Everyone loves a good conspiracy theory.
I love the theory that the whole moon landing was staged, and that we only pretended to go to the moon so that we would look smarter than the Russians.
Conspiracy theories are just fun in general, that's why I have decided to make up one of my very own.
I hope that if anyone actually reads this that they will not be offended, most especially considering the fact this just a fun little conspiracy theory that I made up myself.
It goes like this:
The Canadians would like to take the over United States of America.
Now, Canadians are civilized, clean living, and intelligent.
They are not terrorists. They do not have camps set up in order to train terrorist and other horrible things.
Oh no. Not the Canadians.
Instead, the Canadians have camps to train politicians. Young upstart Canadian lawyers join up with these camps in order to learn how to take the USA down.
Since this Canadian takeover is a relatively new endeavor, the Canadians started with the great state of Michigan because it is so close to Canada.
They groomed several young people, and then sent them off to try to become governor of Michigan. It worked!
With the help of thousands of Canadians, disguised as Michigan residents, the Canadian governor Jennifer Granholm was elected to lead our state.
Now, please, this is JUST a conspiracy theory, one I made up myself, so don't become offended when I tell you that one of the Canadian goals was to close all the auto factories here because they were tired of the pollution that has been billowing out of those factories and polluting their country for years.
After the factories closed, the residents of Michigan began their great migration, with thousands of people forced to move out of the state in search of new work; which was, of course, exactly what the Canadian government had hoped would happen.
Slowly, the people are moving out, and soon, the state will be completely evacuated.
This is step two, of the great Canadian take over.
Step three is the total closing down of the State of Michigan.
I don't really know why no one but me has pointed out the fact that a Canadian person wants to shut down the State of Michigan and no eyebrows have been raised in suspicion.
Clearly, the State of Michigan shutdown was all part of a master plan, devised by the Canadians.
After everyone has moved out of Michigan, and the state has shut down completely, there will be nothing left for our governor to do but to gift the great state of Michigan to Canada.
Soon, according to this theory, the next governor of Ohio will also be a Canadian. Following in the footsteps of the Michigan governor, Ohio will soon be evacuated and then shut down as well.
State after state will follow suit and the great Canadian takeover will be well underway.
The Canadians are a brilliant people. Their plan is a non hostile takeover of this country.
Soon, their empire will spread to include all of North America.
Eventually, we will be backed into a corner, and we will have to surrender, or else continue to flee southward.
You might as well just give up now, throw in the towel, and swear your allegiance to our neighbors of the north.
That's what I'm gonna do. I'm even practicing the Canadian National Anthem.
It goes like this. I think everyone should start memorizing it:
O Canada! Our home and native land!
True patriot love in all thy sons command.
With glowing hearts we see thee rise,
The True North strong and free!
From far and wide,
O Canada, we stand on guard for thee.
God keep our land glorious and free!
O Canada, we stand on guard for thee.
O Canada, we stand on guard for thee.
Thursday, April 3, 2008
Deep Thoughts
You know, I really like Jack Handy. I wonder if my deep thoughts could ever be as good as his? Here is my attempt:
I wonder why very religious people are so down on birth control. I mean, if you
believe in immaculate conception, doesn't it stand to reason that mother Mary would have gotten pregnant even if she was on the pill?
I know if you go blind that you can get a seeing eye dog. But can you get a seeing eye parrot? I think a Seeing Eye parrot would be better than a seeing eye dog because then it could talk to you. Instead of the dog just pulling you around, the parrot could scream stuff like, "Watch out for that bus!"
I wonder if you failed an IQ test, but you also had an exhaust leak in your car, would the people who gave you the exam adjust your score to compensate for the points you lost due to the inhalation of the exhaust fumes?
If 2% milk is really just 98% water, I wonder why people don't just mix their own 2% milk. If you got a jug of spring water, and jug of whole milk, I'll bet you could mix lots of gallons of 2% milk yourself and then sell them to your friends.
Have you ever talked to someone who claims they were lost, but they are telling you about it while they are at home? To those kinds of people I always say, "How could you be lost? You're standing right here."
You know, a good joke you could tell your mother would be to say, "When they were handing out moms, I thought they said 'bombs' so I asked for a dud." I think that would be a funny thing to put on a cup to give to your mom for mother's day.
I wonder why very religious people are so down on birth control. I mean, if you
believe in immaculate conception, doesn't it stand to reason that mother Mary would have gotten pregnant even if she was on the pill?
I know if you go blind that you can get a seeing eye dog. But can you get a seeing eye parrot? I think a Seeing Eye parrot would be better than a seeing eye dog because then it could talk to you. Instead of the dog just pulling you around, the parrot could scream stuff like, "Watch out for that bus!"
I wonder if you failed an IQ test, but you also had an exhaust leak in your car, would the people who gave you the exam adjust your score to compensate for the points you lost due to the inhalation of the exhaust fumes?
If 2% milk is really just 98% water, I wonder why people don't just mix their own 2% milk. If you got a jug of spring water, and jug of whole milk, I'll bet you could mix lots of gallons of 2% milk yourself and then sell them to your friends.
Have you ever talked to someone who claims they were lost, but they are telling you about it while they are at home? To those kinds of people I always say, "How could you be lost? You're standing right here."
You know, a good joke you could tell your mother would be to say, "When they were handing out moms, I thought they said 'bombs' so I asked for a dud." I think that would be a funny thing to put on a cup to give to your mom for mother's day.
Wednesday, April 2, 2008
Selling your teeth
I was watching a special on the history channel about how these scientists and historians were trying to find out what George Washington looked like at the age of 25.
The whole endeavor seemed pointless and stupid to me.
At first, all I could think of was that I just hoped they didn't get a government grant in order to pursue their research.
Every time I see people getting grants for stupid research, I just start to thinking about how bad the Michigan economy is, and of how we should recall our governor, and then declare this place a state of emergency.
We need the government's help to save our state, and the government should not be wasting the precious funds that Michigan needs in order to figure out stupid shit, like what George Washington looked like at the age of 25.
Anyway, I was watching the show and getting kinda pissed, but I still learned a fact so graphic and horrific, I almost vomited into my own hand.
While they were talking about how George Washington would look different with teeth, and altering his face with a computer program, the researchers mentioned that dentures were made with real human teeth, back in Washington's day.
In fact, they would pay a person quit a bit for a tooth. Not a whole lot, but enough to get you through a cold winter.
Now, I know a lot of broke people. And when I heard the tooth thing, I just had this image flash before my eyes of a person I know with a pair of pliers, pulling out their own teeth.
I almost barfed.
Oh man, it would be horrible if they were still paying for teeth.
And I'll bet people used to pry teeth out of the mouths of dead bodies and sell the teeth. And people would hold you down, I'll bet, and rip out your teeth.
I'm making myself sick over here.
I'm just so glad that nobody who I know personally has ever taken a pair of pliers and pulled out their teeth so that they can sell them.
I mean, I know someone who sells her own plasma.
I know someone else who would love to sell one of her eggs, and anther person who is trying to figure out how to sell a testicle.
But thank God they're not jerking out their own teeth.
Oh, it was the grosses thing that ever flashed before my eyes.
The past is definitely a place that I am glad I'm not living in.
Long live the dentist! And dentures made of synthetic materials.
The whole endeavor seemed pointless and stupid to me.
At first, all I could think of was that I just hoped they didn't get a government grant in order to pursue their research.
Every time I see people getting grants for stupid research, I just start to thinking about how bad the Michigan economy is, and of how we should recall our governor, and then declare this place a state of emergency.
We need the government's help to save our state, and the government should not be wasting the precious funds that Michigan needs in order to figure out stupid shit, like what George Washington looked like at the age of 25.
Anyway, I was watching the show and getting kinda pissed, but I still learned a fact so graphic and horrific, I almost vomited into my own hand.
While they were talking about how George Washington would look different with teeth, and altering his face with a computer program, the researchers mentioned that dentures were made with real human teeth, back in Washington's day.
In fact, they would pay a person quit a bit for a tooth. Not a whole lot, but enough to get you through a cold winter.
Now, I know a lot of broke people. And when I heard the tooth thing, I just had this image flash before my eyes of a person I know with a pair of pliers, pulling out their own teeth.
I almost barfed.
Oh man, it would be horrible if they were still paying for teeth.
And I'll bet people used to pry teeth out of the mouths of dead bodies and sell the teeth. And people would hold you down, I'll bet, and rip out your teeth.
I'm making myself sick over here.
I'm just so glad that nobody who I know personally has ever taken a pair of pliers and pulled out their teeth so that they can sell them.
I mean, I know someone who sells her own plasma.
I know someone else who would love to sell one of her eggs, and anther person who is trying to figure out how to sell a testicle.
But thank God they're not jerking out their own teeth.
Oh, it was the grosses thing that ever flashed before my eyes.
The past is definitely a place that I am glad I'm not living in.
Long live the dentist! And dentures made of synthetic materials.
Friday, March 28, 2008
Why I’m Crazy
I know I'm not sane, but I try not to let it get me down.
I guess it's just one of those things that I have come to accept over the years.
Usually, I try not to talk too much in public, or around strangers, for fear of saying the wrong thing and coming across as 'odd'.
That's one of the reasons why I don't drink.
Last time I got REALLY drunk, I cornered some guy at a party and gave him a long lecture about his subconscious mind, and how he needed to think positive thoughts.
I kept telling him that he was beautiful, and that he just needed to love himself.
He told me that I was the nicest drunk girl he'd ever met.
Unfortunately, he also thought I was after him, when really I was just trying to give him some therapy.
Still to this day, every time I see him he gets this big grin, like, 'Yeah, drunk girl thinks I'm cute.'
Actually, drunk girl thinks you need better self esteem, thank you.
I've made myself look pretty stupid while I was drunk, and that's the truth.
I also have a slight fear of returning to see my dentist, since I made myself look pretty stupid there too, while I was high on nitrous oxide.
They just sent me a post card to tell me that I am now due for a tooth cleaning.
But I don't know if I want to go back there after what happened last time.
One of my old fillings had popped out and so I had made an emergency appointment to see the dentist.
When I got there, they were already slightly disgusted with me because I had exaggerated the condition of my tooth in order to get an emergency appointment.
I told the receptionist that I was pretty sure there was no tooth left, and that it was oozing green stuff.
In all actuality, all I had was a little hole in the side of my tooth, so the dental hygienist didn't seem to think I was as bad off as I thought I was.
I still needed a filling, but I panicked really badly when the dentist tried to give me the shot of novican that he seemed to think I needed for my tooth.
I told the dentist that instead of giving me a shot, I'd much rather just go it with no pain killer, or maybe I'd accept a little nitrous oxide.
The dentist told me that that was the 'man's way' of getting your teeth filled.
I told him that I didn't care about that, but there was no way I was getting a shot because shots hurt too bad.
So he gave me nitrous oxide. And I don't know what happened to me, but I had just finished reading, 'The Tao of Physics' so I felt inclined to ask the dentist questions about the nature of personal reality.
I asked him stuff like, "If everything was really is energy, where does the gas mask end, and my face began?"
The dentist said he didn't know.
Then, since I was high I think, I asked him if he ever thought about what thoughts were.
"Are thoughts energy?" I asked, "And if so, if they are, they must add to the collective energy of the world. Don't you think? And if so, clearly, thoughts help to shape your personal reality."
