Read more here.
Chesterton was right, “The issue is now clear. It is between light and darkness and everyone must choose his side.”
Read more here.
Chesterton was right, “The issue is now clear. It is between light and darkness and everyone must choose his side.”
March 27, 2013 at 12:41 pm (It's all about me Me ME)
The promise at the bottom. Ahem. I have a note from my mother. Or my doctor. Or Charlie. Yeah, Charlie. I’ll blame it all on Charlie.
Barring more unforeseen gastric complications, I should be at the Peach Pundit Roadshow.
On that happy bloggiversary day, I had every intent of resuming the regular venting of galatic snark. But first, I had to go to a conference for work in the frozen hinterlands to the North. Wait, the conference was in the frozen hinterlands, my work wasn’t. It’s in Atlanta. Where, at least on the day I left, it was warmer than the aforementioned frozen hinterlands. Anyway…after a rather bumpy landing, arrived at the hotel. Got checked in, registered, hit the Starbucks (thank you JW Marriott, for having a Starbucks in the upstairs lobby adjoining the hamster trail to the convention center. It keep me alive for 3 days.)
The first night was an Irish celebration, since the conference started on St. Patrick’s Day. The food was ok, mostly convention food pretending to be Irish food, but it was free and at least some of it was hot. There were Irish dancers and two stages worth of Irish music. Visited with co-workers and friends that had moved on to other colleges. Nothing out of the ordinary.
Then the fun began. Around 2:30, the vomiting started and continued until I thought the only thing left of my body was my toenails. After a few minutes of fitful sleep, I dragged myself up, attempted to shower, and walked very slowly towards the convention center, which was supposedly serving breakfast. The thought of a chafing dish convention food breakfast just made me heave. I shuffled along, and there, like the sun rising over the ridge, was my old friend Starbucks. After an iced green tea and a toasted plain english muffin, I mustered the courage to shuffle further down the hamster trail to the convention center. The rest of the day consisted of one very expensive Coke and a packaged “gluten-free” lunch that would have made my elementary lunch lady proud. I got maybe two of the noodles from the mystery pasta dish down and a couple of slivers of fruit. Saved the rock-hard sugar cookies for later. During the next break, I snagged a banana from the snack table. The rest was, shall we say, unappealing.
Then horrors of horrors, someone suggested our group go out to dinner. I had hoped to slither back to the room and pray for God to just take me home. But no…. The powers that be settled on the Weber Grill Restaurant. After a invigorating dash through around 20 degrees of wind chill, we arrived. Don’t get me wrong. Under normal circumstances, this is the type of restaurant I really dig. Leave those fruffy-indy-fusion-got-my-own-tv-show restaurants to the foodies, give me a good steakhouse and I’m a happy girl. Except for that night. Every smell tortured my stomach, just daring it to heave the day’s meager fare into my boss’ lap. I ordered grilled chicken with sauteed spinach and garlic mashed potatoes. Working with a normal appetite, my meal would have been delicious. As things stood, I muscled through and managed to eat about half the chicken, two bites of the spinach and about half the potatoes. After another invigorating walk in the frigid air (ice crystals were hitting my face!), the second night of fun began.
No projectile ejections that night, but the gas pains were unbearable. I felt like John Hurt in the cantina on the Nostromo, waiting for his little alien to explode from his gut. After another long and uncomfortable night, I soldiered up the morning and staggered to my old friend. Iced green tea and a toasted bagel this time, since some horrible, selfish and unthinking person had bought the last of the english muffins. Lunch was better, grilled chicken caesar salad and palatable cookie. Okay. Maybe I will survive this after all. More sessions, more stomach grumblings. There was a party the final night, with Indy cars and several bands. The only food I could stomach was the nachos. After about an hour, I excused myself for an early night. Then the fun began again.
Only this time, it was the other end. Dear Lord in Heaven. I really thought it was my last night on Earth.
