Well, here I sit, atop a mountain overlooking Charlotte Amalie harbour, on a sunny, warm December ---- hell, I don't even know - or care - what day it is. I guess that signifies I'm truly on vacation.
It's been interesting to say the least and I (thankfully) have six more days left. Unfortuntely, unlike work time, this vacation will go by like Flash Gordon on crank. Alas, the mystery of time. Speaking of time, things here move in comotose speed, which is totally foreign to me. In Atlanta, I never stop. Here, you aren't expected to do anything. I realized yesterday (my second day on the beach) that soon I would need to occupy my time with something or just resign myself to becoming sloth-like. This is actually a struggle as one should not practice laziness as it is a very, very difficult addiction to reverse. That being said, I've been known not to practice what I preach.
Has anyone read "The Life of Pi"? I ask this because it is the first book I've been able to read in two years. Baby Bro suggested it, but after page 26, I think this could be a tear jerker. I wish Dave Barry would crank out another one.
Speaking of tear jerkers, I've had the opportunity to see some of the wedding photos. Thankfully, the photographer knew enough about female pride that she took few photos of yours truly. I honestly had NO fucking idea how fat I really got when I quit smoking. As my bud, Party, would say, "Man, she's got more chins than a Chinese phonebook." To make matters worse, the dress I wore was a deep purple, which makes me look like a nuclear sized Concord grape. I can honestly say, I can appreciate both sides of the good and evil of getting sick and desperately depressed. While I was sick, I thought, "This can get no worse". Now, I see the point of suffering - whoo, sounds way too Catholic, but that's the only way to rationalize. Sad it took two months and 40 pounds for me to see this. Losing weight is simply calories in vs. calories out. Duh - as our mantra this week seems to be, "Here's your sign".
TV says HotLanta isn't that hot today. Mid 40s and storms. Today the weather here looks ominous - partly cloudy and in the 80s.
I've promised myself not to do anything technological while on this trip and since blogging qualifies, I've already screwed the pooch. I'll figure out how to upload photos later so everyone freezing their asses off can know I'm thinking about them.
Wednesday, December 28, 2005
Friday, December 16, 2005
Speaking of Death...
Here's a very interesting perspective on dying from an editorial from the AJC today...
A good life should end easily
By JACK REEVES
Published on: 12/16/05
Marvin died within seconds after the injection. Our veterinarian softly uttered, "There's no charge." My wife, Nancy, cradled our cat as I drove home. He was old, had a terminal illness, and suffered. Once a humane society kitten, we buried him with tears and honor. A stone and daffodils mark his grave.
The life of convicted killer Stanley "Tookie" Williams' ended Tuesday from injections of sodium pentothal, pancuronium bromide, and potassium chloride.
Pentothal induced unconsciousness within 30 seconds. Pancuronium bromide, a muscle relaxant, stopped breathing within a minute. Potassium chloride instantly stopped his heart. It was totally painless.
Nancy died of stage four cancer on Nov. 27. She was 66. Amid bodily anguish and horrid consciousness she pleaded twice: "I wish someone would give me a shot and I could go to sleep."
The hospice nurse came two days before. During her initial visit, she discussed with Nancy her living will, in which Nancy directed that "the application of life-sustaining procedures to [her] body , including nourishment and hydration, be withheld or withdrawn and that [she] be permitted to die."
For Nancy, there was no "shot" — only liquid morphine sulfate. Day and night I put measured doses under her tongue. Twice, though, she suddenly arose in bed, eyes wide staring at me, and screamed.
I'm haunted: What horror slouched through her soul?
She went through the stages of death for three days. Her temperature elevated, then she became colder as blood was being preserved by her failing organs. There is a death rattle: a gurgling sound produced by air passing through mucus in the lungs and air passages. Her breathing became difficult as her courageous heartbeat accelerated.
Some 48 hours after the hospice nurse was satisfied that all was in (legal) order, my beloved Nancy succumbed.
A friend and I were with her to the end. We had nothing to sufficiently palliate our suffering either.
Marvin's death occurred in seconds. Williams' occupied two unconscious minutes. We have mercy on pets and those who cruelly murder. But not for the Nancys.
The love of my life was past president of the Licensed Professional Counselors Association of Georgia, Counselor of the Year in 2005, and elected to the board of directors of the new LPCA Foundation. She was an extraordinary, good person.
I could not help her die without pain and terror. Nancy, even with morphine, experienced the private hell of her death — for days. I know. She screamed its horror to me.
"I wish someone would give me a shot and I could go to sleep."
Why can't we?
This truly epitomizes my opinion about allowing people to end their lives the way they want to go. Fuck you fundamentalist, sadistic, right-winged neo-Christians who think it's a sin to end your own life. This is the whole reason God gave us free will, dipshit. Or, did you skip that part of CCD?
A good life should end easily
By JACK REEVES
Published on: 12/16/05
Marvin died within seconds after the injection. Our veterinarian softly uttered, "There's no charge." My wife, Nancy, cradled our cat as I drove home. He was old, had a terminal illness, and suffered. Once a humane society kitten, we buried him with tears and honor. A stone and daffodils mark his grave.
The life of convicted killer Stanley "Tookie" Williams' ended Tuesday from injections of sodium pentothal, pancuronium bromide, and potassium chloride.
Pentothal induced unconsciousness within 30 seconds. Pancuronium bromide, a muscle relaxant, stopped breathing within a minute. Potassium chloride instantly stopped his heart. It was totally painless.
Nancy died of stage four cancer on Nov. 27. She was 66. Amid bodily anguish and horrid consciousness she pleaded twice: "I wish someone would give me a shot and I could go to sleep."
The hospice nurse came two days before. During her initial visit, she discussed with Nancy her living will, in which Nancy directed that "the application of life-sustaining procedures to [her] body , including nourishment and hydration, be withheld or withdrawn and that [she] be permitted to die."
For Nancy, there was no "shot" — only liquid morphine sulfate. Day and night I put measured doses under her tongue. Twice, though, she suddenly arose in bed, eyes wide staring at me, and screamed.
I'm haunted: What horror slouched through her soul?
She went through the stages of death for three days. Her temperature elevated, then she became colder as blood was being preserved by her failing organs. There is a death rattle: a gurgling sound produced by air passing through mucus in the lungs and air passages. Her breathing became difficult as her courageous heartbeat accelerated.
Some 48 hours after the hospice nurse was satisfied that all was in (legal) order, my beloved Nancy succumbed.
A friend and I were with her to the end. We had nothing to sufficiently palliate our suffering either.
Marvin's death occurred in seconds. Williams' occupied two unconscious minutes. We have mercy on pets and those who cruelly murder. But not for the Nancys.
The love of my life was past president of the Licensed Professional Counselors Association of Georgia, Counselor of the Year in 2005, and elected to the board of directors of the new LPCA Foundation. She was an extraordinary, good person.
I could not help her die without pain and terror. Nancy, even with morphine, experienced the private hell of her death — for days. I know. She screamed its horror to me.
"I wish someone would give me a shot and I could go to sleep."
Why can't we?
This truly epitomizes my opinion about allowing people to end their lives the way they want to go. Fuck you fundamentalist, sadistic, right-winged neo-Christians who think it's a sin to end your own life. This is the whole reason God gave us free will, dipshit. Or, did you skip that part of CCD?
Tuesday, December 13, 2005
You Didn't Say, "I'm Sorry"
What a load of crap. Schwarzenegger rejected Tookie William's clemency appeal because he didn't say, "I'm sorry". Fuck you, Arnie. If I didn't do something yet you were going to stick a deadly needle in my arm, what makes you think I'd sell out either? And before you say, "how do you know he didn't kill those folks", I'd ask you to look at the national headlines last week of that poor slop, Robert Clark, who spent 24 years in the STATE pen of Georgia for a crime he didn't commit. Hell, these rednecks were going to fry his ass as well if it weren't for the technology that he some how was able to acquire.
Speaking of sorry, death, and shear stupidity, how lame is it that Bush came out yesterday and compared his invasion of Iraq with the "struggles of the American founding fathers"? I'd just like to punch him in the mouth. That asshole doesn't even know his history, so I'd like to clarify a couple of points for him. First, the American founding fathers INVADED this country to run like scared, chicken-shit losers from those formidable, nasty, renegade Englishmen. Second, they butchered all the natives that were here so they could steal their land. Third, the founding fathers started their own fucking war because they wanted to be set loose from the English government. Slight difference to what we see today in Iraq. Today, Bush wanted oil and the overabundant rise in Neo-Conservative Christianity in a predominately Muslim nation. He lied to go to war (and those desendents of those founding fathers fell for it). The Iraqis - although shit upon by Saddam, still had a more peaceful existance than they can ever have now. Apples and oranges, dipshit.
And to say that Iraqis have lost 30,000 citizens since the Bush invasion - "give or take a few???" A few what? Are we counting pennies here or what?
Oh, and now I read that Bush says many other nations need a regime change before there is peace in the world. I say we start with the good ol' US of A.
Saturday, December 10, 2005
That's a Bitch, Rich
Richard Pryor passed away today. The world is now without one genius comedian.
Rest in peace.
Rest in peace.
Thursday, December 08, 2005
Georgia's Backward Ass Retards
I don't mean to offend backward ass retards, but just in one day's AJC you can find these little tidbits of awe from some of our local village idiots...
This morning, a 7-year-old boy was run down by a MARTA bus. Apparently, Junior was weaving his bike in and out of traffic when the bus hit him. Now, this wouldn't seem all that stupid except that the boy's father and uncle were on the bus and after they watched the kid get hit, they proceeded to beat the shit out of the bus driver. OK, let me get this straight, these two morons watch their son/nephew play chicken with a 4-ton MARTA bus and then proceed to beat the driver up??? Why the hell did they let the kid play in traffic in the first place? Some folks should just be neutered before they can re-populate the world with little morons.
Another brilliant move - Our illustrious governor has decided he would step in and help the Georgia Board of Regents select a new Chancellor. There were three candidates before this morning, one guy was the interim director, the other was a Chancellor from another State education system, and the third guy is an former energy company CEO with no educational experience at all. Guess who dipshit picked. I'll give you a hint: Sonny is a Republican. Yup, he selected the CEO. I guess he thinks education should be run like a business. What a heap of crap.
There is a big stink going around as to what people should call a fucking Christmas tree. Apparently, it isn't very PC to call it a Christmas tree since not everyone celebrates Christmas. A mayor in a very redneck town outside the City was not re-elected Tuesday because the tree he had put up at his City Hall was called "The Grand Tree", not a Christmas tree and the Bible-thumpers came right out of the woodwork and ran right to the polls. Dumb shit. Look, people. Jews don't have a tree, Muslims don't have a tree, and I'm pretty damn sure the Kwanza folks don't have one, either. Only the commercially-driven, usually Capitalist, Christians have a goddamn tree. It's a Christmas tree. I would think the Jews would have a problem if we told them they should rename the Menora the "Holiday Candlestick".
Speaking of trees and retards, don't ever send your roommate out alone to buy your tree. While I was in Borders yesterday, I tell Roomie, "Go over to Lowe's and see if you can find a little $30 five-footer". He comes back 20 minutes later with a fucking NINE footer. Hello, we only have 8-foot ceilings. Looks like the goddamn Grizwald family Christmas tree. It's so big, we can't see the TV from the couch and it hasn't even fully relaxed yet. Once it does, the branches are going to burst through the window. Roomie says that the tree actually costs 90 bucks, but they were mistagged so he got a great deal. Again, the Grizwald's ain't got nothing on us this year.
Oh, and there is fucking ice coming out of the sky. What's up with that? I put up with all this crap in Georgia because we're not supposed to get ice. What a rip.
This morning, a 7-year-old boy was run down by a MARTA bus. Apparently, Junior was weaving his bike in and out of traffic when the bus hit him. Now, this wouldn't seem all that stupid except that the boy's father and uncle were on the bus and after they watched the kid get hit, they proceeded to beat the shit out of the bus driver. OK, let me get this straight, these two morons watch their son/nephew play chicken with a 4-ton MARTA bus and then proceed to beat the driver up??? Why the hell did they let the kid play in traffic in the first place? Some folks should just be neutered before they can re-populate the world with little morons.
Another brilliant move - Our illustrious governor has decided he would step in and help the Georgia Board of Regents select a new Chancellor. There were three candidates before this morning, one guy was the interim director, the other was a Chancellor from another State education system, and the third guy is an former energy company CEO with no educational experience at all. Guess who dipshit picked. I'll give you a hint: Sonny is a Republican. Yup, he selected the CEO. I guess he thinks education should be run like a business. What a heap of crap.
There is a big stink going around as to what people should call a fucking Christmas tree. Apparently, it isn't very PC to call it a Christmas tree since not everyone celebrates Christmas. A mayor in a very redneck town outside the City was not re-elected Tuesday because the tree he had put up at his City Hall was called "The Grand Tree", not a Christmas tree and the Bible-thumpers came right out of the woodwork and ran right to the polls. Dumb shit. Look, people. Jews don't have a tree, Muslims don't have a tree, and I'm pretty damn sure the Kwanza folks don't have one, either. Only the commercially-driven, usually Capitalist, Christians have a goddamn tree. It's a Christmas tree. I would think the Jews would have a problem if we told them they should rename the Menora the "Holiday Candlestick".
Speaking of trees and retards, don't ever send your roommate out alone to buy your tree. While I was in Borders yesterday, I tell Roomie, "Go over to Lowe's and see if you can find a little $30 five-footer". He comes back 20 minutes later with a fucking NINE footer. Hello, we only have 8-foot ceilings. Looks like the goddamn Grizwald family Christmas tree. It's so big, we can't see the TV from the couch and it hasn't even fully relaxed yet. Once it does, the branches are going to burst through the window. Roomie says that the tree actually costs 90 bucks, but they were mistagged so he got a great deal. Again, the Grizwald's ain't got nothing on us this year.
Oh, and there is fucking ice coming out of the sky. What's up with that? I put up with all this crap in Georgia because we're not supposed to get ice. What a rip.
Friday, December 02, 2005
G-O-D Put him Here?
Here's an interesting insider opinion of where things really stand with regard to the Iraqi situation. Check out Seymour Hersh's (NY Mag) take. Beware, it's a little frightening.
http://www.newyorker.com/printables/fact/051205fa_fact
http://www.newyorker.com/printables/fact/051205fa_fact
Notes from a Treehugger
These came from a friend who works in the Environmental/Sanitation department on campus:
Recycling one aluminum can saves enough energy to run a TV for 2 hours.
Recycling all of the paper used in the Sunday edition of the New York Times would save 75,000 trees per year.
Throwing away an aluminum can wastes as much energy as pouring out a soda can half-filled with gasoline.
The energy saved from recycling a glass bottle will light a 100-watt bulb for four hours.
Replacing one incandescent lamp (light bulb) with a fluorescent one, saves 500 tons of coal.
Americans comprise about five percent of the world's population, and produce 27% of the world's garbage.
We must be so proud.
Recycling one aluminum can saves enough energy to run a TV for 2 hours.
Recycling all of the paper used in the Sunday edition of the New York Times would save 75,000 trees per year.
Throwing away an aluminum can wastes as much energy as pouring out a soda can half-filled with gasoline.
The energy saved from recycling a glass bottle will light a 100-watt bulb for four hours.
Replacing one incandescent lamp (light bulb) with a fluorescent one, saves 500 tons of coal.
Americans comprise about five percent of the world's population, and produce 27% of the world's garbage.
We must be so proud.
Tuesday, November 29, 2005
Ponche
Surfing the web for another recipe, I fall upon this little ditty.
It must have been the evil twin that happened upon this one considering I was originally looking for a pecan pie recipe.
This is for a hot holiday punch with a Spanish vida ("Ponche"). Considering I can get all these ingredients at the Farmer's Market, I'm thinking of renting a vendor's stand and brew some up to feed to the other veggie vendors over the winter. Too bad the licensing for selling booze in that part of the state is such a pain in the ass. And really, who wants a punch with no "punch", especially the ass-bustin' Latinos who have to work in the freezing cold.
Just think the lost capitialistic opportunity to sell poncho to Latino workers for three bucks a shot. Considering they sell me fruits and vegetables at NO less than 90 percent than the grocery there's a wicked potential market there. I guess we should thank the radical Christian Coalition for ensuring this would not be possible.
Alas, enjoy yet something else for the holidays...
Ponche
2 Golden Delicious apples, peeled, cored, and cut in 1/8ths
3/4 cup raisins
1 pound guava, quartered
3 (3 to 4-inch) pieces sugarcane, each cut in strips
1/2 cup prunes
1/2 pound crabapples, peeled and cored
2 cups (1-inch) diced pineapple
1 cup sugar
4 (2-inch) pieces Mexican cinnamon
8 cups water
Tequila
In a large pot, place the fruit, sugar, cinnamon, and 8 cups of water. Bring to a boil and lower heat and simmer for 1 hour. Serve hot in a mug that has a shot of tequila in it.
It must have been the evil twin that happened upon this one considering I was originally looking for a pecan pie recipe.
This is for a hot holiday punch with a Spanish vida ("Ponche"). Considering I can get all these ingredients at the Farmer's Market, I'm thinking of renting a vendor's stand and brew some up to feed to the other veggie vendors over the winter. Too bad the licensing for selling booze in that part of the state is such a pain in the ass. And really, who wants a punch with no "punch", especially the ass-bustin' Latinos who have to work in the freezing cold.
Just think the lost capitialistic opportunity to sell poncho to Latino workers for three bucks a shot. Considering they sell me fruits and vegetables at NO less than 90 percent than the grocery there's a wicked potential market there. I guess we should thank the radical Christian Coalition for ensuring this would not be possible.
Alas, enjoy yet something else for the holidays...
Ponche
2 Golden Delicious apples, peeled, cored, and cut in 1/8ths
3/4 cup raisins
1 pound guava, quartered
3 (3 to 4-inch) pieces sugarcane, each cut in strips
1/2 cup prunes
1/2 pound crabapples, peeled and cored
2 cups (1-inch) diced pineapple
1 cup sugar
4 (2-inch) pieces Mexican cinnamon
8 cups water
Tequila
In a large pot, place the fruit, sugar, cinnamon, and 8 cups of water. Bring to a boil and lower heat and simmer for 1 hour. Serve hot in a mug that has a shot of tequila in it.
Back from the Desert
Well, not two days back from Phoenix and I already want to go back. What an awesome time. I was only out there for three days, but it felt like an hour. Phoenix is really a beatiful place. It is smack dab in the middle of a valley, surrounded by mountains and the weather - sun, 75 degrees and 25% humidity. Of course, I come back to Atlanta to rain, 50 degrees, and 95% humidity. Blah! Girlfriend says the summers are miserable, though. The AC does not stop and nobody wants to do anything outside. I thought we had it bad here, but we get humidity where she says it's like a giant hairdryer.
My boss told me that when I got back, I'd feel claustrophobic because Phoenix only has a couple of carefully placed palm trees and NO high rise buildings. It really was weird not seeing anything really over 3 stories. They're building 75 story monsters in downtown right now.
Had loads of fun, though. Highly recommend it.
Now, it's back to the old, boring ass job. I have had nothing at all to do today. What a joke. They're paying me so much money to literally read the news and blog. Alas, if I don't find something interesting to do - really, really soon - I'm headed for trouble. At least I'm doing my three mile run at lunch now instead of waiting to get home. It helps to break up the day when you can take a 2 hour lunch and get the exercise portion of the day done. A lady in my office stopped me this morning and asked how much weight I had lost. According to the scale, it's around 40 lbs. Not too shabby, but after trying to lose one pound in two years, the fattage is now flying off. Girlfriend and I even went shopping for girl clothes and I've managed to get into a size 6. I haven't been a 6 since I was 18 years old. Pretty cool. The secret is definately no processed food, no beer and a minimum of 3 miles and 1 hour of yoga a day. Now if I could just find a place that sells bathing suits in December for the St. Thomas trip.
