tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-63747776412748814192024-02-18T21:10:57.421-05:00.Ssejicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07555754699992063077noreply@blogger.comBlogger163125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6374777641274881419.post-10281359621069406142015-06-08T12:31:00.000-04:002015-06-08T12:54:59.656-04:00...I did it My Way...I got to thinking about the continuation of this blog, starting up again and trying to differentiate the person that was and the person that is. I made the executive decision that this blog can no longer sustain the person that is going through this transitional period. The sass versus the mysticism, the crass versus the kind, the loathing versus the loving. See what I mean?<br />
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I've got this way of ruminating over my past writings that makes me kind of crazy...or maybe kind of conceited (as I mentioned before). So out with the old, as they say, and onto a platform that can contain the sheer magnitude of this momentous occasion of the self-crowning of a new age divorcee. (I'll keep the chanting to a minimum, I promise).<br />
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www.thebrillianceofresilience.blogspot.com<br />
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The name? Kind of hokey, I know, but at my women's retreat a wonderful and quite spiritual crone relayed that message to the newly crowned sister crones and I've repeated those words ad nauseum. AD NAUSEUM!<br />
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So I get Universe...<br />
<br />Ssejicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07555754699992063077noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6374777641274881419.post-72938298710130521492015-06-05T12:45:00.001-04:002015-06-05T12:45:26.060-04:00Mama Didn't Say There Would be Days Like This<div class="MsoNormal">
I’ve wanted to get back to the ‘ole blog so many times since
I last stopped writing that it is almost painful to start up again. I would
think about it from time-to-time and I would try to understand the myriad of
things that has happened to me in the last nine-ish months that would prompt a
cathartic writing process. I’ve been told countless times by my therapist that
journaling is a way that so many people deal with the stressors of their lives
and they find great solace in reading their words during less depressed or
manic times and they take pride in understand how they got through it. I guess
it hasn’t really hit me until this very moment that that would probably work
for me, as my little conceited self likes to look back at what I’ve written
with pride. Hey, it beats heroin, right? <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I think that I’ve struggled so deeply in the last nine
months to try to understand what is going on in my life that a public display
of emotion is something that will help my stars align, so to speak, and will
help me understand that my feelings can be those that are shared by other
people…or with other people. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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<div class="MsoNormal">
So for anyone reading this that doesn’t know me personally
(or maybe you do know me personally and we just haven’t had the chance to catch
up), you’re probably wondering…what the heck is going on in her life? Well,
most first and most notably I’ve separated from my husband after nine years of
being together and almost five years of marriage, and I’ll tell you…NO ONE told
me how painful that would be. Even in the face of a time of unhappiness
garnished by an event that threw me over the edge, I still had no idea that a
separation could be so innately soul-crushing even while you’re trying to put
on a face of bravery and ease. No one told me how dealing with the un-twining
of an intertwined life could be so weird and foreign, and how losing a
lifestyle could be so insanely liberating and so insanely death-defying all at
once. Yeah, I’ve known lots of people that have separated/divorced, including
my maternal grandmother that divorced when it wasn’t cool and lived most of her
life as an independent single woman, but even the women that I’ve been closer
with than anyone in my life couldn’t have prepared me for how I’d feel about
the whole thing. I guess this is the kind of feeling that people say you just
have to experience. Let’s never do that again, okay? Secondly, I’ve moved back
home with my parents. At first (and admittedly from time-to-time), I’ve looked
at this situation as a sign of stepping backward or defeat or whatever this
country has conditioned me to feel about returning to the womb, but I’ve
decided to take the approach heralded by so many other countries and look at
living with my family as an opportunity to get to know them better and to have
a shared experience. Let’s face it…living with your parents can be extremely
fun. Living with your parents can also be extremely bizarre as an adult, but
these days, I’m choosing to look at this glass as half full because looking at
it half empty has never gotten me anywhere. Thirdly, I’ve completely fallen off
the wagon of exercise and diet. Let’s face it…I had other fish to fry at that
point, and though there are some women that find it really easy to hunker down
and stick to their diets even more through a series of unfortunate events, I’m
not one of them. I’m not proud of this truth, but it is my truth, and the
sooner that I deal with it, the sooner that I can begin again. I feel as though I’ve let the biggest sigh
escape from my body and that maybe this is the beginning of the newest part of
my life. All because of a little blog not unlike a bazillion blogs out there
that women are writing to explore every facet of what it’s like to be woman. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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<div class="MsoNormal">
It’s pretty cool that this would happen to me today, as I am
slated to go to a weekend-long women’s retreat this evening and I’m pretty darn
excited about it. The line-up of activities and speakers looks great and the
ability to know that there are other women in my space that could help me heal
is incredibly uplifting…even in its prospect. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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Here's to 2015Ssejicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07555754699992063077noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6374777641274881419.post-75601420194841208162014-07-19T20:51:00.001-04:002014-07-19T20:52:28.764-04:00World Peace is None of My BusinessI think I secretly knew better than to schedule a trip to Hershey, PA to see the tour that coincided with the tenth studio album of one Mister Stephen Patrick Morrissey. Not that I'm particularly prone to psychic revelations or anything, but after a less-than-adequate (ahem) touring record, the news that he would not be gracing the stage of the town o' chocolate did not come as any kind of shock. Crisis and broken heart averted, I eagerly received <i>World Peace is None of Your Business</i> from my husband and step-daughter as a present.<br />
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Morrissey's touring woes aside, the live performances that did go on and the albums that were released were always top-notch. I vividly remember closing my eyes during his recreation of, "Death of a Disco Dancer," on the <i>Ringleader of the Tormentors</i> tour and feeling as though I were transported through time to a lithe and Smiths-backed Morrissey youthfully debuting his creation for the first time. I unabashedly cried both times I saw his entrance onto stage because I knew that each time could be the last time...each album could be the last album before retirement. To receive WPINOYB was doubling thrilling. </div>
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After 2009's <i>Years of Refusal, </i>I was so pleased with the stride that Morrissey had hit. Unlike so many aging artists that release albums that grasp at the straws of times gone by, his lyrics were relevant and charming while still having the sting of his acerbic wit. How then, could we fail with this 2014 release? </div>
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I don't know, ask him.</div>
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WPINOYB is musically terribly boring, lyrically flippant (even for Morrissey) and socially irritating. To add insult to injury, he's had the unmitigated GALL to feature Kristeen Young on backing vocal for several songs. THE Kristeen Young whom he blamed for making him so ill that he had to cancel his tour. When I saw Kristeen Young perform I have to say that I felt ill as well, not to mention having the complete hankering to throw rotten tomatoes on the stage. </div>
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<br /></div>
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Admittedly, I listened to the album for the first time in the car and chalked up my feelings to not paying attention to lyrics and musical subtlety. I tried it again just today (and a third time as I type) from beginning to blessed end, and I felt strongly enough to blog about it's utter stinkosity. TO BLOG ABOUT IT, PEOPLE. </div>
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Although his voice is as angelic as ever, getting through things like rhyming "fool" with "fool," and using the couplet "Beef-a-ronie/ah but lonely," stunk of painted-on-cleverness that used to flow so effortlessly from a man that I would consider a lyrical genius. In the track that features the aforementioned couplet("I'm Not a Man"), he croons about being a man in some kind of, as Dustin put it, finger-wagging way. In fact, Morrissey's finger wags into goddamned some kind of constantly-repeating oblivion. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Earth is the loneliest planet of all</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Earth is the loneliest planet of all</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>day after day you say "one day"</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>day after day you say "one day"</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>but you're in the wrong place</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>and you've got the wrong face</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>and humans are not really very humane</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>and Earth is the loneliest planet of all</i></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Rolling Stone said something like, this album is stronger than Morrissey fans anticipated...which, doesn't really mean anything except that the music industry thinks that Morrissey is old and superimposes that opinion on Morrissey fans who were coming off the high of <i>Years of Refusal</i> and were hungry for more. Rolling Stone also said that the two "stunning" tracks on this album were "Mountjoy" and "Oboe Concerto," so I give them an extra listen just now and find a bit of solace in lyrics that show shades of Morrissey, </div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>A swagger hides the fear in here</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>by this rule we all breathe</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>and there is no one upon this earth </i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>whom I'd feel sad to leave</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i></div>
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And music that haunts me a bit like maybe "Suffer Little Children" or, as I mentioned before, "Death of a Disco Dancer." </div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
One of the last lines of the closing track, "Oboe Concerto," references his drinking to absent friends and it makes me a little heartbroken that this may be his swansong. If this is the last studio album, please let there be a cache of unreleased material that doesn't feature a fifteen minute version of "Kiss Me A lot."</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>and the rhythm of life goes 'round.</i></div>
Ssejicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07555754699992063077noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6374777641274881419.post-14946207023696290182014-07-06T17:14:00.000-04:002014-07-06T17:14:08.482-04:00...Hobbling...It's Sunday afternoon and I'm dreading work again...so what better way to pass the time between loads of laundry than to read a zillion blog posts on tumblr about the Hobby Lobby decision. To add another layer of emotion on an already fragile psyche, I suppose, I must write something about this ruling before I burst.<br />
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There are countless people citing religious freedom as the reason that Hobby Lobby is a purveyor of unmitigated righteousness. There are, also, countless photos of "morally upstanding" people picketing for the craft store's freedom to run their business with as much Bible-thumping as they want. In fact, I'm sure that Hobby Lobby will go down in history with the likes of Chick-fil-a and Curves as businesses that, to some, are on the "right" side of freedom for the American people and Capitalism.<br />
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I was probably a little more than shocked by the SCOTUS decision to allow Hobby Lobby to cease coverage of certain types of birth control in favor of their Religious proclivities. Not because I'm Pro-Choice, not because I'm a Feminist and not because I'm not a Christian. ONLY because I have a basic understanding of the law of precedence.<br />
<br />
This ruling opens the door for every zealot citing religious freedom and business to pick and choose what medical procedures they choose to cover based upon their own teachings and belief systems. Is are the Justices not cognizant of this fact? Are they not aware of the legal door that they've opened?<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.nydailynews.com/opinion/hobby-lobby-dangerous-precedent-article-1.1850461" target="_blank">The New York Daily News says it best in this article, stating, "Hobby Lobby is the most sweeping religious exemption case in modern constitutional history."</a><br />
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Without sounding like a disrespectful non-believer, I'm having a hard time wondering where the courts will draw the line. Serpent-handling? Prayer in opposition to all modern medicinal treatment? These are viable options to some religious groups and frightening prospect to potential employees of religiously convicted employers.<br />
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As I read through the tumblr posts, a lot of those (conservatives) that sided with HL stated that if an employee wanted to use the types of birth control that were not to be covered, they could either buy the contraceptives out of pocket, or they could find a job with an employer that would cover said contraceptives.<br />
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The first point is something that flies in the face of the basic principle of "One Nation, Under God." I suppose it's really only one nation if you believe the same things and have the same moral ideals as those that have been self-appointed to the path of total and unequivocal religious truth. There's no room for differences here, folks, either you believe what I do, or you're some kind of flag-burning faggot, right?<br />
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The second point is probably my favorite. As a nation that hovers just a few points away from ten percent of it's population being unemployed, I love that just finding another job is even on the radar as a viable option for those that just want their own reproductive decisions to be respected and valued. Conservatives often whip out this philosophy to try to imply that those that want tolerance and justice for their own moral beliefs are just too lazy and willing to take hand-outs from the government. You know, like medications being covered by their insurance policies that they help to pay for with their own income.<br />
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One question that burns in my mind is, what if Hobby Lobby was owned by a Muslim that wanted to impose the basic beliefs of the Quran on those employees that may not share the same religious belief system? I can venture to bet that the same zealots would come to the aid of those employees that wanted freedom from their "oppressor," citing the same rhetoric that now bars women from having the right to choose the method of birth control that is right for them.<br />
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As the Fourth of July weekend comes to a close, I'm left to wonder what will happen next. What retrograde policies will ensnare this country in the name of freedom?Ssejicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07555754699992063077noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6374777641274881419.post-23631413456467710382014-07-06T13:54:00.002-04:002014-07-06T13:54:23.973-04:00I've listened to this song at least six times since last night.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />Ssejicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07555754699992063077noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6374777641274881419.post-35964886944675927112014-07-04T20:49:00.000-04:002014-07-04T20:49:15.432-04:00It's Independence Day!Some images to celebrate 'Merica.<br />
