The Wonderful World of Online Reviews and Other Assorted Subjectivity

black flag
I never realized just how entertaining Amazon reviews can be.  I went trolling online for reviews on a perfume I’ve been thinking about buying.  I like fragrances, even though I have to take a French bath in most colognes just to smell them at all. The only ones I can enjoy in slight doses are the really, really strong ones such as Liz Taylor’s Passion, Esteè Lauder’s Youth Dew or Opium.  I really like all three of those fragrances, although I don’t dare wear any of them, because Jerry says they all smell like a combination of “nursing home” and bug spray.
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So in my quest for more subtle scents, I check out the reviews, and stay away from the Dollar Store knock off shelf.  I have been assured by more than one person that the dollar store shit that is supposed to smell like Chanel No.5 (and it does- to me) really smells like a combo of Black Flag and drain cleaner.
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I did find an eau de toilette I found intriguing called Dahlia Noir by Givenchy, which I am going to try in spite of this review-
All I can say to this one is that I’m glad that I’m not “Dave’s” old lady:
2 of 3 people found the following review helpful
 on November 18, 2014
I got this for my lady friend. It covered up her stink real nice.
“Dave’s” review notwithstanding, his comment reminded me of something Jerry would say, which sort of swayed my decision toward buying it.  I am a believer in stringent personal hygiene, and I’m pretty uptight as far as observing stringent personal hygiene practices at all times.  I shouldn’t have a “stink.”  Even so, hygiene practices aside, one can’t be too careful about one’s olfactory impact upon others when one’s sense of smell is pretty much transitory and unreliable at best.  So I do like to indulge in wearing a sensible and pleasing fragrance- just in case.
***
vagisil
I’ve never been the outdoors type, and I hate to be dirty or to sweat.  So I’ve never really had a need for Vagisil, but if I did, this is the most glowing review I encountered:

18 of 20 people found the following review helpful

By Geekier than thou TOP 1000 REVIEWERVINE VOICE on August 28, 2004

Style Name: Original Size: 1 Ounce (Pack of 1)

It smells like burning fur, but who cares? If you’re out in the middle of the woods camping, or on a forever road trip and you haven’t had a chance to change your drawers in a day or two, chances are, your unmentionable areas are gonna get itchy. Some areas are more sensitive than others when it comes to persistent itching and scratching. Vagisil allows you to temporarily relieve the itch so you can concentrate on driving or sleeping instead of scratching your parts off.

Remind me to never put myself in a position where I don’t get to “change my drawers” and hose off at least from the waist down, Every Freaking Day. Some areas were never meant to be scratched.  If my nether area were to itch so bad I can’t drive, I think it’s time to see a doctor, not time to run out and buy some over the counter cream that smells like burning fur.
morality
Too bad a gauge like this doesn’t really exist.
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I have been accused at many points in my life of being highly subjective in my assessments, which is a bit ironic considering that I tend to be logical and pragmatic rather than emotional and flighty.
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Perhaps those assertions are based on the fact that I can have rather narrow parameters for passing a judgment or making a decision.  I make up my mind very quickly, and usually based upon the information I have on hand that I deem relevant at the moment.  I’m not one to hunt and peck or hem-haw around. The only disadvantage to that is that unless I make a conscious effort to do otherwise, I can be very closed minded and unwilling to try new things.  I know that a love of the familiar and a desire for order and routine go hand and hand with the way I’m wired, (oh, the joy of navigating the autistic landscape!) and sometimes I have to purposefully override familiarity, order and routine in order to learn anything, or to do anything fun.
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I think rigid would be a better word to describe my decision making process than subjective. 
mutter museum2
I realize that my tendency toward rigidity makes spontaneity almost impossible. The older I get, the more difficult spontaneity gets.  I’ve been meaning to take that day trip to the Mütter Museum in Philadelphia. It’s not necessary for me to take Steve-o with me, which is good because his schedule is nearly impossible (although he would thoroughly enjoy it.)  I’m not afraid to travel alone, and have done it before, so what’s the big deal about a 500 mile (one way) road trip?
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Yes, I would need to book a motel room as well as make my admission arrangements in advance. I would have to see that Jerry takes care of the dogs for a couple of days.  They have survived being alone with him before.  I’m really good at trip planning, and this one wouldn’t be terribly expensive… so why haven’t I done it yet?
***
True, I have never been to Philadelphia.  I am concerned about crime, such as carjacking, rape, robbery etc. because those things happen in densely populated urban areas, but crime is just as statistically likely to happen right here in central Ohio.  Granted, I know the times and areas to avoid here, but would the additional risk of being in an unfamiliar urban area be statistically significant?  Probably not.  I have traveled alone in the rural South which is statistically safer- but if you were to be a crime victim somewhere down in the hollers, let’s just say your body and/or your car may never be seen again.
***
I need to shut up and just go. The medical oddities await.