Ah well, I guess I better get my ass up and do something. Maybe I'll walk to the other side of campus. At least the sun finally came out.
My boss told me that when I got back, I'd feel claustrophobic because Phoenix only has a couple of carefully placed palm trees and NO high rise buildings. It really was weird not seeing anything really over 3 stories. They're building 75 story monsters in downtown right now.
Had loads of fun, though. Highly recommend it.
Now, it's back to the old, boring ass job. I have had nothing at all to do today. What a joke. They're paying me so much money to literally read the news and blog. Alas, if I don't find something interesting to do - really, really soon - I'm headed for trouble. At least I'm doing my three mile run at lunch now instead of waiting to get home. It helps to break up the day when you can take a 2 hour lunch and get the exercise portion of the day done. A lady in my office stopped me this morning and asked how much weight I had lost. According to the scale, it's around 40 lbs. Not too shabby, but after trying to lose one pound in two years, the fattage is now flying off. Girlfriend and I even went shopping for girl clothes and I've managed to get into a size 6. I haven't been a 6 since I was 18 years old. Pretty cool. The secret is definately no processed food, no beer and a minimum of 3 miles and 1 hour of yoga a day. Now if I could just find a place that sells bathing suits in December for the St. Thomas trip.
Ah well, I guess I better get my ass up and do something. Maybe I'll walk to the other side of campus. At least the sun finally came out.
Tuesday, November 22, 2005
Rest in Peace
Dear Sam,
You will be sadly missed on this Earth. Rest in Peace.
Alright, he might be ugly - well, really, really ugly, but everyone has someone in the world that loves them and Sam's owner is missing the little guy.
You will be sadly missed on this Earth. Rest in Peace.
Alright, he might be ugly - well, really, really ugly, but everyone has someone in the world that loves them and Sam's owner is missing the little guy.
All I Want for Christmas is...
Bugatti Veyron
Right. Like I could possibly drive something like this. Lest we not forget the asking price, either. I'm sure I have a body part that I could sell that would make up the difference in the $1.2 Million price tag.
Monday, November 21, 2005
The Perils of Being an Urban Pioneer
Warning:
Diatribe Ahead
So, I'm a slacker when it comes to our neighbourhood meetings, but #1 I don't like meetings and #2 it starts at 7 PM and because nobody knows how to hold a meeting, the thing can go on for hours. I handled it pretty well Monday night, considering my moral and ethical belief system was all but assaulted by this Capitalist, Bush-lovin' slug...
Perhaps some background before the verbal assaults begin:
If you don't already know, Atlanta has no mass transit system. Well, we have M.A.R.T.A. which stands for Metro Atlanta Rapid Transit Authority.
----Heee, let's see if my Mum really reads my blog:
Want to know what I found out the other day? Old time Rednecks think MARTA stands for... "Moving Africans Rapidly Through Atlanta". Damn!
Anyway, MARTA doesn’t go anywhere you need to go. It simply runs a north-south, east-west route with a stop every 2 miles or so. Lots of good the train does you. And don’t even think of riding the bus unless you carry a handgun! So Atlanta now has an opportunity to develop this idea for light trolley and rail using rehabilitated existing rail lines connecting them with parks, neighbourhoods, tourist areas, etc. It is something that I am eagerly backing because it really will bring Atlanta into that "International Spotlight" that it’s been craving since 1996. You can see more about it at http://www.beltlinepartnership.org.
Along with the light rail, there are propositions to have more greenspace added around the rail. Atlanta has the least amount of greenspace of all the cities in the country the same size or larger, so for us tree-huggin’, Socialist-types, green is good. However, as I was reminded Monday night, some people think that since green places don’t generate revenue, they are not worth the effort.
That being said, a parallel project has been initiated by our very, very enthusiastic neighbourhood president (who we will call “Dippy”) and her completely annoying partner in crime, who happens to be a Capitalist, elitist (or is that redundant?) architect/developer (who we will call Rupert). They have come up with something called the Chosewood Park Development Corporation. Dippy, of course, has elected herself as the “Interim Director” of this little ditty. These two, along with some students in Rupert’s class at GT, have come up with a very ambitious, almost fantasy, concept to redevelop “The Hood”.
Now, if you don’t know, Chosewood Park (aka “The ‘Hood) consists of a City of Atlanta Watershed yard, a low-income apartment complex, single-family homes, oh yeah… and the fucking projects. To add more salt to this festering wound, most of the single-family homes are owned by unscrupulous people who rent their homes out to Section 8 families and most of the other properties are owned by the City of Atlanta. Needless to say, they are mostly dilapidated, shitholes, which makes them very lucrative to the City. Most of Dippy’s project requires the City to sell most of their property and as a graduate in Environmental Development; I know this has a snowball’s chance in hell.
The City has been involved with something called the Hope VI (Empowerment Zone) program since before the Olympics in ’96. This is a federally funded program that gives money to the city to demolish very old, very unsavory housing projects and rebuild them under the tenant “Mixed-income”. This means that the property will be rebuilt with nice, attractive apartments and townhomes and those that can afford the rent/mortgage pay it, and those that can’t afford it pay what they can and the rest is subsidized by the government’s plan. Boy, I can hear the Capitalists screaming from here, but it really does work and I will tell you why. Unlike Section 8 (which I’ll blab about in a minute), the people who participate in the Mixed-income program W-A-N-T to be there. These folks are hard-working, have no criminal record, keep their homes tidy, etc. The bottom line is that good, hard-working people deserve that break or two that most people attain through no action of their own.
Do not confuse mixed-income with Section 8. Section 8 is another HUD funded program, but this one is much, much different. Section 8 folks pay what they can based on their income, then receive money from HUD to cover the rest. They can rent a house anywhere they want as long as the landlord accepts them and in Chosewood, there are lots of ‘em. See, if you have a Section 8 renter, you are almost guaranteed 70-80% of your rent even if your tenant defaults on their part. Most of the houses they rent out are crap, so what if you only get part of your rent? Chances are the landlords own the house outright because they bought them in the late ‘70s and ’80 when whitey was making the great exodus to the suburbs and property values plummeted.
Section 8 folks are, for the most part, a little different than those who qualify for Mixed-income. First, most (not all Section 8) are the “I deserve a handout because …” –type. Second, Section 8 is not enforced at all. Nobody living in a Section 8 house can have a criminal record and if anyone is arrested and convicted while living in the house, the entire family is supposed to move. This does not happen, I promise. But, again, not all folks on Section 8 fall into this category.
For example, I have two Section 8 families next to me. One family on my right another one right across the street. The family that lives to my right is headed by a very, very hardworking, strong woman. She works 9 hours a day, 6 days a week. When her derelict daughter got hooked on crack, she kicked her out of the house and took custody of her grandchildren. She never has loud parties and keeps her house clean inside and out. Best of all, she respects us as her neigbours and we reciprocate.
Then there are the pigs across the street. Hmmmmm, where do we start? Mama works (at least I think she does). She has anywhere from 8-12 people, mostly teenagers, hanging out in the front yard all day, everyday. Most of these folks are hanging in the front yard so they can sell weed and crack to those unsavories that pass through the ‘Hood. They are not in school and do not hold jobs – unless you consider selling crack a “job”. The constantly blare hip-hop music until late at night and there is always trash all over their yard, which blows into my yard. They have completely destroyed the fence that the landlord installed around the front yard and they genuinely do not give a shit about where they live or what they do. We’ve called the police on them countless times and several times some of the little shits have actually been picked up.
And they are still there. Section 8 only works for a very, very small percentage of people. Those who do not feel like they deserve a “handout” and are willing to work to earn their right to a decent home are the minority.
OK – so back to the meeting on Monday. Although this was supposed to be a meeting to discuss ‘Hood issues, Dippy and Rupert used it as a platform to promote their development plan to us. This plan, which they only asked input on after it was completed, was pitched heavily to us only after we had a presentation from a lady working for the Trust for Public Lands. The plan the TPL presented showed hundred of acres of land they wanted to purchase in order to establish more public greenspace. Some of this land is in Chosewood, but of course, it was land that Dippy and Rupert earmarked for “retail and commercial” space.
So Dippy stands up and says, “Oh what a great idea, but you can’t have any of the land in Chosewood because we have other plans.” Well, this just starts this cozy little dialogue between Dippy/Rupert and the TPL. Basically Rupert goes on his gig about how greenspace doesn’t generate revenue and jobs are what we need in our ‘Hood. I guess he means jobs like selling shoes or something because every crack dealer making ten grand a week wants to work like a dog earning minimum wage. Anyway this little dispute went on for over an hour – again because Dippy doesn’t know how to run a meeting and call for a sidebar.
Then, just to be sure to really piss me off, after the TPL leaves, Rupert takes it upon himself to begin lecturing us on how we don’t want greenspace and parks, what we really want it retail, shopping, and restaurants. What we want? He also said that the TPL has the same agenda as the Sierra Club (a group I support) and that they need to just find other land as opposed to Chosewood properties. It was about that time that I almost stood up and bitch-slapped him.
Oh, but it gets better. After all this discussion, Dippy says we need to elect officers to her new Corporation. She volunteers to be the President, which everyone but me voted “yes” and then we finished with almost all the other officers except one – and here’s the coupe de grace - Dippy says we need a Corporation Representative. What the hell this is, I haven’t a clue, but she says, “Since Rupert has done all this work on our development, I think it would be a good idea to nominate him. Well, Dippy, Rupert doesn’t live in our “Hood. He lives in a trendy, Jewish condo complex in Midtown. When someone mentions Rupert’s potential conflict of interest, he gallantly steps up and says, “I do realize my participation in this corporation could invite such arguments. After all, I do stand to make a ton of money off this development”. Those fucking idiots I call neigbours still voted him in.
We have decided that that will be the last meeting we attend. First, I have a degree in Environmental Development, which is a concept regarding developments that keep nature and the environment as the first priority – the almighty dollar ranks about 4th on the list. Second, the City isn’t going to sell their land. Third, know your audience before you attempt to grand stand all your useless, arrogant knowledge and try to force feed it down my gullet.
I had thought about telling Dippy and Rupert to stick their project somewhere darker than the shelf, but I think I’m just going to team up with the Trust for Public Land and make sure they put a park or greenspace – or whatever will fuck up Dippy’s project. – dead smack in the middle of the ‘Hood. It’s always better to play dirty.
Diatribe over.
Diatribe Ahead
So, I'm a slacker when it comes to our neighbourhood meetings, but #1 I don't like meetings and #2 it starts at 7 PM and because nobody knows how to hold a meeting, the thing can go on for hours. I handled it pretty well Monday night, considering my moral and ethical belief system was all but assaulted by this Capitalist, Bush-lovin' slug...
Perhaps some background before the verbal assaults begin:
If you don't already know, Atlanta has no mass transit system. Well, we have M.A.R.T.A. which stands for Metro Atlanta Rapid Transit Authority.
----Heee, let's see if my Mum really reads my blog:
Want to know what I found out the other day? Old time Rednecks think MARTA stands for... "Moving Africans Rapidly Through Atlanta". Damn!
Anyway, MARTA doesn’t go anywhere you need to go. It simply runs a north-south, east-west route with a stop every 2 miles or so. Lots of good the train does you. And don’t even think of riding the bus unless you carry a handgun! So Atlanta now has an opportunity to develop this idea for light trolley and rail using rehabilitated existing rail lines connecting them with parks, neighbourhoods, tourist areas, etc. It is something that I am eagerly backing because it really will bring Atlanta into that "International Spotlight" that it’s been craving since 1996. You can see more about it at http://www.beltlinepartnership.org.
Along with the light rail, there are propositions to have more greenspace added around the rail. Atlanta has the least amount of greenspace of all the cities in the country the same size or larger, so for us tree-huggin’, Socialist-types, green is good. However, as I was reminded Monday night, some people think that since green places don’t generate revenue, they are not worth the effort.
That being said, a parallel project has been initiated by our very, very enthusiastic neighbourhood president (who we will call “Dippy”) and her completely annoying partner in crime, who happens to be a Capitalist, elitist (or is that redundant?) architect/developer (who we will call Rupert). They have come up with something called the Chosewood Park Development Corporation. Dippy, of course, has elected herself as the “Interim Director” of this little ditty. These two, along with some students in Rupert’s class at GT, have come up with a very ambitious, almost fantasy, concept to redevelop “The Hood”.
Now, if you don’t know, Chosewood Park (aka “The ‘Hood) consists of a City of Atlanta Watershed yard, a low-income apartment complex, single-family homes, oh yeah… and the fucking projects. To add more salt to this festering wound, most of the single-family homes are owned by unscrupulous people who rent their homes out to Section 8 families and most of the other properties are owned by the City of Atlanta. Needless to say, they are mostly dilapidated, shitholes, which makes them very lucrative to the City. Most of Dippy’s project requires the City to sell most of their property and as a graduate in Environmental Development; I know this has a snowball’s chance in hell.
The City has been involved with something called the Hope VI (Empowerment Zone) program since before the Olympics in ’96. This is a federally funded program that gives money to the city to demolish very old, very unsavory housing projects and rebuild them under the tenant “Mixed-income”. This means that the property will be rebuilt with nice, attractive apartments and townhomes and those that can afford the rent/mortgage pay it, and those that can’t afford it pay what they can and the rest is subsidized by the government’s plan. Boy, I can hear the Capitalists screaming from here, but it really does work and I will tell you why. Unlike Section 8 (which I’ll blab about in a minute), the people who participate in the Mixed-income program W-A-N-T to be there. These folks are hard-working, have no criminal record, keep their homes tidy, etc. The bottom line is that good, hard-working people deserve that break or two that most people attain through no action of their own.
Do not confuse mixed-income with Section 8. Section 8 is another HUD funded program, but this one is much, much different. Section 8 folks pay what they can based on their income, then receive money from HUD to cover the rest. They can rent a house anywhere they want as long as the landlord accepts them and in Chosewood, there are lots of ‘em. See, if you have a Section 8 renter, you are almost guaranteed 70-80% of your rent even if your tenant defaults on their part. Most of the houses they rent out are crap, so what if you only get part of your rent? Chances are the landlords own the house outright because they bought them in the late ‘70s and ’80 when whitey was making the great exodus to the suburbs and property values plummeted.
Section 8 folks are, for the most part, a little different than those who qualify for Mixed-income. First, most (not all Section 8) are the “I deserve a handout because …” –type. Second, Section 8 is not enforced at all. Nobody living in a Section 8 house can have a criminal record and if anyone is arrested and convicted while living in the house, the entire family is supposed to move. This does not happen, I promise. But, again, not all folks on Section 8 fall into this category.
For example, I have two Section 8 families next to me. One family on my right another one right across the street. The family that lives to my right is headed by a very, very hardworking, strong woman. She works 9 hours a day, 6 days a week. When her derelict daughter got hooked on crack, she kicked her out of the house and took custody of her grandchildren. She never has loud parties and keeps her house clean inside and out. Best of all, she respects us as her neigbours and we reciprocate.
Then there are the pigs across the street. Hmmmmm, where do we start? Mama works (at least I think she does). She has anywhere from 8-12 people, mostly teenagers, hanging out in the front yard all day, everyday. Most of these folks are hanging in the front yard so they can sell weed and crack to those unsavories that pass through the ‘Hood. They are not in school and do not hold jobs – unless you consider selling crack a “job”. The constantly blare hip-hop music until late at night and there is always trash all over their yard, which blows into my yard. They have completely destroyed the fence that the landlord installed around the front yard and they genuinely do not give a shit about where they live or what they do. We’ve called the police on them countless times and several times some of the little shits have actually been picked up.
And they are still there. Section 8 only works for a very, very small percentage of people. Those who do not feel like they deserve a “handout” and are willing to work to earn their right to a decent home are the minority.
OK – so back to the meeting on Monday. Although this was supposed to be a meeting to discuss ‘Hood issues, Dippy and Rupert used it as a platform to promote their development plan to us. This plan, which they only asked input on after it was completed, was pitched heavily to us only after we had a presentation from a lady working for the Trust for Public Lands. The plan the TPL presented showed hundred of acres of land they wanted to purchase in order to establish more public greenspace. Some of this land is in Chosewood, but of course, it was land that Dippy and Rupert earmarked for “retail and commercial” space.
So Dippy stands up and says, “Oh what a great idea, but you can’t have any of the land in Chosewood because we have other plans.” Well, this just starts this cozy little dialogue between Dippy/Rupert and the TPL. Basically Rupert goes on his gig about how greenspace doesn’t generate revenue and jobs are what we need in our ‘Hood. I guess he means jobs like selling shoes or something because every crack dealer making ten grand a week wants to work like a dog earning minimum wage. Anyway this little dispute went on for over an hour – again because Dippy doesn’t know how to run a meeting and call for a sidebar.
Then, just to be sure to really piss me off, after the TPL leaves, Rupert takes it upon himself to begin lecturing us on how we don’t want greenspace and parks, what we really want it retail, shopping, and restaurants. What we want? He also said that the TPL has the same agenda as the Sierra Club (a group I support) and that they need to just find other land as opposed to Chosewood properties. It was about that time that I almost stood up and bitch-slapped him.
Oh, but it gets better. After all this discussion, Dippy says we need to elect officers to her new Corporation. She volunteers to be the President, which everyone but me voted “yes” and then we finished with almost all the other officers except one – and here’s the coupe de grace - Dippy says we need a Corporation Representative. What the hell this is, I haven’t a clue, but she says, “Since Rupert has done all this work on our development, I think it would be a good idea to nominate him. Well, Dippy, Rupert doesn’t live in our “Hood. He lives in a trendy, Jewish condo complex in Midtown. When someone mentions Rupert’s potential conflict of interest, he gallantly steps up and says, “I do realize my participation in this corporation could invite such arguments. After all, I do stand to make a ton of money off this development”. Those fucking idiots I call neigbours still voted him in.
We have decided that that will be the last meeting we attend. First, I have a degree in Environmental Development, which is a concept regarding developments that keep nature and the environment as the first priority – the almighty dollar ranks about 4th on the list. Second, the City isn’t going to sell their land. Third, know your audience before you attempt to grand stand all your useless, arrogant knowledge and try to force feed it down my gullet.
I had thought about telling Dippy and Rupert to stick their project somewhere darker than the shelf, but I think I’m just going to team up with the Trust for Public Land and make sure they put a park or greenspace – or whatever will fuck up Dippy’s project. – dead smack in the middle of the ‘Hood. It’s always better to play dirty.
Diatribe over.
Thursday, November 17, 2005
Look Who Came to Visit!
Holy sheeeeettttt! Twenty-nine degrees - in the City - by 5:00AM! The cats have overtaken the den where I have the itty-bitty, electricity-guzzling, space heater. I tried to walk in there a minute ago and they didn't want to spare any body heat. They kicked me out.
However, I hear that New Englanders will wake up to the "zeros".
Just when you think you have it bad...
Wednesday, November 16, 2005
Tuesday, November 15, 2005
My Name is Earl
You must watch this show. Maybe it's the Augusta in me, but lines like this are too familiar...
Think really, really country accent...
Joy (drying her hair): "I'm sweatin' like a whore in church. No offense, Charlene."
Charlene: "Oh, nun taken. I don't go to church."