I was so high; it was like I was drunk.
The dentist asked me if I would be ok to drive home.
I told him I thought I would be, but that the nitrous oxide incident would remind me always of why I shouldn't drink.
I'm too weird sober. I don't need to drink. I just get really strange.
I guess it's just one of those things that I have come to accept over the years.
Usually, I try not to talk too much in public, or around strangers, for fear of saying the wrong thing and coming across as 'odd'.
That's one of the reasons why I don't drink.
Last time I got REALLY drunk, I cornered some guy at a party and gave him a long lecture about his subconscious mind, and how he needed to think positive thoughts.
I kept telling him that he was beautiful, and that he just needed to love himself.
He told me that I was the nicest drunk girl he'd ever met.
Unfortunately, he also thought I was after him, when really I was just trying to give him some therapy.
Still to this day, every time I see him he gets this big grin, like, 'Yeah, drunk girl thinks I'm cute.'
Actually, drunk girl thinks you need better self esteem, thank you.
I've made myself look pretty stupid while I was drunk, and that's the truth.
I also have a slight fear of returning to see my dentist, since I made myself look pretty stupid there too, while I was high on nitrous oxide.
They just sent me a post card to tell me that I am now due for a tooth cleaning.
But I don't know if I want to go back there after what happened last time.
One of my old fillings had popped out and so I had made an emergency appointment to see the dentist.
When I got there, they were already slightly disgusted with me because I had exaggerated the condition of my tooth in order to get an emergency appointment.
I told the receptionist that I was pretty sure there was no tooth left, and that it was oozing green stuff.
In all actuality, all I had was a little hole in the side of my tooth, so the dental hygienist didn't seem to think I was as bad off as I thought I was.
I still needed a filling, but I panicked really badly when the dentist tried to give me the shot of novican that he seemed to think I needed for my tooth.
I told the dentist that instead of giving me a shot, I'd much rather just go it with no pain killer, or maybe I'd accept a little nitrous oxide.
The dentist told me that that was the 'man's way' of getting your teeth filled.
I told him that I didn't care about that, but there was no way I was getting a shot because shots hurt too bad.
So he gave me nitrous oxide. And I don't know what happened to me, but I had just finished reading, 'The Tao of Physics' so I felt inclined to ask the dentist questions about the nature of personal reality.
I asked him stuff like, "If everything was really is energy, where does the gas mask end, and my face began?"
The dentist said he didn't know.
Then, since I was high I think, I asked him if he ever thought about what thoughts were.
"Are thoughts energy?" I asked, "And if so, if they are, they must add to the collective energy of the world. Don't you think? And if so, clearly, thoughts help to shape your personal reality."
I was so high; it was like I was drunk.
The dentist asked me if I would be ok to drive home.
I told him I thought I would be, but that the nitrous oxide incident would remind me always of why I shouldn't drink.
I'm too weird sober. I don't need to drink. I just get really strange.
Thursday, March 27, 2008
I Don’t like The Randomness of Life
Well, I just watched the most disturbing episode of 'Forensics Files' ever.
This guy named Bob got married to this evil woman whose name I can't remember.
After they had been married for two months, Bob made his new wife the sole beneficiary of his life insurance policy in the event of his death.
The very next day, his wife began adding rat poison to Bob's tea.
The hair analysis that the scientists did on poor Bob's hair indicated that he had been slowly poisoned for over a year before he was finally made so ill that he had to go to the hospital.
There, in the hospital, his wife came to visit him, and while she stayed in his room, she added a large amount of rat poison to his soda, in order to finish him off.
Then, when they pulled the plug on Bob, his wife insisted on staying in the room in order to watch him die.
The most disturbing part of the whole show was the fact that this woman decided to kill her husband so soon.
She didn't even wait to see if she liked him, she just cut right to the chase and killed him at the very beginning.
I think two months is still the 'honeymoon' stage of being married, too.
The whole time, I just kept thinking to myself, "Why did this have to happen to Bob? Was it just bad luck? Or was there a point?"
Do you think there was a higher purpose, or a greater plan, that God had for Bob regarding the rat poisoning death? Or do you think it was just totally random and Bob just married the wrong person?
It's very frightening to think that Bob was just in the wrong place at the wrong time when he met his wife.
After I saw that disturbing show, I then watched another one where these people were trying to hire a hit man to kill their son.
Unfortunately, these people did not contact a real hit man, but rather, an undercover police officer.
Once again, I was reminded of the randomness of life.
How is it that some people can contact a real hit man, and then other people accidentally contact the police when they want to put the hit on someone?
Is life just totally random?
Is there a point to anything?
And is it safe for anyone to take a life insurance policy out on themselves?
I'm not just talking about married people, if you're married then a life insurance policy is obviously some sort of a death sentence, so I would never get one.
But is it safe to take a life insurance policy out on yourself at all?
I am beginning to think that you should never trust anyone with large sums of money in the event of your death.
I think when it comes to life insurance, anything more than what is needed to cover funeral costs is a really bad idea.
Life insurance really isn't the point though; it's the creepy randomness of life that is the real issue.
If you knew who the real hit man was, or if your wife would feed you poison, then you'd make better life choices.
You wouldn't take risks that would never work out for you if you knew how to make safe decisions.
If you knew, 100%, that if you married Betty or Sarah, or Dave, or Joe, that they wouldn't kill you at a later time, then it would be safer to get married.
If you knew where to go in order to find real help, real services, and real advice—and not just con artists and the cops, this world would be a much better place.
This guy named Bob got married to this evil woman whose name I can't remember.
After they had been married for two months, Bob made his new wife the sole beneficiary of his life insurance policy in the event of his death.
The very next day, his wife began adding rat poison to Bob's tea.
The hair analysis that the scientists did on poor Bob's hair indicated that he had been slowly poisoned for over a year before he was finally made so ill that he had to go to the hospital.
There, in the hospital, his wife came to visit him, and while she stayed in his room, she added a large amount of rat poison to his soda, in order to finish him off.
Then, when they pulled the plug on Bob, his wife insisted on staying in the room in order to watch him die.
The most disturbing part of the whole show was the fact that this woman decided to kill her husband so soon.
She didn't even wait to see if she liked him, she just cut right to the chase and killed him at the very beginning.
I think two months is still the 'honeymoon' stage of being married, too.
The whole time, I just kept thinking to myself, "Why did this have to happen to Bob? Was it just bad luck? Or was there a point?"
Do you think there was a higher purpose, or a greater plan, that God had for Bob regarding the rat poisoning death? Or do you think it was just totally random and Bob just married the wrong person?
It's very frightening to think that Bob was just in the wrong place at the wrong time when he met his wife.
After I saw that disturbing show, I then watched another one where these people were trying to hire a hit man to kill their son.
Unfortunately, these people did not contact a real hit man, but rather, an undercover police officer.
Once again, I was reminded of the randomness of life.
How is it that some people can contact a real hit man, and then other people accidentally contact the police when they want to put the hit on someone?
Is life just totally random?
Is there a point to anything?
And is it safe for anyone to take a life insurance policy out on themselves?
I'm not just talking about married people, if you're married then a life insurance policy is obviously some sort of a death sentence, so I would never get one.
But is it safe to take a life insurance policy out on yourself at all?
I am beginning to think that you should never trust anyone with large sums of money in the event of your death.
I think when it comes to life insurance, anything more than what is needed to cover funeral costs is a really bad idea.
Life insurance really isn't the point though; it's the creepy randomness of life that is the real issue.
If you knew who the real hit man was, or if your wife would feed you poison, then you'd make better life choices.
You wouldn't take risks that would never work out for you if you knew how to make safe decisions.
If you knew, 100%, that if you married Betty or Sarah, or Dave, or Joe, that they wouldn't kill you at a later time, then it would be safer to get married.
If you knew where to go in order to find real help, real services, and real advice—and not just con artists and the cops, this world would be a much better place.
What Are You talking About?
I just read in Star Magazine, page 94, that the singer Lilly Allen has been banished from the United State because she lost her passport.
What are they talking about?
We don't "banish" people from the USA.
If she really wants to come into this country, all she has to so is fly into Mexico and then walk up.
That's what I'd do if they ever tried to banish me if I was a famous foreign person.
They've even got water stands all set up in the desert for people like her.
She could walk through the desert while MTV filmed her journey.
I'll bet it would be great publicity for her tour.
Then, once she gets here, all she has to do is nip on over to that state (I can't remember which state it is now) that's giving ID's and voters' registration cards out to illegal immigrants, and get herself all signed up as a resident.
Once she can vote, then they can't kick her out. There's no possible way.
Lily Allen can become the face for all the Illegal aliens in our country.
She's rich too, so I'll bet she could afford to run ads on TV devoted to her cause.
I mean, I really just don't understand how Lily Allen could possibly have been banished.
We have illegal aliens marching for their rights, and yet, they're not going to let a famous singer come into the country to go on tour because she 'lost' her passport?
You know what I really think about this issue, don't you?
I think whoever told this Lily Allen person that she couldn't go on tour here because of her passport issues just doesn't like her singing.
And you have to admit, to have the power to refuse to allow Lily Allen into the country because you don't like her, is just awesome.
If I had the power to banish famous people, and tell them that they are 'illegal' for whatever reason I made up, I'd do it.
I'd ban Madonna, that's for sure. I think she's pretensions. She's living in England now anyway, but I'd get her if she ever came back.
If Madonna ever tried to come back here, and I was in charge, I'd just rip her social security card right up in front of her and then just be like, "Too bad. I guess you aren't a citizen here anymore."
For all you Bush haters out there, I'll bet we could plant phony evidence claiming that Bush was actually born in Canada, and then get him deported as well.
It would be fun to watch him get deported on the news.
I'll bet he'd be madder than hell.
"I'm an American. My dad was the president!"
Then we could all just be like, "That's not what it says on your birth certificate, you cannuck."
Maybe we could get rid of Britney Spears the same way?
Why doesn't anyone ever think of these things but me?
There's quite a few 'actual' foreign celebrities I think we should kick out too.
'Posh Spice' from the Spice Girls, and her husband David Bekham, the soccer player, they need to be deported.
I think we should get rid of Russell Crowe too.
Man, I wish I was' Dictator For Life' of this country, there would some major changes around here, that's for sure.
What are they talking about?
We don't "banish" people from the USA.
If she really wants to come into this country, all she has to so is fly into Mexico and then walk up.
That's what I'd do if they ever tried to banish me if I was a famous foreign person.
They've even got water stands all set up in the desert for people like her.
She could walk through the desert while MTV filmed her journey.
I'll bet it would be great publicity for her tour.
Then, once she gets here, all she has to do is nip on over to that state (I can't remember which state it is now) that's giving ID's and voters' registration cards out to illegal immigrants, and get herself all signed up as a resident.
Once she can vote, then they can't kick her out. There's no possible way.
Lily Allen can become the face for all the Illegal aliens in our country.
She's rich too, so I'll bet she could afford to run ads on TV devoted to her cause.
I mean, I really just don't understand how Lily Allen could possibly have been banished.
We have illegal aliens marching for their rights, and yet, they're not going to let a famous singer come into the country to go on tour because she 'lost' her passport?
You know what I really think about this issue, don't you?
I think whoever told this Lily Allen person that she couldn't go on tour here because of her passport issues just doesn't like her singing.
