They Cancelled Eli Stone? Crap!

Last month, ABC announced the cancellation of three shows. Okay, I only really knew one of the shows – Eli Stone – but that was one of my favorite shows on television. ABC is not the most popular television station (I think that is CBS), so I don't get why they would cancel their shows. Oh, and point of fact, they did not cancel as they really did not re-order shows. It turns out to be the same thing, though.

ABC has canceled a bunch of shows. Let's see: Pushing Daisies, Dirty Sexy Money, Eli Stone, Lipstick Jungle, Crusoe and My Own Worst Enemy. The only one I really care about is Eli Stone. But still, it appears that other than CBS, most networks are cancelling everything. Maybe it is because I don't watch much television, but it seems weird to have this many shows

I mean, it is not like it is an episode of Room Raiders.

Now there is this other show I have found – Chuck. Chuck is about a computer brained geeky guy who sort of because of bad/dumb luck, becomes a quasi-spy. My taste always kills good television. Zachary Levi and Yvonne Strahovski – sorry, but I think you need to start updating your resumes.

Just a short rant. Thanks for listening.

Leesa's Mailbag: Issue 5

Dear Leesa,

I was wondering what you would suggest for someone looking to purchase an interesting gift this year that does not involve batteries?

Leesa's Answer: Perhaps you could order a photography book. Perhaps a book that focuses on Polaroid photography. With the economy and everyone thinking about how tight things are, perhaps a book that is shows the wonderful world of Polaroids. Maybe it will remind us of how things were in the late 1970s, the last time I remember when things seemed bleak.

Dear Leesa,

Why are you such a whore? Why do you write such slutty things?

Sign Me,
Puritan in Peoria

Leesa's Answer: At first, I was going to defend my writing, but that's not really objective. Then I remember reading a post by A Little Off Kilter that talked of a ratings site where you can see what your blog would rate. Sort of like the motion picture industry. Actually, I think the people (a dating site) who created it might have some copyright infringement, but I don't really want to go there. I ran my site through, and I got a rating of R. And the blog who recommended it got a worse rating (NC-17) than me. I mean, I write about oddly shaped cum stains. And I have a stalker who basically says I am some sort of sperm fiend.

I don't know why I write such slutty things. But according to the site, they are not as slutty as they could be.

Dear Leesa,

What was the most interesting thing you thought today?

Sincerely,
A Friend

Leesa's Answer: Well, today is not over, and I hope I think of more interesting things, but it occured to me that it is a pity that no one really famous died on the day I was born. I was looking at a quiz here that tells you who died on your birthday. I mean, Austrian writers and Ugandian bicyclists are mentioned, so I think the list is fairly complete. No deaths of importance on my birthday. Pity. I guess.

---

Follow My Blog
Google/Blogger has a relatively new widget for following other bloggers. They wrote about it in August, actually, but I am sure many of us don't read "The Official Blogger Buzz." Whether you think of the follower widget as a way to stalk people, show your support to other bloggers or just a way to be part of a croud, please add me as one of the blogs you follow. It might not make you feel better, but it will make me feel better.

Write Me
Please contribute to the questions asked on "Leesa's Mailbag." Over the last few years, people have emailed me with questions, and I have answered them on an individual basis. Now, I think I will answer them on a blog entry. I will do it on Fridays when I have enough questions to cobble together a post. Sort of an Ann Landers with attitude. Just write to the following email address:

Also, let me know if you want to be acknowledged or anonymous. Makes no difference to me. For those who use the comments section to ask a question, I will assume those are public posts.

Amy's Secret

The blue of the television set bathed the hotel room walls.

If anyone were to peer inside to see what was on the screen, one would see three well-hung men slowly stroking their cocks. The men were standing around, apparently in some porn plot where they were racing to see who could cum first. The men were laughing, stroking, and then if you gazed at the bed, you would have seen a young production manager fingering herself, amazed at the beefy men in the video.

Twenty minutes later, after each of the men messily and she came gloriously, she finished getting ready for her date. She picked up her cell phone on the way out the door, but it started ringing right before she began to dial. It was her boss.

"Hi, Love," she answered the phone, "How are you this evening?"

"No, she answers, "I am on my way out actually."

She debates whether to stay in her hotel room or go down the hall to the elevator. She knew the conversation might get a tad spicy. She is late for her date, and decides to go out. Busy girl, I know, but this is Amy's life.

The hall is empty, but if people were in the hall, they would hear Amy talking about servicing her boss in his office.

