Blowing Off the Dust

Wow.  It’s been nearly three years since I dropped my “Final” message here.  I’ve wasted a whole lot of time on Facebook these past few years, and it’s taken me this long to decide… enough.  As I said in a recent blowout there, “Facebook is high school all over again, but with wrinkles, cat pictures, Candy Crush, and photos of grandchildren.”

I miss writing.  Really writing.  Facebook is the lowest common denominator:  Memes.  Reposts of others’ statuses.  Digital vomitus.  There’s very little meaningful material to be found there.  It’s voyeurism and egocentric flagellation, mind-numbing “games” that waste valuable time, and worst of all, a security nightmare.

I’m done with it.

I really don’t care what my decades-past high school friends think about our world, since we rarely agree anyway.  I care even less what they ate for lunch, saw in town, or what their grandchild or pet did that made them laugh or cry.  The last time I breathed the same air as these folks was nearly thirty years ago, and it’s not likely I’ll see them again, so why feign interest?  Most of them hate my politics, and I hate theirs, so to hell with them – I don’t want to ‘get together’ just to have someone insult me or my core beliefs under my own roof.  Most of these Facebook “Friends” were people I couldn’t stand to listen to or spend time with three decades ago.  Why do I bother what they think of me today?

Worse, I’m sick of constantly being horrified at what my kids are doing.  I don’t need to hear about how my eldest – who was making something of himself and doing great things – has surrendered to boozing, whoring, and going nowhere.  I fear for him, but I don’t need the anxiety of seeing it rubbed in my face almost daily.

I need a creative outlet again… something that lets me express what I’m feeling without sharing it with the whole damned world.  I just wish WordPress allowed for a closed board.  I’ll maybe look into moving to Joomla or Drupal CMS, but for now, this will have to do.

Maybe with a little elbow grease and creative attention, this place can shine again.

A Little Mississippi Disco

How ’bout a timeout for some Delta Blues from… a European sensation? I live barely more than a stone’s throw from the Mississippi Delta, I’ve frequented the locals hangouts, and so naturally, I learned about Seasick Steve… from the BBC program Top Gear. Seems he’s really quite a hit on the other side of the Atlantic. Don’ matter – it’s all good.

Oh, and one thing I forgot to mention – his instruments are unique.  That guitar he’s playing is his “Three String Wonder”, and the box he’s stomping on is his “Mississippi Drum Machine”.   Many of his instruments are either home-made or salvaged “beyond repair” re-creations.  He even plays a rigged one-string broomstick looking thing.  The guy is a freaking musical genius.

Rocky Horrors

I notice Mrs. Who tactfully “neglected” to mention why I’m not taking her to see The Rocky Horror Show.  You see, we DID go together a few years ago, and oh what fun we had!  [/sarc]

For example:

  • * The traditionally eclectic “Lips” audience was present, and it was Halloween, so they were all dressed out.  Pensacola has a very pronounced liberal subculture, and of course Rocky Horror brings that out all the more, so…. We ended up being seated next to Sarah Palin – or at least a 6’2″ replica with foundation poorly attempting to hide a 5 o’clock shadow.  Naturally, a political figure such as Sarah Palin would have her own bodyguard – in this case, a butch companion who challenged every glance with his/her own nasty disposition.  “Sarah” was making stupid little anti-Palin jabs, for which I shot at least a few disapproving glances.   Clearly “her” chum interpreted my bristling as “homophobic”, but I would no more tolerate from a hetero couple the uncouth rhetoric and snide remarks about retarded babies.   Mrs. Who wouldn’t let me make a scene.  (no pun intended)
  • Frank N. Furter was played rather convincingly by a local middle school teacher – which rather disturbed me.  Seriously, as a parent, would you be at least a wee bit concerned upon learning that your sixth-seventh grade son’s favorite teacher spends his weekends wearing lipstick, a bustier and fishnets on a community theatre stage? Why couldn’t the actor have been an interior designer, a used car salesman or a meat packer… Oh, wait. :mrgreen:
  • Columbia was played BRILLIANTLY by a very attractive and talented young woman who has only one hand.  I don’t know if it was by birth defect or an accident that she was deprived her of her hand, but she obviously didn’t try to hide the fact.  It was just gone at the wrist, and she wore no prosthetic. At first it was a little shocking to see her waving a full-length forearm with no hand on the end, but she played it well with the implied dire warning to Brad and Janet that you just don’t fuck with Frank N. Furter!

(SIDENOTE: Mrs. Who rolled her eyes at me when I mused, “I bet Halloween presents all kinds of fun opportunities for someone already missing a hand!” Hey, you gotta make the most of what you’re dealt. Am I right?)

