You may have heard, John Travolta’s son died Friday. He had a seizure disorder with an unfortunately motorcycle-sounding name, Kawasaki Disease. Apparently, he had a seizure in the shower and fell and hit his head. And, of course, we all know, John Travolta is a Scientologist, and Scientology is a fruity little cult. Since Scientology is big on the brainwashing recruiting, chances are, Travolta’s boy was also a Scientologist.
     You may also have heard that Sarah Palin’s kid had her baby. Certainly, we all remember that Sarah Palin is a fundie Pentacostal-type Christian who believes in witch doctors and laying of hands. Which, of course, means that her kid is probably also a bit on the fundie side, and that the new grandbaby will probably be raised to be a fundie.
     And by now, you’re probably eying the picture in this post, which is pointing out the amusing Google News sidebar I found, which lists articles about both stories, one after the other. If you’re as warped as me, your first thought was probably, I wonder if the timing works out for reincarnation? My second thought — maybe yours too — was, I wonder if that’s stepping up in cults, or stepping down?
     And yes. I just wasted half an hour writing this article. But it was an amusing half-hour, so that’s worth something, I suppose.

Nine Muslims were ordered off a US domestic flight after passengers heard one of them make what they thought were suspicious remarks. — (Source.)
     Okay, racist, racial profiling, wouldn’t have happened if it had been white folks, AirTran’s a bunch of assholes, over-reacted then were extra dickish about it, yaddayadda. We know all that. We accept all that. Hopefully, these idiots get relentlessly sued until their assholes bleed.
     The thing I want to point out is that the comments these Muslims supposedly made were pointed out by other passengers. You know what passengers are? They’re customers. You know what customers are? All the service people can chime in with me here: Customers are retarded asshats.
     Hey, I’m sorry, I know. Most of us try to at least be polite when we head into a business with money, but fuck knows I’ve had my share of retard moments when I’m out and about buying things, and if you think you haven’t, you’re either deluded or lying. Sadly, there’s a vast majority out there — people who are otherwise decent, no less — who, when they enter into a place of business, be it a restaurant, a retail store, an airport, whatever, immediately lose about fifty IQ points and become assholes. Lying, cheating, scamming assholes, at that.
     You can’t trust customers. You can’t take their word, you can’t believe anything they say, and these days, you have to automatically assume they’re about 75% full of shit. Airplane companies need to learn that they just can’t rely on passengers for anything, and certainly not as a reliable source of information on who might be a terrorist or not.
     Honestly, if this really is how airports are running their security — relying on frightened, nervous, stupid customers who are scared of anything more brown than a fake n’ bake barfly — then to hell with it, I’ll take the extra time off and take a train out to Oregon. I can’t be on a plane flown by people that dumb.

     (Photo credit: Guido.)

Welcome to 2009. We’ve got eighteen days left of the Bush administration, we’re still at war, the economy is still in the shitter, and the Middle East is having a giant Royal Rumble. The Bush Administration is scrambling to pass the usual last volley of legislation clusterfucking the Constitution before we throw their asses out, India and Pakistan might throw down, and Israel is whupping the tar out of Hamas.
     Honestly, I really try not to watch the news anymore. I don’t have any health care, and I don’t want to end up at the doctor for migraines and ulcers, or the dentist for grinding my teeth to dust.
     I’ve given up on New Year’s resolutions, but I do have some goals:

1. School: I just finished applying online at the local community college for the RN degree. I was thinking of going LPN, then moving up to RN if I liked it, but then thought to myself, why screw around? I made the nurse decision for the money, not because I really loved the idea of nursing. I’m aiming for the Winter semester, but it won’t break my heart if I have to wait until Spring. I’m also trying to sign up for a two-week CNA course, but no one’s answering the phones. Damned holidays.
2. The Book: We’re planning on having a finished first draft by May or so, and at the rate we’re going, we’ll make it easily. We’re shooting for a submission-ready draft by the end of 2009, and I think we’ll make that, too.

