. Don't hate me. I lean left. I'm cool.
The article was about privacy rights and mentioned an inability in some on the right to not be very tech savvy. A mention was made to a pair of lobbyists/criminals referring to clients as "troglodytes."
I've heard/read the word before and know that it's meant as an insult. I hear the word and think of some sort of mythical stone being, something like an ancient Thing from The Fantastic Four, but not so bright perhaps. I imagine something hulking and ancient, weathered by time.
Regardless of what I thought I knew, I knew I didn't know.
The following is from answers.com or go directly to the troglodyte page.
The article was about privacy rights and mentioned an inability in some on the right to not be very tech savvy. A mention was made to a pair of lobbyists/criminals referring to clients as "troglodytes."
I've heard/read the word before and know that it's meant as an insult. I hear the word and think of some sort of mythical stone being, something like an ancient Thing from The Fantastic Four, but not so bright perhaps. I imagine something hulking and ancient, weathered by time.
Regardless of what I thought I knew, I knew I didn't know.
The following is from answers.com or go directly to the troglodyte page.
Troglodytes is a genus of small passerine birds in the wren family. The genus name (Greek troglodytai, from trogle, "a hole" and dyein, "to enter") refers to the tendency of these wrens to enter small crevices and similar as they forage for food.Ssssssssssssoooooooooo . . .yeah . . .ya buncha dumbass wrens! HaHa, you forage for food and tend to make a buzzing noise in flight! Wrens SUCK! But seriously, I'm not Googling this one no matter how easy it is, but who the hell first used troglodyte as an insult? I'd love to know the context of this one.These wrens are around 11-12 cm long. They are typically streaked brown above and somewhat paler below, with short rounded wings, strong legs and a cocked tail. The flight is direct and buzzing.
why I won't bother
I grew up Christian, and I do remember the Bible. I have not forgotten a lot of what was drilled into me as a child. I could easily use the Bible to show certain people how, in their christian zeal, they are breaking the laws of their lord and of the Bible.
I've decided I won't do that. It's a waste of my time. As has been pointed out plenty of times, you just can't argue with someone who refuses to see logic. If you use the Bible or "god said it" to argue your points, besides making you look foolish, you accomplish nothing.
I do not believe the Bible nor do I believe in any religion that is based on the Bible. I believe the Bible is a book written over a number of years by myriad writers, each one interested in some personal reasons. Perhaps our planet has, in the past, been visited by sentient beings, and perhaps our ancestors, in their ignorance believed these beings to be divine. It could just as easily have been the lizard men from Atlantis who impregnated the monkeys whose offspring became human, half monkey/half lizard.
It is impossible to argue with closed minds. Some people have their identity so tied up in a narrow religious based view of the world that they are unable to see the truth of anything.
I have to wonder about that certain kind of christian who takes upon themselves to do god's work. The Bible never suggests that christians should deal in hatred and meaness and spiteful words. The Bible never suggest that it's followers should judge others or punish them. The Bible never tells christians to force their beliefs and laws on anyone. The Bible does say to live so that your life is like a light, a beacon to those around you that they will see the peace that god brings. You can't do this while being mean to people and damning them.
Having said all that, I foresee some visits from christians to insist on my wrongness. The Bible to me is not worth the paper it's printed on. I will gladly read any arguements to what I've said, but any arguement that is based on the Bible instead of actual logic is basically of slightly less value than a fart. A least a fart brings some relief.
I've decided I won't do that. It's a waste of my time. As has been pointed out plenty of times, you just can't argue with someone who refuses to see logic. If you use the Bible or "god said it" to argue your points, besides making you look foolish, you accomplish nothing.
I do not believe the Bible nor do I believe in any religion that is based on the Bible. I believe the Bible is a book written over a number of years by myriad writers, each one interested in some personal reasons. Perhaps our planet has, in the past, been visited by sentient beings, and perhaps our ancestors, in their ignorance believed these beings to be divine. It could just as easily have been the lizard men from Atlantis who impregnated the monkeys whose offspring became human, half monkey/half lizard.
It is impossible to argue with closed minds. Some people have their identity so tied up in a narrow religious based view of the world that they are unable to see the truth of anything.
I have to wonder about that certain kind of christian who takes upon themselves to do god's work. The Bible never suggests that christians should deal in hatred and meaness and spiteful words. The Bible never suggest that it's followers should judge others or punish them. The Bible never tells christians to force their beliefs and laws on anyone. The Bible does say to live so that your life is like a light, a beacon to those around you that they will see the peace that god brings. You can't do this while being mean to people and damning them.
Having said all that, I foresee some visits from christians to insist on my wrongness. The Bible to me is not worth the paper it's printed on. I will gladly read any arguements to what I've said, but any arguement that is based on the Bible instead of actual logic is basically of slightly less value than a fart. A least a fart brings some relief.
Sunday, March 26, 2006
been a long time
Wow, I haven't posted in a week! I guess I haven't had anything to be a foul mouthed jerk about. I can't really say that, but I watched as the moral watchdogs turned nasty and went feral on a person that could call her own army around her and smite them all if she wanted to. I'm serious about that shit too, a damn army of angry homeschoolers who be totally ready to start some shit. And from watching that, I decided that this would be the time that I didn't go goofy and rant and cuss. They make themselves look bad and this would be one time that I didn't join them in the hysterics, though my own hysterics are so far removed from theirs, excepting of course the hystericyness. Yeah, I need to think about that.
I found another cool Google Earth download, Unesco World Heritage Sites. I've barely checked it out as there are an enormous number of sites around the world. A member of Google Earth Community, which I'm not, sent them THIS, which she created to showcase paintings she's done. She's marked the places, mostly in France, where she painted different pictures. I love the texture it adds, to see her view of these place against the eye in the sky view of Google Earth.
This is the week that I finally see Lucero. They are playing an in store at 4:00 in the afternoon so the boys will get to see them. I'm almost sure that Momma has some babysitting set up so that she and I can go see them that night. I believe Momma and I may also get to see The American Plague.
