P.C. Nation
Posted on April 14, 2007 - Filed Under Uncategorized
With all the ridiculous crap that has gone on in the last several years, I seriously wonder what has happened to America, land of the free. We’ve gone from a nation of rugged individuals to a bunch of whining, whimpy, self-absorbed cry-babies. Frankly, it’s embarrassing.
Once upon a time it was admirable to use good old American know-how to make things, manufacture modern conveniences, make people’s lives easier with innovative solutions. Now, it’s practically a crime to have a big business, offer a service or product much less expect the consumer to use the product with a modicum of common sense.
Political Correctness has all but destroyed free speech. It has spawned the thought police, cigarette police, fat police, speech police, drinking police, teaching police, holiday police, news police, voting police and self-appointed police for any other activity a free citizen in this country might want to consider doing, saying and thinking.
It has gone from a sarcastic phrase to the way people actually conduct themselves. Thanks to p.c. we have hate crimes. Now, am I crazy or are there actually crimes that don’t involve some sort of hatred? We have hate speech (which is a fall-back postion in case the hate crime label doesn’t cover it) which used to be called free speech. Don’t get me wrong - I don’t believe that people who spew racial slurs, insults, or obscentities are heroes or anything. But we do have free speech in this country. So if some ignorant ass wants to prove what an ignorant ass he is, he has the right. Can you say Don Imus?
Whole groups of Americans are no longer satisfied to be Americans, they prefer the hyphen: Afro-Americans, Mexican-Americans, Muslim-Americans, Soviet-Americans, Cuban-Americans, Gay-Americans, Bi-Americans, Transgendered-Americans. (Which by the way, have hyphenated in order to become lobbying blocs to acheive political aims - aka special interest groups.)When did the melting pot that America once proudly touted as her basis become multi-culturalism? When did we start being anti-American? (Now there’s a hyphen for you)
Aren’t we all just Americans? After all, I don’t call myself a Euro-American because my ancestors are from Ireland and Germany. I’m just a…well, I’m just an American. And proud of it too. Of course, that will soon be against the law too and the multi-cultural police will be coming for me.
I have to tell you, I’m sick of it. I’m sick of the fact that you can no longer say what you think. That you have to think before you speak lest you offend somebody. Lest they have the likes of Jesse Jackson or Al Sharpton in their rollodex. God forbid, I don’t feel sorry for the basketball team who are now scarred for life. Or the terrorist who is being held in prison (whilst getting prayer rugs, vegetarian meals, free dental and medical, care of my tax dollars) for being a terrorist. Or the murderer who killed people in cold blood and now that he’s on Death Row is repentant. Because if I say they are all full of shit and need to grow some balls then I’m a fucking ,insensitive, social pariah.
The irony to me is that possibly only 5% of the people I know and come into contact with are politically correct - the others are like me. They have opinions, try to be decent people but don’t go along to get along. Yet, that 5% seems to be running the show.
When the hell did that happen? When did we give these losers permission to force all of us into fear of speaking our minds, living our lives, having our vices and going about our business? Who the hell made them the boss of us? I really want to know.
My fantasy is to find a really big island which we can call the P.C. Nation and force all of those morons to live there. Then they can go crazy scolding one another and bossing each other around and telling each other how to live their lives. And leave us the hell alone.
We can do food drops, newspaper drops and maybe give them a couple of cable feeds. We will not, however, give them anything that is produced by big business, emits carbons, contains any trans-fats, nicotene, pornography, alcohol, religious symbols, holiday themes, chemicals, fertilizers, fossil fuels, endangered any white mice during the production, fiberglass, plastic, paper, nuclear power or any other modernly produced product that is not wholly and completely from the natural sources. Therefore they get dirt and their ideas. They will have to figure out how to feed themselves without killing anything, create compost heaps from their bodily waste, fuel their vehicles, light and warm their homes with wind and solar power, weave their own fabrics, ropes and hairdos. They will not have manicures, pedicures, facials, starbuck’s, Macey’s, Gap jeans, Sketchers, BMWs or any other evil product of the non-politically correct.
And we can force them to have Algore as their president. That way, at least one of them will get their dream and be happy. And they can be assured of having at least one film to show in their movie house.