     In addition, I need to cut my smoking back. I shot up to two packs a day during the divorce hassles, and evened out around a pack and a half. That’s no good. I need to get more exercise, and eat better, too. Since I’ve been on my own, all my good eating habits have gone right out the window. I’m too lazy to cook properly, apparently. So those sit on the list of Things I Really Ought To Do.
     The Squatch and I are also planning a trip out to Oregon to visit MrJames this spring, and I’m excited about that. I’ve never been to Oregon — or hell, even that far from Michigan. And I haven’t seen MrJames in — what? Going on three years?
     Personally, it looks like I’ve got a good year lined up ahead of me. About damn time.

So, yesterday, I bought a new car. I’ve been needing one pretty bad. To give you an idea, we had redubbed the van “The Failmobile”. It was a twelve-year-old Voyager on its third transmission, with umpteen billion miles, and had picked up the annoying habit of making new, alarming noises every time I fired it up. I believe it was doing this just to stress me out.
     I knew I wanted a little car — I like the little rollerskate cars. Don’t ask me why, I just do. Every car company makes the bitty econo-car right now — the Chevy Aveo, Ford’s got one, the Focus, maybe, Kia’s got those cute little Rios, and so forth. I asked knowledgeable people, and narrowed it down to either Honda or Toyota. Yesterday, my mother and I went to the local Toyota dealership to look at their Yaris. We’d been given the warning by my Dad, of course. “Don’t buy the first thing you see.”
     So, of course . . .
     I can hardly be blamed. They are the cutest little cars, seriously. And despite that they look so teeny, they’re quite roomy on the inside. The drive is nice and smooth for a little car, and they turn and park on a dime. Toyota’s reputation for reliability is stellar, and the folks at the local dealership were nice as hell, gave us a tour of their new lot, extolled the virtues of joining the Toyota family, and so forth. (One of the virtues includes a perk where, when you need basic maintenance, like oil changes, they come and collect your car, drive it off, service it, and bring it back to you, no extra charge. How awesome is that?)
     I, of course, am thrilled. I’ve never owned a new car before. I was doing the happy new car dance all day yesterday. I’ve owned a few nice cars (a lot more shitty ones), and a couple of newer used cars, but never one that was brand new all for me. It’s pretty frickin’ cool, let me tell you.
     I consider this the first step on a new road. I’ve got a lot of business to do in the next few weeks, some of which includes taking my CNA course this January, then on to a new job. I’m enrolling in college, for nursing, hopefully to begin in the spring semester. That’ll take some time, but at the end, I’ll have an actual skill which I can turn into an actual career. No more nametag-jobs. The book proceeds fantastically, and the further we go on it, the better it gets. For the first time in a long time, things are looking up. It’s a good feeling.

     (Photo credit: CarBodyDesign.com.)

All the writing advice in the world tells you that first, you write your rough draft, and then you go back and revise. Pfft, we say. Besides, MrJames and I figure if we get the framework laid out properly, first, the rest of the stroy will flow that much more easily. So, we’ve spent a lot of the last couple of weeks poking at chapters One through Three, getting them the way we want. We’ve finally got three chapters we can live with (although, admittedly, I’m still dickering with One). Here they are:

• Chapter One
• Chapter Two
• Chapter Three

     We expect to have Chapter Four done and posted fairly soon, and I swear, this weekend, I’ll start on Five. Maybe. Right. In the meantime, enjoy a great video — Voltaire’s When You’re Evil.

Quiet around here, ain’t it? I blame Christmas. It’s always a busy time of the year for me, and this year, even more so, but for happy reasons. I’m about to bolt out the door and embark on a mad scramble to complete my Christmas shopping and many errands. Wish me luck. Actually — wish the other people out there luck. They’re going to be dealing with a frustrated, impatient Java who hates traffic, shopping, and people. Heh. In the mean time, enjoy a video.

