Tainted Legacies

The twelfth anniversary of the death of Diana, Princess of Wales, passed with barely a murmur on Monday. There were folks at the gates of Kensington Palace as has been the norm since her death… but with each passing year, it gets quieter, with less people, less crap strewn everywhere. No, I don’t think she’ll ever be forgotten, at least not as long as the future King William V lives, but grief becomes muffled with every year that passes.

Just think: today, Rudolph Valentino, whose maniacal celebrity back in the 1920s was very like Diana’s, is now just a reference and a  fuzzy ideal.

My money is laid on this: no future daughter of either of her sons will go by the name Diana, and certainly no heiress presumptive – they wouldn’t dare set up a Queen Diana. Elizabeth, Jane, Catherine, Alice, Alexandra, even Victoria – but never Diana. Diana will be a second, third or fourth name for her sons’ daughters, should they have any. Why? Diana’s shadow is far too overwhelming, even from the grave.

So do finally rest in peace, Diana. One day, I think your son will repatriate your remains to an appropriate place rather than that silly island that makes money for the brother who had no problem shunning you in life, because by then, people won’t be so unreasonably nutty over you.

~~

There’s one thing the Brits are right to be rabid about: the idea of Queen Camilla. That woman gives me the heebie-jeebies. Her eyes are fathomless.

~~

Another death, however, caused a media frenzy last week. Edward Moore Kennedy, who hadn’t been seen in public for the better part of this year, died last week of brain cancer.

His death, much like Diana’s, leaves a mixed legacy, although you’d never guess it by the media orgasm about how wonderful and great and rainbows and unicorns… um, no. He seemed to settle down once married to Victoria, but nothing can really erase his tainted past. Sorry, he may not have intended to kill Mary Jo, but he was a prime contributor to her death. Yeah, he served in the military, but it was minimal and undistinguished, and he should not be buried in Arlington – he’s there because he’s Jack and Bobby’s brother, not because he meets the requirements to be buried there. While his older brothers were noted for their brains and drive, Ted didn’t seem to have either trait – but he got his Senate seat anyway, thanks to Dear Old Dad.

The argument I’ve heard is ‘well, his constituents kept sending him back…’

Well, there’s no accounting for brains, is there?

His death, unlike Diana’s, really didn’t become the media jackpot they hoped. They tried, though, they really did. One headline in a ticker I saw read ‘Hundreds line streets for Kennedy cortege’ or some crap like that. Not five minutes passed and hundreds was  hurriedly edited to read ‘thousands.’ I didn’t see thousands on the skewed video clips. People have jobs. People have lives. They’re too busy trying to keep said jobs instead of gawk at the cortege of a man who never had a financial worry in his life.

Modern America does not care about the Kennedy hype; that really died with Old Joe.

Ted was just not really that popular – people said nice things because it’s the polite thing to do, but he just didn’t have that kind of personality. People are tired of dynasties anyway, and in this country they tend to fizzle out. Adams, Harrison, Roosevelt, Eisenhower, Taft – the political children and relatives of these presidents eventually fizzled out. It is the same with the Kennedys – they’re still in the political venue mostly because on the East Coast, you can’t help but trip over Kennedys; there’s just too many of them. But they illustrate what’s wrong with families in politics – they think they’re entitled to it: see the attempt to place Caroline in Hillary’s seat – complete disaster.

And now that we have had Bush I and II, plus various other political offices that the Bush family has held in places, the American public is fucking tired of political families. It would stand to reason that Obama is in office, in part, of this frustration with dynasties, and in particular, the Bush family, but also the Clintons – no more Bushes, no more Clintons was a slogan used during the last campaign.

This is the case with the Kennedys, too.

Rumor has it that there is vicious infighting over Ted’s seat. Please God, no. No more Kennedys. It’s over. 

Besides, I think ol’ Ted was a rallying point for the younger generations of the family; he held them together because he knew how – he had done it in the worst days of his life under the most horrendous circumstances. I suspect that, politically, the Kennedys will slowly dissipate in another generation.

~~

Another one with a tainted legacy is Michael Jackson, who died suddenly back in June. Even his death is tainted, with shameless parents hawking things and bickering, crazy siblings, all of whom are attempting to capitalize on his death. He isn’t even buried yet, probably because they’re still fighting over where to put him.

Here’s yet another one where the media tried to whip people up and failed, confirmed by an L.A. cop who was doing duty at the memorial who essentially said ‘Thousands? There was maybe three hundred.’ Barricades and police for almost nothing.

