This bitch has a long holiday weekend to get started on!
Vodka?
Check.
Cran?
Check!
Oh, hell yes...
Time to go get my debauch on...toodles until Sunday!
Friday, June 30, 2006
Ahhh...
This bitch has a long holiday weekend to get started on!
Vodka?
Check.
Cran?
Check!
Oh, hell yes...
Time to go get my debauch on...toodles until Sunday!
Next!
Okay, so a bitch watched the entire Star Jones Reynolds interview on Larry King last night.
It was like watching one of those shows on Discovery Health Channel where they show a brain surgery…and you sort of want to switch the channel, but you just can’t.
Yeah...just like that only no internal organs where removed, dusted off and reattached.
Anyhoo, ABC sent Larry their talking points and position statements…Star Jones Reynolds clearly decided to play it cool, calm and collected…and a bitch was left shaking my head at the television screen.
Quizzicals Specific to this Public Display of Ego-based Celebri-drama…
Was Star told she was getting the boot in November of last year or April of this year? ABC said they told Barbara in 2005 to kick Star to the curb…so why didn’t Babs give her the boot? Just who the hell is driving that bus, anyway? And why would anyone want to go on multiple television shows to discuss the who/what/when and where of their firing?
Uh, uh…not in this lifetime…never.
Why does Star Jones Reynolds sound like she’s out of breath? It’s very disturbing…like she just ran up and down a flight of stairs…or is about to collapse. Is she not well…or is this inability to breathe related to the medical intervention that shall not be named by Star or anyone who wants to remain in Star’s good graces?
Did Babs get pissed off at Star for jumping the gun with her announcement…or did Babs get pissed that Star took a shit on plans to do one of those played out cheesy retrospective we’re gonna miss you shows? Or was the real trigger the fact that People Magazine scooped the Why Star Left expose?
People Magazine?
Oh Star! Please call a bitch because we really need to talk.
If Star Jones Reynolds was driven to inform her viewers of her firing by tabloid speculation where the fuck was the tabloid speculation? A bitch must be out of the loop, because my ass hasn’t heard shit about Ms. Thang since her wedding.
Tabloids were camped out in front of her house fretting over her employment status?
Really?
Lawd have mercy.
Is it me or did celebrity scandals used to be more fun?
Next!
It was like watching one of those shows on Discovery Health Channel where they show a brain surgery…and you sort of want to switch the channel, but you just can’t.
Yeah...just like that only no internal organs where removed, dusted off and reattached.
Anyhoo, ABC sent Larry their talking points and position statements…Star Jones Reynolds clearly decided to play it cool, calm and collected…and a bitch was left shaking my head at the television screen.
Quizzicals Specific to this Public Display of Ego-based Celebri-drama…
Was Star told she was getting the boot in November of last year or April of this year? ABC said they told Barbara in 2005 to kick Star to the curb…so why didn’t Babs give her the boot? Just who the hell is driving that bus, anyway? And why would anyone want to go on multiple television shows to discuss the who/what/when and where of their firing?
Uh, uh…not in this lifetime…never.
Why does Star Jones Reynolds sound like she’s out of breath? It’s very disturbing…like she just ran up and down a flight of stairs…or is about to collapse. Is she not well…or is this inability to breathe related to the medical intervention that shall not be named by Star or anyone who wants to remain in Star’s good graces?
Did Babs get pissed off at Star for jumping the gun with her announcement…or did Babs get pissed that Star took a shit on plans to do one of those played out cheesy retrospective we’re gonna miss you shows? Or was the real trigger the fact that People Magazine scooped the Why Star Left expose?
People Magazine?
Oh Star! Please call a bitch because we really need to talk.
If Star Jones Reynolds was driven to inform her viewers of her firing by tabloid speculation where the fuck was the tabloid speculation? A bitch must be out of the loop, because my ass hasn’t heard shit about Ms. Thang since her wedding.
Tabloids were camped out in front of her house fretting over her employment status?
Really?
Lawd have mercy.
Is it me or did celebrity scandals used to be more fun?
Next!
Thursday, June 29, 2006
Update...Stolen VA laptop found!
They found the laptop containing the sensitive data of some 26.5 millions veterans!Apparently the data has not been accessed.
Whew.
Now, someone please shut the fucking barn door and lock it!
Lawd, have mercy...
Momma said knock you out!
Jumping right in with gloves on...
An episode of Dynasty has broken out on The View this week. Drama is back on the scene as a certain Star
Jones and divalicious Barbara Walters go toe to toe over who said what to whom and how they said it and whether it was a betrayal and who betrayed who and how and why the other is a backstabbing ungrateful little shit!
Holy mother of all things!
My initial reaction was horror….which was quickly replaced by shock and awe.
Okay, so Star Jones lost her motherfucking mind when she got engaged…and negotiated sponsorship of everything wedding related as if her wedding where the Super Bowl and the World Cup all wrapped up in one package. That was some tacky assed shit. Sorry people, but that was the very definition of tacky.
Shit, she should have sold tickets.
Ooops, did she?
Whatever.
Anyhoo, so Star Jones became Star Jones Reynolds…and then she began to shrink, which she stated was the result of exercise and nutrition and which most folks think was the result of a certain bypass of a certain gastric something or other. Go on and be shrunk, Ms. Thang. A bitch ain't mad at you...for that.
Ratings where high for the shows where Star Jones Reynolds plugged her wedding sponsorship. Producers were peeved that Mrs. Reynolds was using The View to polish off her personal sponsorship agreements and allegedly fretted over whether ratings were high as in 'Jerry Springer trainwreck viewage' high or high as in 'isn’t Star great' high.
Whew.
Fast forward to the main event.
The View announces that Rosie O’Donnell will be joining the show next season. Immediately speculation ignites that Star Jones Reynolds must be leaving because Rosie and Star don’t get along…can’t stand each other…are like oil and water…mmmhmmm, think Joan Crawford and Bette Davis.
And then…nothing.
Tick and tock.
Specualtion and no confirmation.
Until this week.
Apparently, Star Jones Reynolds was told her contract wouldn’t be renewed…the announcement was due sometime this week…and she decided to be the mistress of her own destiny and announce that shit on her own.
On live television!
Without telling her co-hosts!
Lawd, have mercy! Did y’all see the look on Barbara Walters’ face?
Gooooooooooooooaaaaaaaal!
Star Jones Reynolds 1
Babs Walters 0
But wait. Hold up! Barbara Walters hasn’t been in the bitness for 375 years because she’s merely charming. Behold the original news-based diva in action, chil'ren!
Babs made her move immediately following the show. Clearly she went to town on the producers, because Star Jones Reynolds was erased from all things The View related in a move remenicent of Stalin post purge.
Her picture…gone.
Her name in the credits…no where to be found.
Her check…in the mail, honey.
Then Babs came out with a surprise left on The View yesterday. Someone took a note from a certain Debbie Reynolds’ How to Spin a Bad Breakup playbook. Much like Debbie Reynolds post Elizabeth Taylor/Eddie Fisher scandal, Babs Walters took a serious tone when announcing that Star was no longer on the show. She neatly severed the cord all the while adding bits of verbal poison to the mix.
Star knew for months that ABC didn’t want her anymore.
We were trying to give her time to find other employment.
We had hoped to be decent about this, but Star chose a different path.
I wish her all the best.
But we simply couldn’t pretend that everything was the same at this table. (Fantabulous line, by the way.)
Goooooooooooooooooaaaaaalll!
Star Jones Reynolds 1
Barbara Walters 1
Oh, but wait...there’s more to come.
Star is booked to be on Larry King tonight, where a bitch anticipates a full confessional to top all confessionals.
Not only is Star going to hold court for a full hour, but she is doing it through the one on one interview technique that Barbara Walters made famous on 20/20!
Oh…oh, oh….that is brilliant…so brilliant that it may be worthy of double diva backstab goal score-like point.
Sharpen your talons, chil’ren.
This is gonna be a gruesome ride…
An episode of Dynasty has broken out on The View this week. Drama is back on the scene as a certain Star
Jones and divalicious Barbara Walters go toe to toe over who said what to whom and how they said it and whether it was a betrayal and who betrayed who and how and why the other is a backstabbing ungrateful little shit!Holy mother of all things!
My initial reaction was horror….which was quickly replaced by shock and awe.
Okay, so Star Jones lost her motherfucking mind when she got engaged…and negotiated sponsorship of everything wedding related as if her wedding where the Super Bowl and the World Cup all wrapped up in one package. That was some tacky assed shit. Sorry people, but that was the very definition of tacky.
Shit, she should have sold tickets.
Ooops, did she?
Whatever.
Anyhoo, so Star Jones became Star Jones Reynolds…and then she began to shrink, which she stated was the result of exercise and nutrition and which most folks think was the result of a certain bypass of a certain gastric something or other. Go on and be shrunk, Ms. Thang. A bitch ain't mad at you...for that.
Ratings where high for the shows where Star Jones Reynolds plugged her wedding sponsorship. Producers were peeved that Mrs. Reynolds was using The View to polish off her personal sponsorship agreements and allegedly fretted over whether ratings were high as in 'Jerry Springer trainwreck viewage' high or high as in 'isn’t Star great' high.
Whew.
Fast forward to the main event.
The View announces that Rosie O’Donnell will be joining the show next season. Immediately speculation ignites that Star Jones Reynolds must be leaving because Rosie and Star don’t get along…can’t stand each other…are like oil and water…mmmhmmm, think Joan Crawford and Bette Davis.
And then…nothing.
Tick and tock.
Specualtion and no confirmation.
Until this week.
Apparently, Star Jones Reynolds was told her contract wouldn’t be renewed…the announcement was due sometime this week…and she decided to be the mistress of her own destiny and announce that shit on her own.
On live television!
Without telling her co-hosts!
Lawd, have mercy! Did y’all see the look on Barbara Walters’ face?
Gooooooooooooooaaaaaaaal!
Star Jones Reynolds 1
Babs Walters 0
But wait. Hold up! Barbara Walters hasn’t been in the bitness for 375 years because she’s merely charming. Behold the original news-based diva in action, chil'ren!
Babs made her move immediately following the show. Clearly she went to town on the producers, because Star Jones Reynolds was erased from all things The View related in a move remenicent of Stalin post purge.
Her picture…gone.
Her name in the credits…no where to be found.
Her check…in the mail, honey.
Then Babs came out with a surprise left on The View yesterday. Someone took a note from a certain Debbie Reynolds’ How to Spin a Bad Breakup playbook. Much like Debbie Reynolds post Elizabeth Taylor/Eddie Fisher scandal, Babs Walters took a serious tone when announcing that Star was no longer on the show. She neatly severed the cord all the while adding bits of verbal poison to the mix.
Star knew for months that ABC didn’t want her anymore.
We were trying to give her time to find other employment.
We had hoped to be decent about this, but Star chose a different path.
I wish her all the best.
But we simply couldn’t pretend that everything was the same at this table. (Fantabulous line, by the way.)
Goooooooooooooooooaaaaaalll!
Star Jones Reynolds 1
Barbara Walters 1
Oh, but wait...there’s more to come.
Star is booked to be on Larry King tonight, where a bitch anticipates a full confessional to top all confessionals.
Not only is Star going to hold court for a full hour, but she is doing it through the one on one interview technique that Barbara Walters made famous on 20/20!
Oh…oh, oh….that is brilliant…so brilliant that it may be worthy of double diva backstab goal score-like point.
Sharpen your talons, chil’ren.
This is gonna be a gruesome ride…
Wednesday, June 28, 2006
Random ponderings...
A bitch has been pondering some random shit this afternoon.
Blogs
A lot of people have no fucking idea what a blog is. Some folks know and
just aren’t interested in them. Gasp! There are people who have no time at all for entertainment blogs…others who could give a damn about celebrity blogs…and still others who only make time for über blogs.
People often e-mail me with gossip and such about bloggers a bitch has never heard of.
“Did you see what whoeverthefuck at www.whoeverthefuck.com said about you, ABB?!”
Uh…no…and who the fuck is whoeverthefuck anyway? Shit, this bitch considers it an honor to have people my ass had no clue even existed loathing my existence (wink)!
It’s a big world out there…
Entertainment
Just because you are sent into frenzy over Coldplay doesn’t mean a bitch knows those motherfuckers by name. Shit. So, you adore them and think they are the shit. Go with Gawd…but a bitch can’t live your life.
Why must people act like my ass just told them their baby is ugly as hell when a bitch honestly admits to not having a clue about some pop band.
Jesus to Gawd, are you this passionate about all the bands in your iPod? That’s got to be exhausting!
This bitch doesn’t expect everyone to enjoy Miles Davis. Yes, you will be judged insane for admitting that to me…but a bitch isn’t going to get personally offended. Miles wasn’t family…a bitch doesn’t even know his middle name.
Get a hold of yourselves. There are entire regions of the world that have never even heard of Oasis…couldn’t pick Paris Hilton out of a line-up…and think that Eva Longoria is a resort in Fiji.
Munchables
Yeah, munchables. Just about every time a bitch mentions
Smarties…and that is often, because this bitch ADORES Smartie-based chocolate delightfulness…someone shoots me an e-mail questioning my sanity.
“Smarties aren’t chocolate, bitch!”
Ah, but they are. American Smarties aren’t chocolate…but the rest of the world has unrestricted access to Nestlé chocolate based Smarties.
Yeah, a bitch thinks that’s a travesty too!
However, America does not have universal chocolate yumminess creation rights. Other countries make their own munchables…for real.
Mind boggling, isn’t it?
Mayhap they can address the vexing problem of international Nestlé Smarties distribution at the G8 Summit?
Blogs
A lot of people have no fucking idea what a blog is. Some folks know and
just aren’t interested in them. Gasp! There are people who have no time at all for entertainment blogs…others who could give a damn about celebrity blogs…and still others who only make time for über blogs. People often e-mail me with gossip and such about bloggers a bitch has never heard of.
“Did you see what whoeverthefuck at www.whoeverthefuck.com said about you, ABB?!”
Uh…no…and who the fuck is whoeverthefuck anyway? Shit, this bitch considers it an honor to have people my ass had no clue even existed loathing my existence (wink)!
It’s a big world out there…
Entertainment
Just because you are sent into frenzy over Coldplay doesn’t mean a bitch knows those motherfuckers by name. Shit. So, you adore them and think they are the shit. Go with Gawd…but a bitch can’t live your life.
Why must people act like my ass just told them their baby is ugly as hell when a bitch honestly admits to not having a clue about some pop band.
Jesus to Gawd, are you this passionate about all the bands in your iPod? That’s got to be exhausting!
This bitch doesn’t expect everyone to enjoy Miles Davis. Yes, you will be judged insane for admitting that to me…but a bitch isn’t going to get personally offended. Miles wasn’t family…a bitch doesn’t even know his middle name.
Get a hold of yourselves. There are entire regions of the world that have never even heard of Oasis…couldn’t pick Paris Hilton out of a line-up…and think that Eva Longoria is a resort in Fiji.
Munchables
Yeah, munchables. Just about every time a bitch mentions
Smarties…and that is often, because this bitch ADORES Smartie-based chocolate delightfulness…someone shoots me an e-mail questioning my sanity. “Smarties aren’t chocolate, bitch!”
Ah, but they are. American Smarties aren’t chocolate…but the rest of the world has unrestricted access to Nestlé chocolate based Smarties.
Yeah, a bitch thinks that’s a travesty too!
However, America does not have universal chocolate yumminess creation rights. Other countries make their own munchables…for real.
Mind boggling, isn’t it?
Mayhap they can address the vexing problem of international Nestlé Smarties distribution at the G8 Summit?
Another day, another Presidential visit...
Happy Wednesday, people!
This bitch is 96 hours into my smoking quit. And a bitch has been purging my system with mango lemon-aid and water…coffee and water…and vodka crans followed by water.