Lucero is a band that I would describe as being born of beer and heartache. While the same could be said of a great many bands, these guys just do it better than most. I could get mystical and hippy about it and suggest some sort of cosmic gathering that brought these four guys together. They really do just work perfectly. To hear some Lucero, click HERE and then on "Nobody's Darling" under the album cover.
The American Plague are local boys. I haven't been listening to them a lot till just recently. I'd heard of them, but my nights out are so random and often unpredictable that I've never been able to see them. I've finally heard them often enough on the local college station that I finally picked up their cd. Description? different heavier '70's styles influenced kind of? Maybe that would work. Kick Fuckin Ass? Well, that would definitely work. To hear The American Plague you can check their Myspace page HERE.
I found another cool Google Earth download, Unesco World Heritage Sites. I've barely checked it out as there are an enormous number of sites around the world. A member of Google Earth Community, which I'm not, sent them THIS, which she created to showcase paintings she's done. She's marked the places, mostly in France, where she painted different pictures. I love the texture it adds, to see her view of these place against the eye in the sky view of Google Earth.
This is the week that I finally see Lucero. They are playing an in store at 4:00 in the afternoon so the boys will get to see them. I'm almost sure that Momma has some babysitting set up so that she and I can go see them that night. I believe Momma and I may also get to see The American Plague.
Lucero is a band that I would describe as being born of beer and heartache. While the same could be said of a great many bands, these guys just do it better than most. I could get mystical and hippy about it and suggest some sort of cosmic gathering that brought these four guys together. They really do just work perfectly. To hear some Lucero, click HERE and then on "Nobody's Darling" under the album cover.
The American Plague are local boys. I haven't been listening to them a lot till just recently. I'd heard of them, but my nights out are so random and often unpredictable that I've never been able to see them. I've finally heard them often enough on the local college station that I finally picked up their cd. Description? different heavier '70's styles influenced kind of? Maybe that would work. Kick Fuckin Ass? Well, that would definitely work. To hear The American Plague you can check their Myspace page HERE.
I have no point
First, we'll get the weekend's soccer injuries out of the way. I took what was basically a straight kick to the knee from one of my U8's on Saturday. That one hurt a lot at the time. It's a little tender still, but it's nothing serious.
I didn't play more than twenty minutes today. I didn't start, and very shortly after subbing in I endured one of those top-of-the-list sort of soccer specific joys. The pass was from roughly two feet away and sent the ball very forcefully at about a 45 degree angle. The ball travelled with great velocity into the meat and two veg. As men do when taking this sort of abuse, I immediately went into the fetal position and fell onto the ground.
I won't bore you with the details, the soggy, spongey quality of the field, the deathly cold wind that wouldn't stop, the hopping up and down to be sure that everything was where it ought to be. We lost by much more than we should have to a team that outpassed us. We wasted several good passes by overshooting and giving the goalkeeper the ball. I have to wonder if I hadn't taken the crotch express if I couldn't have stopped a few of their shots, turned the game a bit. But then I think that I don't want to presume such. But seriously, we need to practice.
Okay, that's the soccer post.
I didn't play more than twenty minutes today. I didn't start, and very shortly after subbing in I endured one of those top-of-the-list sort of soccer specific joys. The pass was from roughly two feet away and sent the ball very forcefully at about a 45 degree angle. The ball travelled with great velocity into the meat and two veg. As men do when taking this sort of abuse, I immediately went into the fetal position and fell onto the ground.
I won't bore you with the details, the soggy, spongey quality of the field, the deathly cold wind that wouldn't stop, the hopping up and down to be sure that everything was where it ought to be. We lost by much more than we should have to a team that outpassed us. We wasted several good passes by overshooting and giving the goalkeeper the ball. I have to wonder if I hadn't taken the crotch express if I couldn't have stopped a few of their shots, turned the game a bit. But then I think that I don't want to presume such. But seriously, we need to practice.
Okay, that's the soccer post.
Saturday, March 25, 2006
goodbye Buck
Country music lost another of the good ones. Buck Owens left us sometime today, and he'll be missed. The link is blue because that's how I feel.
Born the son of a sharecropper in Texas, Buck Owens was doing a man's job by the time he was 13 and making music by 16. His is yet another of those quintessentially American stories.
We miss you already Buck Owens!
Born the son of a sharecropper in Texas, Buck Owens was doing a man's job by the time he was 13 and making music by 16. His is yet another of those quintessentially American stories.
We miss you already Buck Owens!
Sunday, March 19, 2006
amazon sells child abuse manual
Amazon, the renowned internet purveyor of books and more sells Debi and Michael Pearls' books. These books are basically manuals on ways to train a child through continued beatings in order to create a child that obeys on command. The Pearls misuse the Biblical scriptures to justify their horrible and abusive techniques. I have been looking forward to making some purchases from Amazon, but I find that I just can't help them. Buy selling the Pearls' books, Amazon is part of the problem, they are implicitly condoning the brutalization of children in the name of training.
Please join the boycott of all who sell the books of the Pearls or otherwise support them and their abuse.
Please join the boycott of all who sell the books of the Pearls or otherwise support them and their abuse.
Saturday, March 18, 2006
soccer stadiums of the world
I've fallen in love. And it's all about soccer again. This time however it's Google Earth related, so no dirty thoughts there people.
I found this new toy at Google Earth blog. A lot of the stuff they discuss is beyond me or my concern. Some of it looks neat, but it's just not for me. So imagine my surprise tonight. I can now check out a little over 1,600 soccer stadiums around the world using Google Earth.
I haven't messed with it a whole lot just yet. I checked out the local college stadium where our Lady Vols have been hurtin' some people lately (okay, last fall.) I next looked at RFK where I really want to go see DC United put a hurtin' on someone. Did I tell you that Red Bull bought the Metro Stars? Yeah, that Red Bull.