His career was destroyed, and although so many in my age group nearly deified him when we were growing up because he was just so freaking cool and innovative (oh, the hallways full of red leather jackets and single gloves… !), his weirdnesses and his predilections in the years following that success slowly and completely eroded it.

There were those who compared Michael with Elvis Presley. Not even close. While Elvis had his many, many issues and fuck ups, he never lost his popularity or his reputation. He too died of drugs, he too had doctors who were criminally feeding drug addictions, but Elvis never, ever stooped as low or was as certifiably crazy or criminal as Michael.

~~

When are we, as a nation, going to stop rewarding people who do terrible things in their lives and sanctify them in death?

Oh, Carradine was wonderful! No, he was a sex fiend who had interesting predilections, but was careful not to get caught. He only got caught when it killed him.

Oh, Cobain was wonderful! No, he was a colossal addle-headed fuckup. His wife isn’t much better. Let’s hope Frances sees what her parents have done and run screaming the other way.

Oh, Michael was wonderful! No, Michael was a symbol of what is wrong with us today. We as a country excused his behavior because he was so screwed up in the head (oh poor Michael! [insert excuse here]), and he had the money to beat the rap. He wasn’t wonderful; he was psycho and a kiddie diddler.

Oh, Teddy was so wonderful! No, he never thought the rules applied to him to the point where causing someone’s death was a point of humor throughout his life. He wasn’t above sexually accosting waitresses in his favorite restaurants. Holy Christ! The audacity, the ego,  in sending a letter to the Pope so he could be exonerated… what an arrogant bastard.

Please, can we please stop glorifying people who are not good people, who are never sorry for what they’ve done to others, who never lived anything close to the golden rule?

I know, I know: ratings, baby.

My DC Trip and a Surprising Event

I think our week’s foray into the Smithsonian Forest was one of the very best vacations we have ever been on. Not only did we get boatloads of exercise, but we hit so many things that it was only last night when I was sorting pics that I realized how  much we accomplished. We hit several Smithsonian museums – The Castle, Natural History,  Air & Space, National Indian, NPG/National Art, Library of Congress, National History, et al – as well as the Mall, Capitol Hill, the Lincoln Memorial and Mt. Vernon.  When in Baltimore, we hit Ft. McHenry (which is REALLY well done and enjoyable) and would have done more had not a rather nasty rainstorm moved in.

As is our habit, DH and I on at least one day of longer trips such as this split and do our own thing. On Saturday he went and did the Library of Congress by himself and went and saw a movie. I sat at Starbucks right there across our hotel, journaled, and generally was lazy (well, dammit, my feet hurt!)

Up until 5:30p on Friday night, I didn’t think that a certain event would happen. Communications via text and FB with this person essentially boiled down to “I don’t know,” which is not encouraging. So I kept telling myself If it doesn’t happen, it doesn’t happen, and there’s nothing I could do about it. And I was prepared to deal with my trace of unsurprising disappointment up until my phone rang in the hotel lobby at 5:30 on Friday night.

 ~~

For the backstory of this next installment of this sordid story, you need to read this Confession Session. You’ll have to read this to follow the next chapter in this story. Do that first, or nothing that follows this paragraph will make sense.

 Go on, I’m not going anywhere.

~~

Last Fall, I was talking to “Ryan,” Joe’s son, on FB. I have a friendship with him separate from his father’s – sort of an cyber-aunt, internet counselor deal. He sought me out, knowing that his father doesn’t relate well to people in general, so I responded. It has since become a pretty decent friendship.  Ryan had friended me in FB late last year, so there I was, commenting on his wall, ribbing him as I always do, going back and forth. Joe had posted his own jab in the foray, and I responded only to Ryan’s stuff on purpose. I didn’t want to get entangled again. I did, however, at the end of my last response say, “Hi Joe.” Why be a bitch?

I’m certain that it was less than fifteen seconds (yes, seconds, and certainly no more than thirty) when a friend request popped up on my screen. I stared at that sucker for the longest time. A war – not a battle, a war – was raging in my head. Do I? Don’t I? Is it worth it? Am I setting myself up for yet another stupid fall if I click “Accept”? Questions upon questions piled on potential scenarios. My brain was very crowded and there was smoke coming out of my ears. And the bottom line was, I realized, that if I chose to click “Accept,” I needed to have no expectations. None whatsoever.

 I clicked to accept.

Friday Ramblings

Thank God it’s Friday.

~~

On FB, one of my friends is posting statuses and pics from her cell phone as she drives to California.