"Oh, yes, I would sit down on your desk, parting my legs, showing you my forbidden pussy. I would ask you if my pussy is the prettiest pussy you have seen."

Amy entered the elevator and continued talking, "Tell me again, I have a prettier pussy than your wife."

Amy looked up and notice she was sharing the elevator with someone else.

She cupped the cell phone with her right hand and said, "Sorry."

The man chucked and said, "Guess I am missing out. If you like, I could tell you how it compares to those I have seen."

Amy whispered that she needed to go, laughed after hanging up and turned beet red.

"Sorry, just a game I am playing with a friend."

They both exit the elevator on the first floor, and Amy heads to the entrance of the hotel to catch a taxi. She was going to get a drink at the bar before leaving, but she did not want to be followed by the elevator friend. She did not have time for him, and she figured she would just be fighting off his advances. He was handsome, but not her type.

The next couple of hours were filled with forgettable experiences. She had met her lover and had dinner together. Through dinner and drinks, she was remembering the porno, thinking about the men, picturing their semen. She was also remembering her boss, the sex chat on the phone, and also remembering his male member. She would not allow him to enter her pussy, but that did not stop her from giving him blowjobs at work. She laughed when she remembered one of her father's suggestions: "Get paid for what you love." Well, she loved everything to do with blowjobs. Good advice, Dad.

Amy slowly came back into the present, started noticing her lover, wondering where they would next have sex. She wanted sex immediately, but because of her partner's OCD, she knew that she could never get her lover to agree to a bathroom fuck.

Between bites of manicotti, Amy gazed into her lover's dark brown eyes, and said, "You are the only woman for me."

What she did not say that evening was that there was room in her life, in her pants and in her bed for many, many cocks. But as long as the cocks did not invade her womanhood, she considered herself 100% lesbian. Oh, and 100% faithful.

Christmas Perspective

Picture this. A 12-year-old girl in a floral flannel nightdress. She is listening to a record player – a Christmas album – as she gazes dreamily at the family Christmas tree.

Then the song comes on the radio – "I saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus". And I really listened to the words, words that disturbed me because of my belief in Santa Claus. In today's terms, I was really bothered with Santa hooking up with my mother, a mother who I was not sure was sexually active. I have heard many people disclose that they caught their parents "in the act." I never did. Thanks goodness, I might add. They kissed and hugged; that was the extent to what I was exposed to.

And at the time, I was more concerned that a saintly figure would be forcing himself on my mother. Santa was a trusted figure when I was a child. But through a child's eyes, so was the president. Of course, the president to me was very close to the no-name president in "Frosty the Snowman." Someone who wore a suit and we through confetti at. Actually, that sounds a little like Obama.

I digress.

I still believe in Santa Claus. Those who don't believe miss the magic in Christmas. But now the song seems more endearing. So a song I once hated I see in a different light.

Perhaps we would lead richer lives if we looked at our world view from another's perspective. Just a suggestion this holiday season.

"The 12 Days of Christmas" Debunked

As a Catholic girl, I have heard the following explanation of the origins of "The 12 Days of Christmas". There are other origins also, none of which can be proven; I like to believe this one as it places Catholics in a positive light, but it is really not based in reality at all.

I get an email from a fellow Catholic (and a different one at that) probably two or three times over Christmas. But after reading what Snopes has to say on the subject, it seems a bit more like those Arab friends needing to get money out of the country.

"The Twelve Days of Christmas" was written in England as one of the "catechism songs" to help young Catholics learn the basics of their faith. In short, it was a coded-message, a memory aid. Since the song sounded like rhyming nonsense, young Catholics could sing the song without fear of imprisonment. The authorities would not know that it was a religious song.

"The 12 Days of Christmas" is in a sense an allegory. Each of the items in the song represents something significant to the teachings of the Catholic faith. The hidden meaning of each gift was designed to help Catholic children learn their faith. The better acquainted one is with the Bible, the more these interpretations have significance.

The song goes, "On the first day of Christmas my true love gave to me…"

The "true love" mentioned in the song doesn’t refer to an earthly suitor, but it refers to God Himself. The "me" who receives the presents refers to every baptized person. i.e. the Church.

