Well, crap. Forget about lugging around 50 pound bags of salt from now on. It didn't seem to be a big deal at the time but now, some hours later, the friggin' tennis elbow has flared up and my arm hurts from wrist to shoulder.
Age just sucks some days.
Will need to have DS3 carry the spitted chickkie out to the grill for me as I don't think I can lift even that little 5 pound weight. Argh. $#)%$(#!&@!)%_#)%#)($!(*@!(*!$&)$#%
Saturday, July 5, 2008
More Darwin Award nominees
This is so sad. What in the world were these people thinking? It's a hydroelectric dam, for heavens sake...
Tragedy in Slovenia
Tragedy in Slovenia
Out of the water! Snark attack!
"Snarky." What a wonderful word. Somewhere between full-out Bitch Attack but above the ire-level of, oh, say, a "polite murmur of demurral."
I'm feeling rather snarky today. Decided I really needed to get something in my stomach. Now I'm feeling rather bilious. That's another good word. An overabundance of bile, you know. Goes back to the days when "doctors" thought there were four "humors:"
black bile, yellow bile, phlegm, and blood
These humors determined a person's temperament. Bilious meant you had a problem with too much yellow bile which made a person peevish or ill-natured.
Black bile made you melancholic. There isn't such a thing as black bile. Wonder where that came from?
Phlegmatic is one of those people who is calm, I suppose. Kind of like someone stoned out of their minds.
Sanguine, the one for blood, is a person who is confident and can be impulsive.
autochthonous. Another really cool word. It means:
1. pertaining to autochthons; aboriginal; indigenous (opposed to heterochthonous).
2. Pathology.
a. found in the part of the body in which it originates, as a cancerous lesion.
b. found in a locality in which it originates, as an infectious disease.
3. Psychology. of or pertaining to ideas that arise independently of the individual's own train of thought and seem instead to have some alien or external agency as their source.
4. Geology. (of rocks, minerals, etc.) formed in the region where found. Compare allochthonous.
Just thought you'd like to know.
Here's something else to ponder on...
The Prezzy, aka Shrub, was heckled while making a speech at, of all places, Monticello. The hecklers were hauled off by the Secret Squirrels, probably to jail. All I can say is that T. Jefferson is probably rolling in his grave. After all, it is Jefferson who stated:
We should all keep that in mind, eh? After all, "In endeavors to improve our situation, we should never despair."
--Thomas Jefferson to John Quincy Adams, 1817. ME 15:148
Remind me of that.
More on the Chimp's speech here: Dispatches from the Culture Wars
And, from the alternately infuriating and enlightening Helena Cobban: Bush at Monticello: The Irony
I'm feeling rather snarky today. Decided I really needed to get something in my stomach. Now I'm feeling rather bilious. That's another good word. An overabundance of bile, you know. Goes back to the days when "doctors" thought there were four "humors:"
black bile, yellow bile, phlegm, and blood
These humors determined a person's temperament. Bilious meant you had a problem with too much yellow bile which made a person peevish or ill-natured.
Black bile made you melancholic. There isn't such a thing as black bile. Wonder where that came from?
Phlegmatic is one of those people who is calm, I suppose. Kind of like someone stoned out of their minds.
Sanguine, the one for blood, is a person who is confident and can be impulsive.
autochthonous. Another really cool word. It means:
1. pertaining to autochthons; aboriginal; indigenous (opposed to heterochthonous).
2. Pathology.
a. found in the part of the body in which it originates, as a cancerous lesion.
b. found in a locality in which it originates, as an infectious disease.
3. Psychology. of or pertaining to ideas that arise independently of the individual's own train of thought and seem instead to have some alien or external agency as their source.
4. Geology. (of rocks, minerals, etc.) formed in the region where found. Compare allochthonous.
Just thought you'd like to know.
Here's something else to ponder on...
The Prezzy, aka Shrub, was heckled while making a speech at, of all places, Monticello. The hecklers were hauled off by the Secret Squirrels, probably to jail. All I can say is that T. Jefferson is probably rolling in his grave. After all, it is Jefferson who stated:
"The spirit of the times may alter, will alter. Our rulers will become corrupt, our people careless. A single zealot may commence persecutor, and better men be his victims. It can never be too often repeated that the time for fixing every essential right on a legal basis is while our rulers are honest and ourselves united. From the conclusion of [their] war [for independence, a nation begins] going down hill. It will not then be necessary to resort every moment to the people for support. They will be forgotten, therefore, and their rights disregarded. They will forget themselves but in the sole faculty of making money, and will never think of uniting to effect a due respect for their rights. The shackles, therefore, which shall not be knocked off at the conclusion of [that] war will remain on [them] long, will be made heavier and heavier, till [their] rights shall revive or expire in a convulsion."
--Thomas Jefferson: Notes on Virginia Q.XVII, 1782.
It sickens me to even think of the Chimp blathering while on the soil of Monticello. Almost to the point of physical nausea.
Another appropriate quote:
"I may err in my measures, but never shall deflect from the intention to fortify the public liberty by every possible means, and to put it out of the power of the few to riot on the labors of the many."
--Thomas Jefferson to John Tyler, 1804. ME 11:33
--Thomas Jefferson: Notes on Virginia Q.XVII, 1782.
It sickens me to even think of the Chimp blathering while on the soil of Monticello. Almost to the point of physical nausea.
Another appropriate quote:
"I may err in my measures, but never shall deflect from the intention to fortify the public liberty by every possible means, and to put it out of the power of the few to riot on the labors of the many."
--Thomas Jefferson to John Tyler, 1804. ME 11:33
We should all keep that in mind, eh? After all, "In endeavors to improve our situation, we should never despair."
--Thomas Jefferson to John Quincy Adams, 1817. ME 15:148
Remind me of that.
More on the Chimp's speech here: Dispatches from the Culture Wars
And, from the alternately infuriating and enlightening Helena Cobban: Bush at Monticello: The Irony
Friday, July 4, 2008
Im in ur fridge eatin ur foodz
Well, not really.
Interesting how perceptive your children become as they get older. To illustrate:
When DS1 and DS2 had vehicles that needed any type of repair, from brakes to a complete engine overhaul or major transmission work, they did the work themselves.
They removed the frozen bolts.
They loosened locked up pistons.
They operated a cutting torch.
They did it all, start to finish, with help from Haynes manuals and Himself. Himself generally confined himself to safety advice and a boost when muscles were needed.
Earlier today, DS2 strolled out and, on his way to get the mower, politely inquired of Himself, "Where is SS and why are you working on his car?"
Himself replied, "He is in CL doing things with LMU and will be back tonight. There isn't anything he could do to help with this anyway."
DS2 pondered this for about 5 seconds, looked straight at Himself in a manner reminiscent of someone looking at a newly sprouted second head and asked, "When we had to remove engines and do all this kind of thing we had to do it all by ourselves. Why doesn't he?"
Excellent question, that.
There doesn't seem to be a sensible answer, either.*
*sigh*
* I have my own opinions about how helpful SS is. Think about teats on a boar. Or a dead horse. You get the picture, I'm sure.
Interesting how perceptive your children become as they get older. To illustrate:
When DS1 and DS2 had vehicles that needed any type of repair, from brakes to a complete engine overhaul or major transmission work, they did the work themselves.
They removed the frozen bolts.
They loosened locked up pistons.
They operated a cutting torch.
They did it all, start to finish, with help from Haynes manuals and Himself. Himself generally confined himself to safety advice and a boost when muscles were needed.
Earlier today, DS2 strolled out and, on his way to get the mower, politely inquired of Himself, "Where is SS and why are you working on his car?"
Himself replied, "He is in CL doing things with LMU and will be back tonight. There isn't anything he could do to help with this anyway."
DS2 pondered this for about 5 seconds, looked straight at Himself in a manner reminiscent of someone looking at a newly sprouted second head and asked, "When we had to remove engines and do all this kind of thing we had to do it all by ourselves. Why doesn't he?"
Excellent question, that.