Mercy!
Anyhoo, St. Louis is all a flutter because a certain President Bush is visiting today. Actually, Scooter B. will be visiting Clayton…well, more precisely the Ritz-Carlton.
Welcome back, Scooter B.! A bitch can’t wait to see how much money you rustle up at the Ritz-Carlton today for Senator Talent’s campaign.
Just what are all those donors buying, anyway? A bitch is pretty sure they’re hoping to get more than an overpriced uninspired martini and a plate of wings (wink).
While in town, Scooter B. will present a certain Susan Reese, who is a volunteer and a coordinator at St. Patrick’s Center, with a President’s Volunteer Service Award. Ms. Reese has been volunteering with St. Patrick’s Center for 22 years. Wow! St. Patrick’s Center is one of the areas largest providers of services to the homeless and a great volunteer resource too.
Mayhap Scooter B. could drop in a plug for St. Patrick’s Center at the fundraiser tonight? Why the hell not? Instead of donating to Jim Talent’s re-election campaign folks could be encouraged to donate to assist the area homeless!
Just imagine the message that kind of public mass donating would send about conservative values! Folks are already bringing their checkbooks and St. Patrick’s Center is a faith-based organization (wink).
Wow, the potential exists for tonight’s attendees to live their values in a political setting through the faith-based leadership of the President and the self-sacrificing courage of a sitting Senator willing to sacrifice campaign greed for the common good.
We’ll just have to check back tomorrow and see which way the winds of wealth decided to blow…
Information about St. Patrick’s Center may be found here…and information about how to donate your time or cash may be found here.
Congratulations to Ms. Reese for living her values in the community by helping others and helping St. Louis as well.
This bitch is 96 hours into my smoking quit. And a bitch has been purging my system with mango lemon-aid and water…coffee and water…and vodka crans followed by water.
Mercy!
Anyhoo, St. Louis is all a flutter because a certain President Bush is visiting today. Actually, Scooter B. will be visiting Clayton…well, more precisely the Ritz-Carlton.
Welcome back, Scooter B.! A bitch can’t wait to see how much money you rustle up at the Ritz-Carlton today for Senator Talent’s campaign.
Just what are all those donors buying, anyway? A bitch is pretty sure they’re hoping to get more than an overpriced uninspired martini and a plate of wings (wink).
While in town, Scooter B. will present a certain Susan Reese, who is a volunteer and a coordinator at St. Patrick’s Center, with a President’s Volunteer Service Award. Ms. Reese has been volunteering with St. Patrick’s Center for 22 years. Wow! St. Patrick’s Center is one of the areas largest providers of services to the homeless and a great volunteer resource too.
Mayhap Scooter B. could drop in a plug for St. Patrick’s Center at the fundraiser tonight? Why the hell not? Instead of donating to Jim Talent’s re-election campaign folks could be encouraged to donate to assist the area homeless!
Just imagine the message that kind of public mass donating would send about conservative values! Folks are already bringing their checkbooks and St. Patrick’s Center is a faith-based organization (wink).
Wow, the potential exists for tonight’s attendees to live their values in a political setting through the faith-based leadership of the President and the self-sacrificing courage of a sitting Senator willing to sacrifice campaign greed for the common good.
We’ll just have to check back tomorrow and see which way the winds of wealth decided to blow…
Information about St. Patrick’s Center may be found here…and information about how to donate your time or cash may be found here.
Congratulations to Ms. Reese for living her values in the community by helping others and helping St. Louis as well.
Tuesday, June 27, 2006
Viagra?
Ahhh…where to begin?
Ahem.
A certain Rush Limbaugh of the Oxycontin hording and alleged illegal prescription obtaining Limbaughs ummm…well…got caught on his way back into the United States of America…ummm…well, shit…hording Viagra.
ABB’s first reaction…
Viagra?
TMI!
Lawd have mercy, that's all we need is Limbaugh strutting around with a 4 hour erection!!
ABB’s second reaction…
Viagra?
Ewww…gag…double gag…NASTY! Shit. A bitch could have lived two lives without ever being exposed to that mental image. Ugh.
ABB’s reaction to her second reaction…
Oh fuck! Is he still dating Daryn Kagan? Ugh…damn…that’s even nastier. Jesus, Daryn.
That’s just not right.
Not right.
Nope.
Wrong!
ABB’s third reaction, totally unrelated to her second reaction to this shit…
The prescription is in his doctor's name to protect Limbaugh's privacy.
Excellent spin!
Bullshit, but very nice bullshit. That Roy Black is so worth the money, honey.
ABB’s final reaction…
Viagra? What a selfish fucker! Everyone knows that Cialis gives you enough time to wait until the right time.
Oh my Gawd.
Ewwwww!
Ahem.
A certain Rush Limbaugh of the Oxycontin hording and alleged illegal prescription obtaining Limbaughs ummm…well…got caught on his way back into the United States of America…ummm…well, shit…hording Viagra.
ABB’s first reaction…
Viagra?
TMI!
Lawd have mercy, that's all we need is Limbaugh strutting around with a 4 hour erection!!
ABB’s second reaction…
Viagra?
Ewww…gag…double gag…NASTY! Shit. A bitch could have lived two lives without ever being exposed to that mental image. Ugh.
ABB’s reaction to her second reaction…
Oh fuck! Is he still dating Daryn Kagan? Ugh…damn…that’s even nastier. Jesus, Daryn.
That’s just not right.
Not right.
Nope.
Wrong!
ABB’s third reaction, totally unrelated to her second reaction to this shit…
The prescription is in his doctor's name to protect Limbaugh's privacy.
Excellent spin!
Bullshit, but very nice bullshit. That Roy Black is so worth the money, honey.
ABB’s final reaction…
Viagra? What a selfish fucker! Everyone knows that Cialis gives you enough time to wait until the right time.
Oh my Gawd.
Ewwwww!
Tuesday...
Well, a bitch has another day off. My ass woke up early…which is a damned shame…but at least there isn’t anything a bitch has to do today.
A bitch is beyond excited that Smartie-based yumminess is coming forth from Montreal! Oh, the joy…and the chocolate…and the munch potential.
Shit, a bitch is getting all emotional!
Heaven to hell and back again, withdrawal is no fucking joke.
This bitch has approached the process of quitting smoking with some perspective. A bitch chose to smoke…and a bitch is choosing to quit. There is nothing more annoying than someone who gets all uppity about shit like this. Trust that this bitch has plenty of other debauchereous habits on my list (wink) and they aren't going anywhere anytime soon.
Anyhoo, a bitch was watching CNN this morning. CNN in the morning has turned into a freakfest of awkwardly dismissive interviews followed by wild exclamations over the breaking news of the moment that breaks…and breaks…and breaks until someone wakes up Wolf Blitzer who then announces that the same tired ass sorta-news story has been officially broken and is now 'developing'. To get a basic recap of the sorta-news of the day one has to turn to CNN Headline News.
Gawd, where the fuck is Ted Turner?
So, the CNN Headline News anchor pops up in the screen. A bitch was startled. Shit, this bitch spilled my motherfucking coffee! Mercy, the woman was old-school tanned…the kind of deep bronze that usually requires oil and a serious sun obsession. Her hair was damned near Jean Harlow, so that tan literally jumped out of the television and slapped a bitch!
Mercy.
It took a few minutes, but a bitch eventually overcame her glaring presentation to listen to what she was saying. The Surgeon General announced that second hand smoke is bad for people.
No shit! That is not the kind of shit a bitch needs to hear 72 hours into a quit…assholes. And thanks for all of the blissful smoking footage, CNN. Y’all can go the BLOODY HELL!
Fuck, fuck, fuck, fucking shit and fuck!
Whew.
Sorry…umm, time for more gum…and maybe a lozenge…or two.
***5 minute pause****
Sigh.
Thanks…better now…but CNN can still kiss my black ass.
What the fuck is up with that shit? Why the hell is a woman who has either indulged in dangerous tanning or is perpetuating the image of indulging in dangerous tanning on my television pontificating about healthy lifestyles?
And where the fuck are the dermatologists? Huh? Why aren’t they charging up the major
networks over their practice of visually reinforcing society’s bizarre connection between having a tan and looking healthy?
Okay, so a bitch doesn’t tan…on purpose. This bitch has spent my entire life trying to get my natural brownness to be one unified color for a solid month straight.
Shit.
A bitch just thinks about the sun and my arms get a deeper shade of brown. And don’t get me wrong…a bitch isn’t color struck. My ass just likes my arms and legs to look like they belong on the same body. But even my crazy ass knows that baking in the sun is not the answer.
This past weekend is dawned on a bitch that the tanning season was upon us. Every fourth person at the park was red…nearly red…alarmingly red…or peeling in a reptilian practice that has always grossed this bitch out.
For the record…if the brown appears post third degree burn that isn’t a tan it’s a scar!
Mercy.
It just strikes me as off to have celebrities and news people all pontificating about healthy eating…healthy non-smoking…colon scans and breast cancer screenings…anti-oxidants and obesity…all while sporting the visual proclamation of dangerous sun exposure and discussing diets and pills and all manner of other socially green lighted bad for you shit.
Anyhoo, a bitch recalls one morning when Katie Couric was still on the Today Show. She was going on and on about youth smoking and how she just couldn’t 'get it' why young people think smoking makes them look cool.
Yeah.
It just doesn’t make sense does it?
Whatever.
This bitch is off to the Central West End to sit amongst the masses and breath in some…ummm…pollution while trying to not think about not smoking.
A bitch is beyond excited that Smartie-based yumminess is coming forth from Montreal! Oh, the joy…and the chocolate…and the munch potential.
Shit, a bitch is getting all emotional!
Heaven to hell and back again, withdrawal is no fucking joke.
This bitch has approached the process of quitting smoking with some perspective. A bitch chose to smoke…and a bitch is choosing to quit. There is nothing more annoying than someone who gets all uppity about shit like this. Trust that this bitch has plenty of other debauchereous habits on my list (wink) and they aren't going anywhere anytime soon.
Anyhoo, a bitch was watching CNN this morning. CNN in the morning has turned into a freakfest of awkwardly dismissive interviews followed by wild exclamations over the breaking news of the moment that breaks…and breaks…and breaks until someone wakes up Wolf Blitzer who then announces that the same tired ass sorta-news story has been officially broken and is now 'developing'. To get a basic recap of the sorta-news of the day one has to turn to CNN Headline News.
Gawd, where the fuck is Ted Turner?
So, the CNN Headline News anchor pops up in the screen. A bitch was startled. Shit, this bitch spilled my motherfucking coffee! Mercy, the woman was old-school tanned…the kind of deep bronze that usually requires oil and a serious sun obsession. Her hair was damned near Jean Harlow, so that tan literally jumped out of the television and slapped a bitch!
Mercy.
It took a few minutes, but a bitch eventually overcame her glaring presentation to listen to what she was saying. The Surgeon General announced that second hand smoke is bad for people.
No shit! That is not the kind of shit a bitch needs to hear 72 hours into a quit…assholes. And thanks for all of the blissful smoking footage, CNN. Y’all can go the BLOODY HELL!
Fuck, fuck, fuck, fucking shit and fuck!
Whew.
Sorry…umm, time for more gum…and maybe a lozenge…or two.
***5 minute pause****
Sigh.
Thanks…better now…but CNN can still kiss my black ass.
What the fuck is up with that shit? Why the hell is a woman who has either indulged in dangerous tanning or is perpetuating the image of indulging in dangerous tanning on my television pontificating about healthy lifestyles?
And where the fuck are the dermatologists? Huh? Why aren’t they charging up the major
networks over their practice of visually reinforcing society’s bizarre connection between having a tan and looking healthy?Okay, so a bitch doesn’t tan…on purpose. This bitch has spent my entire life trying to get my natural brownness to be one unified color for a solid month straight.
Shit.
A bitch just thinks about the sun and my arms get a deeper shade of brown. And don’t get me wrong…a bitch isn’t color struck. My ass just likes my arms and legs to look like they belong on the same body. But even my crazy ass knows that baking in the sun is not the answer.
This past weekend is dawned on a bitch that the tanning season was upon us. Every fourth person at the park was red…nearly red…alarmingly red…or peeling in a reptilian practice that has always grossed this bitch out.
For the record…if the brown appears post third degree burn that isn’t a tan it’s a scar!
Mercy.
It just strikes me as off to have celebrities and news people all pontificating about healthy eating…healthy non-smoking…colon scans and breast cancer screenings…anti-oxidants and obesity…all while sporting the visual proclamation of dangerous sun exposure and discussing diets and pills and all manner of other socially green lighted bad for you shit.
Anyhoo, a bitch recalls one morning when Katie Couric was still on the Today Show. She was going on and on about youth smoking and how she just couldn’t 'get it' why young people think smoking makes them look cool.
Yeah.
It just doesn’t make sense does it?
Whatever.
This bitch is off to the Central West End to sit amongst the masses and breath in some…ummm…pollution while trying to not think about not smoking.
Monday, June 26, 2006
Affirmed...
This bitch has the day off from work!
The sun is shining…my afro is looking too fine for words…and…drum roll please…
A bitch quit smoking.
Mmmmhmmm.
***happy dance in kitchen area where computer lives***
A bitch took my final drag off a cig Saturday at 5 o’clock in the morning. The pack was finished and, even though a bitch had stated that my new smoking free existence would begin Monday June 26th, the moment was there and needed to be seized.
With the assistance of some gum-esque shit…which a bitch isn’t fond off and only hits in moments of extreme weakness…this bitch is doing okay.
Today’s bitchfirmation (said while admiring my afro in the mirror)…
The challenge has yet to be created that this black woman can’t meet and overcome. Know that simple truth as you know your own name and go on with your bad self!
Thank you to everyone for the encouragement and advice! Y’all are the best.
48 hours in and currently detoxifying with Mango/Lemon beverage-based yumminess and iced green tea…
The sun is shining…my afro is looking too fine for words…and…drum roll please…
A bitch quit smoking.
Mmmmhmmm.
***happy dance in kitchen area where computer lives***
A bitch took my final drag off a cig Saturday at 5 o’clock in the morning. The pack was finished and, even though a bitch had stated that my new smoking free existence would begin Monday June 26th, the moment was there and needed to be seized.
With the assistance of some gum-esque shit…which a bitch isn’t fond off and only hits in moments of extreme weakness…this bitch is doing okay.
Today’s bitchfirmation (said while admiring my afro in the mirror)…
The challenge has yet to be created that this black woman can’t meet and overcome. Know that simple truth as you know your own name and go on with your bad self!
Thank you to everyone for the encouragement and advice! Y’all are the best.
48 hours in and currently detoxifying with Mango/Lemon beverage-based yumminess and iced green tea…
Friday, June 23, 2006
Busy as hell...
A bitch is busy as hell!
Bitchitude shall return Monday.
Have a fantabulous weekend...
Thursday, June 22, 2006
Tossing and turning...
This bitch had a horrible night’s sleep. Tossing and turning and never really going under…it was torture!
Shit.
Jumping right in...
The House of Representatives has decided to delay renewal of the Voting Rights Act, which is set to expire in 2007.
Southern representatives expressed concern that the Voting Rights Act singles out 9 specific southern states for special oversight because of their history of denying blacks the vote through unconstitutional practices. The states are Alabama, Alaska, Arizona, Georgia, Louisiana, Mississippi, South Carolina, Texas and Virginia…the data used to justify additional oversight was compiled from 1964 voter turnout records.
Now, a bitch is suspicious by nature and pretty sure that these representatives are anti-Voting Rights Act for reasons other than equality in oversight and fair play. However, an examination of the 2000 and 2004 elections does show that other states should be added to that list. Missouri…ummm, Ohio…oh, and Florida for sure.