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<a href="http://pengiun12.deviantart.com/art/MERICA-330005067" target="_blank">Because 'Merica</a><br />
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<a href="http://thefunniestpictures.com/fun/merica/" target="_blank">Land of the free, and the home of the brave!</a><br />
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<a href="http://i75.photobucket.com/albums/i288/peefandnub/merica2.jpg" target="_blank">Freedom isn't Free</a><br />
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<a href="http://skreened.com/rightside/gun-totin-merica-lovin-republican-camo-shirt" target="_blank">Apple Pie</a><br />
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<a href="http://diylol.com/meme-generator/merica--11/memes/we-piss-where-we-want-merica" target="_blank">My home...sweet...home!</a><br />
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Happy Fourth you fuckers!Ssejicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07555754699992063077noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6374777641274881419.post-12531115960988742792014-03-02T13:07:00.003-05:002014-03-02T13:07:36.947-05:00RebirthI did something that I thought I would never do: I made a New Year's Resolution. In February. It's a typical one.<br />
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<i>This year, I said to myself, I'm really going to start thinking about my weight and what I can do to become a healthier person. </i><br />
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I've never made a "real" New Year's Resolution before, especially as late as February first. I've always long forgotten about them and settled into a state of complacency with comfort food and general winter lethargy that comes with Post-Christmas snow and cold. While warmth worshipers are counting the days until the Equinox and the buds on the trees, I'm relishing in the general hibernation that comes with January, February and early March. With this state of mind, I must say that the state of my pants cutting off my circulation became a clear reality. I bought some new pants with a bit of shame and resignation, and told no one that I'd graduated into another size of plus.<br />
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I didn't tell my therapist, which went against my general rule of sharing everything with her. I felt like the grade-schooler that hid and ate crackers out of my parents' eyes or the teen that made a sandwich and then secretly fed it to the dog while harboring a case of anorexia that lead to rapid weight loss between my junior and senior year of high school. Everyone was so proud of the weight that I'd lost then. What an accomplishment, they said. The weight crept back on, and the difficulties crept back up: the back aches, the knee aches, the trouble climbing the stairs without being winded, the inability to find clothes that fit my frame...the list goes on ad nauseum. Now weighing more than I'd ever weighed in my life, the "secret" was clearly out in every photo, scale, and shirt I tried.<br />
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I read a book in January, "The Four Agreements," by don Miguel Ruiz. Each Agreement is simple and succinct:<br />
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<i>1. Be Impeccable With Your Word</i><br />
<i>2. Don't Take Anything Personally</i><br />
<i>3. Don't Make Assumptions</i><br />
<i>4. Always Do Your Best</i><br />
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Each Agreement, too, weighed heavy on my heart as I tried to incorporate them into my everyday life. Each stuck with me and still does, but...<i>Always Do Your Best</i>. What was my best?<br />
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What I was doing with my life wasn't my best.<br />
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With this realization, came what seemed like a chance to change my life. I guess it's so much more than a resolution, but a complete paradigm shift that started with my relationship with food and exercise. It also became a very public shift that added a sense of accountability that I'd never had before. I decided to stop living to eat and start eating to live. I made the decision to move my body and really...fight for my life.<br />
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It's only been a month, but the changes are great and my body is really starting to catch up with my mind and for once, I feel like I can do this. I can stop making excuses and share my thinly-veiled secrets.<br />
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My paradigm can be reborn.<br />
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<br />Ssejicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07555754699992063077noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6374777641274881419.post-48367064253942308622013-10-14T15:40:00.003-04:002013-10-14T15:40:57.476-04:00Traditionally YoursRecently, apparently, there's been a lot of news surrounding a possible name change for the Washington Redskins football team after both President Obama and Bob Costas have made public statements about how racially offensive the name was to Native Americans. Honestly, I had to read up on this phenomena because NPR had their fall member campaign this last week and they've been a little less-than-informative with their breaking-news coverage. Don't scold me either, I've donated to NPR...I've got a window cling to prove it.<br />
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I didn't even realize that the Washington Redskins were even still a thing. Not only am I not a football fan, I also live in Pittsburgh, so lord knows that football journalists in this town bleed black and gold or they're run out of town by pitchfork-wielding yinzers. But still, that level of racially offensive nickname went out with the slow-talking, pelt wearing "Kemosabe" of the fifties western television show, right? I guess with Johnny Depp (of all people) green-lighting that kind of racism in the summer flop "The Lone Ranger," I should know that anything is possible. How did I come to all of this now, miles behind everyone else? I got a text today from my husband with his coworkers' reaction to the Redskins debacle,<br />
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"It's those goddamned pussy-ass liberals that are ruining this country!"<br />
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My first reaction was to think that changing the name of a football team doesn't ruin America does it? No one can <i>possibly</i> think that! But alas, my reading set me straight: the term Redskins is a "tradition." The term traditional in America could easily be interchanged with patriotic for many citizens, despite the fact that these terms are nowhere near the same. I'd say that indoor plumbing isn't necessarily traditionally American, but we still seem to have really embraced it over the last few decades. Miley Cyrus isn't exactly the kind of woman that Susan B. Anthony was talking about when she fought for women's suffrage, but it seems that a lot of Americans can't get enough of the skank. Tradition is a two-way street, America.<br />
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It's weird how we've progressed as a society to a point where we're completely disconnected from our food, our land, and our sense of personal morality, but we're certain that the way that things used to be are much better than the way things are now. We simply must use the newest cell phone on the market and we pay someone to let us park our car in a garage, but we're certain that those racially and socially oppressive and offensive nicknames are totally legit by claiming their status as traditional in American lexicon. To say that they weren't would just leave you subject to your own offensive and oppressive slur...that of the "pussy-ass liberal."<br />
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I don't consider myself tied to any particular political group as I'm too apathetic and cynical to really care about our "government," but even I'm slightly charged to turn a mirror upon the face of American traditionalism/patriotism and demand to know where in the history books it was ever, "The Polarized States of America?" Where was it ever intended to be what once was should always be?<br />
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It is by its very definition that American is the land of progression, whether it be through Washington's plea for Americans not to be pulled down by any political party (well, we fucked that up), Dr. King's racially tolerant rhetoric (we fucked that up, too), or even Lee Greenwood's shitty song about being an American because at least he knows he's free. Feh.<br />
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The Washington Redskins. The Atlanta Braves. The Notre Dame Fighting Irish. All of these fall under the label of offensive monikers seen as traditional by the eye of an angry and threatened beholders. Beholders that love the newest Hemi in their truck, the newest reality show on TLC or the best factory-farmed hamburger their hard-earned money can buy.<br />
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Progression is a blame game when it can no longer be sustained by a polarized country. That's not what this is really about though...it's about football.<br />
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Ssejicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07555754699992063077noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6374777641274881419.post-18204282123179609252013-09-23T14:00:00.001-04:002013-09-23T14:00:43.847-04:00Fall Calls for Pie Day!So yesterday was Pie Day. I think that the majority of people that read this blog are also friends with me on Facebook, so they've seen the official Pie Day photo:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWlLRMODcDbWxbZ0SRvDxieefLcaWwsw_QWlsE7pYzncitqJ4PX3mhOEfPTgnioX5mQ6p-JCTD1BvmW7phD5KuQYy3t6mSYWF84cAQlIIJCBNqUFYhuT0F7x79o3Q-fghql0-RjOYjBEw/s1600/photo.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWlLRMODcDbWxbZ0SRvDxieefLcaWwsw_QWlsE7pYzncitqJ4PX3mhOEfPTgnioX5mQ6p-JCTD1BvmW7phD5KuQYy3t6mSYWF84cAQlIIJCBNqUFYhuT0F7x79o3Q-fghql0-RjOYjBEw/s1600/photo.JPG" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i> Please stand back from the glow of Pie Day, because its radiance may burn you. </i></span></div>
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Pie Day consisted of making pie crusts, cutting up vegetables for chicken pot pie (the best food in the world), making copious amounts of pumpkin filling for one GIANT pumpkin pie, and of course eating pie and drinking too much black coffee. I don't have a pie and coffee tattoo for nothing kids:<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>To be truthful, I have a pie and coffee tattoo because I love "Twin Peaks," pie, and coffee, but for the intent and purpose of this blog post as well as those that don't know of the show, this is just a bangin' representation of my love affair with the pastry and filling arts.</i></span></div>
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The first day of Autumn seems like the perfect time to celebrate a day like this, but it was totally accidental. My husband and my parents were bringing in wood for the furnace, and I'm MUCH too fragile to do something like that, so I was in charge of the pie crusts and beginning to make pot pie. I was wearing a sweater, it was slightly brisk and there were big and fluffy autumn clouds in the sky that replaced the haze of the humid summer sun. It was the perfect time to fire up the oven and bring back the pie-making season from it's sticky-summer hiatus. I hadn't made crusts in a while, so I felt a little rusty, but by batch two, I could easily have made a dozen more batches. I read somewhere that decent bakers are born and not made, but I feel like with this recipe the former doesn't always have to be the case (thankfully for the rest of us that must get by with our Grams' recipes and a nanobyte of their talent and patience). </div>
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My Gram gave me her love for pie and all things tasty, some skill with which to create these tasty things, and she gave me her figure (gee thanks, lady.) Something else she gave me, though, was a pie crust recipe that cannot be beat by anything that I've ever seen. The woman lived by this recipe and it's ability to create a pie crust that will not get tough no matter how much you handle the dough. It's genius. It's divinely-inspired. It might be slightly satanic (okay...it's not), but it's also the secret to any pie that I've ever made in my life. The fillings are the fillings, but the crust...honey chile, that's what makes a pie more than pudding or stewed fruit. </div>
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If I share this recipe, you have to promise to use it. No excuses and don't argue with the directions. </div>
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<b>"Fool"Proof Pie Crust</b></div>
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<b>4 Cups Flour</b></div>
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<b>1 3/4 cup Crisco (regular or butter flavored...if you like butter, use the butter flavored)</b></div>
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<b>2 teaspoons salt</b></div>
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<b>1 Tablespoon sugar </b></div>
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<b>1 Tablespoon vinegar</b></div>
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<b>1 egg</b></div>
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<b>1/2 Cup <u>cold</u> water</b></div>
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<b>Mix together the flour, salt and sugar. Cut in Crisco until crumbly (use a pastry blender if you're averse to getting your hands dirty, but I've been watching way too much "Two Fat Ladies," lately and I want to do everything by hand). In a separate bowl, whisk egg, then add vinegar and water and mix together. Add wet ingredients to dry ingredients and mix until you get a big ole pastry ball. Flatten it out and cut into four equal parts, then make those parts into pastry patties. Freeze for a heck of a long time...or at least chill in the fridge for half an hour before using. The waiting is the hardest part...Tom Petty said so.</b></div>
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There you have it. Make your own "Damn Fine" Pie Day. </div>
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<br />Ssejicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07555754699992063077noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6374777641274881419.post-18249808420464051762013-09-16T10:10:00.002-04:002013-09-16T10:15:35.922-04:00Hang the DJ, Hang the DJ, Hang the DJ: The Smiths' 10 Funniest Lyrics.<span style="background-color: #999999;">A Buzzfeed Community member posted the 10 funniest Smiths' lyrics on September 12. I read it. I laughed and I tsk'ed at the lack of some obviously devilishly funny lyrics that were left off the list. Buzzfeed has a weird way of being so hilarious at times and being so completely off the mark at others that I wonder if there are any kind of checks and balances to the writing. If no, how do I get a job there?</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: #999999;">I felt it only my natural right to post my thoughts on the Smiths' (or is the Smiths's? I don't like the idea of it grammatically being the SMITHSES...ugh, but I also don't like the idea of not putting anything there. There has to be something there, right? These are the things that keep me up at night. That and all of the psychopharmaceuticals).</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: #999999;">Without further psychobabble or ado, here are my funniest Smiths' (Smiths's) lyrics in no particular order:</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: #999999;">1. "I didn't realize that you wrote poetry. I didn't realize you wrote such really awful poetry." from Frankly, Mr. Shankly, which by itself...could fill a list of ten hilarious lyrics. I have special meaning with this one...because there are so many bad poets out there that fancy themselves deep and mysterious when really they're just, "flatulent pain in the ass(es)."</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: #999999;">2. "Hand in glove. The sun shines out of our behinds. No, it's not like any other love, this one is different because it's us." from Hand in Glove. Maybe there's a double-entendre here that I'm missing, but I find that most couples feel this way about their relationships in the very beginning and Morrissey is poking fun at how nauseating it can really be.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: #999999;">3. "A scanty bit of a thing with a decorative ring that wouldn't cover the head of a goose. As Rose collects the money in the canister, who comes sliding down the banister, but Vicar in a tutu. It's not strange. He just wants to live his life this way." from Vicar in a Tutu. How this did not make the list is beyond me. It's about a cross-dressing Vicar for Chrissakes.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: #999999;">4. "<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21.328125px;">This is the last night of the fair, a</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21.328125px;">nd the grease in the hair</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21.328125px;"> of</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21.328125px;"> a speedway operator i</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21.328125px;">s all a tremulous heart requires. </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21.328125px;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21.328125px;">A schoolgirl is denied, s</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21.328125px;">he said : "How quickly would I die</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21.328125px;"> i</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21.328125px;">f I jumped from the top of the parachutes ?" from Rusholme Ruffians (one of my favorites). This is a bit darker, but just as amusing...the seriousness of the teenager and her unrequited love. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21.328125px;">5. "...And when I'm lying in bed. I think about life and I think about death, and neither one particularly appeals to me." from Nowhere fast. There are a lot of darkly funny lyrics in this ("I am a man of means, of <i>slender</i> means."), but I really enjoy Morrissey being able to poke fun at his own "meh," and I think that that's what a lot of Morrissey critics miss. He made fun of himself as much as he did everyone else. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21.328125px;">6. "I've come to wish you an unhappy birthday (x2). 'Cause you're evil and you lie and if you should die I may feel slightly sad, (but I won't cry.)" from Unhappy Birthday. How many people can admit that they've never felt this way about someone in their life. Don't even try it.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21.328125px;">7. " I don't dream about anyone...except myself." from William, It was Really Nothing. Classic Morrissey.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21.328125px;">8. "I was looking for a job and then I found a job. And Heaven knows I'm miserable now!" from Heaven Knows I'm Miserable Now. This is another song that has tons of funny lyrics, but I find this one to be the most charmingly clever...or rather, is it that I find this one to be the most relevant?</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21.328125px;">9. "Keats and Yates are on your side, while Wilde is on mine." from Cemetary Gates. This is another lovely song that isn't necessarily funny, but this is such a cheeky line. What exactly are you trying to say, Morrissey, hmmm?</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21.328125px;">10. "</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21.328125px;">Past the Pub who saps your body,</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21.328125px;"> a</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21.328125px;">nd the church who'll snatch your money." from The Queen is Dead. This is a bitter, bitter line, but so true and so clever. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21.328125px;">Morrissey's solo stuff is full of really clever lines as well, but that's another post for another time when I'm feeling especially energetic. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21.328125px;">Ta!</span></span>Ssejicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07555754699992063077noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6374777641274881419.post-61760998950142077002013-05-15T10:06:00.002-04:002013-05-15T10:06:30.081-04:00Dreamin' : American StyleWhen Dustin was in Iraq, he got paid on the 10th of every month. It was hard, at first, to only get paid once a month and honestly I hated the 9th more than any day of the month. After a while, though, it was easy to fall into a routine of paying the bills on the 10th, putting so much into the savings account (a laughable thought now) and knowing that I had so many dollars until the 10th rolled around again. I grew to love that routine. I grew to cherish my ability to make it work to the point where the 9th became my most loved day of the month, because there was still plenty of money left to live, or to put away, or to possibly spend on something frivolous (what?!).<br />
After 18 months of Dustin's contract in Iraq, we had amassed some wares that we had only dreamed of: a car that actually ran, bedroom furniture that wasn't broken and older than me, a digital camera from this decade, a basic-level e-reader, and a mediocre laptop that allowed Dustin to stay in touch with me from the desert and prevented him from completely going batshit crazy whilst confined to a base in the middle of a war-torn country. These things aren't luxuries to most people, but when I get up every morning and see a new wardrobe in my bedroom, I'm still slightly amazed that I was fiscally able and actually allowed to go to a store, pick out what I wanted, and buy it with cash that I had in my checking account. Since I struck out on my own with Dustin, I was sure that something as seemingly small as this would be for other people, as if Ikea was a place for us to buy candles and lingonberries, but nothing else. This is the stuff of which <i>American</i> dreams are made, right?<br />
These are not crazy credit purchases like my the people my age are making: houses that are too large for their families with mortgages that they can barely afford, cars that are shiny status symbols with names like Audi, Saab or Acura, and clothes and bedding from Pottery Barn and Jack and Jill for their toddlers that are too young to know the difference (or care) between items from these overpriced chain boutiques and those that came from the Salvation Army's half-price day (the greatest day of the week, by the way). I felt a little smug about my own sense of restraint at my age: about paying our credit cards (fixtures of time when money was completely gone) down instead of racking them up, paying over on my student loan bills so that maybe I could have them paid off before I retired, working full-time at a temp job that I hated when I didn't technically "need," to because money was okay for once.<br />
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I felt like a real adult singing, "you're going to make it after all!"<br />
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When Dustin got home from Iraq, he was on unemployment for a decent amount of time, but it was okay. The savings was there, he made as much as one could make on unemployment and we were living modestly and even managed to pay off one of Dustin's student loans in this time (hooray!). Then Dustin got a job with a company that repairs large pieces of equipment for an hourly sum that was laughable to someone with his skill and experience. It was okay, though, they assured him, it wouldn't always be like this and they could see him rising through the ranks of the company, and let's face it, no one was beating down the door to give him a job that paid what he deserved. I got hired on full-time at my temp job and got a "raise," that made our pays about equal. We lived, but I could feel myself drilling down, down and further down into the seemingly endless depths of depression (a result of a job that I loathed) that only a fierce cocktail of psychopharmaceuticals rescue me from. I had doctor's co-pays, hospital bills, pharmacy co-pay after co-pay and the 70% of nothing that comes from a three week stint of Short-Term Disability. The first weeks of this year were a mess...a mess that I'm not sure we'll ever recover from.<br />
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The late winter was rough but the summer seems to be rougher. The savings is low now, a result of buying groceries, paying credit card bills, and having a fussy feline that needed 1,000 dollars worth of medical care and now requires prescription food and a eagle-eye to make sure that he doesn't die.I got a new job within my company, but it pays less when you factor in all of the overtime I'm not working. But I should be glad, right? My time is so valuable that I should cherish not working thirteen hour days and crying at my desk, RIGHT?!<br />
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Let's face reality: my time has become increasingly less valuable as these hot months roll on and by back-to-school, I may be hocking school shoes or bookbags three nights a week at some crappy retail job to compensate. Who needs sleep anyway?<br />
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Maybe I should've bought a bunch of things that I couldn't afford so that at least I'd have the things to fall back on instead of having a stack of bills that have a decent chunk taken from them, but are nowhere near paid-off. Maybe my age group has it all right: buy now, figure it out later and leave the debt for your toddlers.<br />
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Maybe I shouldn't have treated myself to that makeup two years ago.<br />
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The choices that I have to make now for Dustin and I are those that two people that make well above minimum wage should never have to make. How long can I go without that prescription? What happens if we consistently eat carbohydrates because they're cheaper than vegetables and fruit? That medical procedure isn't absolutely necessary, is it? I'm more inclined to believe that this really is the stuff of which American Dreams are made.Ssejicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07555754699992063077noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6374777641274881419.post-77287805859217867722013-04-09T11:16:00.000-04:002013-04-09T11:16:20.456-04:00Girl, Be Not ProudToday I did something that I'm not proud of (that is, besides ending this sentence in a preposition).<br />
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I was in the company bathroom and a woman right beside me had deodorant lines completely marking the sides of her perfectly pressed black skirt, like little wispy roads. No one had told her. I could tell. She went about washing her hands and drying them complacently without a care in the world as to the marring of her suit. This smart suit with black hose, black patent pumps and a crispy white shirt. A bob-do settled atop her middle-aged head with a smartness (again) that comes with many years of hassling with ponytails and long locks. She was just. so. smart.<br />
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Too smart.<br />
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Just looking at her face filled me with a rage that comes with seeing someone just too smug for their own good. A flood of thoughts raced through my mind in two seconds and deduced themselves into one action: I didn't tell her.<br />
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I didn't tell her.<br />
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I'm not proud. I should've taken the high road (cliche alert!) and whispered in her ear. I should've gone to her woman-to-woman and told her about her accidental faux pas. I should've "helped a sister out," but I didn't, and I'm sorry for it now.<br />
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Why do we, as human beings, look at a person and think that we know everything of their existence within one second? Why are we so mean? Strike that...why was <i>I</i> so mean?<br />
<br />Ssejicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07555754699992063077noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6374777641274881419.post-44475831221604446512013-01-20T17:43:00.001-05:002013-01-20T17:43:57.343-05:00Twenty-First Century Jokes<br />
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A lazy Sunday afternoon watching a Futurama marathon
comprised of episodes I’ve seen fifty times isn’t exactly the most productive
way to spend a day, BUT there’s no shame in my game, yo. <o:p></o:p></div>
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During the commercials, the trailer for, “Identity Theft,”
appeared before for me for the first time. The basic premise is that a businessman’s
identity (Jason Bateman) is stolen by a harmless-looking woman (Melissa McCarthy
of “Mike and Molly,” fame) and shenanigans and chicanery ensue. Anyone who hasn’t been in a coma for the last
few years knows that, “Mike and Molly,” and thusly Melissa McCarthy have been
the target of ill-placed fame for being a show about “two fatties in love.” In fact, one <a href="http://www.marieclaire.com/sex-love/dating-blog/overweight-couples-on-television" target="_blank">journalist</a> thought it her place to tell everyone in the world about how
disgusting it was that a show like this would portray fat people being happy
enough with themselves to love someone else. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Anyway, there's a spot in the trailer where the beautifully lithe dancer-looking girlfriend (you know, she doesn't look quite White, Black, Latino, Indian or Asian, but she's "hot," and totally sweet in a messy bun and leggings) compares McCarthy's character to a hobbit and Bateman so sassily quips, "I'm goin' after Bilbo." Et tu, McCarthy and Bateman? Another fat joke? Another wacky comedy at the expense of the fat lady? </div>
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I know that Krusty the Clown has made a career out of this kind of thing for Simpsons fans everywhere, but fat jokes are about as hilarious and cutting-edge as the flapping dickie or the The Three Stooges eye poke. Not only are they not funny because I'm fat, they're not funny in spite of the fact that I'm fat. </div>
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Fat jokes have become the easiest way to criticize someone's physical appearance without being seen as cruel or shallow. In fact, fat jokes have often been laid on the line as a way to "help," fat people realize that they're in the middle of a medical crisis. A newscaster in Minnesota or Wisconsin or somewhere cold and snowy got made an amazing rebuttal to a "concerned viewer," that thought that she was setting a bad example for her female viewers. It is my hope that women like Jennifer can stay as classy and respectful as she has in her rebuttal instead of lowering herself to the level of the redundant funny fat lady laughing with the bullies. It's no place to be, Melissa McCarthy.</div>
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The next time I see a girl wearing high heels, I'll remember to call her a disgusting street-walking prostitute out of concern for her foot health. I mean why not? It's the same thing. </div>
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Fat jokes don't hurt just the fat lady, they hurt the fat lady's husband/wife/partner, her children, her family and her friends. Fat jokes will usually get an eye roll from any fat lady that's confident enough in herself to realize how base and stupid they are, but fat jokes will invoke shame from those that aren't strong enough to see through to the heart of their maker. </div>
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Do you want to show a fat person some concern? Befriend them. Get to know their story and encourage whatever path to good health they may travel. Give a little love. </div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">"It's so easy to laugh. It's so easy to hate. It takes strength to be gentle and kind."</span></div>
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Ssejicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07555754699992063077noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6374777641274881419.post-6799807518588625882012-12-02T12:18:00.000-05:002012-12-02T12:18:20.479-05:00Fifty Shades of Jessica: Part OneSo Facebook has this thang called the "50 Day song Challenge." Everyday you post a song that has a theme that is pre-designated by Mark Zuckerberg. That last part is a lie, but it's fun to make up lies.<br />
Anyway, there's no reason that this shit needs to take 50 days. I can bang this out in a blog post or two.<br />
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I found a list that I liked better on www.musicfrombigpink.wordpress.com, and I stole it, but I didn't steal the songs, I promise.<br />