  • The highlight of MY evening, however, was the “action” I got in the public restroom on the Mezzanine level of the theatre… There I was, in a tiny three-urninal restroom at intermission… I settled into position at the center gate, and just as I was about to… uh “let go,” I instead nearly jumped out of my skin when the guy to my left burst into loud and boisterous song.  (Okay, so the acoustics in that tiny room were phenomenal!)   Then, just as suddenly, the guy to my right picked up at the second bar and began to harmonize.  They were really belting it out, and all I wanted to do was pee.  In peace.  Without incident or public attention. After the bottomless sweet tea at dinner and then having to wait for intermission, just a satisfying, solid stream of bladder relief was all I was after. Really, is that too much to ask?

But here I was, sandwiched right smack-dab in the middle of the most startlingly bizarre a capella performance I had ever witnessed. And when I say ‘witnessed,’ I mean that I felt like I had been suddenly thrust out onto center stage… Surely, there must be hidden cameras.  I almost felt obligated to sing along, or clap, dance… something.  I just froze.  I had a sudden case of stagefright.  Performance anxiety.  Whatever. No doubt visibly horrified, I looked carefully to my left and to my right.  My two impromptu cast members were looking past me at each other and back to me as they carried on.  Obviously amused by my predicament, they grinned at each other but they never skipped a note.  Thankfully, they soon carried their duet to the sinks and I… I managed.

No, that kind of trauma doesn’t need to be relived.

October 15th – Angel Bear’s Day

Something someone said ignited an old cinder a few days ago, where it’s smoked and simmered in the back of my brain as I learned of old-favorite blogger, Frank J’s new addition.  Of course thanks are due in no small part to his lovely wife and T-Shirt Model, Sarah K.  Welcome, Princess Buttercup(Thankfully, she favors her maternal genes – she’s adorable!)

However, it’s the time of year, the turn of seasons, the month of October that reminds me each year of how my life could have been different today.  My first response is of false-bravado and thanksgiving, “whew! I can’t imagine!”  But deep, deep down, there’s a sadness at the thought of kissing little feet, gobbling little fingers, and feeling a tired little body snuggle up to her Daddy – me – for comfort.  Amid the maddening schedules of two working middle-aged parents and a grundle of grumbling teens, we would have had to work-in the first-priority demands of a little princess of our own.  Topping the list of financial demands that college-age and driving teens bring would have been diapers and formula, pediatric visits, and some form of daycare, whether it be in the form of modified work schedules or, as a last resort, outside help.

The stress on a middle aged father with little in assets beyond my Big Bag o’ Neuroses™ would have been daunting, to say the least.  From that perspective, I was certainly ‘spared’ the added turmoil and financial burdens.  But at what cost?

Some days I find that I miss what I have never known.  The thought of spoiling a little girl, my little girl…  The smell of her hair, the sweetness of her smile, the lyrical beauty of her laughter, and the heart-rending bitterness of her tears.  But most of all, her eyes – looking into my own with the sweetness, trust and love that a father can only know from his daughter.  Oh, what a treasure I have missed!

Repeatedly, I have dreamed lately of a child, and in those dreams that child is ours.  I awake puzzled by the impossibility – how can this be?  Then I remembered:  it was this day just three years ago that we lit a candle for our littlest Angel Bear,  Bernadette.  Bernadette might have surprised us and come out a Benjamin, instead.  Of course that would have been okay too.  But in my heart – no, in my soul, I felt her. I don’t think to mention it to Mrs. Who because it makes her sad, but sometimes when I’m all alone, I talk to her.  I wonder if her GrandmaBear is teaching her how to find trouble – and I daydream what it would have been like to witness the two of them together here on earth…  Mankind would have known no more spoiled child than her Grandma would have made!

Mrs. Who called a short while ago to tell me she was going to work late to prepare for a sub for Monday’s Great Event.  I didn’t tell her what or of whom I had been thinking…  As sad as I feel, I know how the subject can cause her to plummet.  Maybe later, when we can hold each other.

One of the things I love most about my beautiful wife is how she simply adores little ones.  Frankly, they terrify me.  To bits!  I am stand-offish around everyone, but small children in particular.  Sometimes I don’t know if she’s more frustrated or amused by my reactions to little ones, but I know she’s been hurt when I have dispassionately dismissed the loss of our Little Bear as a mixed-blessing.  It’s true that I can’t imagine our lives, starting all over again with a little one while we’re nearing the finish line with the rest.  Maybe it’s true that I’m jaded, calloused, and just too much a fool…

But I do often imagine a little angel-face with her mommy’s eyes.  And in those moments, it’s tough to imagine how it is we survive without her.