1st Day: The partridge in a pear tree is Christ Jesus upon the Cross. In the song, Christ is symbolically presented as a mother partridge because she would feign injury to decoy a predator away from her nestlings. She was even willing to die for them. The tree is the symbol of the fall of the human race through the sin of Adam and Eve. It is also the symbol of its redemption by Jesus Christ on the tree of the Cross.
2nd Day: The "two turtle doves" refers to the Old and New Testaments.
3rd Day: The "three French hens" stand for faith, hope and love—the three gifts of the Spirit that abide (1 Corinthians 13).
4th Day: The "four calling birds" refers to the four evangelists who wrote the Gospels—Matthew, Mark, Luke and John—which sing the song of salvation through Jesus Christ.
5th Day: The "five golden rings" represents the first five books of the Bible, also called the Jewish Torah: Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus, Numbers and Deuteronomy.
6th Day: The "six geese a-laying" is the six days of creation.
7th Day: The "seven swans a-swimming" refers to the seven gifts of the Holy Spirit: wisdom, understanding, counsel, fortitude, knowledge, piety and fear of the Lord.
8th Day: The "eight maids a milking " reminded children of the eight beatitudes listed in the Sermon on the Mount.
9th Day: The "nine ladies dancing" were the nine fruits of the Holy Spirit found in Galatians 5:22-23: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self control.
10th Day: The "ten lords a-leaping" represents the Ten Commandments
11th Day: The "eleven pipers piping" refers to the eleven faithful apostles.
12th Day: The ‘twelve drummers drumming" were the twelve points of belief expressed in the Apostles’ Creed: belief in God the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit, that Jesus Christ was born of the Virgin Mary, made man, crucified, died and arose on the third day, that he sits at the right hand of the father and will come again, the resurrection of the dead and life everlasting.

So the next time you hear "the Twelve Days of Christmas" consider how this otherwise non-religious sounding song had its origins in keeping alive the teaching of the Catholic faith.

Tuning In

I woke up this morning and wanted to just tune out of everything digital, everything that some may consider noise (music in the background that you are not appreciating). And this little blog is noise as well. But today being Monday, I had a freakin' blog to write.

Well, my mind will be baking in the sun of some far-off island, no ear buds in my ears, just daydreaming about whatever.

Things about Christmas make me want to abandon my normal routine. I want to just bail out of work – but I really can't do it. Wouldn't feel responsible, me ditching work for an – cough – imaginary cold.

Well – cough, cough – I am going to take the day off. Sorry, I have an imaginary cold.

Leesa's Mailbag: Issue 3

Dear Leesa,

For purely experimental reasons, I was wondering if you could point me in the directions of efficient bomb-making from household items.

Anonymous
User at IP Address 213.223.67.45

Leesa's Answer: I am unable to adequately answer your question. I forwarded your request to Georgia Department of Homeland Security, PO Box 18055, Building 2, Atlanta, GA 30316-0055 days ago. I hope you still have Internet access so you can read my response.

Dear Leesa,

I have tagged you and others for "blogs I read" so I can stalk some peeps myself, however I am not able to get that little widget where their pictures show up because I have not switched to the layout version nor plan to because I don't care much for the format. It makes my blog look weird... Any tips that you can give to switch and have my blog look exactly the same?

~Deb

Leesa's Answer: Okay, I understand the question, sort of, but I am wondering how to answer it. A similar question would be "I really like my 8-track tape player and don't want to change to CD, but I want to be able to play CDs on my 8-track tape player."

And then I looked and looked and looked for the answer. Bottom line is that I now consider myself a complete moron when it comes to everything HTML, Blogspot, and so forth. I have a feeling Google/Blogger really does not want to support the "Classic" version of their product.

Dear Leesa,

You are an excellent writer. Do it for a living! Good luck!

Anonomous

Leesa's Answer: That is not a question, you moron. Oh, you like my writing. How sweet. Does a compliment from a moron count, I wonder? Probably not.

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Follow My Blog
Google/Blogger has a relatively new widget for following other bloggers. They wrote about it in August, actually, but I am sure many of us don't read "The Official Blogger Buzz." Whether you think of the follower widget as a way to stalk people, show your support to other bloggers or just a way to be part of a croud, please add me as one of the blogs you follow. It might not make you feel better, but it will make me feel better.

Write Me
Please contribute to the questions asked on "Leesa's Mailbag." Over the last few years, people have emailed me with questions, and I have answered them on an individual basis. Now, I think I will answer them on a blog entry. I will do it on Fridays when I have enough questions to cobble together a post. Sort of an Ann Landers with attitude. Just write to the following email address:

Also, let me know if you want to be acknowledged or anonymous. Makes no difference to me. For those who use the comments section to ask a question, I will assume those are public posts.