And you have to admit, to have the power to refuse to allow Lily Allen into the country because you don't like her, is just awesome.
If I had the power to banish famous people, and tell them that they are 'illegal' for whatever reason I made up, I'd do it.
I'd ban Madonna, that's for sure. I think she's pretensions. She's living in England now anyway, but I'd get her if she ever came back.
If Madonna ever tried to come back here, and I was in charge, I'd just rip her social security card right up in front of her and then just be like, "Too bad. I guess you aren't a citizen here anymore."
For all you Bush haters out there, I'll bet we could plant phony evidence claiming that Bush was actually born in Canada, and then get him deported as well.
It would be fun to watch him get deported on the news.
I'll bet he'd be madder than hell.
"I'm an American. My dad was the president!"
Then we could all just be like, "That's not what it says on your birth certificate, you cannuck."
Maybe we could get rid of Britney Spears the same way?
Why doesn't anyone ever think of these things but me?
There's quite a few 'actual' foreign celebrities I think we should kick out too.
'Posh Spice' from the Spice Girls, and her husband David Bekham, the soccer player, they need to be deported.
I think we should get rid of Russell Crowe too.
Man, I wish I was' Dictator For Life' of this country, there would some major changes around here, that's for sure.
The Saddest Movie Out there.
I just watched, 'Blow' which is the saddest movie I think I've ever seen.
In Blow, there's this drug lord, played by Johnny Depp, who just keeps getting screwed over.
First, he made a fortune selling marijuana, but then his horrible mother called the cops on him and had him sent to prison.
While in prison, this guy made friends with another convict, and they got the idea of selling the cocaine they got from Columbia in the States.
The movie is really sad because every time the main character turns around, somebody screws him over.
His fiancée dies, tragically, from cancer. That was really sad.
Then, after that, he marries this horrible Columbian woman, who just wants his money.
Then, his friend betrays him, and he gets cut out of the drug dealing loop.
And he started off looking like Johnny Depp, and quite attractive, until he was beaten by these Columbian drug lords, and then he just starts to look bad.
His nose got all twisted, and he got really fat.
That movie makes me cry every time I watch it.
There are only two movies I've ever seen that have made me cry.
One was 'Braveheart', when they killed William Wallace. And the other sad movie is 'Blow'.
I just get weepy every time I watch that damn movie.
Towards the end, this poor guy loses all the money he was keeping in a bank in Columbia, and then he gets busted by the Feds too, and has to go to prison.
When he finally gets out, he tries to make some money by doing only one more major drug business negotiation so that he can somehow get full custody of his daughter and then move way.
But instead of it working out for him, his friends just set him up and then sent him to prison for the rest of his life.
You know, I don't care if someone is a drug lord, if they are your friend, you can't screw them over like that just to save your own ass.
By the end of the movie, Johnny Depp looks like hell. All he wants, in the end, is for his daughter to visit him, but she won't do it.
You know, I'd go see my dad if he was in prison right now. Especially if all he went in for was being a drug dealer.
I'd go visit my dad no matter where he lived.
That movie just makes me so sad.
It's one of the most depressing movies out there, for sure.
In Blow, there's this drug lord, played by Johnny Depp, who just keeps getting screwed over.
First, he made a fortune selling marijuana, but then his horrible mother called the cops on him and had him sent to prison.
While in prison, this guy made friends with another convict, and they got the idea of selling the cocaine they got from Columbia in the States.
The movie is really sad because every time the main character turns around, somebody screws him over.
His fiancée dies, tragically, from cancer. That was really sad.
Then, after that, he marries this horrible Columbian woman, who just wants his money.
Then, his friend betrays him, and he gets cut out of the drug dealing loop.
And he started off looking like Johnny Depp, and quite attractive, until he was beaten by these Columbian drug lords, and then he just starts to look bad.
His nose got all twisted, and he got really fat.
That movie makes me cry every time I watch it.
There are only two movies I've ever seen that have made me cry.
One was 'Braveheart', when they killed William Wallace. And the other sad movie is 'Blow'.
I just get weepy every time I watch that damn movie.
Towards the end, this poor guy loses all the money he was keeping in a bank in Columbia, and then he gets busted by the Feds too, and has to go to prison.
When he finally gets out, he tries to make some money by doing only one more major drug business negotiation so that he can somehow get full custody of his daughter and then move way.
But instead of it working out for him, his friends just set him up and then sent him to prison for the rest of his life.
You know, I don't care if someone is a drug lord, if they are your friend, you can't screw them over like that just to save your own ass.
By the end of the movie, Johnny Depp looks like hell. All he wants, in the end, is for his daughter to visit him, but she won't do it.
You know, I'd go see my dad if he was in prison right now. Especially if all he went in for was being a drug dealer.
I'd go visit my dad no matter where he lived.
That movie just makes me so sad.
It's one of the most depressing movies out there, for sure.
Oops!
So I went to my step cousin's wedding reception, and while I was there, I made a giant error.
Not only did I accidentally knock several glass lids onto the floor (luckily they didn't break) I also forgot an important fact.
There is this lady who I know, who was married to her cousin at one time.
However, I forgot that important fact this afternoon.
So, I was sitting at the table, eating a burger and talking to this woman who seemed nice enough.
She informed me that she was the bride's great aunt.
I was like, "Well that's nice. Good for you. Blah, blah, blah, etc. . . etc."
Then, later, the lady in question and her new husband, informed me that the woman who I had been talking to is 'odd'.
She is rather off, they said.
Not nasty, but not all that nice.
Not sane, but not insane.
So I was just like, "Well, she seemed alright to me."
Then the lady in question leaned in and told me that woman was her ex husband's mother.
So I was just like, "What are you talking about? I thought she told me she was your aunt."
"She is." The lady said, and then looked away.
And I was just like, "Oh yeah, right, I forgot, your cousin is your ex. Moving right along. . . . "
I was just trying to keep who was who in check. You know, in order to determine who's the aunt, who's the grandma, and things like that.
But sometimes, it's important to remember that you can offend and make people feel mighty uncomfortable on accident doing things like that.
You have to remember the details. How people are related, and in what ways is no laughing matter sometimes.
I should keep an index card of all the things I need to remember so that I can have better manners in the future.
Not only did I accidentally knock several glass lids onto the floor (luckily they didn't break) I also forgot an important fact.
There is this lady who I know, who was married to her cousin at one time.
However, I forgot that important fact this afternoon.
So, I was sitting at the table, eating a burger and talking to this woman who seemed nice enough.
She informed me that she was the bride's great aunt.
I was like, "Well that's nice. Good for you. Blah, blah, blah, etc. . . etc."
Then, later, the lady in question and her new husband, informed me that the woman who I had been talking to is 'odd'.
She is rather off, they said.
Not nasty, but not all that nice.
Not sane, but not insane.
So I was just like, "Well, she seemed alright to me."
Then the lady in question leaned in and told me that woman was her ex husband's mother.
So I was just like, "What are you talking about? I thought she told me she was your aunt."
"She is." The lady said, and then looked away.
And I was just like, "Oh yeah, right, I forgot, your cousin is your ex. Moving right along. . . . "
I was just trying to keep who was who in check. You know, in order to determine who's the aunt, who's the grandma, and things like that.
But sometimes, it's important to remember that you can offend and make people feel mighty uncomfortable on accident doing things like that.
You have to remember the details. How people are related, and in what ways is no laughing matter sometimes.
I should keep an index card of all the things I need to remember so that I can have better manners in the future.
Your diaper is not a pocket
Nikki came over and tried to give me a piece of bread this afternoon.
I instinctively told, "No, thank you!"
She looked kind of hurt.
"Are you sure?" She asked me.
Feeling a little guilty, I accepted the bread, and with some misgivings, I ate it too.
However, there was a time when I learned the hard way not to accept food from little children.
When was Nikki was about two (She's four now) I was her 'eating buddy'.
Every time I'd come over to visit, she'd see me, squeal, and then run to the refrigerator to get a pudding.
Then she's find two spoons, and she and I would eat together, as best buddies.
This went on for quite some time, and I'd pretty much eat anything she brought me.
Until one day, when she had just turned three, she came over to me and said,
"Hi Barbie, would you like a cracker?"
"Of course I would," I said.
Then, she pulled a cracker from out of her diaper and handed it to me.
My mind flashed back to all the times I'd eaten things she'd handed to me without even thinking twice about it.
I stared at the cracker for a long while, before finally asking her what else she had stored in her diaper.
She proudly pulled out a necklace, half a bag of M&Ms, six peanut butter crackers, and a small doll.
Never again after that particular afternoon did I accept food from Nikki.
Sure, if she brings me a bag of chips, I will eat chips with her.
If I watch her open a bag of candy, I will eat the candy with her.
But never again will I blindly accept a cracker, or anything else for that matter, from a very small child.
I personally think too, that if your kid thinks their diaper is nothing but a large pocket for them to store things in, it's time to start thinking about potty training them.
And that's the truth.
I instinctively told, "No, thank you!"
She looked kind of hurt.
"Are you sure?" She asked me.
Feeling a little guilty, I accepted the bread, and with some misgivings, I ate it too.
However, there was a time when I learned the hard way not to accept food from little children.
When was Nikki was about two (She's four now) I was her 'eating buddy'.
Every time I'd come over to visit, she'd see me, squeal, and then run to the refrigerator to get a pudding.
Then she's find two spoons, and she and I would eat together, as best buddies.
This went on for quite some time, and I'd pretty much eat anything she brought me.
Until one day, when she had just turned three, she came over to me and said,
"Hi Barbie, would you like a cracker?"
"Of course I would," I said.
Then, she pulled a cracker from out of her diaper and handed it to me.
My mind flashed back to all the times I'd eaten things she'd handed to me without even thinking twice about it.
I stared at the cracker for a long while, before finally asking her what else she had stored in her diaper.
She proudly pulled out a necklace, half a bag of M&Ms, six peanut butter crackers, and a small doll.
Never again after that particular afternoon did I accept food from Nikki.
Sure, if she brings me a bag of chips, I will eat chips with her.
If I watch her open a bag of candy, I will eat the candy with her.
But never again will I blindly accept a cracker, or anything else for that matter, from a very small child.
I personally think too, that if your kid thinks their diaper is nothing but a large pocket for them to store things in, it's time to start thinking about potty training them.
And that's the truth.
Bad Drivers
Thinking about all the bad drivers in the world gets me to thinking about Margaret.
I was in the car once with Margaret when she hit a gas pump.
All these people came running out of the gas station, so Margaret just threw her car into reverse, and then got the Hell out of there.
We just went to a different gas station.
Margaret is a better driver now than she once was. She used to be so bad, we all thought she'd die driving, for sure.
Once, she was trying to back out of her driveway, and she accidentally hit her husband's truck.
She also kept leaving her glasses on the hood of her car, and then backing over them.
She went through four pairs of glasses because she kept running them over.
Once, she had so many points on her license for speeding and swerving around that she almost went to jail.
For a while, she had to go down and pay a speeding ticket fine at least once a month.
Whenever the cops pull her over, they always check to see if she is wearing shoes, because they have it written down somewhere that she drives barefoot.
The greatest thing about Margaret is that she gets in the car with me when I'm driving, and she bitches about how I brake the car, and what speed I'm going, etc. . . .
I don't complain when she's driving.
I just repeat my mantra, and try to go to my 'special place'—the garden of my mind.