The next day, when I checked out of the hotel and bought a package of the world’s most expensive Imodium, the desk clerk took pity on me and gave me a Gatorade. I must have looked pretty rough. Starbucks, my old friend. Iced green tea and an attempt at a breakfast sandwich. (Aside: Saw the UGA Women’s Swim & Diving Team in the lobby. Later that week, they won the NCAA Championship. Go Dawgs!) Later, at the airport, the cafe cheeseburger with sauteed green beans wasn’t bad, and seemed to settle in with little trouble. But as I waited on the plane, the old gas pains returned. No explosive excitement, thank heavens, but the pain was intense. While on the plane, when folks would look around (ick! who did it?), I would look askance at the poor fella sitting next to me. He had no idea what was going on.
Plane landed, shuttle to the park and ride, the drive home – don’t remember a bit of it. I fell into my bed, rejoicing that I had survived.
That was last Wednesday. I still don’t feel like eating. It was two days before I could face the laundry, which though rinsed out, were tightly wrapped and still in the suitcase.
And that, my friends, is the story of My Most Excellent Unadventure in Indianapolis.
March 14, 2013 at 7:41 am (It's all about me Me ME)
Today is this little blog’s birthday. It’s been a tad neglected of late, thanks to other gigs, general malaise and that little black cloud that follows me around every where I go. Why I’m sorry, Mr. Detective Man, to call again, but have you found our stolen truck? Are you even looking? Why thank you, Mr. Dentist Man, I’d love to … Why thank you, Mr. Plumber Man, I’d just love to … Why thank, Mr. Obama Man, go ahead and take that extra $150 out of my check. It didn’t go far enough anyway, so how can I miss even more?
Ahem. Sorry. Like I said little black cloud.
But this little blog has been the bright spot in some people’s days and I have been remiss these last few weeks in not posting my snark to the masses, mostly because things suck right now, but I think I’ve covered that already.
Seven years. Most cars/marriages/fruit cakes don’t last that long. If you’re new to this dark part of the forest, you can check out the one post that started it all, plus all six of the previous anniversary posts – The First, Year One, Two, Three, Four, Five, and Six.
Many, many things have happened this past year, most of them bad, and not all of them to me. Sometimes I wonder if this constant queasy feeling in my gut is how my parents felt during the Cuban Missile Crisis.
The black cloud hasn’t enveloped everything yet – I’m grateful we’re still in our home, I still have my job, my children are happily (if not frugally) ensconced in their respective schools, my husband hasn’t left me. Those are good things. As a believer, I know that God uses all things to His good. I just can’t help but ask Him, “How much deeper does this hole go?”
America has gone to hell in a handbasket since last year’s post. Instead of sending letters to our representatives, that aren’t read by them themselves, but by interns, if they are read at all, I’d like to suggest we all send them a little game. A little interactive game. You know, just to let them know we’re thinking of them. And since they like to play games so much, they should really enjoy this one. So would we.
What do you think?
Oh, and check back often. I plan to do better, I promise.
February 12, 2013 at 1:00 pm (What tha..?)
February 11, 2013 at 1:07 pm (Politics)
After three weeks of dealing with identity theft, I was hoping for a quiet February.
Not so fast say the muses of misery:
GradSchoolGirl is now buried in snow. Last we heard from her, she still had power, but no internet. Being the hot house flower she is, she is NOT enjoying the winter wonderland.
My husband’s truck was stolen Thursday night from a church parking lot, while he was away singing with his men’s group in South Georgia. It was an old truck, yes, but it was comfortable and dependable. And loan-free.
Saturday I missed our county’s GOP Mass Precinct meeting due a funeral in South Carolina. Seems petty old white men still rule the roost in the GOP and Georgia is the lesser for it.
Wow. Just wow. I can’t wait to see what the rest of February brings. God must have something big in store for us!
February 5, 2013 at 3:09 pm (Hands Off My Healthcare)
Yeah, that’s what he said.
But according to information released today by the Congressional Budget Office:
President Obama’s health care law will push 7 million people out of their job-based insurance coverage — nearly twice the previous estimate, according to the latest estimates from the Congressional Budget Office released Tuesday.