They will simply have to live their lives by the code and creedo that they have dictated to us lo, these many years. It could be a great reality show. I’d give it about 2 years before it likened the Wild, Wild West.
What do you think? Are you with me? Should I call a realtor?
WC
So Many Obsessions, so Little Time
Posted on April 13, 2007 - Filed Under Blogging, Feedback, I gots to have it, WTF?, Writers, meme, my opinions, obsession, writing
I’ve been tagged by Interstellar Lass to do a post about obsessions. Now this is intriguing because I’m not sure I have any obsessions. I can hear laughing out there…but seriously, I’m really not sure I do.
Well, maybe a couple.
I think we can all agree I’m obsessed with blogging. Who’d a thunk it? Last summer when my buddy, Michael asked me to fill in on his blog while he was on vacation, I thought, Jeez, blogging? Plus the whole thing made me nervous because it seemed so cliquey. As though it was his private club and I’d be crashing. I didn’t think his fellow club members would be interested in anything I had to say or wanted to write about it.
But he was so persuasive and is a good friend, so I decided I’d give it a try. It was only for a week after all and you can pretty much do anything for a week without gagging. Right? So, off I went. My first post was entitled Cream Boogers. To say I was surprised by the response puts it mildly. Like Sally I thought they like me, they really like me! Then I was hooked.
The week ended quickly and I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Within a week I had my own blog. And so it began. I learned about hits and stats and stat counters, and links and photobucket and blogrolls and the whole enchilada. I was a blogger from that day forward. And though I bellyache about it sometimes, I doubt I could ever stop blogging.
I’m also obsessed with chocolate. So much so that I will not be able to get the image of a snickers out of my mind (I’m talking days) until I actually get one. Or whatever chocolate obsession is popular with me that week. I can always find a reason to have chocolate. Always.
Books, love books. Not because I’m a writer, though that doesn’t hurt - but because I love climbing into other worlds and leaving my world behind. I love fiction more than nonfiction, but I’m also nutso about the self-help books, the starting your own business books, marketing books and books about art and artists. I always have at least 30 books in the cue that I simply must read. As well as favorite books I want to reread and try to force on others (can you say, Atlas Shrugged?). My local library has a fantastic second hand book store and sell 5 paperbacks for a dollar and hardbacks for 50 cents to 2 bucks. I’ve even found some rare books there. Who needs Barnes and Noble’s?
Talking. Now, I’m not sure talking really classifies as an obsession since we all have to talk. But I don’t mean chit-chat kind of talking. I mean those deep, philosophical, swift exchanging of ideas that matter. The kind of talking that keeps you at Starbuck’s or on the phone til all hours because you just can’t stop, because really it’s the most fun you can have without taking your clothes off kind of talking. Oh yeah, I can talk until my vocal chords shrivel up.
And last but not least, writing. I have written in one form or another since I could write. As far back as I can remember I have written stories. I have been fascinated with the human condition and putting that fascination into the form of stories or poems. Writing to me has been my mother confessor, my friend, my touchstone, my comfort, my refuge, my joy and my heartbreak. It has always been the way I have processed anything. It is the conduit that has connected or disconnected me from the world. I honestly think that if I ever stopped writing I would die. The body might stick around for a bit but my soul would be as dead as a doornail. It is what and who I am, for better or for worse.
Alrighty then, I think that is more than enough obsessions for one post, probably for the decade. And now, you probably know way more about me than you care to know.
How about you? What are your obsessions? Anybody out there who wants to be tagged, consider yourself tagged. Or just share your obsessions here. You know me, love the chatty comments. Go crazy.
WC
PS: How’s that, Lass?
Is Reflection a Bad Thing?
Posted on April 12, 2007 - Filed Under Blogging, Feedback, Random Thoughts, Writers, art, introspection, my opinions, reflections, writing
Lately it seems I’ve been stumbling upon various posts that complain about the introspective (selfish?) nature of bloggers. Too self involved, too much ME and not enough THEM or IT (I guess?).
It made me wonder because recently I’ve been writing some ‘think’ pieces. Have I been just thinking out loud, instead of writing? Thoughts that shouldn’t be spoken or written but kept to myself? Maybe I’ve just been bumming y’all out without realizing it. Cringe. And hey, maybe that’s something bloggers shouldn’t do. Or maybe it’s just something I shouldn’t do?