Republican Representative Westmoreland said…"The pre-clearance portions of the Voting Rights Act should apply to all states, or no states," and went on to add "Singling out certain states for special scrutiny no longer makes sense."
Well, it is true that almost every state in the union is guilty of some manner of vote-denying bullshit...but y'all still need some monitoring. If you're tired of being monitored you may want to consider GETTING IT FUCKING RIGHT!
Ass.
This bitch urges my fellow concerned citizens to contact their representatives and let them know that the Voting Rights Act must be renewed...we clearly still have major problems and they might want to get down to bitness on that shit.
Sigh.
It would be nice if Congress could accomplish something this year. They have failed to address immigration reform or social security reform, but have successfully engaged in the gluttonous spending of borrowed cash on bullshit like a recent college graduate with a new MasterCard.
Well shit, a bitch stands corrected…that is something, isn’t it?
Speaking of things Congress failed to handle, this bitch was not at all surprised to see this shit in the news yesterday. As predicted, prescription drug prices have gone up under the new Medicare prescription drug plan. Failure to include the ability to negotiate drug prices with drugmakers has resulted in a 3.7% increase in just a few months of operation.
And don’t let the bullshit artists fool you on this shit. Someone is eating biscuits and gravy here but it sure as shit isn’t the hungry citizen who is footing the bill
on this shit.
Flat co-pays do not equal victimless crime when prescription drug costs go up due to a curiously beneficial pro-pharmaceutical pricing system, chil'ren.
And you know what they say…if you’re looking around the table unable to figure out who the fool is then the fool is probably you.
Shit.
Jumping right in...
The House of Representatives has decided to delay renewal of the Voting Rights Act, which is set to expire in 2007.
Southern representatives expressed concern that the Voting Rights Act singles out 9 specific southern states for special oversight because of their history of denying blacks the vote through unconstitutional practices. The states are Alabama, Alaska, Arizona, Georgia, Louisiana, Mississippi, South Carolina, Texas and Virginia…the data used to justify additional oversight was compiled from 1964 voter turnout records.
Now, a bitch is suspicious by nature and pretty sure that these representatives are anti-Voting Rights Act for reasons other than equality in oversight and fair play. However, an examination of the 2000 and 2004 elections does show that other states should be added to that list. Missouri…ummm, Ohio…oh, and Florida for sure.
Republican Representative Westmoreland said…"The pre-clearance portions of the Voting Rights Act should apply to all states, or no states," and went on to add "Singling out certain states for special scrutiny no longer makes sense."
Well, it is true that almost every state in the union is guilty of some manner of vote-denying bullshit...but y'all still need some monitoring. If you're tired of being monitored you may want to consider GETTING IT FUCKING RIGHT!
Ass.
This bitch urges my fellow concerned citizens to contact their representatives and let them know that the Voting Rights Act must be renewed...we clearly still have major problems and they might want to get down to bitness on that shit.
Sigh.
It would be nice if Congress could accomplish something this year. They have failed to address immigration reform or social security reform, but have successfully engaged in the gluttonous spending of borrowed cash on bullshit like a recent college graduate with a new MasterCard.
Well shit, a bitch stands corrected…that is something, isn’t it?
Speaking of things Congress failed to handle, this bitch was not at all surprised to see this shit in the news yesterday. As predicted, prescription drug prices have gone up under the new Medicare prescription drug plan. Failure to include the ability to negotiate drug prices with drugmakers has resulted in a 3.7% increase in just a few months of operation.
And don’t let the bullshit artists fool you on this shit. Someone is eating biscuits and gravy here but it sure as shit isn’t the hungry citizen who is footing the bill
on this shit.Flat co-pays do not equal victimless crime when prescription drug costs go up due to a curiously beneficial pro-pharmaceutical pricing system, chil'ren.
And you know what they say…if you’re looking around the table unable to figure out who the fool is then the fool is probably you.
Wednesday, June 21, 2006
Some shit...
Happy Pride Week, chil’ren!
The big to-do is, as always, at Tower Grove Park this weekend. Current weather reports indicate a blessed cool down just in time for the festivities.
This bitch is beyond excited about the parade, which will feature a certain Morgan Fairchild as Grand Marshal.
Morgan Fairchild!
Shit, a bitch is going to be nostalgic for Falcon Crest...
Briefly rewinding…
Last night this bitch and C-Money watched Frontline on PBS. Fantastically good programming! The show was all about Dick Cheney's seizure of power in the lead up to the Iraq War and a whole bunch of other things too. Let me tell you, watching this show was like watching a soap opera!
If you get the opportunity you should check it out. It has everything…shadow governments, unprecedented Vice Presidential power, secret intelligence operations within various government agencies, good old boys networks, backstabbing, using to power of government to punish political enemies, manipulating data to justify military action…oh, and indictments and resignations and bitter looking photos!
The most amazing this about what went down is how most Americans are still living in a parallel universe where truth is a lie and the lie is the truth…power hungry politicians are patriots and power questioning patriots are cut & run cowards.
Fascinating in a Twilight Zone kind of way.
And then rewinding a wee bit more…
A certain Gatsby’s Ghost and this bitch dined at Five last week for lunch. Five is the newest addition to the Manchester Ave. Grove area. This bitch inhaled a fantabulous grilled chicken sandwich with chips. Not just chips…oh, no these were 'for real' chips, freshly sliced from a potato and fried.
The atmosphere is bistro chic …the staff is beyond polite…the prices are reasonable…but the chips were the shit!
Yum.
The ‘hood just keeps getting more and more cool new spots.
Mayhap a bitch should open up that coffee bar/cupcake & tatter tot diner my ass has always dreamed about…
Tuesday, June 20, 2006
Beagles, oatmeal eating bears and a very profitable night for Scooter B. and his minions...
Thank you to all y'all who sent a bitch the beagle story! Great stuff. Betsey the sorta-beagle 
will be thrilled at the positive beagle-based coverage. Usually beagle stories involve a lost beagle found 400+ miles away 7 years later.
Beagles like to roam (wink).
Anyhoo, this bitch was cruising the internets and stumbled upon this story. Since this bitch has always wanted to visit Vancouver this story gave me pause. Bears…oatmeal eating bears…all up in some woman's house.
The most amusing part of this story is that the home owners just let the oatmeal eating bear finish up. Mmmhmm, they just let that bear inhale the rest of his or her oatmeal and then leave!
Mercy.
Well shit, at least it ended well for both bear and human.
Note to bitch – order bear repellent before venturing into West Vancouver.
Moving forward…
A certain Scooter B. did a little fundraising Monday. Not for a charity…not for refugee relief on the eve of World Refugee Day…not for the hungry that dwell in America’s urban and rural communities…not for the millions without healthcare, the elderly forced to choose between food or meds or anyone in actual need.
Nope, Scooter B. just rustled up $27 million dollars in one night for the Republican Party.
Catch that knee before it jerks! A bitch is well aware that the river of rancid fundraising-based shit flows heavy on the DNC side of the shore.
However, the responsibility that comes with a majority and the hypocrisy of skirting that responsibility while the nation incurs debt, families sacrifice for war and we all shudder under increased military tensions…well, all that increases the depth over on the right bank of that shit river, darlings.
A bitch wishes this presidential ability to rustle up cash could be beneficial to the masses. Yeah, a bitch can just see it…Scooter B., the fundraising genius, in a heroic effort to make up to the American people his damned near criminal squandering of our surplus on meaningless
pork and attempts to regulate all things sexual, has decided to dedicate the final year of his Presidency to rustling up cash!
Nope, not gonna happen.
It’s good to know, with the nation at war and soldiers being taken captive and brutally killed…with other soldiers being indicted for murder and alleged war crimes…with North Korea acting a fool and Iran playing understudy…and with Social Security and Immigration reform still unaddressed, that Scooter B. is working hard for the people he really values.
Must be nice to be the beneficiary of the President’s labor!
Mmhmmm.
With a donor database capable of generating that kind of cash in one night, a bitch is certain there won’t be any pesky identity theft scandals on Ken Mehlman’s watch.
Yeah, must be real nice.
My father always told me money talks...
will be thrilled at the positive beagle-based coverage. Usually beagle stories involve a lost beagle found 400+ miles away 7 years later.Beagles like to roam (wink).
Anyhoo, this bitch was cruising the internets and stumbled upon this story. Since this bitch has always wanted to visit Vancouver this story gave me pause. Bears…oatmeal eating bears…all up in some woman's house.
The most amusing part of this story is that the home owners just let the oatmeal eating bear finish up. Mmmhmm, they just let that bear inhale the rest of his or her oatmeal and then leave!
Mercy.
Well shit, at least it ended well for both bear and human.
Note to bitch – order bear repellent before venturing into West Vancouver.
Moving forward…
A certain Scooter B. did a little fundraising Monday. Not for a charity…not for refugee relief on the eve of World Refugee Day…not for the hungry that dwell in America’s urban and rural communities…not for the millions without healthcare, the elderly forced to choose between food or meds or anyone in actual need.
Nope, Scooter B. just rustled up $27 million dollars in one night for the Republican Party.
Catch that knee before it jerks! A bitch is well aware that the river of rancid fundraising-based shit flows heavy on the DNC side of the shore.
However, the responsibility that comes with a majority and the hypocrisy of skirting that responsibility while the nation incurs debt, families sacrifice for war and we all shudder under increased military tensions…well, all that increases the depth over on the right bank of that shit river, darlings.
A bitch wishes this presidential ability to rustle up cash could be beneficial to the masses. Yeah, a bitch can just see it…Scooter B., the fundraising genius, in a heroic effort to make up to the American people his damned near criminal squandering of our surplus on meaningless
pork and attempts to regulate all things sexual, has decided to dedicate the final year of his Presidency to rustling up cash!Nope, not gonna happen.
It’s good to know, with the nation at war and soldiers being taken captive and brutally killed…with other soldiers being indicted for murder and alleged war crimes…with North Korea acting a fool and Iran playing understudy…and with Social Security and Immigration reform still unaddressed, that Scooter B. is working hard for the people he really values.
Must be nice to be the beneficiary of the President’s labor!
Mmhmmm.
With a donor database capable of generating that kind of cash in one night, a bitch is certain there won’t be any pesky identity theft scandals on Ken Mehlman’s watch.
Yeah, must be real nice.
My father always told me money talks...
Congrats to the 'Canes...
Congratulations to the Carolina Hurricanes on their thrilling Stanley Cup win!
Sadly, this was not Edmonton’s year…but they did give it a hell of a run.
A bitch watched the entire game…while sipping vodka and grape cran cocktails.
Fantabulous...and the hockey wasn't bad either (wink).
Monday, June 19, 2006
Back to the future...
This bitch is all excited about the deciding 7th game of the Stanley Cup tonight.
What?
A bitch may not have closely followed the series, but who doesn’t love a deciding 7th game of anything? Add to that the fact that Edmonton looked elimination in the eye and declared that defeat could kiss their hockey playing asses by coming back to win not one but two 'must win' games and…oh my!
Excitement, thy name is Stanley Cup hockey!
Moving forward with thoughts of giant cup-like trophies dancing through my head…
Back to the future...
It seems that Scooter B. is going to be saying a lot of a certain word again.
That’s right, all things nuclear weapon related are back on the scene.
North Korea is taunting the world with the threat of a possible long range missile test. They’ve fueled the sucker and the launch window is nigh.
Iran continues to flex the bulging muscles of oil and nuclear aspirations.
Scooter B and his minions are cautioning both nations to chill…please chill…you’ve just gotta chill…what can we do to make chilling out more attractive…have some ice and cool off, please…mayhap a cherry lime-aid...whatever, just make like New Edition and Cool it Now!
Mercy.
Folks are talking recession, healthcare is a joke, a drug frenzy is ravaging communities and destroying families, education is in the toilet while the education secretary is seeking wisdom anywhere but here, tax cuts are benefiting the rich while the ranks of the working poor grow and we are in the midst of a cold and hot war all at once.
And our government is debating the ridiculous while avoiding the task of handling the people’s bitness.
Well, shit…this isn’t new. This is just the 1980’s all over again…overly Botoxed and under fluffed!
And it begs a wee makeover of that famous question from the 1980's…are you better off today than you were 6 years ago?
This bitch is taking bets that the next Hollywood re-make is Red Dawn.
What?
A bitch may not have closely followed the series, but who doesn’t love a deciding 7th game of anything? Add to that the fact that Edmonton looked elimination in the eye and declared that defeat could kiss their hockey playing asses by coming back to win not one but two 'must win' games and…oh my!
Excitement, thy name is Stanley Cup hockey!
Moving forward with thoughts of giant cup-like trophies dancing through my head…
Back to the future...
It seems that Scooter B. is going to be saying a lot of a certain word again.
That’s right, all things nuclear weapon related are back on the scene.
North Korea is taunting the world with the threat of a possible long range missile test. They’ve fueled the sucker and the launch window is nigh.
Iran continues to flex the bulging muscles of oil and nuclear aspirations.
Scooter B and his minions are cautioning both nations to chill…please chill…you’ve just gotta chill…what can we do to make chilling out more attractive…have some ice and cool off, please…mayhap a cherry lime-aid...whatever, just make like New Edition and Cool it Now!
Mercy.
Folks are talking recession, healthcare is a joke, a drug frenzy is ravaging communities and destroying families, education is in the toilet while the education secretary is seeking wisdom anywhere but here, tax cuts are benefiting the rich while the ranks of the working poor grow and we are in the midst of a cold and hot war all at once.
And our government is debating the ridiculous while avoiding the task of handling the people’s bitness.
Well, shit…this isn’t new. This is just the 1980’s all over again…overly Botoxed and under fluffed!
And it begs a wee makeover of that famous question from the 1980's…are you better off today than you were 6 years ago?
This bitch is taking bets that the next Hollywood re-make is Red Dawn.
Friday, June 16, 2006
200,000 visits to the land of bitchitude...
Well shit!
AngryBlackBitch has officially reached 200,000 visits.
Thank you to all 25 of you who visit this bitch multiple times a day (wink)!
Seriously though, being visited 200,000 times in 1 year and 4 months is kind of cool…not world peace cool, but interesting cool.
When Brother Rob Thurman gave this bitch a blog for my birthday back in the day no one could have told me more than 10 people would want to read my shit. To have 20 freakishly loyal multi-hit creating readers is a blast (wink).
Unique hits be damned…
AngryBlackBitch has officially reached 200,000 visits.
Thank you to all 25 of you who visit this bitch multiple times a day (wink)!
Seriously though, being visited 200,000 times in 1 year and 4 months is kind of cool…not world peace cool, but interesting cool.
When Brother Rob Thurman gave this bitch a blog for my birthday back in the day no one could have told me more than 10 people would want to read my shit. To have 20 freakishly loyal multi-hit creating readers is a blast (wink).
Unique hits be damned…
By Request, September...
Warning - this post may inspire you to get your groove on...or it may make a certain song play over and over again in your head (wink).
This bitch is ready for the weekend, baby!
C-Money has tossed out a request.
Do you remember…back in the day….September?
As most of you know, C-Money is my sister. Our older brother, Bill, is autistic and we are his co-guardians. For the uninitiated, autism is a spectrum disease that impacts social development and all manner of shit. Bill is on the profound end of the spectrum.
Growing up with an autistic brother was our normal. Oh, you can fantasize all you want about how calm and serene other people’s home life must have been, but your reality is your normal and the rest is speculation. In our home, twirling fits of frustration, fecally inspired abstract wall murals, a two year front lawn middle of the day nudity fixation and music inspired outbursts of fantastical joy were totally normal (wink).
And y’all wonder why a bitch ain’t right?
Anyhoo, one of the quirks of Bill’s autism is that he latches onto things obsessively.