I
DO
NOT
GIVE
A
FLYING
SHIT!!!

I have driven that stretch of highway so many times that I do not need a blow by blow of your drive, and I don’t need pics of the nozzle in the car while you’re getting gas along the Arizona-California border! Or pics of your dog with a quizzical look on its face! Or the dog with its face out the window!

AAAARGH!

So I hid this person from my front page on FB until she gets back into town. I just can’t take it.

~~

Over at Meant to Be, DH and I are certified to adopt. WOO HOO!!!

~~

The Sotomayor hearings are garbage. At least Jon Kyl attempted to keep her on track… but she was evasive on many hot-button questions, and I don’t like that. I don’t like her ruling on the FF case, which was flawed in the extreme. I don’t like her views on white men. It pisses me off that if this were reversed, and it was a Republican president’s nominee, she would be crucified for her refusal to answer questions directly or questions on her previous rulings. The hypocrisy really pisses me off. And it scared me that such a person – man or woman – will be deciding law in this country. Lord have mercy.

And don’t believe the hype: she will NOT be the first Hispanic sitting on the bench on the SCOTUS. That honor actually goes to Benjamin Cardozo of Portuguese descent. And sorry, yes, the Portuguese are considered Hispanic, no matter how the media tries to spin it. Nice try.

That said, poor Justice Cardozo is probably spinning in his grave at the antics in the hearings this week.

~~

Personal note to Sarah Palin: SHUT UP. Please. Just go away, go underground for awhile or longer, and stay away from political events and the media. Please, for fuck’s sake! Thanks.

Personal note to Levi Johnston: You’re a douchebag of the highest order. Bristol should have been shot for sleeping with you (with or without birth control), then you should have been shot so you’d never breed. I hope you never breed again – we don’t need your brand of self-centered, stupid, douchenozzle garbage. I hope your kid winds up hating you for the attention whore and selfish bastard that you are. EABOD, STFU and go the hell away.

Personal note to the mainstream media: You, at large, are a waste of carbon. You ignore the bloodletting in Iran, give a pass to various politicians, all to crucify Palin and give ridiculous amounts of column space to that teenaged piece of shit because it’s ratings. Die in a fire, all of you.

~~

 

Speaking of media hype, the Michael Jackson death circus has been tiring. I hope the hoopla dies soon, but it won’t  – not if Joe or LaToya have a say in it. Garbage, complete garbage.

~~

DH is a crushed mess from work, and I’m mentally worn out from two weeks of obsessing about our adoption profile. We’re going to DC for a week, a much needed respite.

~~

I have a dear friend in my thoughts – S has the life from hell right now. S’s dad had an aortic aneurysm about a year ago, and the family spent half a million dollars to save him. What does he do? Sit on his ass, ignore doctor’s orders, stuff his face and be a complete idiot. He has another weak spot on the artery, which he ignores. He was recently diagnosed with prostate cancer, so without checking what the side effects would be, he chooses a form of therapy… no big deal, except it’s contraindicated by his high blood pressure… which aggravates the weak spot. S wants to shoot him for his ridiculous stupidity.

Add to this hell is S’s mother’s saga. She’s not in the best of health, either. She went in to get test results from a growth (one of several in various stages) and the doctor scheduled her surgery  later the same week – and THAT doesn’t happen unless the doc is seriously concerned about what he saw. Hopefully it’s not cancerous… but like S said, the doc’s reaction makes one think that the news is not good.

So keep my dear friend in your thoughts. He’s just beside himself – he’s their sole caretaker as his brother is completely selfish and useless. I’ve been in similar shoes and I’ll be thinking of him all weekend.

~~

I have to plan and pack. Can’t wait to get out of here for a few days. Have a great weekend!

Disillusioned

A few weeks ago, I was enjoying a rare pedicure (at DH’s insistence… oh, darn), and of course the lady and I were talking about this and that. She brought up the elections in Iran, as she is Iranian, having come to the States during the upheavals after 1979. She didn’t have much good to say about the one referred to derisively on the Internet as “Ahmadinnerjacket.” Straw man, false face, you name it. She couldn’t contact her relatives in her native village, and she was worried.

This was a few days before the protests began in earnest, and the riot police, and Neda, and horrifying pictures leaked by the protesters, and an unknown substance being dropped from a helicopter onto the protesters, and disappearances of protesters, and shooting them and making their bodies disappear, and blocking of hospitals and embassies, and shutting down Internet access. It was before I knew  that “PK” referred to the very reliable  Twitterer called “pe.rsi.an.k.iwi” and other people trying to get around the media blackout to let the world know what is really happening in Iran.