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"Chris’s presentation was very motivational. I’m ready to go for it!"

-- Vickie Butler Bindes
Quality Manager, BJ Services

This was found here.

It's the Economy Stupid

Was it Carl Marx or Bill Clinton that said, "It's the Economy Stupid"? Bill said it during the 1992 presidential election process, but what he failed to say was that American presidents don't control economic policy. Not really.

I was thinking about the economy today as I was thinking about Christmas presents this year. Our household has not felt the sting of unemployment – both my husband and I have earned more each year for the last several years. Not significantly more, but we have beaten inflation. We have a nice house, no credit card or auto debt, and we spend less than we make. So we are probably doing a bit better than the average American economically.

We are choosing to purchase fewer things for Christmas this year. We will not buy gifts for one another, and we will buy fewer gifts for acquaintances. Family will be getting gift cards this year, and one family member will be getting cash. One thing that we are doing a bit more of will be contributing to charities that help those less fortunate than us.

Each year, I give to Catholic Charities. It is a charity I believe in – because, more than anything, I believe they are ethical, they have low overhead and they spend the money how they say they spend their money. There are other charities who have been in the news for wasting money, spending money in ways not prescribed by donors, that type of thing. I don't worry about that with Catholic Charities.

This year, however, I need to find a charity that is both local and spreads Christmas joy. I need my money to go towards Christmas joy for those who are in financial need, who may be in pain or scared or both. Oh, this is a tangent I did not expect to have. I was talking about the economy.

I think my feelings – feelings that we need to hold on to a bit more money, feelings we need to cut back, feelings that by cutting back I am more in tune with others. All of these feelings will make our economy worse. Consumption in the United States is going down. That means those of us who produce CDs don't get as much money, those of us who make toothpaste don't get as much money, and our economy goes into a tailspin.

I look at my 401-K, at the mutual funds – both bond and stock funds. All have gone down. Read estate is down. Oil is even down. When I was in college, I learned about diversification. The point being that not all investments can be down. Well, years later, I look at the financial news and wonder, "Were my professors full of crap?"

Just because nothing has happened in the past does not make it impossible. Just new.

Being Brave

Recently I visited someone at the hospital. Someone from the office had a major operation and will be out of the office for weeks, so as to make their stay in the hospital more uncomfortable, we visited as an office.

Before I continue with this post, I just want to say that if I am ever in the hospital, I don't want my co-workers to visit. Imagine being cut up, drugged, in a hospital gown, and being surrounded by co-workers. That is more like a nightmare for me.

Now the co-worker will be fine, and if he wasn't, I'd be okay with that as well. Not like we are family. Cruel on some levels, but some people have to get sick, and if a co-worker does, then perhaps someone I really care about dodges the bullet this year. This does not make intellectual sense, but deep down, I sort of believe it.

Anyway, I had excused myself from the party – I was not a main character in the event, and the nurses were looking a bit peeved that we broke some kind of visiting hour rules. I sat with another hospital extra in the waiting area for the OR – and I could see a bunch of families waiting for their loved ones to come out of surgery.

I have never had to do this – wait for someone to come out of surgery. I could see worry and pain on some faces, and it occurred to me to ask my self, "What kind of moral support would I be?"

Would I be a brave wife, a brave aunt, waiting for someone to beckon me to the recovery area? I have never had to be brave, and I am not sure I would be brave when the opportunity presents itself.

Now I am planning non-red-meat meals for my hubbie, making sure he gets all his veggies and that he exercises four times per week. I do this because I really don't want to be one of those people in the waiting room, gazing in space while paging through a Cosmo. I'm not that brave.

Leesa's Mailbag: Issue 2

Dear Leesa,

Writing about what we know from our perspective can often turn out dull and boring. However, it's comfortable because we know what we're talking about. For example, writing what women want in a relationship might be right up your alley. So, in your opinion and experience, what do you think men want in a relationship outside of sex?

Knot

Leesa's Answer: This is my first question, and here is how I read it: "Instead of an easy question, I want you to answer a question that I (Knot) know more about than you do. Na, na, na, na. "

I guess it would depend on the relationship.

1. Long-term relationship. Guess it depends on the guy. Most men probably want to either copy what they grew up with (if their parents fostered a wonderful/good home life) or re-write what they grew up with. The guy wants subconsciously to be his father and wants a mother to complement him.