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<span style="background-color: #999999; font-family: Georgia, Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21px;">Day 01 – A song from the first album you ever bought: "All that She Wants," by Ace of Base. This album was unstoppable. Act like you didn't own a copy. G'head. Impossible.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: #999999;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21px;">Day 02 – Your favorite s</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21px;">ingle </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21px;">anthem: "Take Off To The Great White North," by Geddy Lee. This is not an anthem per se, but it is a beacon of light for the people of Canada. </span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: #999999; font-family: Georgia, Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21px;">Day 03 – Your favorite title track from an album: "First and Last and Always," by The Sisters of Mercy.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times, serif;"><span style="background-color: #999999; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21px;">Day 04 – A song by a band or artist you’ve seen live: " Lonesome Train Whistle," by The Reverend Horton Heat. In fact, I just saw them on Thursday night and this song rocked my socks right off, along with their version of Faron Young's single (written by Willie Nelson), "Hello Walls." I'm currently a rock n' roll/rockabilly/psychobilly fanatic. </span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: #999999; font-family: Georgia, Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21px;">Day 05 – A song from your childhood: "It's You I like," by Mister Rogers. This was going to be my wedding song for the longest time...until I got married without a wedding and became really goth (on the inside. No need to dress like a bat to be goth) and wanted Echo and the Bunnymen's, "Nocturnal Me." ha.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: #999999; font-family: Georgia, Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21px;">Day 06 – A song by your favorite band/artist: "Still Ill," by The Smiths. This was the first Smiths' song that I fully connected with. That I said, "This bloke Morrissey is writing what I'm feeling." </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: #999999; font-family: Georgia, Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21px;">Day 07 – A favorite song that was used on a TV series: "The Christmas Song," by The Raveonettes. I hate the OC, but their Christmas albums are fantastic!</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: #999999; font-family: Georgia, Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21px;">Day 08 – Your most played song on iTunes: "Bring on the Dancing Horses," by Echo and the Bunnymen. *le sigh* it is so beautiful.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: #999999; font-family: Georgia, Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21px;">Day 09 – Favorite new release: "Lights," by Ellie Goulding. At least, I think that that's her name. This song makes me want to dance my pants off.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: #999999; font-family: Georgia, Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21px;">Day 10 – An awesome driving song: "Breakin' the Law," by Judas Priest. I don't really have to explain why this is the best song to drive to, ever.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: #999999;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21px;">Day 11 –</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21px;"> A song that’s amazing live: I think that the only version of Bob Seger's, "Turn the Page," that anyone has ever heard is the live version. Is there a regular version? Does anyone care? A close second is, "Death of a Disco Dancer," by The Smiths. That is, at least when I saw Morrissey sing it in 2009. *swoon*</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times, serif;"><span style="background-color: #999999; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21px;">Day 12 – A song that makes you laugh: "I'm just a Gigolo," by David Lee Roth. Mister Dustin and I have a very secret reason for liking this one, that still makes me lol, officially, when I hear this song.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21px;">Day 13 – A song with incredible lyrics: "The Devil's Crayon," by Wild Beasts. </span></span><br />
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<i><span style="background-color: #999999;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 23px; text-align: left;">This truly is the devil's answer </span><br style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 23px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;" /><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 23px; text-align: left;">Carved from the tongue of this romancer </span><br style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 23px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;" /><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 23px; text-align: left;">This truly is the devil's answer </span><br style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 23px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;" /><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 23px; text-align: left;">The oldest children used to kiss </span><br style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 23px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;" /><br style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 23px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;" /><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 23px; text-align: left;">And we are so many clambering hands </span><br style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 23px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;" /><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 23px; text-align: left;">And we are so many clambering hands </span></span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21px;">Day 14 – A song off an album that has brilliant cover art: "Run to the Hills," by Iron Maiden's album The Number of the Beast. Which is probably one of the greatest Metal songs that has ever been crafted, with one of the most iconic metal characters that has ever been crafter. Bruce Dickinson is my favorite super hero.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21px;">Day 15 –</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21px;"><strike>Your favorite TV theme tune</strike> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21px;"> Your favorite song from a movie soundtrack: "Danger Zone," by Kenny Loggins...as featured in the soundtrack for <i>Top Gun</i>. Yessssss... A close second was every song on the<i> Hot Rod</i> Soundtrack, which is basically Europe's, "The Final Countdown."</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21px;">Day 16 – A song that reminds you of a holiday: "Round and Round," by Ratt. This is probably my favorite holiday song because it was featured in the credits of "The Grim Adventures of Billy and Mandy's" Christmas Special.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times, serif;"><span style="background-color: #999999; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21px;">Day 17 – A song that makes you think of a family member: "Let Your Love Flow," By The Bellamy Brothers. We used the lyrics to this one on the remembrance cards at my Grandmother's Memorial Service. It was kind of her take on life. The contentment of the life that you've been dealt.</span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: #999999;"><i><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px; text-align: left;">Just let your love flow like a mountain stream</span><br style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px; text-align: left;" /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px; text-align: left;">And let your love grow with the smallest of dreams</span><br style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px; text-align: left;" /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px; text-align: left;">And let your love show and you'll know what I mean</span><br style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px; text-align: left;" /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px; text-align: left;">It's the season</span><br style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px; text-align: left;" /><br style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px; text-align: left;" /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px; text-align: left;">And let your love fly like a bird on the wing</span><br style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px; text-align: left;" /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px; text-align: left;">And let your love bind you to all living things</span><br style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px; text-align: left;" /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px; text-align: left;">And let your love shine and you'll know what I mean</span><br style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px; text-align: left;" /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px; text-align: left;">That's the reason</span></i><br style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px; text-align: left;" /></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #999999;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21px;">Day 18 – <strike>A</strike></span><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21px;"><strike> song you never get sick of hearing </strike></span><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21px;"> Your favorite piece of classical music: Is this considered classical music? "Rhapsody in Blue," reminds me of a Special Lady and a special family and will be a classic for me for the rest of my life. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21px;">Day 19 – A guilty pleasure: "He Loves You Not," By Dream. Don't you judge me. I already hate myself.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times, serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 21px;">Day 20 – A song you can’t help but sing along to: Although the aforementioned song is pretty irresistible Every time that I hear Sweet's, "Ballroom Blitz," I tend to scream at the top of my lungs. you can't help but not. </span></span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: #999999; font-family: Georgia, Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21px;">Day 21 – A song that reminds you of a close friend: "Summer Girls," By LFO. This is a shout-out to my good friend Vanessa. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: #999999;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21px;">Day 22 –<strike> </strike></span><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21px;"><strike>A song you play when you want to relax</strike> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21px;">Your favorite sad bastard song: "Fairytale of New York," by The Pogues. Dear lord, the tears just roll down my face when this one comes one. </span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: #999999; font-family: Georgia, Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21px;">Day 23 – A song you play before a night out: When I was an young buck (was I a buck, no I suppose I was a young doe. Is that a term?) that went out on Saturday nights, I couldn't really afford to go, so we would heavily pre-game the evening and then drive as fast as we could to the bar at 11pm. The song that often played on the car radio? "Hey Mama," by The Black-Eyed Peas. I apologize for nothing! </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: #999999;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21px;">Day 24 – </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21px;"><strike>A song from a band/artist you’ve just ‘discovered’ </strike></span><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21px;"> A song from a band that no one's ever heard of: "Gay Bar," By The Electric Six. Alright, maybe five people have heard of it, but it's a thrill-ride of non-stop awesomeness.</span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: #999999; font-family: Georgia, Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21px;">Day 25 – A song off of the last album you bought/ last track you downloaded: "Romance," by Wild Flag. That might not be the last album that I bought, but that song rules pretty darn hard and last year's Wild Flag album made the top of a lot of critics' lists last year.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: #999999; font-family: Georgia, Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21px;">Day 26 – A song no one would expect you to love: "Ballroom Blitz," by Sweet. Normally, I'm not the biggest fan of Glam and Butt Rock, but this song is so insanely dancy that I want to FREAK OUT! I've referenced it in a previous post about songs that I dance to whilst driving.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: #999999; font-family: Georgia, Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21px;">Day 27 – A song you would sing at a karaoke bar: A song that I HAVE sung at a karaoke bar is, "Milkshake," by Kelis. More than once, actually. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: #999999; font-family: Georgia, Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21px;">Day 28 - A song you love for its lyrics: I didn't realize that this song was XTC until Mister Dustin pointed it out to me. XTC has never really gotten the credit that they deserve for excellent song writing and excellent music. There are a lot of songs with lyrics that I can relate or connect to, but this one is just so poignant.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #999999;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21px;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21.33333396911621px;"><i>Dear God</i></span></span></div>
<i><span style="background-color: #999999;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21.33333396911621px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
Hope You get the letter</div>
</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21.33333396911621px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
And I pray You can make it better</div>
</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21.33333396911621px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
Down here</div>
</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21.33333396911621px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
I don't mean a big reduction in the price of beer</div>
</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21.33333396911621px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
But all the people that You made in your image</div>
</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21.33333396911621px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
See them starving on their feet</div>
</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21.33333396911621px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
'Cause they don't get enough to eat </div>
</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21.33333396911621px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
From God</div>
</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21.33333396911621px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
I can't believe in You</div>
</span></span></i><div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: #999999; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21.33333396911621px;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<i><span style="background-color: #999999;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21.33333396911621px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
Dear God</div>
</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21.33333396911621px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
Sorry to disturb </div>
</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21.33333396911621px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
You but I feel that I should be heard </div>
</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21.33333396911621px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
Loud and clear</div>
</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21.33333396911621px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
We all need a big reduction in amount of tears</div>
</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21.33333396911621px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
And all the people that You made in Your image</div>
</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21.33333396911621px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
See them fighting in the street</div>
</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21.33333396911621px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
'Cause they can't make opinions meet</div>
</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21.33333396911621px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
About God</div>
</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21.33333396911621px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
I can't believe in You</div>
</span></span></i><div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: #999999; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21.33333396911621px;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<i><span style="background-color: #999999;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21.33333396911621px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
Did You make disease and the diamond blue?</div>
</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21.33333396911621px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
Did You make mankind after we made You?</div>
</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21.33333396911621px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
And the devil too?</div>
</span></span></i><div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: #999999; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21.33333396911621px;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<i><span style="background-color: #999999;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21.33333396911621px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
Dear God</div>
</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21.33333396911621px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
Don't know if you noticed </div>
</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21.33333396911621px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
But Your name is on a lot of quotes in </div>
</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21.33333396911621px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
This book</div>
</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21.33333396911621px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
Us crazy humans wrote it, You should take a look</div>
</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21.33333396911621px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
And all the people that You made in your image</div>
</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21.33333396911621px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
Still believing that junk is true</div>