Sometimes, I imagine that I am on a beach, drinking Iced Tea, and watching the waves roll in.
The best story about Margaret's driving, I think, is the time the cops pulled her over for drunk driving when she was sober.
I guess she was doing about 20 miles under the speed limit, and swerving from one lane to the next.
She claims that she was trying to drink hot tea in a travel cup, and that's why she was swerving so badly.
I guess the cops turned on their siren, but she just kept driving because she didn't think they were trying to pull her over.
They followed her for a long time, until another cop car came to block her. Then she pulled off to the side of the road.
The cop had her walk a straight line, and she passed because she wasn't drunk. Then he made her sing her ABC's, and touch her nose.
The cop became more and more upset because he was sure that she was drunk.
"How can you drive that badly sober?" The cop asked her, becoming irate.
He asked for permission to search her car, and went digging through her vehicle looking for drugs and alcohol.
When he found nothing, he got even more upset.
Margaret said he was screaming and his face was turning red.
She became afraid that he was going to plant drugs on her, just so he could arrest her for something.
The cops who had been called for back up told the other cop who wanted to arrest Margaret to let her go, and that she really was just a bad driver.
Margaret came to my house to tell me about this incident, stunned at what had happened.
"Do you really think they would have planted drugs on me, Barbie?" She asked me.
"If that's what it would take to get you off the roadways, I think so." I said.
She got mad at me for my lack of empathy, but really, some people should not be out driving.
There is no shame in taking public transportation.
If you drive that badly, save everyone some trouble and just take the bus.
I was in the car once with Margaret when she hit a gas pump.
All these people came running out of the gas station, so Margaret just threw her car into reverse, and then got the Hell out of there.
We just went to a different gas station.
Margaret is a better driver now than she once was. She used to be so bad, we all thought she'd die driving, for sure.
Once, she was trying to back out of her driveway, and she accidentally hit her husband's truck.
She also kept leaving her glasses on the hood of her car, and then backing over them.
She went through four pairs of glasses because she kept running them over.
Once, she had so many points on her license for speeding and swerving around that she almost went to jail.
For a while, she had to go down and pay a speeding ticket fine at least once a month.
Whenever the cops pull her over, they always check to see if she is wearing shoes, because they have it written down somewhere that she drives barefoot.
The greatest thing about Margaret is that she gets in the car with me when I'm driving, and she bitches about how I brake the car, and what speed I'm going, etc. . . .
I don't complain when she's driving.
I just repeat my mantra, and try to go to my 'special place'—the garden of my mind.
Sometimes, I imagine that I am on a beach, drinking Iced Tea, and watching the waves roll in.
The best story about Margaret's driving, I think, is the time the cops pulled her over for drunk driving when she was sober.
I guess she was doing about 20 miles under the speed limit, and swerving from one lane to the next.
She claims that she was trying to drink hot tea in a travel cup, and that's why she was swerving so badly.
I guess the cops turned on their siren, but she just kept driving because she didn't think they were trying to pull her over.
They followed her for a long time, until another cop car came to block her. Then she pulled off to the side of the road.
The cop had her walk a straight line, and she passed because she wasn't drunk. Then he made her sing her ABC's, and touch her nose.
The cop became more and more upset because he was sure that she was drunk.
"How can you drive that badly sober?" The cop asked her, becoming irate.
He asked for permission to search her car, and went digging through her vehicle looking for drugs and alcohol.
When he found nothing, he got even more upset.
Margaret said he was screaming and his face was turning red.
She became afraid that he was going to plant drugs on her, just so he could arrest her for something.
The cops who had been called for back up told the other cop who wanted to arrest Margaret to let her go, and that she really was just a bad driver.
Margaret came to my house to tell me about this incident, stunned at what had happened.
"Do you really think they would have planted drugs on me, Barbie?" She asked me.
"If that's what it would take to get you off the roadways, I think so." I said.
She got mad at me for my lack of empathy, but really, some people should not be out driving.
There is no shame in taking public transportation.
If you drive that badly, save everyone some trouble and just take the bus.
The Most Harrowing Trip of My Life
went out with Aimee this evening.
She drove, and sometimes, her driving scares me a little bit.
It scares me mostly just because she likes to turn in front of oncoming traffic.
The drive was getting so scary, in fact, that it got me reminiscing about how when I was a little girl, my Dad used to scare the hell out of me whenever he was driving.
He used to fall asleep when driving sometimes, and we'd have to scream and wake him up. He also sped a lot.
He had to eventually get insurance coverage from a shady insurance place due to the many points he had on his driver's license.
What made it worse, however, was that my dad had a real bad heart, and he was convinced the whole time I was growing up that he could die at any minute.
His favorite time to remind you of the fact that he could die at any minute was when he was driving down the expressway, going about 90 miles an hour.
He'd turn suddenly, clutch his chest with one hand, look you right in the eye, and say, "You know I could die at any minute, right?"
I was always sure dad was going to die while driving, and take his passengers out with him.
I remember the most frightening drive, however, happened when I was pretty old.
I think it was a year before my father passed away.
He had asked us if we would go to Detroit with him in order to hear a politician who he was campaigning for give a speech.
I told him that I would love to go, and so I spent the night over at his house, and he woke me up at five o'clock in the morning the next day for our trip.
My brother Josh, my baby brother Dougie, and I, piled into the car, put on our seat belts, and had hopes of going back to sleep and then waking up again when we were in Detroit.
Unfortunately, there had been an ice storm in the night, and the roads were covered in a thick sheeting of frozen rain water.
Dad also had just taken his heart medicine, and he claimed he was seeing double because his medicine hadn't kicked in yet.
The doctors had also prescribed another medication to him for his heart that had caused him to break out into an itchy rash.
Later, I cured his rash myself by providing him with a certain lotion that cleared it up.
However, this was before I had cured his rash, and so he still itched.
Anyway, he jumped on the highway, and started driving at about 90 miles per hour.
The roads were so slick that cars whose drivers had lost control of their vehicles lined the ditch alongside the highway.
My dad kept shaking his head, because he said he was seeing double, and then he'd roll his window down and stick his head out the window because he found it refreshing.
His back itched, because of the rash, and so he kept rubbing his back on the seat trying to get to the itch, shaking his head in order to get rid of his double vision, and then sticking his head out the window.
He performed these actions all while going 90 miles per hour down the iced over highway and swerving dangerously near the cars that had landed in the ditch.
I sat in the front seat, in a kind of frozen terror, sure that I would die.
I looked in the backseat where my brother Josh was, and took note of the fact that he had simply covered his face with his hat.
I poked him awake and asked him if he was scared.
"Scared?" He asked, "What are you talking about? I'm not looking."
"Don't you want to know what we hit that killed you?" I asked him. "After we're dead, don't you want to know what ended it all?"
"Hell no," Josh said, "I wanna go out blind. I don't care what dad hits. When I'm dead I'm dead."
I finally couldn't take it anymore, and so I moved into the backseat with my two brothers.
I piled the pillows that I had found in the back all around me, and held my brother Dougie, in order to comfort him.
To calm myself, I just kept chanting, "Death is but a door. Time is but a window. I'll be back." Over and over again.
My little brother Dougie, who was about six at the time, asked me if I thought we were going to die.
I told him that we would only die if it was our time to go and meet the angels.
With nothing but sheer luck helping him, and the fact that my dad had some sort a guardian angel protecting him, we actually made it to Detroit.
When I got out of the car, I laid down on pavement in the parking lot, and I thanked God for my life.
I remember, after I quit shaking, I looked up from the ground at my brother Josh and I asked him, I said, "Do you think that God kept us alive through that trip because we have important work to do on the Earth?"
"Yes," Josh said, "We must have some sort of a destiny. Or a life plan, since we made it here alive."
And I was just like, "That's gotta be the truth. Maybe we're supposed to cure cancer."
That trip was the closest I think I've ever come to dying.
It made me appreciate life so much more, because I have looked death right in the eye, and somehow, I still made it to Detroit.
She drove, and sometimes, her driving scares me a little bit.
It scares me mostly just because she likes to turn in front of oncoming traffic.
The drive was getting so scary, in fact, that it got me reminiscing about how when I was a little girl, my Dad used to scare the hell out of me whenever he was driving.
He used to fall asleep when driving sometimes, and we'd have to scream and wake him up. He also sped a lot.
He had to eventually get insurance coverage from a shady insurance place due to the many points he had on his driver's license.
What made it worse, however, was that my dad had a real bad heart, and he was convinced the whole time I was growing up that he could die at any minute.
His favorite time to remind you of the fact that he could die at any minute was when he was driving down the expressway, going about 90 miles an hour.
He'd turn suddenly, clutch his chest with one hand, look you right in the eye, and say, "You know I could die at any minute, right?"
I was always sure dad was going to die while driving, and take his passengers out with him.
I remember the most frightening drive, however, happened when I was pretty old.
I think it was a year before my father passed away.
He had asked us if we would go to Detroit with him in order to hear a politician who he was campaigning for give a speech.
I told him that I would love to go, and so I spent the night over at his house, and he woke me up at five o'clock in the morning the next day for our trip.
My brother Josh, my baby brother Dougie, and I, piled into the car, put on our seat belts, and had hopes of going back to sleep and then waking up again when we were in Detroit.
Unfortunately, there had been an ice storm in the night, and the roads were covered in a thick sheeting of frozen rain water.
Dad also had just taken his heart medicine, and he claimed he was seeing double because his medicine hadn't kicked in yet.
The doctors had also prescribed another medication to him for his heart that had caused him to break out into an itchy rash.
Later, I cured his rash myself by providing him with a certain lotion that cleared it up.
However, this was before I had cured his rash, and so he still itched.
Anyway, he jumped on the highway, and started driving at about 90 miles per hour.
The roads were so slick that cars whose drivers had lost control of their vehicles lined the ditch alongside the highway.
My dad kept shaking his head, because he said he was seeing double, and then he'd roll his window down and stick his head out the window because he found it refreshing.
His back itched, because of the rash, and so he kept rubbing his back on the seat trying to get to the itch, shaking his head in order to get rid of his double vision, and then sticking his head out the window.
He performed these actions all while going 90 miles per hour down the iced over highway and swerving dangerously near the cars that had landed in the ditch.
I sat in the front seat, in a kind of frozen terror, sure that I would die.
I looked in the backseat where my brother Josh was, and took note of the fact that he had simply covered his face with his hat.
I poked him awake and asked him if he was scared.
"Scared?" He asked, "What are you talking about? I'm not looking."
"Don't you want to know what we hit that killed you?" I asked him. "After we're dead, don't you want to know what ended it all?"
"Hell no," Josh said, "I wanna go out blind. I don't care what dad hits. When I'm dead I'm dead."
I finally couldn't take it anymore, and so I moved into the backseat with my two brothers.
I piled the pillows that I had found in the back all around me, and held my brother Dougie, in order to comfort him.
To calm myself, I just kept chanting, "Death is but a door. Time is but a window. I'll be back." Over and over again.
My little brother Dougie, who was about six at the time, asked me if I thought we were going to die.
I told him that we would only die if it was our time to go and meet the angels.
With nothing but sheer luck helping him, and the fact that my dad had some sort a guardian angel protecting him, we actually made it to Detroit.
When I got out of the car, I laid down on pavement in the parking lot, and I thanked God for my life.