2. Short-term relationship. Men, even most pig-headed men, want to like the people they are screwing with. I would think a short-term squeeze would want companionship.

No deep insight here, sorry. Maybe it is all about companionship. When long-term relationships end because of a death (which one would think is very traumatic), normally the surviving spouse enters into another relationship within a year. It does not make sense to most of us, but that's what happens. I think people miss the companionship.

Dear Leesa,

I'm a new reader and saw that you had a "Dear Abby" type of experiment being tested out, so I would like to participate if you wouldn't mind.

Let me start by telling you that I have been married to my husband for 3 years now. We both have a healthy sexual appetite and fantasy plays a huge role as well. One of his favorite things to discuss during intercourse is the imagery of myself being with another man. We discuss what I'm doing with this guy as well as what my husband is doing while watching. Sometimes, when we're out at a bar, we'll spot a guy who would fit the fantasy role of our little fetish we have. Most of the time, it happens to be the bartender. We would come home with conjured up sexually explicit stories about me and this new fella to toss around while having sex together.

My question to you is, do you think that my husband may be bisexual or bi-curious because he scouts out men for me or, possibly for him? It has gotten to the point where he is completely obsessed over me being with another man, more so than he is with being with me alone.

I'm nervous we won't be able to go back to normal and dabble in our fantasies once in a while.

Sincerely,
Ophelia Beaverstein

Leesa's Answer: I little bit a fantasy is really good in a relationship. That is all I am qualified to answer.

I don't think your husband is bi-curious or bisexual. I think there are a lot of guys who want to see their spouses with other people. I don't get it, but as long as it is fantasy, perhaps it is okay as well.

A while back, I was answering questions on Yahoo Answers. I looked at some of the unanswered questions, and there was a similar question asked there. So I know your concerns are shared by others. As I am not a qualified therapist – or even a therapist at all – I cannot really give you a good answer. And a smart-ass answer seems to not take your concerns seriously.

Dear Leesa,

I have a dear cyber stalker who treks into both our blogs. She used to be an "old friend" of mine but now has resorted to obsessing over the doodling of our lil' ol' blogs.

She also insists that I'm a "tranny". I take this as a great compliment, only due to the fact that most transitioning "women" are tall and thin.

Any tips?

Sincerely,
The Hunted

Leesa's Answer: You know, I have tried all sorts of things to discourage the stalker as well. I have been nice, been mean, have ignored her. All sorts of things. Now I think I am going to be happy that I have a stalker. And a good one.

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Follow My Blog
Google/Blogger has a relatively new widget for following other bloggers. They wrote about it in August, actually, but I am sure many of us don't read "The Official Blogger Buzz." Whether you think of the follower widget as a way to stalk people, show your support to other bloggers or just a way to be part of a croud, please add me as one of the blogs you follow. It might not make you feel better, but it will make me feel better.

Write Me
Please contribute to the questions asked on "Leesa's Mailbag." Over the last few years, people have emailed me with questions, and I have answered them on an individual basis. Now, I think I will answer them on a blog entry. I will do it on Fridays when I have enough questions to cobble together a post. Sort of an Ann Landers with attitude. Just write to the following email address:

Also, let me know if you want to be acknowledged or anonymous. Makes no difference to me. For those who use the comments section to ask a question, I will assume those are public posts.

Boobies, Boobies Everywhere

I opened my browser yesterday, and what did I see? Big breasts on a side-bar. Opened another browser window, more breasts and pouty lips. A third browser bar – crap, breasts and wings. [clarification before posting: I did not see crap, it was an expression of frustration at seeing all of the breasts.]

Yes, dear readers, looks like it is almost time for the Victoria Secret annual fashion show. I have actually never seen the show, but there seems to be a lot of internet press on the subject. And it sort of pisses me off.



I remember when there were two main lingerie stores, Victoria Secret and Frederick's of Hollywood. Frederick's was the sluttier of the two stores, and VS was the classy one. I actually only purchased one item at Frederick's – black crotchless pantyhose. I used to love VS.

The only knock I had with them was that their panties were not well made. They would fall apart after a couple of hand washings. Okay, washing on the gentle cycle using Woolite, but still, they should have held up.

For a while, I was really into teddies, and VS had the cutest teddies. Now, you go into the store and they have a couple of teddies and that's all.

What I remember most from the catalog is the fantasy bra. This year, it cost $5 Million. Me and my friends would wonder who would wear such a thing. Some years, there would be a news item on who purchased the item. Most of the time, I think it was just for publicity. And VS gets its share of publicity.