</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21.33333396911621px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
Well I know it ain't, and so do You</div>
</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21.33333396911621px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
Dear God</div>
</span></span></i><div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: #999999; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21.33333396911621px;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<i><span style="background-color: #999999;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21.33333396911621px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
I can't believe in...</div>
</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21.33333396911621px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
I don't believe...</div>
</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21.33333396911621px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
I won't believe in heaven and hell</div>
</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21.33333396911621px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
No saints, no sinners, no devil as well</div>
</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21.33333396911621px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
No pearly gates, no thorny crown</div>
</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21.33333396911621px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
You're always letting us humans down</div>
</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21.33333396911621px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
The wars You bring, the babes You drown</div>
</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21.33333396911621px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
Those lost at sea and never found</div>
</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21.33333396911621px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
And it's the same the whole world 'round</div>
</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21.33333396911621px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
The hurt I see helps to compound</div>
</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21.33333396911621px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
That Father, Son and Holy Ghost</div>
</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21.33333396911621px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
Is just somebody's unholy hoax</div>
</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21.33333396911621px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
And if You're up there You'll perceive</div>
</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21.33333396911621px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
That my heart's here upon my sleeve</div>
</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21.33333396911621px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
If there's one thing I don't believe in</div>
</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21.33333396911621px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
It's you</div>
</span></span></i><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21.33333396911621px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="background-color: #999999;">Dear God </span></i></div>
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</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21px;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times, serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 21px;">That's a place to finish it up. There's nothing more to say.</span></span>Ssejicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07555754699992063077noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6374777641274881419.post-46860957095073488322012-11-11T15:49:00.002-05:002012-11-13T08:00:56.146-05:00Smash it Up SundayToday is, "National Metal Day," according to VH1 classic. This has been celebrated by a countdown list that goes on for ten hours. TEN HOURS of a show being hosted by Fozzy (they're awful. Just awful. Don't believe me? You asked for it. Go ahead and watch that video) frontman and "Professional Wrestler," Chris Jericho. Feh.<br />
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When douchebag is finally coined by Merriam-Webster, there's going to be a picture of this asshole right next to Christian Audigier (to bring you up to speed, it's the guy that "designs," Ed Hardy clothing).<br />
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Anywho, much like every other list that VH1 classic cobbles together, I can't really manage to express via the written word how disappointed I am that this is the best that fans could come up with. Clearly if the electoral college needed to be established to tell voters who they wanted to for president, then clearly there should be some gate-keeping to keep people from themselves. In fact, I haven't even looked at the entire list until now, in hopes that I can express my initial discontent for two readers that might be interested in this (my husband being one of them).<br />
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I have a hard time understand what VH1 was classifying as, "Hard Rock." Is it because a guitar is involved? Is it because there would be a slightly chance that you'd bang your head? Clearly, some criterion must've been reached, and then the voters took a dump on them. I don't think that the complete list is out yet, but I did find one from 2009 that really grinds my gears.<br />
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ZRi_ebZ-9NI/TnXL8UXWE4I/AAAAAAAAEaY/fPlNE5EhMzI/s1600/Smash+Stash+002.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ZRi_ebZ-9NI/TnXL8UXWE4I/AAAAAAAAEaY/fPlNE5EhMzI/s320/Smash+Stash+002.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
Aside from yelling at the television (thanks Gram, I really needed to pick up that trait from you), I've also amassing things for my smash book.<br />
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Like a lot of the pen-palling paper-crazed crafters out there, I purchased a smash book, but unlike a lot of paper-crazed, pen-pallers out there, I seem to have no idea as to how to get started. Right now, I have a bunch of cards, postcards, letters, ticket stubs, fortunes, name cards, buttons that are sitting between the blank pages of this book, waiting to be inspiring for me, but I just can't seem to figure out how to put it all together. Being drawn in by all of the accessories and the doo-dads that go along with it is an easy slippery slope, but so far, I've just purchased the book and a few tags. There are entire sites dedicated to how to create a Smash book that emulates your personality or to show-off how amazing adorable some people are at smashing their lives into the pages of a book, but so far I suppose my smash book is a lot like my life, half-finished and bursting at the seams with all of the things that I wished I would've said and done to make everything pretty and witty and light.<br />
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My favorite line in Louisa May Alcott's, <i>Little Women</i> says, "I should've been a great many things, Mister Mayor."Ssejicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07555754699992063077noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6374777641274881419.post-91644302847355888602012-11-08T20:53:00.002-05:002012-11-08T21:02:50.352-05:00Black Metal Christmas<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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It's already November 9th and I'm just putting up my Christmas decorations. My husband hates it, but in order to fully enjoy Christmas decorations, they have to be up at least two months. I didn't make the rule it just is what it is. As I say this, we are watching a documentary called, "This is Black Metal," and Celtic Frost is currently covered in blood and dirt and singing about metal-y things like flesh and guts. This marriage is about give and take. Black Metal and Christmas. Or Black Metal Christmas. If you've never heard King Diamond's, "No Presents for Christmas," you must run to the interwebs and download it this very instant.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTYyaO_00Ij81G_Kq8zh4qXiOH9n_z4yktjlB3ZXPT1w8Hhl-GuSWfR7SJcvNbwcFsBjd-VQSECgfu3W8LffhtWeFNuHt5LqngLFKc3vAfPi8oM-t8BuAWQpC4v-sYSeQ5ZUWmf6fr2dM/s1600/jesus.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTYyaO_00Ij81G_Kq8zh4qXiOH9n_z4yktjlB3ZXPT1w8Hhl-GuSWfR7SJcvNbwcFsBjd-VQSECgfu3W8LffhtWeFNuHt5LqngLFKc3vAfPi8oM-t8BuAWQpC4v-sYSeQ5ZUWmf6fr2dM/s200/jesus.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoI4cMrOvJZmw2VOu8m6t2rLivrApNGXMe_t4LlihCCerN_hvrI3LZ4yhmHQhG_sJYgg4PSrwuU3kWZ043VJoKFKCJHafvDUpDbFe8syusDnac-5GYBgtRVHbO67XZcegK2_1RNR7vhWY/s1600/antlerlights.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoI4cMrOvJZmw2VOu8m6t2rLivrApNGXMe_t4LlihCCerN_hvrI3LZ4yhmHQhG_sJYgg4PSrwuU3kWZ043VJoKFKCJHafvDUpDbFe8syusDnac-5GYBgtRVHbO67XZcegK2_1RNR7vhWY/s200/antlerlights.jpg" width="150" /></a>For anyone that doesn't know me, I love to collect post-modern Christmas decorations. Basically the ugly, ugly plastic decorations that are most likely full of lead and pain that causes seizures and erectile dysfunction (although that second one hasn't really plagued me). Pairing these ugly items with the basic ugly items that litter my apartment throughout the rest of the year is probably one of my favorite activities. If you can believe it, the Infant of Prague stays and the creepy head looms all the live-long day.<br />
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Sharing my collection with six people on the internet is fun for sure, but much like my currently watching this back metal documentary, interspersing Dustin's interests with mine makes for a fun life together. Bottle brush trees and tiny robots go together swimmingly, anyway. </div>
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No holiday is complete with embarrassing your family whilst showcasing your super sweet plastic Christmas shovel .My parents really enjoyed when I forced them to wear someone else's clothes and pose for a picture in Gettysburg. ESPECIALLY my father. He wouldn't even wear rental bowling shoes when we were going bowling one time for my birthday. Admittedly, this is more about my perverse pleasure it distressing my father than it is about my Christmas shovel. Moving on...<br />
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This year I bought a champagne (it's pronounced cham-pag-in) glittery tree and covered it with totally twee bows. Personally, I blame Etsy for this. If it wasn't for that site, aqua wouldn't be such a big part of my life. Neither would birds or little doodads that make me squeal.<br />
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Garett's grandma had some of the coolest Christmas loot--including these awesome Santa candlesticks.<br />
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Don't miss the creepin' Santa head in the background.<br />
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Why do so many Santas look like Rummys?<br />
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I caught this grumpy cat under my Kitchen tree, or perhaps it should be called a Kitschen tree.<br />
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I've covered it in Norman Rockwell ornaments, teapot lights and sugarcube garland with the most adorablest button and corduroy tree skirt that ever lived.<br />
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That is, until the cats destroy it.</div>
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Christmastime is here. So that means its time for me to make a concerted effort to be a little nicer and be a little bit more human. Bill Murray will tell you all about it.<br />
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<br />Ssejicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07555754699992063077noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6374777641274881419.post-6106281499010999622012-11-07T16:52:00.000-05:002012-11-07T16:52:24.107-05:00Gray Skies Ahead Mr. Obama has been re-elected as the President of the United States of America, and it's too late to talk about all of the superbly wonderful ways that Mittens would've waved a wand over this country and transformed it to the land of ever-flowing cash and rich, white people as your boss as far as the eye can see.<br />
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If social media is an indicator of the level of fucked that we are as a "United Nation," then I'd set that dial to, "totally." Concern for one has given way to lots of selfish bickering, finger-pointing, bible-thumping and conspiracy theories (like, FEMA's putting stickers on your mailboxes and we're all getting put in work camps conspiracies. Oh the humanity!).<br />
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It reminds me of a little ditty written by David Gray:<br />
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<div id="songlyrics" style="text-align: left; width: 393px;">
<div style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px; text-align: center;">
Wishing that something would happen</div>
<div style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px; text-align: center;">
A change in this place</div>
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'cos I'm tearing off the fancy wrapping</div>
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Find an empty package</div>
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Take for a while</div>
</span><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
Your trumpet from your lip</div>
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Loosen your hold loosen your grip</div>
</span><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
On your old ways</div>
</span><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
That have fallen out of step</div>
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In a changing time</div>
</span><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
Hoist a new flag</div>
</span><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
Hoist a new flag</div>
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<span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
Angry sun burn down</div>
</span><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
Judging us all</div>
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Guilty of neglect and disrespect</div>
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And thinking small</div>
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And death by boredom</div>
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And death by greed</div>
</span><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
If we can't stop taking</div>
</span><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
More than we need</div>
</span><div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
But across the fractured landscape</div>
</span><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
I see the same things</div>
</span><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
Tired ideas</div>
</span><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
Birds without wings</div>
</span><span class="b-lyrics-from-signature" style="color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 0.8em; line-height: 1.5em;"><div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 0.8em; line-height: 1.5em;">[ Lyrics from: </span></div>
</span><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
And these are just thoughts</div>
</span><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
Of lack lustre times</div>
</span><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
I've no interest</div>
</span><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
In excuses you can find</div>
</span><div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;">Like you've had a hard day</span></div>
<span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
Now you're too tired to care</div>
</span><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
Now you're too tired to care</div>
</span><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
You've had a hard day</div>
</span><div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
Well across the fractured landscape</div>
</span><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
I see the same things</div>
</span><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
Tired ideas broken values</div>
</span><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
Many with the notion</div>
</span><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
That to share is to lose</div>
</span><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
A hollow people bound by a lack</div>
</span><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
Of imagination and too much looking back</div>
</span><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
Without the courage to give a new thing a chance</div>
</span><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
Grounded by this ignorance</div>
</span><div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
(and the cat comes)</div>
</span><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
We're just,</div>
</span><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
Birds without wings</div>
</span><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
</span></div>
<br />
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<br />