Think really, really country accent...
Joy (drying her hair): "I'm sweatin' like a whore in church. No offense, Charlene."
Charlene: "Oh, nun taken. I don't go to church."
Sunday, November 13, 2005
The SEC Rules
Auburn 31 - Georgia 30
The B-E-S-T college football game I can ever remember. What a blast. If I had only been in a betting mood, I could have cleaned house yesterday! Alabama also lost out to LSU in another killer game, and I listened to Spurrier give Florida a royal ass whopping. The SEC has to be the best conference out there - screw the Pac 10 and that useless USC (yup, we're still a little bitter over that rip off from last year).
We might not be coming to Atlanta this January, but at least we beat the Daaawwggggss. Woof, woof, woof.
Life in General
Well, you know you're going to have it rough when your astrological sign goes "retrograde" for three - count 'em three - weeks. According to today's horoscopes, we Geminis should expect communication and travel to be extremely difficult if not impossible. Timing couldn't be any better considering I'm flying across the country next week and I'm depending on my phenominal communication talent to get myself another job - hopefully, landing something before next year. Go figure, that crafty Mercury would go on hiatus right when I really need him (he must still be pissed about the Yin and Yang tats). He'd better be back in three weeks, though. I guess lots of patience is in order.
Speaking of life in general, here's my "Life Grade". I think it's a little off in the finance department, but otherwise not too bad. Thanks to my pal at Yorkshire Soul for the link. Try it and see what yours is...
Well, after two weeks, the sandpaper will be put away. Now it's time to prime and work the plaster. I really wanted to get the plaster done before the rain (since it hasn't rained her in six weeks, the humidity level is hovering around 10%), but my slack ass didn't make that deadline. Speaking of deadlines, if I don't bust my ass this weekend, my deadline to finish the dining room before I leave for Arizona will be shot. Unfortunately, there is just so much other stuff going on and I have to sit in a dead-end job doing nothing but blogging and reading the news eight hours a day.
I guess it's time to get back to it. I may even sneak home at lunch and start some priming. Vapours could help lighten my mood, if not kill the last remaining brain cell.
Speaking of life in general, here's my "Life Grade". I think it's a little off in the finance department, but otherwise not too bad. Thanks to my pal at Yorkshire Soul for the link. Try it and see what yours is...
| This Is My Life, Rated | |
| Life: |  6.6 |
| Mind: | 6.7 |
| Body: |  7.5 |
| Spirit: | 6.7 |
| Friends/Family: |  5.4 |
| Love: |  4.6 |
| Finance: | 7.8 |
| Take the Rate My Life Quiz | |
Well, after two weeks, the sandpaper will be put away. Now it's time to prime and work the plaster. I really wanted to get the plaster done before the rain (since it hasn't rained her in six weeks, the humidity level is hovering around 10%), but my slack ass didn't make that deadline. Speaking of deadlines, if I don't bust my ass this weekend, my deadline to finish the dining room before I leave for Arizona will be shot. Unfortunately, there is just so much other stuff going on and I have to sit in a dead-end job doing nothing but blogging and reading the news eight hours a day.
I guess it's time to get back to it. I may even sneak home at lunch and start some priming. Vapours could help lighten my mood, if not kill the last remaining brain cell.
Thursday, November 10, 2005
A Vegetarian View on Thanksgiving
Only we strict veg-heads would appreciate this upon the arrival of Thanksgiving...
Damn, that was rude, but have you forgotten who you're dealing with?
This really is so very sad considering how many people are dying from bird flu and how little vaccine there is to combat it. How is it that the drug companies still can't make enough of this Tamiflu even though this threat has been out there for so long? I know... we schmucks aren't paying them as much as we are the oil companies.
Speaking of rude, we're gonna gang up on Cat-man and tell him 1) no more cats and 2) M-A-S-S-I-V-E amounts of therapy are on the horizon or he's totally fucked. Mum says, "You wouldn't be so mean". Again, forget who you're dealing with??
Big party tomorrow at Spanky. A good friend retired after 20 years at Tech so we can only celebrate with lots of really cold beer and really good food. Between hamburgers, hot dogs, potato salad, deviled eggs, jalapeno cornbread, and fudge chocolate cake - it will be a struggle to keep the poundage off. However, Mum surprised me with a trip to St. Thomas for the holidays. Since I haven't been to a beach at under 125 lbs since I was 18 years old - I have incentive. That goddamn exercise ball has been my buddy again ever since I started feeling better. If you think you can do sit-ups on the floor, try it on the ball. Big - HUGE - improvement factor. Of course, after cleaning and moving out 6 or 7 cat kennels from Cat-man's this morning, the ball will have to wait for a day.
Speaking of balls, Terrell Owens needs his teeth kicked in. No, I'm not even remotely qualified to do the job, but please. What a dipshit. If I were Donovan McNabb, I do it, though. Thank God the Eagles told him to jump off a short bridge. What an asshole-ee-oo.
And back to Thanksgiving - I'm oh so looking forward to going to the big AZ. Gail and I are planning on dragging out her fake 12' tall tree and decorating it. Cannot wait to see the final product as she is a Gin and Tonic girl and I'm a Rum and Coke girl. We'll be lucky if the fucking tree doesn't wind up in the neighbour's house. We might even swing some clubs since the weather is supposed to be in the high 70's. Weather here was like that until last night. Then those fucking Canadians sent down a cold front that drop the temp like no other. Of course, the cold front is preceeded by 15-20 mpg wind. The acorns and pecans fell in tandom. Sounded like godamned downtown Baghdad. Alas, I almost busted my ass stepping off the back stairs and I'm still recovering from the ladder/screen door incident.
Ah well, must check the vegetarian (yet still awesome) cornbread and try to frost a cake without licking the spoon.
Damn, that was rude, but have you forgotten who you're dealing with?
This really is so very sad considering how many people are dying from bird flu and how little vaccine there is to combat it. How is it that the drug companies still can't make enough of this Tamiflu even though this threat has been out there for so long? I know... we schmucks aren't paying them as much as we are the oil companies.
Speaking of rude, we're gonna gang up on Cat-man and tell him 1) no more cats and 2) M-A-S-S-I-V-E amounts of therapy are on the horizon or he's totally fucked. Mum says, "You wouldn't be so mean". Again, forget who you're dealing with??
Big party tomorrow at Spanky. A good friend retired after 20 years at Tech so we can only celebrate with lots of really cold beer and really good food. Between hamburgers, hot dogs, potato salad, deviled eggs, jalapeno cornbread, and fudge chocolate cake - it will be a struggle to keep the poundage off. However, Mum surprised me with a trip to St. Thomas for the holidays. Since I haven't been to a beach at under 125 lbs since I was 18 years old - I have incentive. That goddamn exercise ball has been my buddy again ever since I started feeling better. If you think you can do sit-ups on the floor, try it on the ball. Big - HUGE - improvement factor. Of course, after cleaning and moving out 6 or 7 cat kennels from Cat-man's this morning, the ball will have to wait for a day.
Speaking of balls, Terrell Owens needs his teeth kicked in. No, I'm not even remotely qualified to do the job, but please. What a dipshit. If I were Donovan McNabb, I do it, though. Thank God the Eagles told him to jump off a short bridge. What an asshole-ee-oo.
And back to Thanksgiving - I'm oh so looking forward to going to the big AZ. Gail and I are planning on dragging out her fake 12' tall tree and decorating it. Cannot wait to see the final product as she is a Gin and Tonic girl and I'm a Rum and Coke girl. We'll be lucky if the fucking tree doesn't wind up in the neighbour's house. We might even swing some clubs since the weather is supposed to be in the high 70's. Weather here was like that until last night. Then those fucking Canadians sent down a cold front that drop the temp like no other. Of course, the cold front is preceeded by 15-20 mpg wind. The acorns and pecans fell in tandom. Sounded like godamned downtown Baghdad. Alas, I almost busted my ass stepping off the back stairs and I'm still recovering from the ladder/screen door incident.
Ah well, must check the vegetarian (yet still awesome) cornbread and try to frost a cake without licking the spoon.
Sunday, November 06, 2005
How to Lose 8,000 Calories in 4 Hours
Be THE biggest Depeche Mode fan and go to one of the best shows since... well, since the last DM concert. Between six hours up and down a ladder (working on the dining room) and four hours of dancing my ass off at the show - I had to have lost another 10 lbs. At least, I'm feeling like I lost something, but maybe that's just my sanity. Roomie says that there should be no such thing as bad dancing, after all, if you're dancing, you're having a good time. But, if that's the case, why has he yet to stop laughing at my sorry ass. The imitations are enough to make you spit milk through your nose.
Holy Sheeeetttt - I haven't hurt this badly in a very long time. Oh, and just to ensure my butt is completely worn out, I had to have a fight with the ladder and the screen door. Fell off the 8 foot ladder and landed on the only piece of furniture left in the dining room, then ran smack dab into the screen door when I was hauling paint up from the truck. You go, Girl!
Anyway, the show was unbelievable! I cannot believe that Martin Gore can still move like that (I can't believe I can still move like that). They played for almost four straight hours to me and 7,000 of my closest friends. And they played lots and lots of old stuff, which took me back to my high school salad days. This venue, though, was damn near Tennessee so we had to get a hotel last night, but my word, was it worth the money and the trip! Something tells me this might be the last show they do, and that will be sad.
Considering I cannot barely move (bruises and sored muscles), I'm due at a friend's house in an hour to participate in what can only be referred to as "serious intervention". This friend is a horder - a cat horder to be exact. He had to go out of town due to a death in the family and he asked if I would watch his cats. When I asked how many cats he had - and he told me 6-0 - that's sixty, fucking cats - I blew it. Anyway, another cat friend said, "enough is enough" and she wants me to meet her at Cat-man's house to take all the cats to shelters around Atlanta. Cat-Man is going to have a stroke, but if we don't do this, my sane cat friend will call animal control. Ironically, we both were huge proponents of making animal cruelty a felony in Georgia. Now look. However, just the thought of lifting a cat carrier is excruciating. I'm seriously trying to figure out a way to just sit on the couch under my heating pad and watch football or a movie. Something tells me that will not be the case, though.
I also have an appointment to get another tattoo at 3:30. I can't imagine it could hurt anymore than what I'm feeling now, but trying to drive might be problematic. Roomie thinks shoulders, but I'd have an easier time hiding them from the anal fam if I get them on my hip. Of course, blogging about the goddamn thing kills the notion of secrecy. You go, Girl.
It is a beautiful autumn day in the big City and even the pigs across the street are being relatively quiet. One day, I'm just going to pull a gun on them and then maybe they'll move on. Speaking of pigs, three guys got busted in Norcross on Thursday. They had been using their Katrina money to buy and sell coke and weed. According to the police, they were bragging about it saying it was their right to abuse the FEMA money because they were due the hand out. Please, anyone who thinks they are due a fucking handout because their fucking ancestors were brought over and sold as slaves 150 years ago, needs to get a brain and a fucking job. Besides, how stupid can you be to brag to total redneck police officers that your stupid black ass deserves a handout?
Time for another Goody powder and maybe some raw tuna for the protein boost. I should just drink blood as much as my body needs. I'm also going to burn the ladder and the screen door.
Holy Sheeeetttt - I haven't hurt this badly in a very long time. Oh, and just to ensure my butt is completely worn out, I had to have a fight with the ladder and the screen door. Fell off the 8 foot ladder and landed on the only piece of furniture left in the dining room, then ran smack dab into the screen door when I was hauling paint up from the truck. You go, Girl!
Anyway, the show was unbelievable! I cannot believe that Martin Gore can still move like that (I can't believe I can still move like that). They played for almost four straight hours to me and 7,000 of my closest friends. And they played lots and lots of old stuff, which took me back to my high school salad days. This venue, though, was damn near Tennessee so we had to get a hotel last night, but my word, was it worth the money and the trip! Something tells me this might be the last show they do, and that will be sad.
Considering I cannot barely move (bruises and sored muscles), I'm due at a friend's house in an hour to participate in what can only be referred to as "serious intervention". This friend is a horder - a cat horder to be exact. He had to go out of town due to a death in the family and he asked if I would watch his cats. When I asked how many cats he had - and he told me 6-0 - that's sixty, fucking cats - I blew it. Anyway, another cat friend said, "enough is enough" and she wants me to meet her at Cat-man's house to take all the cats to shelters around Atlanta. Cat-Man is going to have a stroke, but if we don't do this, my sane cat friend will call animal control. Ironically, we both were huge proponents of making animal cruelty a felony in Georgia. Now look. However, just the thought of lifting a cat carrier is excruciating. I'm seriously trying to figure out a way to just sit on the couch under my heating pad and watch football or a movie. Something tells me that will not be the case, though.
I also have an appointment to get another tattoo at 3:30. I can't imagine it could hurt anymore than what I'm feeling now, but trying to drive might be problematic. Roomie thinks shoulders, but I'd have an easier time hiding them from the anal fam if I get them on my hip. Of course, blogging about the goddamn thing kills the notion of secrecy. You go, Girl.
It is a beautiful autumn day in the big City and even the pigs across the street are being relatively quiet. One day, I'm just going to pull a gun on them and then maybe they'll move on. Speaking of pigs, three guys got busted in Norcross on Thursday. They had been using their Katrina money to buy and sell coke and weed. According to the police, they were bragging about it saying it was their right to abuse the FEMA money because they were due the hand out. Please, anyone who thinks they are due a fucking handout because their fucking ancestors were brought over and sold as slaves 150 years ago, needs to get a brain and a fucking job. Besides, how stupid can you be to brag to total redneck police officers that your stupid black ass deserves a handout?
Time for another Goody powder and maybe some raw tuna for the protein boost. I should just drink blood as much as my body needs. I'm also going to burn the ladder and the screen door.
Friday, November 04, 2005
New Rules
This one from my pal, Bill Maher:
"New Rule: Since only 15% of Americans said they believe in evolution in a recent poll, America must change its name to the United States of Jesus Christ. And our motto, from E Pluribus Unum to "I'm With Stupid." The good news for the nation: if we get any stupider about science, we'll forget how to cook crystal meth."
I am so sick of hearing about this bullshit, Intellegent Design. Who the hell made that up? In certain areas of the deep south, some folks think even I.D. is too liberal an idea. After all, it's about the Good Laud pointing a finger and voila - in six days you got a universe. That seventh day was apparently designed for cocktails and bar-b-que. Now let me ask this question. If we aren't related in any way to certain primates, why do these two pictures look so disturbing?
Sorry, old joke, but you get my drift.
Oh, and on that Crystal Meth note. Does anyone remember the Brian Nichols debacle that Atlanta had to go through because the Fulton County Sherriff's office is full of chimps ---- oh, you did NOT go there. Anyway, the Tweety-bird who has been credited with saving Atlanta from the serial killer just published a book where she tells everyone that she gave Nichols meth on the night he "kidnapped" her. Now, this makes absolute sense to me. First, beg and plead with the judge at your custody hearing to keep your four-year-old daughter because you, "don't do no mo' drugs", then write a book telling the world how you just happened to have a couple of o-z's worth of meth in your apartment that you so generously gave to a serial killer. According to Ms. Tweety, "I didn't do any with him 'cause if he were gonna shoot me, I didn't want to meet my Maker with a snoot full of ice." Huuuuhhh? So, she was just keeping the meth in her apartment for visitors? I'm lucky if I have a beer and some pretzel sticks to share.
Enough of that. New rule: everyone should have a tattoo. I've got one and I'm thinking of another. Possibly
and 
One on each side of the hip. I was thinking of the lower lumbar, but a friend said that one hurts worse than the one I've got now on my ankle. Not into it for the pain, I tell you. Roomie said on each shoulder, but I think some family members would go bonko. We'll see.
New Rule: If you are a Section 8 loser and you live across the street from me, get used to the idea that I will call you a fucking pig every morning I have to pick trash out of my yard because you're too undereducated to find your own garbage can.
New Rule: If you drive a Delta 88 that is over 20 years old, the exhaust is leaking, the engine sounds like a jet plane and the tires are bald - don't play that bullshit hip hop music over about 1 decible as it probably sounds just as shitty to you in your car as it does me sitting next to you at a stop light. It does NOT make you cool.
More rules to follow as my day becomes increasingly more boring.
"New Rule: Since only 15% of Americans said they believe in evolution in a recent poll, America must change its name to the United States of Jesus Christ. And our motto, from E Pluribus Unum to "I'm With Stupid." The good news for the nation: if we get any stupider about science, we'll forget how to cook crystal meth."
I am so sick of hearing about this bullshit, Intellegent Design. Who the hell made that up? In certain areas of the deep south, some folks think even I.D. is too liberal an idea. After all, it's about the Good Laud pointing a finger and voila - in six days you got a universe. That seventh day was apparently designed for cocktails and bar-b-que. Now let me ask this question. If we aren't related in any way to certain primates, why do these two pictures look so disturbing?
Sorry, old joke, but you get my drift.
Oh, and on that Crystal Meth note. Does anyone remember the Brian Nichols debacle that Atlanta had to go through because the Fulton County Sherriff's office is full of chimps ---- oh, you did NOT go there. Anyway, the Tweety-bird who has been credited with saving Atlanta from the serial killer just published a book where she tells everyone that she gave Nichols meth on the night he "kidnapped" her. Now, this makes absolute sense to me. First, beg and plead with the judge at your custody hearing to keep your four-year-old daughter because you, "don't do no mo' drugs", then write a book telling the world how you just happened to have a couple of o-z's worth of meth in your apartment that you so generously gave to a serial killer. According to Ms. Tweety, "I didn't do any with him 'cause if he were gonna shoot me, I didn't want to meet my Maker with a snoot full of ice." Huuuuhhh? So, she was just keeping the meth in her apartment for visitors? I'm lucky if I have a beer and some pretzel sticks to share.
Enough of that. New rule: everyone should have a tattoo. I've got one and I'm thinking of another. Possibly
and One on each side of the hip. I was thinking of the lower lumbar, but a friend said that one hurts worse than the one I've got now on my ankle. Not into it for the pain, I tell you. Roomie said on each shoulder, but I think some family members would go bonko. We'll see.
New Rule: If you are a Section 8 loser and you live across the street from me, get used to the idea that I will call you a fucking pig every morning I have to pick trash out of my yard because you're too undereducated to find your own garbage can.
New Rule: If you drive a Delta 88 that is over 20 years old, the exhaust is leaking, the engine sounds like a jet plane and the tires are bald - don't play that bullshit hip hop music over about 1 decible as it probably sounds just as shitty to you in your car as it does me sitting next to you at a stop light. It does NOT make you cool.
More rules to follow as my day becomes increasingly more boring.
Thursday, November 03, 2005
And Off Go the Gloves
Looks like I might lose Roomie. The past twenty-four hours have proved to be somewhat insightful - at least for me. Perhaps that's what perpetuated the over abundance of abusive terminology that I possess. Hmmm, I think it's when I called him redneck, trailer-trash - then qualified it with... oh yeah, "pig shit" that I could have crossed the line.
Of course, I immediately apologized (pussy that I am) and Roomie says, "I DON'T except your apology". Well, shit! Where do you go from there? I'm glad we don't have a gun in the house 'cause someone be missing somethin' after this evening.
Just another reason to move on.
Dining room is going better. The wood trim turns out to be heart of pine. If I had the time and where fore all, I'd strip and stain it, but that is suicide right now. Time is running out on my dining room completion schedule, especially if I'm leaving for Arizona early, but this little be-atch will get done. Too bad sanding wood makes such a mess - it's good therapy and exercise.