From this world event, I had my suspicions confirmed in that the mainstream media (MSM), once the beacon of information, is now inept, corrupt, infected with glitz and ego, and is useless. I wondered why the MSM refused to cover the horror that was happening there, instead blathering about the impending demise of Jon and Kate and other useless things. Fox jumped on the bandwagon a little late, but at least they tried to be accurate; CNN was blatantly inaccurate, and far too late to the game, and they had Christiane Amanpour sucking up to the regime in power—they lost credibility in many eyes. What a shame.

It’s a shame that to be in the know, you had to be following the events in newsgroups or news aggregator sites on the Internet, because you couldn’t find jack shit on TV or the radio. My personal preference, Fark, had something like 45 numbered separate threads (of 1500-2000 posts per thread!) in the week following the elections with centralized updates by the now-legendary Farker knows as Tatsuma, who continues his work in his blog, Yaakov’s Lament - I strongly suggest you drop by and read his blog.  

Here is today’s unnumbered post on Fark - numbering stopped somewhere after thread 45 or 46 – someone figured out how many actual posts were there, and it was becoming frightening to those joining the fray far too late. Anyway, Farkers and other newsgroups sorted through the chaff in Twitter to mine the legitimate Twitterers out of Iran and gave pertinent, truthful, and near real-time updates. People set aside their personal issues with one another to rally behind the cause, do research, post information and were careful to label it confirmed, unconfirmed, or rumor, then added sources whenever possible. Others set up personal proxy servers so that the Iranians could continue to circumvent the government communications blackout.  There wasn’t much those of us here in the States could do to directly help, but proxies, contributing to the Red Crescent (Red Cross equivalent), and disseminating truthful information as much as possible were done in the spirit of international brotherhood.

Let me just say that if you happen to see someone on the street with a green ribbon on their wrist, it’s likely that they’ve been following the REAL stories coming out of poor Iran.

Facebook, Twitter, and the Internet in general are changing the face of revolutions everywhere. Information that used to be ruthlessly suppressed is now getting out not just to locals, but to the entire world.

Think about it: what would the Russian Revolution (1917-1918) have been like had the Whites been able to instantaneously request help and overwhelm the Reds? Would the Imperial Family have been saved from their ghastly murders?  What about the American Revolution (1775-83) or the French Revolution (1789-99) if, instead of months passing while news crawled across seas, land, and oceans before word of anything got out, they had instant communications with the outside? How different history would have been!

If the only effect the weeks of protests have is their current government being revealed as a sham to the world at large, then the Sea of Green has not truly failed.  The mullahs and the corrupt politicians cannot stem the thirst for a modern society with modern freedoms, and cannot continue to insist on a Dark Ages regime when the people are exposed to the world at large. They cannot, as has been reported today, hang protesters and hide it – the world is now too small. There are eyes everywhere and evil cannot hide anymore.

My prayers are with those in the Sea of Green, whose original aim was to insist on a legitimate election free from fraud, and whose fight has turned into something far greater: the triumph of good over evil.

Peace be upon you, my Iranian friends. You are not alone.

Arsonist of Esperanza Fire Gets Death Sentence

Read here and here. Five counts of first degree murder. Move your piece to Death Row. Do not pass Go. Do not collect $200.

The fact that Oyler was sentenced to death will never bring back the crew of Engine 57. It won’t bring back Jason McKay, Jess McLean, Daniel Hoover-Najera, Mark Loutzenhiser, and Pablo Cerda. The first three died at the scene; Lotzi died several hours later, and Pablo died a few days later, on Halloween. The debt will never be redeemed. Never. There’s no such thing as an eye for an eye. The scales will never level out.

And his execution won’t happen any time soon – there will be appeal after appeal, and stay after stay. We all know the story. He’ll live well within the walls of the prison, live better than any innocent, down on their luck homeless person. Justice? What’s justice?

I wonder how the family feels. Relief? Sorrow? Do they feel justice has been done? Is there closure? Will life truly go on?

Oh yes, I agree with the sentence. I would have been part of the mob had there been one. I cried for a straight week when Lotzi and the crew were killed. When they released the picture of the scene of the fatality and knew at once they’d had no chance, I cried harder. I cried when I heard about everyone’s back story, and other things I know that I can’t divulge because they’re private and confidential (let’s just say I know more than the public does, even though I haven’t been on the Forest for eleven years). I was cried out and numb by the time I got into my sister’s vehicle and went to the memorial at Glen Helen. I pray to God I never have to witness another. I cried when I read that joke of an incident report.