Is it arrogant to think that anyone out there is interested in my inner thoughts? Could be they’re ‘inner’ for a reason. Hmmm.
But if that’s the case, doesn’t that violate that old writer’s chestnut about writing what one knows? The goal of writing in part is to write it real and to be true and honest in what we write. If that’s the case, then how can we write without looking inward and reporting what we find there?
Is reflection part of that or is it just pure indulgence? I really don’t know - so please feel free to jump in and offer your opinions about it.
We all have our reasons for blogging - we all write for a reason, but isn’t it a universal truth that writers (or any artist for that matter) write because they feel they have a voice and want it to be heard. That they have something to say? I mean, somebody has to say something, don’t they? Even writers/bloggers who write as though they are above it all - aren’t they really just espousing their opinions too? Aren’t they writing from the core they call self?
I don’t know - it could be there are those of you out there who can write from the ‘outside’ as observers. Maybe that’s the way it ought to be. But in my mind, if you’re writing from the ‘outside’ as an observer then aren’t you just recording what you see and hear? And if so, are you the origin or just the conduit through which the reporting of facts and events come?
Me? I write from the inside out. It’s my way and always will be. Call it indulgent, call it self-absorbed, call it egotistical - call it whatever you like. For me, it’s the only way to go.
What about you? From the outside or the inside? Is reflection actually a thing that is better left unsaid and in your head?
WC
Bastard!
Posted on April 11, 2007 - Filed Under Rants/Opinions, WTF?, burn in hell, crap!, dasterdly deeds, little rants, my opinions, rat bastards
Okay, so this weekend was kind of odd and surreal. The weather was like something out of an Emily Bronte novel - in fact, I could almost hear Cathy and Heathcliff whispering to each other - so I immediately went into a sort of hibernation-stasis mode.
To my delight, my friend J was in town and we had dinner and some great conversation and were up til all hours. I caught up on some posts and reading and things seemed, well…okay.
Then I decided to drag my sorry ass out to put gas in the car because of course, I didn’t want to try that on Monday morning. What did my eyes see? Broken tail light glass shattered in the middle of the street. I thought, I better pick that up because I don’t want to drive over that. Which I did…and then some little voice said, oh-oh. I didn’t want to, no, I really didn’t but I walked back to look at the back of my car. There is was - a big gash and broken tail light. My beautiful car has been hit and then they ran.
Bastard, bastard, bastard all to hell! Shit, damn, fuck! I cried a little because my beautiful car had been marred. It was perfect and now it isn’t. No note. No, I’m sorry. No, nothing. Sonofagun!
Roomie helped me retrieve as many of the pieces as we could and is as we speak out there with handyman-guy trying to put the pieces back together. It could be worse, yah, it certainly could be worse - but damn!
Because I didn’t see anything the only thing the police would do is take a phone report for the insurance company. Yeah, like I’m going to tell them about it. Sigh. It’s always something. Crap! Please God, let the tail light still work and just have the cover need replacing. And please God, let my mechanic know some body shop guy who can fix it without it being too painfully expensive. And thank you God, for letting the auto parts place be open so I could buy that stupid red tape to cover it up for now.
I guess that $200 filling is going to have to wait, eh?
Like I said, it could have been worse and I’m thankful it wasn’t too bad. Now, I guess my car is like me - kind of pretty but definitely flawed.
WC
Author, Author
Posted on April 10, 2007 - Filed Under Heroes, Inspirational Words, Writers, american idol, classics, cool cats, favorites, my opinions, tribute, writing
Mark Twain was (and still is today, in my mind) one of the best authors America has ever had to offer. His agile mind never missed a trick of human nature, nor an opportunity to make fun of himself and those around him. My all time favorite book, Letters from Earth, is a must read, if you haven’t already.
Below, (editorial comment mine & in bold) what he has to say about authors:
WC
I have been an author for 20 years and an ass for 55. (I’m working on getting there myself)
- Mark Twain, a Biography
Experience is an author’s most valuable asset; experience is the thing that puts the muscle and the breath and the warm blood into the book he writes. (No argument there)
- Is Shakespeare Dead
Authorship is not a trade, it is an inspiration; authorship does not keep an office, its habitation is all out under the sky, and everywhere the winds are blowing and the sun is shining and the creatures of God are free. (Can I get a witness?)