It is all a blur now…when it began. Was it in the car? Or was it over a long weekend with the radio blaring classic R & B? Although a bitch can not pinpoint the exact moment in time, somehow and somewhere my brother Bill fell in love with Earth, Wind and Fire’s September.
Mmmhmmm.
In loooooooove.
Specifically, in love with the chorus…which he sang repeatedly…over and over and over again…anywhere and everywhere…in full voice, hitting each note with freakish precision…for years.
Ba de ya - say do you remember
Ba de ya - dancing in September
Ba de ya - never was a cloudy day
Now, Bill is aphasic and he never sang the words…just the notes. Over and over again, anywhere and everywhere for years.
Sometimes there would be a lull…a pause in this musical obsession…and we would walk softly in hopes of not inspiring September’s return. But Magic 104.9 FM fucked us year after year with their play list…September may not have always been in high rotation, but they played it with just enough frequency to trigger Bill on a regular basis.
Shit.
And so it went, for years. C-Money and this bitch’s reaction to September traces the evolution of our relationship with Bill. Embarrassment and the shame of being embarrassed, annoyance and the strange comfort to being totally annoyed with our older brother just like our friends...disgust at Bill’s ability to sing September at the top of his lungs in McDonald’s just as Lisa So & So from the 'it clique' waltzed in.
Ugh!
Then Bill moved out and into residential treatment and we went to college and life got lived.
Sigh.
Eventually we returned to Missouri and took on the task of co-guardianship. And, sure ‘nough, they still play September on the radio on a weekly basis here!
Bill has moved on musically. Currently, he has a fondness for all things Stevie Wonder and early Hip Hop.
Honestly, a bitch hasn’t heard him indulge in a September festival of noise in a long time.
But Earth, Wind & Fire performed on The Today Show this morning…the first song was September...and C-Money and this bitch got our groove on.
Things have come full circle and when we hear September we've just got to smile.
It makes me think of Bill and his ability to express absolute joy...every single time.
Yeah, we remember.
My thoughts are with you
Holding hands with your heart to see you
Only blue talk and love,
Remember how we knew love was here to stay
Now December found the love that we shared in September.
Only blue talk and love,
Remember the true love we share today
Ba de ya - say do you remember
Ba de ya - dancing in September
Ba de ya - never was a cloudy day
Ba de ya - say do you remember
Ba de ya - dancing in September
Ba de ya - golden dreams were shiny days!
This bitch is ready for the weekend, baby!
C-Money has tossed out a request.
Do you remember…back in the day….September?
As most of you know, C-Money is my sister. Our older brother, Bill, is autistic and we are his co-guardians. For the uninitiated, autism is a spectrum disease that impacts social development and all manner of shit. Bill is on the profound end of the spectrum.
Growing up with an autistic brother was our normal. Oh, you can fantasize all you want about how calm and serene other people’s home life must have been, but your reality is your normal and the rest is speculation. In our home, twirling fits of frustration, fecally inspired abstract wall murals, a two year front lawn middle of the day nudity fixation and music inspired outbursts of fantastical joy were totally normal (wink).
And y’all wonder why a bitch ain’t right?
Anyhoo, one of the quirks of Bill’s autism is that he latches onto things obsessively.
It is all a blur now…when it began. Was it in the car? Or was it over a long weekend with the radio blaring classic R & B? Although a bitch can not pinpoint the exact moment in time, somehow and somewhere my brother Bill fell in love with Earth, Wind and Fire’s September.
Mmmhmmm.
In loooooooove.
Specifically, in love with the chorus…which he sang repeatedly…over and over and over again…anywhere and everywhere…in full voice, hitting each note with freakish precision…for years.
Ba de ya - say do you remember
Ba de ya - dancing in September
Ba de ya - never was a cloudy day
Now, Bill is aphasic and he never sang the words…just the notes. Over and over again, anywhere and everywhere for years.
Sometimes there would be a lull…a pause in this musical obsession…and we would walk softly in hopes of not inspiring September’s return. But Magic 104.9 FM fucked us year after year with their play list…September may not have always been in high rotation, but they played it with just enough frequency to trigger Bill on a regular basis.
Shit.
And so it went, for years. C-Money and this bitch’s reaction to September traces the evolution of our relationship with Bill. Embarrassment and the shame of being embarrassed, annoyance and the strange comfort to being totally annoyed with our older brother just like our friends...disgust at Bill’s ability to sing September at the top of his lungs in McDonald’s just as Lisa So & So from the 'it clique' waltzed in.
Ugh!
Then Bill moved out and into residential treatment and we went to college and life got lived.
Sigh.
Eventually we returned to Missouri and took on the task of co-guardianship. And, sure ‘nough, they still play September on the radio on a weekly basis here!
Bill has moved on musically. Currently, he has a fondness for all things Stevie Wonder and early Hip Hop.
Honestly, a bitch hasn’t heard him indulge in a September festival of noise in a long time.
But Earth, Wind & Fire performed on The Today Show this morning…the first song was September...and C-Money and this bitch got our groove on.
Things have come full circle and when we hear September we've just got to smile.
It makes me think of Bill and his ability to express absolute joy...every single time.
Yeah, we remember.
My thoughts are with you
Holding hands with your heart to see you
Only blue talk and love,
Remember how we knew love was here to stay
Now December found the love that we shared in September.
Only blue talk and love,
Remember the true love we share today
Ba de ya - say do you remember
Ba de ya - dancing in September
Ba de ya - never was a cloudy day
Ba de ya - say do you remember
Ba de ya - dancing in September
Ba de ya - golden dreams were shiny days!
Thursday, June 15, 2006
Impressions From a Marine's Funeral
This bitch read a comment to an earlier post and was unable to find the words to express my feelings. A certain Jill C. McCoy of Chicago, Illinois had commented that Marine Cpl. Ryan Cummings had been killed in Iraq.
In all the debate over the who, what, when and where of war we often overlook the individuals behind the numbers.
Jill is not a blogger and asked that this bitch post a piece she wrote about her impressions of Marine Cpl. Cummings’ funeral. This piece touched me deeply…as the granddaughter, daughter, niece and cousin of men and women who served in peacetime and in war…and as a human being.
Anti-war does not mean anti-soldier…not to me.
May you be blessed, Marine Cpl. Ryan Cummings, for we are all worthy.
One day we will study war no more…
Impressions From a Marine’s Funeral
Jill C. McCoy
rileysdtr@yahoo.com
THE BACK STORY:
My Beloved’s “best friend since third grade” got the news last week – her nephew, Marine Cpl. Ryan Cummings, had been killed in Iraq. He had been on patrol when the platoon’s vehicle was hit, likely by an IED; Ryan died of massive head trauma when the vehicle rolled.
His body was flown to Delaware and prepared for an open casket service. The primary visitation ran Monday, June 12, from 2 p.m. to 9 p.m.; with the burial service scheduled to begin at 10 a.m. Tuesday. Part of the burial service would be the transport from the funeral home to Abraham Lincoln National Cemetery in Joliet, Illinois, about 50 miles each way.
THE LOCATION:
Ahlgrim Funeral Home in Schaumberg, Illinois has been in operation since about 1906, and has become just one more, slightly incongruous storefront in a vast sea of strip malls at the far edge of what for many years was the largest indoor Mall in the country. As rush-hour traffic in Chicago ranges from frustrating to dismal, it took about an hour to go from work (in the Northern suburbs) to the funeral home (in the Western suburbs).
I was worried as I crept along (directions in hand, at 5:30 in the heart of rush hour) that I would miss the Ahlgrim sign in the midst of Furniture Stores, Babies “R” Us, and acres of Car Dealerships that is that part of the world.
As it turned out, I shouldn’t have worried. Even though Schaumberg’s heart is made of concrete and White Hen Pantries, it still beats. And it breaks for a son come home this way.
THE SCENE:
The leather-clad, tattooed, heavily-mustached Mountain Man poured onto the Harley next to me at the red light had two huge American Flags cross-mounted to the back of his hard-tail, so they would fly in the breeze as he rode, and hung well above the pavement as he sat waiting for the light to change. The Patriot Riders were out in force. A row of gleaming motorcycles were parked across the 8-lane roadway from the funeral home, and a stream of bikers carrying American an Marine Corps flags crossed traffic respectfully stopped -in mid-rush hour, mind you - by local police.
Three officers in safety vests controlled traffic throughout the seven hours of the Visitation from their squad car parked on the median, and in this most impatient of commuter cities (Chicago has among the safest but rudest drivers in the country) nobody honked a horn.
Several hundred people turned out for Ryan’s viewing. Ahlgrim has a large parking lot, but many of the younger folks parked across the street near the Bikers, to make sure their elders would not have to cross such a stretch of road. I parked a long ways in the back, then walked past the honor guard of Patriot Riders, Ryan’s friends from high-school nervously smoking in their black like Goths outside a sold-out concert, elderly women with large beaded American flag pins affixed to their lapels, and heartbreakingly young soldiers – Marines, Sailors, and Army – grouped quietly and uncomfortably outside.
Inside were more family, more friends, more soldiers, including a pair of Marines rigidly “at ease” on either side of Ryan’s casket. Every 15 minutes another pair of young Marines would march forward in step from either side of the chair rows, ceremonially salute and relieve the Casket Guard, and take their place. This occurs in rotation from when the casket arrived at the Funeral Home the weekend past until they would close the casket at 10 a.m. Tuesday and carry Ryan into the hearse. Marines take care of their own.
Around the room were large poster boards of photos and remembrances. A side alcove held a screen, projector, and repeating slide show of Ryan from baby photos onward, set to music. To each side of the room and around the casket were arrayed large displays heavy with flowers, red-white-and-blue ribbons, and other mementos of Ryan’s life and service. Two older Marines, sergeants by their ribbons, stood at the back of the room. I know each family is assigned a specially trained Marine who supports the family in any way possible through the grieving time, so I assume one of the sergeants was assigned to the Cummings and the other oversaw the Casket rotation. Older men and a few women, some in uniform from service past and others with VFW caps, moved through the room as part of the mourners.
Offering my respects to Ryan was a reminder of what 22 years old looks like in a casket. This Marine, on his third tour of duty, who chose to be Infantry, built medical facilities in Africa, offered relief after the Tsunami, served and then volunteered to return to Iraq, was just a young, small, blond boy lying there quietly.
Hard as that was, there was harder. Ryan’s buddies came from all corners of the country. Young Marines drove in from Oregon, from Arizona, among others, to pay their respects. Those of his platoon that could be there gathered at one point at Ryan’s casket, arms around each other to support themselves in their grief and their injuries, with their canes, their crutches, and their courage, to weep. Then they left. Another Marine, an officer weather-beaten and sunburned, in his desert fatigues right down to the boots (just off a plane? O’Hare is only 20 minutes away) came up the drive, clutching his wife’s hand tightly. He stayed a short time, then left, walking away quickly.
Hardest of all were those visitors in civilian dress, lapel buttons reading “Marine Mom” or “Marine Dad” with fixed expressions of sorrow and their own personal thousand-mile stares. They offered condolences with guilt oozing from them in waves, carefully avoiding the obvious relief; a Marine Honor Guard was not standing over their child in that casket. Of all the mourners, all the inadequate expressions of sorrow (are there ever adequate ones?) from family and friends, the Marine Parents’ was the deepest. They were comforting their own comrades in arms, just as Ryan’s buddies had done. They knew the fear, and the grief. The Book of Remembrance was filled with notes from Marine Parents, and Former Military Parents, and – worst of all – Military Former Parents. “In sorrow for your time and in remembrance of my son SFC Brent Adams, KIA 12/1/05 Ramadi.” “Our sincerest gratitude for their bravery, the family of Cpl. Billy Taylor KIA outside Fallujah 11/30/05.”
Many writers both online ended their written wishes with the Marine motto: “Semper Fi,” short for “Semper Fidelis,” or “Always Faithful.” I’ve been enjoying the freedoms of this country for 41 years; in this time Marines have fought and died in a half-dozen wars and dozens of “participatory exercises.” The Marines are, as ever, “Always Faithful” to the U.S. and its citizens. Right now Ryan is being carried as part of a full Military procession, families in mini-vans, and a large, flag-waving Motorcycle Gang south on Illinois 53 to his internment. I don’t know if the slow procession will get honked at, cut apart by traffic patterns, buzzed by idiots in hot rods, or picketed at graveside by that obscene preacher from Topeka. I hope Ryan will be carried into his resting place with the dignity and honor he and his family deserve. I am grateful to the Bikers. I am grateful to the Marines.
I am grateful to Ryan and his family.
I am grateful.
Jill C. McCoy
In all the debate over the who, what, when and where of war we often overlook the individuals behind the numbers.
Jill is not a blogger and asked that this bitch post a piece she wrote about her impressions of Marine Cpl. Cummings’ funeral. This piece touched me deeply…as the granddaughter, daughter, niece and cousin of men and women who served in peacetime and in war…and as a human being.
Anti-war does not mean anti-soldier…not to me.
May you be blessed, Marine Cpl. Ryan Cummings, for we are all worthy.
One day we will study war no more…
Impressions From a Marine’s Funeral
Jill C. McCoy
rileysdtr@yahoo.com
THE BACK STORY:
My Beloved’s “best friend since third grade” got the news last week – her nephew, Marine Cpl. Ryan Cummings, had been killed in Iraq. He had been on patrol when the platoon’s vehicle was hit, likely by an IED; Ryan died of massive head trauma when the vehicle rolled.
His body was flown to Delaware and prepared for an open casket service. The primary visitation ran Monday, June 12, from 2 p.m. to 9 p.m.; with the burial service scheduled to begin at 10 a.m. Tuesday. Part of the burial service would be the transport from the funeral home to Abraham Lincoln National Cemetery in Joliet, Illinois, about 50 miles each way.
THE LOCATION:
Ahlgrim Funeral Home in Schaumberg, Illinois has been in operation since about 1906, and has become just one more, slightly incongruous storefront in a vast sea of strip malls at the far edge of what for many years was the largest indoor Mall in the country. As rush-hour traffic in Chicago ranges from frustrating to dismal, it took about an hour to go from work (in the Northern suburbs) to the funeral home (in the Western suburbs).
I was worried as I crept along (directions in hand, at 5:30 in the heart of rush hour) that I would miss the Ahlgrim sign in the midst of Furniture Stores, Babies “R” Us, and acres of Car Dealerships that is that part of the world.
As it turned out, I shouldn’t have worried. Even though Schaumberg’s heart is made of concrete and White Hen Pantries, it still beats. And it breaks for a son come home this way.
THE SCENE:
The leather-clad, tattooed, heavily-mustached Mountain Man poured onto the Harley next to me at the red light had two huge American Flags cross-mounted to the back of his hard-tail, so they would fly in the breeze as he rode, and hung well above the pavement as he sat waiting for the light to change. The Patriot Riders were out in force. A row of gleaming motorcycles were parked across the 8-lane roadway from the funeral home, and a stream of bikers carrying American an Marine Corps flags crossed traffic respectfully stopped -in mid-rush hour, mind you - by local police.
Three officers in safety vests controlled traffic throughout the seven hours of the Visitation from their squad car parked on the median, and in this most impatient of commuter cities (Chicago has among the safest but rudest drivers in the country) nobody honked a horn.
Several hundred people turned out for Ryan’s viewing. Ahlgrim has a large parking lot, but many of the younger folks parked across the street near the Bikers, to make sure their elders would not have to cross such a stretch of road. I parked a long ways in the back, then walked past the honor guard of Patriot Riders, Ryan’s friends from high-school nervously smoking in their black like Goths outside a sold-out concert, elderly women with large beaded American flag pins affixed to their lapels, and heartbreakingly young soldiers – Marines, Sailors, and Army – grouped quietly and uncomfortably outside.