After taking a few deep breaths, I managed to get myself together again. Freaking out wouldn’t solve anything. My eyes hurt like hell, but I managed to find my nifty sunglasses without stepping on them, so hey, things were already looking up. The alleged Dmitri was a problem, and that was a fact, but there wasn’t much I could do about that right now.
     Come to think about it, even if he knew my whole name, not just the first bit, “Alice,” that may or not do him much good. I’d been living with my shadowy partner for so long, that we’d more or less become one. One person? One entity? Even I didn’t know its true name, and without it, I doubted that Dmitri could do much to bind me.
     The shadow was still feeding me the layout of the street, so I could feel my purse lying on the street under another parked car. I fished it out, blinking as my vision began to return. Normally I’m a big fan of taking the problem to the troublemakers, but since I had no clue how to track down Dmitri just now, I’d settle the issues already in front of me. I rummaged around, looking for my cell phone, only to remember that I’d left it in my jacket pocket. Glory was in there, though, and she pinched my fingers playfully while I was searching.
     I pulled her out, and set her down on the roof of the Russian’s SUV. She crawled around a bit, probably not liking how cold the metal was at the moment. Technically, Glory’s an artifact. Not one of mine, since sadly I’m just not that good. She’s a Hand of Glory, and they’re a stone bitch to make. She showed up on the doorstep a few years ago, and since she didn’t eat much and didn’t take up much room, Gene kindly let me keep her. A thousand and one uses, depending on which source material you want to believe. Traditionally, a Hand of Glory is made by severing the hand of a man hanged for murder. Glory, though, is definitely a woman’s hand. Tonight she was sporting a black lace fingerless glove and a set of press-on nails with a coat of slut-red nail polish. Her version of lingerie, I guess. She’d followed me into the bedroom when I was getting dressed for my date tonight, and she wanted to get prettied up, too. Her flesh is dried and leathery, not much to be done about that, though I have tried a few moisturizing creams. They don’t seem to do much, though she seems to enjoy having them rubbed on. Her wrist ends in a slightly ragged stump, in which a few gold and copper wires can be seen. I’d love to take her apart and see what makes her tick, so to speak, but I’ve kind of grown attached to her.
     Read More >>

Everyone else is linking to it, and I hate missing out, so go check this out: Prop 8: The Musical. It features Jack Black and an all-star cast. It’s pretty cute. I’d embed the video, but apparently my site hates the Funny or Die video format. Ah well.
     And while I’m at it, check out this article from CNN.com: Missing Atheist Sign Found In Washington State. I’m not positive, but I believe the “Nativity scene” they’re referring to in the article is the display that includes representations of several religions. There’s some Jewish stuff and Kwanzaa stuff and so forth, if this is the thing I read about the other day. Well, along side all the religious messages, some group of atheists came along and put up their sign, too, a nice plaque which reads “At this season of the winter solstice, may reason prevail. There are no gods, no devils, no angels, no heaven or hell. There is only our natural world. Religion is but myth and superstition that hardens hearts and enslaves minds.”
     My quibble here isn’t with the fact that the sign was swiped, or that the display exists at all (although I think it’s cool the multi-faith display is put up), but with the article itself. On my Google news page, the article is titled “Atheists Take Aim at Christmas” — click the little picture for a bigger look at that. Then in the first line of the article, we get “An atheist sign criticizing Christianity that was erected alongside a Nativity scene was taken from the Legislative Building in Olympia, Washington, on Friday and later found in a ditch.”
     Um. Now, I quoted the plaque. If you don’t believe me, you can click through to the article, and see a picture of the actual plaque. Where, exactly, does the plaque mention Christianity? It says “religion”. Jews and Muslims have angels and devils and heaven and hell, also. Plaque doesn’t mention Santa or Christmas trees, or anything that even vaguely be construed as meaning strictly “Christianity”. But, according to CNN, at least, the plaque is a direct assault in the Christians.
     I blame Lou Dobbs. CNN wasn’t so bad back before that nutter got popular by stealing Bill O’Reilly’s schtick.
     And while I’m at it, I don’t think we’re allowed to do this: Pentagon Plans to Station 20,000 Troops for ‘Domestic Security’.