We are a nation that has been transformed based upon the notion that, "to share is to lose," even though we grew strong as a nation with government programs like, "The New Deal's" three Rs (Relief, Recovery and Reform) and fiscal conservatism. Nationally, we're paying the middle class less, buy bigger things and putting up with a budget that would tank any household. We want to let the rich pay less taxes, and then we wonder why the deficit is so large.<br />
<br />
This reminds me of another, by David Gray:<br />
<br />
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<br />
<div id="songlyrics" style="text-align: left; width: 393px;">
<div style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px; text-align: center;">
I beg to differ</div>
<div style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px; text-align: center;">
To break the chain</div>
<div style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px; text-align: center;">
To draw a line right through</div>
<div style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px; text-align: center;">
Tomorrow</div>
<div style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px; text-align: center;">
And cancel every claim</div>
<div style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px; text-align: center;">
I've seen reflections</div>
<div style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px; text-align: center;">
Beneath my skin</div>
<div style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px; text-align: center;">
And drums beating for battle</div>
<div style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px; text-align: center;">
In the eyes of children</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
And turning it over</div>
</span><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
Right down</div>
</span><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
Where the eye don't see no colour</div>
</span><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
Where the war don't make a sound</div>
</span><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
Ice on the shoulder</div>
</span><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
Noel</div>
</span><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
Praise the lord above</div>
</span><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
And sell sell sell</div>
</span><div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
Oh violent flowers</div>
</span><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
You fill the screen</div>
</span><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
Betray your mother</div>
</span><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
And change your name</div>
</span><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
So tall and fickle</div>
</span><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
And blind as snow</div>
</span><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
Running headfirst for oblivion</div>
</span><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
Cause you've nowhere else to go</div>
</span><span class="b-lyrics-from-signature" style="color: white; font-family: verdana; font-size: 0.8em; line-height: 1.5em;"><div style="text-align: center;">
And turning it over</div>
</span><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
Right down</div>
</span><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
Where the eye don't see no colour</div>
</span><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
Where the war don't make a sound</div>
</span><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
Ice on the shoulder</div>
</span><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
Noel</div>
</span><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
Praise the lord above</div>
</span><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
And sell sell sell</div>
</span><div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
In chill of winter</div>
</span><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
In dead of night</div>
</span><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
Each so familiar with the hunger</div>
</span><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
That they got no appetite</div>
</span><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
They talk of loving</div>
</span><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
I hear her say</div>
</span><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
That as fast as I can give it</div>
</span><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
He's taking it away</div>
</span><div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
And turning it over</div>
</span><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
Right down</div>
</span><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
Where the eye don't see no colour</div>
</span><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
Where the war don't make a sound</div>
</span><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
Ice on the shoulder</div>
</span><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
Noel</div>
</span><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
Praise the lord above</div>
</span><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
And sell sell sell</div>
</span><div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
And turning it over</div>
</span><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
Right down</div>
</span><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
Where the eye don't see no colour</div>
</span><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
Where the war don't make a sound</div>
</span><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
Ice on the shoulder</div>
</span><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
Noel</div>
</span><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
Praise the lord above</div>
</span><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
And sell sell sell</div>
</span><div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
A weeping willow</div>
</span><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
The desert wind</div>
</span><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
So many learn to swallow</div>
</span><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
So few to understand</div>
</span><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
The deepest longing</div>
</span><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
This cup of faith</div>
</span><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
Where to put them in a world</div>
</span><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
Where no innocence is safe</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
If we don't, "beg to differ and break the chain," of hatred, greed and intolerance to usher in a new way to comprise, then we're all as doomed as the red-dotted mailbox dweller. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
Ssejicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07555754699992063077noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6374777641274881419.post-91529854744751249252012-11-05T12:07:00.000-05:002012-11-05T12:07:58.972-05:00Tomorrow: Will it Really Come, and If It Does, Will I Still be American?<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
This is my last political post. I mean it. This is it. I've bordered on the edge of a liberal-leaning moderate making snide jokes about how
Mrs. Mitt Romney (she doesn't need a name. I mean, hell, she doesn't even need
the right to decide what she wants to do with her body) hasn't worked a day in
her life and Mitt Romney wouldn't know a middle-class person if they came up and
smacked him in the face (which I would be willing to do, repeatedly). I've openly admitted that I’m disappointed in the President that filled the country
with hyperbole about change and patriotism and fairness but really failed to
incite the change in the governing body of the people that elected him. I’m
tired of living in a country that can’t get over the fact that our President is
black, and I’m ashamed to admit that it took a very real and very blatant act
of racism for me to believe it. I’m tired of middle-class white people thinking
that their only hope is the tea party, when they don’t even come close to
realizing what their platform means for someone that lives exactly like they
do. I’m tired of a bi-partisan system being the status-quo because everyone is
too stupid, too afraid or too apathetic to really care about the people that
are being paid to represent us while we slave away at meaningless jobs and pay
taxes that manage their pension funds and tax breaks for the one-percent of the
population that can afford it. I’m ashamed that I fall into that apathetic
category. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’m terrified that tomorrow could be the beginning of four
years of what is already an insurmountable national debt being that much harder
to pay off. That forty-seven percent of the population will be treated like
scum: Granddads that need Medicare or
single mothers that need daycare assistance to work and go to school to better
their lives. I’m terrified that the next four years will be exactly like the
last that were full of snide bickering, racism and personal attacks. I’m afraid
that American Conservatives are blaming American Liberals when the real blame
is on the hundreds of men and women that refuse to comprise to make this
country whole. Unity has no room for partisan politics, so I’m confused as why
we are all so willing to put up with it?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="http://www.newint.org/archive/images/issue/123/images_patriotism.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://www.newint.org/archive/images/issue/123/images_patriotism.gif" width="215" /></a>Personally, I’m terrified that as hard as I work now, it
will never be hard enough to reach a place where I can retire and to everything
that I've ever wanted to do—like visit Ireland or The Cotswolds or anywhere
else that I've ever wanted to go, but couldn't afford to do it. I’m terrified
that at thirty, I've invested a lifetime worth of debt into an education that’s
provided a lifetime worth of hassle, because I don’t know somebody that knows
somebody that has, “an in.” I’m terrified that if one more person tells me that
the reason that I don’t have what I want is because I don’t work hard enough,
that I will stop trying completely.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Mostly, I’m afraid of voting Americans. I’m afraid that they
vote without their heads. They vote for themselves and not for America as a
nation. They vote thinking that they live in the greatest country in the world
(in what category, I have no idea), but they vote for people that want to cut
funding for Public Broadcasting and Education.
If you lived in the one-man country of “Peter Smith,” or” John Van Dyke,”
or, “ Amy Schneider,” voting for your
agenda and your religion and your pocketbook would be a worthy vote, but we don’t.
We are the United States of America and with that comes the great
responsibility to vote for those people that are United under one flag. People that
should be allowed to love and marry who they choose, should be able to make
choices about their reproductive health and should be able to reach out for
help when they need it, without fear of repercussion. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When you’re voting tomorrow, you’re casting a vote for
yourself, but you’re also casting a vote that affects every single person that you've ever locked eyes with on the street, every person that you've ever stood
next to in an elevator, every child that will be forced to live with the choices
that we have made as adults in 2012. Many people talk about how this is a right
as a legal American citizen (and thusly want to remove this right from those
that may not have the appropriate paperwork, but contribute to this country
with the same ferocity as any other citizen). Many people talk about how it is
a privilege to vote. I feel tremendous burden of this vote. The importance
weighs on me greatly and pushes the apathy to the breaking-point of Patriotism,
of connectedness to my fellow Americans, to pride. That is probably the most
terrifying feeling of all. The transformation to someone that cares. God, I
hope you can feel it, too.</div>
Ssejicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07555754699992063077noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6374777641274881419.post-65966514747899920862012-11-04T16:43:00.001-05:002012-11-04T16:45:25.400-05:00My Yearly Christmas Plea<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://0.tqn.com/d/fleamarket/1/0/X/1/-/-/pixieelves.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://0.tqn.com/d/fleamarket/1/0/X/1/-/-/pixieelves.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
Every year, I try my hardest to get my local radio station to play Christmas songs that are somewhat off the beaten-path. I'm not asking for "Merry Muthafuckin' Christmas," by Easy-E, but damnit, if I have to hear Bono wailing about his baby not coming home for one more season, I might go postal. <br />
<br />
So, here's my open letter to the director of programming at one of my local stations that has an all Christmas/all the time format:<br />
<br />
<br />
<div>
<em>Seasons Greetings to You!</em></div>
<div>
<em> </em><br />
<em></em> </div>
<div>
<em>It's almost time to begin your Christmas programming and I have to say that this is, by far, my favorite time of year to listen to your radio station. Christmas is my favorite holiday and the songs that are associated are so heartwarming and wonderful...even if the general population says that they're annoying and repetitive. Nothing could be farther from the truth, if you're willing to spice up your playlist and consider some of the many Christmas songs that never make it to the airwaves in Pittsburgh. I feel like this Christmas is a real opportunity to become the station that really serves up Christmas correctly, free from the same twenty Christmas songs that you hear on that other station (we both know what I'm talking about).</em></div>
<div>
<em> </em><br />
</div>
<div>
<em>Please consider some of the songs I'm going to list...for a few reasons. Firstly, I know a think or two about Christmas music and I know a thing or two about being in the 25-35 white, educated, middle-class demographic. It is no coincidence that bands like Mumford and Sons are popular: people are longing for skilled and talented musicians on the radio, and that includes Christmas music. Why is it that Bing Crosby's Christmas album has sold eleventy billion copies? The dude can sing! Please consider some talented artists that aren't necessarily Bruce Springsteen wailing about Santa Claus Coming to Town or, "Another Auld Lang Syne," by Kenny Loggins. In fact, if I never heard that song again it would be too soon. That is NOT a Christmas song.</em> </div>
<div>
</div>
<div>
<div>
<em>1. "Driving Home for Christmas," by Chris Rea</em></div>
<div>
<em>2. "The Burning Babe," by Sting</em></div>
<div>
<em>3. "Who Took the Merry Out of Christmas?" by The Staples Singers (this song's awesome quotient makes it officially "outta sight.")</em></div>
<div>
<em>4. "Christmas Song," The Raveonettes</em></div>
<div>
<em>5. "A Christmas to Remember," Kenny Rogers and Dolly Parton</em></div>
<div>
<em>6. "Christmas Wrapping," by The Waitresses</em></div>
<div>
<em>7. "The Christmas Waltz," by Doris Day</em></div>
<div>
<em>8. "Late in December," by Jackie Gleason</em></div>
<div>
<em>9. "If We Make it Through December," by Merle Haggard (technically not a Christmas song, but neither is, "Another Auld Lang Syne," and well...we've already discussed that one, haven't we?)</em></div>
<div>
<em>10. "Christmas in Las Vegas," Los Straitjackets</em></div>
</div>
<div>
</div>
<div>
<div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<em>I want to listen to your radio station, but when you play the same five Christmas songs in a loop, you leave me with no choice but to make a playlist full of She & Him, The Pogues and the amazing tunes listed above. </em></div>
<div>
<em> </em></div>
<div>
<em>Give yourself the gift of my listenership.</em></div>
<div>
<em></em> </div>
<div>
If this totally narcissistic and bratty plea does not get to them, then NOTHING will. </div>
<div>
</div>
<div>
Let's not take the Merry out of Christmas. </div>
</div>
<div>
</div>
Ssejicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07555754699992063077noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6374777641274881419.post-38859356981609417952012-11-02T15:48:00.000-04:002012-11-02T15:48:18.312-04:00Waiting for the Great Leap Forward<br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">As of late, I have been complete absorbed in XTC’s, “Making
Plans for Nigel,” listening to it six or seven times a day. Dustin and I
casually mentioned that if we ever decided to have a child (GASP!) and it was a
boy, Nigel was a definite boy name possibility. I’m betting that our next boy cat
would have a better chance of being named Nigel. Maybe a hairless cat that
someone buys me for my thirtieth birthday? Just a consideration for the six
people that even come close to reading this rarely-updated and poorly-attituded
(that’s a word now) blog (that’s also a sentence fragment, but I like to live
life on the edge. The <i>grammatical</i>
edge).</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I love this song because, much like the Brits, they say it
best when they say nothing at all (Yes, I did steal that line from Keith
Whitley. What’s he going to do about it? Not much, I’ll bet).</span></div>