- A petition to the Queen of England, 1887 (plea for exemption from English tax on royalties)
An author values a compliment even when it comes from a source of doubtful competency. (Yes, we are comment whores, aren’t we?)
- Mark Twain’s Autobiography
I never saw an author who was aware that there is any dimensional difference between a fact and a surmise. (Can you say, poetic license?)
- quoted in My Father Mark Twain, by Clara Clemens
There are three infallible ways of pleasing an author, and the three form a rising scale of compliment: 1, To tell him you have read one of his books; 2, To tell him you have read all of his books; 3, To ask him to let you read the manuscripts of his forthcoming book. No. 1 admits you to his respect; no. 2 admits you to his admiration; No. 3 carries you clear into his heart. (The secrets to a writer’s heart)
- Pudd’nhead Wilson
I’m a Thinker, You’re a Thinker…
Posted on April 9, 2007 - Filed Under Blogging, Writers, favorites, meme, my opinions, tribute, writing
Red of Dr. Pepper is Good for the Soul has been named as a “Thinking Blogger.” Congrats my dear, and well deserved. Nobody cuts through the chaff like you.
She has named five more bloggers as thinkers, and generously included me in her group. How flattered am I? Plenty!
The rules of the meme are simple:
1. If you get tagged, write a post, with links, to 5 blogs that make you think.
2. Link to this post so that people can easily find the exact origin of the meme.
3. Optional: Proudly display the ‘Thinking Blogger Award’ with a link to the post that you wrote. (I’m not sure I did this part right. Me and technology - oy! But I did get the picture right. 
)
Red already tagged Michael of Smoke & Mirrors and Evyl of From Evyl With Love, (dang, she beat me to the punch) two of the most thinkingest blogs out there. And please do believe all she has to say about them - they are magical.
And now onto my five…they are all wonderful and worth the read:
Never Goodbye by Popsgirl is a heartfelt journal of her experience with her father’s descent into dementia. It is always warm, often funny and poignant. You could never walk away without feeling changed somehow by reading her stories of her charismatic father.
Summer’s Child by Mckenzie is one young woman’s journey of bearing her soul and sharing true insight with her readers. She embraces her pain and her joy equally, wearing her scars as proudly as her triumphs.
Brit and Grit by Brit & Grit (natch) It’s funny, it’s whacky, it’s always something new. There is a refreshing sting of satire that runs rampant through this blog. Something for everyone.
Spasmically Perfect by Spaz (to her friends) is like that first warm and fragrant breeze on a summer evening. Her writing is gentle, often profound and always refreshing.
Nanny’s Nook by Anonomum is one woman’s rage against the machine. She is biting, funny as hell and shoots straight from the hip. There is no one like her, a true original.
Hope you liked the picture as much as I did - I simply couldn’t resist…it’s dangerous for me to take myself too seriously. ;) Now, what are you waiting for, go - read.
WC
Addendum: You know, much as I liked the idea of this meme, I found it limiting at the same time. For me, all the blogs on my blogroll offer something and certainly they offer food for thought. It felt a little wrong to exclude all but five. Know what I mean? I love everyone on my blogroll, even if I don’t get around to visiting all the time - it takes a lot to maintain a blog and do it well. And there isn’t anyone on my blogroll who doesn’t do that. So screw it, I’m nominating all of you.
Of course this will probably mean that they’ll take my thinking award away from me - but oh well - my mantle is full of awards anyway. LOL.
An Undeniable Force
Posted on April 8, 2007 - Filed Under Dear Readers..., Deep thoughts, Heroes, History, Holiday, I'm in awe, Inspirational Words, honor, my opinions, philosophy & politics, reflections, wisdom
Finally, brethren, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever, is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is of good repute, if there is any excellence and if anything worthy of praise, let your mind dwell on these things. [Philippians 4:8].
I have always believed in the lesson of Easter. The ascension of good over evil, light over darkness. To reflect on the idea that there was someone so purely good that he would die for the transgressions of the rest of humanity is staggering. Even if you don’t prescribe to Christainity or believe in any aspect of it, the story of Christ must give one pause.