I remember, after I quit shaking, I looked up from the ground at my brother Josh and I asked him, I said, "Do you think that God kept us alive through that trip because we have important work to do on the Earth?"
"Yes," Josh said, "We must have some sort of a destiny. Or a life plan, since we made it here alive."
And I was just like, "That's gotta be the truth. Maybe we're supposed to cure cancer."
That trip was the closest I think I've ever come to dying.
It made me appreciate life so much more, because I have looked death right in the eye, and somehow, I still made it to Detroit.
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
Number One and Number Two
You know, I have never been able to bring myself to order a number one or a number two value meal at McDonalds.
I just can't do it.
When kids are little, I have heard them refer to their 'elimination' processes in the manner of number one being urine, and number two being feces.
And so, since McDonalds and Burger King and other fast food places in general do have a reputation for selling people, "Shitty food" I can't understand why they would refer to any food stuff on their menus with numbers like that.
I have never tried a number one or a number two at McDonalds or Burger King or any other place.
Once, I went through the drive through at McDonalds, and I was going to try to order a number two, because if I recall correctly, it doesn't look like a bad value meal.
However, I started sniggering when I tried to get the words out.
I was like, "Hi, I'll have a, heh heh heh." Then I started giggling. "Ha ha ha. A number. . . a number. . . . . uhhhhhhhhhhh."
Finally, I just got a "number seven."
I'll bet the person working the fast food window thought I was retarded.
I just kept thinking to myself, "Hi I'd like to order some shit."
I mean, a number two. Ha! ha!
I wonder if there's anyone else in this world who just couldn't ever bring themselves to order a number two at a fast food restaurant, or if I'm the only person out there with this problem.
I wonder if the number ones and the number twos are always the worst selling value meals at every restaurant.
I wonder if this is a sign that I really am incredibly immature.
If you can roll through a McDonalds drive through and order a number two with a straight face, does that mean that you are a 'real grown up'?
I'll bet a true adult can go into any fast food place and order a number two. without thinking anything of it. They'd just take their sandwich and leave.
They wouldn't be thinking stuff to themselves like,
"Yeah, why don't you sell me some shit? At least you're honest. Why don't you super size my number two while you're at it? Or make it a king size. Or a supreme. Do you think you could put some sour cream and some tomatoes on my number two?"
I'll bet some people, ESPECIALLY health food people, think that every thing on the menu at fast food places are 'number twos anyway."
Man, I really do need to become more mature and stop being such a dork.
I should go to McDonalds right now and order a number two. That would be a sure sign that I was a true adult, and not just a big, overgrown, twelve year old.
I just can't do it.
When kids are little, I have heard them refer to their 'elimination' processes in the manner of number one being urine, and number two being feces.
And so, since McDonalds and Burger King and other fast food places in general do have a reputation for selling people, "Shitty food" I can't understand why they would refer to any food stuff on their menus with numbers like that.
I have never tried a number one or a number two at McDonalds or Burger King or any other place.
Once, I went through the drive through at McDonalds, and I was going to try to order a number two, because if I recall correctly, it doesn't look like a bad value meal.
However, I started sniggering when I tried to get the words out.
I was like, "Hi, I'll have a, heh heh heh." Then I started giggling. "Ha ha ha. A number. . . a number. . . . . uhhhhhhhhhhh."
Finally, I just got a "number seven."
I'll bet the person working the fast food window thought I was retarded.
I just kept thinking to myself, "Hi I'd like to order some shit."
I mean, a number two. Ha! ha!
I wonder if there's anyone else in this world who just couldn't ever bring themselves to order a number two at a fast food restaurant, or if I'm the only person out there with this problem.
I wonder if the number ones and the number twos are always the worst selling value meals at every restaurant.
I wonder if this is a sign that I really am incredibly immature.
If you can roll through a McDonalds drive through and order a number two with a straight face, does that mean that you are a 'real grown up'?
I'll bet a true adult can go into any fast food place and order a number two. without thinking anything of it. They'd just take their sandwich and leave.
They wouldn't be thinking stuff to themselves like,
"Yeah, why don't you sell me some shit? At least you're honest. Why don't you super size my number two while you're at it? Or make it a king size. Or a supreme. Do you think you could put some sour cream and some tomatoes on my number two?"
I'll bet some people, ESPECIALLY health food people, think that every thing on the menu at fast food places are 'number twos anyway."
Man, I really do need to become more mature and stop being such a dork.
I should go to McDonalds right now and order a number two. That would be a sure sign that I was a true adult, and not just a big, overgrown, twelve year old.
Bras
You know, I used to spend a lot of time trying to convince my future sister-in-law that she needed to wear a bra.
She just won't wear one, and I don't know why.
She doesn't care at all.
She used to wear a t-shirt that had a big hole in it, and a caption across the front that said, "Made you look", and sometimes her boob would pop out of the hole.
I said to her, "Dude, you if don't start wearing a bra, you're gonna be playing hacky sack with those giant breasts of yours because they will eventually reach your ankles.
I even took her bra shopping once, but she didn't 'like' any of the bras.
She finally let me buy her a shirt that had a built in bra, but when she got home, she took the underwires out of the shirt because they were 'uncomfortable.'
Look, I'm not talking about a girl with small breast here. I'm talking about a girl with GIGANTIC breasts.
If you are over a certain cups size, than you have to wear a bra. It's the law.
Now me, I wear a bra all the time. I even sleep in a bra. I slather on breast firming cream. . .
There's no way in hell I'm ever getting saggy boobs. I refuse to go down that road.
If my breasts ever even slightly start to sag, I'm getting them removed and then I'm having implants put in instead.
I can't understand why everyone doesn't feel the same way as I feel about this issue.
I don't want to act like a certain person who I know, and start to claim that I know everything about breasts, or how to prevent your breast from sagging--or even that saggy boobs are somehow 'bad'--I'm just saying, it can be prevented.
Why go all 'National Geographic' if you haven't got to?
Anyone who wears anything larger than an A cup should be wearing a bra.
And if you're bigger than a C, then you have to wear a bra and that is THAT.
My brother's girlfriend wears a DD. A DOUBLE D!!!!!! Now that she's breastfeeding, she wears a G. A G!!!!!!!!
She needs to wear a bra! She needs to strap her mammoth breasts down, or else I'm telling you, eventually, they won't be round.
They will be long, like socks.
Big round boobs go long like socks if you don't wear a bra.
I would never let that happen to me.
I keep my boobs strapped in. They're not flopping around.
I don't understand why everyone doesn't feel the same way as I do about this issue.
I know that I haven't got all the answers, and I know that I'm not always right.
But dammit all, I think I know what I'm talking about when it comes to the prevention of sagging breasts.
I'm no expert, but I still say, wear a bra all the time, don't jump around for no good reason, use the firming cream, don't gain or lose any weight, and then you will never get saggy boobs.
Remember: An ounce of prevention is better than a pound of cure
She just won't wear one, and I don't know why.
She doesn't care at all.
She used to wear a t-shirt that had a big hole in it, and a caption across the front that said, "Made you look", and sometimes her boob would pop out of the hole.
I said to her, "Dude, you if don't start wearing a bra, you're gonna be playing hacky sack with those giant breasts of yours because they will eventually reach your ankles.
I even took her bra shopping once, but she didn't 'like' any of the bras.
She finally let me buy her a shirt that had a built in bra, but when she got home, she took the underwires out of the shirt because they were 'uncomfortable.'
Look, I'm not talking about a girl with small breast here. I'm talking about a girl with GIGANTIC breasts.
If you are over a certain cups size, than you have to wear a bra. It's the law.
Now me, I wear a bra all the time. I even sleep in a bra. I slather on breast firming cream. . .
There's no way in hell I'm ever getting saggy boobs. I refuse to go down that road.
If my breasts ever even slightly start to sag, I'm getting them removed and then I'm having implants put in instead.
I can't understand why everyone doesn't feel the same way as I feel about this issue.
I don't want to act like a certain person who I know, and start to claim that I know everything about breasts, or how to prevent your breast from sagging--or even that saggy boobs are somehow 'bad'--I'm just saying, it can be prevented.
Why go all 'National Geographic' if you haven't got to?
Anyone who wears anything larger than an A cup should be wearing a bra.
And if you're bigger than a C, then you have to wear a bra and that is THAT.
My brother's girlfriend wears a DD. A DOUBLE D!!!!!! Now that she's breastfeeding, she wears a G. A G!!!!!!!!
She needs to wear a bra! She needs to strap her mammoth breasts down, or else I'm telling you, eventually, they won't be round.
They will be long, like socks.
Big round boobs go long like socks if you don't wear a bra.
I would never let that happen to me.
I keep my boobs strapped in. They're not flopping around.
I don't understand why everyone doesn't feel the same way as I do about this issue.
I know that I haven't got all the answers, and I know that I'm not always right.
But dammit all, I think I know what I'm talking about when it comes to the prevention of sagging breasts.
I'm no expert, but I still say, wear a bra all the time, don't jump around for no good reason, use the firming cream, don't gain or lose any weight, and then you will never get saggy boobs.
Remember: An ounce of prevention is better than a pound of cure
An Exciting New Discovery
I just found out that you can go on social security/disability for being retarded.
I'll bet all you have to do is fail an IQ test administered by the state.
Forget about studying to pass stupid, hard tests. Screw that, I'm gonna go down and fail that IQ test.
It can't be that hard to fail an IQ test. Anyone can fail an IQ test if they try.
All you have to do in order to fail an IQ test, is circle the wrong answer every time you happen to know the right answer, and then just circle the worst 'guess' for the questions you don't know the right answer to anyway.
It's impossible not to fail a test if you try.
I feel like a damn genius over here for coming up with this plan.
I mean, how do they keep the people who might score above an 80 on an IQ test from going down and attempting to fail the test so that they can become certified?
That's why this is so brilliant. Anyone can fail the test.
You can't fail FAILING the test!
I'm going to make an appointment on Monday to see about going down to fail the IQ test, and whatever other tests they may give to me.
Then, after I prove to the authorities that I am profoundly retarded, I'm going to go live in a home.
I'll bet I could get in, for sure. And I'll bet I'd like living in a home better than where I live now.
I'm ready to move almost anywhere else. I think I might have Aimee convinced that we need to get an apartment together.
But if not, a home would be all right as well.
And do you know what else would be cool?
It would be cool if you went down and became a member of Mensa, and then, after which, you went down and became certified as being retarded and then went on disability.
You know, they investigate disability claims, and so it would be interesting to see how long it would take you to get busted if you were also a 'certified genius.'
I wonder if you could argue that you are an idiot savant?
Another thing too, that is probably true, is that since they watch people who go on disability for having physical ailments, they would probably watch someone who went on disability for being retarded.
What this means, of course, is that once you went on the disability for being retarded, if you were lying, then you'd have to make sure no one caught you doing anything that might not be in keeping with your real IQ score.
You probably wouldn't be off at the library, checking out books, because that would suspicious behavior. As would opening up a accounting business. Or publishing a book.
What's more is that, you probably couldn't get into Grad school.
Although, I guess it's still possible that you could go to Grad school, as long as you went and got an MBA Ha! Ha! Ha! (I'm just joking, bad joke)
I really do think it might be true though, that it would be discrimination to refuse to allow any particular group of individuals into a public school, so I might be able to go off the Grad school even if I did live in a home
I might have to research my life options living as someone who has failed the 'state certified IQ test', just to see what kinds of things I will no longer be able to do in the future.