Of course, I immediately apologized (pussy that I am) and Roomie says, "I DON'T except your apology". Well, shit! Where do you go from there? I'm glad we don't have a gun in the house 'cause someone be missing somethin' after this evening.
Just another reason to move on.
Dining room is going better. The wood trim turns out to be heart of pine. If I had the time and where fore all, I'd strip and stain it, but that is suicide right now. Time is running out on my dining room completion schedule, especially if I'm leaving for Arizona early, but this little be-atch will get done. Too bad sanding wood makes such a mess - it's good therapy and exercise.
What a Dumbass
CNN has posted a bunch of emails that dipshit Michael Brown wrote while people and animals were dying by the hundreds in New Orleans and Mississippi. What a total dumbass. Makes you really want to be careful what you put in emails at work - or other wise.
I tell you one thing, though. Marty Bahamonde sold Brown down the river. Good for him.
Check out the crap for yourself...
http://i.a.cnn.net/cnn/2005/images/11/03/brown.emails.pdf
or if that link doesn't work, try just www.cnn.com
I tell you one thing, though. Marty Bahamonde sold Brown down the river. Good for him.
Check out the crap for yourself...
http://i.a.cnn.net/cnn/2005/images/11/03/brown.emails.pdf
or if that link doesn't work, try just www.cnn.com
Just a Little Bit Chapped
So I really didn't think I was going to have an opportunity to blow a 50-amp fuse this morning, but as usual, I was wrong.
While I was away at the Joe Show, Roomie decided to invite his family to our house for Thanksgiving. Keep in mind, I detest the holiday known as Thanksgiving. Forget for one moment that I am a vegetarian - Thanksgiving is a holiday that represents the invasion of white men into a country that did not belong to them and the subsequent demise of the Native American people. Since part of my heritage is Native American, I simply cannot stomach a holiday that celebrates this event. Every fucking year, Roomie goes to Virginia and I get to spend QMT (quality me time)- alone.
Well, I guess I must actually have a soft spot in my heart because it occurred to me that Roomie has every right to have his family down. After all, he pays rent. I even decided that I would cook a Thanksgiving dinner - hypocrite vegetarian that I am. However, my best friend, Gail, invited me out to Scottsdale to hang out with her. Since I haven't been on a fucking vacation all year and since I haven't seen Gail in over five years, I made a reservation to leave Thursday night. This would give me three days - including the dreaded Thursday - to spend with Roomie's family.
So, as I'm coming down the stairs this morning, Roomie calls and says that his sister has sent him some type of ugly email about how rude it is that I'm leaving and that I have issues with social class or some other total bullshit. Apparently, she doesn't seem to appreciate the sacrifices I'm making so...
Fuck her.
Fuck the entire goddamn week.
I'm now leaving on Tuesday night.
While I was away at the Joe Show, Roomie decided to invite his family to our house for Thanksgiving. Keep in mind, I detest the holiday known as Thanksgiving. Forget for one moment that I am a vegetarian - Thanksgiving is a holiday that represents the invasion of white men into a country that did not belong to them and the subsequent demise of the Native American people. Since part of my heritage is Native American, I simply cannot stomach a holiday that celebrates this event. Every fucking year, Roomie goes to Virginia and I get to spend QMT (quality me time)- alone.
Well, I guess I must actually have a soft spot in my heart because it occurred to me that Roomie has every right to have his family down. After all, he pays rent. I even decided that I would cook a Thanksgiving dinner - hypocrite vegetarian that I am. However, my best friend, Gail, invited me out to Scottsdale to hang out with her. Since I haven't been on a fucking vacation all year and since I haven't seen Gail in over five years, I made a reservation to leave Thursday night. This would give me three days - including the dreaded Thursday - to spend with Roomie's family.
So, as I'm coming down the stairs this morning, Roomie calls and says that his sister has sent him some type of ugly email about how rude it is that I'm leaving and that I have issues with social class or some other total bullshit. Apparently, she doesn't seem to appreciate the sacrifices I'm making so...
Fuck her.
Fuck the entire goddamn week.
I'm now leaving on Tuesday night.
Wednesday, November 02, 2005
What to Do?
This little link to today's CNN posting:
http://www.cnn.com/2005/POLITICS/11/02/feedback.president/index.html
Scary thing when you think that even Hillbillies are against Bush. What does that say about those of us who N-E-V-E-R voted for Bush? Now people are saying, "Pull out of Iraq". What kind of problems will we face if we just leave Iraq in the shamble that it is now? Oh, and if we pull troops out of Iraq, what do we do then - most likely, move them next door to Iran. What a fucking mess.
Had a tooth re-worked this morning and the goddamn novocaine STILL hasn't worn off. This is crap. Why can't novacaine for the brain be this good?
Going to a hoitie-toite event to benefit the Georgia Aquarium tomorrow night. Should be fun fucking with those rightous Republicans. Hopefully, I won't get thrown out, but if I do, look for me at ajc.com.
I'm really feeling embittered today - no, not like normally embittered, but in a glorifying-rage-type embittered. New boss and me kinda got into it yesterday because I'm so bloody bored. I actually feel sorry for him, though, because he's old-tradition Virgina boy who does things at a different pace than me. Ah well, as my buddy said, "If it's been six months and he hasn't see the "real" you yet - time for some enlightenment." Good call.
http://www.cnn.com/2005/POLITICS/11/02/feedback.president/index.html
Scary thing when you think that even Hillbillies are against Bush. What does that say about those of us who N-E-V-E-R voted for Bush? Now people are saying, "Pull out of Iraq". What kind of problems will we face if we just leave Iraq in the shamble that it is now? Oh, and if we pull troops out of Iraq, what do we do then - most likely, move them next door to Iran. What a fucking mess.
Had a tooth re-worked this morning and the goddamn novocaine STILL hasn't worn off. This is crap. Why can't novacaine for the brain be this good?
Going to a hoitie-toite event to benefit the Georgia Aquarium tomorrow night. Should be fun fucking with those rightous Republicans. Hopefully, I won't get thrown out, but if I do, look for me at ajc.com.
I'm really feeling embittered today - no, not like normally embittered, but in a glorifying-rage-type embittered. New boss and me kinda got into it yesterday because I'm so bloody bored. I actually feel sorry for him, though, because he's old-tradition Virgina boy who does things at a different pace than me. Ah well, as my buddy said, "If it's been six months and he hasn't see the "real" you yet - time for some enlightenment." Good call.
Monday, October 31, 2005
Daylight Savings Time
Me thinks...
Asshole idea.
Anyone concur?
I'm going to Arizona on Thanksgiving Day. After I cook the "Feast of a Lifetime" - I'm actually gonna take MARTA to the airport at 1600 and hit the runway close to that. Should get me to the desert around 1600. Good going over, bad coming back. If you don't know, Arizona does not practice the pagen/neo-con ideas that some of us must heed.
The freaks are out en-masse tonight - go figure. I guess the reason nobody came to my door is because there is a pad-lock on the gate with a sign that says, "Trick or Treat - Ring my door and get a .22 in your seat." Hmmmm, maybe a little harsh, but you should hear the shIIIIite outside my window right now.
Asshole idea.
Anyone concur?
I'm going to Arizona on Thanksgiving Day. After I cook the "Feast of a Lifetime" - I'm actually gonna take MARTA to the airport at 1600 and hit the runway close to that. Should get me to the desert around 1600. Good going over, bad coming back. If you don't know, Arizona does not practice the pagen/neo-con ideas that some of us must heed.
The freaks are out en-masse tonight - go figure. I guess the reason nobody came to my door is because there is a pad-lock on the gate with a sign that says, "Trick or Treat - Ring my door and get a .22 in your seat." Hmmmm, maybe a little harsh, but you should hear the shIIIIite outside my window right now.
Sunday, October 30, 2005
Surely, a Wily God
I found a tail. A squirrel tail that is - and there was no squirrel attached to it. Linus has been somewhat evasive. Me thinks ----- yup, Circle of Life.
Speaking of life, my cousin, my friend, lost his Mum to cancer on Thursday. I cannot be too sympathtic because I will lose it. Then what good would I be? Since I could have lost my Mum to cancer this year, it's like a good emotional paradox: hard not to be grateful for what you have and, at the same time, feel sorrowful for a friend who is feeling lost.
Must be the Italian in me, but I've decided I would try to cheer him up with... FOOD! Comfort food, that is. Considering he was raised in the South, I figured Mac n' Cheese with country ham, black-eyed pea salad and bread pudding with bourbon sauce. There are enough calories, fat, and pure good sugar in this little menu, it is bordeline suicide, but what the hey?
I found a construction manager job in England on Friday. Not excited at all about England (I need the sun on occasion and the cost of living means I'll be living in a matchbox), but I applied anyway. Scary to think leaving the warm nest of Georgia Tech, but American life is really getting bad when your life-long Republican father says he's voting Democrat in the next election. To quote my pal, JS, "Whaaaaa?". I had been somewhat apprehensive about going to Pop's yesterday because I didn't want to listen to his Pro-George garbage. But, I wasn't in the house 10 minutes when he made that declaration. Funny, but the rest of the afternoon, we just hung out and talked politics, religion and all the other taboo stuff that we've disagreed on for the past ???? years. Like I said, definately time to move on.
Oh yeah, and talk about a backfire - I rented a car to go to Augusta because the little Honda needs a tune-up and, until I get one, I'm suffering terrible gas mileage. So I request this itty-bitty Geo thing that gets, like - 45 mpg. I get to the rental place Friday night and the poor schmoo behind the counter gleefully tells me that he's giving me a free DOUBLE upgrade. I told him I didn't want a big car (hence ruining my idea of good gas mileage). Well, tough. Hurricane Wilma has sent most of Hertz's fleet to S. Florida and I get what I get - a MONSTER auto-mo-beel. This thing can carry five hunters, the dead eight-point buck they shot, AND the keg. Needless to say, I'm not familiar with driving this size car so getting into Pop's circular driveway was interesting to say the least.
Dining room reno is way behind schedule. As the contractor, the labourer, the scheduler, AND the O-W-N-E-R of this particular project, I am obviously upset on various different levels. I really should have seen this mess coming. Timing really sucks because I really wanted to go to Tallulah Gorge and white water raft next weekend (the Corps of Engineers opens the dam the first week of April and November and the waterfall alone is enough to take your breathe away). Ah well, my boys are playing Saturday night so the Gorge will have to wait.
And I still can't figure out why my photos don't post. IT stuff is not - I say - not my forte. However, cooking comfort food is - so back to it.
Speaking of life, my cousin, my friend, lost his Mum to cancer on Thursday. I cannot be too sympathtic because I will lose it. Then what good would I be? Since I could have lost my Mum to cancer this year, it's like a good emotional paradox: hard not to be grateful for what you have and, at the same time, feel sorrowful for a friend who is feeling lost.
Must be the Italian in me, but I've decided I would try to cheer him up with... FOOD! Comfort food, that is. Considering he was raised in the South, I figured Mac n' Cheese with country ham, black-eyed pea salad and bread pudding with bourbon sauce. There are enough calories, fat, and pure good sugar in this little menu, it is bordeline suicide, but what the hey?
I found a construction manager job in England on Friday. Not excited at all about England (I need the sun on occasion and the cost of living means I'll be living in a matchbox), but I applied anyway. Scary to think leaving the warm nest of Georgia Tech, but American life is really getting bad when your life-long Republican father says he's voting Democrat in the next election. To quote my pal, JS, "Whaaaaa?". I had been somewhat apprehensive about going to Pop's yesterday because I didn't want to listen to his Pro-George garbage. But, I wasn't in the house 10 minutes when he made that declaration. Funny, but the rest of the afternoon, we just hung out and talked politics, religion and all the other taboo stuff that we've disagreed on for the past ???? years. Like I said, definately time to move on.
Oh yeah, and talk about a backfire - I rented a car to go to Augusta because the little Honda needs a tune-up and, until I get one, I'm suffering terrible gas mileage. So I request this itty-bitty Geo thing that gets, like - 45 mpg. I get to the rental place Friday night and the poor schmoo behind the counter gleefully tells me that he's giving me a free DOUBLE upgrade. I told him I didn't want a big car (hence ruining my idea of good gas mileage). Well, tough. Hurricane Wilma has sent most of Hertz's fleet to S. Florida and I get what I get - a MONSTER auto-mo-beel. This thing can carry five hunters, the dead eight-point buck they shot, AND the keg. Needless to say, I'm not familiar with driving this size car so getting into Pop's circular driveway was interesting to say the least.
Dining room reno is way behind schedule. As the contractor, the labourer, the scheduler, AND the O-W-N-E-R of this particular project, I am obviously upset on various different levels. I really should have seen this mess coming. Timing really sucks because I really wanted to go to Tallulah Gorge and white water raft next weekend (the Corps of Engineers opens the dam the first week of April and November and the waterfall alone is enough to take your breathe away). Ah well, my boys are playing Saturday night so the Gorge will have to wait.
And I still can't figure out why my photos don't post. IT stuff is not - I say - not my forte. However, cooking comfort food is - so back to it.
Friday, October 28, 2005
Naughty Boys
Scooter got popped. Damn - perjury and obstruction of justice among other charges. Bad, bad Scooter. Did you actually think you could get away with lying to a Grand Jury? Probably. Now, if they could just pop Rove. I'd say between this little tussle and then the Harriet Miers mess, George is having a bad day.
Now, here's another little monster - but I love this guy. If I had a kid, he would most likely be a little Calvin... (do right mouse, then click "view image" to see the whole thing- until I learn how to save crap to the Internet).
Now, here's another little monster - but I love this guy. If I had a kid, he would most likely be a little Calvin... (do right mouse, then click "view image" to see the whole thing- until I learn how to save crap to the Internet).
Thursday, October 27, 2005
No, I Don't Need these Brain Cells
Oh My! Did I underestimate this dining room reno job or what? I have totally forgotten the physical labour of stripping wood- especially wood with 100-year old paint on everything. Granted, it will look so much better than where I didn't strip the wood, but damn.
Lest we forget the fumes from the paint stripper.
Cheap buzz.
I have to step outside every twenty minutes or so or I'll pass out. Oh yeah, and I didn't notice that this room has four, count 'em f-o-u-r doors and two huge windows when I was deliriously determining the schedule for completion. We're talkin' THREE coats of stripper for each section. Of course, then I get to inhale the strip wash. I think the cats are pretty fucked up on this stuff. I tried to keep them out of the dining room, but when ladders are around, watch out.
Lest we forget the fumes from the paint stripper.
Cheap buzz.
I have to step outside every twenty minutes or so or I'll pass out. Oh yeah, and I didn't notice that this room has four, count 'em f-o-u-r doors and two huge windows when I was deliriously determining the schedule for completion. We're talkin' THREE coats of stripper for each section. Of course, then I get to inhale the strip wash. I think the cats are pretty fucked up on this stuff. I tried to keep them out of the dining room, but when ladders are around, watch out.
Bill Cosby, Again
OK, now I've heard it all... man, is this going to make me sound O-L-D.
I heard a song on VH-1 this weekend by Kanye West (yes, that bratty-ass Rapper who some in Atlanta call "home boy".) He has a song out called, "Golddigger". Well, because VH-1 has to delete the word he uses to rhyme with the last two syllables of "Golddigger", my stupid, foggy, dipshit brain didn't figure out the true lyrics until Saturday (thanks to Roomie for the insight). Get this:
Jamie Foxx]
She take my money well I'm in need
Yeah she's a triflin friend indeed
Oh she's a gold digger way over town
That digs on me
[Chorus:]
(She take me money)
Now I aint sayin she a gold digger (Well I'm in Need)
But she aint messin wit no broke niggaz(She take me money)
Now I aint sayin she a gold digger (When I'm in Need)
but she aint messin wit no broke niggaz(i gotta leave)
get down girl go head get down (I gotta leave)
get down girl go head get down (I gotta leave)
get down girl go head get down (I gotta leave)
get down girl go head
[Verse 1:]
Cutie the bomb
Met her at a beauty salon
With a baby louis vuitton
Under her underarm
She said I can tell you rock
I can tell by ya charm
Far as girls you got a flock
I can tell by ya charm and ya arm
but I'm lookin for the one
have you seen her
My psychic told me she'll have a ass like Serena
Trina, Jennifer Lopez, four kids
An I gotta take all they bad ass to show-biz
Ok get ya kids but then they got their friends
I Pulled up in the Benz, they all got up in
We all went to din and then I had to pay
If you fuckin with this girl then you betta be paid
You know why
It take too much to touch her
From what I heard she got a baby by Busta
My best friend say she use to fuck wit Usher
I dont care what none of ya'll say I still love her
[Chorus:]
(She take me money)
Now I aint sayin she a gold digger (Well I'm in Need)
But she aint messin wit no broke niggaz(She take me money)
Now I aint sayin she a gold digger (When I'm in Need)
but she aint messin wit no broke niggaz(i gotta leave)
get down girl go head get down (I gotta leave)
get down girl go head get down (I gotta leave)
get down girl go head get down (I gotta leave)
get down girl go head
[Verse 2:]
18 years, 18 years
She got one of yo kids got you for 18 years
I know somebody payin child support for one of his kids
His baby momma's car and crib is bigger than his
You will see him on TV Any Given Sunday
Win the Superbowl and drive off in a Hyundai
She was spose to buy ya shorty TYCO with ya money
She went to the doctor got lipo with ya money
She walkin around lookin like Michael with ya money
Should of got that insured, GEICO for ya moneeey( your money)
If you aint no punk holla We Want Prenup
WE WANT PRENUP!, Yeaah
It's something that you need to have
Cause when she leave yo ass she gone leave with half
18 years, 18 years
And on the 18th birthday he found out it wasn't his
[Chorus:]
(She take me money)
Now I aint sayin she a gold digger (Well I'm in Need)
But she aint messin wit no broke niggaz(She take me money)
Now I aint sayin she a gold digger (When I'm in Need)
but she aint messin wit no broke niggaz(i gotta leave)
get down girl go head get down (I gotta leave)
get down girl go head get down (I gotta leave)
get down girl go head get down (I gotta leave)
get down girl go head
[Verse 3:]
Now I aint sayin you a gold digger you got needs
You dont want a dude to smoke but he can't buy weed
You go out to eat and he cant pay yall cant leave
There's dishes in the back, he gotta roll up his sleeves
But while yall washin watch him
He gone make it into a Benz out of that Datsun
He got that ambition baby look in his eyes
This week he moppin floorz next week it's the friers
So, stick by his side
I know his dude's ballin but yea thats nice
And they gone keep callin and tryin
But you stay right girl
But when you get on he leave yo ass for a white girl
Get down girl go head get down
Get down girl go head get down
get down girl go head get down
[she take my money]
Let me here that back
Holy Shit! Forget for a moment that the lyrics are somewhat misogynstic, but I was always taught never to use the "N" word because it was offensive to black folks. So how is it black folks can not only use the word, but they can glorify it in a Number One song? Mum says they use it because they can and whitey can't. What kind of trash is that. Remember this quote from Bill Cosby?
Cosby says, "People who are worried about what white people hear Bill Cosby saying have their heads in the sand," he said. "Do you really think that white people — while riding on the bus, listening to our people get out of school, hearing them use profanity, watching how they address each other with 'nigger' — don't know? You think that these white people don't go back and tell their friends about the horrors of having to ride the bus?"
And if that weren't bad enough (yup, sounding really old now) check out this little ditty by the Black Eyed Peas...
BEPs, "What you gon’ do with all that junk?
All that junk inside your trunk?
I’ma get, get, get, get, you drunk,
Get you love drunk off my hump.