There doesn't seem to be a sensible answer, either.*
*sigh*
* I have my own opinions about how helpful SS is. Think about teats on a boar. Or a dead horse. You get the picture, I'm sure.
Further Ruminations on VWP (work in progress)
Gentle Readers, this next section can be construed a being mean and nasty. So be it. I'm not pulling any punches, kids. This is the way I see it. If it makes you angry or uncomfortable, that's OK. You'll get over it. I've thought about these things at some length and some conclusions I have drawn aren't pretty.
VWP are very fond of grass. Lots and lots and lots of very green grass. It's unclear to me exactly what the purpose is for of all that nicely cropped vegetation. VWP do some darned weird things to keep that green looking, well, greeny. Some of those weird things are disastrous to birds, animals, possible VWC and the environment in general. Take spraying chemicals, for instance. OK, so the logic is there won't be any pesky weeds. There also won't be squirrels, birds, earthworms or other naturally occurring forms of life. It's beyond me why anyone in their right mind would object to dandelions or clover or whatever... Clover is pretty and dandelions are useful.* VWP use lots of gasoline cruising around on their Clean Green Lawn Tractor Machines mowing and aerating and thatching and mowing some more and fertilizing so the grass will grow more so it has to be mowed yet again. This is totally nonsensical. Grass isn't xeriscaping. It has to have all that stuff done to it plus, ya gotta water it. Just plow the stuff under, plant native plants and vegetables. At least there would be some sort of return for the gas and water usage. That makes sense. But, then again, I'm a non-VWP so I don't get it.
Very many VWP also like to appear to be "green" in their sensibilities. These folks are often the same ones referred to in the above paragraph. OK, so you're recycling paper to save the earth for your VWC. What about all the wastage and pollution from other facets of your existence. Just because you recycle paper doesn't mean that you are anything whatsoever like "green."** Perhaps you have really "gone over the top" and bought a hybrid vehicle. OK, so you aren't using tons of petroleum but where the hell do you think the electricity comes from to charge those batteries? Atomic power? Coal? Where? I'm not a rocket scientist but I know it sure as hell isn't just floating around in the aether, waiting to fill your car batteries.
VWP seem to get a real boost when they have the opportunity to advise someone who is not VW how to live their lives. We're all guilty of this to some extent, it's one of those annoying things about human nature. My observation is that the VWPs who tend to be advisers are also often VR. Some of the advice dispensed is so obnoxious that it's easy to dismiss. Other times, it's subtle, mean jabs. The obnoxious ones are totally oblivious. The subtle ones have put thought into their venom.
A seemingly odd aberration on the part of some VWP is their fondness for "The Good Old Days."*** Magazines, movies, gatherings like recreations and rendezvous, that sort of thing. It's totally beyond me why an accountant would choose to dress up like a mountain man from the 16th or 17th century and skin things. Or an attorney pretend to be a voyageur. Just thinking about what was needed to survive, day to day, wears me out. It's fatiguing to imagine those people in a mountain cabin all winter long. Or paddling a canoe miles and miles and miles on a small amount of beans and some booze. I can't believe that the wide-eyed folks wandering around oohing and aahing about hatchet throwing and soap making could possibly survive without a modern infrastructure. Maybe that's what makes the whole reminisce thing so nice. The illusory fable about The Noble Savage, Simpler Days or something. Lovely and comforting to think about with no actual burden of survival or accountability.
A particular kind of VWM enjoys a "sport" called Big Game Hunting. Calling what these people do "sport" is White Mendacity at it's most egregious. Where is the masculinity or sport in shooting a bull elk from 3 miles away using a high-powered rifle and a scope? Then paying some other person, probably an honest Redneck who thinks you're a bonehead, to dress the kill. They take the meat and hide, you get the trophy head to hang on your wall. You know why they think you're a bonehead? Because you are. You're a lazy coward. A dastardly caitiff. An unscrupulous blackguard. That Redneck you look down your nose at hunts, yup, shore nuff. But he hunts for food, up close and personal. He (or she) dresses their kill, takes it home and it feeds their family. They sell the hides for extra cash. They probably also run traplines. It's damned sure you've never walked a trapline nor removed a critter from a trap. You'd get your hands dirty. You? You hang dead animal heads on your wall and think you're a Great White Hunter. You are the ethical descendant, direct and in unbroken moral descent, of the VWP who hunted the American Bison to the edge of extinction, skinning the beasts and leaving everything else to rot. You should be ashamed of your very existence on this planet. But you're not, more's the pity.****
Some other VWP like to comfort themselves and assuage whatever passes for a conscience with membership in organizations like those "peeetuh" people.***** I have a slight acquaintance with a couple of them, to my sorrow and intellectual horror. These folks are as White as you can possibly get. There aren't a lot of them out here in the sticks, thankfully. Mostly we get the storm troopers who are stupid enough to let farm raised chinchillas loose in the middle of an upper Midwest January. (You folks better hope none of us actual people get our hands around your necks. Those poor creatures died and died horribly. You're thoughtless idiots.) Being a non-VWP who lives in the sticks, I know exactly where that beef on my table comes from. I've helped raise them, participated in slaughter and respect their lives. I have killed chickens and helped slaughter hogs. Don't talk to me about cattle being intelligent, compassionate beings. Your VWC's gerbil has more sense than a cow. Have you lost all sense of perspective? Are you totally loony? You've obviously never in your life had any sort of an encounter with a real, live bovine, swine or fowl. (Cattle aren't intelligent nor are they compassionate, you fool. Hogs are a lot better but still, they eat their piglets. Chickens are just plain old rock-stupid.) Don't babble on like you do. It labels you as a flatfoot city kid and just makes you appear absurd.
Very many VWP seem to hold pre-school education in high reverence. This is somewhat baffling to those of us who hold Jean Piaget's words dear, "Play is the work of children." Sure, our school system is a mess but I don't really fault the teachers. I hold parents and government guilty. Teachers can only work with what you send them, parents. Being VW and sending your little kid to Early Childhood Education to, hopefully, become a genius is faulty reasoning on your part. Talk to your infants, not baby talk, talk to them. Read to your kids. Let them play and get dirty or wet or bruised or whatever. They won't learn how to adequately address the real world if their only frame of reference is a protective bubble, a classroom and sanitary, spotless living conditions. I don't advocate slatternly behavior just let the poor children be children! Three year olds being forced to sit in a classroom and learn by rote? Any thinking person should know that isn't likely to work for 99% of those kids. I will point the reader to a blog here: Play is the work of Children. One VWF of my acquaintance became enraged when her children came to play at our house and, subsequently and as children do, got filthy dirty and wet. This poor unfortunate VWF hasn't spoken a word to me in the many years since that incident. It still makes me wonder.
* Dandelion wine, while not exactly commercial standard stuff, works in a pinch. Just call it a "tonic." My WCTU Gramma made dandelion wine in a crock under her kitchen work table. It was acceptable to do that because, after all, it was for medicinal purposes. Uh huh. Dandelion greens are delicious, too. Made like wilted lettuce... mmmmmmmm.
** That "green" thing bothers me. It's like religion, it's too damned easy. A sop for consciences that otherwise would be overburdened by guilt.
*** From my recollection of what my parent's told me about their lives before WW2, there wasn't such a thing as the "good Old Days." Life was tough, in many cases hand-to-mouth. I can't say how well I would do ,either, but I do have some old-timey skills that would help. It would be a start, at least. Again, though, I'm non-VWP and have a damned clear idea of just what it takes to survive. That doesn't make me better than anyone else, just more realistic, I guess.
**** I know, I know, but these "hunters" infuriate me to the point of being inarticulate.
***** If this offends any of you, I really am sorry. You need to get real, though. Death is a part of life. That's the way it is. I don't mistreat my animals but I don't delude myself with some anthropomorphic illusion of any particular animal's similarity to people. Sorry, doesn't cut it, not out here.