My new life philosophy is now 'Aim Low Grasshopper—but don't hit your foot.'
I'm (mostly) joking with this post. If anyone knows any retarded people, please don't take any offence. . . . .
I know that being retarded is a serious condition and that it isn't funny.
I know because my roomate is retarded. Ha! Ha! (Joke)
I'll bet all you have to do is fail an IQ test administered by the state.
Forget about studying to pass stupid, hard tests. Screw that, I'm gonna go down and fail that IQ test.
It can't be that hard to fail an IQ test. Anyone can fail an IQ test if they try.
All you have to do in order to fail an IQ test, is circle the wrong answer every time you happen to know the right answer, and then just circle the worst 'guess' for the questions you don't know the right answer to anyway.
It's impossible not to fail a test if you try.
I feel like a damn genius over here for coming up with this plan.
I mean, how do they keep the people who might score above an 80 on an IQ test from going down and attempting to fail the test so that they can become certified?
That's why this is so brilliant. Anyone can fail the test.
You can't fail FAILING the test!
I'm going to make an appointment on Monday to see about going down to fail the IQ test, and whatever other tests they may give to me.
Then, after I prove to the authorities that I am profoundly retarded, I'm going to go live in a home.
I'll bet I could get in, for sure. And I'll bet I'd like living in a home better than where I live now.
I'm ready to move almost anywhere else. I think I might have Aimee convinced that we need to get an apartment together.
But if not, a home would be all right as well.
And do you know what else would be cool?
It would be cool if you went down and became a member of Mensa, and then, after which, you went down and became certified as being retarded and then went on disability.
You know, they investigate disability claims, and so it would be interesting to see how long it would take you to get busted if you were also a 'certified genius.'
I wonder if you could argue that you are an idiot savant?
Another thing too, that is probably true, is that since they watch people who go on disability for having physical ailments, they would probably watch someone who went on disability for being retarded.
What this means, of course, is that once you went on the disability for being retarded, if you were lying, then you'd have to make sure no one caught you doing anything that might not be in keeping with your real IQ score.
You probably wouldn't be off at the library, checking out books, because that would suspicious behavior. As would opening up a accounting business. Or publishing a book.
What's more is that, you probably couldn't get into Grad school.
Although, I guess it's still possible that you could go to Grad school, as long as you went and got an MBA Ha! Ha! Ha! (I'm just joking, bad joke)
I really do think it might be true though, that it would be discrimination to refuse to allow any particular group of individuals into a public school, so I might be able to go off the Grad school even if I did live in a home
I might have to research my life options living as someone who has failed the 'state certified IQ test', just to see what kinds of things I will no longer be able to do in the future.
My new life philosophy is now 'Aim Low Grasshopper—but don't hit your foot.'
I'm (mostly) joking with this post. If anyone knows any retarded people, please don't take any offence. . . . .
I know that being retarded is a serious condition and that it isn't funny.
I know because my roomate is retarded. Ha! Ha! (Joke)
6 O’clock in the morning
Well, I was awoken from a deep sleep very early this morning at the sound of the baby screeching.
I guess I must have more maternal instinct then I thought I did, since I can't believe I'd ever wake up for something like a baby screaming.
But Ocean, Bekki's baby, has only two regular cries.
One is the cry she makes when she is uncomfortable and needs some food or her diaper changed.
And the other is a high pitched screech she makes when you've done something to piss her off.
I personally get the high pitched screech a lot, because I piss the baby off a lot.
She doesn't think I'm competent, and I'm always trying to put her down, or get her to take a nap.
The cry that woke me up, however, was more of a pathetic whimpering.
It was a frightening, sad cry.
A cry that something was desperately amiss.
I jumped from my bed and ran out to investigate the situation, where I soon found Bekki comforting her whimpering baby.
It seems that baby, who is too lazy to crawl, for some reason did some sort of a butt wiggle/pelvic thrust up Bekki's bed.
Once she got to the top of the mattress, she stuck her head in the gap between the mattress and the wall, where she got her head stuck.
Her head was stuck and she couldn't pull it back out.
I guess it was the fear of having her head stuck like that that caused her to make that pathetic cry of distress.
She looked all shaken and freaked out.
When I found out what had caused the distress cry, I started laughing.
Then Bekki started laughing too, because you know, it really was funny.
I mean come on? Who gets their head stuck between the mattress and the wall?
I guess I must have more maternal instinct then I thought I did, since I can't believe I'd ever wake up for something like a baby screaming.
But Ocean, Bekki's baby, has only two regular cries.
One is the cry she makes when she is uncomfortable and needs some food or her diaper changed.
And the other is a high pitched screech she makes when you've done something to piss her off.
I personally get the high pitched screech a lot, because I piss the baby off a lot.
She doesn't think I'm competent, and I'm always trying to put her down, or get her to take a nap.
The cry that woke me up, however, was more of a pathetic whimpering.
It was a frightening, sad cry.
A cry that something was desperately amiss.
I jumped from my bed and ran out to investigate the situation, where I soon found Bekki comforting her whimpering baby.
It seems that baby, who is too lazy to crawl, for some reason did some sort of a butt wiggle/pelvic thrust up Bekki's bed.
Once she got to the top of the mattress, she stuck her head in the gap between the mattress and the wall, where she got her head stuck.
Her head was stuck and she couldn't pull it back out.
I guess it was the fear of having her head stuck like that that caused her to make that pathetic cry of distress.
She looked all shaken and freaked out.
When I found out what had caused the distress cry, I started laughing.
Then Bekki started laughing too, because you know, it really was funny.
I mean come on? Who gets their head stuck between the mattress and the wall?
Someone is gonna get that guy, for sure
I'll tell you the truth; I'm a pacifist at heart.
I'm a bug advocate. I stand up for the spiders of this world. I don't even like to squash mosquitoes.
I don't kill things.
I'm nonviolent.
I'd be out there saving the squirrels and the chipmunks if I thought they needed my help.
However, there's this guy who roller blades down the middle of the road with these ski poles, and I don't think he's going to live very long.
I mean, when me, Barbie, the girl who wants to save the spiders from harm, would like to strike you down, than somebody is gonna get you for sure.
There I was, driving down the road right? Going about 5 miles an hour because I'm trapped behind this guy on roller blades.
You can't pass him because it's a no passing zone, going up a hill, and he's rolling down the middle of the roadway on his roller blades, so what are you supposed to do? Pass him on the grass?
The whole time I'm following this asshole I'm thinking to myself stuff like, "I'm gonna hit this guy. It's all over for you, buddy. I'm gonna strike you down with my car, and then speed away into the night."
I even started looking around to see if any neighbor people were out of their houses, just to see if the coast was clear.
I was checking to see if anyone was looking before I attempted to try my hit and run.
I even though to myself, "Do it dude, do it while there's time."
But I could bring myself to step on the accelerator. I wanted to, but I didn't.
I thought of prison, and how convicts hide weapons in their rectums, and then I went back to looking for neighbor people, because you never know if the coast is really clear or not.
Look, I don't even squash mosquitoes, but I'd run that asshole on the roller blades over in about a second if I thought I could get away with it.
In my fantasy, I thought I'd first run him over, then I'd throw my car into reverse and back over him, then I'd drive backwards down the street so that no one who witnessed the 'hit and run' would see my plate.
While I followed behind that idiot, I was even began daydreaming about what color I'd repaint my car after the 'accident.'
If that's the sort of thing good old nonviolent Barbie is thinking while you roller blade at 5 m/hr in front of her car, than someone else really will kill you.
It takes a lot of nerve to roller blade down the middle of the road going about 5 miles per hour. I predict someone hits him.
I have no idea who is going to hit this guy. But I bet a dollar that eventually, he'll get taken out.
The speed limit on that road is 55 miles per hour. He was going 5 miles per hour.
That's not fast enough.
The road is hilly, it's not flat.
That guy better stop skating down the middle of the road with ski poles if he wants to keep safe.
Someone will get him.
I'm sure of this.
I'm a bug advocate. I stand up for the spiders of this world. I don't even like to squash mosquitoes.
I don't kill things.
I'm nonviolent.
I'd be out there saving the squirrels and the chipmunks if I thought they needed my help.
However, there's this guy who roller blades down the middle of the road with these ski poles, and I don't think he's going to live very long.
I mean, when me, Barbie, the girl who wants to save the spiders from harm, would like to strike you down, than somebody is gonna get you for sure.
There I was, driving down the road right? Going about 5 miles an hour because I'm trapped behind this guy on roller blades.
You can't pass him because it's a no passing zone, going up a hill, and he's rolling down the middle of the roadway on his roller blades, so what are you supposed to do? Pass him on the grass?
The whole time I'm following this asshole I'm thinking to myself stuff like, "I'm gonna hit this guy. It's all over for you, buddy. I'm gonna strike you down with my car, and then speed away into the night."
I even started looking around to see if any neighbor people were out of their houses, just to see if the coast was clear.
I was checking to see if anyone was looking before I attempted to try my hit and run.
I even though to myself, "Do it dude, do it while there's time."
But I could bring myself to step on the accelerator. I wanted to, but I didn't.
I thought of prison, and how convicts hide weapons in their rectums, and then I went back to looking for neighbor people, because you never know if the coast is really clear or not.
Look, I don't even squash mosquitoes, but I'd run that asshole on the roller blades over in about a second if I thought I could get away with it.
In my fantasy, I thought I'd first run him over, then I'd throw my car into reverse and back over him, then I'd drive backwards down the street so that no one who witnessed the 'hit and run' would see my plate.
While I followed behind that idiot, I was even began daydreaming about what color I'd repaint my car after the 'accident.'
If that's the sort of thing good old nonviolent Barbie is thinking while you roller blade at 5 m/hr in front of her car, than someone else really will kill you.
It takes a lot of nerve to roller blade down the middle of the road going about 5 miles per hour. I predict someone hits him.
I have no idea who is going to hit this guy. But I bet a dollar that eventually, he'll get taken out.
The speed limit on that road is 55 miles per hour. He was going 5 miles per hour.
That's not fast enough.
The road is hilly, it's not flat.
That guy better stop skating down the middle of the road with ski poles if he wants to keep safe.
Someone will get him.
I'm sure of this.
Video Games and Violence on TV
I've taken a lot of college classes. More, actually, than I technically needed to take.
After a while, you start seeing the same stuff over and over again. I've seen several of the same videos shown in different classes.
I've read recountings of the same information in different textbooks.
The authors may change, but the information generally remains the same.
One of the things I hated reading about most when I took a social science class was violence caused by video games and watching TV.
Look, I don't care how many social scientists research this topic, video games and TV do not cause people to become violent.
People are naturally violent.
All you have to do is look at a history book for about five seconds and you will realize that people were violent way before they ever invented video games and TV.
Do you think the Ancient Romans were staying up late watching horror movies before they went and watched gladiators fight to the death?
Maybe they watched something really bad, like, "Faces of Death" before they got the idea of feeding Christians to lions, too.
That has to be the case for sure, the ancient Romans were so violent because of too much TV.
I once read an account about how when Cortés and his conquistador buddies were down raping and enslaving the Aztec Indians of what is now Mexico, they cut a little Indian boys head off and played kick ball with it.
Do you think the conquistadors got that idea from a video game?
Our founding fathers, those bastard puritans, used to kill and torture the Indian population native to North America too.