I know that it is cool and hip to bash Christianity and in fact, organized religion in general these days. That depicting Christ as a criminal, a pervert or even a monster is what passes as art or edgy dialogue - but I reject that as having any validity. To disagree with something does not mean to denigrate it.
The lessons and teachings of Christ are valuable, in fact, most of the moral and belief systems in the world follow the architecture of those lessons. Ponder that for a moment.
Though I was raised as a Catholic (strong Christian attitudes there) I don’t identify myself as a Catholic. The reasons for this are not important to anyone but myself. Nonetheless, I don’t reject Christ as a saviour. Even if he was merely a man, the effect he had and continues to have on the world is worthy of respect and awe. And I can think of few who have had a comparable impact on the world, perhaps no one has.
Even if he was only a symbol of peace on Earth, that symbol brought mankind out of darkness and gave the light of hope. How could this be a bad thing? What could be a better gift to your fellows?
When I was a little girl, I always loved the stories of Jesus and his teachings - they made me feel that there was true goodness in the world. Something the world needed desperately and still does.
So over this weekend, while I am enjoying myself with food and celebration - chocolate bunnies and Easter eggs, I will reflect on how this incredible man changed the world.
Happy Easter everybody.
WC
Chicks in dah Hood
Posted on April 7, 2007 - Filed Under Humor, Joke Time, Just For Fun, WTF?, ab fab costumes, beautiful photos, brain farts, classics, funny bone, laughs, loving it!, really cool shit, really stupid shit, scary chicks, that's class, yoiks
Oh yeah, that’s what I’m talking about!
Apparently, this is what I have to look forward to in my twilight years. Although, who can complain about an awesome biker jacket and doo-rag? Not I, my friends, not I. 
WC
An Answer For Everything…
Posted on April 5, 2007 - Filed Under Feedback, Just For Fun, Life, Opinions, Random Thoughts, Self Esteem, WTF?, What If?, acts of idiocy, adventure, brain farts, double yoiks, imagination, in my head, introspection, meme, my opinions, really stupid shit, reflections, voices in my head
When I was a kid, my mom used to say I always had an answer for everything, which was code for ‘you’re such a smart aleck’ but I enjoyed nonetheless.
Well, this isn’t really a post about that though.
Debi of Ms Crankypants has posed three questions for me to answer -an off-shoot of the whole Alabaster Crippens meme - and I decided to answer them here.
So here goes:
1) What event from your childhood or teen years still has a lasting effect on you to this day?
This is a tough one because it is quite personal. But what the heck… When I was about 12, I was very excited because I had managed to save a good deal of money for Christmas gifts. I really wanted to buy something special for my mother. So, I really budgeted the money for the other gifts on my list so I’d have enough left over to buy her a real gold cross on a chain. She had mentioned many times how she had wanted one and I was thrilled that I was going to be able to give her one. I bought the cross, tiny though it was and on a very delicate chain, it was still 14k gold and I couldn’t wait for Christmas day to arrive.
After weeks of agonizing waiting Christmas day arrived and I gave her the gift. Beside myself with anticipation. When she opened it, she cried and I was elated that she was so touched. But then she said, ‘It’s so small. Is that all you think of me, to give me something so small?’ (or words to that effect). I was crushed of course and disappointed. And I think I tried to explain to her but honestly, it’s a bit of a blur what was said after that point.
At the time, I thought she was being mean. Or maybe that she just didn’t love me very much or less than my brothers and sister. And I vowed I would never buy her anything that would ever enter the area of ’special’ again because I couldn’t bear that kind of reaction from her again.
But in retrospect, I don’t think she was being mean. I think that she had many insecurities and self doubts. And that for some reason that necklace reinforced those insecurities and doubts. That in her mind, it validated her fear that she didn’t matter. And to me, that is even sadder that my mother wouldn’t know how much I was trying to please her and make her happy.
It has always affected my relationship with her and I’ve always felt tenuous with her and worry whenever I have to buy her a gift or send her a card. I try to pretend that it doesn’t matter but it does. She has a birthday coming up and I spent days trying to find something to send her that I thought she would like. I settled on something but I have little hope she’ll like it. I know she’ll say she does but…
Anyway, that’s the answer to that one.
2) What is the purpose of imagination and where does it come from?