VWP are very fond of grass. Lots and lots and lots of very green grass. It's unclear to me exactly what the purpose is for of all that nicely cropped vegetation. VWP do some darned weird things to keep that green looking, well, greeny. Some of those weird things are disastrous to birds, animals, possible VWC and the environment in general. Take spraying chemicals, for instance. OK, so the logic is there won't be any pesky weeds. There also won't be squirrels, birds, earthworms or other naturally occurring forms of life. It's beyond me why anyone in their right mind would object to dandelions or clover or whatever... Clover is pretty and dandelions are useful.* VWP use lots of gasoline cruising around on their Clean Green Lawn Tractor Machines mowing and aerating and thatching and mowing some more and fertilizing so the grass will grow more so it has to be mowed yet again. This is totally nonsensical. Grass isn't xeriscaping. It has to have all that stuff done to it plus, ya gotta water it. Just plow the stuff under, plant native plants and vegetables. At least there would be some sort of return for the gas and water usage. That makes sense. But, then again, I'm a non-VWP so I don't get it.
Very many VWP also like to appear to be "green" in their sensibilities. These folks are often the same ones referred to in the above paragraph. OK, so you're recycling paper to save the earth for your VWC. What about all the wastage and pollution from other facets of your existence. Just because you recycle paper doesn't mean that you are anything whatsoever like "green."** Perhaps you have really "gone over the top" and bought a hybrid vehicle. OK, so you aren't using tons of petroleum but where the hell do you think the electricity comes from to charge those batteries? Atomic power? Coal? Where? I'm not a rocket scientist but I know it sure as hell isn't just floating around in the aether, waiting to fill your car batteries.
VWP seem to get a real boost when they have the opportunity to advise someone who is not VW how to live their lives. We're all guilty of this to some extent, it's one of those annoying things about human nature. My observation is that the VWPs who tend to be advisers are also often VR. Some of the advice dispensed is so obnoxious that it's easy to dismiss. Other times, it's subtle, mean jabs. The obnoxious ones are totally oblivious. The subtle ones have put thought into their venom.
A seemingly odd aberration on the part of some VWP is their fondness for "The Good Old Days."*** Magazines, movies, gatherings like recreations and rendezvous, that sort of thing. It's totally beyond me why an accountant would choose to dress up like a mountain man from the 16th or 17th century and skin things. Or an attorney pretend to be a voyageur. Just thinking about what was needed to survive, day to day, wears me out. It's fatiguing to imagine those people in a mountain cabin all winter long. Or paddling a canoe miles and miles and miles on a small amount of beans and some booze. I can't believe that the wide-eyed folks wandering around oohing and aahing about hatchet throwing and soap making could possibly survive without a modern infrastructure. Maybe that's what makes the whole reminisce thing so nice. The illusory fable about The Noble Savage, Simpler Days or something. Lovely and comforting to think about with no actual burden of survival or accountability.
A particular kind of VWM enjoys a "sport" called Big Game Hunting. Calling what these people do "sport" is White Mendacity at it's most egregious. Where is the masculinity or sport in shooting a bull elk from 3 miles away using a high-powered rifle and a scope? Then paying some other person, probably an honest Redneck who thinks you're a bonehead, to dress the kill. They take the meat and hide, you get the trophy head to hang on your wall. You know why they think you're a bonehead? Because you are. You're a lazy coward. A dastardly caitiff. An unscrupulous blackguard. That Redneck you look down your nose at hunts, yup, shore nuff. But he hunts for food, up close and personal. He (or she) dresses their kill, takes it home and it feeds their family. They sell the hides for extra cash. They probably also run traplines. It's damned sure you've never walked a trapline nor removed a critter from a trap. You'd get your hands dirty. You? You hang dead animal heads on your wall and think you're a Great White Hunter. You are the ethical descendant, direct and in unbroken moral descent, of the VWP who hunted the American Bison to the edge of extinction, skinning the beasts and leaving everything else to rot. You should be ashamed of your very existence on this planet. But you're not, more's the pity.****
Some other VWP like to comfort themselves and assuage whatever passes for a conscience with membership in organizations like those "peeetuh" people.***** I have a slight acquaintance with a couple of them, to my sorrow and intellectual horror. These folks are as White as you can possibly get. There aren't a lot of them out here in the sticks, thankfully. Mostly we get the storm troopers who are stupid enough to let farm raised chinchillas loose in the middle of an upper Midwest January. (You folks better hope none of us actual people get our hands around your necks. Those poor creatures died and died horribly. You're thoughtless idiots.) Being a non-VWP who lives in the sticks, I know exactly where that beef on my table comes from. I've helped raise them, participated in slaughter and respect their lives. I have killed chickens and helped slaughter hogs. Don't talk to me about cattle being intelligent, compassionate beings. Your VWC's gerbil has more sense than a cow. Have you lost all sense of perspective? Are you totally loony? You've obviously never in your life had any sort of an encounter with a real, live bovine, swine or fowl. (Cattle aren't intelligent nor are they compassionate, you fool. Hogs are a lot better but still, they eat their piglets. Chickens are just plain old rock-stupid.) Don't babble on like you do. It labels you as a flatfoot city kid and just makes you appear absurd.
Very many VWP seem to hold pre-school education in high reverence. This is somewhat baffling to those of us who hold Jean Piaget's words dear, "Play is the work of children." Sure, our school system is a mess but I don't really fault the teachers. I hold parents and government guilty. Teachers can only work with what you send them, parents. Being VW and sending your little kid to Early Childhood Education to, hopefully, become a genius is faulty reasoning on your part. Talk to your infants, not baby talk, talk to them. Read to your kids. Let them play and get dirty or wet or bruised or whatever. They won't learn how to adequately address the real world if their only frame of reference is a protective bubble, a classroom and sanitary, spotless living conditions. I don't advocate slatternly behavior just let the poor children be children! Three year olds being forced to sit in a classroom and learn by rote? Any thinking person should know that isn't likely to work for 99% of those kids. I will point the reader to a blog here: Play is the work of Children. One VWF of my acquaintance became enraged when her children came to play at our house and, subsequently and as children do, got filthy dirty and wet. This poor unfortunate VWF hasn't spoken a word to me in the many years since that incident. It still makes me wonder.
* Dandelion wine, while not exactly commercial standard stuff, works in a pinch. Just call it a "tonic." My WCTU Gramma made dandelion wine in a crock under her kitchen work table. It was acceptable to do that because, after all, it was for medicinal purposes. Uh huh. Dandelion greens are delicious, too. Made like wilted lettuce... mmmmmmmm.
** That "green" thing bothers me. It's like religion, it's too damned easy. A sop for consciences that otherwise would be overburdened by guilt.
*** From my recollection of what my parent's told me about their lives before WW2, there wasn't such a thing as the "good Old Days." Life was tough, in many cases hand-to-mouth. I can't say how well I would do ,either, but I do have some old-timey skills that would help. It would be a start, at least. Again, though, I'm non-VWP and have a damned clear idea of just what it takes to survive. That doesn't make me better than anyone else, just more realistic, I guess.
**** I know, I know, but these "hunters" infuriate me to the point of being inarticulate.
***** If this offends any of you, I really am sorry. You need to get real, though. Death is a part of life. That's the way it is. I don't mistreat my animals but I don't delude myself with some anthropomorphic illusion of any particular animal's similarity to people. Sorry, doesn't cut it, not out here.
Thursday, July 3, 2008
Weird, that....
We live out here in the midst of Nowhere. Out on the deck it's peaceful and quiet. Nothing but the sound of the breeze in the treetops, river lapping...
until another one of those prop-jets flies overhead. There have been a lot of those in the last two weeks.
I am curious as to who those people are and why they are flying over us.
Weird.
until another one of those prop-jets flies overhead. There have been a lot of those in the last two weeks.
I am curious as to who those people are and why they are flying over us.
Weird.
Ruminations on VWP*
In ruminating on VWP, I have been having some trouble distinguishing between them, Rednecks and Whiskey Tangos. VWP are very rarely, if ever, WT. They can be Rednecks. Rednecks can be WT or VWP. So bear with me, OK?
Parts of this are likely to be extremely offensive to various and sundry segments of the population. I warned you that there may be offensive material here and if you get offended? You were warned.
There are some things that are particularly VWP.