Do you think those bible thumping morons got their ideas from playing a Sega Geneses?
No.
Why? Because electricity, television, and video games HADN'T BEEN INVENTED YET.
Social science researchers need to take some history classes. That's what they need to do.
Our people, the human race, burned women at the stake for practicing 'witchcraft'.
PEOPLE, who were around WAY BEFORE TV used to go to public hangings for entertainment. These people would heckle and throw things at the people who were being put to death!
PEOPLE ARE VIOLENT!
We're less violent then we used to be, that's for sure. We're actually making progress.
Don't be an ass and think that violent video games and movies could 'desensitize' youngsters to violent acts.
BULLSHIT. If these youngsters want to sublimate their violent tendencies into a healthy aggression towards their opponent in a video game than that is actually a wonderful outlet for their natural violence.
PEOPLE ARE VIOLENT.
THEY ALWAYS HAVE BEEN.
IT IS NOT THE FAULT OF TV OR VIDEO GAMES.
What pisses me off the most is that these social scientist get grants to study that kind of bullshit too.
A waste of money if there ever was one.
After a while, you start seeing the same stuff over and over again. I've seen several of the same videos shown in different classes.
I've read recountings of the same information in different textbooks.
The authors may change, but the information generally remains the same.
One of the things I hated reading about most when I took a social science class was violence caused by video games and watching TV.
Look, I don't care how many social scientists research this topic, video games and TV do not cause people to become violent.
People are naturally violent.
All you have to do is look at a history book for about five seconds and you will realize that people were violent way before they ever invented video games and TV.
Do you think the Ancient Romans were staying up late watching horror movies before they went and watched gladiators fight to the death?
Maybe they watched something really bad, like, "Faces of Death" before they got the idea of feeding Christians to lions, too.
That has to be the case for sure, the ancient Romans were so violent because of too much TV.
I once read an account about how when Cortés and his conquistador buddies were down raping and enslaving the Aztec Indians of what is now Mexico, they cut a little Indian boys head off and played kick ball with it.
Do you think the conquistadors got that idea from a video game?
Our founding fathers, those bastard puritans, used to kill and torture the Indian population native to North America too.
Do you think those bible thumping morons got their ideas from playing a Sega Geneses?
No.
Why? Because electricity, television, and video games HADN'T BEEN INVENTED YET.
Social science researchers need to take some history classes. That's what they need to do.
Our people, the human race, burned women at the stake for practicing 'witchcraft'.
PEOPLE, who were around WAY BEFORE TV used to go to public hangings for entertainment. These people would heckle and throw things at the people who were being put to death!
PEOPLE ARE VIOLENT!
We're less violent then we used to be, that's for sure. We're actually making progress.
Don't be an ass and think that violent video games and movies could 'desensitize' youngsters to violent acts.
BULLSHIT. If these youngsters want to sublimate their violent tendencies into a healthy aggression towards their opponent in a video game than that is actually a wonderful outlet for their natural violence.
PEOPLE ARE VIOLENT.
THEY ALWAYS HAVE BEEN.
IT IS NOT THE FAULT OF TV OR VIDEO GAMES.
What pisses me off the most is that these social scientist get grants to study that kind of bullshit too.
A waste of money if there ever was one.
I gotta get some food
You know, I was laying on my bed with my arms folded up under me, and I was at such an angle so that I could really feel my ribs under my arm.
So much so, in fact, that I got to thinking about one of those big sides of ribs that you can buy at the grocery store.
I was making myself hungry, feeling my ribs like that, and I got to wondering that if I was ever eaten by cannibals, would I be quality meat?
If cannibals ate me, would I be tasty? It's a hard question to answer, but worth asking.
It's a true fact that animals have a different flavor to their meat depending on what it is that they feed off of.
For instance, reports from people who have eaten rats living in New York City inform us of that fact that city rats are stringy and taste like garbage.
However, rats that feed off sugar cane in Jamaica have been reported to have a sweet flavor.
So clearly, a large portion of whether or not a rat is good to eat depends largely on where it hails from, and what the rat eats as its daily diet.
Because of this discrepancy in rat flavor, it makes me wonder what types of people a cannibal would look for when they were looking to score some dinner.
Cannibal tribes have told anthropologists that humans taste like pork.
In fact, humans are often referred to as 'long boned pork' in native circles.
If people taste like pork, it stands to reason that the same type of a diet pigs are given would produce relatively good meat in a human.
Since pigs mostly eat slop, I have to assume that most any human diet would probably be adequate when taking the flavor of human meat into consideration.
People who are strong and lean would most likely be tough and stringy.
However, a person who was over weight would probably produce fatty meat, although, the meat would probably be tender.
Since I don't eat very much anymore and I think I'm dying from starvation, I'll bet if someone cooked me and ate me, I'd be stringy.
I'm not very active though, so I bet I would relatively tender.
I'll bet I would be a tender, stringy meat. I might possibly be gamey too, since I am technically a wild animal.
I was looking the baby over, and I'll bet she'd be tender—like veal.
It's more than likely that her milk fed diet would produce a sweet meat, I'll bet.
I wonder what types of people cannibals usually look for?
I wonder if vegetarians are better to cook and eat, or if meat eaters have a better flavor?
I wonder if smoking cigarettes would affect the flavor of a person's meat?
These are good questions.
It's too bad the only cannibal I personally know of is Jeffrey Dahmer.
Jeffrey Dahmer gave cannibalism a bad name though.
I wouldn't want to ask someone like that how best to cook a human.
It would be far better to go and ask native peoples from cannibal tribes these questions.
So much so, in fact, that I got to thinking about one of those big sides of ribs that you can buy at the grocery store.
I was making myself hungry, feeling my ribs like that, and I got to wondering that if I was ever eaten by cannibals, would I be quality meat?
If cannibals ate me, would I be tasty? It's a hard question to answer, but worth asking.
It's a true fact that animals have a different flavor to their meat depending on what it is that they feed off of.
For instance, reports from people who have eaten rats living in New York City inform us of that fact that city rats are stringy and taste like garbage.
However, rats that feed off sugar cane in Jamaica have been reported to have a sweet flavor.
So clearly, a large portion of whether or not a rat is good to eat depends largely on where it hails from, and what the rat eats as its daily diet.
Because of this discrepancy in rat flavor, it makes me wonder what types of people a cannibal would look for when they were looking to score some dinner.
Cannibal tribes have told anthropologists that humans taste like pork.
In fact, humans are often referred to as 'long boned pork' in native circles.
If people taste like pork, it stands to reason that the same type of a diet pigs are given would produce relatively good meat in a human.
Since pigs mostly eat slop, I have to assume that most any human diet would probably be adequate when taking the flavor of human meat into consideration.
People who are strong and lean would most likely be tough and stringy.
However, a person who was over weight would probably produce fatty meat, although, the meat would probably be tender.
Since I don't eat very much anymore and I think I'm dying from starvation, I'll bet if someone cooked me and ate me, I'd be stringy.
I'm not very active though, so I bet I would relatively tender.
I'll bet I would be a tender, stringy meat. I might possibly be gamey too, since I am technically a wild animal.
I was looking the baby over, and I'll bet she'd be tender—like veal.
It's more than likely that her milk fed diet would produce a sweet meat, I'll bet.
I wonder what types of people cannibals usually look for?
I wonder if vegetarians are better to cook and eat, or if meat eaters have a better flavor?
I wonder if smoking cigarettes would affect the flavor of a person's meat?
These are good questions.
It's too bad the only cannibal I personally know of is Jeffrey Dahmer.
Jeffrey Dahmer gave cannibalism a bad name though.
I wouldn't want to ask someone like that how best to cook a human.
It would be far better to go and ask native peoples from cannibal tribes these questions.
Urban Sprawl
Urban sprawl really pisses me off. I can think of very few things that makes me angrier.
I actually had the privilege of watching the same documentary on urban sprawl on two separate occasions in two different classes.
I watched the video once in a sociology class, and then once again in an economics class.
Incidentally, the program was a PBS presentation. So I could have simply stayed at home and watched public television and would have been just as educated.
It's particularly tragic that I paid to watch the video, what with the tuition it costs to take a college course, when in all actually, I didn't even need to pay for the cost of cable TV in order to educate myself.
I could have done it for free.
Anyway, I digress.
The PBS documentary I saw twice was all about how the racial polarity of Detroit contributed to the god awful problem of urban sprawl Michigan now suffers from.
It seems as though, black people, in search of employment, migrated from the south to the north in droves, hoping to find work in the automobile industry.
As the black people moved into the city, however, the white people concluded that they didn't want to associate themselves with their new neighbors and so went about moving out of the cities and into the suburbs.
As more and more white people left the city, the funding the city once had dropped and the cities services began to decline. After the rich, the middle class white people began infiltrating the rich white areas, followed later by more affluent blacks.
This, of course, caused the racist white people to simply continue moving further out into the country side.
Meanwhile, the city these people had all abandoned began to become
ghetto like, with only poor people who could not afford to leave left behind.
Highways, and the automobile were also to blame for the urban sprawl that our nation is hell bent on ruining itself with, but in Michigan, our decimation of the country side has a great deal to do with racism.
It is also a true fact that it has long been noted by foreign peoples that Americans harbor some strange and queer hatred for trees. From day one our 'founding fathers' were out raping the land.
It is probably the case that the ignorance and hubris of the American people that would eventual cause the decimation of the country side was easily predicted by the Indians the first day those dipshit pilgrims stepped foot onto Plymouth Rock.
Squanto should have let the Pilgrims starve to death. And that's a fact.
However, the fact that the Pilgrims lived when the Indians should have left those bible thumping, puritanical morons to die doesn't really have anything to do with what I was talking about.
I just have a real bad hate on for the Pilgrims and every time I think about them I get pissed.
Anyway, the point is, is that the way in which our cities are structured is almost exactly the opposite of most European cities.
In Europe, it is my understanding that the very rich and affluent live in the heart of the city. Culture abounds in the downtown areas, with people going off to the theater, concerts, museums. . . . .Libraries and schools are well within the distance of convenient public transportation.
As you go further out of the city, the cultural opportunities begin to drop, the homes become less extravagant, and the incomes lower dramatically as you begin to approach the country side.
It is there in the country where the poor farmers live.
The poor farms raise animals in the fields, grow crops, and live off the land.
Here in America, people from the cities move out, thus abandoning the area altogether.
The rich leave behind the poor, and of course the poor have no money to
support much of anything, and so the schools become run down, the libraries are looted, and the abandoned theaters become 'crack houses'.
Slowly, more and more people find that they are forced to leave the city, due to violence and general degeneration, and so these people too follow in the footsteps of the rich.
Shocked and appalled at an encroachment of 'lesser people' into their area, the very rich then move further out.
Only of course to be followed at a later time by the rest of the people who must once again abandon their city.
Mean while, these idiots, who are retarded, roll over farmers, pave farm land, and piss every one off.
The way to go, of course, it to not be a racist asshole, and to stay in the city and stand your ground.
You should remain where you are and attempt to keep the quality of your city up to par rather than going and destroying the country side with your subdivisions.
These people who move their subdivisions out into the countryside are the ruination of the country.
Soon, the area I live in now at this time will no longer be 'country'.
Indeed, eventually, I predict that all of the United States of America will eventually be once sprawling, wretched city, with little pockets of farm land here and there that the god damn idiots forgot to roll over.