So before coming back to blog about my new adoration, I was in Germany. I need to start buying lottery tickets again so I can win a trip to the World Cup. I figure the whole trip can be done right for a million, so if I win the Powerball, that's where I'll be this summer.
I'm sure the few people reading this give a shit, so here's the link. Have a blast flying around the world checking out soccer stadiums. Vive la futbol!!! And if you don't have Google Earth, HOLY CRAP! What are you waiting for? And you call yourself a homeschooler? Seriously, if you don't have it, it is soooooo cool! So cool! Go get it.
I found this new toy at Google Earth blog. A lot of the stuff they discuss is beyond me or my concern. Some of it looks neat, but it's just not for me. So imagine my surprise tonight. I can now check out a little over 1,600 soccer stadiums around the world using Google Earth.
I haven't messed with it a whole lot just yet. I checked out the local college stadium where our Lady Vols have been hurtin' some people lately (okay, last fall.) I next looked at RFK where I really want to go see DC United put a hurtin' on someone. Did I tell you that Red Bull bought the Metro Stars? Yeah, that Red Bull.
So before coming back to blog about my new adoration, I was in Germany. I need to start buying lottery tickets again so I can win a trip to the World Cup. I figure the whole trip can be done right for a million, so if I win the Powerball, that's where I'll be this summer.
I'm sure the few people reading this give a shit, so here's the link. Have a blast flying around the world checking out soccer stadiums. Vive la futbol!!! And if you don't have Google Earth, HOLY CRAP! What are you waiting for? And you call yourself a homeschooler? Seriously, if you don't have it, it is soooooo cool! So cool! Go get it.
damn revenuers
I got The Boy in bed earlier tonight, and Big Brother was on the computer, so I turned the tv on. I don't often do that for myself lately. If Momma is actually not at work she gets first crack at the computer, so I sometimes get the tv then, but it's usually during the day when nothing is on. Generally the boys get the tv giving me ample time to figure out when the good cartoons are on.
The good cartoons, in my opinion almost begin and end with The Grim Adventures of Billy and Mandy. That's my newest favorite show right now. Big Brother loves Ben 10, and I find that I can certainly enjoy it along with him. No show in recent memory can top Fullmetal Alchemist, easily one of the greatest things I have ever seen. I'm not even close to caught up on the story line. The dumbasses at Cartoon Network decided to mess with the schedule, and now they only show new episodes. That means basically that I need to start investing in the DVD's just to figure out the damn story.
None of that is the point. That was all a rabbit trail diverting us from the real point here. When I finally did get the tv I did in fact watch The Grim Adventures of Billy and Mandy. I loved it. I laughed still more of my ass off. Then I went channel surfing. I'd missed the first half of the new Doctor Who, so I have no opinion about that, although I really need to remember to watch it. I did watch the last half hour of a History Channel show, Rumrunners, Moonshiners and Bootleggers.
I've always harbored a sort of respect for the bootleggers. That's not a surprise really if you really know me. I can see myself about 60 years ago in a modified Ford, gallons of moonshine my sole companion. The only thing I see in my headlights is that long strip of blacktop and a fence and some trees. I've got the pedal down, while my eyes keep darting to the rearview mirror. I'm praying I don't see a thing in that mirror.
I'm not sure exactly what the law says about making liquor. According to someone on the show, while making wine and beer are legal, making any liquor requires paying taxes. I know that I can make beer and it's legal, but I can't sell it. Making beer is easy. Distilling liquor of any kind just seems to me like too much work. It's not something that I could see doing as a hobby, but as a nonchemist/distiller, I don't know that it isn't feasible to make liquor on an extremely small scale.
I want to think of the bootlegger as the basic stereotype of the poor mountain man trying to feed his family. I don't doubt that a good number of bootleggers at one time really were doing what they could, what they knew how to do. That view was somewhat tarnished tonight though when one man who used to distill alcohol discussed the fact that he basically making sugar liquor.
All alcohol is based on finding something that has sugar in it and making that sugar turn into alcohol. Next to the oldest profession, it's probably the second oldest profession. Wine uses the sugar from grapes. Beer uses the sugar from grains, usually barley. Liquors use a variety of things from potatoes to grains to plain old sugar.
I'd never heard of sugar liquor before tonight. Corn liquor I'm well aware of and well acquainted with. I've also been known to enjoy a particular cactus based liquor. But I'll be damned if I need to get drunk so bad I'll drink sugar liquor. That's not even trying. And yes, that was the point. I took you all around with those silly cartoon distraction, and in the end I just proved that nothing I say is worth the paper it's written on.
The good cartoons, in my opinion almost begin and end with The Grim Adventures of Billy and Mandy. That's my newest favorite show right now. Big Brother loves Ben 10, and I find that I can certainly enjoy it along with him. No show in recent memory can top Fullmetal Alchemist, easily one of the greatest things I have ever seen. I'm not even close to caught up on the story line. The dumbasses at Cartoon Network decided to mess with the schedule, and now they only show new episodes. That means basically that I need to start investing in the DVD's just to figure out the damn story.
None of that is the point. That was all a rabbit trail diverting us from the real point here. When I finally did get the tv I did in fact watch The Grim Adventures of Billy and Mandy. I loved it. I laughed still more of my ass off. Then I went channel surfing. I'd missed the first half of the new Doctor Who, so I have no opinion about that, although I really need to remember to watch it. I did watch the last half hour of a History Channel show, Rumrunners, Moonshiners and Bootleggers.
I've always harbored a sort of respect for the bootleggers. That's not a surprise really if you really know me. I can see myself about 60 years ago in a modified Ford, gallons of moonshine my sole companion. The only thing I see in my headlights is that long strip of blacktop and a fence and some trees. I've got the pedal down, while my eyes keep darting to the rearview mirror. I'm praying I don't see a thing in that mirror.
I'm not sure exactly what the law says about making liquor. According to someone on the show, while making wine and beer are legal, making any liquor requires paying taxes. I know that I can make beer and it's legal, but I can't sell it. Making beer is easy. Distilling liquor of any kind just seems to me like too much work. It's not something that I could see doing as a hobby, but as a nonchemist/distiller, I don't know that it isn't feasible to make liquor on an extremely small scale.