One would be sun visors. You know, those little doohickeys that aren't caps but shade your eyes? They are especially VW if they have catchy little slogans printed on them. "I brake for garbage sales" or something like that. They come in all kinds of materials and colors. Some are so huge they look like the wearer has a flying saucer embedded in their head. This would be a good example of that:
VWP wear these catchy little items all over the place. They are common as fleas on a rabbit on golf courses. They also come equipped with a snappy little option that will hold your expensive sunglasses for you.
Another thing VWP like is exclusivity. While admitting that the desire to belong is a common human trait, demonstrated to various degrees amongst people, VWP seem to take the idea to extremes. VWP have Their Group. That's it. They don't associate with anyone that isn't in that exclusive club.** One example would be: the Group getting blasted and behaving stupidly, whether on the golf course or at someone's party, is Just Having Fun. If anyone outside the group does something dumb like that, tsk tsk tsk. It doesn't seem to have occurred to them for a moment that they're as dumb as anyone else. (I suppose this could be called hypocrisy. Or just plain moronic.)
Female VWP of a "certain age" can be identified by blouses. With flowers of one description or another, most likely pastel. They can be distinguished from Rednecks and WT because they don't have glitter, sequins or puffy paint on their blouses. Chances are, if you are so unlucky to be asked into an older VWF's home, there will be copies of McCalls, Redbook, Ladies Home Journal, Family Circle or one of the other totally useless publications designed to entertain people who are interested in why whats-er-name stayed married to the sportscaster after he cheated on her. Or 500 ways to bore your family stiff with ground beef. Or decorating hints. If it's National Enquirer, Nascar Today or a tabloid, that isn't a VWF you've snagged, it's either a Redneck or WT.
VWP of a VR persuasion can be identified instantly by those Xi fishes on their vehicles. I have NEVER seen anyone that isn't VW with one. Ever.***
$ As a small protest about that sort of thing, I installed a bonefish on my car. Cute little fellow but I doubt any of the folks with the Other fish have the slightest clue what it stands for. As a sidelight, my observation is that the worst drivers on the road have Xi fish on their vehicles. Honest.
Another thing VWP like is a combination of golf and country clubs. The c.c. bit has a large proportion of the exclusivity thing going for it, as does golf. The two in combination are the epitome of VWP. VWP, if you get me. Not everyone who golfs is VW, nor is everyone who belongs to a country club VW. I suppose I could give my bona fides about this because most of my father's family are VWP. Outer limits VWP. It's odd to me that golf has attained some aura of exclusivity because, up to recently, it was almost as nerdy as science fairs or math contests. I golfed for years but don't anymore. Having all those VWP running about on the course is distracting. You can count on me quitting doing something when it becomes trendy.
Glossy catalogs are another thing VWP like, seemingly obsessively. Enter most any VWP home and there, in all it's glory on the coffee table, will be an L.L. Bean catalog or something similar. Eddie Bauer seems to have fallen out of favor, though, probably because the clothing is actually practical. REI isn't a big item, either. I suspect that's because most REI products have nothing to do with golf and everything to do with actual physical exercise.
Coffee table books are also a big item. The thing with those tomes is that 99% of them are totally useless. Unless you need something heavy to hold the table down in a gale. I have my doubts about VWP people with coffee table books. Do they actually read them? Having coffee table books is rather like collecting crystal animals. What do you do with the things except dust them?
VWP like uniforms. Not military-type uniforms or whatall but uniforms that allow them to tell other VWP from the Rabble. On surveying any given group of VWP, you will notice a similarity of dress. If they didn't dress alike, how could they tell they are VWP? How could other VWP recognize them? Bermuda shorts are quite popular even though most people look like total idiots in them. Cute little layered tops and shells seem to be de rigeur with VWF. Madras, short-sleeved shirts and khakis for the Male Contingent. And loafers. Any Male wearing a madras shirt and khakis who doesn't have loafers on (while not on the golf course) is an imposter. An Imposter of the First Water. Note: Any female who would, at first glance, appear to be a VWF but wearing stretch pants is a WT is disguise. (I have been notified by an informant from a notoriously VWP infestation that loafers with tassels are a good thing. Wow. Who'd a thunk?)
VWP also are obsessively attached to church. Doesn't matter at all what denomination, either. I would surmise the greatest number of church-going VWP are either Protestant or Catholic.**** I am not sure why the majority of them go, other than it is the Accepted Thing to Do. In my opinion, doing something because it's the accepted thing to do isn't a good enough reason to do it. It's impossible to tell VWP apart from anyone else by their sense of decency and honor. Church services, church volunteerism, church circles, Vacation Bible Schools, this, that and the other. And, rearing it's ugly head yet again, cooking hot dogs for Jesus. I just am having trouble getting past that one. Honest. I suppose I would attend a church if I had the slightest sense that I needed to be forgiven for something and thought that going to church would do that but I wouldn't go Just Because It's the Thing to Do. Pish tosh to that. I object strenuously to religion for the simple fact that it's too damned easy. Nothing is that easy but VWP must find some comfort in knowing that they have Done the Right Thing. Whatever that may be. When someone finds out, let me know.
More clothing and accessory thoughts... those white pants. Now, really, folks, get a grip! And monstrous, oversize purses. When I had little kids I always had a giant purse but it carried diapers and suchlike. VWP who need to carry infant equipment are likely to have a monstrously ugly diaper bag by some Yuppie designer. More often than not, the giant purses are in some unnatural print that is supposed to resemble zebra. More often than that the print doesn't resemble zebra as much as it does mangy cat fur or skunk pancake a la roadkill. Then there are the vinyl ones. The shiny, slickery vinyl ones. All I can say about that is, mercy. (If you see a seemingly VWF in public who has lamé, gold or otherwise, anywhere about her person, it's another WT. That applies to animal prints anywhere other than a purse.)
At the extreme far end of the spectrum from the purse-thing would be VWF's fondness for fanny packs. Not usually seen on Young VWP, though. Mostly Older VWP. (Folks, you know, with asses that size you shouldn't be drawing attention to them.) I suppose that those packs are handy for carrying incidentals and what not and phones? I have one but don't wear the thing, it's slung over my shoulder. I did wear it one day and a creeping feeling of dorkiness began overtaking my consciousness to the extent that I actually attended a tasting at a VWP artisanal winery. If you know me, that's pretty bad. After regaining my senses, I was embarrassed.
VWP are obsessed with the appearance of youth. How many people other than VWP do you know that have injected a deadly neuromuscular poison into various parts of their anatomy to rid themselves of wrinkles. Hm? How many? Yes, chilluns, we's speakin' of Botox. God save the Queen but that's just stooopud. VWF and VWM seem to think it's a good idea, though. They're nuts. Cosmetic plastic surgery come to mind, as well. Folks, you weren't swans in the first place, get over it. Giving yourself stiff faces and/or overinflated lips is way off the scale as far as sensible behavior is concerned.
There is also the matter of VWP's kids. Can anyone explain to me why they all look alike? They wear the same clothes and have the same dazed expressions, when they aren't being rotten brats, that is. Maybe it's the Ritalin? Or the sheer boredom of life as a VWP? I suppose this is a manifestation of the exclusivity thing or uniforms? VWP tend to buy their children weird stuff, too. Who in their right mind will get a 16 year old male a brand new Jaguar? Honestly! Who would? Well, who but a VWP with a lot of cash to throw around.
Something that balances on the line between VWP and Redneck is gospel music. Particularly country gospel music. This is kind of a swing vote. All I can say is, in my opinion, it all sounds just alike to me. It also gives me the creeps.***** eeeewwwwwwww. I'll take Handel, Bach or Beethoven, if I'm going to listen to religious music it's gonna have some actual merit as music. For a VWP, this probably would go along with church attendance. For rednecks, who knows? Maybe they like country music of any kind. Voting is now open. What do you think?