It’s not just because I was once of the ranks of those in the green trucks; it’s because I knew Lotzi during my time there, and because my sister knew Lotzi very well for twenty years. I mourn because there are five less fine and upstanding contributing members of society. I still know many of the people on the Forest, and always worried that one day, it would be one of our own. I mourn because I’ve spent a horrific week in the burn ward from a freak accident, know what it’s like to be treated for third degree burns, and in the end, I essentially walked away and came back to work.

They didn’t walk away. They had no chance. The fire set by Oyler burned so hot and so fast that as soon as anyone with any fire knowledge saw the pictures when they were released, knew the crew of Engine 57 never had a chance. It’s a travesty and a tragedy, and those left behind will mourn forever.

A part of my heart from this incident will always be heavy because I’ve pulled the hose and humped the hills with a pack on my back on the engines, been part of a near-burnover (and spent a terrifying fifteen minutes thinking that another crew I was close to had been), been flown into fires and was a stump-jumper, a ground pounder, a Hot Shot.

And once you’ve been part of the fire community, and particularly the wildland fire community, it is always a part of you.

At least this chapter is closed, but I don’t know if the book ever will be.

Gripe for the Day & Rundown of the Ireland Trip

Gripe for the Day: we have those ridiculous photo radar vans everywhere. On the way to work this morning, on a part of the freeway system that never hits the posted speed limit from 6a-9a, there was a van sitting under an underpass.

Now, you just can’t tell me that it’s there for public safety – everyone’s bumper to bumper, going maybe 30 mph.

Think about it: some schmuck is sitting in that van for X dollars an hour. This schmuck isn’t going to garner a single photo radar ticket in the next three hours, and probably not for the entire time he’ll be camping there since it’s a 65 zone. So, right off the bat, it’s a venture that loses money: running vehicle burning gas that is suddenly $2.50 a gallon, the poor sod making some minimal amount per hour, with no income.

Just remember who pays for it. We do.

Public safety, my fat ass.

~~

Now, finally, I can get around to posting on Ireland.

Ireland was picturesque and wonderful. I had the pull to never, ever leave; if there weren’t a certain man here in town I was really partial to, I might have just found myself a job.

SIL really outdid herself in the planning, from the circuit we took in the southwest of Ireland (Counties Clare, Cork, Tipperary, Kerry, Limerick, etc) to the choice of chauffeur who drove us around (I’d be happy to recommend him). Great job, and perfection.

And there were places – like the Rock of Cashel – and times – like when I was listening to the uilleann pipes (as opposed to the ones in Scotland  more commonly seen) at a small concert – where I had this odd internal hum, this pull, memories of places and scenes that I know damn well I’ve never been to, and I’m thinking that perhaps it’s a racial or genetic memory?

I’m not one for rebirth, previous lives, or parapsychology; I’m no Shirley McLaine. I’m too much of a cynical realist for that. But this was weird: internal sensations, images of places, people, and things long destroyed by Ireland’s destructive and violent history.

I guess I’m just a freak.

~~

The downside to the Ireland trip  – and the possibilityof it which made me pause in accepting the offer to go in the first place - was the rotten, deliberate behavior of MIL.

A New Experience

After roughly 22 hours of travel on Saturday, I’m now dealing with the effects of, and my first experience with, jet lag.

It sucks.

More later, when I get my body clock back in gear/

Mad! Mad! Mad! and other crap

Yesterday was a long, frustrating day at work. The day started out with Boss in a snit. Everything went down from there. I grabbed a bagel for lunch, then wandered Baker Nursery for the rest of my lunch hour, then went back to my office. This is important because I bought stuff at Baker and put it in my trunk.

I was two hours late from my normal departure time, getting out of work. I walked to my car, my brain full of all the things I need to do to prep for Sunday’s dinner  – set table, go shopping, etc. I get in the car and start to pull out from the parking spot. I hear this scraping, and I’m thinking, Oh damn, the freaking undercarriage cover has fallen down again. So I stop, put it in park, and go to the front of the car to inspect it. Yep, it fell. I have no tools in the car - and after a brief moment of thought remembered that there wouldn’t be any in the office either – so I decide to drive home like that, scraping away.

On the way home, frantic and tired because my day has been completely shot by things at work, I talk to DH about what he wants me to pick up for dinner; we agree on blackened chicken caesar salads from Charlestons. When I got to that parking lot, I had enough presence of mind to look for somewhere I can pull through so I don’t have to back up and cause more damage to that undercarriage cover.