My hump, my hump, my hump, my hump, my hump,
My hump, my hump, my hump, my lovely little lumps. (Check it out)
I drive these scrubbers crazy,
I do it on the daily,
They treat me really nicely,
They buy me all these ice-ys.
Dolce & Gabbana,
Fendi and then Donna
Karen, they be sharin’
All their money got me wearin’
Fly gearrr but I ain’t askin,
They say they love my ass ‘n,
Se7en Jeans, True Religion,
I say no, but they keep givin’
So I keep on takin’
And no I ain’t fakin’
We can keep on datin’
I keep on demonstrating.
My love, my love, my love, my love
You love my lady lumps,
My hump, my hump, my hump,
My humps they got u,
She’s got me spending.
(Oh) Spendin’ all your money on me and spending time on me.
She’s got me spendin’.
(Oh) Spendin’ all your money on me, on me, on me
What you gon’ do with all that junk?
All that junk inside that trunk?
I’ma get, get, get, get, you drunk,
Get you love drunk off my hump.
What u gon’ do with all that ass?
All that ass inside them jeans?
I’m a make, make, make, make you scream
Make u scream, make you scream.
Cos of my hump, my hump, my hump, my hump.
My hump, my hump, my hump, my lovely lady lumps. (Check it out)
I met a girl down at the disco.
She said hey, hey, hey yea let’s go.
I could be your baby, you can be my honey
Lets spend time not money.
I mix your milk wit my cocoa puff,
Milky, milky cocoa,
Mix your milk with my cocoa puff, milky, milky riiiiiiight.
They say I’m really sexy,
The boys they wanna sex me.
They always standing next to me,
Always dancing next to me,
Tryin’ a feel my hump, hump.
Lookin’ at my lump, lump.
U can look but you can’t touch it,
If u touch it I’ma start some drama,
You don’t want no drama,
No, no drama, no, no, no, no drama
So don’t pull on my hand boy,
You ain’t my man, boy,
I’m just tryn’a dance boy,
And move my hump.
My hump, my hump, my hump, my hump,
My hump, my hump, my hump, my hump, my hump, my hump.
My lovely lady lumps x3
In the back and in the front.
My lovin’ got u,
She’s got me spendin’.
(Oh) Spendin’ all your money on me and spending time on me.
She’s got me spendin’.
(Oh) Spendin’ all your money on me, on me, on me.
What you gon’ do with all that junk?
All that junk inside that trunk?
I’ma get, get, get, get you drunk,
Get you love drunk off my hump.
What you gon’ do with all that ass?
All that ass inside them jeans?
I’ma make, make, make, make you scream
Make you scream, make you scream.
What you gon do with all that junk?
All that junk inside that trunk?
I’ma get, get, get, get you drunk,
Get you love drunk off this hump.
What you gon’ do wit all that breast?
All that breast inside that shirt?
I’ma make, make, make, make you work
Make you work, work, make you work.
She’s got me spendin’.
Spendin all your money on me and spendin’ time on me
She’s got me spendin’.
Spendin’ all your money on me, on me, on me.
You must be kidding me. Are 12-year old girls listening to this? I swear, I do not know how I could raise a kid around this garbage.
Rant over.
I heard a song on VH-1 this weekend by Kanye West (yes, that bratty-ass Rapper who some in Atlanta call "home boy".) He has a song out called, "Golddigger". Well, because VH-1 has to delete the word he uses to rhyme with the last two syllables of "Golddigger", my stupid, foggy, dipshit brain didn't figure out the true lyrics until Saturday (thanks to Roomie for the insight). Get this:
Jamie Foxx]
She take my money well I'm in need
Yeah she's a triflin friend indeed
Oh she's a gold digger way over town
That digs on me
[Chorus:]
(She take me money)
Now I aint sayin she a gold digger (Well I'm in Need)
But she aint messin wit no broke niggaz(She take me money)
Now I aint sayin she a gold digger (When I'm in Need)
but she aint messin wit no broke niggaz(i gotta leave)
get down girl go head get down (I gotta leave)
get down girl go head get down (I gotta leave)
get down girl go head get down (I gotta leave)
get down girl go head
[Verse 1:]
Cutie the bomb
Met her at a beauty salon
With a baby louis vuitton
Under her underarm
She said I can tell you rock
I can tell by ya charm
Far as girls you got a flock
I can tell by ya charm and ya arm
but I'm lookin for the one
have you seen her
My psychic told me she'll have a ass like Serena
Trina, Jennifer Lopez, four kids
An I gotta take all they bad ass to show-biz
Ok get ya kids but then they got their friends
I Pulled up in the Benz, they all got up in
We all went to din and then I had to pay
If you fuckin with this girl then you betta be paid
You know why
It take too much to touch her
From what I heard she got a baby by Busta
My best friend say she use to fuck wit Usher
I dont care what none of ya'll say I still love her
[Chorus:]
(She take me money)
Now I aint sayin she a gold digger (Well I'm in Need)
But she aint messin wit no broke niggaz(She take me money)
Now I aint sayin she a gold digger (When I'm in Need)
but she aint messin wit no broke niggaz(i gotta leave)
get down girl go head get down (I gotta leave)
get down girl go head get down (I gotta leave)
get down girl go head get down (I gotta leave)
get down girl go head
[Verse 2:]
18 years, 18 years
She got one of yo kids got you for 18 years
I know somebody payin child support for one of his kids
His baby momma's car and crib is bigger than his
You will see him on TV Any Given Sunday
Win the Superbowl and drive off in a Hyundai
She was spose to buy ya shorty TYCO with ya money
She went to the doctor got lipo with ya money
She walkin around lookin like Michael with ya money
Should of got that insured, GEICO for ya moneeey( your money)
If you aint no punk holla We Want Prenup
WE WANT PRENUP!, Yeaah
It's something that you need to have
Cause when she leave yo ass she gone leave with half
18 years, 18 years
And on the 18th birthday he found out it wasn't his
[Chorus:]
(She take me money)
Now I aint sayin she a gold digger (Well I'm in Need)
But she aint messin wit no broke niggaz(She take me money)
Now I aint sayin she a gold digger (When I'm in Need)
but she aint messin wit no broke niggaz(i gotta leave)
get down girl go head get down (I gotta leave)
get down girl go head get down (I gotta leave)
get down girl go head get down (I gotta leave)
get down girl go head
[Verse 3:]
Now I aint sayin you a gold digger you got needs
You dont want a dude to smoke but he can't buy weed
You go out to eat and he cant pay yall cant leave
There's dishes in the back, he gotta roll up his sleeves
But while yall washin watch him
He gone make it into a Benz out of that Datsun
He got that ambition baby look in his eyes
This week he moppin floorz next week it's the friers
So, stick by his side
I know his dude's ballin but yea thats nice
And they gone keep callin and tryin
But you stay right girl
But when you get on he leave yo ass for a white girl
Get down girl go head get down
Get down girl go head get down
get down girl go head get down
[she take my money]
Let me here that back
Holy Shit! Forget for a moment that the lyrics are somewhat misogynstic, but I was always taught never to use the "N" word because it was offensive to black folks. So how is it black folks can not only use the word, but they can glorify it in a Number One song? Mum says they use it because they can and whitey can't. What kind of trash is that. Remember this quote from Bill Cosby?
Cosby says, "People who are worried about what white people hear Bill Cosby saying have their heads in the sand," he said. "Do you really think that white people — while riding on the bus, listening to our people get out of school, hearing them use profanity, watching how they address each other with 'nigger' — don't know? You think that these white people don't go back and tell their friends about the horrors of having to ride the bus?"
And if that weren't bad enough (yup, sounding really old now) check out this little ditty by the Black Eyed Peas...
BEPs, "What you gon’ do with all that junk?
All that junk inside your trunk?
I’ma get, get, get, get, you drunk,
Get you love drunk off my hump.
My hump, my hump, my hump, my hump, my hump,
My hump, my hump, my hump, my lovely little lumps. (Check it out)
I drive these scrubbers crazy,
I do it on the daily,
They treat me really nicely,
They buy me all these ice-ys.
Dolce & Gabbana,
Fendi and then Donna
Karen, they be sharin’
All their money got me wearin’
Fly gearrr but I ain’t askin,
They say they love my ass ‘n,
Se7en Jeans, True Religion,
I say no, but they keep givin’
So I keep on takin’
And no I ain’t fakin’
We can keep on datin’
I keep on demonstrating.
My love, my love, my love, my love
You love my lady lumps,
My hump, my hump, my hump,
My humps they got u,
She’s got me spending.
(Oh) Spendin’ all your money on me and spending time on me.
She’s got me spendin’.
(Oh) Spendin’ all your money on me, on me, on me
What you gon’ do with all that junk?
All that junk inside that trunk?
I’ma get, get, get, get, you drunk,
Get you love drunk off my hump.
What u gon’ do with all that ass?
All that ass inside them jeans?
I’m a make, make, make, make you scream
Make u scream, make you scream.
Cos of my hump, my hump, my hump, my hump.
My hump, my hump, my hump, my lovely lady lumps. (Check it out)
I met a girl down at the disco.
She said hey, hey, hey yea let’s go.
I could be your baby, you can be my honey
Lets spend time not money.
I mix your milk wit my cocoa puff,
Milky, milky cocoa,
Mix your milk with my cocoa puff, milky, milky riiiiiiight.
They say I’m really sexy,
The boys they wanna sex me.
They always standing next to me,
Always dancing next to me,
Tryin’ a feel my hump, hump.
Lookin’ at my lump, lump.
U can look but you can’t touch it,
If u touch it I’ma start some drama,
You don’t want no drama,
No, no drama, no, no, no, no drama
So don’t pull on my hand boy,
You ain’t my man, boy,
I’m just tryn’a dance boy,
And move my hump.
My hump, my hump, my hump, my hump,
My hump, my hump, my hump, my hump, my hump, my hump.
My lovely lady lumps x3
In the back and in the front.
My lovin’ got u,
She’s got me spendin’.
(Oh) Spendin’ all your money on me and spending time on me.
She’s got me spendin’.
(Oh) Spendin’ all your money on me, on me, on me.
What you gon’ do with all that junk?
All that junk inside that trunk?
I’ma get, get, get, get you drunk,
Get you love drunk off my hump.
What you gon’ do with all that ass?
All that ass inside them jeans?
I’ma make, make, make, make you scream
Make you scream, make you scream.
What you gon do with all that junk?
All that junk inside that trunk?
I’ma get, get, get, get you drunk,
Get you love drunk off this hump.
What you gon’ do wit all that breast?
All that breast inside that shirt?
I’ma make, make, make, make you work
Make you work, work, make you work.
She’s got me spendin’.
Spendin all your money on me and spendin’ time on me
She’s got me spendin’.
Spendin’ all your money on me, on me, on me.
You must be kidding me. Are 12-year old girls listening to this? I swear, I do not know how I could raise a kid around this garbage.
Rant over.
Tuesday, October 25, 2005
Squirrels, Scooter, and a Hip Hop Anthem
Well, my squirrels were released on Sunday. Cute little buggers, but I haven't seen them since. Sadly, I read yesterday that squirrels remember where they were born and return there to have their own litters. Had I fucking known that I would have taken them back to Tech - but nnooooo, I had to release them six miles away and the only thing between the house and Tech is the concrete jungle known as the City of Atlanta. Good luck, guys! I guess tree-hopping through downtown is probably safer than taking MARTA anyway.
On another subject, no grown man should be called, "Scooter". When I hear that word, I think of a cat that just came out of the cat box and has a turd stuck to its fur. Since cats aren't real good with the reach-around, they turn into a "Scooter" on the carpet. I truly hope Scooter, Rove, and that seriously evil dick Cheney all spend a couple of long months as the girlfriends to some convict named Bubba Riley in the Federal Pen. Actually, I wish Valerie Plame would illicit some of her badass CIA shit on all of 'em.
And if this don't beat 'em all - Atlanta announced its new "anthem" at last night's Falcon's game. Check it out http://alt.cimedia.com/ajc/audio/atlantaanthem.mp3, but please, please do not give me any shit as I had nothing - nothing to do with this barf tune. I cannot believe the State Song of Georgia is the lovely "Georgia on My Mind" by Ray Charles, but Atlanta has to come up with this little ditty. Some folks are calling it "too ethnic". What a euphamism that is.
Well, thanks to Ludo for stopping by last night!! We had a great time at dinner - and this time it didn't cost $175! I also appreciate you showing me your designs - some of them are really phenomenial. I might steal one to use as the wallpaper in the dining room. Speaking of dining rooms - time to get back to it. Ciao
On another subject, no grown man should be called, "Scooter". When I hear that word, I think of a cat that just came out of the cat box and has a turd stuck to its fur. Since cats aren't real good with the reach-around, they turn into a "Scooter" on the carpet. I truly hope Scooter, Rove, and that seriously evil dick Cheney all spend a couple of long months as the girlfriends to some convict named Bubba Riley in the Federal Pen. Actually, I wish Valerie Plame would illicit some of her badass CIA shit on all of 'em.
And if this don't beat 'em all - Atlanta announced its new "anthem" at last night's Falcon's game. Check it out http://alt.cimedia.com/ajc/audio/atlantaanthem.mp3, but please, please do not give me any shit as I had nothing - nothing to do with this barf tune. I cannot believe the State Song of Georgia is the lovely "Georgia on My Mind" by Ray Charles, but Atlanta has to come up with this little ditty. Some folks are calling it "too ethnic". What a euphamism that is.
Well, thanks to Ludo for stopping by last night!! We had a great time at dinner - and this time it didn't cost $175! I also appreciate you showing me your designs - some of them are really phenomenial. I might steal one to use as the wallpaper in the dining room. Speaking of dining rooms - time to get back to it. Ciao
Monday, October 24, 2005
Bird Flu
A little ditty from my pal at Yorkshire Soul...
A health spokesman said yesterday, "'E's not pinin'! 'E's passed on! This parrot is no more! He has ceased to be! 'E's expired and gone to meet 'is maker! 'E's a stiff! Bereft of life, 'e rests in peace! If you hadn't nailed 'im to the perch 'e'd be pushing up the daisies! 'Is metabolic processes are now 'istory! 'E's off the twig! 'E's kicked the bucket, 'e's shuffled off 'is mortal coil, run down the curtain and joined the bleedin' choir invisibile!! THIS IS AN EX-PARROT!!
Probably not that funny to some paranoid folks.
A health spokesman said yesterday, "'E's not pinin'! 'E's passed on! This parrot is no more! He has ceased to be! 'E's expired and gone to meet 'is maker! 'E's a stiff! Bereft of life, 'e rests in peace! If you hadn't nailed 'im to the perch 'e'd be pushing up the daisies! 'Is metabolic processes are now 'istory! 'E's off the twig! 'E's kicked the bucket, 'e's shuffled off 'is mortal coil, run down the curtain and joined the bleedin' choir invisibile!! THIS IS AN EX-PARROT!!
Probably not that funny to some paranoid folks.
Thursday, October 20, 2005
My Boys...
Jon Stewart is a genius. He always has the kindest things to say about MY favourite president, Dip Shit. His diatribe the other night was brilliant as he pondered the question, "If Iran has nuclear weapons (aka weapons of mass destruction), why aren't we going there to oust their leader? What about China?". The answer... we don't have any armed forces left. Great, just great. So proud to carry that goddamn blue passport.
Then there's...
This unsavory character is Lewis Black. He too spares no kind words for George so once again, he's a hero in my book.
Then there's
Carlos Mencia, who will make you cry he's so good. His jokes are completely, across the board, offensive to every nationality, race, or religion. NOBODY is exempt. Check out some of his rants at http://www.comedycentral.com/comedians/browse/m/carlos_mencia.jhtml.
And lastly - my boys from 20 - yup, twenty years ago...
New album and most likely, their last tour, which is coming here on November 5th (thank God that's a Saturday). When I called Baby Bro to ask him what the Gwinnett Center was like, he said not to worry about getting tickets as everyone who would want to see Depeche Mode is probably too old to be going to a concert. Thanks, ButtMunch.
Anyway, had a good quiet weekend with my Mum in town. We went to dinner both Saturday and Sunday night and she left this morning. I wish I could have crawled into her suitcase. These next four weeks are going to be torture as I try in vain to finish this goddamn dining room. Of course, the balmy weather we've been enjoying left around 3 AM and the wind started kicking up around 35 mph. Yeah, yeah, at least I'm not in south Florida. But, the wind is blowing the pecans out of the trees and it sounds like central Baghdad outside. Not comforting when you live in the 'hood.
Oh well, looks like it's time to get back to the most boring job on the planet. If I can't get a construction job in Europe by Spring, I'm leaving for Fiji with two of my cats. I'll get a job cleaning hotel rooms or waiting tables. Anything is better than this.
On a bright note, I've managed to lose even another 5 pounds this past week. I guess there is one silver lining around the mono cloud. Who would have guessed. Eight months on a treadmill, running like a hamster on crack - 3 miles a day - and nothing. Then, get sick and drop 30 lbs in four weeks. God can be so wily sometimes.
Oh yeah, and the squirrels were released yesterday. I haven't seen them since they crawled up the Dogwood tree, but I do hope these past six weeks have not been in vain. I am waiting to walk outside one morning and see that Linus has decided to leave them for my breakfast. Now, that would be a wily God thing to do.
Wednesday, October 19, 2005
Finally!
After three days of pulling out my hair, I finally got the damn squirrel pictures posted to the blog. What a total pain in the ass that was. Of course, if I had been blogging of late, I would have remembered how to do it. I guess it's not a smart thing to be screwing around with IT stuff when you have brain fry.
Speaking of brain fry - today marks just about two weeks since I started getting sick. Unfortunately, I'm one of those who doesn't want to listen to the bod when it starts to break down and instead of sitting around on my ass - I chose to renovate my dining room. Well, let me tell you - the bod won out today as I was as sick as sick can get. So sit on our ass is what is on the agenda for tonight - and maybe even tomorrow. Not like work will miss me.
Actually, work went pretty well this morning. One of the projects that I refused to be a part of, went legal and today was the first day of court for some of my former colleagues. Why is that good? Because the Moe-Rons that initiated the project in the beginning started off so backward-ass, that it was only a matter of time. What a shame - a 65 Million dollar pooch screw.
Oh yeah, and also today, we got a lecture from the Georgia ADA folks that NO longer will they turn a blind eye to our projects not being 100% accessible. This really got my former boss right in the pants - snicker snicker. They now have to put an elevator into the next renovation they are doing. But since they planned on starting this renovation in December and they simply can't pull an additional $1 mil out of their pockets, I think the job will get moved. Ohhhhh, so sad.
Enough. Time to check out what Jon and they boys are up to on Daily Show. Oh yeah, and if you haven't caught the new show, "They Call Me Earle", it is absolutely hilarious.
Speaking of brain fry - today marks just about two weeks since I started getting sick. Unfortunately, I'm one of those who doesn't want to listen to the bod when it starts to break down and instead of sitting around on my ass - I chose to renovate my dining room. Well, let me tell you - the bod won out today as I was as sick as sick can get. So sit on our ass is what is on the agenda for tonight - and maybe even tomorrow. Not like work will miss me.
Actually, work went pretty well this morning. One of the projects that I refused to be a part of, went legal and today was the first day of court for some of my former colleagues. Why is that good? Because the Moe-Rons that initiated the project in the beginning started off so backward-ass, that it was only a matter of time. What a shame - a 65 Million dollar pooch screw.