Inside were more family, more friends, more soldiers, including a pair of Marines rigidly “at ease” on either side of Ryan’s casket. Every 15 minutes another pair of young Marines would march forward in step from either side of the chair rows, ceremonially salute and relieve the Casket Guard, and take their place. This occurs in rotation from when the casket arrived at the Funeral Home the weekend past until they would close the casket at 10 a.m. Tuesday and carry Ryan into the hearse. Marines take care of their own.
Around the room were large poster boards of photos and remembrances. A side alcove held a screen, projector, and repeating slide show of Ryan from baby photos onward, set to music. To each side of the room and around the casket were arrayed large displays heavy with flowers, red-white-and-blue ribbons, and other mementos of Ryan’s life and service. Two older Marines, sergeants by their ribbons, stood at the back of the room. I know each family is assigned a specially trained Marine who supports the family in any way possible through the grieving time, so I assume one of the sergeants was assigned to the Cummings and the other oversaw the Casket rotation. Older men and a few women, some in uniform from service past and others with VFW caps, moved through the room as part of the mourners.
Offering my respects to Ryan was a reminder of what 22 years old looks like in a casket. This Marine, on his third tour of duty, who chose to be Infantry, built medical facilities in Africa, offered relief after the Tsunami, served and then volunteered to return to Iraq, was just a young, small, blond boy lying there quietly.
Hard as that was, there was harder. Ryan’s buddies came from all corners of the country. Young Marines drove in from Oregon, from Arizona, among others, to pay their respects. Those of his platoon that could be there gathered at one point at Ryan’s casket, arms around each other to support themselves in their grief and their injuries, with their canes, their crutches, and their courage, to weep. Then they left. Another Marine, an officer weather-beaten and sunburned, in his desert fatigues right down to the boots (just off a plane? O’Hare is only 20 minutes away) came up the drive, clutching his wife’s hand tightly. He stayed a short time, then left, walking away quickly.
Hardest of all were those visitors in civilian dress, lapel buttons reading “Marine Mom” or “Marine Dad” with fixed expressions of sorrow and their own personal thousand-mile stares. They offered condolences with guilt oozing from them in waves, carefully avoiding the obvious relief; a Marine Honor Guard was not standing over their child in that casket. Of all the mourners, all the inadequate expressions of sorrow (are there ever adequate ones?) from family and friends, the Marine Parents’ was the deepest. They were comforting their own comrades in arms, just as Ryan’s buddies had done. They knew the fear, and the grief. The Book of Remembrance was filled with notes from Marine Parents, and Former Military Parents, and – worst of all – Military Former Parents. “In sorrow for your time and in remembrance of my son SFC Brent Adams, KIA 12/1/05 Ramadi.” “Our sincerest gratitude for their bravery, the family of Cpl. Billy Taylor KIA outside Fallujah 11/30/05.”
Many writers both online ended their written wishes with the Marine motto: “Semper Fi,” short for “Semper Fidelis,” or “Always Faithful.” I’ve been enjoying the freedoms of this country for 41 years; in this time Marines have fought and died in a half-dozen wars and dozens of “participatory exercises.” The Marines are, as ever, “Always Faithful” to the U.S. and its citizens. Right now Ryan is being carried as part of a full Military procession, families in mini-vans, and a large, flag-waving Motorcycle Gang south on Illinois 53 to his internment. I don’t know if the slow procession will get honked at, cut apart by traffic patterns, buzzed by idiots in hot rods, or picketed at graveside by that obscene preacher from Topeka. I hope Ryan will be carried into his resting place with the dignity and honor he and his family deserve. I am grateful to the Bikers. I am grateful to the Marines.
I am grateful to Ryan and his family.
I am grateful.
Jill C. McCoy
Ooops...
Okay, a bitch has an announcement!
Take your seats…this is huge.
This bitch is quitting cigs.
Sigh.
Although my ass adores smoking…truly adores it…it is bad for me…gulp…and my ass has to think long term.
Detoxification shall begin June 26th…prepare for extreme bitchitude!
Sob.
Vodka followed by grape cran, however, is still in play!
Moving forward…
Have you ever said something you regret? You know, said something in an attempt at humor that blew up in your face, fell completely flat and insulted someone?
How about this...how about saying something insensitive and not at all funny in an attempt at humor during a…say, press conference…when you should have been fucking serious and answered a few questions?
Hmmm, how about that?
Have you ever tried to be funny because you bloody well hate press conferences, the press in general and having to answer to anyone?
Well then, you have something in common with a certain Scooter B.!
Our President, who has never been one to take a press conference as an opportunity to educate the masses, was downright assholic yesterday…at a press conference he clearly didn’t really want to participate in. In true Scooter B. form, he cracked himself up with lame assed barbs, bizarre nicknames for reporters and all manner of toddler-esque antics.
And then…he launched head first into the land of complete assholes…by poking fun at Los Angeles Times reporter Peter Wallsten for wearing sunglasses, which Scooter B. referred to as shades. You should know that Scooter didn’t let his initial Are you going to ask that question wearing shades? nastification sit. Oh no, he continued to gnaw on the bone, despite the look of absolute horror on most reporters faces.
Wallsten wears sunglasses because he has Stargardt's disease, a form of macular degeneration.
Scooter B. has since apologized, stating that he needles the press out of affection.
Wallsten is still waiting for his question about White House credibility in the post Rove CIA leak probe clearance era to be answered.
Join the club, Wallsten…join the fucking club.
Well! Mother Bush is going to be so disappoin...ummm...err...never mind.
Take your seats…this is huge.
This bitch is quitting cigs.
Sigh.
Although my ass adores smoking…truly adores it…it is bad for me…gulp…and my ass has to think long term.
Detoxification shall begin June 26th…prepare for extreme bitchitude!
Sob.
Vodka followed by grape cran, however, is still in play!
Moving forward…
Have you ever said something you regret? You know, said something in an attempt at humor that blew up in your face, fell completely flat and insulted someone?
How about this...how about saying something insensitive and not at all funny in an attempt at humor during a…say, press conference…when you should have been fucking serious and answered a few questions?
Hmmm, how about that?
Have you ever tried to be funny because you bloody well hate press conferences, the press in general and having to answer to anyone?
Well then, you have something in common with a certain Scooter B.!
Our President, who has never been one to take a press conference as an opportunity to educate the masses, was downright assholic yesterday…at a press conference he clearly didn’t really want to participate in. In true Scooter B. form, he cracked himself up with lame assed barbs, bizarre nicknames for reporters and all manner of toddler-esque antics.
And then…he launched head first into the land of complete assholes…by poking fun at Los Angeles Times reporter Peter Wallsten for wearing sunglasses, which Scooter B. referred to as shades. You should know that Scooter didn’t let his initial Are you going to ask that question wearing shades? nastification sit. Oh no, he continued to gnaw on the bone, despite the look of absolute horror on most reporters faces.
Wallsten wears sunglasses because he has Stargardt's disease, a form of macular degeneration.
Scooter B. has since apologized, stating that he needles the press out of affection.
Wallsten is still waiting for his question about White House credibility in the post Rove CIA leak probe clearance era to be answered.
Join the club, Wallsten…join the fucking club.
Well! Mother Bush is going to be so disappoin...ummm...err...never mind.
Wednesday, June 14, 2006
A dream based exploration...
Okay, Cranky Prof, you brought this down from a bitch's twisted mind...
Note to newish readers – a bitch is a firm believer in dream based correction. The following is a dream-based exploration…as in my dreams…as in not real. If you have issues with man on man spanking, chains…umm, pissed off Polar Bears…err, yeah…ummm, stuff like that you may not want to proceed (wink).
ABB’s Dream-based exploration of the past 48 hours…
A bitch slipped into slumber last night after hearing news of a certain Scooter B.’s hectic 48 hours of work…hard work…meetings and such followed by plane trips. So, of course, a bitch dreamed a little dream about that shit…
Eyes darting nervously back and forth, Scooter B. sat behind his desk. His stomach churned…his pulse raced...anxiety was in high gear.
Rove was off the hook…free from the potential and probing clutches of Fitz.
Oh Gawd…Scooter B. indulged in a sob…Rove is going be so angry! Jesus, this is almost as bad as facing Mother’s wrath…almost.
Wiping his blood shot eyes, Scooter B. rose and quickly checked the lock on the door.
Eyes closed he took a deep breath. All was well, everything was cool…altitude maintained.
Rove would just have to understand that Scooter B. did things differently…being a decider and all. So, things changed…like polls, the ability to spin complete failures as massive successes, the ability to rally the masses behind distracting wedge issues like gay marriage. Yeah, things were different because decisions were made…by The Decider!
Fucking polls. Who the heck follows them anyway. Scooter B. spat on the floor, his mouth bitterly twisted.
Shit, did it even matter? This presidential shit should be as worry free as guard duty was back in the day.
A chill suddenly swept the room followed by the foul and powerful stench of rotting flesh. Scooter B. grabbed the door knob, his palms wet and attempted to turn it…
“Cease, you fucking coward! Turn and face your master.” a voice whispered softly.
Slowly Scooter B. turned towards the voice and, coming face to face with the newly sorta-exonerated Rove, he fainted away.
“Wake up, you fucking idiot! Get the hell up and face the music!” Rove harshly commanded while viciously slapping Scooter B’s cheeks.
“Stop.” Scooter said weakly. “For the love of Gawd, please stop hitting my ass!”
Opening his eyes, Scooter found himself tied and bound facing a cold damp stone wall. I must be in the bowels of the White House…in the dungeon…he thought. Oh no, no one will ever find me here.
“Mother!” he sobbed. “Mother, please!”
“Listen and nod when you understand. You will fix this mess. I will help you. You will convene a War Council…they will give you advice…you will pretend to take it and make sure the media sees you looking receptive.” Rove softly directed.
“NO! I’m The Decider! No one tells me what to…”
Swat.
“Fine! Just stop hitting me! Okay…okay, okay…will do. Got it.” Scooter said breathlessly.
“Good. To continue, you will then take a trip to Iraq to demonstrate that it is not so bad there and that you are committed.”
“Hell, no! That place is dangerous as a motherfucker! No!”
Swat.
“Ugh…oh Mother, please save me!" Scooter sobbed.
Swat.
“Okay! Damn you. Okay…okay, okay…got it. I’m going to Iraq to meet with…umm, Iraqi people.” He gasped.
Satisfied, Rove left Scooter B. to make the arrangements. If all went well, things could be set back to rights just in time for November. This bullshit wouldn’t hold on its own, but with the tried and true wedge issues in play they might stand a chance.
Yeah, Rove thought smugly, give the base a social issue and they got for it every time. By the time they clue in, I’ll be sitting pretty in my villa on a fat assed lockbox full of green backs sipping Martinis and talking trash.
Suddenly Rove caught a blur out of the corner of his eye.
“Wha…” he began only to be struck down by the massive Polar Bear that launched itself at him.
“How do you feel about global warming now, motherfucker.” The bear snarled (shit, it’s my dream…go get ‘em, Polar Bear!) and then proceeded to feast upon Rove.
"Compassionate conservative, my Polar Bear ass!" the bear muttered, then spit out a portion of Rove’s ear. "Gawd, you taste like a hypocritical, bigoted, egotistical misogynist!"
"Give me my habitat back, you Earth destroying motherfucker!" The Polar Bear rose up and prepared to pounce. Wwith a fierce growl she lunged and…
Whew!
A bitch woke up in a flash.
Talk about inconvenient truth (wink)...
Note to newish readers – a bitch is a firm believer in dream based correction. The following is a dream-based exploration…as in my dreams…as in not real. If you have issues with man on man spanking, chains…umm, pissed off Polar Bears…err, yeah…ummm, stuff like that you may not want to proceed (wink).
ABB’s Dream-based exploration of the past 48 hours…
A bitch slipped into slumber last night after hearing news of a certain Scooter B.’s hectic 48 hours of work…hard work…meetings and such followed by plane trips. So, of course, a bitch dreamed a little dream about that shit…
Eyes darting nervously back and forth, Scooter B. sat behind his desk. His stomach churned…his pulse raced...anxiety was in high gear.
Rove was off the hook…free from the potential and probing clutches of Fitz.
Oh Gawd…Scooter B. indulged in a sob…Rove is going be so angry! Jesus, this is almost as bad as facing Mother’s wrath…almost.
Wiping his blood shot eyes, Scooter B. rose and quickly checked the lock on the door.
Eyes closed he took a deep breath. All was well, everything was cool…altitude maintained.
Rove would just have to understand that Scooter B. did things differently…being a decider and all. So, things changed…like polls, the ability to spin complete failures as massive successes, the ability to rally the masses behind distracting wedge issues like gay marriage. Yeah, things were different because decisions were made…by The Decider!
Fucking polls. Who the heck follows them anyway. Scooter B. spat on the floor, his mouth bitterly twisted.
Shit, did it even matter? This presidential shit should be as worry free as guard duty was back in the day.
A chill suddenly swept the room followed by the foul and powerful stench of rotting flesh. Scooter B. grabbed the door knob, his palms wet and attempted to turn it…
“Cease, you fucking coward! Turn and face your master.” a voice whispered softly.
Slowly Scooter B. turned towards the voice and, coming face to face with the newly sorta-exonerated Rove, he fainted away.
“Wake up, you fucking idiot! Get the hell up and face the music!” Rove harshly commanded while viciously slapping Scooter B’s cheeks.
“Stop.” Scooter said weakly. “For the love of Gawd, please stop hitting my ass!”
Opening his eyes, Scooter found himself tied and bound facing a cold damp stone wall. I must be in the bowels of the White House…in the dungeon…he thought. Oh no, no one will ever find me here.
“Mother!” he sobbed. “Mother, please!”
“Listen and nod when you understand. You will fix this mess. I will help you. You will convene a War Council…they will give you advice…you will pretend to take it and make sure the media sees you looking receptive.” Rove softly directed.
“NO! I’m The Decider! No one tells me what to…”
Swat.
“Fine! Just stop hitting me! Okay…okay, okay…will do. Got it.” Scooter said breathlessly.
“Good. To continue, you will then take a trip to Iraq to demonstrate that it is not so bad there and that you are committed.”
“Hell, no! That place is dangerous as a motherfucker! No!”
Swat.
“Ugh…oh Mother, please save me!" Scooter sobbed.
Swat.
“Okay! Damn you. Okay…okay, okay…got it. I’m going to Iraq to meet with…umm, Iraqi people.” He gasped.
Satisfied, Rove left Scooter B. to make the arrangements. If all went well, things could be set back to rights just in time for November. This bullshit wouldn’t hold on its own, but with the tried and true wedge issues in play they might stand a chance.
Yeah, Rove thought smugly, give the base a social issue and they got for it every time. By the time they clue in, I’ll be sitting pretty in my villa on a fat assed lockbox full of green backs sipping Martinis and talking trash.
Suddenly Rove caught a blur out of the corner of his eye.
“Wha…” he began only to be struck down by the massive Polar Bear that launched itself at him.
“How do you feel about global warming now, motherfucker.” The bear snarled (shit, it’s my dream…go get ‘em, Polar Bear!) and then proceeded to feast upon Rove.
"Compassionate conservative, my Polar Bear ass!" the bear muttered, then spit out a portion of Rove’s ear. "Gawd, you taste like a hypocritical, bigoted, egotistical misogynist!"
"Give me my habitat back, you Earth destroying motherfucker!" The Polar Bear rose up and prepared to pounce. Wwith a fierce growl she lunged and…
Whew!
A bitch woke up in a flash.
Talk about inconvenient truth (wink)...
Tuesday, June 13, 2006
Duck & cover all over again...
This bitch is still trying to recover from the complete lack of shot and awe that a certain Karl Rove is off the hook.
Yep, no shock…oh, and no awe either!
While surfing the internets a bitch stumbled across this shit about American laboratories competing to make a new nuclear bomb.
Pause.
Rewind.