I Have No Patience Left—– An Open Letter to the Instant Gratification Generation

counttoone

Like a good number of techie-type people, I generally operate more efficiently (and with a lot less stress) when my interactions with fellow humans are simple, brief and (most importantly) few and far between.  The older I get, the less tolerance I have for doling out tedious and lengthy explanations.   The pisser is that it seems that the older I get, and the thinner my patience gets, the more stupid (and hence more needy of tedious and lengthy explanations) those around me seem to be.

lovelyscream

Perhaps it sounds hard-hearted and/or arrogant of me to point out that the average person is as dumb as a post, but it’s a hard truth.  I’ve said it before, and if I knew who came up with the phrase I would credit it, as credit is due: “Intelligence is a constant, the population is growing.”    Unfortunately, there are days when I just don’t have it in me to smile and explain the same thing thirty different ways just so that I might have a chance of relaying some tidbit of necessary information into some dullard’s thick skull that he/she might or might not retain for more than five minutes.

It probably doesn’t help that I work in a business in which I have to engage in tedious explanations all day long.  I have to explain to people why this goes with this, or why you can’t use that with that, or that such-and-such is discontinued, which means it is no longer being made. Discontinued means what it is you’re looking for is not available (unless you find someone with used or old stock) and it will never be available again.  Please get that through your thick skulls, people.  There’s a reason why you can’t get all-weather floor mats for an ’86 Chevette.  It may have something to do with the fact that if there were a surviving ’86 Chevette in Central Ohio, it would be very unlikely to still have floors.  Deal.  Better yet, move up into the 21st century.

onion nuggets

These just didn’t have the appeal of chicken nuggets apparently.

Either that or they hadn’t come up with the hot mustard sauce yet.

The problem with having to tell people that they can’t always get what they want, is that unlike MIck Jagger and company, I have to listen to the asinine reactions of the instant gratification generation when their desires are unable to be fulfilled.  All Day Long.  it wears on my brain.

Another thing that wears on my brain is the upcoming contingent of warm bodies emerging from (so-called) institutions of higher learning.  I’ve said it for years that political correctness is poison, and that there will be hell to pay for mollycoddling and insulating kids from anything difficult or challenging.  Face it, in the real world there is no medal for 12th place.

12th place

Not in my world.  Or yours, either.

Now that particular dirty bird- the concept that one is “special” simply due to being vertical and metabolizing valuable oxygen-  is coming home to roost, and it’s really sad.  Now we have people getting all butt-hurt over any kind of controversy or discourse- and people who are unwilling to accept the truth when it’s right out in the open, if that truth reflects the fact that there are inherent inequalities between people because let’s face it, life ain’t fair.

nba-basketball_00296980

Hypothetically, I may have had a life’s goal to be a center in the NBA. (No I didn’t, but this is a hypothetical scenario.)  The only problems with that goal are the realities: 1. I am as white and Anglo-Saxon as a person can possibly be and live. 2. I have physical motor deficits. 3. I’m female. and 4. I’m 5’4″.  Rather than lament that I can’t be a center in the NBA due to forces outside of my control, is it not in my best interest to choose a vocation that is better suited to my biological reality?  Why should I feel compelled to change my biology or to whine and cry that it’s not fair that white, uncoordinated, short females (who really aren’t even interested in basketball) can’t be centers in the NBA?