Oh yeah, and also today, we got a lecture from the Georgia ADA folks that NO longer will they turn a blind eye to our projects not being 100% accessible. This really got my former boss right in the pants - snicker snicker. They now have to put an elevator into the next renovation they are doing. But since they planned on starting this renovation in December and they simply can't pull an additional $1 mil out of their pockets, I think the job will get moved. Ohhhhh, so sad.
Enough. Time to check out what Jon and they boys are up to on Daily Show. Oh yeah, and if you haven't caught the new show, "They Call Me Earle", it is absolutely hilarious.
Saturday, October 15, 2005
Pandora's Return
Holy shit - I didn't realize it had been so long since I burped up stories on my blog. What a slacker. Lots going on, but not very quickly as I am down with another mono relapse. If you don't know, mono S-U-U-U-C-K-S - it totally saps you of all your energy while making you feel like you've been run down by a Mack Truck. Yoga - even some of the easiest postures - are a no-go and just doing laundry is a bee-atch. OH YEAH - and it gives you brain-fry so don't expect much on this first blog out (no comments from the peanut gallery regarding my natural brain-fry, please).
Anyway, I figured since I'm stuck behind the computer doing tax crap, I'd see if I could access blogger and voila! So - without further ado - I present to you
Larry - Moe and Curly
They actually survived (better than me as it turns out) from the Vermont trip or as it had been known, "The Joe and Lia Show". This was a very fine week in the Northeast and if the news agencies haven't already showered everyone with stories, I probably will over the next few days - that's if Ms. Brain-Fry can remember the password to the blogger site.
It has been as crazy a three days back as it was the entire eight days gone. Things in HotLanta are really not that hot. Why do you ask? Where do we start?
Work - How in the hell did I wind up with a job that pays me a good bit of money to do nothing while working for one of the nicest guys ever placed on earth? This little mantra of mine was repeated more times than folks really wanted to hear at the wedding, but it struck me particularly hard when I struggled back to work yesterday. According to my boss, the City of Atlanta has had no communication with our office in two weeks - this from a time where we were getting DAILY utility cut-off notices, credit notices (although I'm not sure how you report Georgia Tech to a credit agency) and sometimes - on those good days - someone would get served a subpoena. To not have any calls, letters, notes, whatnot??? So I'm told it's because I've bombarded the City with issues that fall on their watch and they have called back the dogs. OK - this may sound somewhat sophist, but that's the equivalent to the US Air Force dropping nukes on a school of elderly alzheimer's patients (and not to say I'm like the US Air Force, but you get the relevance.) But, I'm bored. This job is not fun and everyone should have a fun job. Everyone says, "Why are you bitching? You have it made." Actually, the grass might actually have been greener on the other side than I thought. At least I could have had fun making Fran's life hell on earth. Oh - and to add pain (or kudos depending on your perception), my former collegues told me that one of the best Construction Managers in the business asked for me on this job they just bid! Of course, I'm NOT in construction anymore. But what a pretty feather that was for moi.
Spanky and The City - Boy howdie, did I come close to asking Baby Bro to sell Spanky. There is simply too much to do and - dare I say it - I'm feeling really old. There is also so much bullshit involved in establishing a regentrified area ESPECIALLY when you're trying to do it in Neo-Con Country. For example, as we blog, there are these mini-wars between the municipalities that want to incorporate, the City of Atlanta, and Fulton County. My boss is one of those ITP(inside the Perimeter)- burbanites. He makes his case to me sometimes if there's a real hot-button issue in the media, but I just don't get the whole thing. Now, as an Urban Pioneer, we have a chance to have light rail come right by our neighbourhood and there are these brutal battles occurring where - well, let's just say, some folks don't want to pay their portion of the tax because they aren't ready to support some of the places where the rail will run. OH SHIT - you mean, Bubba-the-Crack-Dealer can't get to Buckhead on the new Beltline? PLEASE. If someone - besides die-hard Capitalists - could explain this to me. I must have been smoking a joint during that Civics class.
Back to Spanky - hmmmm, where do we start? How about a (very bad) picture:
That's MY yard, not Fred Sanford's. Those of you that have been here know that normally you can see down to the garden. However, those long, wooden sticks covered with leaves are pecan branches that have fallen over the Summer. Yes, I'm thankful they did not fall on Spanky, but please. We already cut a nearly a cord with the limbs that came down in the Spring. Here's something ironic - One of the main reasons I loved Spanky was for the duel fireplaces. So, after four years, I had someone come out this Spring to give me a price on securing them for burning wood. At the time, I was actually concerned about paying for the wood I'd need over the winter. Well, Guido's price came in way too high so I blew him off. Now I've got enough wood to heat the entire Alaskan tundra, but no place to burn it.
The focus of renovation has majorly shifted to the dining room (after all, you can't do construction in a basement where you're raising squirrels). Anyway, this should be the coolest room in the house to do. LOTS of plaster work, which will be interesting. I was even thinking - during bouts of admitted delirium - about ripping out the wall between the dining room and kitchen and opening it up. But there is this killer brick oven stack that I really don't want to mess with. There's also the issue of T-I-M-E. Apparently, Spanky will be hosting guests at Thanksgiving. More on that in another rant.
With regard to the dining room, I will need some suggestions. I think I will forgo the "period" norm of wainscotting, chair, elaborate crown, half ventian plaster/half wallpaper (Sadly, I've never hung wall paper and I could only imagine my practice rounds). That being said, I have a friend who can hang crown mold (Mom, that's the wood trim around the ceiling), and I can do the chair rail (Mom, that's the wood strip around the middle of the wall) and the wainscotting (those panels below). OR would it look better just paint? Period has the bottom of the chair in wallpaper, but let me tell you - NOBODY today wants the wallpaper from this period. Reminds me of the bluebells on the wall in the bedroom where we stayed last week.
Looking around, you never know how much stuff you have until you have to move it. Looking at the clock, I've been reguritating for over an hour. So glad I was productive and didn't do the tax stuff - or the laundry - or the packing.
Now that I've figured out how to get back on my blog and the new software makes it easier to upload pictures, keep posted! Life is only getting better.
Anyway, I figured since I'm stuck behind the computer doing tax crap, I'd see if I could access blogger and voila! So - without further ado - I present to you
Larry - Moe and Curly
They actually survived (better than me as it turns out) from the Vermont trip or as it had been known, "The Joe and Lia Show". This was a very fine week in the Northeast and if the news agencies haven't already showered everyone with stories, I probably will over the next few days - that's if Ms. Brain-Fry can remember the password to the blogger site.
It has been as crazy a three days back as it was the entire eight days gone. Things in HotLanta are really not that hot. Why do you ask? Where do we start?
Work - How in the hell did I wind up with a job that pays me a good bit of money to do nothing while working for one of the nicest guys ever placed on earth? This little mantra of mine was repeated more times than folks really wanted to hear at the wedding, but it struck me particularly hard when I struggled back to work yesterday. According to my boss, the City of Atlanta has had no communication with our office in two weeks - this from a time where we were getting DAILY utility cut-off notices, credit notices (although I'm not sure how you report Georgia Tech to a credit agency) and sometimes - on those good days - someone would get served a subpoena. To not have any calls, letters, notes, whatnot??? So I'm told it's because I've bombarded the City with issues that fall on their watch and they have called back the dogs. OK - this may sound somewhat sophist, but that's the equivalent to the US Air Force dropping nukes on a school of elderly alzheimer's patients (and not to say I'm like the US Air Force, but you get the relevance.) But, I'm bored. This job is not fun and everyone should have a fun job. Everyone says, "Why are you bitching? You have it made." Actually, the grass might actually have been greener on the other side than I thought. At least I could have had fun making Fran's life hell on earth. Oh - and to add pain (or kudos depending on your perception), my former collegues told me that one of the best Construction Managers in the business asked for me on this job they just bid! Of course, I'm NOT in construction anymore. But what a pretty feather that was for moi.
Spanky and The City - Boy howdie, did I come close to asking Baby Bro to sell Spanky. There is simply too much to do and - dare I say it - I'm feeling really old. There is also so much bullshit involved in establishing a regentrified area ESPECIALLY when you're trying to do it in Neo-Con Country. For example, as we blog, there are these mini-wars between the municipalities that want to incorporate, the City of Atlanta, and Fulton County. My boss is one of those ITP(inside the Perimeter)- burbanites. He makes his case to me sometimes if there's a real hot-button issue in the media, but I just don't get the whole thing. Now, as an Urban Pioneer, we have a chance to have light rail come right by our neighbourhood and there are these brutal battles occurring where - well, let's just say, some folks don't want to pay their portion of the tax because they aren't ready to support some of the places where the rail will run. OH SHIT - you mean, Bubba-the-Crack-Dealer can't get to Buckhead on the new Beltline? PLEASE. If someone - besides die-hard Capitalists - could explain this to me. I must have been smoking a joint during that Civics class.
Back to Spanky - hmmmm, where do we start? How about a (very bad) picture:
That's MY yard, not Fred Sanford's. Those of you that have been here know that normally you can see down to the garden. However, those long, wooden sticks covered with leaves are pecan branches that have fallen over the Summer. Yes, I'm thankful they did not fall on Spanky, but please. We already cut a nearly a cord with the limbs that came down in the Spring. Here's something ironic - One of the main reasons I loved Spanky was for the duel fireplaces. So, after four years, I had someone come out this Spring to give me a price on securing them for burning wood. At the time, I was actually concerned about paying for the wood I'd need over the winter. Well, Guido's price came in way too high so I blew him off. Now I've got enough wood to heat the entire Alaskan tundra, but no place to burn it.
The focus of renovation has majorly shifted to the dining room (after all, you can't do construction in a basement where you're raising squirrels). Anyway, this should be the coolest room in the house to do. LOTS of plaster work, which will be interesting. I was even thinking - during bouts of admitted delirium - about ripping out the wall between the dining room and kitchen and opening it up. But there is this killer brick oven stack that I really don't want to mess with. There's also the issue of T-I-M-E. Apparently, Spanky will be hosting guests at Thanksgiving. More on that in another rant.
With regard to the dining room, I will need some suggestions. I think I will forgo the "period" norm of wainscotting, chair, elaborate crown, half ventian plaster/half wallpaper (Sadly, I've never hung wall paper and I could only imagine my practice rounds). That being said, I have a friend who can hang crown mold (Mom, that's the wood trim around the ceiling), and I can do the chair rail (Mom, that's the wood strip around the middle of the wall) and the wainscotting (those panels below). OR would it look better just paint? Period has the bottom of the chair in wallpaper, but let me tell you - NOBODY today wants the wallpaper from this period. Reminds me of the bluebells on the wall in the bedroom where we stayed last week
Looking around, you never know how much stuff you have until you have to move it. Looking at the clock, I've been reguritating for over an hour. So glad I was productive and didn't do the tax stuff - or the laundry - or the packing.
Now that I've figured out how to get back on my blog and the new software makes it easier to upload pictures, keep posted! Life is only getting better.
Tuesday, May 10, 2005
It's Been a Whole Month
I had no idea it had been a whole month since my last blog. The new job must really be mind consuming if I don't have the chance to blog occasionally. Actually, today is the first day I have read the paper in several weeks and I can't remember the last time I saw the evening news. Hmmmm, after reviewing the AJC today, though, maybe it's a good thing I've been out-of-the-loop.
Looks as though Georgia will be the first anti-abortion state - that is if Sonny signs yet another law that makes people wait 24-hours to have an abortion. Teenagers also have to have driving school or they can't get a license until they are 17 (like that's going to make a huge difference on the road) and, oh yeah, and yesterday he signed a bill making it illegal to smoke almost anywhere in the state. Not that the smoking ban really bothers me since I quit, but this bill approval came from the same man that said he "didn't think government should be a person's nanny." No abortions, no driving, no smoking - who's your nanny?
Looks as though Georgia will be the first anti-abortion state - that is if Sonny signs yet another law that makes people wait 24-hours to have an abortion. Teenagers also have to have driving school or they can't get a license until they are 17 (like that's going to make a huge difference on the road) and, oh yeah, and yesterday he signed a bill making it illegal to smoke almost anywhere in the state. Not that the smoking ban really bothers me since I quit, but this bill approval came from the same man that said he "didn't think government should be a person's nanny." No abortions, no driving, no smoking - who's your nanny?
Friday, April 08, 2005
I only wish...
I had this many people at my funeral
Of course, I'm nowhere near eligible for election as the Pontiff nor the sainthood.
I got up this morning at the bright time of 0h-three A.M. To quote Robin Williams, "What's the 'Oh' stand for? Oh my God, it's early". The last time I got up this early to watch an event on TV was in 1981 when Prince Charles and Princess Diana were married. Ironic isn't it that he'll be getting married again tomorrow.
As for the Pope's funeral, it really was beautiful and amazing. To see all these people peacefully gathered was something I don't think I will ever see again. The service itself was also a tear jerker and the homily (we don't have eulogies) was brilliant. I posted it below, but one of the best parts was the final paragraph:
"None of us can ever forget how in that last Easter Sunday of his life, the Holy Father, marked by suffering, came once more to the window of the Apostolic Palace and one last time gave his blessing urbi et orbi. We can be sure that our beloved pope is standing today at the window of the Father's house, that he sees us and blesses us. Yes, bless us, Holy Father. We entrust your dear soul to the Mother of God, your Mother, who guided you each day and who will guide you now to the eternal glory of her Son, our Lord Jesus Christ. Amen."
I think the Italians and everyone who attended today's services should be commended. I think I will always regret not going to Rome this week as this was definately a once-in-a-lifetime event.
Rest in Peace, Your Holiness.
Text of the homily read, in Italian, by Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger, dean of the College of Cardinals, during the funeral Mass of Pope John Paul II. Translation provided by the Vatican:
"Follow me." The Risen Lord says these words to Peter. They are his last words to this disciple, chosen to shepherd his flock. "Follow me" — this lapidary saying of Christ can be taken as the key to understanding the message which comes to us from the life of our late beloved Pope John Paul II. Today we bury his remains in the earth as a seed of immortality — our hearts are full of sadness, yet at the same time of joyful hope and profound gratitude.
These are the sentiments that inspire us, Brothers and Sisters in Christ, present here in St. Peter's Square, in neighboring streets and in various other locations within the city of Rome, where an immense crowd, silently praying, has gathered over the last few days. I greet all of you from my heart. In the name of the College of Cardinals, I also wish to express my respects to Heads of State, Heads of Government and the delegations from various countries. I greet the Authorities and official representatives of other Churches and Christian Communities, and likewise those of different religions. Next I greet the Archbishops, Bishops, priests, religious men and women and the faithful who have come here from every Continent; especially the young, whom John Paul II liked to call the future and the hope of the Church. My greeting is extended, moreover, to all those throughout the world who are united with us through radio and television in this solemn celebration of our beloved Holy Father's funeral.
Follow me — as a young student Karol Wojtyla was thrilled by literature, the theater, and poetry. Working in a chemical plant, surrounded and threatened by the Nazi terror, he heard the voice of the Lord: Follow me! In this extraordinary setting he began to read books of philosophy and theology, and then entered the clandestine seminary established by Cardinal Sapieha. After the war he was able to complete his studies in the faculty of theology of the Jagiellonian University of Krakow. How often, in his letters to priests and in his autobiographical books has he spoken to us about his priesthood, to which he was ordained on Nov. 1, 1946. In these texts he interprets his priesthood with particular reference to three sayings of the Lord. First: "You did not choose me, but I chose you. And I appointed you to go and bear fruit, fruit that will last" (John 15:16). The second saying is: "The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep" (John 10:11). And then: "As the father has loved me, so I have loved you; abide in my love" (John 15:9). In these three sayings we see the heart and soul of our Holy Father. He really went everywhere, untiringly, in order to bear fruit, fruit that lasts. "Rise, Let us be on our Way!" is the title of his next-to-last book. "Rise, let us be on our way!" — with these words he roused us from a lethargic faith, from the sleep of the disciples of both yesterday and today. "Rise, let us be on our way!" he continues to say to us even today. The Holy Father was a priest to the last, for he offered his life to God for his flock and for the entire human family, in a daily self-oblation for the service of the Church, especially amid the sufferings of his final months. And this way he became one with Christ, the Good Shepherd who loves his sheep. Finally, "abide in my love:" the Pope who tried to meet everyone, who had an ability to forgive and to open his heart to all, tells us once again today, with these words of the Lord, that by abiding in the love of Christ we learn, at the school of Christ, the art of true love.
Follow me! In July 1958 the young priest Karol Wojtyla began a new stage in his journey with the Lord in the footsteps of the Lord. Karol had gone to the Masuri Lakes for his usual vacation, along with a group of young people who loved canoeing. But he brought with him a letter inviting him to call on the Primate of Poland, Cardinal Wyszynski. He could guess the purpose of the meeting: he was to be appointed as the auxiliary Bishop of Krakow. Leaving the academic world, leaving this challenging engagement with young people, leaving the great intellectual endeavor of striving to understand and to interpret the mystery of that creature which is man and of communicating to today's world the Christian interpretation of our being — all this must have seemed to him like losing his very self, losing what had become the very human identity of this young priest. Follow me — Karol Wojtyla accepted the appointment for he heard in the Church's call the voice of Christ. And then he realized how true are the Lord's words: "Those who try to make their life secure will lose it, but those who lose their life will keep it" (Luke 17:53). Our pope — and we all know this — never wanted to make his own life secure, to keep it for himself, he wanted to give of himself unreservedly, to the very last moment, for Christ and thus also for us. And thus he came to experience how everything which he had given over into the Lord's hands came back to him in a new way. His love of words, of poetry, of literature became an essential part of his pastoral mission and gave his new vitality, new urgency, new attractiveness to the preaching of the Gospel, even when it is a sign of contradiction.
Follow me! In October 1978, Cardinal Wojtyla once again heard the voice of the Lord. Once more there took place that dialogue with Peter reported in the Gospel of this Mass: "Simon, son of John, do you love me? Feed my sheep!' To the Lord's question, `Karol, do you love me?' the archbishop of Krakow answered from the depths of his heart: "Lord, you know everything: you know that I love you." The love of Christ was the dominant force in the life of our beloved Holy Father. Anyone who ever saw him pray, who ever heard him preach, knows that. Thanks to his being profoundly rooted in Christ, he was able to bear a burden which transcends merely human abilities: that of being the shepherd of Christ's flock, his universal Church. This is not the time to speak of the specific content of this rich pontificate. I would like only to read two passages of today's liturgy which reflect the central elements of his message. In the first reading, St. Peter says — and with St. Peter, the pope himself — "I truly understand that God shows no partiality, but in every nation anyone who fears him and does what is right is acceptable to him. You know the message he sent to the people of Israel, preaching peace by Jesus Christ — he is Lord of all" (Acts of the Apostles 10:34-36). And in the second reading, St. Paul — and with St. Paul, our late Pope — exhorts us, crying out: "My brothers and sisters, whom I love and long for, my joy and my crown, stand firm in the Lord in this way, my beloved" (Philippians 4:1).
Follow me! Together with the command to feed his flock, Christ proclaimed to Peter that he would die a martyr's death. With those words, which conclude and sum up the dialogue on the love and on the mandate of the universal shepherd, the Lord recalls another dialogue, which took place during the Last Supper. There Jesus had said: "Where I am going, you cannot come." Peter said to him, "Lord, where are you going?" Jesus replied: "Where I cam going, you cannot follow me now: but you will follow me afterward." (John 13:33-36). Jesus from the Supper went toward the Cross, went toward his Resurrection — he entered into the paschal mystery; and Peter could not follow him. Now — after the Resurrection — comes the time, comes this "afterward." By shepherding the flock of Christ, Peter enters into the paschal mystery, he goes toward the cross and the Resurrection. The Lord says this in these words: "`....when you were younger, you used to fasten your own belt and to go wherever you wished. But when you grow old, you will stretch out your hands, and someone else will fasten a belt around you and take you where you do not wish to go; (John 21:18) In the first years of his pontificate, still young and full of energy, the Holy Father went to very ends of the Earth, guided by Christ. But afterward, he increasingly entered into the communion of Christ's sufferings; increasingly he understood the truth of the words: "Someone else will fasten a belt around you." And in the very communion with the suffering Lord, tirelessly and with renewed intensity, he proclaimed the Gospel, the mystery of that love which goes to the end (John 13:1).