This whole saturation of VS images reminds me of Coleridge's poem, The Rime of the Ancient Mariner.

Water, water, everywhere,
And all the boards did shrink;
Water, water, everywhere,
Nor any drop to drink.

But instead of water . . . .

Boobies, boobies everywhere,
And all the lads did wank;
Boobies, boobies everywhere,
Nor any cum got drank.

Addendum: Looks like the reader's comments is hidden from me at this time. I think this is a Blogger/Blogspot problem.

Recovering from Thanksgiving

When I was a little girl, Thanksgiving was not one of my favorite holidays. It was actually pretty low on the list. The list went something like this:

1. Christmas
2. Easter
3. Independence Day
4. New Year's Day
5. New Year's Eve
6. Christmas Eve
7. St. Patrick's Day
8. Halloween
9. Mother's Day
10. Groundhog Day
11. Father's Day
12. Thanksgiving

Over the years, some of the more adult holidays made their way up the list and St. Patrick's Day is a bit special for Savannah – it's not that I am Irish. Point being that Thanksgiving was not really that enjoyable for me. But as I have matured, I have really started enjoying the holiday.

Every second or third year, I work at one of the homeless shelters. There is something very rewarding in serving those less fortunate than us. I enjoy the church homilies, the family gatherings, the food, and even the shopping the day after Thanksgiving.

I always sensed that the adults enjoyed the holiday more than me. When you have food, football games, family and conversation, as a child, it is a bit of a yawner. Actually, perhaps it is a bit better for the guys. At least they got to play touch football in the backyard after the dinner. I was on "clean up" duty. Not sure why a uterus is necessary to clear the table, put away the food and wash the dishes, but when I was growing up, I did not question such things.

And several days later, I think I still have a tryptophan-induced content feeling. I hope my boss does not think he will get any work out of me today.

Leesa's Mailbag: Issue 1

I was looking at some things I did on my blog last week, and here are a couple of things that did not stand the test of time (they ended up being sort of lame):

1. YouTube Reviews. I started writing YouTube videos in December 2006, initially because I discovered it for myself and I wanted to give people exposure to their videos. I try posting them on Saturday, and you can see previous reviews by clicking on my YouTube label. But then I got bored with it. Perhaps I will write a YouTube video review every once in a while. We will see.

2. Web 2.0 Commentary. I have start writing certain blog entries that deal with Web 2.0. Mostly blogging and vlogging stuff, but I hope to add value to this important topic.

I think the YouTube reviews were lame for two reasons: (1) writing about homemade videos is more boring that watching homemade videos, and (2) I had to watch a lot of YouTube videos. The reason Web 2.0 fell out of favor was that I really did not know a lot about it.

Well, I am trying a new weekly, monthly or semi-annual blog entry called "Leesa's Mailbag." It will depend on the interest. Over the last few years, people have emailed me with questions, and I have answered them on an individual basis. Now, I think I will answer them on a blog entry. Perhaps Friday. Not sure I will get enough questions to do this often, but I will try to answer questions. Sort of an Ann Landers with attitude. Just write to the following email address:

Here are some questions answered in recent comments:

Knot wrote: I used to have a friend who told some of the most convincing stories. Not sure how many of them were real, but I guess 60% were false.

Leesa's answer: It is simple math. If you know what percentage of them were false, you can calculate the percentage of them which were real. The calculation follows:

Real % = 100% - False %

If 60% were false, then 40% would be real. But don't worry, love, congress has the same problem when balancing the budget. Of course, their confusion costs us money.

Funny thing was that I looked at a bunch of other answers I gave, and they were all not funny and a bit boring. Now I am wondering if doing this will be sort of like my other endeavors (see YouTube Reviews and Web 2.0 Commentaries above).

Followers
A few weeks ago, I mentioned a new Blogger gadget (I think they call them widgets) called "follower." I actually found a blog using the widget who had no followers at the time. That made me sort of sad.

And I got a question on followers: Anonymous wrote: how does this follower thing work?

Leesa's answer: Looks like Google/Blogger has a new widget for this. They wrote about it in August, actually, but I am sure many of us don't read "The Official Blogger Buzz."I think it is a way to stalk people. It might not be as satisfying as going onto their page and refreshing every few minutes, while cackling maniacally, but it still does the job.