I want to think of the bootlegger as the basic stereotype of the poor mountain man trying to feed his family. I don't doubt that a good number of bootleggers at one time really were doing what they could, what they knew how to do. That view was somewhat tarnished tonight though when one man who used to distill alcohol discussed the fact that he basically making sugar liquor.
All alcohol is based on finding something that has sugar in it and making that sugar turn into alcohol. Next to the oldest profession, it's probably the second oldest profession. Wine uses the sugar from grapes. Beer uses the sugar from grains, usually barley. Liquors use a variety of things from potatoes to grains to plain old sugar.
I'd never heard of sugar liquor before tonight. Corn liquor I'm well aware of and well acquainted with. I've also been known to enjoy a particular cactus based liquor. But I'll be damned if I need to get drunk so bad I'll drink sugar liquor. That's not even trying. And yes, that was the point. I took you all around with those silly cartoon distraction, and in the end I just proved that nothing I say is worth the paper it's written on.
Friday, March 17, 2006
can you boycott evil?
This post is NO LONGER sticky and will remain on top for the present. Please scroll down for further posts.
This post has been further edited below.
My last post was about spanking and was inspired by the story of a mother, following advice from a pair of child beating/abuse experts. The advice resulted in the death of the child. Apparently, when a child won't stay in bed, it is okay to wrap them so tightly in the covers that they can't move. If you end up killing the child then you must have been abusing them incorrectly.
Well, it happened. See the story HERE. I first heard about all of this at Darryl Cobranchi's site. I've become a fan of Mr. Cobranchi's writing about news stories that affect us homeschoolers.
Blogging, as it has throughout the world, has become popular among homeschoolers. The Old Schoolhouse is a magazine by and about homeschooling and this magazine sponsors a blogging site named Homeschool Blogger. The evil couple that educate child abusers and provide lessons in abuse are well represented at both these sites. These sites help the baby beaters spread their word and profit off of beating lessons disguised as books.
A boycott has been called for both these sites as well as anyone who supports the baby beaters. If you want to know more about the baby beaters follow the link to stoptherod.net which I included in my last post. I will continue to give this link when I feel it might help.
Here's a link to the page at Stop the Rod that deals directly with the baby beaters. http://stoptherod.net/ttuac.html
The following links are part of the boycott of groups willing to help the baby beaters.
http://cobranchi.com/
http://kitchentablelearners.blogspot.com/
http://dantesvirgil.blogspot.com/
http://evilmissy.blogspot.com/
http://beingbridget.blogspot.com/
http://intothesunrise.blogspot.com/
http://www.odonnellweb.com/
http://asmallcornerofnowhere.blogspot.com/
Joyce Fetteroll has a site about both unschooling as well as parenting. This PAGE has helped me immensley in the past. I keep it bookmarked because the questions answered here come up very often with me personally. I'm including this link because it can help. This page has nothing to do with the boycott or with anything else mentioned. It is a page of help for parents who need answers. I would ask that everyone read through this page because as parents, we can always use another answer from another point of view.
I am posting this for the children. For me to boycott the fundies and their crazy websites and blogs is kind of like a vegan boycotting meat. I gave up superstition a long time ago, and I usually steer clear of the oppressive majority. I've always felt in the minority as far as homeschooling goes, and I've always been okay with that. But this is bigger than me and my feelings. This is about the uncountable children who are hurt every day in this country. This is about people finally standing up for the children who can't stand up, the kids who are beaten with straps and sticks and plumbing supplies.
Pain does not teach or train. Pain drives children to develop an animalitic attitude where life is all about avoiding being hit. I know what it's like to lie and hide to avoid being hit.
This post has been edited to add:
I've taken the sticky off and relegated this post back to when it was written. I won't say that I disagree with anything that I've said, but in discussing this and pondering it with people not involved, I wonder how reasonable a boycott is. I'm not against the idea, but I can't help feel that it's sort of a token thing that is impossible to use as a true weapon. I have to ask myself how willing am I to truly follow up on all of this. If I boycott one place for one thing, how far up the chain do I go to be sure that I'm in no way supportive of something I disagree with?
I'm not questioning a boycott of anything. If nothing else, it seems as though it should work to affect a change, but I doubt it will unless you can sway a great number of people. And even then it's only use is to bring some light to a situation.
Sadly, christians are possibly the best at this sort of thing. They have great numbers and they can rouse support. Many of them also have the kind of money to make a dent when it's removed.
In the end, I know that the effort is not about the boycott or who does business with which bunch of moralistic butthole child beaters. The focus should be the children. Perhaps our efforts could better utilized in other arenas.
This post has been further edited below.
My last post was about spanking and was inspired by the story of a mother, following advice from a pair of child beating/abuse experts. The advice resulted in the death of the child. Apparently, when a child won't stay in bed, it is okay to wrap them so tightly in the covers that they can't move. If you end up killing the child then you must have been abusing them incorrectly.
Well, it happened. See the story HERE. I first heard about all of this at Darryl Cobranchi's site. I've become a fan of Mr. Cobranchi's writing about news stories that affect us homeschoolers.
Blogging, as it has throughout the world, has become popular among homeschoolers. The Old Schoolhouse is a magazine by and about homeschooling and this magazine sponsors a blogging site named Homeschool Blogger. The evil couple that educate child abusers and provide lessons in abuse are well represented at both these sites. These sites help the baby beaters spread their word and profit off of beating lessons disguised as books.
A boycott has been called for both these sites as well as anyone who supports the baby beaters. If you want to know more about the baby beaters follow the link to stoptherod.net which I included in my last post. I will continue to give this link when I feel it might help.