He interpreted for us the paschal mystery as a mystery of divine mercy. In his last book, he wrote: The limit imposed upon evil "is ultimately Divine Mercy" ("Memory and Identity," p. 60-61). And reflecting on the assassination attempt, he said: "In sacrificing himself for us all, Christ gave a new meaning to suffering, opening up a new dimension, a new order: the order of love. ... It is this suffering which burns and consumes evil with the flame of love and draws forth even from sin a great flowering of good." Impelled by this vision, the pope suffered and loved in communion with Christ, and that is why the message of his suffering and his silence proved so eloquent and so fruitful.
Divine Mercy: the Holy Father found the purest reflection of God's mercy in the Mother of God. He who at an early age had lost his own mother, loved his divine mother all the more. He heard the words of the crucified Lord as addressed personally to him: "Behold your Mother." And so he did as the beloved disciple did: he took her into his own home;" (John 19:27)
_ Totus tuus. And from the mother he learned to conform himself to Christ.
None of us can ever forget how in that last Easter Sunday of his life, the Holy Father, marked by suffering, came once more to the window of the Apostolic Palace and one last time gave his blessing urbi et orbi. We can be sure that our beloved pope is standing today at the window of the Father's house, that he sees us and blesses us. Yes, bless us, Holy Father. We entrust your dear soul to the Mother of God, your Mother, who guided you each day and who will guide you now to the eternal glory of her Son, our Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.
Of course, I'm nowhere near eligible for election as the Pontiff nor the sainthood.
I got up this morning at the bright time of 0h-three A.M. To quote Robin Williams, "What's the 'Oh' stand for? Oh my God, it's early". The last time I got up this early to watch an event on TV was in 1981 when Prince Charles and Princess Diana were married. Ironic isn't it that he'll be getting married again tomorrow.
As for the Pope's funeral, it really was beautiful and amazing. To see all these people peacefully gathered was something I don't think I will ever see again. The service itself was also a tear jerker and the homily (we don't have eulogies) was brilliant. I posted it below, but one of the best parts was the final paragraph:
"None of us can ever forget how in that last Easter Sunday of his life, the Holy Father, marked by suffering, came once more to the window of the Apostolic Palace and one last time gave his blessing urbi et orbi. We can be sure that our beloved pope is standing today at the window of the Father's house, that he sees us and blesses us. Yes, bless us, Holy Father. We entrust your dear soul to the Mother of God, your Mother, who guided you each day and who will guide you now to the eternal glory of her Son, our Lord Jesus Christ. Amen."
I think the Italians and everyone who attended today's services should be commended. I think I will always regret not going to Rome this week as this was definately a once-in-a-lifetime event.
Rest in Peace, Your Holiness.
Text of the homily read, in Italian, by Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger, dean of the College of Cardinals, during the funeral Mass of Pope John Paul II. Translation provided by the Vatican:
"Follow me." The Risen Lord says these words to Peter. They are his last words to this disciple, chosen to shepherd his flock. "Follow me" — this lapidary saying of Christ can be taken as the key to understanding the message which comes to us from the life of our late beloved Pope John Paul II. Today we bury his remains in the earth as a seed of immortality — our hearts are full of sadness, yet at the same time of joyful hope and profound gratitude.
These are the sentiments that inspire us, Brothers and Sisters in Christ, present here in St. Peter's Square, in neighboring streets and in various other locations within the city of Rome, where an immense crowd, silently praying, has gathered over the last few days. I greet all of you from my heart. In the name of the College of Cardinals, I also wish to express my respects to Heads of State, Heads of Government and the delegations from various countries. I greet the Authorities and official representatives of other Churches and Christian Communities, and likewise those of different religions. Next I greet the Archbishops, Bishops, priests, religious men and women and the faithful who have come here from every Continent; especially the young, whom John Paul II liked to call the future and the hope of the Church. My greeting is extended, moreover, to all those throughout the world who are united with us through radio and television in this solemn celebration of our beloved Holy Father's funeral.
Follow me — as a young student Karol Wojtyla was thrilled by literature, the theater, and poetry. Working in a chemical plant, surrounded and threatened by the Nazi terror, he heard the voice of the Lord: Follow me! In this extraordinary setting he began to read books of philosophy and theology, and then entered the clandestine seminary established by Cardinal Sapieha. After the war he was able to complete his studies in the faculty of theology of the Jagiellonian University of Krakow. How often, in his letters to priests and in his autobiographical books has he spoken to us about his priesthood, to which he was ordained on Nov. 1, 1946. In these texts he interprets his priesthood with particular reference to three sayings of the Lord. First: "You did not choose me, but I chose you. And I appointed you to go and bear fruit, fruit that will last" (John 15:16). The second saying is: "The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep" (John 10:11). And then: "As the father has loved me, so I have loved you; abide in my love" (John 15:9). In these three sayings we see the heart and soul of our Holy Father. He really went everywhere, untiringly, in order to bear fruit, fruit that lasts. "Rise, Let us be on our Way!" is the title of his next-to-last book. "Rise, let us be on our way!" — with these words he roused us from a lethargic faith, from the sleep of the disciples of both yesterday and today. "Rise, let us be on our way!" he continues to say to us even today. The Holy Father was a priest to the last, for he offered his life to God for his flock and for the entire human family, in a daily self-oblation for the service of the Church, especially amid the sufferings of his final months. And this way he became one with Christ, the Good Shepherd who loves his sheep. Finally, "abide in my love:" the Pope who tried to meet everyone, who had an ability to forgive and to open his heart to all, tells us once again today, with these words of the Lord, that by abiding in the love of Christ we learn, at the school of Christ, the art of true love.
Follow me! In July 1958 the young priest Karol Wojtyla began a new stage in his journey with the Lord in the footsteps of the Lord. Karol had gone to the Masuri Lakes for his usual vacation, along with a group of young people who loved canoeing. But he brought with him a letter inviting him to call on the Primate of Poland, Cardinal Wyszynski. He could guess the purpose of the meeting: he was to be appointed as the auxiliary Bishop of Krakow. Leaving the academic world, leaving this challenging engagement with young people, leaving the great intellectual endeavor of striving to understand and to interpret the mystery of that creature which is man and of communicating to today's world the Christian interpretation of our being — all this must have seemed to him like losing his very self, losing what had become the very human identity of this young priest. Follow me — Karol Wojtyla accepted the appointment for he heard in the Church's call the voice of Christ. And then he realized how true are the Lord's words: "Those who try to make their life secure will lose it, but those who lose their life will keep it" (Luke 17:53). Our pope — and we all know this — never wanted to make his own life secure, to keep it for himself, he wanted to give of himself unreservedly, to the very last moment, for Christ and thus also for us. And thus he came to experience how everything which he had given over into the Lord's hands came back to him in a new way. His love of words, of poetry, of literature became an essential part of his pastoral mission and gave his new vitality, new urgency, new attractiveness to the preaching of the Gospel, even when it is a sign of contradiction.
Follow me! In October 1978, Cardinal Wojtyla once again heard the voice of the Lord. Once more there took place that dialogue with Peter reported in the Gospel of this Mass: "Simon, son of John, do you love me? Feed my sheep!' To the Lord's question, `Karol, do you love me?' the archbishop of Krakow answered from the depths of his heart: "Lord, you know everything: you know that I love you." The love of Christ was the dominant force in the life of our beloved Holy Father. Anyone who ever saw him pray, who ever heard him preach, knows that. Thanks to his being profoundly rooted in Christ, he was able to bear a burden which transcends merely human abilities: that of being the shepherd of Christ's flock, his universal Church. This is not the time to speak of the specific content of this rich pontificate. I would like only to read two passages of today's liturgy which reflect the central elements of his message. In the first reading, St. Peter says — and with St. Peter, the pope himself — "I truly understand that God shows no partiality, but in every nation anyone who fears him and does what is right is acceptable to him. You know the message he sent to the people of Israel, preaching peace by Jesus Christ — he is Lord of all" (Acts of the Apostles 10:34-36). And in the second reading, St. Paul — and with St. Paul, our late Pope — exhorts us, crying out: "My brothers and sisters, whom I love and long for, my joy and my crown, stand firm in the Lord in this way, my beloved" (Philippians 4:1).
Follow me! Together with the command to feed his flock, Christ proclaimed to Peter that he would die a martyr's death. With those words, which conclude and sum up the dialogue on the love and on the mandate of the universal shepherd, the Lord recalls another dialogue, which took place during the Last Supper. There Jesus had said: "Where I am going, you cannot come." Peter said to him, "Lord, where are you going?" Jesus replied: "Where I cam going, you cannot follow me now: but you will follow me afterward." (John 13:33-36). Jesus from the Supper went toward the Cross, went toward his Resurrection — he entered into the paschal mystery; and Peter could not follow him. Now — after the Resurrection — comes the time, comes this "afterward." By shepherding the flock of Christ, Peter enters into the paschal mystery, he goes toward the cross and the Resurrection. The Lord says this in these words: "`....when you were younger, you used to fasten your own belt and to go wherever you wished. But when you grow old, you will stretch out your hands, and someone else will fasten a belt around you and take you where you do not wish to go; (John 21:18) In the first years of his pontificate, still young and full of energy, the Holy Father went to very ends of the Earth, guided by Christ. But afterward, he increasingly entered into the communion of Christ's sufferings; increasingly he understood the truth of the words: "Someone else will fasten a belt around you." And in the very communion with the suffering Lord, tirelessly and with renewed intensity, he proclaimed the Gospel, the mystery of that love which goes to the end (John 13:1).
He interpreted for us the paschal mystery as a mystery of divine mercy. In his last book, he wrote: The limit imposed upon evil "is ultimately Divine Mercy" ("Memory and Identity," p. 60-61). And reflecting on the assassination attempt, he said: "In sacrificing himself for us all, Christ gave a new meaning to suffering, opening up a new dimension, a new order: the order of love. ... It is this suffering which burns and consumes evil with the flame of love and draws forth even from sin a great flowering of good." Impelled by this vision, the pope suffered and loved in communion with Christ, and that is why the message of his suffering and his silence proved so eloquent and so fruitful.
Divine Mercy: the Holy Father found the purest reflection of God's mercy in the Mother of God. He who at an early age had lost his own mother, loved his divine mother all the more. He heard the words of the crucified Lord as addressed personally to him: "Behold your Mother." And so he did as the beloved disciple did: he took her into his own home;" (John 19:27)
_ Totus tuus. And from the mother he learned to conform himself to Christ.
None of us can ever forget how in that last Easter Sunday of his life, the Holy Father, marked by suffering, came once more to the window of the Apostolic Palace and one last time gave his blessing urbi et orbi. We can be sure that our beloved pope is standing today at the window of the Father's house, that he sees us and blesses us. Yes, bless us, Holy Father. We entrust your dear soul to the Mother of God, your Mother, who guided you each day and who will guide you now to the eternal glory of her Son, our Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.
Thursday, April 07, 2005
His Holiness, My Buddy
Yessir, that's right, JP was my buddy. Or at least that's what Uncle used to call him since I'm one of the few Catholics left in the family. I don't think you have to be Catholic to appreciate what he did for this world, however, gere is a great article about John Paul II and his contribution to our world as we know it (you political pundits out there will enjoy this as well.) It's kind of long, but read it if you can.
I do, however, take exception to the idea that John Paul II was a conservative. In most of our views, he was a liberal because he was constantly being told to reverse most of the doctrines of the Second Vatican Council that met in 1963, but he refused stating the new dogma was needed to ensure we move forward into the 21st century.
I think, too, that enlight of what we have discovered - or rediscovered - regarding Jesus, Mary Magdalene, John, and others that the Pope could have softened a bit on his views regarding women in the Priesthood and most definately, the issue of contraception, especially in the AIDS infected third world. In this sense, it's not so much about contraception as immunization.
I haven't been able to write much about the loss of the Pope, because he's the only Pope I've ever known (I was nine when he was elected.) John Paul was definately a lion in a lamb suit.
> > Gary North's REALITY CHECK
> >
> >Issue 435 April 5, 2005
> >
> >
> > WHAT I LEARNED FROM JOHN PAUL II
> >
> > I shall leave it to other columnists to comment on the
> >profound impact of John Paul II on our times. I am content
> >to confine myself to comments on what I learned from his
> >ministry.
> >
> >
> >THE INESCAPABLE INFLUENCE OF THE UNPREDICTABLE
> >
> > Robert Burns's phrase about the best-laid plans of
> >mice and men often going awry is illustrated better by John
> >Paul II's career than anyone in my era. Only one other
> >figure comes close: Deng Xiao Ping. The best-laid plans
> >can come to naught in an amazingly short period of time.
> >
> > The year 1978 was a year of expected caretakers. In
> >March, Deng Xiao Ping had become the undisputed leader of
> >Communist China. At age 74, he seemed old: probably a
> >caretaker. The National People's Congress decided to go
> >with a safe bet: age.
> >
> > Pope Paul VI died in early August. He had overseen
> >the transformation of the Roman Catholic Church. The death
> >of John XXIII in 1963, after Vatican II had begun, left to
> >Paul VI the task of overseeing the sessions and
> >implementing them. This he did. The Church changed more
> >under his administration in 15 years than had taken place
> >in the previous 500 years -- maybe 1,000. It moved
> >decisively in a liberal/modernist direction.
> >
> > The election of John Paul I took place in one day of
> >the Conclave in late August, 1978. There is no doubt in my
> >mind that a Conclave that brief indicates pre-Conclave
> >agreement regarding a short list of candidates before the
> >cardinals were locked in their room (which is what
> >"conclave" means). John Paul I was to be a caretaker Pope.
> >He immediately took the names of his two predecessors,
> >indicating his commitment to extend Vatican II. Thirty-
> >three days later, he died.
> >
> > There are lots of really choice conspiracy theories
> >about his death. My favorite has to do with the secret
> >Masonic brotherhood, P2, and its connection to the
> >unfolding Bank Ambrosia scandal. Do I actually believe he
> >was murdered? There is insufficient evidence to persuade
> >me. (The standard book on this non-standard theory is
> >David Yallop's "In God's Name." The fictional account is
> >the novel by Malachi Martin, "Vatican.")
> >
> > Whatever the cause of his death, no conspiracy theory
> >has come close to explaining the outcome: the election of a
> >Polish Pope and what followed next.
> >
> > The Conclave that elected John Paul II took three
> >days. There are no notes published after a Conclave.
> >There are no leaks during it. Silence prevails. So,
> >theories about what went on are without verifiable support.
> >The duration indicates that there had been a short list.
> >Wojtyla was probably on the previous short list. I say
> >this because there had been little time for pre-Conclave
> >politicking. The cardinals had barely arrived home by the
> >time John Paul I died.
> >
> > Wojtyla took the name John Paul II. This was the
> >equivalent of calling Wilt Chamberlain "Wilt the Shrimp."
> >
> > Consider the next 14 months after John Paul II's election
> >in October.
> >
> > In December, Deng announced the agricultural reform
> >that transferred land ownership to farmers. That marked
> >the beginning of the capitalist revolution in Red China.
> >He lived long enough to implement his economic reforms. He
> >died in 1997. We see the results of that revolution in
> >every Wal-Mart and in every report on the U.S. trade
> >deficit.
> >
> > January, 1979: the Shah of Iran abdicated and fled
> >Iran. Khomeini took over.
> >
> > On May 3, Margaret Thatcher was elected Prime Minister
> >of Great Britain. She was to serve longer than any Prime
> >Minister in 150 years: 11 years. Under her administration,
> >much of the system of government-owned monopolies was
> >privatized.
> >
> > On June 2, John Paul II arrived in Poland and began a
> >series of public meetings that drew millions of visitors.
> >This was the beginning of the end of Communism in Poland.
> >The Solidarity movement began within a year. Poland's ex-
> >Communist tyrant, Gen. Jaruzelski, later said that this was
> >the central event in the toppling of Communism in Central
> >Europe. Gorbachev, when out of power, agreed.
> >
> > Late June: OPEC announced a 50% hike in the price of
> >oil. Jimmy Carter went into defensive mode economically.
> >
> > November 4: Iranian mobs captured the U.S. Embassy in
> >Tehran. Jimmy Carter went into defensive mode militarily.
> >
> > In December, the Soviet Union invaded Afghanistan.
> >This marked the beginning of a decade of bloodletting that
> >culminated in 1989 with the withdrawal of Soviet troops
> >and, within two years, the disintegration of the USSR.
> >
> > None of this was remotely visible in October, 1978.
> >
> > So far, I haven't mentioned Ronald Reagan.
> >
> > We know the phrase, "seize the moment." Pope John
> >Paul II not only seized the moment, he seized the next
> >quarter century. For someone officially in charge or an
> >organization that large, seizing a quarter century is no
> >small accomplishment.
> >
> >
> >NOTHING LEFT TO LOSE
> >
> > Alexandr Solzhenitsyn was the other figure of the
> >twentieth century who rivaled Pope John Paul II in undermining
> >Soviet authority by the power of his words. He, even more
> >than the Pope, made painful and embarrassing any support of
> >the Soviets by Western intellectuals, too many of whom had
> >become early admirers of Stalin and then his successors
> >until "The Gulag Archipelago" finally undermined them in
> >the mid-1970s. He wrote of his decade in the Soviet
> >concentration camps that this experience saved him. The
> >camps took everything material away from him. He had
> >nothing left to lose. Outside the camps, victims of
> >Communist oppression clung to a few possessions and
> >conformed in order to keep what little they owned. By
> >being stripped of everything, Solzhenitsyn said, he avoided
> >this fate.
> >
> > By the time Wojtyla was 21, every member of his
> >immediate family had died. The Nazis had invaded Poland
> >when he was 19. He began as a student for the priesthood
> >in a clandestine seminary. He was ordained in 1946, to
> >begin life under the Communists. He was in opposition from
> >the beginning.
> >
> > He was trained by a consummate anti-totalitarian,
> >Stefan Wyszynsky (pronounced, ironically, "Vishinski" --
> >just like the Soviet foreign minister), the primate of
> >Poland, who became a cardinal in 1953 and was immediately
> >put under house arrest for over three years. Wyszynsky
> >served as president of Vatican II in 1962. Wojtyla learned
> >how to survive under a rival bureaucracy that also claimed
> >universal authority, eschatological inevitability, and the
> >infallibility of its supreme council.
> >
> > He had no family to terrorize, no possessions to
> >confiscate. "What's a tyranny to do?" He went into
> >opposition and remained in opposition until there was
> >nothing left of worldwide Communism to oppose.
> >
> > The nothing-left strategy is not open to most men most
> >of the time. But it is what is required of a dedicated few
> >in times of moral confrontation. Mentally, you have to
> >surrender it in advance in order to preserve any of it in a
> >time of life-and-death confrontation. Jesus said: "He that
> >findeth his life shall lose it: and he that loseth his life
> >for my sake shall find it" (Matthew 10:39).