College campuses are no longer institutions of learning, where debate and open thought are encouraged.  They have become centers of artificially inflamed outrage over everything from perceived racial slurs to “gender inequality.”  Hmm, last time I checked, “race” is something different cultures pretty much made up. There’s plenty of different ethnicities and colors, but only one human race. There are generally two sets of human genitalia, and you either have one or the other.   It’s pretty rare (and not usually natural) to have both.

 outrage-logo1

I wonder what they’re pissed about now.  Most places have a “mystery gender” bathroom somewhere.

My first reaction to the “ooh, everything offends my precious little self,”  is, “what kind of horse shit is this?”  Then I remember my grandfather mocking the hippie generation for “going off to find themselves.”  His contention was that you shouldn’t need to “find yourself” if you’re sitting right in front of your face.

smell balls

“The Emperor’s New Clothes” is one of my favorite Aesop’s Fables.  I’m dating myself in admitting that I ever read such archaic children’s literature (today the Aesop’s Fables collection would prove far too “damaging” to impressionable young children and their precious little self-esteems,) but there were some valuable life lessons in those stories.  There were important lessons in those stories, such as, “the world doesn’t revolve around you,” and “actions have consequences.”

The emperor (and I’m not just referring to Obama, but the fact that someone of his level of extreme ineptitude and overwhelming vapidity is in a position of power and influence is an ominous sign of the times) has been stark raving naked for a long time.

Let’s call the truth the truth, and clean up the political correctness bullshit before Orwell’s visions become fulfilled in their entirety.

The Nexus of the Crisis, and the Origin of Storms

hindenburg

I wish I would have thought of the title line, but it’s actually from a song by Blue Oyster Cult (later covered by Metallica) called “Astronomy.” It’s probably a good thing I don’t have (and I certainly don’t need, nor want) access to the psychotropic drugs that were available in the mid 1970s, but people came up with some hella cool song lyrics while stoned on that stuff.  Now it seems the pop stars and rappers are more worried about whether or not the words rhyme, and/or if cop-killing and sister-raping can be successfully included in the story line.  Apparently today’s drugs just don’t motivate good song lyrics.

I like that old psychedelic stuff.  The song lyrics, that is.

I found last Saturday’s short hiatus and respite to be most energizing.  I love it when I can turn off the world for awhile, and I need to do it a lot more often than I do.

Tonight I have to do something rather distasteful, although it does involve a short solitary road trip (that part of the adventure should be pretty good.)  I have probably at one time or another told the story of my grandmother’s twin sisters – the ones who, when my great-grandmother died, were about 70 years old. The both of them were rather eccentric, and their tastes were largely indulged, as they were both married to relatively wealthy men.  I never really liked either of them very much, but I acquired a little bit of contempt toward them when they got in a fist fight over my great-grandmother’s paltry belongings.

01351~Muffled-Screams-Posters

70 year old twins duking it out over a bunch of worthless old lady kitsch is a little bit over the top.   I’ve walked past better stuff at garage sales.  Great-Grandma was not a wealthy woman, and she didn’t need a lot of stuff.  None of her stuff was particularly valuable.  Neither of the twins needed any of that stuff.  It was about possession and control.  I was never close to either of my great-aunts, and after that I never really wanted to be.