Here's a link to the page at Stop the Rod that deals directly with the baby beaters. http://stoptherod.net/ttuac.html
The following links are part of the boycott of groups willing to help the baby beaters.
http://cobranchi.com/
http://kitchentablelearners.blogspot.com/
http://dantesvirgil.blogspot.com/
http://evilmissy.blogspot.com/
http://beingbridget.blogspot.com/
http://intothesunrise.blogspot.com/
http://www.odonnellweb.com/
http://asmallcornerofnowhere.blogspot.com/
Joyce Fetteroll has a site about both unschooling as well as parenting. This PAGE has helped me immensley in the past. I keep it bookmarked because the questions answered here come up very often with me personally. I'm including this link because it can help. This page has nothing to do with the boycott or with anything else mentioned. It is a page of help for parents who need answers. I would ask that everyone read through this page because as parents, we can always use another answer from another point of view.
I am posting this for the children. For me to boycott the fundies and their crazy websites and blogs is kind of like a vegan boycotting meat. I gave up superstition a long time ago, and I usually steer clear of the oppressive majority. I've always felt in the minority as far as homeschooling goes, and I've always been okay with that. But this is bigger than me and my feelings. This is about the uncountable children who are hurt every day in this country. This is about people finally standing up for the children who can't stand up, the kids who are beaten with straps and sticks and plumbing supplies.
Pain does not teach or train. Pain drives children to develop an animalitic attitude where life is all about avoiding being hit. I know what it's like to lie and hide to avoid being hit.
This post has been edited to add:
I've taken the sticky off and relegated this post back to when it was written. I won't say that I disagree with anything that I've said, but in discussing this and pondering it with people not involved, I wonder how reasonable a boycott is. I'm not against the idea, but I can't help feel that it's sort of a token thing that is impossible to use as a true weapon. I have to ask myself how willing am I to truly follow up on all of this. If I boycott one place for one thing, how far up the chain do I go to be sure that I'm in no way supportive of something I disagree with?
I'm not questioning a boycott of anything. If nothing else, it seems as though it should work to affect a change, but I doubt it will unless you can sway a great number of people. And even then it's only use is to bring some light to a situation.
Sadly, christians are possibly the best at this sort of thing. They have great numbers and they can rouse support. Many of them also have the kind of money to make a dent when it's removed.
In the end, I know that the effort is not about the boycott or who does business with which bunch of moralistic butthole child beaters. The focus should be the children. Perhaps our efforts could better utilized in other arenas.
it isn't okay
Some people try to draw a line between spanking and beating. As far as I'm concerned, spanking is just an orderly beating. Spanking is about control and is not something that will help our kids.
I grew up being spanked. I don't know if it was of a Pearl mandated variety, but I don't doubt it was too far off the mark. In addition, I attended a small school that allowed corporal punishment most of the years that I attended. I received my share of spankings.
I have spanked my own kids in the past. It's not something I'm proud of. I really hate that I allowed that to become something I would do as a parent. But it is indicative of the power of spanking. Spanking breeds from one generation to the next.
When people spank and otherwise abuse their children, they are not loving them. What lesson is so important that someone feels the need to beat their children with a length of plumbing pipe in order to teach those children? What lesson is more important than assuring your children that you will love and support them?
Certain spanking advocates advise their sheep to maintain a supply of abuse tools and to distribute them about the house and in the car. Leave the instrument of abuse where the child is constantly reminded of the pain and degradation the parent will throw at them should they step out of line. Be sure that your preferred instrument of abuse is always within arms reach in order to train your child whenever he or she deserves a beating. Apparently you can best train children through fear, intimidation and pain.
Healthy parent child relationships cannot be forced. They can certainly be beaten out of children. Or the children can learn that the love and the relationship are completely dependant on following an extremely strict set of rules and code of conduct. Failure to comply will result in pain, true physical pain and debasement.
I've seen how many people turn out from a childhood of abuse. I know how I turned out. I'm one of the ones that eventually came to expect a certain number of spankings. I hated them, but I learned how to shrug them off. I learned to not give a shit. Some of us grow up to need that abuse because some of learn that all relationships of love also involve the meting out of physical pain. Some of us learn that we manifest our love through our offering of abusive coercion. Some of us build up walls and retreat into a place free of both pain and reality. Some of us one day crawl away from all that and resolve to do better.
I'm trying to do better. I know two little boys who deserve a hell of a lot better. And if I can't train them to be good men without resorting to violence, then I don't deserve those two boys. Anyone who thinks spanking is okay should not have children.
Here's a link to an organization that wants to do some good in this matter. stoptherod.net It isn't a pretty sight, but the truth is often very ugly. If there is a word for amazed and disgusted, that's how I feel when reading this. That's how I feel whenever someone tries to discern between beating and spanking.
I grew up being spanked. I don't know if it was of a Pearl mandated variety, but I don't doubt it was too far off the mark. In addition, I attended a small school that allowed corporal punishment most of the years that I attended. I received my share of spankings.
I have spanked my own kids in the past. It's not something I'm proud of. I really hate that I allowed that to become something I would do as a parent. But it is indicative of the power of spanking. Spanking breeds from one generation to the next.
When people spank and otherwise abuse their children, they are not loving them. What lesson is so important that someone feels the need to beat their children with a length of plumbing pipe in order to teach those children? What lesson is more important than assuring your children that you will love and support them?
Certain spanking advocates advise their sheep to maintain a supply of abuse tools and to distribute them about the house and in the car. Leave the instrument of abuse where the child is constantly reminded of the pain and degradation the parent will throw at them should they step out of line. Be sure that your preferred instrument of abuse is always within arms reach in order to train your child whenever he or she deserves a beating. Apparently you can best train children through fear, intimidation and pain.
Healthy parent child relationships cannot be forced. They can certainly be beaten out of children. Or the children can learn that the love and the relationship are completely dependant on following an extremely strict set of rules and code of conduct. Failure to comply will result in pain, true physical pain and debasement.
I've seen how many people turn out from a childhood of abuse. I know how I turned out. I'm one of the ones that eventually came to expect a certain number of spankings. I hated them, but I learned how to shrug them off. I learned to not give a shit. Some of us grow up to need that abuse because some of learn that all relationships of love also involve the meting out of physical pain. Some of us learn that we manifest our love through our offering of abusive coercion. Some of us build up walls and retreat into a place free of both pain and reality. Some of us one day crawl away from all that and resolve to do better.