October 15  is Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day.  If you or someone you love has missed meeting their angel, light a candle at 7 pm tonight and say a short prayer for those precious little souls who wait on us.

We blinked.

Pam posted a story from American Thinker that examines the plight of modern day France, where Muslims routinely block the streets daily for prayers, claiming they have limited room in their mosques.  A dire warning for the Future of America was issued – soon the same thing would be happening on American soil.

Well, it seems we were asleep at the wheel.  Just a few days ago, a classmate emailed these pictures from New York City (the original included text follows the images):

This is NYC on Madison Ave

This is an accurate picture of every Friday afternoon in several locations throughout NYC where there are mosques with a large number of Muslims that cannot fit into the mosque – They fill the surrounding streets, facing east for a couple of hours between about 2 & 4 p.m. – Besides this one at 42nd St & Madison Ave,there is another, even larger group, at 94th St & 3rd Ave, etc., etc. – Also, I presume, you are aware of the dispute over building another “high rise” Mosque a few blocks from “ground zero.”  With regard to that one, the “Imam” refuses to disclose where the $110 million dollars to build it is coming from and there is a lawsuit filed to force disclosure of that information – November can’t come soon enough.

This is in New York City on Madison Avenue, not in France or the Middle East or Yemen or Kenya!
Is there a message here????  Yes, there is, and they are claiming America for Allah. If we don’t wake up soon, we are going to “politically correct” ourselves right out of our own country!

But let a Christian church just try to get a permit to put up a nativity display during “winter holiday season”. I have no words for what I’m feeling as I watch what is happening in our country.

Calling Señor Kettle

It seems California has a little problem:

California Penal Code Sections 833-851.90


834b. (a) Every law enforcement agency in California shall fully cooperate with the United States Immigration and Naturalization Service regarding any person who is arrested if he or she is suspected of being present in the United States in violation of federal immigration laws.

(b) With respect to any such person who is arrested, and suspected of being present in the United States in violation of federal immigration laws, every law enforcement agency shall do the following:

(1) Attempt to verify the legal status of such person as a citizen of the United States, an alien lawfully admitted as a permanent resident, an alien lawfully admitted for a temporary period of time or as an alien who is present in the United States in violation of immigration laws. The verification process may include, but shall not be limited to, questioning the person regarding his or her date and place of birth, and entry into the United States, and demanding documentation to indicate his or her legal status.

(2) Notify the person of his or her apparent status as an alien who is present in the United States in violation of federal immigration laws and inform him or her that, apart from any criminal justice proceedings, he or she must either obtain legal status or leave the United States.

(3) Notify the Attorney General of California and the United States Immigration and Naturalization Service of the apparent illegal status and provide any additional information that may be requested by any other public entity.

(c) Any legislative, administrative, or other action by a city, county, or other legally authorized local governmental entity with jurisdictional boundaries, or by a law enforcement agency, to prevent or limit the cooperation required by subdivision (a) is expressly prohibited.

Fucking assclowns.

Any of this look familiar?  Like, perhaps a certain law in Arizona that has been the cause of California officials calling for boycotts and charges of racial profiling and Federal lawsuits? Someone might want to point out to California officials that their law is rather vague on the whole ‘racial profiling’ gig.  California Code 834b offers absolutely none of the provisions that protect individuals from racial profiling as prescribed in the Arizona law.  What fucking kind of racists are they, anyhow?!

As for that last part, section c: I believe the mayors of Los Angeles and San Francisco might ought to be looking for a call from the State Attorney’s office soon, regarding an upcoming appointment for a rather public ass-crawling.  Perhaps a call to the State’s representatives demanding such an investigation would be in order.

When you communicate with California representatives, you might also want to mention that due to their state’s despicable behavior and betrayal of the American People and open hostility to the citizens of Arizona, California produce no longer has a place on your dinner table.  Perhaps even remind them of the further consequences of their State’s reckless behavior in inciting civil discord among the ranks of ungrateful illegals whom nurse at the teat of the taxpayer.  And no, the parasites are not fucking welcome!

Finally, while you’re feeling the high of civic activism, a gesture of support to Arizona for leading the charge to protect our borders can’t hurt.

TIP – LEARN ESPAÑOL:  When you meet an illegal on the street or in your community, the proper way to greet them is to say boisterously, “¡Vete a la chingada!”

My rants. My memories. My revelries. Go get your own.