Another VWP tendency is really, really awful food. I don't know what the deal is but you can tell at a potluck or an open house or party which piece of uck the VWP brought. After some consideration, this may have a lot to do with making recipes from places like Redbook and so forth. A year or so back, I was invited to bring hors d'oeuvres to an open house honoring a new business in town. Not a problem although I will admit to stressing a bit about the whole exercise. I strolled in with my Thai bites and dipping sauce, crab-stuffed mushroom, roasted red pepper stuffed mushrooms and a couple of other things I don't currently remember and was confronted with a table overflowing with unidentifiable "foodstuffs." Seriously. I am not, to this very day, sure what those weird, pasty white rolls with some sort of meat-like filling were. Did the cook forget to bake them? Were they supposed to be that color? (If I did something like that, friends all over the globe, dynamite cooks and professional chefs alike, would know instantly without being told. Then I'd catch hell, for sure.) Now, honestly? You don't have to really be "into" cooking to present tasty food. All it takes is some intelligent thought. Green gelatin molds with sliced olives which strongly resemble boiled eyeballs is not intelligent. Those nachos were moderately intelligent. The VWF who brought them at least gave it the old college try. She may have been banned from the Sisterhood, though, for that breach in etiquette. I hope to be spared grilling parties hosted by VWP. I don't for the life of me understand why every piece of meat coming off the grill must be done to the point of whang-leather. Maybe it's all that horrible food-borne disease they're worrying about? (Nobody lives forever, people, get over it.) Personally, I have a hard time getting very enthusiastic about potato salad with sweet hot dog relish in it. Save the relish for the Church Hot Dog Festival and leave the tater salad alone.
As long as I'm thinking about food-borne illnesses... VWP, not withstanding the token not-white-VWF on commercials, have a fixation on various disease-causing bugs. Salmonella from raw chicken. Viruses on door handles. Microscopic vermin infesting your w.c. If you don't get sick from all those pathogens you can be sure you're getting sick from the chemicals you're spraying around.
Air fresheners of one sort or another are a popular item, too. God knows what VWP's homes smell like without the wafting odor of various chemicals that don't smell anything like cherries or roses or whatall.
Something that VWF seems to like is home parties of one sort or another. Home decorating or cooking or something... I am unclear whether this is a high-level Redneck thing or a lower-level VWP thing. I have been foolish enough to attend one or more of those things and I can attest, from a non-VWF standpoint, that the stuff offered is just hideous. Hideous in an eye-blasting, consciousness-wresting way. I, for one, have a really tough time becoming enthused about spending money on matching plastic sconce-things. Another alternative would be prints of charming old-timey scenes. Or flowers. Or butterflies. Or wide-eyed tykes, who look a lot like the VWP's overmedicated charming tots. Having never been invited to a Pampered Chef party, I can't say anything about that but a Longaberger party isn't too bad. As long as you can get past the stupid, cutesy things that seem to be gaining in popularity. My contention is that anyone who hasn't got enough sense to refrain from putting that trash up on public display should not be allowed out in public. They are likely to be a hazard to themselves and others. One type of home party no self-respecting VWF would attend for love nor money would be one of those sex-toy parties.****** The poor creatures stammer and stutter at admitting to attendance at a lingerie party let alone one where there are, *gasp*, sex toys right out there for God and the world to see. I've been to couple of those and they're one hell of a lot of fun. Am I embarrassed? Nope. Wasn't embarrassed to go, either. But then, I'm not a VWF.
* If you don't know what that is, you haven't been following along.
** Strangely enough, the mores and social expectations of Their Group are very reminiscent of high school.
*** You, gentle reader, may have. I haven't. Honest.
$ If you like the pirate fish, you can get one here: Ring of Fire They're really nice people and took my suggestion about putting bonefish on flags. Cool.
**** Pardon me for saying this, really, but I strongly suspect that the protty/cath thing has to do with cluelessness and Manifest Destiny. I don't see a whole lot of Jews, for instance, of any persuasion going through life as VWP.
***** My new doctor has an excessively perky receptionist who, in and of herself, is hideously annoying. What takes the cake is that she plays country gospel cd's in the waiting room of the office. If I wanted to listen to that dreck and see someone grinning like a nutjob, I'd go to church. Preferably one in an asylum.
****** I had a good friend who was an agent for the Passion Party franchise. She was telling me about inviting the Nice VWF from town who owned the flower shop. It struck the agent as odd that the Nice VWF blanched when invited to a sex toy party. In truth, she was a Very Nice VWF but, still... perhaps she thought that my friend was attempting a clumsy conversion to some type of sexual perversion? I don't know but she missed a really good party.
Parts of this are likely to be extremely offensive to various and sundry segments of the population. I warned you that there may be offensive material here and if you get offended? You were warned.
There are some things that are particularly VWP.
One would be sun visors. You know, those little doohickeys that aren't caps but shade your eyes? They are especially VW if they have catchy little slogans printed on them. "I brake for garbage sales" or something like that. They come in all kinds of materials and colors. Some are so huge they look like the wearer has a flying saucer embedded in their head. This would be a good example of that:
VWP wear these catchy little items all over the place. They are common as fleas on a rabbit on golf courses. They also come equipped with a snappy little option that will hold your expensive sunglasses for you.
Another thing VWP like is exclusivity. While admitting that the desire to belong is a common human trait, demonstrated to various degrees amongst people, VWP seem to take the idea to extremes. VWP have Their Group. That's it. They don't associate with anyone that isn't in that exclusive club.** One example would be: the Group getting blasted and behaving stupidly, whether on the golf course or at someone's party, is Just Having Fun. If anyone outside the group does something dumb like that, tsk tsk tsk. It doesn't seem to have occurred to them for a moment that they're as dumb as anyone else. (I suppose this could be called hypocrisy. Or just plain moronic.)
Female VWP of a "certain age" can be identified by blouses. With flowers of one description or another, most likely pastel. They can be distinguished from Rednecks and WT because they don't have glitter, sequins or puffy paint on their blouses. Chances are, if you are so unlucky to be asked into an older VWF's home, there will be copies of McCalls, Redbook, Ladies Home Journal, Family Circle or one of the other totally useless publications designed to entertain people who are interested in why whats-er-name stayed married to the sportscaster after he cheated on her. Or 500 ways to bore your family stiff with ground beef. Or decorating hints. If it's National Enquirer, Nascar Today or a tabloid, that isn't a VWF you've snagged, it's either a Redneck or WT.
VWP of a VR persuasion can be identified instantly by those Xi fishes on their vehicles. I have NEVER seen anyone that isn't VW with one. Ever.***
$ As a small protest about that sort of thing, I installed a bonefish on my car. Cute little fellow but I doubt any of the folks with the Other fish have the slightest clue what it stands for. As a sidelight, my observation is that the worst drivers on the road have Xi fish on their vehicles. Honest.Another thing VWP like is a combination of golf and country clubs. The c.c. bit has a large proportion of the exclusivity thing going for it, as does golf. The two in combination are the epitome of VWP. VWP, if you get me. Not everyone who golfs is VW, nor is everyone who belongs to a country club VW. I suppose I could give my bona fides about this because most of my father's family are VWP. Outer limits VWP. It's odd to me that golf has attained some aura of exclusivity because, up to recently, it was almost as nerdy as science fairs or math contests. I golfed for years but don't anymore. Having all those VWP running about on the course is distracting. You can count on me quitting doing something when it becomes trendy.
Glossy catalogs are another thing VWP like, seemingly obsessively. Enter most any VWP home and there, in all it's glory on the coffee table, will be an L.L. Bean catalog or something similar. Eddie Bauer seems to have fallen out of favor, though, probably because the clothing is actually practical. REI isn't a big item, either. I suspect that's because most REI products have nothing to do with golf and everything to do with actual physical exercise.
Coffee table books are also a big item. The thing with those tomes is that 99% of them are totally useless. Unless you need something heavy to hold the table down in a gale. I have my doubts about VWP people with coffee table books. Do they actually read them? Having coffee table books is rather like collecting crystal animals. What do you do with the things except dust them?