Witnessing that little melee convinced me that I never want to fight over dead people’s stuff, even if it’s really good stuff.  My sisters will cannibalize my parents’ stuff, should they both outlive my parents, and they will fight over it, though the oldest one will ultimately end up with everything she wants.  If I am still alive, I won’t be there to stand back and watch.  They can have it all.  My Dad had to hide a lot of Grandma’s stuff- as well as all of Grandpa’s WWII medals and other memorabilia- to keep my oldest sister from taking everything.  What she wants, she takes.  Unless she can’t find it.

dropdead

The only reason I don’t drop dead is that I don’t think my son can stand the visual of my sisters fighting over my bras and underwear.

The older twin (I think she was 98) finally went to the Great Beyond last Saturday, and the calling hours are tonight.  I can’t take off work tomorrow to go to the funeral (OK by me) but I at least have to show up at the calling hours to keep my mother from having a coronary, and so Dad might have one sane person to talk to.  Mom’s relatives are downright weird, and they are the huggy-kissy type which is positively nauseating to me.  But politeness dictates.. so I will show up.  Briefly.  Very briefly.

I wish funeral homes had drive-thrus.  I don’t think the idea would catch on in Ohio, where people make a really big deal out of funerals and wakes, but I wish that at least that the one I have to go to tonight had a drive-thru.  Sign the book and get the hell out…

drive thru funeral

Deep and Philosophical Questions- Or Not!

spongebob tampon

I just about spit coffee out my nose when I saw this meme.

twinkie

Which one will last longer?  My carcass or an unopened Twinkie?

It is fabled that Twinkies will last over thirty years if unwrapped, but the official word from the Hostess company is that they only have a shelf life of 45 days.  I may only have a shelf life of 45 days. Who knows?

Jerry has a thing for Twinkies right now, which is good because at least there is something he will eat.  I’ve never seen anyone as picky about food in my life.  I shouldn’t lose my patience so easily with him because I know he is dealing with chronic pain and illness, but sometimes he can really get on my last nerve.  I don’t play well with others to begin with, so I have to cut him some slack.  It helps if I get a bit of ivory tower time so I can recharge and don’t have to be constantly on guard.  That’s my particular weakness- I can only deal with the rest of humanity in very small doses.  Age and time is not improving that peculiarity of mine at all. If anything I need more time alone to simply stay sane, and that is a disturbing trend.

stfu!

I  don’t know it all.  But shutting up is usually a default for me.  I’m really good at the silent treatment.

Jerry went to the campground and won’t be back until tomorrow.  So I am enjoying a little secret pleasure of blasting some Metallica (which he can’t stand.)  Normally I am not a hard core metal head- but I have my moments.  I’ll probably switch back to some Journey or some of Neal Schon’s solo stuff in awhile to mellow out.  But for now, I am having some fun with James Hetfield asking the question, “Am I Evil?”  Yes.  Humanity is evil.  There you go.

jameshetfield

James Hetfield can actually sing rather than scream.

meow

littering and

Smokin’ the Reefer…

I think weed should not only be legal, they should just hand it out randomly.  Pass it around like the junk mail circulars one gets in the mail every day. Why?  Do potheads go out and commit random crime?  Hell no. They get mellow, call the pizza dude, eat everything in the fridge and then blissfully pass out.  Nice and mellow and thank God, quiet.  Potheads aren’t out there doing violent crime.  They’re on the couch, laughing their ass off to whatever History Channel documentary (the all- Hitler-all-the-time-network, I think sometimes) or whatever Monty Python flick they can find on Netflix.  Until they pass out at about 8 or 9 pm.  That’s my kind of partier.

I can’t wait for the state of Ohio to get with the 21st century and legalize pot.  I don’t care for pot at all- it makes me tired and hungry and depressed.  I’ve not bothered with pot since I was in college back in the 80s.  I have a hard enough time staying awake without smoking something that puts me to sleep.  I never enjoyed the pot buzz, but I can clearly see the advantages of smoking pot for people like Jerry who are both hyper and deal with chronic pain. It could even help with him chronically being an asshole late at night.  Smoking a nice big bowl of ganga might be enough for him to settle down and shut up and pass out early so I can get some sleep.  I don’t do late nights worth a shit, and I’m really tired of getting woke up at all hours of the night listening to him whine and bitch- and play Eminem.

legalize-medical-marijuana

Reason #11-

So Jerry can get high, pass out early and I can get some mother effing sleep!