American laboratories are competing to make a new and improved nuclear bomb.
What the fuck?
It seems that, while spending the people’s money and indulging in a Congressional pork feast, Congress also approved a new nuclear bomb project as part of a defense spending bill. The new nuclear bomb…which strangely reminds this bitch of the New Coke from back in the day…is being called a reliable replacement warhead.
You’ve got to hand it to them on that one…reliable replacement warhead is fantastical bullshit in action.
This bitch can’t help but wonder about the dual messages being sent out to the world.
Democracy breeds peace…reliable replacement warhead.
Proponents of the new reliable replacement warhead-esque nuclear bomb are pitching that it will, get this, ***clears throat to allow for easy bullshit verbalization*** serve as a strategic deterrent by replacing the multitudes of nuclear bombs we have currently degrading somewhere near you.
Translation to the world…nuclear bombs are strategic deterrents and magnificent fear creating war toys that make everyone take your ass seriously.
Key moment of bullshit…by creating new reliable replacement yet still capable of massive destruction bombs America can get rid of...somehow…our existing bombs, which are degrading, and thus reduce our arsenal!
Critics, forever trapped in the framework of logic a reason, argue that this Build a Better Bomb Game will trigger a new arms race with China and/or Russia while exposing our complete adoration of all things that blow up to nuclear aspiring nations like Iran and North Korea.
Keep in mind that we signed a treaty with a certain Russia in 2002 agreeing to cut our nuclear inventories. So, it appears that we are replacing old eggs with fresh eggs and calling that a reduction.
Who wants to bet on whether Russia takes that twisted new math bullshit laden and flawed logic and runs with it all the way to their own laboratory?
Great.
Good times.
It’s like the 1950s are breaking out all over the place!
Anyone want to play duck and cover?
Yep, no shock…oh, and no awe either!
While surfing the internets a bitch stumbled across this shit about American laboratories competing to make a new nuclear bomb.
Pause.
Rewind.
American laboratories are competing to make a new and improved nuclear bomb.
What the fuck?
It seems that, while spending the people’s money and indulging in a Congressional pork feast, Congress also approved a new nuclear bomb project as part of a defense spending bill. The new nuclear bomb…which strangely reminds this bitch of the New Coke from back in the day…is being called a reliable replacement warhead.
You’ve got to hand it to them on that one…reliable replacement warhead is fantastical bullshit in action.
This bitch can’t help but wonder about the dual messages being sent out to the world.
Democracy breeds peace…reliable replacement warhead.
Proponents of the new reliable replacement warhead-esque nuclear bomb are pitching that it will, get this, ***clears throat to allow for easy bullshit verbalization*** serve as a strategic deterrent by replacing the multitudes of nuclear bombs we have currently degrading somewhere near you.
Translation to the world…nuclear bombs are strategic deterrents and magnificent fear creating war toys that make everyone take your ass seriously.
Key moment of bullshit…by creating new reliable replacement yet still capable of massive destruction bombs America can get rid of...somehow…our existing bombs, which are degrading, and thus reduce our arsenal!
Critics, forever trapped in the framework of logic a reason, argue that this Build a Better Bomb Game will trigger a new arms race with China and/or Russia while exposing our complete adoration of all things that blow up to nuclear aspiring nations like Iran and North Korea.
Keep in mind that we signed a treaty with a certain Russia in 2002 agreeing to cut our nuclear inventories. So, it appears that we are replacing old eggs with fresh eggs and calling that a reduction.
Who wants to bet on whether Russia takes that twisted new math bullshit laden and flawed logic and runs with it all the way to their own laboratory?
Great.
Good times.
It’s like the 1950s are breaking out all over the place!
Anyone want to play duck and cover?
Monday, June 12, 2006
Ain't we got fun?
This weekend was productive and hectic as can be! Saturday morning there was the Komen Race for the Cure and then a bitch and C-Money headed off to the ‘burbs to visit with our brother. Saturday night a certain Play Husband’s birthday spectacular went down…a bitch fizzled out, but a great time was had by all along with several goblets of vodka and cran.
Sunday a bitch visited with my mentee. As most of you know, her older sister is pregnant and 14 years old. My mentee is 13 and freaking out at the change about to manifest in her life as a result. Sadly, this pregnancy is a solid teaching moment…but that offers little satisfaction since a bitch adores both young women and knows that a life of struggle just got more complicated for them.
Which brings me to some thoughts that have developed after reading some of the comments to my War post.
Ain’t we got fun?
This bitch is not one to be bleak just for the fun of it. My ass is actually rather optimistic. For real! But a bitch is not one to explore fantasy in the face of a real challenge. Explore reality and you will find the path to the positive change required, but you can not change what you do not fully understand. So, a bitch is a student of reality and an explorer of the paths made clear by understanding it.
In America, money creates a lot of options and choices. Lack of money limits both. As we debate whether to make the newly approved HPV vaccine available as part of the required protocol of vaccines for public school attendance we must factor in the element of poverty. Required equals mandatory Medicaid coverage, which means that the poor get a shot they otherwise could not afford.
If you are comfortable with that…with a vaccine developed to address a disease and the cancer it causes being denied your fellow Americans because they can’t afford it…well, then you are comfortable with that. A bitch isn’t being bleak…my ass just prefers to work with reality. Plus, this bitch has long felt that any cancer vaccine would test our national loyalties between profit and public health. Mayhap this is the quiz before the real test?
A bitch is a fan of the Jazz Age and there is a line from a song of that era that goes something like…the rich get rich and the poor get poorer.
It is 2006 and we are still working the same hustle of options and choices and the lack thereof.
And the rich get choices while the poor get…hmmm.
In the meantime…in between time…ain’t we got fun?
Sunday a bitch visited with my mentee. As most of you know, her older sister is pregnant and 14 years old. My mentee is 13 and freaking out at the change about to manifest in her life as a result. Sadly, this pregnancy is a solid teaching moment…but that offers little satisfaction since a bitch adores both young women and knows that a life of struggle just got more complicated for them.
Which brings me to some thoughts that have developed after reading some of the comments to my War post.
Ain’t we got fun?
This bitch is not one to be bleak just for the fun of it. My ass is actually rather optimistic. For real! But a bitch is not one to explore fantasy in the face of a real challenge. Explore reality and you will find the path to the positive change required, but you can not change what you do not fully understand. So, a bitch is a student of reality and an explorer of the paths made clear by understanding it.
In America, money creates a lot of options and choices. Lack of money limits both. As we debate whether to make the newly approved HPV vaccine available as part of the required protocol of vaccines for public school attendance we must factor in the element of poverty. Required equals mandatory Medicaid coverage, which means that the poor get a shot they otherwise could not afford.
If you are comfortable with that…with a vaccine developed to address a disease and the cancer it causes being denied your fellow Americans because they can’t afford it…well, then you are comfortable with that. A bitch isn’t being bleak…my ass just prefers to work with reality. Plus, this bitch has long felt that any cancer vaccine would test our national loyalties between profit and public health. Mayhap this is the quiz before the real test?
A bitch is a fan of the Jazz Age and there is a line from a song of that era that goes something like…the rich get rich and the poor get poorer.
It is 2006 and we are still working the same hustle of options and choices and the lack thereof.
And the rich get choices while the poor get…hmmm.
In the meantime…in between time…ain’t we got fun?
The possibilities...
A bitch just wants to take a moment to congratulate the 2006 St. Louis Komen Race for the Cure organization of volunteers for throwing down one of the most amazing fundraisers every year!
64,000 people…and one unfortunate pink dawg…came together in downtown St. Louis in a united front against breast cancer.
A bitch was beyond proud and inspired to be one of the masses.
When you witness the energy created by the people united you find it impossible to tolerate the chaos created by the people divided.
A cure, my friends, is possible...we're talking when, not if.
Just imagine the other possibilities....
Friday, June 09, 2006
War...
News that the FDA has approved the first vaccine for HPV, a sexually transmitted virus linked to some cervical cancers, is cause for celebration and bitchitude.
Let’s jump right on in…
A long while ago some asshole decided to comment rather dismissively on one of my posts because a bitch had the audacity to term the current abstinence only non-sexual sex education push as a deliberate war on women.
This bitch is on record…if it walks like it and talks like it call it what it is.
However, a bitch will allow that some clarity is due.
The current social conservative effort to keep the new HPV vaccine from being required for all school age girls and young women is an act of aggression in the war against America's founding beliefs...a war in which poor and/or minority women being used as human shields during battle.
This may be a war that is unfolding much like World War I, with unfortunate alliances and strategic mistakes resulting in massive loss of life and global devastation…but it is a war nonetheless.
The new HPV vaccine offers the prevention of cervical cancers cause by the HPV virus. The vaccine will save women’s lives. Requiring it as part of the overall required protocol for attendance to school…y’all remember all those fucking shots, right…would force the rather expensive shot to be offered through Medicaid. Poor women would then be able to get the shot.
Now treating cancer costs money, so no one in their right mind can argue that preventing the percent of cervical cancer cases that result from HPV infections violates the code of the fiscal conservative. Shit, they should be all over it!
But the social conservative…now that is another story. The social conservative, having long been allied with the no sex in the classroom except to discuss not having sex argument, went into reflex mode on the HPV vaccine. They took to the airwaves to preach that this vaccine simply should not be given to 10 and 11 year old young women because it would create a false sense of sexual freedom. Lawd, they cried, it would encourage sex before marriage.
Yes, that is bullshit…but it also a curious glimpse into the future should we continue to bend to the will of social conservatism.
Take my hand and walk with me down the path of doom and flawed theory…
Should one of the HIV vaccines reach FDA approval, do we not approve it for pre-teens…because it would probably be more affective before sexual activity too…because it might create a false sense of security?
Woops…watch yourself, now…you took a stumble on the path!
Did something scare you?
Sorry, a bitch should have warned you about the ghosts of precedents past and how they have a habit of reappearing in our future.
How about…hmmm…oh, all the other sexually transmitted diseases? If we wake up tomorrow and all sexually transmitted diseases are suddenly and blessedly preventable through vaccination…will social conservatives fight against those vaccines too because the ability to fuck and not die/be made ill/risk your reproductive future threatens marriage?
This, my brothers and sisters, is the unspoken battle cry of the social conservative. Death, pain and illness are their weapons and they seek to defend marriage between one man and one woman and thus fortify their theocratic stronghold.
So, the next time someone questions why this bitch is knee deep in the marriage battle even though my happy ass has not intention of ever getting hitched this is my answer…
We are at war with a movement prepared to see us die rather than live outside of their strict moral code.
And 'traditional marriage' is a front for theocratic control over our bodies, minds and lives.
If it walks like it and talks like it call it what it fucking is...
War.
Let’s jump right on in…
A long while ago some asshole decided to comment rather dismissively on one of my posts because a bitch had the audacity to term the current abstinence only non-sexual sex education push as a deliberate war on women.
This bitch is on record…if it walks like it and talks like it call it what it is.
However, a bitch will allow that some clarity is due.
The current social conservative effort to keep the new HPV vaccine from being required for all school age girls and young women is an act of aggression in the war against America's founding beliefs...a war in which poor and/or minority women being used as human shields during battle.
This may be a war that is unfolding much like World War I, with unfortunate alliances and strategic mistakes resulting in massive loss of life and global devastation…but it is a war nonetheless.
The new HPV vaccine offers the prevention of cervical cancers cause by the HPV virus. The vaccine will save women’s lives. Requiring it as part of the overall required protocol for attendance to school…y’all remember all those fucking shots, right…would force the rather expensive shot to be offered through Medicaid. Poor women would then be able to get the shot.
Now treating cancer costs money, so no one in their right mind can argue that preventing the percent of cervical cancer cases that result from HPV infections violates the code of the fiscal conservative. Shit, they should be all over it!
But the social conservative…now that is another story. The social conservative, having long been allied with the no sex in the classroom except to discuss not having sex argument, went into reflex mode on the HPV vaccine. They took to the airwaves to preach that this vaccine simply should not be given to 10 and 11 year old young women because it would create a false sense of sexual freedom. Lawd, they cried, it would encourage sex before marriage.
Yes, that is bullshit…but it also a curious glimpse into the future should we continue to bend to the will of social conservatism.
Take my hand and walk with me down the path of doom and flawed theory…
Should one of the HIV vaccines reach FDA approval, do we not approve it for pre-teens…because it would probably be more affective before sexual activity too…because it might create a false sense of security?
Woops…watch yourself, now…you took a stumble on the path!
Did something scare you?
Sorry, a bitch should have warned you about the ghosts of precedents past and how they have a habit of reappearing in our future.
How about…hmmm…oh, all the other sexually transmitted diseases? If we wake up tomorrow and all sexually transmitted diseases are suddenly and blessedly preventable through vaccination…will social conservatives fight against those vaccines too because the ability to fuck and not die/be made ill/risk your reproductive future threatens marriage?
This, my brothers and sisters, is the unspoken battle cry of the social conservative. Death, pain and illness are their weapons and they seek to defend marriage between one man and one woman and thus fortify their theocratic stronghold.
So, the next time someone questions why this bitch is knee deep in the marriage battle even though my happy ass has not intention of ever getting hitched this is my answer…
We are at war with a movement prepared to see us die rather than live outside of their strict moral code.
And 'traditional marriage' is a front for theocratic control over our bodies, minds and lives.
If it walks like it and talks like it call it what it fucking is...
War.
Dangerous bullshit...
Happy Friday! A bitch is getting fired up for a busy weekend.
Tomorrow, this bitch will rise with the sun to head downtown and walk my ass off for a cure! The forecast looks fantabulous for the morning…thank Gawd. Anyhoo, after getting my Komen on, a bitch shall head out to suburbia to visit a certain older brother for lunchitude, snacks and a drive.
And then…Saturday night…it is all about my Play Husband’s birthday spectacular. Festivities begin at 10ish at Grandma’s Politician’s Club on Manchester. Feel free to join us…but remember to bring cash, because Grandma don’t trust credit (wink).
Whew.
Looks like Sunday will be my official collapse in front of the television day.
Moving forward…
This is an official AngryBlackBitch Dangerous Bullshit Warning regarding the shit-based delusional mental swim taken by a certain Veterans Affairs Secretary Jim Nicholson before Congress yesterday.
Just because previous burglaries in the neighborhood of the unfortunate asshole who took home the personal data of almost 30 million vets have been revealed to not be deliberate data thefts does not mean that the same is true in this case.
Mr. Nicholson is desperate and desperate bullshit is often dangerous.
Say you were walking down the street window shopping and someone mugged you. You just happened to have your social security card, a list of your addresses for the past 5 years and a driver’s license in your wallet. You go to the police to report the theft and they tell you not to fret, because most of the robberies in that area have been for the cash rather than personal identification information. Would you shrug and grin and go about your bitness…or would you fret, call the major credit reporting services and put a restriction on new accounts and change those credit card numbers?
Mmmhmmm.
This has been a warning from the AngryBlackBitch Dangerous Bullshit Warning System.
We now return to your regularly scheduled bitchitude...
Tomorrow, this bitch will rise with the sun to head downtown and walk my ass off for a cure! The forecast looks fantabulous for the morning…thank Gawd. Anyhoo, after getting my Komen on, a bitch shall head out to suburbia to visit a certain older brother for lunchitude, snacks and a drive.
And then…Saturday night…it is all about my Play Husband’s birthday spectacular. Festivities begin at 10ish at Grandma’s Politician’s Club on Manchester. Feel free to join us…but remember to bring cash, because Grandma don’t trust credit (wink).
Whew.
Looks like Sunday will be my official collapse in front of the television day.
Moving forward…
This is an official AngryBlackBitch Dangerous Bullshit Warning regarding the shit-based delusional mental swim taken by a certain Veterans Affairs Secretary Jim Nicholson before Congress yesterday.