VWP like uniforms. Not military-type uniforms or whatall but uniforms that allow them to tell other VWP from the Rabble. On surveying any given group of VWP, you will notice a similarity of dress. If they didn't dress alike, how could they tell they are VWP? How could other VWP recognize them? Bermuda shorts are quite popular even though most people look like total idiots in them. Cute little layered tops and shells seem to be de rigeur with VWF. Madras, short-sleeved shirts and khakis for the Male Contingent. And loafers. Any Male wearing a madras shirt and khakis who doesn't have loafers on (while not on the golf course) is an imposter. An Imposter of the First Water. Note: Any female who would, at first glance, appear to be a VWF but wearing stretch pants is a WT is disguise. (I have been notified by an informant from a notoriously VWP infestation that loafers with tassels are a good thing. Wow. Who'd a thunk?)
VWP also are obsessively attached to church. Doesn't matter at all what denomination, either. I would surmise the greatest number of church-going VWP are either Protestant or Catholic.**** I am not sure why the majority of them go, other than it is the Accepted Thing to Do. In my opinion, doing something because it's the accepted thing to do isn't a good enough reason to do it. It's impossible to tell VWP apart from anyone else by their sense of decency and honor. Church services, church volunteerism, church circles, Vacation Bible Schools, this, that and the other. And, rearing it's ugly head yet again, cooking hot dogs for Jesus. I just am having trouble getting past that one. Honest. I suppose I would attend a church if I had the slightest sense that I needed to be forgiven for something and thought that going to church would do that but I wouldn't go Just Because It's the Thing to Do. Pish tosh to that. I object strenuously to religion for the simple fact that it's too damned easy. Nothing is that easy but VWP must find some comfort in knowing that they have Done the Right Thing. Whatever that may be. When someone finds out, let me know.
More clothing and accessory thoughts... those white pants. Now, really, folks, get a grip! And monstrous, oversize purses. When I had little kids I always had a giant purse but it carried diapers and suchlike. VWP who need to carry infant equipment are likely to have a monstrously ugly diaper bag by some Yuppie designer. More often than not, the giant purses are in some unnatural print that is supposed to resemble zebra. More often than that the print doesn't resemble zebra as much as it does mangy cat fur or skunk pancake a la roadkill. Then there are the vinyl ones. The shiny, slickery vinyl ones. All I can say about that is, mercy. (If you see a seemingly VWF in public who has lamé, gold or otherwise, anywhere about her person, it's another WT. That applies to animal prints anywhere other than a purse.)
At the extreme far end of the spectrum from the purse-thing would be VWF's fondness for fanny packs. Not usually seen on Young VWP, though. Mostly Older VWP. (Folks, you know, with asses that size you shouldn't be drawing attention to them.) I suppose that those packs are handy for carrying incidentals and what not and phones? I have one but don't wear the thing, it's slung over my shoulder. I did wear it one day and a creeping feeling of dorkiness began overtaking my consciousness to the extent that I actually attended a tasting at a VWP artisanal winery. If you know me, that's pretty bad. After regaining my senses, I was embarrassed.
VWP are obsessed with the appearance of youth. How many people other than VWP do you know that have injected a deadly neuromuscular poison into various parts of their anatomy to rid themselves of wrinkles. Hm? How many? Yes, chilluns, we's speakin' of Botox. God save the Queen but that's just stooopud. VWF and VWM seem to think it's a good idea, though. They're nuts. Cosmetic plastic surgery come to mind, as well. Folks, you weren't swans in the first place, get over it. Giving yourself stiff faces and/or overinflated lips is way off the scale as far as sensible behavior is concerned.
There is also the matter of VWP's kids. Can anyone explain to me why they all look alike? They wear the same clothes and have the same dazed expressions, when they aren't being rotten brats, that is. Maybe it's the Ritalin? Or the sheer boredom of life as a VWP? I suppose this is a manifestation of the exclusivity thing or uniforms? VWP tend to buy their children weird stuff, too. Who in their right mind will get a 16 year old male a brand new Jaguar? Honestly! Who would? Well, who but a VWP with a lot of cash to throw around.
Something that balances on the line between VWP and Redneck is gospel music. Particularly country gospel music. This is kind of a swing vote. All I can say is, in my opinion, it all sounds just alike to me. It also gives me the creeps.***** eeeewwwwwwww. I'll take Handel, Bach or Beethoven, if I'm going to listen to religious music it's gonna have some actual merit as music. For a VWP, this probably would go along with church attendance. For rednecks, who knows? Maybe they like country music of any kind. Voting is now open. What do you think?
Another VWP tendency is really, really awful food. I don't know what the deal is but you can tell at a potluck or an open house or party which piece of uck the VWP brought. After some consideration, this may have a lot to do with making recipes from places like Redbook and so forth. A year or so back, I was invited to bring hors d'oeuvres to an open house honoring a new business in town. Not a problem although I will admit to stressing a bit about the whole exercise. I strolled in with my Thai bites and dipping sauce, crab-stuffed mushroom, roasted red pepper stuffed mushrooms and a couple of other things I don't currently remember and was confronted with a table overflowing with unidentifiable "foodstuffs." Seriously. I am not, to this very day, sure what those weird, pasty white rolls with some sort of meat-like filling were. Did the cook forget to bake them? Were they supposed to be that color? (If I did something like that, friends all over the globe, dynamite cooks and professional chefs alike, would know instantly without being told. Then I'd catch hell, for sure.) Now, honestly? You don't have to really be "into" cooking to present tasty food. All it takes is some intelligent thought. Green gelatin molds with sliced olives which strongly resemble boiled eyeballs is not intelligent. Those nachos were moderately intelligent. The VWF who brought them at least gave it the old college try. She may have been banned from the Sisterhood, though, for that breach in etiquette. I hope to be spared grilling parties hosted by VWP. I don't for the life of me understand why every piece of meat coming off the grill must be done to the point of whang-leather. Maybe it's all that horrible food-borne disease they're worrying about? (Nobody lives forever, people, get over it.) Personally, I have a hard time getting very enthusiastic about potato salad with sweet hot dog relish in it. Save the relish for the Church Hot Dog Festival and leave the tater salad alone.
As long as I'm thinking about food-borne illnesses... VWP, not withstanding the token not-white-VWF on commercials, have a fixation on various disease-causing bugs. Salmonella from raw chicken. Viruses on door handles. Microscopic vermin infesting your w.c. If you don't get sick from all those pathogens you can be sure you're getting sick from the chemicals you're spraying around.
Air fresheners of one sort or another are a popular item, too. God knows what VWP's homes smell like without the wafting odor of various chemicals that don't smell anything like cherries or roses or whatall.
Something that VWF seems to like is home parties of one sort or another. Home decorating or cooking or something... I am unclear whether this is a high-level Redneck thing or a lower-level VWP thing. I have been foolish enough to attend one or more of those things and I can attest, from a non-VWF standpoint, that the stuff offered is just hideous. Hideous in an eye-blasting, consciousness-wresting way. I, for one, have a really tough time becoming enthused about spending money on matching plastic sconce-things. Another alternative would be prints of charming old-timey scenes. Or flowers. Or butterflies. Or wide-eyed tykes, who look a lot like the VWP's overmedicated charming tots. Having never been invited to a Pampered Chef party, I can't say anything about that but a Longaberger party isn't too bad. As long as you can get past the stupid, cutesy things that seem to be gaining in popularity. My contention is that anyone who hasn't got enough sense to refrain from putting that trash up on public display should not be allowed out in public. They are likely to be a hazard to themselves and others. One type of home party no self-respecting VWF would attend for love nor money would be one of those sex-toy parties.****** The poor creatures stammer and stutter at admitting to attendance at a lingerie party let alone one where there are, *gasp*, sex toys right out there for God and the world to see. I've been to couple of those and they're one hell of a lot of fun. Am I embarrassed? Nope. Wasn't embarrassed to go, either. But then, I'm not a VWF.
* If you don't know what that is, you haven't been following along.
** Strangely enough, the mores and social expectations of Their Group are very reminiscent of high school.
*** You, gentle reader, may have. I haven't. Honest.
$ If you like the pirate fish, you can get one here: Ring of Fire They're really nice people and took my suggestion about putting bonefish on flags. Cool.