I'm trying to do better. I know two little boys who deserve a hell of a lot better. And if I can't train them to be good men without resorting to violence, then I don't deserve those two boys. Anyone who thinks spanking is okay should not have children.
Here's a link to an organization that wants to do some good in this matter. stoptherod.net It isn't a pretty sight, but the truth is often very ugly. If there is a word for amazed and disgusted, that's how I feel when reading this. That's how I feel whenever someone tries to discern between beating and spanking.
Thursday, March 16, 2006
damfotd
Yeah, this is the Dumb Ass MotherFucker Of The Day. You can go HERE if you want to cringe and like feeling that urge to snap. Scroll down to him being a dumbfuck about unschooling to learn why the bile is rising.
If you don't like or understand unschooling, then shut the fuck up. If you read one post from your sister's friend's coop buddy in Tulsa and they say that god hates unschooling, then shut the fuck up. If your kids attend public or private school, or if you school at home, then shut the fuck up. If you want to argue what I say using scripture then shut the fuck up.
I am not against educating your children in the best way that you are able. I am not against any form of homeschooling that centers on the child and the well being of the child. I may not personally approve of certain techniques or styles, but if your children are the center of every reason you homeschool, then I can at least agree with your motivations.
I will not describe unschooling to anyone. If you want to know about it, go to Google. Don't just read one thing, read them all. Read and read and read. Email some unschooling families. Read John Holt's books. But don't give us this bullshit about how horrible I am and how dumb my kids are going to be. If their future livelihood depends solely on their having achieved a diploma from a public school, they will know to walk out the door and keep looking.
Seriously, if you can only tear down, then shut the fuck up. I wouldn't have bothered with this if this guy hadn't shown up at Doc's blog with his smarmy attitude. If you bring the shit to our Doc then you are asking for the raining down of my hell fire.
I don't give two shits for intelligent discourse sometimes, and I don't give two shits for Careful Thought's opinion. Hell, anyone with a Bible verse at the top of their blog loses points right away in my opinion. And for the record, I can do intelligent if I want. I can rant or argue or debate in any form I want. I choose not to do so now. I choose to call a motherfucker a motherfucker.
If you don't like or understand unschooling, then shut the fuck up. If you read one post from your sister's friend's coop buddy in Tulsa and they say that god hates unschooling, then shut the fuck up. If your kids attend public or private school, or if you school at home, then shut the fuck up. If you want to argue what I say using scripture then shut the fuck up.
I am not against educating your children in the best way that you are able. I am not against any form of homeschooling that centers on the child and the well being of the child. I may not personally approve of certain techniques or styles, but if your children are the center of every reason you homeschool, then I can at least agree with your motivations.
I will not describe unschooling to anyone. If you want to know about it, go to Google. Don't just read one thing, read them all. Read and read and read. Email some unschooling families. Read John Holt's books. But don't give us this bullshit about how horrible I am and how dumb my kids are going to be. If their future livelihood depends solely on their having achieved a diploma from a public school, they will know to walk out the door and keep looking.
Seriously, if you can only tear down, then shut the fuck up. I wouldn't have bothered with this if this guy hadn't shown up at Doc's blog with his smarmy attitude. If you bring the shit to our Doc then you are asking for the raining down of my hell fire.
I don't give two shits for intelligent discourse sometimes, and I don't give two shits for Careful Thought's opinion. Hell, anyone with a Bible verse at the top of their blog loses points right away in my opinion. And for the record, I can do intelligent if I want. I can rant or argue or debate in any form I want. I choose not to do so now. I choose to call a motherfucker a motherfucker.
it isn't really bush
The following started out as a post on a Yahoo group I'm a member of. But I couldn't let it stay there. It's great fun, so I brought it here. And with no effort whatsoever, I've got a blog for the day. I rule! So, whithout further ado, my answer to a not so innocent question from someone silly enough to still argue any proBush stance. What a silly ass!
Someone wondered why we tend to hate Bush so much when it isn't really him that is the problem on the right. It really is just an absolute breakdown in the ability to be human and empathize. But that's Republicans for you.
So why should we heap so much scorn and hatred on Bush? He asks for it. Just to look into his simpering beady eyes irks me. The ratty little half smile that says "yeah I'm lying again" as he trys like hell to pretend that it's all cool, that's he's in control.
I fully believe that Cheney is much more to blame for all of this, as Bush isn't smart enough to carry it all off. Cheney is the real evil along with a few other people that we probably don't even see, and I am certain that they wear dark cowls with deep hoods pulled over their faces. And we don't ever really see Cheney enough to realize the extent of his own personal culpability. He's never in the limelight.
Cheney is too busy anyway. He has to drown a certain number of kittens each week in order to catch an erection. He's snorted so much coke off of dead hookers that he finally just started snorting dead hookers. Bush is almost as bad, but he's always had Cheney around to mastermind whatever scheme their ridiculuos addictions call for.
Cheney regularly shoots old men in the face. He also shoots mailboxes. The mailboxes are because he's drunk, but the old men are special. And this is the shit that Bush doesn't know. He is the monkey to Cheney's organ grinding.
Cheney shoots old men for the blood. It takes a lot of magic to rule the world. Cheney knows that with each pint of innocent blood shed, his power grows ever stronger and Cthulu is that much closer to being released. And no one hates old people like Americans, so who's going to notice?
Someone wondered why we tend to hate Bush so much when it isn't really him that is the problem on the right. It really is just an absolute breakdown in the ability to be human and empathize. But that's Republicans for you.
So why should we heap so much scorn and hatred on Bush? He asks for it. Just to look into his simpering beady eyes irks me. The ratty little half smile that says "yeah I'm lying again" as he trys like hell to pretend that it's all cool, that's he's in control.