Dismay? Silent Pragmatism? Disgust? Futility?- Or Just a Normal Day?

constipation wretched

There is much to be said for regularity.

I don’t know if I should be happy, sad or just pragmatic as usual.  I stopped believing in all the “happily ever after” bullshit when I was about four and first came to the realization that I am not that princess in the pretty cartoon- just an awkward, troll-proportioned, scared-shitless, nearsighted wearer of threadbare hand-me-downs.  I may have upgraded the faςade over the years, but facts are facts.  Cinderella may have had a benefactor, but there was never going to be a “fairy godmother” in my world.  I’m glad I came to the realization that I am not one of the golden people early on.

Take what you can get and be satisfied, because in order to be successful at fishing, one has to have bait.  And I never did.

fishing

Speaking of what can be trolled up from the depths, I learned why I am loathe to take time off from work even though I have way too many vacation days, and I usually don’t take them.  I took two sanity days- Tuesday and yesterday- and made the mistake of thinking that I might actually get some sleep yesterday.  I should have known that Jerry’s main goal in life is to drink as much beer as he can and to keep me awake whenever possible at all costs.  I don’t know how to react to yet another late night of “let’s get drunk and stupid and loud and play Eminem (barf, gag, retch) full blast until 2 AM.”  Dismay?  Silent pragmatism? Disgust? Anger? Frustration? Futility?  And it strikes me really odd that a 58 year old could get into someone as banal and potty mouthed as Eminem.  Even Steve-o got disillusioned with Eminem rather quickly- and this was when the illustrious Steve-o was about 12.

pragmatism

I give the .357 to no one. Nor do I let them know where it’s stashed.

Even when I’m feeling like being banal, the worst I can stomach is the Ramones, or maybe Steel Panther (they’re crude, but in a funny way)- and never in the middle of the night.

steelpanther2

Ok, so they’re known for a song called “Gang Bang at the Old Folks Home.”  At least that’s funny.

The rational side of my brain asks me (and often) why in the flying hell I stay married to an impotent, beer-soaked asshole who generally treats me like shit.  The rational side answers back, “because I can’t afford to leave,” which is partially true.  It wouldn’t be true, however, if I weren’t paying for a lot of his stuff such as groceries, scripts, health insurance, etc. and so on. Generally the emotional side doesn’t have much commentary other than to know that the whole business of relationships is pretty much a dead issue for me.  If I had sufficient cash I’d live alone- and probably should.

cat lady

Cats ask few questions, and demand so little.

cat cuddles

Never confuse “love” with “heat seeking.”

I shouldn’t even let the emotional side of my brain get in on the discussion, because the only emotion I can bring myself to feel for Jerry anymore is pity.  I know he has rheumatoid arthritis and pulmonary fibrosis and he needs a lot of help just to function.  On one side it would be cruel and possibly even un-Christian to simply abandon him, but on the other, I can really see where I’m chained to dead weight.

Monday (8-10) is our 20th anniversary.  I am not in a celebratory mood.  About the only reaction I’m having to that is that I find it hard to believe I’ve pretty much thrown away 20 years.  But on the plus side…wait…I’m trying to think of a plus side. That should keep me busy for awhile.

i-dont-regret-my-past

I should have spent more time alone.  Weird thing to say, but in my case, probably true.

I can’t change the past but I can try to find ways to amuse myself now so I don’t completely go nuts.

right and wrong

Sometimes I just can’t tell.