I believe the purpose of imagination is to bring about the future. Without imagination, we would not have any of our modern technology, music, art, literature - artists are the dreamers of our society and they through their art dream and bring into reality products of their imaginations.
3) What book would YOU want to have written, and why?
Without question I would have wanted to write Atlas Shrugged. There are several reasons why. I strongly identified with Dagny Taggert, a true individual who did not care what others thought of her and was guided by her own conscience and values, despite incredible influences to act otherwise. She would not compromise her beliefs or ideals. Also, I believe it is one of the most important books ever written because it makes the case that we are each responsible and accountable for our actions or inactions and that no one is owed a living, wherewithall, possessions, or status that is not earned. To me, a definitive text of the 20th century and modern society. And probably most importantly, because it was an elegant and flawlessly written story that continued until it was truly over. Rather than ending on a specified page count.
Well Debi, there you have it. That was interesting… WC
How Does It Dream To You Now?
Posted on April 5, 2007 - Filed Under Dear Readers..., Deep thoughts, Just For Fun, Life, Writers, breathe, double yoiks, future, imagination, in my head, joy of creating, kindred, reflections, writing
When I was a little girl, a very little girl, I wanted to be a ballerina. I could envision the stage, the music and my perfect, graceful body flying through space. But how did a three-year-old know about such things? My family came from farmers, people of the earth, not artists. What weird reconfiguration of fate placed me there? What master plan was in play?
I always felt just a little outside the family. As though I wasn’t really there. I was in a physical sense of course. I was the one with the blonde curls and soulful eyes. I was the wise child who didn’t say much but seemed to know plenty. The one who always wondered if the stork had made a wrong turn because of a snow storm or earthquake. The others fit into each other like puzzle pieces. They made a picture that made sense. I was the piece that no one could find the niche into which I belonged.
The next dream was to be a fireman. Then a teacher. Then a doctor. A bon vivant who strolled the streets of Paris singing out ‘bonjour, bonjour!’ My mind couldn’t settle on just one, I wanted to be them all. Perhaps that is how I came to writing. There are no limits there, you can be whoever and whatever you want to be. Just put the pen to paper and voila you are there, you are it. Simple. Easy. Well, not quite.
My head was in the clouds or off on some distant planet. My heart was wrapped in the colors of my imagination - such vibrant, dimensional colors that I never longed to be back on Earth. Yet, time and again I would be pulled back to perform a mundane task; laundry, cooking, making my bed, homework, going to work. And each time the me inside of me would protest, pout a little and carry on like the martyr I was. ‘It’s not fair,’ I’d mutter to myself. ‘I don’t want to do this.’ At which point the practical me would surface and scold. I had to work hard, I had to carry my weight, fulfill my obligations - life was expecting it of me and I acquiesced. Damn it! Damn it all to hell!
I comforted myself with the dream that one day I would have my dream. That one day I would finish all the chores and work and obligations and then I could really live my dream. Even though my dream was constantly shifting and changing shape and no matter how much I chased it, it could never be caught, I still dreamed of living my dream.
Is it an inherent quality of writers that they are never satisfied? Is it part of the spiritual and mental makeup of the scribe? Or is it that we can so easily assume the viewpoint of anyone and anything? That is a quality that has always annoyed many in my life. I can pick up an identity and be it - like that. I always have wondered if it’s a charm or a curse. I’m not sure I will ever be able to answer that question and maybe I prefer to have it lurking around in my psyche to tease and taunt me like a naughty lover who won’t commit. Meanwhile, half the time I feel like I should be committed.
So here I am, all grown up as they say and I’m still chasing the dream of the living the dream and I have to ask myself, ‘What is it?’ So many answers pop up, like impatient school children flailing arms in the air when they are sure they know the answer to the teacher’s question. But only answer that rings true is, writing. I want to write. I want to spend the rest of my life writing. And if I’m lucky I will die in front of my computer or at a desk with pen and pad in hand, in the middle of thought that was so pure and perfect that I had to get it down before I lost it. I may never amount to anything, be a someone, be sought after by fans or groupies or even get any of my books published BUT I will always write. And that makes me a writer because a writer writes. And so I am living my dream. So, it dreams to me now pretty damn fine.
Tell me your dreams.
WC
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