     The US Department of Defense plans to deploy 20,000 troops nationwide by 2011 to help state and local officials respond to terror or nuclear attacks and emergencies, The Washington Post said Monday.
     Citing Pentagon officials, the newspaper said the plan calls for three rapid-reaction forces.
     The first 4,700-strong unit, built around an active-duty combat brigade, is based at Fort Stewart, Georgia, and is already available for deployment, according to General Victor Renuart, commander of the US Northern Command, it said.

     I’m pretty fucking positive that we aren’t allowed to use our military in this fashion without their being some fairly special circumstances, like, say, an official declaration of “Martial Law”. Without that, the military is pretty much to bugger along off and stay out of “policing” type activities.

This time last year, I was thinking of leaving my husband. I remember thinking, “I’m just going to get through Christmas, and then I’m out of here.” You know, so as not to ruin the holidays for everyone. After nearly a year of quiet rumination on the subject, I can tell you when the marriage ended. I can tell you the exact moment.
     Two and a half years ago, the ex-husband invited one of his internet whores to move in — long-time readers may recall this, because I was frothing mad at the time. There’s some back-story involved — the ex-husband had taken up cybering in some RP-based chatroom he was spending literally endless hours in, where he met this particular whore, and the gal spun him a sob-story, so he charged down to Ohio to “rescue” her from her largely spurious circumstances. He returned with both the gal and Doc Celestine. (Since I couldn’t stop him from “rescuing” his internet whore, I demanded he bring the Doc back with him “for a visit”. Really, I wanted to make sure the ex wasn’t alone with the gal, so she couldn’t claim rape or something after the fact.)
     She arrived on a Thursday. Friday, our then-roomie MrJames, the Doc, and the gal went to the bar MrJames worked at, so the ex and I could have some “alone time”. (Presumably, the thought here was to provide themselves with plausible deniability so that when they returned, and the ex was “missing”, they wouldn’t go to jail with me. ) At the bar, MrJames and the Doc had a good time, and the gal proceeded to get sloshed. (I determined later that the gal was a closet drunk.) MrJames and the Doc discussed many things, including my ex, and the gal, sloshed out of her fucking mind and too dumb to understand words over two syllables even when she was sober, took the conversation back to my ex, and presented it as “his friends trash-talking and plotting against him”.
     We all know my feelings about drama. I hate it. I go to great lengths to avoid it. I detest people who can’t live without stirring it up. And this gal wanders into my home and proceeds directly to stirring shit amongst my then-husband and two of my best friends. You can imagine how well that went over for me.
      Read the rest of this entry »

Hey, guess what? We’re in a recession! Thanks for paying attention out there, guys. I’m glad you finally noticed. From Bloomberg: “The U.S. economy entered a recession a year ago this month, the panel that dates American business cycles said today, making this contraction already the longest since 1982. The declaration was made by a committee of the National Bureau of Economic Research, a private, nonprofit group of economists based in Cambridge, Massachusetts. The last time the U.S. was in a recession was from March through November 2001, according to NBER.”
     They claim the recession started in 2007 — I don’t about the rest of y’all, but my finances have been sucking for just a little longer than that. Seriously. Do these people just not pay any attention? I wonder what it’s like to have so much money and so much going for you that you just fail to notice that everyone else is eating Ramen and happy to scrape together $20 to spend on Christmas. That must be an amazing way to live.
     In other news, the restaurant was empty except for a couple of the counter regulars when CNN “announced” the recession yesterday. I had stopped by the TV and was watching. I think it was Rick Sanchez made the first “announcement” that I heard. My jaw dropped and I exclaimed, out loud, “Well, no fucking shit! Thanks for tuning in!”
     The counter guys rolled. I win.