Politically Incorrect, Fashion Forward, and More Things I Shouldn’t Do

old people in bad shirts

Sometimes I have to wonder when I see old people wearing stuff like this. I’d bet Nixon was in office the last time this dude gave a mustache ride.  The chick in the “virgin” t-shirt probably lost it sometime around V-E Day.   Do they really read the t-shirts, or do they just put something on because it’s clean?  Or do they just put something on because they’re going to be painting, or varnishing, or prancing around in dirty things so they really don’t care?

When I wear snarky t-shirts (and I wear them a lot) I usually have my snark-effect planned out. I want people to wonder when they see me in a shirt that says, “Only Trust People Who Like Big Butts, They Cannot Lie.”  The “big butt” comment is even funnier when the reader of the shirt realizes that I am, shall we say, “bootily challenged.”  I have the flattest, most non-existent white-bread ass on the planet. Except maybe for my illustrious son.

If that’s the story behind these oldsters’ fashions, more power to them.  Keep ’em wondering.

For the younger set, Nixon was in office from 1969-1974. As far as American presidents go, Nixon gets a bad rap.  The dude was a choir boy compared to Bill Clinton, and a veritable saint when compared to the current illegitimate occupant of the White House.  But get me started on the detestable Barry O., and my rants can go on for days.

  Voter-Fraud-21

V-E Day (the day Allied victory was won in Europe) is May 8, 1945. The more I think about it, I bet a lot of people lost their virginity on V-E Day.  I can’t really correlate Nixon’s presidency with mustache rides, (I know when I think “sexy,” Richard Nixon doesn’t come to mind) other than to comment that in the 1970’s almost all VD was curable.

stamp out vd2

Sit on your ass and keep your mouth shut. That’s not terribly heroic, but it is 100% effective in preventing all forms of VD!

I wonder if it is considered offensive to refer to Germans as “Huns” (generally a WWI reference) or “Krauts” (generally a WWII reference) or is it OK to use either term- because Germans are white?

I know that the term “Cracker” is considered derisive (in some circles) when directed at white people from the American South, but when did it become gauche to make fun of rednecks?  It seems rednecks are the only socio-ethnic group that it’s OK to malign.

offended yoda

It’s time to stop worrying about offending people.

Speaking of which….In spite of myself, I really like Donald Trump.  I don’t know if I would really want him to be President (although I would gladly prefer my dead dog Sheena over the current illegitimate squatter) but I do like him speaking the truth and rocking the boat.  HIs politically incorrect approach is refreshing, if nothing else. There are people who need to be offended, and who need to have their heads pulled out of their asses.  If we haven’t learned anything else from the debacle of the Obama Administration, we should know that we need to call a turd a turd.  Those who don’t get it that the “Emperor” is naked – as well as being morally bankrupt and an aider and abettor of terrorism to boot- richly deserve a wake up call.    If Trump accomplishes that, more power to him.  The only thing I don’t want to see is a replay of Ross Perot, who in a roundabout way (another 20th century history lesson, kiddies) bought us eight long years of Bill Clinton.

baskit-asphalt

If it’s cylindrical, brown, and left by the cat, it is best to assume the item is NOT a Tootsie Roll.

My cats are generally really good about using their boxes, and most cats are unless you let the boxes go too long or the cat is sick or something.  Healthy cats usually don’t have much trouble shitting where they’re supposed to.  Of course, the cats have the basement to themselves, with a small (too small for dogs) cat door so they can come and go downstairs as they need,. locker room

I didn’t generate this meme. I’m enough of a grammar Nazi to know that the author should have used “to” instead of “too.”

Still, it’s a good point.

I can use the men’s locker room and watch the sausage show.  Or not.  It would be my luck that the guys who wear Speedos but who should be wearing Bermudas would be showering.  I’d get a big old eyeful of something like this:

fat man in speedo

Better for me to shower in the women’s – and dress modestly behind the curtain.

Opinions, Assholes, and Whatever Floats Your Boat

wpid-mustang-owners.jpg.jpeg

I can’t help it.  But if the cars/owners involved were Camaros or Corvettes, that would be even funnier.