> >
> > Of all Catholic nations that had been in opposition to
> >totalitarianism longest, Poland was it in 1978. So, when
> >the Conclave chose Wojtyla, it chose the man most suited
> >for a long-term confrontation.
> >
> > The Western media have identified his strategy of
> >resistance with respect to Communism. This strategy was
> >also visible in his open confrontations in Latin America in
> >the 1980s. His opponents were priests who had joined the
> >liberation theology movement. That movement sank on the
> >Good Ship Marx after 1991, to the dismay of seminary
> >professors, Protestant and Catholic, around the world.
> >
> > We do not yet know the outcome of his strategy of
> >opposition with respect to his steady, quiet, non-headline-
> >grabbing undermining of the social liberals in the Church's
> >hierarchy.
> >
> >
> >STICK TO YOUR KNITTING
> >
> > John Paul II was the second-longest reigning Pope
> >after Pius IX (1846-1878), the Pope of Vatican I (1870).
> >
> > Under his reign, he appointed well over 100 cardinals.
> >Of the 117 eligible to vote (those under age 80), he
> >appointed all but three.
> >
> > In his 1987 book, "The Jesuits," former Jesuit Malachi
> >Martin discussed Romanita. Romanita is the ability to
> >outlast your competition. There are always factions in any
> >bureaucracy, and there is no bureaucracy with a longer
> >tradition or more factions in the West than the Roman
> >Catholic Church. The faction that provides the longest-
> >lasting survivors in any battle wins the next phase of the
> >war.
> >
> > Pius IX was a conservative. Until John XXIII reversed
> >this tradition, it held firm. Yet it was visibly on the
> >defensive within a decade of the death of Pius XII in 1958.
> >
> > I have little sense of the details of John Paul II's
> >philosophy. As for his theology, it is clear that he
> >upheld traditional Catholic views regarding the virgin
> >Mary. This outlook was the product of his years in Poland
> >and also the assassination attempt. He had moved
> >unpredictably just before he was shot, looking more closely
> >at a Sacred Heart emblem worn by a little girl. (This is
> >reported in Martin's book, "The Keys of This Blood.")
> >
> > Everyone knows his social views: no female priests, no
> >abortion, no contraception devices, no homosexuality.
> >Also, it should be added, no war. On abortion, he voiced
> >his opposition to the policy of Clinton. On war, he voiced
> >his opposition to the policies of Clinton and both Bushes.
> >
> > Year after year, appointment after appointment, he
> >wove a tapestry of traditionalism. It will take a
> >concerted effort on the part of liberals to reweave this
> >tapestry. In the seminaries, they have more than a
> >foothold. They have control. The Pope did not
> >excommunicate entire seminary faculties. To get a sense of
> >what I am talking about, click here:
> >
> > http://tinyurl.com/4jw7h
> >
> > He did not resign, although the American media kept
> >running interviews with liberal Catholics who thought he
> >should. He grew old and infirm before our eyes. He did
> >not hide what was happening to his body. He was reduced at
> >the end to silence, unable to speak in any of the eight
> >languages he spoke. But he did not hide from the cameras.
> >
> > If ever there was a man whose career said "No
> >retirement," it was his. He stayed on the job until the
> >end. It was not a bitter end, but it was painful.
> >
> >
> >WHEN YOU'VE GOT IT, USE IT
> >
> > Has any man worked the mass media better, longer?
> >
> > He got in front of the cameras, and there he stayed
> >for 26 years.
> >
> > One interviewee revealed that when the Pope first met
> >with members of the press, when the interview was over, he
> >stood up and walked around the room full of reporters to
> >shake hands. This was unheard of. They had expected to be
> >allowed to file past him, one by one.
> >
> > He had a unique skill. He exercised his ability as
> >Pope to go directly to the people -- the first Pope in
> >history to do this internationally. He made 103 trips
> >outside of Italy to some 120 countries. No other figure
> >has ever toured a reported 120 countries in front of TV
> >cameras.
> >
> > No one has ever drawn the crowds that he did. So, the
> >media had to show up. So, the crowds kept getting larger.
> >By 1995, an estimated seven million showed up to see him in
> >Manila -- the largest crowd in man's recorded history.
> >
> > He had a unique ability to capture attention. He used
> >it for all it was worth.
> >
> > The media reported that he had been an amateur actor
> >early in his career. This was not said in derision.
> >Another former actor, also known for his ability to handle
> >the media, received more criticism for his similar
> >background. In both cases, the public responded favorably.
> >
> >
> >CONCLUSION
> >
> > Deng, an old man in 1978, was not expected to do much.
> >The twenty-first century already looks back at what he did
> >and marvels.
> >
> > Brezhnev, a doddering old man in 1979, launched a war
> >in Afghanistan that brought down the USSR a decade later.
> >This caretaker failed to take care.
> >
> > John Paul I, another expected caretaker, did not
> >remain on the job long enough to fulfill his expected role.
> >
> > The Shah of Iran, a caretaker of Western oil, did not
> >stay on the job.
> >
> > Pope John Paul II knew that a resistance strategy was
> >suitable in 1978. He publicly issued traditional
> >encyclicals, while maintaining absolute mastery of the
> >media -- a skill also possessed by Mrs. Thatcher and Ronald
> >Reagan.
> >
> > What blindsided liberals after 1978 was the ability of
> >conservatives to commandeer the media to extend their
> >agendas. Liberals had long assumed that their control over
> >the media was unbreakable. They believed that they could
> >set the agenda. The best-laid plans. . . .
> >
> > In each case, what had been expected by the various
> >establishments did not come to pass.
> >
> > I am reminded of the words of my teacher, Robert
> >Nisbet, in the closing words of a June, 1968 essay in
> >"Commentary."
> >
> > What the future-predictors, the change-analysts,
> > and trend-tenders say in effect is that with the
> > aid of institute resources, computers, linear
> > programming, etc. they will deal with the kinds
> > of change that are not the consequence of the
> > Random Event, the Genius, the Maniac, and the
> > Prophet. To which I can only say: there really
> > aren't any; not any worth looking at anyhow.
> >
> >
>
>
--
I do, however, take exception to the idea that John Paul II was a conservative. In most of our views, he was a liberal because he was constantly being told to reverse most of the doctrines of the Second Vatican Council that met in 1963, but he refused stating the new dogma was needed to ensure we move forward into the 21st century.
I think, too, that enlight of what we have discovered - or rediscovered - regarding Jesus, Mary Magdalene, John, and others that the Pope could have softened a bit on his views regarding women in the Priesthood and most definately, the issue of contraception, especially in the AIDS infected third world. In this sense, it's not so much about contraception as immunization.
I haven't been able to write much about the loss of the Pope, because he's the only Pope I've ever known (I was nine when he was elected.) John Paul was definately a lion in a lamb suit.
> > Gary North's REALITY CHECK
> >
> >Issue 435 April 5, 2005
> >
> >
> > WHAT I LEARNED FROM JOHN PAUL II
> >
> > I shall leave it to other columnists to comment on the
> >profound impact of John Paul II on our times. I am content
> >to confine myself to comments on what I learned from his
> >ministry.
> >
> >
> >THE INESCAPABLE INFLUENCE OF THE UNPREDICTABLE
> >
> > Robert Burns's phrase about the best-laid plans of
> >mice and men often going awry is illustrated better by John
> >Paul II's career than anyone in my era. Only one other
> >figure comes close: Deng Xiao Ping. The best-laid plans
> >can come to naught in an amazingly short period of time.
> >
> > The year 1978 was a year of expected caretakers. In
> >March, Deng Xiao Ping had become the undisputed leader of
> >Communist China. At age 74, he seemed old: probably a
> >caretaker. The National People's Congress decided to go
> >with a safe bet: age.
> >
> > Pope Paul VI died in early August. He had overseen
> >the transformation of the Roman Catholic Church. The death
> >of John XXIII in 1963, after Vatican II had begun, left to
> >Paul VI the task of overseeing the sessions and
> >implementing them. This he did. The Church changed more
> >under his administration in 15 years than had taken place
> >in the previous 500 years -- maybe 1,000. It moved
> >decisively in a liberal/modernist direction.
> >
> > The election of John Paul I took place in one day of
> >the Conclave in late August, 1978. There is no doubt in my
> >mind that a Conclave that brief indicates pre-Conclave
> >agreement regarding a short list of candidates before the
> >cardinals were locked in their room (which is what
> >"conclave" means). John Paul I was to be a caretaker Pope.
> >He immediately took the names of his two predecessors,
> >indicating his commitment to extend Vatican II. Thirty-
> >three days later, he died.
> >
> > There are lots of really choice conspiracy theories
> >about his death. My favorite has to do with the secret
> >Masonic brotherhood, P2, and its connection to the
> >unfolding Bank Ambrosia scandal. Do I actually believe he
> >was murdered? There is insufficient evidence to persuade
> >me. (The standard book on this non-standard theory is
> >David Yallop's "In God's Name." The fictional account is
> >the novel by Malachi Martin, "Vatican.")
> >
> > Whatever the cause of his death, no conspiracy theory
> >has come close to explaining the outcome: the election of a
> >Polish Pope and what followed next.
> >
> > The Conclave that elected John Paul II took three
> >days. There are no notes published after a Conclave.
> >There are no leaks during it. Silence prevails. So,
> >theories about what went on are without verifiable support.
> >The duration indicates that there had been a short list.
> >Wojtyla was probably on the previous short list. I say
> >this because there had been little time for pre-Conclave
> >politicking. The cardinals had barely arrived home by the
> >time John Paul I died.
> >
> > Wojtyla took the name John Paul II. This was the
> >equivalent of calling Wilt Chamberlain "Wilt the Shrimp."
> >
> > Consider the next 14 months after John Paul II's election
> >in October.
> >
> > In December, Deng announced the agricultural reform
> >that transferred land ownership to farmers. That marked
> >the beginning of the capitalist revolution in Red China.
> >He lived long enough to implement his economic reforms. He
> >died in 1997. We see the results of that revolution in
> >every Wal-Mart and in every report on the U.S. trade
> >deficit.
> >
> > January, 1979: the Shah of Iran abdicated and fled
> >Iran. Khomeini took over.
> >
> > On May 3, Margaret Thatcher was elected Prime Minister
> >of Great Britain. She was to serve longer than any Prime
> >Minister in 150 years: 11 years. Under her administration,
> >much of the system of government-owned monopolies was
> >privatized.
> >
> > On June 2, John Paul II arrived in Poland and began a
> >series of public meetings that drew millions of visitors.
> >This was the beginning of the end of Communism in Poland.
> >The Solidarity movement began within a year. Poland's ex-
> >Communist tyrant, Gen. Jaruzelski, later said that this was
> >the central event in the toppling of Communism in Central
> >Europe. Gorbachev, when out of power, agreed.
> >
> > Late June: OPEC announced a 50% hike in the price of
> >oil. Jimmy Carter went into defensive mode economically.
> >
> > November 4: Iranian mobs captured the U.S. Embassy in
> >Tehran. Jimmy Carter went into defensive mode militarily.
> >
> > In December, the Soviet Union invaded Afghanistan.
> >This marked the beginning of a decade of bloodletting that
> >culminated in 1989 with the withdrawal of Soviet troops
> >and, within two years, the disintegration of the USSR.
> >
> > None of this was remotely visible in October, 1978.
> >
> > So far, I haven't mentioned Ronald Reagan.
> >
> > We know the phrase, "seize the moment." Pope John
> >Paul II not only seized the moment, he seized the next
> >quarter century. For someone officially in charge or an
> >organization that large, seizing a quarter century is no
> >small accomplishment.
> >
> >
> >NOTHING LEFT TO LOSE
> >
> > Alexandr Solzhenitsyn was the other figure of the
> >twentieth century who rivaled Pope John Paul II in undermining
> >Soviet authority by the power of his words. He, even more
> >than the Pope, made painful and embarrassing any support of
> >the Soviets by Western intellectuals, too many of whom had
> >become early admirers of Stalin and then his successors
> >until "The Gulag Archipelago" finally undermined them in
> >the mid-1970s. He wrote of his decade in the Soviet
> >concentration camps that this experience saved him. The
> >camps took everything material away from him. He had
> >nothing left to lose. Outside the camps, victims of
> >Communist oppression clung to a few possessions and
> >conformed in order to keep what little they owned. By
> >being stripped of everything, Solzhenitsyn said, he avoided
> >this fate.
> >
> > By the time Wojtyla was 21, every member of his
> >immediate family had died. The Nazis had invaded Poland
> >when he was 19. He began as a student for the priesthood
> >in a clandestine seminary. He was ordained in 1946, to
> >begin life under the Communists. He was in opposition from
> >the beginning.
> >
> > He was trained by a consummate anti-totalitarian,
> >Stefan Wyszynsky (pronounced, ironically, "Vishinski" --
> >just like the Soviet foreign minister), the primate of
> >Poland, who became a cardinal in 1953 and was immediately
> >put under house arrest for over three years. Wyszynsky
> >served as president of Vatican II in 1962. Wojtyla learned
> >how to survive under a rival bureaucracy that also claimed
> >universal authority, eschatological inevitability, and the
> >infallibility of its supreme council.
> >
> > He had no family to terrorize, no possessions to
> >confiscate. "What's a tyranny to do?" He went into
> >opposition and remained in opposition until there was
> >nothing left of worldwide Communism to oppose.
> >
> > The nothing-left strategy is not open to most men most
> >of the time. But it is what is required of a dedicated few
> >in times of moral confrontation. Mentally, you have to
> >surrender it in advance in order to preserve any of it in a
> >time of life-and-death confrontation. Jesus said: "He that
> >findeth his life shall lose it: and he that loseth his life
> >for my sake shall find it" (Matthew 10:39).
> >
> > Of all Catholic nations that had been in opposition to
> >totalitarianism longest, Poland was it in 1978. So, when
> >the Conclave chose Wojtyla, it chose the man most suited
> >for a long-term confrontation.
> >
> > The Western media have identified his strategy of
> >resistance with respect to Communism. This strategy was
> >also visible in his open confrontations in Latin America in
> >the 1980s. His opponents were priests who had joined the
> >liberation theology movement. That movement sank on the
> >Good Ship Marx after 1991, to the dismay of seminary
> >professors, Protestant and Catholic, around the world.
> >
> > We do not yet know the outcome of his strategy of
> >opposition with respect to his steady, quiet, non-headline-
> >grabbing undermining of the social liberals in the Church's
> >hierarchy.
> >
> >
> >STICK TO YOUR KNITTING
> >
> > John Paul II was the second-longest reigning Pope
> >after Pius IX (1846-1878), the Pope of Vatican I (1870).
> >
> > Under his reign, he appointed well over 100 cardinals.
> >Of the 117 eligible to vote (those under age 80), he
> >appointed all but three.
> >
> > In his 1987 book, "The Jesuits," former Jesuit Malachi
> >Martin discussed Romanita. Romanita is the ability to
> >outlast your competition. There are always factions in any
> >bureaucracy, and there is no bureaucracy with a longer
> >tradition or more factions in the West than the Roman
> >Catholic Church. The faction that provides the longest-
> >lasting survivors in any battle wins the next phase of the
> >war.
> >
> > Pius IX was a conservative. Until John XXIII reversed
> >this tradition, it held firm. Yet it was visibly on the
> >defensive within a decade of the death of Pius XII in 1958.
> >
> > I have little sense of the details of John Paul II's
> >philosophy. As for his theology, it is clear that he
> >upheld traditional Catholic views regarding the virgin
> >Mary. This outlook was the product of his years in Poland
> >and also the assassination attempt. He had moved
> >unpredictably just before he was shot, looking more closely
> >at a Sacred Heart emblem worn by a little girl. (This is
> >reported in Martin's book, "The Keys of This Blood.")
> >
> > Everyone knows his social views: no female priests, no
> >abortion, no contraception devices, no homosexuality.
> >Also, it should be added, no war. On abortion, he voiced
> >his opposition to the policy of Clinton. On war, he voiced
> >his opposition to the policies of Clinton and both Bushes.
> >
> > Year after year, appointment after appointment, he
> >wove a tapestry of traditionalism. It will take a
> >concerted effort on the part of liberals to reweave this
> >tapestry. In the seminaries, they have more than a
> >foothold. They have control. The Pope did not
> >excommunicate entire seminary faculties. To get a sense of
> >what I am talking about, click here:
> >
> > http://tinyurl.com/4jw7h
> >
> > He did not resign, although the American media kept
> >running interviews with liberal Catholics who thought he
> >should. He grew old and infirm before our eyes. He did
> >not hide what was happening to his body. He was reduced at
> >the end to silence, unable to speak in any of the eight
> >languages he spoke. But he did not hide from the cameras.
> >
> > If ever there was a man whose career said "No
> >retirement," it was his. He stayed on the job until the
> >end. It was not a bitter end, but it was painful.
> >
> >
> >WHEN YOU'VE GOT IT, USE IT
> >
> > Has any man worked the mass media better, longer?
> >
> > He got in front of the cameras, and there he stayed
> >for 26 years.
> >
> > One interviewee revealed that when the Pope first met
> >with members of the press, when the interview was over, he
> >stood up and walked around the room full of reporters to
> >shake hands. This was unheard of. They had expected to be
> >allowed to file past him, one by one.
> >
> > He had a unique skill. He exercised his ability as
> >Pope to go directly to the people -- the first Pope in
> >history to do this internationally. He made 103 trips
> >outside of Italy to some 120 countries. No other figure
> >has ever toured a reported 120 countries in front of TV
> >cameras.
> >
> > No one has ever drawn the crowds that he did. So, the
> >media had to show up. So, the crowds kept getting larger.
> >By 1995, an estimated seven million showed up to see him in
> >Manila -- the largest crowd in man's recorded history.
> >
> > He had a unique ability to capture attention. He used
> >it for all it was worth.
> >
> > The media reported that he had been an amateur actor
> >early in his career. This was not said in derision.
> >Another former actor, also known for his ability to handle
> >the media, received more criticism for his similar
> >background. In both cases, the public responded favorably.
> >
> >
> >CONCLUSION
> >
> > Deng, an old man in 1978, was not expected to do much.
> >The twenty-first century already looks back at what he did
> >and marvels.
> >
> > Brezhnev, a doddering old man in 1979, launched a war
> >in Afghanistan that brought down the USSR a decade later.
> >This caretaker failed to take care.
> >
> > John Paul I, another expected caretaker, did not
> >remain on the job long enough to fulfill his expected role.
> >
> > The Shah of Iran, a caretaker of Western oil, did not
> >stay on the job.
> >
> > Pope John Paul II knew that a resistance strategy was
> >suitable in 1978. He publicly issued traditional
> >encyclicals, while maintaining absolute mastery of the
> >media -- a skill also possessed by Mrs. Thatcher and Ronald
> >Reagan.
> >
> > What blindsided liberals after 1978 was the ability of
> >conservatives to commandeer the media to extend their
> >agendas. Liberals had long assumed that their control over
> >the media was unbreakable. They believed that they could
> >set the agenda. The best-laid plans. . . .
> >
> > In each case, what had been expected by the various
> >establishments did not come to pass.
> >
> > I am reminded of the words of my teacher, Robert
> >Nisbet, in the closing words of a June, 1968 essay in
> >"Commentary."
> >
> > What the future-predictors, the change-analysts,
> > and trend-tenders say in effect is that with the
> > aid of institute resources, computers, linear
> > programming, etc. they will deal with the kinds
> > of change that are not the consequence of the
> > Random Event, the Genius, the Maniac, and the
> > Prophet. To which I can only say: there really
> > aren't any; not any worth looking at anyhow.
> >
> >
>
>
--
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