**** Pardon me for saying this, really, but I strongly suspect that the protty/cath thing has to do with cluelessness and Manifest Destiny. I don't see a whole lot of Jews, for instance, of any persuasion going through life as VWP.
***** My new doctor has an excessively perky receptionist who, in and of herself, is hideously annoying. What takes the cake is that she plays country gospel cd's in the waiting room of the office. If I wanted to listen to that dreck and see someone grinning like a nutjob, I'd go to church. Preferably one in an asylum.
****** I had a good friend who was an agent for the Passion Party franchise. She was telling me about inviting the Nice VWF from town who owned the flower shop. It struck the agent as odd that the Nice VWF blanched when invited to a sex toy party. In truth, she was a Very Nice VWF but, still... perhaps she thought that my friend was attempting a clumsy conversion to some type of sexual perversion? I don't know but she missed a really good party.
FYI
Figured, as long as I'm being snarky, that it wouldn't hurt to put up a photo of the oak tree that was damaged (an understatement) in the fire a while back.
That tree is somewhere between 60 and 80 feet high and, up to the time the dweebs played Nero, it was beautifully full and green. Can't see it from this angle, but the whole northeastern side is totally bare.
I feel quite sorry for it. It looks so pitiful.
Hope it survives the winter...
This isn't a good idea,
no matter what you think, Mr. Alpha Male.
Putting a chain saw, even the small electric one, in the hands of two 17 year old morons* is NOT a good idea.
I about passed out when I went out to check how they were doing and SS was holding up a branch about 8 inches in diameter and cutting another smaller branch off of it with one hand.
Come back in house.
Take deep breath.
Go back out and inform them they need to use the same safety precautions with the little saw that they would with the big gas one.
Letting a potentially deadly item like a chain saw be operated by two adolescent males who haven't shown a lick of common sense or foresight is like giving them a quarter and telling them to go play marbles on the interstate.
Mercy.
* ETA Yes, gentle reader, the same two who caused a massive conflagration a couple of weekends back.
Putting a chain saw, even the small electric one, in the hands of two 17 year old morons* is NOT a good idea.
I about passed out when I went out to check how they were doing and SS was holding up a branch about 8 inches in diameter and cutting another smaller branch off of it with one hand.
Come back in house.
Take deep breath.
Go back out and inform them they need to use the same safety precautions with the little saw that they would with the big gas one.
Letting a potentially deadly item like a chain saw be operated by two adolescent males who haven't shown a lick of common sense or foresight is like giving them a quarter and telling them to go play marbles on the interstate.
Mercy.
* ETA Yes, gentle reader, the same two who caused a massive conflagration a couple of weekends back.
Woo*
My woo has been ingested for the day. 3 glucosamine, 4 cranberry, 1 mag/pot., 2 adrenal support, 2 sinus hoodads, 1 dot progesterone cream. Putting off taking the zinc because it makes me violently ill...
Then, of course, "accepted" therapy. HP med and a diuretic.
I was informed that my entirely subjective experience with supplements and so forth is totally invalid. Moreover, I don't have the scientific background to make any judgments about how I actually feel.
Well, Mr. Snottyface Medicine Man, I'd rather go doctor with my vet than you. He listens. You are so full of yourself and your "science"** that you can't see the forest for the trees.
If your "science" had a way of healing that chronic sinusitis that didn't make the situation worse I would have been glad to put myself under your tender ministrations.
If your "science" has thought of merely putting a small lift under my right heel instead of telling me that there is no help for scoliosis I would be more likely to listen to your snarling.
If your "science" had taken the whole picture into account, low thyroid, low potassium, low sodium, low progesterone, menopause and etc., someone would have realized that a diuretic isn't going to make any difference.***
I feel immensely better than I did a month ago. You dismiss that because my experience is subjective. Well, hell yes, it's subjective. It's my body and I live in it, for cryin' out loud. Don't you suppose, even in your wildest imaginings, that I KNOW how I feel?
Your "objectivity" has been colored by too many years of listening to Big Pharma. Too many years sitting in your doctor's lounge, laughing at patients. Too many years spent treating nurses like dog shit.**** Too many years with your head stuck so far up your ass that you don't know day from night.
Medicine is in a sad state.
* A word used by a surgeon of my acquaintance to describe anything that isn't "normal modern medicine." This includes vitamins, herbal supplements or any supplements, chiropractors, massage therapy... you get my drift.
** Odd, that. Not only inexact "science" but a patchwork of cover-ups and half remedies.
*** My fluid problem is not fluid circulating in my bloodstream. It's fluid that accumulates inside cells. That's why I get dehydrated so easily if I don't take the mineral supplements. Don't you read the literature? The biggest idiots are always the ones with the most eddykashun.
**** If it wasn't for those nurses, doctors would be a total waste of time. Too bad they don't know that.
Then, of course, "accepted" therapy. HP med and a diuretic.
I was informed that my entirely subjective experience with supplements and so forth is totally invalid. Moreover, I don't have the scientific background to make any judgments about how I actually feel.
Well, Mr. Snottyface Medicine Man, I'd rather go doctor with my vet than you. He listens. You are so full of yourself and your "science"** that you can't see the forest for the trees.
If your "science" had a way of healing that chronic sinusitis that didn't make the situation worse I would have been glad to put myself under your tender ministrations.
If your "science" has thought of merely putting a small lift under my right heel instead of telling me that there is no help for scoliosis I would be more likely to listen to your snarling.
If your "science" had taken the whole picture into account, low thyroid, low potassium, low sodium, low progesterone, menopause and etc., someone would have realized that a diuretic isn't going to make any difference.***
I feel immensely better than I did a month ago. You dismiss that because my experience is subjective. Well, hell yes, it's subjective. It's my body and I live in it, for cryin' out loud. Don't you suppose, even in your wildest imaginings, that I KNOW how I feel?
Your "objectivity" has been colored by too many years of listening to Big Pharma. Too many years sitting in your doctor's lounge, laughing at patients. Too many years spent treating nurses like dog shit.**** Too many years with your head stuck so far up your ass that you don't know day from night.
Medicine is in a sad state.
* A word used by a surgeon of my acquaintance to describe anything that isn't "normal modern medicine." This includes vitamins, herbal supplements or any supplements, chiropractors, massage therapy... you get my drift.
** Odd, that. Not only inexact "science" but a patchwork of cover-ups and half remedies.
*** My fluid problem is not fluid circulating in my bloodstream. It's fluid that accumulates inside cells. That's why I get dehydrated so easily if I don't take the mineral supplements. Don't you read the literature? The biggest idiots are always the ones with the most eddykashun.
**** If it wasn't for those nurses, doctors would be a total waste of time. Too bad they don't know that.
uh, spook
Fugly fugly fugly
If I found myself kidnapped by this creature, well, I can't begin to think of anything adequate enough to describe the horror.
If I found myself kidnapped by this creature, well, I can't begin to think of anything adequate enough to describe the horror.
Valet parking coming to a hospital near you!
The regional dice-and-slice joint is now offering valet parking for patients.
How very nice of them. Since they won't build a parking ramp and most patients end up parking about a mile away, this is a heartwarming motion.
Thinking back, it would have been nice when I had to take my Dad in. I'd drop him off at the door, find him somewhere to sit, go back to the car, drive around for 15 minutes looking for a parking spot, then walk back into the hospital and wheel him wherever he had to go.*
Himself picked me up after my surgery in 2001, too. If I recall, getting me out of the doors and into the car was quite an undertaking. The rules state that you aren't allowed to leave the place on your own two feet. A wheelchair is required. OK, fine, but keep the hordes of people out of the way so we can at least GET to the car? I wasn't feeling all that great and having to weave in and out of old folks, chatting nurses and various other forms of life was just exhausting.
It should be mentioned that this same dice-and-slice just laid off a whole buttload of people.
I'm also curious as to how many of those valets there will actually be? 2?
* All this and we had a handicapped permit. There were never any spots in the 20 car special lot, though. It was filled up with large women in ratty old Buicks and a few elderly folks.