I don’t think that I will ever be shocked again.  It’s been awhile since anything really shocked me.  There aren’t too many things that really rattle me.  The problem is that the things that do rattle me really rattle me.

wpid-gender-neutral-sign-se-5789.png.cf_.jpg

With the exception of rare genetic or congenital anomalies, gender is male or female.

Pick one.  Preferably the one that matches your plumbing.

I can’t say that I am celebrating in the streets or bathing my profile pic in a rainbow colored filter on Facebook. Nor am I shouting doom and gloom and proclaiming the end of the world because now Adam and Steve (or Annie and Eve) can get “married.”  Personally I believe that same sex relations are wrong in any context (and to me, positively vile)- but so are opposite sex relations out of their proper context (but I’ve been there with the heterosexual fornication and done that, hypocrite that I can be.)  I am not the Judge, nor do I want to be.  I’m guilty of “doing it wrong” too, just in a different way.

gay wedding

Two dudes.  Wonder who will clean up the piss splatters around the john?

However,  I don’t make a hobby of rubbing my straightness in everyone’s face and Making Them Like It.  I even use the term straightness almost lightly, as “asexual” is probably closer to what I am now.  I really don’t have any desire for physical contact with anyone.  I don’t like strange people touching me, and it’s been more years than I’d like to admit since I did anything other than sleep (or watch TV) in bed. The older I get the more averse to such things I become.

nosex marriage

Even so, if you have found your “soulmate,” and you want to have at it like rabbits in heat, whether it be male, female, mechanical, inflatable, or gerbil, I don’t care.  Maybe I am a bitter, old, frustrated bitty, but I just don’t want to hear about it.  That’s in the same category as wondering whether or not your grandparents still have sex.  Some things should remain a mystery.

I don’t care if you have the hots for a ’93 Ford Escort.  I really don’t care how people get their jollies for the most part, or who they choose to land in bed with, or why.

It only bothers me when you expect me to call it normal.

world rabies day

You celebrate your holidays, I’ll celebrate mine.

I do have to wonder about the World Rabies Day thing.  Is this observation a call to inform people about rabies and to prevent the spread of rabies?  I can’t imagine anyone wanting to celebrate Rabies, but there are some real freaks out there.

In all seriousness, I don’t believe anything good or healthy is going to come out of legalizing same-sex marriage.  I don’t think it’s healthy to teach children that this an acceptable lifestyle.  I don’t want my grandchild witnessing gay groping and make-out fests in public.  Celebrating same-sex attraction to me is sort of like celebrating heart disease or cancer- or getting excited about rabies.  We know things like heart disease or cancer or some things that some people do in the bedroom (gay OR straight) are not good for you, and eventually any of those things can kill you- but then human beings can be destroyed by things that society has traditionally condoned.

For instance, overwork can kill you- (been really close to that one) but nobody has ever gone to great lengths to morally condemn those who live to work even though that can be just as much idolatry- and positively poison to your physical, spiritual and mental health as anything else.  Nobody really puts up an argument to exclude or demonize the addicted-to-work.  Especially when that work-addicted person is doing your work for you.

Overeating can kill you- and gluttony is a sin- but do we actively seek to exclude and shame the fat?  If fat shaming really worked, we would be a nation of Calista Flockharts, and I don’t see that happening.

wpid-fat-and-lazy.png.png

Fanny is allowed to experience the feline lifestyle.  Fat and lazy is OK- for cats.

Perhaps the silver lining in the gay marriage movement is maybe the whole gay pride in-your-face attitude will become passé and less “trendy” now that it’s legal. Nothing serves so much as a buzz kill than making something once forbidden legitimate.

Maybe that’s why I pretty much gave up binge drinking by age 23.

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Sometimes Mom does not realize the absolutely horrendous double entendre she brings up.