One Percenters

Last week, I wrote about something I overheard in a fast food joint. Larry had the following observation:

There is a different number motorcycle gangs use to describe themselves, its the "1%" often inside a diamond, or "One-Percenters", which comes from the Brando movie "The Wild One", where when asked about the life depicted in the movie, the American motorcycle assoc said that the 1% of these bad characters give motorcylcing a bad name.

My current wife was a friend of Sonny Barger, the Oakland Hells Angel Chapter founder. She was at the Altamonte festival when they were providing security for the concert for the Stones. While living in the Oakland CA area, she meet lots of entertainers that liked to associated with them, Willie, Waylon, Kris, Johhny and Hank Jr.

And Larry has an interesting point.

We all have our experiences; we tend to assume that what we have experienced is "normal." From an old stats class, I translate normal to "68% of the population."I think that is one standard deviation for a normal distribution. But we aren't all normal; at least I don't think I am normal.

For instance, let's say you go to a football game. Georgia verses Georgia Tech. You notice that the Georgia fans are a bunch of animals. You assume all Georgia fans are animals. But that may not be the case.

Similarly, at work, one of your coworkers happens to be lesbian. She is also a Goth and perhaps Wiccan as well. You may conclude that all Goth-Wiccans are lesbians. And you would be wrong. Sure, they may have books on Gerald Gardner, and even have a large stash of porn, but that does not make it so.

Our minds really try and reconcile what we experience with what we believe. If one of your arch-enemies does a kindness to you, you might believe there is an ulterior motive.

What is the lesson to learn from this? Perhaps nothing. Perhaps, however, if you are a member of a group that is quite visible and you do stupid stuff, perhaps your actions will be painting a picture for those of us who are not embedded in your group.

Straying in a Relationship

Years ago, I strayed in my relationship with my husband. At the time, I was unaware as to why I strayed. Through a bit of counseling, some powerful psychotropic drugs, and several heart-to-heart conversations, we started working in the right direction.

When I did not really know I strayed, I could tell my husband was not heading to the divorce lawyer but was thinking about it. He would deny this to this day – but I can tell. I think he was this way for two important reasons:

1. I really did not understand why I went from loyal wife to cheating hussy. And if I didn't understand why I did this, I can't fix this in our relationship. I would not normally use "fix" but I am thinking from his point-of-view.

2. Until he found out, he had not a clue I was cheating. My actions towards him did not change while I was cheating, so I am sure he was unsure if he would pick up such clues if I began straying again.

These two things, more than anything else, really kept us from seeking some sort of closure for my infidelity.

I did do some things right. I owned up to the indiscretion. I listened to him talk about how it made him feel, even though I wanted to interject certain facts in my defense. I got professional help quickly – and as luck would have it, I found a faith-based counselor that really helped me to see things in a way that spoke to me.

Almost a year after my affair was made known to my husband, he strayed. I knew he did from the start – I read him so easily. It took him about a week to fess up after I dropped a hint that his behavior had changed.

In a way, getting over his indiscretion was easier to do. His reason (more of a vengeful, you cheated so I wanted to try it out/hurt you) was simpler to address, and since I knew the signs, he knows he will probably not be able to get away with it if he tries again. He also knows that we are all out of chances. Two strikes, if you will.

I have shared my story to a co-worker who I knew was getting friendly with someone else in the office. I told her, in unglamorous terms, about my own experiences. She cheated anyway. She got caught eventually, and then quit the company. Not sure if she is still married. She did say that she wish she would have listened to me, but things just continued to happen. Yeah, I have been there before.

Not sure why I wrote about this today . . . .

Eavesdropping at a Fast Food Restaurant

A couple of weeks ago, I was at a fast food restaurant – part of a large chain. It was the middle of a Saturday, and I was just grabbing a bite to eat at a location I do not frequent. Actually, the location was in a "bad part of town." Not bad enough for me to hold my pee and continue to the next area, if you know what I mean.

So I was sitting by myself, reading a book and eating. I always carry a book or two in the car. I don't mind eating by myself, but need to have a diversion. I almost always have a book in the car, a stack next to my bed, and others casually thrown throughout the house. When I was in school, I would buy Oxford Pocket Classics – can you imagine having a book, a classic, in your purse? Oh, am I geekish.

I am reading and here a rather large man taking to a family of four. I am going to call the big¹ man Frank. Not sure he is a Frank, but let's just do it to give him a name. Everyone deserves a name.

In the course of talking to the family, Frank learns about a guy they mutually know. Frank says that he was the other guy in the backyard story. Non-descript, I know, but that's what he said at first.