Just because previous burglaries in the neighborhood of the unfortunate asshole who took home the personal data of almost 30 million vets have been revealed to not be deliberate data thefts does not mean that the same is true in this case.
Mr. Nicholson is desperate and desperate bullshit is often dangerous.
Say you were walking down the street window shopping and someone mugged you. You just happened to have your social security card, a list of your addresses for the past 5 years and a driver’s license in your wallet. You go to the police to report the theft and they tell you not to fret, because most of the robberies in that area have been for the cash rather than personal identification information. Would you shrug and grin and go about your bitness…or would you fret, call the major credit reporting services and put a restriction on new accounts and change those credit card numbers?
Mmmhmmm.
This has been a warning from the AngryBlackBitch Dangerous Bullshit Warning System.
We now return to your regularly scheduled bitchitude...
Thursday, June 08, 2006
The race we run while the race in need of running waits for runners...
Cruising the internets while trying to eat today is a wee bit like snacking while watching an autopsy, because pictures of the very dead Al Zarqawi are on every major news site.
We get it, people! He’s dead. Okay, you can take the gruesome pictures down.
Lawd, have mercy.
Anyhoo…
Someone at CNN has a sense of humor. Specifically CNN.com, where the Top Stories include Breeder hit with dead Chihuahua…Hotel: Put that Crackberry down, you addict!...followed by Duck stalking gator caught near daycare…and ending with Madonna’s Getting Dressed.
Y’all are my kind of crazy, CNN online…get on with your bad selves!
Moving forward…
Saturday a bitch will join thousands of other St. Louisans at the 2006 Komen Race for the Cure. The race raises money for breast cancer awareness, research, screening and treatment.
Several of you sent me a link to news stories detailing how black women are particularly vulnerable to a deadly form of breast cancer. Thank you and, for those interested in learning more, that information can be found here.
The race we run while the race in need of running waits for runners…
While preparing for the Komen Race, this bitch has been contemplating the monumental efforts made towards bullshit goals…like saving/protecting/uplifting marriage, making sure the rich don’t pay taxes and building a fence on the border with Mexico.
In debating the defeated Constitutional Amendment to ban gay marriage, several Senators mentioned the apparent support for this on the state level. Many states have passed bans, some have bans pending and others are in the process of getting their ban on.
What if…oh, maybe a bitch had better stop…fuck it…
What if finding a cure for breast cancer was as crucial an issue as keeping some folks from getting hitched?
Oh no she didn’t!
Mmmmhmmm, let’s take it there. Why the hell not? What do we gain by taking the polite route, when there is nothing polite or civil about wasting the people’s time on panderific bullshit when there are HUGE and massive issues on the table.
A bitch is rolling up my sleeves…somebody get me a glass of water, ‘cause this bitch is about to work up a sweat!
What if the Senate had gathered to debate legislation for healthcare funding, research, treatment and screening?
What if you replaced gay marriage with breast cancer…and many states passed bills calling for the protection of women’s health, some had legislation pending calling for funding for screenings for low income families and other states had citizens mobilizing and going door to door passing out breast self-exam pamphlets?
Do you feel me on this?
Mercy.
Expand it, my brothers and sisters…just think about the potential of that shit for a moment.
And then ponder the race run instead…what those choices say about the individuals involved and those who caved in submission to their demands.
Social conservatives seduced the genie from the bottle…and flushed their wish down the toilet like so much shit.
It just makes me quizzical…this curious use of time, money and energy…when there are people starving, chil’ren suffering, babies dying, women and men fighting the fight of their lives against monstrous diseases...and a marriage ban was the race that was just run.
Just open the door a wee bit and glimpse the other track…gaze upon citizens gathering on the White House lawn to demand universal healthcare…see women debating the sanctity of our bodies on CNN rather than the divine nature of marriage…witness preachers bowing their heads to pray for a cure for breast cancer instead of a cure for gayness, an end to AIDS rather than an end to orientation, that the faithful be filled with love rather than hated and vanity.
What could have been…what could be…is so much more amazing, so fantastically powerful that it is almost laughable in the face of…
In the face of the race we run while the race in need of running waits for runners.
The 2006 St. Louis Komen Race for the Cure is this Saturday June 10th.
Ass backwards identity theft - VA Style...
Jumping right in, because this shit is crazy as hell...
Ass backwards identity theft VA Style...
A certain Rich requested more details on the theft of the personal identification information of United States veterans and active duty service men and women. According to the Dept. of Veterans Affairs, someone downloaded the personal information of some 26 million veterans and active duty service men and women and took it home to work on something that probably doesn't seem so fucking urgent right now.
The laptop computer onto which all this juicy information was downloaded was stolen from this poor motherfucker's home. So, the personal information…the very valuable personal information…the so valuable that it makes one shudder to think of the possible uses of it information of veterans and active duty soldiers is now out there somewhere in the hands of someone unknown.
This theft was so assbackwards that the thief may not even know what he or she has!
Not everyone watches the news.
Anyhoo...
The Dept. of Veterans Affairs sadly failed to apply the proven Tylenol technique of crisis management and chose instead to sit on the information…for some time…and then trickle it out in a manner so overflowing with reluctance that one was forced to question the validity of what was being said.
26.5 million Veterans...1.1 million active-duty personnel from all the armed forces...430,000 members of the National Guard...645,000 members of the Reserves.
What’s out there?
Names, birthdates and social security numbers.
Those made vulnerable by this fucked up ass backwards crime are being asked to monitor their accounts and credit. The problem is, the thief can sit on this shit for years…sell it for tons of cash to someone else who can sit on this shit for years.
Even if they retrieve the laptop, what are the odd that the thief was too much of a dumbass to download that shit?
Oh what the hell, who thought someone would waltz home with that kind of data on their laptop in the first place?
Hope springs eternal…
Tune in to CSPAN to watch your elected officials rush through hearings on this shit so they can get to the value voter panderific issue of flag burning!
Makes you proud to have lived this long, doesn’t it?
Ass backwards identity theft VA Style...
A certain Rich requested more details on the theft of the personal identification information of United States veterans and active duty service men and women. According to the Dept. of Veterans Affairs, someone downloaded the personal information of some 26 million veterans and active duty service men and women and took it home to work on something that probably doesn't seem so fucking urgent right now.
The laptop computer onto which all this juicy information was downloaded was stolen from this poor motherfucker's home. So, the personal information…the very valuable personal information…the so valuable that it makes one shudder to think of the possible uses of it information of veterans and active duty soldiers is now out there somewhere in the hands of someone unknown.
This theft was so assbackwards that the thief may not even know what he or she has!
Not everyone watches the news.
Anyhoo...
The Dept. of Veterans Affairs sadly failed to apply the proven Tylenol technique of crisis management and chose instead to sit on the information…for some time…and then trickle it out in a manner so overflowing with reluctance that one was forced to question the validity of what was being said.
26.5 million Veterans...1.1 million active-duty personnel from all the armed forces...430,000 members of the National Guard...645,000 members of the Reserves.
What’s out there?
Names, birthdates and social security numbers.
Those made vulnerable by this fucked up ass backwards crime are being asked to monitor their accounts and credit. The problem is, the thief can sit on this shit for years…sell it for tons of cash to someone else who can sit on this shit for years.
Even if they retrieve the laptop, what are the odd that the thief was too much of a dumbass to download that shit?
Oh what the hell, who thought someone would waltz home with that kind of data on their laptop in the first place?
Hope springs eternal…
Tune in to CSPAN to watch your elected officials rush through hearings on this shit so they can get to the value voter panderific issue of flag burning!
Makes you proud to have lived this long, doesn’t it?
Wednesday, June 07, 2006
ABB's planned discussion with the sorta-gentlemen from Missouri...
Well, the Senate blocked the same-sex marriage ban. Of course they wasted three days on this bullshit…three days of the people’s time...three long days of this bitch's time.
So, a bitch just shot an e-mail off to Senators Talent and Bond requesting my motherfucking three days back!
Mmmmhmmm…that’s right! A bitch wants my time...Mr. Hand style.
ABB's planned discussion with the sorta-Gentlemen from Missouri...
You should be prepared to discuss shit like Social Security reform, healthcare reform, why you are both obsessed with who fucks who and when and how they get busy, what national dollars are available to fix Missouri's fucked levee system…why you insist on using language like 'tax cut' when a bitch hasn’t seen a motherfucking dime back…and what, if anything, you have accomplished while in office.
As to all those trips you both take that are paid for by lobbyists. A bitch, being a proud Missourian, is going to erase those distractions right off of your to-do list and free up some time for y’all to take care of the shit you were fucking elected to handle. Don’t give that trip to Grand Cayman another thought (wink)! A bitch will go and represent Missouri…because those trips are all about business, right? Don't worry, a bitch will submit a full and detailed report.
In the meantime, this bitch would like to point out that you do-nothing pandering shits should have been tackling the brewing Iraqi civilian war crime scandal, the theft of over 2.2 million service member's/veteran's identification information, the hemorrhages in Medicaid, the still unaddressed problems with Social Security, the plan that is not a plan on immigration reform, the inconsistency of an administration that pontificates about a culture of life while America has the 2nd worst newborn mortality rate in the developed world and the fact that the nation is stone broke.
Mercy, no wonder the nation is in the midst of a rage epidemic.
So, a bitch just shot an e-mail off to Senators Talent and Bond requesting my motherfucking three days back!
Mmmmhmmm…that’s right! A bitch wants my time...Mr. Hand style.
ABB's planned discussion with the sorta-Gentlemen from Missouri...
You should be prepared to discuss shit like Social Security reform, healthcare reform, why you are both obsessed with who fucks who and when and how they get busy, what national dollars are available to fix Missouri's fucked levee system…why you insist on using language like 'tax cut' when a bitch hasn’t seen a motherfucking dime back…and what, if anything, you have accomplished while in office.
As to all those trips you both take that are paid for by lobbyists. A bitch, being a proud Missourian, is going to erase those distractions right off of your to-do list and free up some time for y’all to take care of the shit you were fucking elected to handle. Don’t give that trip to Grand Cayman another thought (wink)! A bitch will go and represent Missouri…because those trips are all about business, right? Don't worry, a bitch will submit a full and detailed report.
In the meantime, this bitch would like to point out that you do-nothing pandering shits should have been tackling the brewing Iraqi civilian war crime scandal, the theft of over 2.2 million service member's/veteran's identification information, the hemorrhages in Medicaid, the still unaddressed problems with Social Security, the plan that is not a plan on immigration reform, the inconsistency of an administration that pontificates about a culture of life while America has the 2nd worst newborn mortality rate in the developed world and the fact that the nation is stone broke.
Mercy, no wonder the nation is in the midst of a rage epidemic.
Tuesday, June 06, 2006
62 years to the day...
June 5th, 1944. The Allies delayed the D-Day invasion due to poor weather conditions. Operation Overlord is being held like an impatient thoroughbred eager to run. The invasion was crucial…many would die and those in power knew that…and many would suffer the terror of war.
Ponder the moment…the day before D-Day. Ponder that moment right after the decision was made to delay the invasion…to delay the inevitable loss of life, terror, the thunder of war, the crashing through the surf and onto the beach as a shower of bullets rain down upon you and your mates. Ponder the weight of leadership…the unfathomable anxiety of this decision…the potential of victory and the definition of defeat. Think about it for a moment…and a little bit longer…think about what must have been going on in the mind of the President of the United States 62 years ago June 5th 1944.
Fast forward…62 years whirl on by…and it is June 5th 2006. The United States of America is again at war on foreign soil. So, what occupies the time of the President of the United States June 5, 2006? Is he questioning the move to send National Guard troops to the Mexican border in the face of news that a well developed and potentially lethal terror cell has just been broken up in Canada? Is he challenging his military advisors to define victory in Iraq? Is he challenging his foreign policy advisors to nudge the new Iraqi government to fill those pesky and still empty but oh so crucial key government positions?
Or…June 5, 2006…62 years past the day pending battle gnawed at the moral center of the then President…was the current President concerned with domestic issues? Was he working on a new policy initiative to address the fact that America has the 2nd worst newborn mortality rate in the developed world…or to address the ongoing energy crisis…or to address the still unfixed problems with Social Security, education and healthcare?
Mayhap the President took the opportunity…June 5 2006…62 years after thousands of Allied soldiers ate their last meal, cracked their last joke, wrote their last letter and caught their last nap before waking June 6 1944 and dying in battle…mayhap the President of the United States chose June 5th 2006 to address the theft of thousands of veterans confidential information?
But this bitch went to bed last night knowing that the President chose June 5, 2006 to publicly announce...again...that he supports the amending of the Constitution of the United States of America to…drum roll please…ban gay marriage.
Today, June 6, 2006, on the 62nd day of the D-Day invasion…on the anniversary of a day when Americans died to liberate…the United State Senate is debating an amendment that seeks to limit and segregate.
Tomorrow June 7th, on the 62nd anniversary of the aftermath, the counting of the war dead, the mourning of those lost and contemplation of the battles yet to come…tomorrow the United States Senate will vote on an amendment...to ban gay marriage.
Take a moment to let your Senators know your thoughts on this.
Exercise some freedom and flex some liberty today…June 6, 2006…the 62nd Anniversary of D-Day.
Ponder the moment…the day before D-Day. Ponder that moment right after the decision was made to delay the invasion…to delay the inevitable loss of life, terror, the thunder of war, the crashing through the surf and onto the beach as a shower of bullets rain down upon you and your mates. Ponder the weight of leadership…the unfathomable anxiety of this decision…the potential of victory and the definition of defeat. Think about it for a moment…and a little bit longer…think about what must have been going on in the mind of the President of the United States 62 years ago June 5th 1944.
Fast forward…62 years whirl on by…and it is June 5th 2006. The United States of America is again at war on foreign soil. So, what occupies the time of the President of the United States June 5, 2006? Is he questioning the move to send National Guard troops to the Mexican border in the face of news that a well developed and potentially lethal terror cell has just been broken up in Canada? Is he challenging his military advisors to define victory in Iraq? Is he challenging his foreign policy advisors to nudge the new Iraqi government to fill those pesky and still empty but oh so crucial key government positions?
Or…June 5, 2006…62 years past the day pending battle gnawed at the moral center of the then President…was the current President concerned with domestic issues? Was he working on a new policy initiative to address the fact that America has the 2nd worst newborn mortality rate in the developed world…or to address the ongoing energy crisis…or to address the still unfixed problems with Social Security, education and healthcare?
Mayhap the President took the opportunity…June 5 2006…62 years after thousands of Allied soldiers ate their last meal, cracked their last joke, wrote their last letter and caught their last nap before waking June 6 1944 and dying in battle…mayhap the President of the United States chose June 5th 2006 to address the theft of thousands of veterans confidential information?
But this bitch went to bed last night knowing that the President chose June 5, 2006 to publicly announce...again...that he supports the amending of the Constitution of the United States of America to…drum roll please…ban gay marriage.
Today, June 6, 2006, on the 62nd day of the D-Day invasion…on the anniversary of a day when Americans died to liberate…the United State Senate is debating an amendment that seeks to limit and segregate.
Tomorrow June 7th, on the 62nd anniversary of the aftermath, the counting of the war dead, the mourning of those lost and contemplation of the battles yet to come…tomorrow the United States Senate will vote on an amendment...to ban gay marriage.
Take a moment to let your Senators know your thoughts on this.
Exercise some freedom and flex some liberty today…June 6, 2006…the 62nd Anniversary of D-Day.
Gucci Gone Wild...
Shake out your party dresses, chil’ren!
My Play Husband’s birthday extravaganza is this Saturday, June 10 @10pm!
Note to the uninitiated – Grandma don’t mess with credit, so bring cash(wink).
All are welcome, but remember to cling devoutly to the sacred commandment of the United Church of Bitchitude and Latter Day Drunks...Thou Shall Not Trifle!