I fully believe that Cheney is much more to blame for all of this, as Bush isn't smart enough to carry it all off. Cheney is the real evil along with a few other people that we probably don't even see, and I am certain that they wear dark cowls with deep hoods pulled over their faces. And we don't ever really see Cheney enough to realize the extent of his own personal culpability. He's never in the limelight.
Cheney is too busy anyway. He has to drown a certain number of kittens each week in order to catch an erection. He's snorted so much coke off of dead hookers that he finally just started snorting dead hookers. Bush is almost as bad, but he's always had Cheney around to mastermind whatever scheme their ridiculuos addictions call for.
Cheney regularly shoots old men in the face. He also shoots mailboxes. The mailboxes are because he's drunk, but the old men are special. And this is the shit that Bush doesn't know. He is the monkey to Cheney's organ grinding.
Cheney shoots old men for the blood. It takes a lot of magic to rule the world. Cheney knows that with each pint of innocent blood shed, his power grows ever stronger and Cthulu is that much closer to being released. And no one hates old people like Americans, so who's going to notice?
Sunday, March 12, 2006
new week, new pain?
So we are off on another soccer adventure. The news of my lovely adult recreational team is much brighter this week, speaking solely in terms of the team. We won, though I must admit that we were able to substitute up to five players at a time, while the opposing team had no subs.
We played the team from Sweetwater today, and I'll never know why they don't bring enough players. The one time I remember playing in Sweetwater, they had subs. But out of three years that I've played, we've been there once.
They can be a physical team. They can also be the kind of team that bitches about the physical game played against them, even when you are repaying their jabs in kind.
I'll know tomorrow about the usual round of aches, but I have new stuff to bitch about today.
There is the bruise on my thigh from a kick, a little high if you ask me, but I'm not the ref. I pulled some muscle in the opposite thigh as well. I also landed hard on that leg doing a slide tackle. Generally, a slide tackle involves jumping with both feet at the ball to force your opponent to at least stop and chase after the ball. It's a desperation move that one uses as a last resort. Instead of both feet this particular time, one foot stuck in the ground so that as I hit the ground, I landed on that foot. Snapping your foot up to your ass with such force will end up putting stress on your knee. I'm pretty sure that I didn't do any real damage, but it still feels a little unpleasant.
That's my story for now. We got home from the game with just enough time for Momma to touch up her makeup, change into work pants and take off. I can't take a shower unless the boys are inside, and one more beautiful day here means I want them out in it as long as they can. All that to say that, almost three hours after the game, I'm still filthy. I want a shower, and I don't really feel I can relax until them. I'm still in soccer shorts, dirty socks, dried sweat, dead grass that crept under the shinguards and dirt. My face feels gritty if I rub it, so I try not to.
But the pizza is out of the oven. It's finally just dark enough and the boys are just hungry enough that it's time for everyone to be inside. My shower can't be more than about 20 minutes away, so I am off. I told my crappy story, and now . . .ass washin'!
We played the team from Sweetwater today, and I'll never know why they don't bring enough players. The one time I remember playing in Sweetwater, they had subs. But out of three years that I've played, we've been there once.
They can be a physical team. They can also be the kind of team that bitches about the physical game played against them, even when you are repaying their jabs in kind.
I'll know tomorrow about the usual round of aches, but I have new stuff to bitch about today.
There is the bruise on my thigh from a kick, a little high if you ask me, but I'm not the ref. I pulled some muscle in the opposite thigh as well. I also landed hard on that leg doing a slide tackle. Generally, a slide tackle involves jumping with both feet at the ball to force your opponent to at least stop and chase after the ball. It's a desperation move that one uses as a last resort. Instead of both feet this particular time, one foot stuck in the ground so that as I hit the ground, I landed on that foot. Snapping your foot up to your ass with such force will end up putting stress on your knee. I'm pretty sure that I didn't do any real damage, but it still feels a little unpleasant.
That's my story for now. We got home from the game with just enough time for Momma to touch up her makeup, change into work pants and take off. I can't take a shower unless the boys are inside, and one more beautiful day here means I want them out in it as long as they can. All that to say that, almost three hours after the game, I'm still filthy. I want a shower, and I don't really feel I can relax until them. I'm still in soccer shorts, dirty socks, dried sweat, dead grass that crept under the shinguards and dirt. My face feels gritty if I rub it, so I try not to.
But the pizza is out of the oven. It's finally just dark enough and the boys are just hungry enough that it's time for everyone to be inside. My shower can't be more than about 20 minutes away, so I am off. I told my crappy story, and now . . .ass washin'!
Saturday, March 11, 2006
the skeleton
The boys are both outside playing, and I am even wearing shorts for now. I'm not blogging twice in one day to run salt in the wound that our beautiful weather may wear on my faithless readers. No, this is about the skeleton.
Something died less than a yard from our front door long enough ago that it is now no more than a nice clean skeleton. We don't use the front door usually except for a few friends who haven't quite realized to come to the back. Other than that the front door is the place where I dismiss the random peddlers of both god and the newspaper.
I have been opening the front door lately as a quick exit while the boys are outside. As those days come more often, I will be less likely and able to be outside with them, so the front door affords me one more place from which to spy on the boys while they play.
I had stepped out the front door to remind them of something and happened to find the skeleton. I would have found it soon enough, but honestly, the front porch pretty much sucks, and the majority of time I spend in the front is usually yard work related. It's not quite that late in the season yet.
It is a mammal skeleton. It is completely clean. It was a small animal, possibly a kitten. I haven't moved it enough to really examine it, and I don't know what I would do as far as examining it. Before the night ends, I plan to google some info about safety and possible storage. For all the macabre aspects, as a homeschooler, I feel like I've been given a free lesson, lying right there under the hydrangea.
Oh, yeah, I need to learn about hydrangeas also. They always need trimming, but I never know if I'm doing it right and have been too lazy to check a book out of the library.
So post number two for the day is just as boring as number one. And that's sad, because a post that starts out with bones and ends up with trimming bush should really be more exciting than that.