The bright part of my day was my dear friend M calling while I’m waiting for the order to go. Much needed chat. Miss her.

The order comes, I end the conversation, grab the stuff and head back to the car. As I approach the front of the car (facing west), I glance at the bottom of the front bumper. And I realize that it’s scored to hell. I’m thinking, No, I haven’t pulled up to the curb in a long time because of that damned undercarriage cover, so it wasn’t me… Then it hit me: HOLY SHIT, SOMEONE HIT ME! Back at the office!

 I race to the back of the car and lo and behold, there’s a huge dent in my bumper. Just huge, as if the corner of a steel bumper hit it at probably 10-15 mph. the fucking idiot who backed into my car yesterday in the parking lot at work hit my rear bumper so hard that they shoved the front end into the curb, thereby ripping off the undercarriage cover in the front, as well as effin’ up my bumper and trunk.

I was enraged. And there had been no note, and I know nobody came to the doors of the offices. What a chickenshit! I drove home in a boiling acid rage – rare for me – because this is the very last thing we need right now (the annual bloodletting called taxes, the IRA we have to set up, and a sick kitty who’s been ramping up the bills).

DH walked in, his face incredulous. “Baby, what happened to your car?” I sat at the kitchen table, eating my salad in suppressed fury, stabbing at the lettuce. Even in my fury, I was hungry. “Someone hit me in the parking lot while I was working.” He spent his evening taking off portions of the stupid undercarriage and talking to the insurance people. I spent the evening fuming and cleaning out the car (and I can’t close the trunk, so therefore it’s not drivable).

That was the frosting on my Thursday, a long and difficult day as it was.

I picked up a rental this morning. Pain in the ass Enterprise – they never have cars ready. And I had them wipe off the steering wheel because someone splattered their latte all over it. Disgusting. It was the only one available and I had to get to work, so I said screw it, I’ll wash it. And it only had barely a 1/4 tank of gas. Bastards.

~~ 

 “Fidel Castro asks US lawmakers how to improve ties”, 4/8/09 – OK, doesn’t this scare you? If it doesn’t, it should. It really, really should. The other part of this story you should be scared of is that the United States sent government envoys to the Castro brothers. Holy cow.

 

Be afraid. Be very afraid.

~~ 

Jessica Simpson’s country singing days may be ending. Good! Now if she’d just leave Tony Romo alone and go the hell away, everyone would be happier.

 

~~

Octard is back: this completely effed up chick who once said that the IVF for her babies was paid for by her personal injury settlement money, now says that it was paid for by an inheritance. OK lady, which is it? She has serious, serious issues, on top of being a chronic liar.

And she used to be a stripper. Ew. Pre-plastic surgery, she was very average looking with a body very much like mine (post-surgery, she’s even scarier). On one hand, I doubt it; on the other hand, with her attention deficiency problems, it’s probable.

Oh, and now she’s supposed to be getting her own series. I propose that whoever is buying ad air space for the show—assuming it ever hits the air—should be boycotted by the general public. This attention whore needs to go away NOW.

~~

This next topic has a “Duh Disclaimer”: obviously, if you’re using the product under discussion in a creative manner, or are not flooding the world with stupid shit, then I’m not talking about you. Now take the broomstick out of your butt.

Now:

All I see is this Twitter crap everywhere. Everyone. With the most mundane things. Twitter is terribly narcissistic. Look at me, I’m an attention whore! I’m going to tell the world every stupid thing that comes to mind! Woohoo!

Does America really have that short of an attention span now? Gah, don’t answer that. No, I don’t need to know your stream of conscious thought. I don’t need to know what you had for lunch. I don’t need to know you took a crap. Or that your kid took a crap. So no, I don’t need to know every stupid detail of your life.

I was browsing for some information on the question of how Twitter’s going to raise revenue when I came across this gem in the comments section of a semi-related article”

“I use Twitter constantly and in the past week I’ve gotten an interview with a Voice of America reporter, gotten mentioned in a BusinessWeek article, and found a replacement nanny, all solely because of Twitter! the thing about Twitter is the investment is super-low (compared to many other social media), but the potential payoff is huge. it’s a great way to meet people (no one knows if you ‘unfollow’ them so you can follow just long enough to find out if they’re talking about things that interest you) and if you follow the right people, you can learn some amazing things. I get nearly all my news from Twitter these days!”

Ah, gotta love the zany humor. But it’s a valid point – it’s getting to the point where it’s ridiculous. Just wait until a zillion teenagers take it over and kill it.