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<i><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We're only making plans for Nigel </span></span></i></div>
<i><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="line-height: 115%;">We only want what's best for him </span></i></div>
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="line-height: 115%;">We're only making plans for Nigel </span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="line-height: 115%;">Nigel just needs this helping hand</span></i></div>
<o:p></o:p></span></span></i><br />
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<i><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="line-height: 115%;">And if young Nigel says he's happy </span></i></div>
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="line-height: 115%;">He must be happy </span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="line-height: 115%;">He must be happy in his work</span></i></div>
<o:p></o:p></span></span></i><br />
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<i><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="line-height: 115%;">We're only making plans for Nigel </span></i></div>
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="line-height: 115%;">He has his future in a British steel </span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="line-height: 115%;">We're only making plans for Nigel </span></i></div>
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<i><span style="line-height: 115%;">Nigel's whole future is as good as sealed</span></i></div>
<o:p></o:p></span></span></i><br />
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<i><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="line-height: 115%;">And if young Nigel says he's happy </span></i></div>
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="line-height: 115%;">He must be happy </span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="line-height: 115%;">He must be happy in his work</span></i></div>
<o:p></o:p></span></span></i><br />
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<i><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Nigel is not outspoken </span></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But he likes to speak </span></span></i></div>
<div style="font-style: italic; line-height: 115%; text-align: center;">
<i><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And loves to be spoken to </span></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Nigel is happy in his work </span></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We're only making plans for Nigel</span></span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> So many songs have
been written about working-class Brits by artists like Billy Bragg and groups
like XTC, that I feel as though I have basic understanding of their
desperation and apathy and how it, in turn, mirrors my own in so many ways. While artists like Sting (don’t get me wrong,
I like him, but he’s a total twat) like to talk about how they grew up in
working-class neighborhoods whilst on a Yoga retreat in sweaty, buggy Bali or from
a yurt in Mongolia where they’re learning to play a yak intestine hurdy-gurdy
from the local medicine man (thusly trying to gain some kind of street-cred
with the middle-class and actually gaining street-cred with Bourgeois Bohemians
that make two-hundred thousand dollars a year and have a Zen garden on the back
patio of their brownstone because it just makes them feel more “at peace.” FEH.),
there are artists that write songs that express what we’re all thinking in such
amazingly witty ways that the typical idiot off the street isn’t going to get
it and will just be-bop his way through life thinking that that song has a
catchy tune (we already discussed this when I dissected Bruce Springsteen’s, “Born
in the USA,” and wondered why anyone, anywhere would ever use that for their
fourth of July celebration). </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Nigel’s whole future is as good as sealed,” is so ominous
and so frightening under the guise of being upstanding and good. It’s like when
you see a picture of John Wayne Gacy cheesin' it dressed like Pogo the clown when you know he’s
secretly stuffing twinks in his crawl-space (are these analogies doing it for
you yet?). </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 115%;">I feel like I'm Nigel. I feel like my husband is Nigel. I feel like there are so many of us that are Nigel: with social deviants screaming inside of us. Aching to get out and set the nearest bank on fire and start bartering with goats and baked bread. </span></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My whole life seems to revolve around how I push dollars from one person to the next through spreadsheets and credits and re-bills and invoice history errors and dividends. My future was as good as sealed the day that I signed the FAFSA and said that I would spend the next four years spending forty-grand on a degree that would afford me to be so happy. I must be happy. I must be happy in this work.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 14px;">We're waiting for the great leap forward.</span></span></div>
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Ssejicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07555754699992063077noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6374777641274881419.post-5862450810909249272012-09-17T13:11:00.001-04:002012-09-17T13:19:44.669-04:00Good Times (For a Change)<div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://news.spreadit.org/pics/Morrissey1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="cssfloat: left; height: 123px; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; width: 101px;"><img border="0" hea="true" src="http://news.spreadit.org/pics/Morrissey1.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">So, the grandest thing that could ever happen all year is going to happen on Tuesday, October 23: </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Steven Patrick Morrissey is coming to town. </span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Santa Claus could travel back in time and bring me that Bigfoot Powerwheels that I wanted when I was five...he could even adorn it with seven bald kittens, and it would not equal the euphoria that I feel about seeing Morrissey in concert. </div></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">This internal hype is a recipe for disaster for several reasons. </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span a="undefined" c="4" class="short_text" closure_uid_i10yvo="125" id="result_box" lang="fr" pc="null"><span class="hps" closure_uid_i10yvo="228" pc="null"><em>La raison pour laquelle on: </em>There is more than a reasonable chance that Morrissey could cancel. He's done it before because he's an <em>Artiste</em>. I cannot think about this reason too greatly or I will throw myself in front of a double-decker bus. They have them in Pittsburgh now to cart lazy tourists to the five things that this city has that don't totally blow (although I'm sure four of them have something to do with sports). </span></span></div></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span a="undefined" c="4" class="short_text" closure_uid_i10yvo="125" lang="fr" pc="null"><span class="hps" closure_uid_i10yvo="228" pc="null"><span a="undefined" c="4" class="short_text" closure_uid_i10yvo="125" id="result_box" lang="fr" pc="null"><span class="hps" closure_uid_i10yvo="297" pc="null"><em>La deuxième raison: </em>There's this freaking kid that I've seen at both the Voltaire and Psychedelic Furs shows that has managed to almost ruin my good time. He's smelly and has some penchant for screaming at the performers and standing so close to me that he almost touches me. <strong>The more I ignore him, the closer he gets. </strong></span></span></span></span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span a="undefined" c="4" class="short_text" closure_uid_i10yvo="125" lang="fr" pc="null"><span class="hps" closure_uid_i10yvo="228" pc="null"><span a="undefined" c="4" class="short_text" closure_uid_i10yvo="125" lang="fr" pc="null"><span class="hps" closure_uid_i10yvo="297" pc="null"><span a="undefined" c="4" class="short_text" closure_uid_i10yvo="125" id="result_box" lang="fr" pc="null"><span class="hps" closure_uid_i10yvo="332" pc="null"><em>La troisième raison: </em></span></span></span></span></span></span><span a="undefined" c="4" class="short_text" closure_uid_i10yvo="125" lang="fr" pc="null"><span class="hps" closure_uid_i10yvo="228" pc="null">As with any performer, their whims guide the setlist and can spell disaster for anyone that doesn't love everything from their latest album. The good news for me: there isn't much that I don't totally dig by Moz. </span></span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span a="undefined" c="4" class="short_text" closure_uid_i10yvo="125" lang="fr" pc="null"><span class="hps" closure_uid_i10yvo="228" pc="null">Because I'm sad enough to fantasize about a concert that may or may not happen that is over a month away, I asked some fellow concert-goers about their wishlists and secretly compiled the songs that I wanted to hear whilst sobbing my eyes out in the fourth row (FOURTH ROW!).</span></span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span a="undefined" c="4" class="short_text" closure_uid_i10yvo="125" lang="fr" pc="null"><span class="hps" closure_uid_i10yvo="228" pc="null">Without further ado...well, maybe a bit more ado...</span></span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.somosfans.com/wp-content/uploads/2008/11/morrissey.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" hea="true" height="208" src="http://www.somosfans.com/wp-content/uploads/2008/11/morrissey.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"><span a="undefined" c="4" class="short_text" closure_uid_i10yvo="125" lang="fr" pc="null"><span class="hps" closure_uid_i10yvo="228" pc="null">My Morrissey Setlist:</span></span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"><span a="undefined" c="4" class="short_text" closure_uid_i10yvo="125" lang="fr" pc="null"><span class="hps" closure_uid_i10yvo="228" pc="null">1. I Will See You in Far Off Places.</span></span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"><span a="undefined" c="4" class="short_text" closure_uid_i10yvo="125" lang="fr" pc="null"><span class="hps" closure_uid_i10yvo="228" pc="null">2. The World is Full of Crashing Bores</span></span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"><span a="undefined" c="4" class="short_text" closure_uid_i10yvo="125" lang="fr" pc="null"><span class="hps" closure_uid_i10yvo="228" pc="null">3. Tomorrow</span></span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"><span a="undefined" c="4" class="short_text" closure_uid_i10yvo="125" lang="fr" pc="null"><span class="hps" closure_uid_i10yvo="228" pc="null">4. Still Ill</span></span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"><span a="undefined" c="4" class="short_text" closure_uid_i10yvo="125" lang="fr" pc="null"><span class="hps" closure_uid_i10yvo="228" pc="null">5. Disappointed</span></span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"><span a="undefined" c="4" class="short_text" closure_uid_i10yvo="125" lang="fr" pc="null"><span class="hps" closure_uid_i10yvo="228" pc="null">6. Piccadilly Palare</span></span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"><span a="undefined" c="4" class="short_text" closure_uid_i10yvo="125" lang="fr" pc="null"><span class="hps" closure_uid_i10yvo="228" pc="null"></span></span><span a="undefined" c="4" class="short_text" closure_uid_i10yvo="125" lang="fr" pc="null"><span class="hps" closure_uid_i10yvo="228" pc="null">7.Cemetary Gates</span></span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"><span a="undefined" c="4" class="short_text" closure_uid_i10yvo="125" lang="fr" pc="null"><span class="hps" closure_uid_i10yvo="228" pc="null">8. Sing Your Life</span></span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"><span a="undefined" c="4" class="short_text" closure_uid_i10yvo="125" lang="fr" pc="null"><span class="hps" closure_uid_i10yvo="228" pc="null">9. Rusholme Ruffians</span></span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"><span a="undefined" c="4" class="short_text" closure_uid_i10yvo="125" lang="fr" pc="null"><span class="hps" closure_uid_i10yvo="228" pc="null">10. November Spawned a Monster</span></span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"><span a="undefined" c="4" class="short_text" closure_uid_i10yvo="125" lang="fr" pc="null"><span class="hps" closure_uid_i10yvo="228" pc="null">11. This Night Has Opened My Eyes</span></span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"><span a="undefined" c="4" class="short_text" closure_uid_i10yvo="125" lang="fr" pc="null"><span class="hps" closure_uid_i10yvo="228" pc="null">12. Please, Please, Please Let Me Get What I Want</span></span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"><span a="undefined" c="4" class="short_text" closure_uid_i10yvo="125" lang="fr" pc="null"><span class="hps" closure_uid_i10yvo="228" pc="null">13. I Know It's Over</span></span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"><span a="undefined" c="4" class="short_text" closure_uid_i10yvo="125" lang="fr" pc="null"><span class="hps" closure_uid_i10yvo="228" pc="null">Encore:</span></span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"><span a="undefined" c="4" class="short_text" closure_uid_i10yvo="125" lang="fr" pc="null"><span class="hps" closure_uid_i10yvo="228" pc="null">14. Everday is like Sunday.</span></span><br />
15. One Day Goodbye will be Farewell</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span a="undefined" c="4" class="short_text" closure_uid_i10yvo="125" lang="fr" pc="null"><span class="hps" closure_uid_i10yvo="228" pc="null">Is fifteen too many? I felt a little greedy, but I also thought that a nice, round twenty-five would do the trick for me. I mean, I can only cry so much before I will need to sleep. </span></span></div>Ssejicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07555754699992063077noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6374777641274881419.post-21818282441450681902012-07-17T15:59:00.007-04:002012-11-02T15:51:30.966-04:00General Admission: The Agony! The Ectasy! The Misogyny!I'm not quite sure why, but Gina and I had made this promise (I'm using this word loosely, because it's not like I'm going to be too disappointed with myself when it doesn't happen) to ourselves about getting around Pittsburgh and seeing things: cultural events, festivals, and live music. When the opportunity arose to see Neko Case (for free, let's not go crazy), I was happy to be invited and happy to see a woman I had only heard briefly. My favorite song that I'd heard (of the two that I'd heard), was a duet with Nick Cave...a cover of The Zombies' song, "She's Not There." A rad song that, admittedly, is really made by Nick Cave. I'll give you a few minutes to listen...<br />
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Ready? (In other news, everyone needs to hear Nick Cave's version of. "Stagger Lee," it's totally filthy and awesome)
Anyone in Pittsburgh can tell you that the temperature can currently be described as "swamp-ass hot." Whilst waiting to go in, Gina and I toured the vast cultural offerings of Millvale, PA, including a Family Dollar, a closed cafe and diner (I mean my god, it's 7:00pm, why would you be open? This is another one of my favorite things about Pittsburgh), and an exotic bird supply store (also closed). Yeah, Your guess is as good as mine about that last one. We finally go in and find that the air-conditioner is practically non-existent and what cool air is available is not-so-subtly mixed with the acrid smell of cooked meats. This seems to be TOTALLY the kind of thing that Gina and I were referencing when we said, "cultural events."<br />
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Anyway, we're sweaty and sitting through a very sub-par opening woman that seemed nice and probably tore-up some karaoke in her hometown. Throughout these festivities, a couple named Mike and Tina/Tiffany(names have NOT been changed to protect the innocent), repeatedly accosted Gina and I (well, mostly Gina. I was trying really hard to be unfriendly) chatting about their celebrity lookalikes (Tina/Tiffany said that people likened her to Sarah Jessica Parker. This made me think of the line in Family Guy when Peter said that SJP's face looks like a foot), if they should try to go upstairs to sit in the VIP section, etc....all the while getting drunker and invading everyone's personal space. Finally Mike compliments Gina on her ability to pull off a short haircut and I look at Tina/Tiffany, who seems more lucid at this moment, like, "get your frat-boy boyfriend away from me." She storms off and is mad because Mike was putting the moves on Gina and (apparently) I was giving her a signal about it. Wow. Finally, a lovelorn Mike returns, sans Tina/Tiffany, and starts chatting with Gina about how he's not ready for a serious relationship. Ummmm...I'm just trying to watch some Neko Case. Finally, Gina and I say that he should probably GO and try to apologize to Tina/Tiffany, to which he says, "What, are you lesbians or what?!" Is this supposed to be a derogatory remark in response to suggesting that you make amends with your girlfriend...that you brought here....<i>on a date</i>?<br />
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I pull a wonderful employee of the venue aside and he whisks us through a forbidden door to the very back of the venue and away from the psychological drama of Mike and Tina/Tiffany. <strong>Relief!</strong> Ah, not so fast...