Something died less than a yard from our front door long enough ago that it is now no more than a nice clean skeleton. We don't use the front door usually except for a few friends who haven't quite realized to come to the back. Other than that the front door is the place where I dismiss the random peddlers of both god and the newspaper.
I have been opening the front door lately as a quick exit while the boys are outside. As those days come more often, I will be less likely and able to be outside with them, so the front door affords me one more place from which to spy on the boys while they play.
I had stepped out the front door to remind them of something and happened to find the skeleton. I would have found it soon enough, but honestly, the front porch pretty much sucks, and the majority of time I spend in the front is usually yard work related. It's not quite that late in the season yet.
It is a mammal skeleton. It is completely clean. It was a small animal, possibly a kitten. I haven't moved it enough to really examine it, and I don't know what I would do as far as examining it. Before the night ends, I plan to google some info about safety and possible storage. For all the macabre aspects, as a homeschooler, I feel like I've been given a free lesson, lying right there under the hydrangea.
Oh, yeah, I need to learn about hydrangeas also. They always need trimming, but I never know if I'm doing it right and have been too lazy to check a book out of the library.
So post number two for the day is just as boring as number one. And that's sad, because a post that starts out with bones and ends up with trimming bush should really be more exciting than that.
awesome soccer weather
We seriously could not have asked for better weather for our first game. The clouds when I first went outside today hinted at a chance for rain, but they quickly admitted the lie and left us with sunshine. It's still warm and just absolutely beautiful out there.
The game was great. Both teams played really well, and I honestly don't think I could have asked for more from my Cobras. They all played hard, they passed (some) and my defense blocked several shots. We scored several goals, though I believe the other team won by one goal.
My mantra while coaching is as simple as asking for the very best. I don't insist on the kids being the best, but I want them to do the best, to play their hardest. If I get that from them, then I consider us all to have won. I really think that I got that from them. I also know where we will work next practice, more passing for one.
That's all for now. The weather is really too nice to be doing this on the computer. I wish you all the same beautiful day that I've had.
The game was great. Both teams played really well, and I honestly don't think I could have asked for more from my Cobras. They all played hard, they passed (some) and my defense blocked several shots. We scored several goals, though I believe the other team won by one goal.
My mantra while coaching is as simple as asking for the very best. I don't insist on the kids being the best, but I want them to do the best, to play their hardest. If I get that from them, then I consider us all to have won. I really think that I got that from them. I also know where we will work next practice, more passing for one.
That's all for now. The weather is really too nice to be doing this on the computer. I wish you all the same beautiful day that I've had.
Wednesday, March 08, 2006
hey Margaret, it's me god! PISS OFF!
While perusing an atheist board that I frequent, I was (the opposite of delighted) to read Raymond Kraft's "Death of Liberalism." Someone there had recieved it from a "friend" or should we say a sheeple acquaintence. It really is a steaming pile of what comes out when a turd poops, and I honestly hate to link to it. So I won't. However, the rebuttal, which has the link I'm not bothering with, is linked HERE and is well worth reading.
I have always considered the average fundamentalist to be a fairly benign creature alone, possibly harmful if cornered, marginally offensive and dangerous when in groups and volatile and dangerous as a voting bloc.
Reading the rebuttal, the main point is that neither Islam, nor Islamist, nor Jihaddis are our true enemy. The true enemy is all religious fundamentalist. If you want an especially scarey glimpse into hatred, there is a frightening map of US hate groups over at tolerance.org.
South Carolina wins the bigot prize apparently, though sadly my own southern state comes too close. I tend, being pretty average white male, to think that racism and bigotry are not issues that we really face as a country. I mean, it's 2006 for fuck sake! Where are all these racists that we are sure are still out there? Of course, being the aforementioned average white male that I am, why should I expect that I'm going to know it when I do see it? I can try to see it and recognize it when I do. I can raise my kids to be openminded. But no matter how well I think I'm doing, I can still only understand it so much. On the one hand, it's hard to grasp what it means to not be a white guy. On the other hand, I strive to be open minded and maybe end up a little optimistic due to what I just never had to personally deal with. The maps kind of messing with me to be honest.
And thanks to Contemplator who brought it up in her blog. Considering South Carolina's win in the hate group population density, I'm not surprised that they are the target for a fundamentalist drive to populate South Carolina for god and to make it a christian theocracy. Great idea you bunch of raving mad fucktard religiofreaks! Go here to christianexodus.org and invent a god to beg these people don't make it. Damn I wish this was all a joke.
I have always considered the average fundamentalist to be a fairly benign creature alone, possibly harmful if cornered, marginally offensive and dangerous when in groups and volatile and dangerous as a voting bloc.
Reading the rebuttal, the main point is that neither Islam, nor Islamist, nor Jihaddis are our true enemy. The true enemy is all religious fundamentalist. If you want an especially scarey glimpse into hatred, there is a frightening map of US hate groups over at tolerance.org.
South Carolina wins the bigot prize apparently, though sadly my own southern state comes too close. I tend, being pretty average white male, to think that racism and bigotry are not issues that we really face as a country. I mean, it's 2006 for fuck sake! Where are all these racists that we are sure are still out there? Of course, being the aforementioned average white male that I am, why should I expect that I'm going to know it when I do see it? I can try to see it and recognize it when I do. I can raise my kids to be openminded. But no matter how well I think I'm doing, I can still only understand it so much. On the one hand, it's hard to grasp what it means to not be a white guy. On the other hand, I strive to be open minded and maybe end up a little optimistic due to what I just never had to personally deal with. The maps kind of messing with me to be honest.
And thanks to Contemplator who brought it up in her blog. Considering South Carolina's win in the hate group population density, I'm not surprised that they are the target for a fundamentalist drive to populate South Carolina for god and to make it a christian theocracy. Great idea you bunch of raving mad fucktard religiofreaks! Go here to christianexodus.org and invent a god to beg these people don't make it. Damn I wish this was all a joke.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)