My Play Husband’s birthday extravaganza is this Saturday, June 10 @10pm!
Note to the uninitiated – Grandma don’t mess with credit, so bring cash(wink).
All are welcome, but remember to cling devoutly to the sacred commandment of the United Church of Bitchitude and Latter Day Drunks...Thou Shall Not Trifle!
Monday, June 05, 2006
Beware false prophets...
Whew, this month is busy as hell! A bitch is stressed…and full to bursting with bitchitude. So, when a certain Hammer sent my ass an e-mail announcing that The Queen of Rancidity Ann Coulter’s new book was titled Godless: The Church of Liberalism…well, it touched me...it really did.
Think of my current state of bitchitude as a stew. My caldron overfloweth!
Beware false prophets…
Ann Coulter, in the time honored tradition of the morally bankrupt, seeks to draw attention away from her emaciated moral core by striking out at others. She is not the first neo-con to cast stones at liberalism. Others before her have followed the path of tired, worn out, fear mongering bullshit that lacks depth, originality, substance or clarity.
Mayhap this is a look into the soul of the author rather than her perspective on liberalism?
Anyhoo...
Ann puts forth the argument that liberalism is a faith, that liberals worship at a church and that the faith of liberalism is Gawdless. But the coin has two sides. Flip it and conservatism can also be seen as a faith, conservatives can be seen to worship at a church…but this bitch does not see them as Gawdless. All this talk of Gawdlessness is rather intellectually lazy.
The question is what Gawd they worship.
Let’s have some church, shall we?
Ann Coulter is a false prophet. The Bible gives great insight into the Ann Coulters of the world who wear the symbols and speak the language of tremendous faith yet demonstrate little to none of the behavior the Bible calls upon the faithful to participate in.
The Book of Matthew goes into detail about the false prophets and how they will appear...that they will cloak themselves in the apparel of the faithful to hide the beast beneath…they will bear rotten fruit despite their apparently healthy leaves…they should be known by those fruits and not their appearance...by their actions and not their words.
And so we have Ann Coulter…and her fruit…neo-conservatism and the fruit of that movement. Ann utilizes the language of faith and the liberal should not shy away from speaking of her in that tongue. This bitch is not afraid to be judged by my actions...by my labor and the fruits of that labor.
Know me through my actions...as my ass knows you through your actions.
And so we should judge the neo-conservative by their fruits…by their dedication to service and who they serve…do they seek social responsibility or do they seek the blasphemy of greedy profit while others want…do they feed the hungry or do they stuff themselves like gluttons at a feast…do they embrace the ill or do they cast the ill out…are they humble before the Devine One or are they boastful…would they kneel and wash the feet of the poor or do their faces screw up in repulsion at the suffering of their fellow human beings?
In neo-con explorations, the liberal becomes the whipping post for having the audacity to acknowledge our weakness and our humanity…that we are capable of great good and great evil…that we have a responsibility to this place and those who live in it…that we must strive to be the participant citizen and not the dead beat unquestioning follower of a distant and apathetic state.
And as you judge so shall you be judged...worshipful of the Gawd of material things...deplorable in your lack of caring for your fellow human beings...pitiful because you are incapable of compassion and sympathy…repulsive in your greed…loathsome because you are so willfully blasphemous in your constant debasement of faith.
The neo-con is revealed to be totally…completely…utterly unfit to judge much less offer comment on anything other than the profit of confrontational speaking tours and the monetary gains from publishing unoriginal thought...proficient only in the art of delirious denial and demonstrating the desperate vanity of the terminally insecure.
And of Ann?
Ann is worthy of pity, forever the aspiring philosopher held prisoner to the limitations of her imagination and forever doomed to regurgitate previous theory. Oh the horror of her ineptitude...how crushing the never ending cycle of seeking the extraordinary and forever achieving the predictable.
Get thee gone, Ann Coulter.
This bitch casts thee out, oh wretched stankified demon! Get thee back into the bowels of hell from whence you came!
Oh, if it were only so easy…
Think of my current state of bitchitude as a stew. My caldron overfloweth!
Beware false prophets…
Ann Coulter, in the time honored tradition of the morally bankrupt, seeks to draw attention away from her emaciated moral core by striking out at others. She is not the first neo-con to cast stones at liberalism. Others before her have followed the path of tired, worn out, fear mongering bullshit that lacks depth, originality, substance or clarity.
Mayhap this is a look into the soul of the author rather than her perspective on liberalism?
Anyhoo...
Ann puts forth the argument that liberalism is a faith, that liberals worship at a church and that the faith of liberalism is Gawdless. But the coin has two sides. Flip it and conservatism can also be seen as a faith, conservatives can be seen to worship at a church…but this bitch does not see them as Gawdless. All this talk of Gawdlessness is rather intellectually lazy.
The question is what Gawd they worship.
Let’s have some church, shall we?
From the Book of Matthew (7:15-20)
Beware false prophets who come to you in sheep’s clothing, but inwardly are ravenous wolves.
Ann Coulter is a false prophet. The Bible gives great insight into the Ann Coulters of the world who wear the symbols and speak the language of tremendous faith yet demonstrate little to none of the behavior the Bible calls upon the faithful to participate in.
The Book of Matthew goes into detail about the false prophets and how they will appear...that they will cloak themselves in the apparel of the faithful to hide the beast beneath…they will bear rotten fruit despite their apparently healthy leaves…they should be known by those fruits and not their appearance...by their actions and not their words.
And so we have Ann Coulter…and her fruit…neo-conservatism and the fruit of that movement. Ann utilizes the language of faith and the liberal should not shy away from speaking of her in that tongue. This bitch is not afraid to be judged by my actions...by my labor and the fruits of that labor.
Know me through my actions...as my ass knows you through your actions.
And so we should judge the neo-conservative by their fruits…by their dedication to service and who they serve…do they seek social responsibility or do they seek the blasphemy of greedy profit while others want…do they feed the hungry or do they stuff themselves like gluttons at a feast…do they embrace the ill or do they cast the ill out…are they humble before the Devine One or are they boastful…would they kneel and wash the feet of the poor or do their faces screw up in repulsion at the suffering of their fellow human beings?
In neo-con explorations, the liberal becomes the whipping post for having the audacity to acknowledge our weakness and our humanity…that we are capable of great good and great evil…that we have a responsibility to this place and those who live in it…that we must strive to be the participant citizen and not the dead beat unquestioning follower of a distant and apathetic state.
And as you judge so shall you be judged...worshipful of the Gawd of material things...deplorable in your lack of caring for your fellow human beings...pitiful because you are incapable of compassion and sympathy…repulsive in your greed…loathsome because you are so willfully blasphemous in your constant debasement of faith.
The neo-con is revealed to be totally…completely…utterly unfit to judge much less offer comment on anything other than the profit of confrontational speaking tours and the monetary gains from publishing unoriginal thought...proficient only in the art of delirious denial and demonstrating the desperate vanity of the terminally insecure.
And of Ann?
Ann is worthy of pity, forever the aspiring philosopher held prisoner to the limitations of her imagination and forever doomed to regurgitate previous theory. Oh the horror of her ineptitude...how crushing the never ending cycle of seeking the extraordinary and forever achieving the predictable.
Get thee gone, Ann Coulter.
This bitch casts thee out, oh wretched stankified demon! Get thee back into the bowels of hell from whence you came!
Oh, if it were only so easy…
June 4, 1989...
1989 feels like ancient history. A bitch was in high school and full of drama. In my mind and in that time my worries were HUGE, my life was beyond fucked up and no one could possibly feel as desperate and freaked out as my wee bitch ass. Oh, to be young and self obsessed again…
And then it was June…1989…and news began to filter through that something was happening in China…something happening in Tiananmen Square. School was over for the summer break and this bitch was already bored and had planted myself in front of the television in desperation.
Something was happening in China.
Students, intellectuals and labor activists had been demonstrating for months and were camped in Tiananmen Square. A bitch was transfixed…already seduced by the power of protest and the activist life. My self pity and frustration about teen powerlessness was watered down by thoughts of rebellion, demonstration and speaking truth to power…shifting power…reclaiming individual power by any means...through protest.
Something was happening in Tiananmen Square …live and for all to see…and there was no way they would show something bad, so it was all good and freedom was breaking out everywhere and the students were leading the way. Something wonderful was happening, right?
This bitch watched religiously with thoughts of Selma, Montgomery and Birmingham dancing in my mind.
See!
This is how it happens! This is how social change goes down.
Something was happening in Tiananmen Square.
June 4, 1989…something happened in China…something happened in Tiananmen Square.
Something happened in China when protestors died in Tiananmen Square. We do not have the benefit of ignorance because we were witness to this…live and on television for all to see. Ratings…murder…breathless anchors…screams and gunshots…and then that horrible black screen…the shocking silence…followed by the nothing that was something.
Tiananmen Square lingered and unsettled and silently indicted. Later, as a bitch watched the fall of the Berlin Wall, Tiananmen Square emerged again…not again…please not again…please…live and on television for all to see. The Wall fell, and the world went wild with joy…and history books were edited to remember.
So, what do the history books say of Tiananmen Square? Do they have a brief mention and feature that picture of the brave young man standing before a tank? Do the history books speak of China’s deliberate shift…a growing economy and a mega power…of the reward handed them in the face of Tiananmen Square…the reward of silence as America and so many other nations lowered their gaze, slowly and with sick deliberate grace, turned away and chose to forget that something happened in China…something happened June 4, 1989…in Tiananmen Square.
Live and on television for all to see.
What happened to the man who stood in front of that tank?
Was he crushed by the dragon when the cameras were shut off?
Forever defiant and captured on film…a visible reminder that someone was there and then was not anymore after June 4, 1989.
And then it was June…1989…and news began to filter through that something was happening in China…something happening in Tiananmen Square. School was over for the summer break and this bitch was already bored and had planted myself in front of the television in desperation.
Something was happening in China.
Students, intellectuals and labor activists had been demonstrating for months and were camped in Tiananmen Square. A bitch was transfixed…already seduced by the power of protest and the activist life. My self pity and frustration about teen powerlessness was watered down by thoughts of rebellion, demonstration and speaking truth to power…shifting power…reclaiming individual power by any means...through protest.
Something was happening in Tiananmen Square …live and for all to see…and there was no way they would show something bad, so it was all good and freedom was breaking out everywhere and the students were leading the way. Something wonderful was happening, right?
This bitch watched religiously with thoughts of Selma, Montgomery and Birmingham dancing in my mind.
See!
This is how it happens! This is how social change goes down.
Something was happening in Tiananmen Square.
June 4, 1989…something happened in China…something happened in Tiananmen Square.
Something happened in China when protestors died in Tiananmen Square. We do not have the benefit of ignorance because we were witness to this…live and on television for all to see. Ratings…murder…breathless anchors…screams and gunshots…and then that horrible black screen…the shocking silence…followed by the nothing that was something.
Tiananmen Square lingered and unsettled and silently indicted. Later, as a bitch watched the fall of the Berlin Wall, Tiananmen Square emerged again…not again…please not again…please…live and on television for all to see. The Wall fell, and the world went wild with joy…and history books were edited to remember.
So, what do the history books say of Tiananmen Square? Do they have a brief mention and feature that picture of the brave young man standing before a tank? Do the history books speak of China’s deliberate shift…a growing economy and a mega power…of the reward handed them in the face of Tiananmen Square…the reward of silence as America and so many other nations lowered their gaze, slowly and with sick deliberate grace, turned away and chose to forget that something happened in China…something happened June 4, 1989…in Tiananmen Square.
Live and on television for all to see.
What happened to the man who stood in front of that tank?
Was he crushed by the dragon when the cameras were shut off?
Forever defiant and captured on film…a visible reminder that someone was there and then was not anymore after June 4, 1989.
Friday, June 02, 2006
Pondering levees...
June 1 was the official beginning of hurricane season and it feels like that shit just ended. For some, the 2005 hurricane season isn’t over by a long shot.
Watching the news a bitch was struck by how completely out of fucking touch some people are. How the hell can the advice be to get 3 days worth of hurricane preparedness shit together when most folks are living paycheck to paycheck? And aren’t there still people in the Gulf region living in trailers…in unlivable houses…in chaos?
Lawd, have mercy.
While indulging in a good moment of complete disgust, a bitch actually picked up some shit a talking head was saying about the Army Corps of Engineers and the admission that the levees protecting New Orleans may have been engineered incorrectly. My first instinct was to curse them, but then…well, it’s kind of comforting to have someone involved in the shit spiral that is levee based protection admit that they fucked up.
Listening to the ongoing debate over all things engineering and levee related reminded this bitch of economics. Specifically, the massive pile of stank bullshit economics that gets hurled out towards the citizen masses during political campaigns.
After 230 years one would think that economists would have latched onto some fucking consistent theory regarding what makes the economy thrive and what makes it all go to shit.
Mercy.
They probably have figured it out, but if you listen to the debates soon to come you’ll begin to wonder if folks are living in the same country. The systems won’t jive, the analysis of the current situation will be stone crazy and both sides will have some multi-degreed expert stating his or her case with authority.
Sadly, this bitch now considers it all bullshit…if it walks like it and talks like it, then fuck it all the hell.
Which brings me back to engineering and the levees. The multiple departments, organizations and crowds of engineers are all stating different and conflicting shit…with authority.
It would be bullshit…it walks like it and talks like it…but people’s lives are at stake.
Nope, in the case of engineering miscalculations and pontifications a bitch is declaring gross negligence.
Catch that knee before it jerks…listen to the debate a while…and ask yourself if you’d sleep well in a house built on land protected by any levee built by those crazy talking and in love with argument for argument’s sake people, who willfully contradicting each other only to hear the sound of their own voice and talk in terms of 'a wide range of errors' instead of acknowledge the body count that resulted from those errors.
Mmmhmmm.
Thought so.
Watching the news a bitch was struck by how completely out of fucking touch some people are. How the hell can the advice be to get 3 days worth of hurricane preparedness shit together when most folks are living paycheck to paycheck? And aren’t there still people in the Gulf region living in trailers…in unlivable houses…in chaos?
Lawd, have mercy.
While indulging in a good moment of complete disgust, a bitch actually picked up some shit a talking head was saying about the Army Corps of Engineers and the admission that the levees protecting New Orleans may have been engineered incorrectly. My first instinct was to curse them, but then…well, it’s kind of comforting to have someone involved in the shit spiral that is levee based protection admit that they fucked up.
Listening to the ongoing debate over all things engineering and levee related reminded this bitch of economics. Specifically, the massive pile of stank bullshit economics that gets hurled out towards the citizen masses during political campaigns.
After 230 years one would think that economists would have latched onto some fucking consistent theory regarding what makes the economy thrive and what makes it all go to shit.
Mercy.
They probably have figured it out, but if you listen to the debates soon to come you’ll begin to wonder if folks are living in the same country. The systems won’t jive, the analysis of the current situation will be stone crazy and both sides will have some multi-degreed expert stating his or her case with authority.
Sadly, this bitch now considers it all bullshit…if it walks like it and talks like it, then fuck it all the hell.
Which brings me back to engineering and the levees. The multiple departments, organizations and crowds of engineers are all stating different and conflicting shit…with authority.
It would be bullshit…it walks like it and talks like it…but people’s lives are at stake.
Nope, in the case of engineering miscalculations and pontifications a bitch is declaring gross negligence.
Catch that knee before it jerks…listen to the debate a while…and ask yourself if you’d sleep well in a house built on land protected by any levee built by those crazy talking and in love with argument for argument’s sake people, who willfully contradicting each other only to hear the sound of their own voice and talk in terms of 'a wide range of errors' instead of acknowledge the body count that resulted from those errors.
Mmmhmmm.
Thought so.
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