I just thought of a simile that’s eerily apt: most of the time, and now that it’s hitting the mainstream, Twitter is becoming something like Barrens Chat in World of Warcraft: stupid, inane crap from people who are best left alone in their lonely little world dark dirty room in Mom’s house.

Just remember: the root of “twitter” is “twit.”

And Twitter does make people look like twits. When will people learn?

~~

I wish everyone lurking a wonderful and blessed Easter!!

 

 

 

Monday Meandering

First, the Litany of Fail:

What in the HELL was the President doing on Leno? Does he not have enough to do? FAIL. Someone in the local paper wrote in wondering if Obama realized that the campaign is over.

And brackets with a whiteboard that cost the taxpayers how much? FAIL. GBTW, man. I’m having better luck with my brackets and I pulled my choices out of my ass, too. I haven’t followed college hoops seriously in years. That said, GO WILDCATS!

And giving the commencement speech at Notre Dame when he is diametrically opposed to the Catholic Church: FAIL for both ND and Obama (see below for more).

The knee-jerk reaction to Natasha Richardson’s tragic fatal accident re helmets: FAIL

Last week, there was a camera van on I-10 at the Warner underpass at 7:45 in the morning, when the traffic never gets above 40 mph in the 65 zone. FAIL, a wasteful one

Fritzl (the Austrian incest nutcase) gets psychiatric care for life instead of imprisonment. FAIL.

His daughter is traumatized by a British paparazzo who snuck into her kitchen to take pictures. FAIL … scum!

The AIG bonus mess? Freaking frickity frak MEGAFAIL. WTF? Boss tried to explain it away that there are many branches of AIG, but the problem is that the bonuses are going to the guys in the troubled division. So FAIL for AIG, and FAIL for ignorance.

The landed fish attitude re this debacle by the president and Congress: FAIL.

~~

On FB, an old classmate of mine got married over the weekend. Last Monday afternoon, this classmate put the status as “Is looking for pictures from the WEDDING!!! Any pics are wanted and needed. PLEASE POST!” So you got married (and picked a picturesque outdoor locale to boot), and didn’t bother to hire a photographer, and now are begging everyone for theirs? I thought that was sorta weird and sorta tacky.

It looked like it was a sorta weird/sorta tacky wedding, too. The girls were gussied up in pretty full-length dresses, but the guys were in khakis and very casual, button down, short sleeve shirts that aren’t meant to be tucked in (can’t think of the name of them for the life of me, but they’re worn around here mostly by elderly Hispanic men). But, whatever – as long as they’re happy and have a happy life, to a point, who gives a damn?

But the pictures the people posted were interesting.

~~

This weekend was much better than anticipated (I was truly dreading it). I’d put the bug in Sis’s ear about where Dad would prefer to go for his b-day dinner, and when she got home, she learned that it was the truth. So Friday I get the text “[restaurant] it is.” Saturday, she texts me and said that B3 has lost it. He sent her a dozen crazy incomplete text messages, very whiny lies such as ‘I’m not feeling good, I don’t feel like driving, I had my boarding pass,” blah blah blah… the bottom line was that he was no longer in control of the situation and he was having a hissy fit like a spoiled brat.

I’m beginning to wonder if he’s having mental issues. No, seriously. His reactions to things are not rational. He completely flips out when he is not in control of things. He reads into innocuous things, and his reactions to these innocuous things are so out there that I’ve started to wonder.

And I’m so very glad B3 had the hissy fit and decided not to come (Dad had said to Sis that he too was glad, as B3 would have started shit and made it a miserable night). We had a wonderful, stress free time. Dinner was mellow and wonderful. We went home, had cake, and we played Monopoly until midnight. The only bad thing was that Dad had pulled a muscle in his back and went to bed early.

We didn’t say much in terms of the situation, but we all simply chatted and my sister drank her chardonnay and my nephew had beginners luck and was kicking ass. I faded and fell asleep in the front room at 11 or so (old lady syndrome).

~~

The last several times I have gone to Pima Canyon, the place has been jammed. Not the “busy” I referred to in a previous post: jammed. I mean to the hilt. What in the hell? It used to be this quiet little enclave on the backside of the Pointe South Mountain, and now it’s been discovered. I’ve never seen it where there are absolutely NO parking spaces.

I’ve had to retreat to Papago Park instead, which isn’t as much of a workout. However, Papago is better because it’s a quieter place, despite it being right in the Sky Harbor flight path. Quieter means less people yakking on their cell phones or less people broadcasting their conversations over a quarter mile radius with their walking partner.