CBO said that this year’s tax cuts have changed the incentives for businesses and made it less attractive to pay for insurance, meaning fewer will decide to do so. Instead, they’ll choose to pay a penalty to the government, totaling $13 billion in higher fees over the next decade.
Good times. Good times.
February 4, 2013 at 6:03 pm (And now for something completely different, History Doesn't Lie - You Just Don't Understand It)
Or as they call them across the pond, “Car Parks.”
Archeologists were digging up just such a car park in Leicester, long believed to be site of the long lost Grey Friars church, when their excavations uncovered a human skeleton with curiously twisted spine.
The bones of Richard III (the last Plantagenet king of England) which were unearthed in that excavation a few months ago have been verified by DNA testing. Believe it or not, over 500 years later, a distant descendent was found in Canada and appropriately swabbed. Imagine HIS surprise at having English royalty in his family tree!
The king died a gruesome death. They didn’t have forensics back in 1485:
Richard died at Bosworth on 22 August 1485, the last English king to fall in battle, and the researchers revealed how for the first time. There was an audible intake of breath as a slide came up showing the base of his skull sliced off by one terrible blow, believed to be from a halberd, a fearsome medieval battle weapon with a razor-sharp iron axe blade weighing about two kilos, mounted on a wooden pole, which was swung at Richard at very close range. The blade probably penetrated several centimetres into his brain and, said the human bones expert Jo Appleby, he would have been unconscious at once and dead almost as soon.
The injury appears to confirm contemporary accounts that he died in close combat in the thick of the battle and unhorsed – as in the great despairing cry Shakespeare gives him: “A horse! A horse! My kingdom for a horse!”
Another sword slash, which also went through the bone and into the brain, would also have proved fatal. But many of the other injuries were after death, suggesting a gruesome ritual on the battlefield and as the king’s body was brought back to Leicester, as he was stripped, mocked and mutilated – which would have revealed for the first time to any but his closest intimates the twisted back, a condition from an unknown cause, which began to contort his body from the age of about 10. By the time he died he would have stood inches shorter than his true height of 5′ 8″, tall for a medieval man. The bones were those of an unusually slight, delicately built man – Appleby described him as having an “almost feminine” build – which also matches contemporary descriptions.
One terrible injury, a stab through the right buttock and into his pelvis, was certainly after death, and could not have happened when his lower body was protected by armour. It suggests the story that his naked corpse was brought back slung over the pommel of a horse, mocked and abused all the way, was true. Bob Savage, a medieval arms expert from the Royal Armouries who helped identify the wounds, said it was probably not a war weapon, but the sort of sharp knife or dagger any workman might have carried.
Plans are to rebury his remains at in a new tomb nearby Leicester Cathedral.
Now if they could only find the bones of those two little princes…
January 31, 2013 at 12:31 pm (Just for Fun)
You can thank me later.
(h/t The Daily Gator)
The feds may not have provided an estimate of the cost of operating an exchange, but several other experts have. The results are eye-popping. According to Maryland’s Joint Committee on Health Benefit Exchange Financing, administrative costs alone will run the state an astounding $201 per person in 2015.
The auditing firm KPMG recently found that Ohio can expect to spend $63 million to set up its exchange and another $43 million each year to run it.
That’s not to mention the many logistical challenges inherent in serving the 9 million Americans expected to take part in the exchanges in 2014. States will need to provide customer service call centers, “navigators” to encourage enrollment, and elaborate information technology systems to coordinate data among the state, federal, and private groups involved in selling coverage.
Even if the feds and the states manage to surpass these hurdles, the new marketplaces are unlikely to fulfill one of their top promises — lowering premiums.
Read the whole thing. Thank Heaven that Georgia passed on this monstrosity.
UPDATE: Some families will be priced out of the market due to the government’s definition of “afforability.” Honestly, folks, I couldn’t make this stuff up if I tried!
January 30, 2013 at 1:39 pm (It's all about me Me ME)
Yesterday was my birthday. Pretty low key for the most part, until I got the happy voicemail that a second card of mine had been compromised.