Urban sprawl pisses me off bad.
I actually had the privilege of watching the same documentary on urban sprawl on two separate occasions in two different classes.
I watched the video once in a sociology class, and then once again in an economics class.
Incidentally, the program was a PBS presentation. So I could have simply stayed at home and watched public television and would have been just as educated.
It's particularly tragic that I paid to watch the video, what with the tuition it costs to take a college course, when in all actually, I didn't even need to pay for the cost of cable TV in order to educate myself.
I could have done it for free.
Anyway, I digress.
The PBS documentary I saw twice was all about how the racial polarity of Detroit contributed to the god awful problem of urban sprawl Michigan now suffers from.
It seems as though, black people, in search of employment, migrated from the south to the north in droves, hoping to find work in the automobile industry.
As the black people moved into the city, however, the white people concluded that they didn't want to associate themselves with their new neighbors and so went about moving out of the cities and into the suburbs.
As more and more white people left the city, the funding the city once had dropped and the cities services began to decline. After the rich, the middle class white people began infiltrating the rich white areas, followed later by more affluent blacks.
This, of course, caused the racist white people to simply continue moving further out into the country side.
Meanwhile, the city these people had all abandoned began to become
ghetto like, with only poor people who could not afford to leave left behind.
Highways, and the automobile were also to blame for the urban sprawl that our nation is hell bent on ruining itself with, but in Michigan, our decimation of the country side has a great deal to do with racism.
It is also a true fact that it has long been noted by foreign peoples that Americans harbor some strange and queer hatred for trees. From day one our 'founding fathers' were out raping the land.
It is probably the case that the ignorance and hubris of the American people that would eventual cause the decimation of the country side was easily predicted by the Indians the first day those dipshit pilgrims stepped foot onto Plymouth Rock.
Squanto should have let the Pilgrims starve to death. And that's a fact.
However, the fact that the Pilgrims lived when the Indians should have left those bible thumping, puritanical morons to die doesn't really have anything to do with what I was talking about.
I just have a real bad hate on for the Pilgrims and every time I think about them I get pissed.
Anyway, the point is, is that the way in which our cities are structured is almost exactly the opposite of most European cities.
In Europe, it is my understanding that the very rich and affluent live in the heart of the city. Culture abounds in the downtown areas, with people going off to the theater, concerts, museums. . . . .Libraries and schools are well within the distance of convenient public transportation.
As you go further out of the city, the cultural opportunities begin to drop, the homes become less extravagant, and the incomes lower dramatically as you begin to approach the country side.
It is there in the country where the poor farmers live.
The poor farms raise animals in the fields, grow crops, and live off the land.
Here in America, people from the cities move out, thus abandoning the area altogether.
The rich leave behind the poor, and of course the poor have no money to
support much of anything, and so the schools become run down, the libraries are looted, and the abandoned theaters become 'crack houses'.
Slowly, more and more people find that they are forced to leave the city, due to violence and general degeneration, and so these people too follow in the footsteps of the rich.
Shocked and appalled at an encroachment of 'lesser people' into their area, the very rich then move further out.
Only of course to be followed at a later time by the rest of the people who must once again abandon their city.
Mean while, these idiots, who are retarded, roll over farmers, pave farm land, and piss every one off.
The way to go, of course, it to not be a racist asshole, and to stay in the city and stand your ground.
You should remain where you are and attempt to keep the quality of your city up to par rather than going and destroying the country side with your subdivisions.
These people who move their subdivisions out into the countryside are the ruination of the country.
Soon, the area I live in now at this time will no longer be 'country'.
Indeed, eventually, I predict that all of the United States of America will eventually be once sprawling, wretched city, with little pockets of farm land here and there that the god damn idiots forgot to roll over.
Urban sprawl pisses me off bad.
Controversial Topics Make a Brief Reappearance
You know, I don't believe in the death penalty.
And not because I think people shouldn't be killing other people either. I am well aware that sometimes killing someone really is your only option.
There are all sorts of different circumstances that could occur that may require killing another person. For instance, self defense comes to mind.
So, I'm not necessarily opposed to killing people per say.
What I'm against is killing people for punishment.
Why?
Because how do we know death is 'punishment' anyway?
Sure, every religion has its theories about what happens after death, but no one has got any actual proof.
There is absolutely not one single shred of evidence that killing someone is in anyway a punishment after that person is dead.
I'm sure waiting to be killed frightens people quite badly, of course. But after death, who knows what happens for sure?
No one who is currently alive knows this answer for a fact.
Of course, people have their theories. They have they're faith.
But they have no proof.
They have absolutely no physical evidence that they can present that says, "Hey, we know what's gonna happen to this serial killer after we kill him. We've photographic evidence and written statements about 'life on the other side'".
For all we know, criminals immediately become evil spirits after death, joining up with other evil spirits in order to become a force of evil that plagues our planet.
What's more is that, nice people die every day.
We don't conclude that people who die in what seem to be premature and untimely deaths are being 'punished'.
We call that 'God's will'.
What's more is that, why is it wrong to murder someone on your own initiative, but it's alright to kill someone if the State tells you its ok?
How does that make any sense at all?
If I got a one day pass from the Governor of my State to go on a shooting spree and kill all the 'bad people' would it really be alright to go killing people as long as I got permission first from the 'law'.
I would think murder would be murder no matter who gave me the go ahead.
This is a strange dichotomy that I can't wrap my mind around and I just cannot understand it.
I just can't help but to see strange double standards regarding this issue that do not appear to me to be quite fair.
Now I am aware that there are practical reasons for killing convicts.
It could be argued that tax payer money is saved by killing prisoners. However, tax payer money would also be saved by making prisoners work in slave camps, like I've suggested already millions of times.
We could save taxpayers a lot of money by stripping prisoners of the luxury items that they have, too.
And of course, if I was in charge, I'd strip them of pretty much everything.
For instance, I don't know why they keep giving convicts razors.
Those crazy idiots don't need any sharp objects.
Any person who could even potentially melt a toothbrush, stick a razor blade they pried from their safety razor into the heated plastic, and then hide their new 'weapon' in their rectum, does not need to shave that badly
I'm sorry, but if you do something like that, you don't get a razor anymore—end of discussion.
Hell, if you do something like that, I don't think I'd even give you another toothbrush.
In order to save on food costs, I am also a personal advocate of feeding all prisoners 'The Loaf', which Warden Thomas described in graphic detail on the Weekend Edition Saturday as a "Sort of a carrot-and stick approach to corrections. . . The carrots in this case are finely grated and mixed with wheat bread, fake cheese, spinach, beans, raisins and other ingredients and smells a little bit like the food they serve in the elephant cage at the National Zoo."
But how does it taste? "Blander than bland,"'
Why not just feed prisoners a balanced diet of vitamin enriched bread with a side of refuse and save everyone some money? That's what I think we should do anyway.
I for one don't think we should be spending a lot of money on convicts at all, so if we can bring the cost of keeping them down on the whole, killing them in order to save money really isn't a very good argument.
What's more is that, some convicts are innocent people. It's really bad when innocent people are put to death; only to have it found out later that they didn't commit the crime that they were charged with.
It's bad enough that innocent people have to sit and rot in prison cells while they desperately research law information pertaining to their case and curse their rotten attorneys or the bastards that set them up. But to kill them too as the 'ultimate punishment' seems really sad and wrong.
I'm just not for the death penalty. I don't think it's fair.
In most cases, I think being fed 'the loaf' everyday and working in a slave camp that I devised myself would be a fate worse than death anyway.
Prisoners would be lining up and asking people to shoot them in the head if I was in charge.
And not because I think people shouldn't be killing other people either. I am well aware that sometimes killing someone really is your only option.
There are all sorts of different circumstances that could occur that may require killing another person. For instance, self defense comes to mind.
So, I'm not necessarily opposed to killing people per say.
What I'm against is killing people for punishment.
Why?
Because how do we know death is 'punishment' anyway?
Sure, every religion has its theories about what happens after death, but no one has got any actual proof.
There is absolutely not one single shred of evidence that killing someone is in anyway a punishment after that person is dead.
I'm sure waiting to be killed frightens people quite badly, of course. But after death, who knows what happens for sure?
No one who is currently alive knows this answer for a fact.
Of course, people have their theories. They have they're faith.
But they have no proof.
They have absolutely no physical evidence that they can present that says, "Hey, we know what's gonna happen to this serial killer after we kill him. We've photographic evidence and written statements about 'life on the other side'".
For all we know, criminals immediately become evil spirits after death, joining up with other evil spirits in order to become a force of evil that plagues our planet.
What's more is that, nice people die every day.
We don't conclude that people who die in what seem to be premature and untimely deaths are being 'punished'.
We call that 'God's will'.
What's more is that, why is it wrong to murder someone on your own initiative, but it's alright to kill someone if the State tells you its ok?
How does that make any sense at all?
If I got a one day pass from the Governor of my State to go on a shooting spree and kill all the 'bad people' would it really be alright to go killing people as long as I got permission first from the 'law'.
I would think murder would be murder no matter who gave me the go ahead.
This is a strange dichotomy that I can't wrap my mind around and I just cannot understand it.
I just can't help but to see strange double standards regarding this issue that do not appear to me to be quite fair.
Now I am aware that there are practical reasons for killing convicts.
It could be argued that tax payer money is saved by killing prisoners. However, tax payer money would also be saved by making prisoners work in slave camps, like I've suggested already millions of times.
We could save taxpayers a lot of money by stripping prisoners of the luxury items that they have, too.
And of course, if I was in charge, I'd strip them of pretty much everything.
For instance, I don't know why they keep giving convicts razors.
Those crazy idiots don't need any sharp objects.
Any person who could even potentially melt a toothbrush, stick a razor blade they pried from their safety razor into the heated plastic, and then hide their new 'weapon' in their rectum, does not need to shave that badly
I'm sorry, but if you do something like that, you don't get a razor anymore—end of discussion.
Hell, if you do something like that, I don't think I'd even give you another toothbrush.
In order to save on food costs, I am also a personal advocate of feeding all prisoners 'The Loaf', which Warden Thomas described in graphic detail on the Weekend Edition Saturday as a "Sort of a carrot-and stick approach to corrections. . . The carrots in this case are finely grated and mixed with wheat bread, fake cheese, spinach, beans, raisins and other ingredients and smells a little bit like the food they serve in the elephant cage at the National Zoo."
But how does it taste? "Blander than bland,"'
Why not just feed prisoners a balanced diet of vitamin enriched bread with a side of refuse and save everyone some money? That's what I think we should do anyway.
I for one don't think we should be spending a lot of money on convicts at all, so if we can bring the cost of keeping them down on the whole, killing them in order to save money really isn't a very good argument.
What's more is that, some convicts are innocent people. It's really bad when innocent people are put to death; only to have it found out later that they didn't commit the crime that they were charged with.
It's bad enough that innocent people have to sit and rot in prison cells while they desperately research law information pertaining to their case and curse their rotten attorneys or the bastards that set them up. But to kill them too as the 'ultimate punishment' seems really sad and wrong.
I'm just not for the death penalty. I don't think it's fair.
In most cases, I think being fed 'the loaf' everyday and working in a slave camp that I devised myself would be a fate worse than death anyway.
Prisoners would be lining up and asking people to shoot them in the head if I was in charge.
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