~~

The site of what used to be The Rink (Scottsdale Road/Curry in north Tempe) was a boat store for a long time (yes, a boat store fifty or more miles from any lake). Cutting through on Curry Road on my way to REI in Mesa, I was stopped at the light and looked to my left. The site is now vacant,which is not surprising in light of the economy. Too bad I don’t have the capital – I’d put The Rink right back where it belongs. Oh well. The thought is nice.

~~

In related news, I have seen signs of roller hockey’s making a quiet little comeback. I got stuck with a pair of pants that will never fit my fat ass, and I wandered to the Big 5 in Ahwatukee. There they have a nice little collection of roller hockey stuff, including the lightweight pants that I remember, rather than a pair of stupid heavy sweatpants that was sent to me. And they fit nicely. Nyah.

Speaking of those stupid pants, Hockeydawgs.com is dragging its feet in refunding my money for a pair of “roller hockey pants” that are NOT roller hockey pants; they are essentially a pair of sweatpants, much too heavy for the sweaty business of roller hockey. I finally got a response from the rep I was dealing with just this morning, after a week of silence and after I finally sent a nudge – “status, please?” Their customer service sucks in general SUCKS and I’ll more than likely never go through hockeydawgs.com again. Mad.

~~

Yesterday, I went to Bass Pro Shop in that huge Mesa outdoor mall because they sell lots and lots of boots. Knee-high specialty hunting and hiking boots with miles of lacing, etc., you know, all sorts. I went there to get some lace hooks because I can’t quite get the first few eyeholes on my skates tight enough. I asked the person in the shoe department if they sold lace hooks—it stood to figure, right? They have lots of boots with lots of laces, and therefore, theoretically, have lace hooks.

She looked at me as if I had six heads.

I looked online this morning. Who has lace hooks? Behind the Mask… one is near my house. They have lace hooks, and specifically for skates. Derrrrrr… but at least I knew I wasn’t crazy. I knew there were such things.

Now I want to smack that lady at Bass Pro Shop.

~~

The hockey clinics, by the by, are an exercise in sore progression. The first night, after twenty minutes, my ankles were EN FUEGO!! FIREFIREFIREFIRE!!! OMG, my ankles burned like a mofo. I felt fine otherwise, but was sore for the next couple of days. Last week, residual ankle fire/weakness, but now the lower back knots up; no soreness after. This is exactly why I’m doing the clinics instead of jumping right into a league. I need that help. I figure I’ll do this spring session of clinics, and then the summer session, then I’ll be ready for a fall league.

~~

My boss comes in this morning chock full of reactionary paranoia. Notre Dame has Obama speaking at their commencement  and giving him an honorary degree. Boss (and some of his cronies) are convinced that it’s a conspiracy to destroy the Catholic universities and stamp out Catholicism and Catholic stances.

It’s WAY too early on a Monday for this kind of crap. Seriously. I need more coffee before I can deal with this crap.

That said, proffering an honorary degree from a Catholic university to a man who is solidly against several well-known stances of the Church is a mite hypocritical, and not a little dangerous. I’m not going into this mire of social, ethical and religious conflicts today. Needless to say, the switchboard at ND has been lit up like a Christmas tree. This is not going to be good.

~~

It’s going to be a wacky week. More later.

Unstable Dynamite

As I have commented before, I find Fa.cebook (yeah the spam filters are filling up, so…) to be an insane place. Where else can I find two dear friends I haven’t seen in 20 years? I would not have found them in any conventional way–we definitely went on our own paths as diverse as humanly possible. The excitement in finding each other might just shift the earth’s rotational pattern… I know that one of them could hear my SQUEEEEEEE!!! from most of the way across the country. And as I quickly posted on my sister blog, my MIL’s BFF wants to add me. I’m still conflicted.

It is interesting, too, some of these groups one can join as part of Fa.cebook. One in particular is kind of iffy for me, and I flinch when I check up on it.

A group has been created for a former school I attended, and one post is fraught with the sorts of things best left alone on a public forum. Namely, a former teacher and coach (Let’s call him “T” for teacher)  of mine was busted for sleeping with a former student many years ago. It was all over the local papers–I wasn’t even in the state at the time, but I had people sending me news clippings about it. T was an extremely popular teacher and coach,which I think masked the events in question in that it blinded people to what had happened–oh, no, T’s so popular, so cool, that’s not possible! Also, in my opinion, he was a gifted instructor both in the classroom and in the sport he coached, and he essentially wasted his career for po.ontang.