How very nice of them. Since they won't build a parking ramp and most patients end up parking about a mile away, this is a heartwarming motion.
Thinking back, it would have been nice when I had to take my Dad in. I'd drop him off at the door, find him somewhere to sit, go back to the car, drive around for 15 minutes looking for a parking spot, then walk back into the hospital and wheel him wherever he had to go.*
Himself picked me up after my surgery in 2001, too. If I recall, getting me out of the doors and into the car was quite an undertaking. The rules state that you aren't allowed to leave the place on your own two feet. A wheelchair is required. OK, fine, but keep the hordes of people out of the way so we can at least GET to the car? I wasn't feeling all that great and having to weave in and out of old folks, chatting nurses and various other forms of life was just exhausting.
It should be mentioned that this same dice-and-slice just laid off a whole buttload of people.
I'm also curious as to how many of those valets there will actually be? 2?
* All this and we had a handicapped permit. There were never any spots in the 20 car special lot, though. It was filled up with large women in ratty old Buicks and a few elderly folks.
Wednesday, July 2, 2008
good heavens
These people need something better to do with their time:
Shrooms
The participant who is quoted sounds like a loony-bin candidate.
Shrooms make me ill.
Shrooms
The participant who is quoted sounds like a loony-bin candidate.
Shrooms make me ill.
Note to self:
Remember that accompanying Himself uptown for a beer on a Tuesday evening is a mistake.
The "usual" crowd who, although not socially acceptable are rather interesting in bizarre ways, are replaced by pseudo-people. You know, the "just off the golf course" stool loungers.*
The overdressed and over-madeup wannabe yuppie females in the cute pink tees and khaki bahamas and eye shades.
The Successful Male Siding Salesmen who are married to the wannabe yuppies. They always look to me as if they're Wannabe Males.
Those of us who just wanted a beer and some conversation find ourselves moving further and further into the corner, all the while keeping backs against the wall in case of a Yuppie Explosion.
There was so much joviality, back-slapping, guffawing and polite tittering (by the male wannabes) that a feeling of imminent doom came over me.
What if the floor collapsed under the weight of huge egos?
What if the whole lot succumbed to shipping fever or some rare tropical malady and stampeded wildly around the premises?
What if one of them decided to actually speak to us?
I will admit I look at those people with a jaundiced eye. I've known the whole bunch my whole life (ugh ugh ugh.) They married people from their classes, hang out with the same people they hung out with in grade school, eat the same foods, tell stupid jokes, are totally clueless about what's going on in the Big World outside this little burg.
What is really scary is they could not possibly care less. They really and truly do not care. How boring.
We gotta get out of this place.
* They're just frightfully White.
The "usual" crowd who, although not socially acceptable are rather interesting in bizarre ways, are replaced by pseudo-people. You know, the "just off the golf course" stool loungers.*
The overdressed and over-madeup wannabe yuppie females in the cute pink tees and khaki bahamas and eye shades.
The Successful Male Siding Salesmen who are married to the wannabe yuppies. They always look to me as if they're Wannabe Males.
Those of us who just wanted a beer and some conversation find ourselves moving further and further into the corner, all the while keeping backs against the wall in case of a Yuppie Explosion.
There was so much joviality, back-slapping, guffawing and polite tittering (by the male wannabes) that a feeling of imminent doom came over me.
What if the floor collapsed under the weight of huge egos?
What if the whole lot succumbed to shipping fever or some rare tropical malady and stampeded wildly around the premises?
What if one of them decided to actually speak to us?
I will admit I look at those people with a jaundiced eye. I've known the whole bunch my whole life (ugh ugh ugh.) They married people from their classes, hang out with the same people they hung out with in grade school, eat the same foods, tell stupid jokes, are totally clueless about what's going on in the Big World outside this little burg.
What is really scary is they could not possibly care less. They really and truly do not care. How boring.
We gotta get out of this place.
* They're just frightfully White.
Tuesday, July 1, 2008
Fun things to do in Iowa in July
1. Sweat.
2. Water things.
3. Sweat while watering.
4. Weed things.
5. Sweat while weeding.
6. Apply sunblock.
7. Sweat.
8. Reapply sunblock.
9. Sweat.
10. Reapply deodorant.
11. Burn butt on hot car seat.
12. Swear.
13. Sweat.
14. Burn bare feet on asphalt.
15. Prance around on tiptoes to get off asphalt.
16. Wave at car stopped in street, occupants staring.
17. Shut garage door.
18. Go boating.
19. Apply sunblock.
20. Sweat.
21. Swear while applying more sunblock.
22. Pick up metal watering can.
23. Burn hand.
24. Swear.
25. Play Mad Scientist with rabbit repellant.
26. Fry eggs on Trex decking.
27. Apply Gold Bond powder everywhere on one's person.
28. Remove prosthesis.
29. Sweat.
30. Change clothes.
31. Woos out totally and turn on both the central air and the window air.
32. Wear blue and white seersucker shirts and army-green capris.
33. Demonstrate total dorkage.
34. Watch turtles sun themselves on riverbank.
35. Try to remember how to clean a turtle. Just in case.
36. Be glad you don't live in Phoenix.
37. Overheat and pass out.
We really have a lot of fun in July. Gets to be even more fun in August.
2. Water things.
3. Sweat while watering.
4. Weed things.
5. Sweat while weeding.
6. Apply sunblock.
7. Sweat.
8. Reapply sunblock.
9. Sweat.
10. Reapply deodorant.
11. Burn butt on hot car seat.
12. Swear.
13. Sweat.
14. Burn bare feet on asphalt.
15. Prance around on tiptoes to get off asphalt.
16. Wave at car stopped in street, occupants staring.
17. Shut garage door.
18. Go boating.
19. Apply sunblock.
20. Sweat.
21. Swear while applying more sunblock.
22. Pick up metal watering can.
23. Burn hand.
24. Swear.
25. Play Mad Scientist with rabbit repellant.
26. Fry eggs on Trex decking.
27. Apply Gold Bond powder everywhere on one's person.
28. Remove prosthesis.
29. Sweat.
30. Change clothes.
31. Woos out totally and turn on both the central air and the window air.
32. Wear blue and white seersucker shirts and army-green capris.
33. Demonstrate total dorkage.
34. Watch turtles sun themselves on riverbank.
35. Try to remember how to clean a turtle. Just in case.
36. Be glad you don't live in Phoenix.
37. Overheat and pass out.
We really have a lot of fun in July. Gets to be even more fun in August.
Monday, June 30, 2008
A VERY good day
I am very happy to report that this has been a very good day!
1. Himself is at work! woowoowoowoo
2. The Thundering Herd has willingly done what they were told, when they were told and did it right THE VERY FIRST TIME!*
3. I have been getting around very well with no pain. I even managed to go down the stairs in a normal fashion for the first time since last October.**
4. It hasn't been cold and rainy nor way too hot nor windy nor anything at all like that.
5. The dog didn't make even one hideous, smelly, disgusting mess.
6. Got no calls with bad news, no unexpected bills, no unwelcome visitors.
7. Had confirmed that I have absolutely the best daughter-in-law in history.***
Yes, it's been a very good day. Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh.
*Miracles do happen. Keep that in mind!
**Slowly but like a normal person!
***I kind of thought that already but know for sure now. This one should be probably number 2, don't you think?
1. Himself is at work! woowoowoowoo
2. The Thundering Herd has willingly done what they were told, when they were told and did it right THE VERY FIRST TIME!*
3. I have been getting around very well with no pain. I even managed to go down the stairs in a normal fashion for the first time since last October.**
4. It hasn't been cold and rainy nor way too hot nor windy nor anything at all like that.
5. The dog didn't make even one hideous, smelly, disgusting mess.
6. Got no calls with bad news, no unexpected bills, no unwelcome visitors.
7. Had confirmed that I have absolutely the best daughter-in-law in history.***
Yes, it's been a very good day. Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh.
*Miracles do happen. Keep that in mind!
**Slowly but like a normal person!
***I kind of thought that already but know for sure now. This one should be probably number 2, don't you think?
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