At this point, this adventure has already gotten a little heavy. I start fantasizing about Nick Cave suddenly bursting out onto stage and flipping a switch that would dump ice water on everyone in the crowd while he rips the microphone away and does a total unexpected version of, "Stagger Lee." Gina and I chat and laugh about a possible sighting of an ex, when this dude turns around and snaps, "We came here to hear her sing, not you talk." ADMITTEDLY, we were chatting. Admittedly, she was singing. Here's where I'm a little confused. If you're the biggest Neko Case fan that ever lived, you'd think that you'd find a different place to stand then the very back of the venue by the employee coats. That's why I wanted to stand there...as not to ruin anyone's experience with my general chatting and half-listening. Not only that, but you'd probably be more interested in her than your phone, which you were repeatedly checking because by the look of your totally hip white tennis shoes, white socks and weekender plaid shirt, I can venture that you're probably not a Doctor dashing off to deliver a baby. You would probably be so avid that you would be standing in the front, instead of wrapped around a beer bottle by the, "employees only sign." I mean, <em>my gawd</em> your love for Neko Case must only be surpassed by your love for french-kissing a Yuengling. I get that you're probably emasculated in every aspect of your life, but maybe save your repressed masculinity for chopping firewood, arm-wrestling or manicuring your middle-aged man beard.<br />
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With all this being said (and believe me, I love saying it), I'm totally okay with you asking us not to talk, but you could probably be nicer about it: a thought that Gina mentioned to him. In fact, I would also venture to bet that if Gina and I were outfitted with penii you wouldn't have said anything...at all. What's weird about this whole experience is while Neko Case goes on and on about her boyfriends or the sunsets or whatever the fuck she's talking about and these people are wearing wheat-coloured clothes and looking generally like granola yuppies, I have this revelation that maybe they're not really there to relax and listen to this woman at all. They're hear to find a partner, to be "aht on the tahn," to demean and verbally abuse women...whatever. I've had more respectful experiences at metal clubs with men outfitted in combat boots and devil spikes. Maybe everyone should have a health dose of Ministry in their lives, work some shit out in their minds, and then they wouldn't be so apt to be total yuppie fucks. Mostly, I blame this on the heat...as if I needed more ammunition for why summer totally blows goats.<br />
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When I ask Dustin if he wants to go somewhere. Really, <em>anywhere</em>...he always says, "Why would I want to do that?" I always used to think that he was just being socially awkward introverted, but fuck...maybe he's onto something.<br />
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If you need me, I'll be in front of the air-conditioner with a book.Ssejicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07555754699992063077noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6374777641274881419.post-19428508727619029132012-04-15T17:26:00.000-04:002012-04-15T17:26:52.730-04:00...The Former, not the latter...Today, I was eating my way through my parents house in a PMS-induced binge. I don't understand why I must be a slave to my hormones in this way, but I've learned to live with it and try to find the most healthy binge option, even if it means drinking seventeen cups of black coffee or a bunch of petite twizzlers. I know, my body is a temple.<br />
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Whilst dreaming of croissants and an Indian Buffet, I came across a Yahoo article:<br />
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<a href="http://shine.yahoo.com/beauty/former-plus-sized-model-crystal-renn-shadow-her-211700341.html" target="_blank">Former Plus-sized Model Crystal Renn a Shadow of Her Former Self</a><br />
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Apparently Crystal Renn is a former "plus size," model that "...was all the way up to a size 16," and touted the beauty of a fuller-figured woman. My first impression of articles like these usually boil down to two thoughts:<br />
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1. <strong>I have a hard time understanding why it is that we live in a culture that still cannot grant basic human rights to fat people.</strong> My friend "Vanessa," will often send articles about people that feel inspired to blame every major travesty on Earth on the existence of fat men and women. All of which piss me right the fuck off (My favorite was probably the one where clothing was more expensive because of fat people...even though 90% of clothing is made for less than 50% of the population, including all of those amazing designer fashions that are crafted by barefoot toddlers in the Amazon). There was a comment below this article that read something like, "I have no tolerance for fat people." Even if I wasn't fat, I'd have a hard time not being shocked that people are allowed to say things like this without being chastised by human rights activists. Then again, when was the last time you saw a sit-in for fat rights? Maybe if Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie adopted a fat person, we might finally see some action on this cause. For the record, I would really like for that fat person to be me. I would be a totally rad older sister to Maddox, Aerie, Banana Fannah, Shereux, and Purell...or whatever the fuck their names are. <br />
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2. <strong>Do people (when I say people I mean doctors, writers, article commenters, clothing designers, maxi pad designers, restaurateurs...) really believe that every fat person has the same diet and lifestyle?</strong> Really, you can't all be this fucking stupid. A lot of the aforementioned groups love to make fun of the "Fat but Fit," movement and marginalize those that they do not relate to, but I just can't really even comprehend the insanity of this notion. Fat people don't exercise. Thin people don't have unhealthy diets. Fat people always take the elevator. Thin people never eat fast food. <em>Fat no. Thin yes.</em> This kind of binary system doesn't cut it anywhere else in the world...except when we talk about weight and this is fascinating, confusing, startling, and saddening. When we live in a world where we can point at every person and say yes or no, we've not progressed as a society.<br />
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Crystal Renn's choice to lose weight and embrace the world of "normal" modeling isn't betraying fat women. She's never had any concept of what it's like to be a fat woman in the first place. Being a fat woman isn't just about a number on a scale, it's about dealing with being treated like an inferior specimen. It's about shopping from racks shoved in a corner in Macys. It's about the judgements every time you put food in your mouth in a restaurant. It's about knowing that everything that you have in life you must fight for twice as hard as your thin, "more attractive," contemporaries and knowing that you will never surpass them in your work or your social life...no matter how much smarter, more talented or kinder you are. Don't believe me? Then you've probably never been fat.<br />
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This woman lived a life of custom-made clothes; not shopping the clearance rack at Dress Barn in hopes of a dress that won't amply all the wrong places. She wasn't my advocate then and she's not my advocate now.<br />
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Especially with those bright white eyebrows. Oy vey. <br />
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Crystal, your only job is to maintain your appearance. My only job is to stay afloat.Ssejicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07555754699992063077noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6374777641274881419.post-6437733693918078532012-02-06T16:10:00.000-05:002012-02-06T16:10:55.914-05:00A Letter to the AFL-CIO.<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><em>This morning, I heard a story on NPR about how a new advertising campaign is being tested in <city w:st="on"><place w:st="on">Pittsburgh</place></city> to highlight how people are working together through the AFL-CIO to create a neighborhood that creates a nation. This ad was simple and tactful: highlighting how each of us is a piece that fits into the puzzle that is the <country-region w:st="on"><place w:st="on">United States</place></country-region>. A real tear-jerker...if you're into that sort of thing. </em></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><em>My father retired from the mill (what mill doesn't matter, it could be any mill. Couldn't it?) last year, and Mom continues to work on the non-union end of the same company where Dad retired. Dad's got a decent pension plan, but is permanently disabled from his work there. They believe in the power of unions to make a better life for workers. They believe in the power of an organization to create a union that provides a living wage and safe working conditions to its employees. They marched in the Labor Day parade under their local number x. They're some real goddamned Patriots.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></em></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><em>My husband came home from a contract job (his second) in <country-region w:st="on"><place w:st="on">Iraq</place></country-region> this September where he serviced vehicles and machinery for the military for seven days a week, twelve hours a day. It was hot and merciless and he came home only once in a year. We were grateful though, because this was the only job that he could find that came to providing a living wage for our family, while still allowing us to pay our insane student loan bills and put any money away for a rainy day (you know, like now). He's home now. He's jobless. Without job. On unemployment like the 8.3% of the nation that is actually reported for the 8.3% statistic. Even with my mother's recommendation at the mill, he can't even get an interview for any job there. Don't worry, though, the rampant nepotism that fills the union jobs ensures that the sons, cousins, and dog walkers of the men already in the union will have jobs for years to come. How is this enriching <country-region w:st="on"><place w:st="on">America</place></country-region> in the way that your advertising campaign cries? I suppose that getting your bratty kid a job is the way <country-region w:st="on"><place w:st="on">America</place></country-region> works now. So really, good job guys! </em></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><em>My own brush with union work is just as enriching. I tested and was accepted into a local here in <city w:st="on"><place w:st="on">Pittsburgh</place></city>, where I began an apprenticeship program whilst studying to become a journeyman. This local hired tons and tons of first-year apprentices and paid them nothing (I made more working at that devil Starbucks. You know, the one that won't unionize.), while their four-year apprentices were laid-off. Seasoned journeymen had to deal with greenhorns mucking up the jobsite and not even having the basic skills to really aid the site and the work, while fourth-year apprentices with experience and poise collected unemployment checks. Union execs sat in their offices with cherry desks and autographed baseballs in glass cases, whilst men and women shuffled to find ways to live on sixty percent of their income. When I handed my tools back to this man, I could see that the calluses on his hands had softened a long time ago and his head was harder than ever. </em></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><em>I can understand that your cause is a noble one, but not for our family. My parents and I differ greatly on what the union has done for our family and we are but one of the crowd that you wish to reach with this advertising. Good Luck with that. While there are plenty of men and women that you have “helped,” keep in mind that your campaign will not touch my jobless husband. Blame it on the economy if you want, but your campaign has clearly pointed out that we’re all in this together. Where will your culpability lie?</em></div>Ssejicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07555754699992063077noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6374777641274881419.post-83999564279161838722011-11-07T18:43:00.000-05:002011-11-07T18:43:54.329-05:00Civically AngelicI'm sure that anyone that isn't housed under a rock has already heard about the scandal that has engulfed Penn State. Apparently, a former coach has been arrested and charged with sexually assaulting eight children over the last fifteen years, while heading a football program for school-aged students. Along with these charges, two other Penn State administrators are being charged with covering up the abuse and not reporting this coach's actions to the authorities, and then lying about knowing about it before he was arrested. The entire story and the charges can be found <a href="http://tinyurl.com/5tog8tg" target="_blank">here</a> and the actions, the cover up and the charges for must be completely horrifying to all of the families of the victims and the accused. <br />
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I am not going to go into specifics about how heinous these crimes are, because we all know they are. Parents entrust their children to someone that claims to be helping them, only to find that he's a lecherous criminal. Even though I'm not a parent, I can understand the torment that that must be for them. My point of dissension is with the author of the article that informed me of this scandal: Dan Wetzel.<br />
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Wetzel's article, "<a href="http://rivals.yahoo.com/ncaa/football/news?slug=dw-wetzel_paterno_statement_raises_more_questions110611" target="_blank">Paterno statement in abuse case raises more questions</a>," all but places the severity of these charges solely on Paterno as a celebrity, rather than the Coach Gerald Arthur "Jerry" Sandusky or the administrators involved in the cover-up. In both the Attorney General's and Wetzel's articles, they recount how a graduate student had found Sandusky in a sexual act with a boy that looked to be only ten years old. That student then presented what he had seen to Paterno, and Paterno then forwarded this information on to Athletic Director Tim Curley, one of the men charged along with Sandusky. Wetzel, and I'm sure many others, are singling-out Paterno, saying that he should've promptly called the police and followed-up the Athletic Department's actions against Sandusky. Wetzel implies that just by the size of Paterno's fame, that he should be compelled to see justice to the end and do more than just release a statement to the media about the magnitude of these crimes. <br />
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I have a hard time believing that just because someone is more famous than someone else, that their civic duties are any grander than any other private citizen. If you actually think about the chain of events that surround this case, you can see that if Paterno did report these findings to the police, he would be reporting hearsay, which is groundless and, if incorrect, can ruin someone's life. Basically, it would go something like this, "I talked to a guy that saw a guy do this." What the hell? That's not evidence. Eventually an investigation was made because of accusations brought to light when Sandusky was coaching at another facility. One conversation, though, should hardly lead to an arrest, and if it does, Lord help the justice system and the boatloads of innocent people rotting behind bars.<br />
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Paterno's statement says, "...but he at no time related to me the very specific actions contained in the Grand Jury report. Regardless, it was clear that the witness saw something inappropriate involving Mr. Sandusky. As Coach Sandusky was retired from our coaching staff at that time, I referred the matter to university administrators." So, Paterno has no idea what actual acts occurred and can only surmise that something serious had occurred, according to the recount of another grown-ass man, Mike McQueary. McQueary, who witnessed these acts, had ever right and duty to report them to the police himself, as he was a first-hand witness to a crime. McQueary should be charged along with those administrators, as he was privy to a most disturbing crime and like Curley and Co., failed to do anything about it.<br />
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What Paterno did do, as would any other less-famous head coach, is contract his immediate superior and recount what had been said. McQueary was interviewed by Curley and Co. He recounted what he had viewed and these individuals did nothing to bring a sexual deviant to justice. It is here where the failure to report can really be placed, and that is just where the Attorney General is focusing its attention.<br />
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In today society, Celebrities like Charlie Sheen are applauded for their disgustingly base behavior, except for, I guess, when they're catapulted to a pedestal of unrealistic civic elitism.Ssejicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07555754699992063077noreply@blogger.com0