Back track two weeks. Before GradSchoolGirl returned to school, I took a day off and we happily tripped off on what we like to call a ‘Yarn Safari.’ Our destination was Macon and Creative Yarns, one of the bestest yarn shops in GA. While we were traipsing around Bibb County, American Express called, wanting to know if I’d ordered almost $700 of cell phones from a Verizon website. I said, ‘Noooooo…..Whhhhaaaaa…..” And thus that merry adventure began and harshed my yarn buzz considerably.
Zoom back to yesterday. The call yesterday was more disturbing in that is was my debit card. While I was at work, someone was using my number to fill up their car at a truck stop in Florida. So I spent the better part of the day on the phone with the VISA people and the bank people and then a lovely visit from our local deputy so I could file a police report.
I highly suspect the source of the theft is our local fried chicken joint. That’s pretty much the only spot I’ve used both cards. I won’t stop eating there, I’ll just be paying with cash from now on.
Which brings me to today. After the pall that was cast on my meager birthday celebrations (#thanksAlotObama), today I get to be pummeled with severe weather.
Sheesh. I need a break already.
January 28, 2013 at 7:30 pm (Jedi Musings)
This pretty much needs to be a PSA for the whole country!
In the PSA, Sheriff David Clarke says, “With officers laid off and furloughed, simply calling 911 and waiting is no longer your best option. You could beg for mercy from a violent criminal, hide under the bed, or you can fight back. But are you prepared?”
“You have a duty to protect yourself and your family. We’re partners now. Can I count on you?”
Yes sir, you sure can.
January 24, 2013 at 6:31 pm (America Lost, History Doesn't Lie - You Just Don't Understand It, Hope and Sadness, Stuff I'm tired of)
Well, the hubs is on his flight home. GradSchoolGirl is re-esconced in the frozen hinterlands of the north, in a new situation that has heat but no bugs or rats or noisy housemates. WeeHighlander is back at his school as well, with multiple promises to keep this coming semester substantially less festive than the last.
Monday was MLK day. This week I had the same discussion with my son and a co-worker (at different times) about how Dr. King would probably be ashamed of how his dream had been implemented over the last decade or so. How not only the country, but the states, the cities and towns, and even the workplace seems so polarized by race. Did Dr. King mean it when said that a person should be judged by the content of their character, not the color of their skin? He wanted, at least in my feeble understanding, for all to be equal and share the fruits of that equality. Now, it seems that anything but that.
Then Gerard said it better, as he always does:
Reflecting on The Day … I have to say that I’m sticking with that rueful but passing smirk as I consider the distance we’ve come since King’s speech at the Lincoln Memorial 50 years ago in 1963. Then we struggled, with men like King, to come together as a people, to move beyond our past, to be one nation. Now, under the cynical manipulation and malicious policies of one who would cast himself as the inheritor of the King mantle, we find the current occupant of the White House doing his best, day after day, to drive the races apart once again.
How strange that someone who has attained the presidency in this day and age should not only hate citizens because of the color of their skin and the cut of their bitter and clinging class, but be lauded for it. Stranger still that he should be half-black and be inaugurated on the day set aside to honor Martin Luther King. Once I would have remembered and honored this day and felt we were at last getting beyond race hate in America. When exactly that was I now forget. I guess we’ve still a reckoning ahead of us.
RIP Dr. King. I sincerely hope you’re not spinning in your grave.
January 18, 2013 at 7:21 am (Politics)
You know what the cliche says. Now head over to Right Wing News and see John’s photo essay…for the children, of course.
What has happened to the deliberative process in this country? Public debate in Washington has deteriorated into Sesame Street sing-a-longs. We are already inundated with logical fallacies: argumentum ad populum (it’s popular, therefore it’s true); argumentum ad nauseam (if you repeat it often enough, it’ll become truth); argumentum ad hominem (sabotage the person, sabotage the truth); and argumentum ad verecundiam (if my favorite authority says it’s true, it’s true).
To that list we can now add “argumentum ad filium”: If politicians appeal to the children, it’s unassailably good and true. The Obama White House has shamelessly employed this kiddie human shield strategy at every turn to blunt substantive criticism and dissent.