Then he talks about some associates, associated with a club known as the 81s. And he asks the family if they know what the 81s are. Luckily for me, they don't know, and he said the numbers represent the letters in the alphabet. But he says nothing more. HA, and I think of things it could be. It didn't take more than a minute to think "Hell's Angels."I could have googled it if I was at work, but the ol' brain still works.

Over the course of the conversation, he goes back to the backyard experience. A little more light is shed. He told the family that he knew they would be okay because "they can't do ballistics on shotguns."

Instantly, I casually look for the entrance. All clear. This guy is freaking me out.

I stay planted because I am interested and afraid.

I hear more about Frank's life – that he held a gun at someone's head because they touched his jacket. And he was not mad at the guy; he just did not want to be touched. Or how he would fight with others. He was a rough guy.

And I can't get it out of my head that he admitted to others that he and a friend killed two people in a backyard. I start to think about what to do with this information. How do I inform the police without having him know anything about me?

And then I remember something else he said. That he had a try-out with the NY Jets. Not that he tried out with them, but that they called him. I have known a couple of football players. They would have dwarfed this man. He played nose tackle and center. I can't remember which is which – I mean, one is defensive line, one is offensive line. But I can't remember which side of the line plays bigger. Point is, the guy had to be lying about the NY Jets. Not sure if he was lying about the backyard.

Just makes me feel better to have that as a possibility.

---

¹ A bit overweight, and I am being a tad kind, actually – not helpful, I know, when I am describing a scene.

Fish and Chips without the Fishies

I was told about a story of Sperm Donor shortage in the UK. The first thing that leaped to my mind was, "why the heck did the guy forward the article to me". I mean, does he want me to know because if I somehow travel to England and want to get knocked up while visiting a sperm bank, there may be a line? Okay, so this may not be about me personally, and I almost lost interest. Almost.

But then I started thinking. Dangerous, I know, but I started thinking about sperm banks and related problems.

When I was in college, I knew a couple of guys who would donate blood every six weeks or so. I think they were paid $12 for their donations. The blood was tested, or course, and it went into circulation. And these two guys I knew did it for the beer money. I mean, they were broke, but they would donate a pint every month or so to get beer money. Plus, as an added bonus, they could get wasted really quickly after they donated. Not the brightest bulbs, mind you. Perhaps they are managing hedge funds (and making millions) now.

I gave blood as well, not as often, and all I would get is a cookie and a white t-shirt. Perhaps some juice. And a warning not to do anything too strenuous for the next 24 hours. I would donate twice a year, at the times when blood bank trucks blocked the entrance to the library. They shamed me into giving. A good friend of mine was 102 pounds and anemic. I envied her at blood bank time.

Now I don't know a lot about sperm banks. Only what I have read in porn. And I would imagine you still don't get the cream of the crop, no pun intended, when you ask for sperm donors. I mean, you are asking for guys to masturbate into a beaker to old tittie magazines for money.

And it just occurred to me that some of these guys are making donations frequently. Perhaps for beer money. And they are not just donating a bit of semen. They are donating genetic material that actually may make a person. I mean, some alcoholic may be donating his genetics to a whole classroom of children. And he may be doing this every time he needs beer money.

With blood, you have to wait every 6 weeks for a new donation. With sperm donation, I don't think the wait is nearly as long.

And if two products of artificial insemination meet and marry. Well, they could be genetic siblings. I am not sure there is a term for "unintentional inbreeding", but perhaps someone ought to think of one. I mean, Dolly the Sheep was created in Scotland. I mean, I am a geographically challenged American, but Scotland is part of the UK, right? What is it with the UK and avoiding sex to make babies? Must be a Church of England thing.

On Marriage

A witty blogger I rarely follow wrote about her 2-1/2 year anniversary. Okay, when I was married, I celebrated my one month, two month, and six month anniversaries. At almost three months, I became a bit nauseated at the monthly anniversaries – the gifts were just not worth me cooking a fancy dinner, getting in a nice dress, and spending a lot of time on hair and makeup, coordinating lingerie, etc., when we ended up dancing horizontally. New hubbie basically showed up for a nice meal, a pretty wife and a night of passionate sex. He actually liked the anniversaries. Imagine that?

I still don't understand a 2-1/2 year anniversary. But that's okay. I also don't understand why people will pay a dollar to vote for someone on television but don't vote for a governor, senator or the president.

But you know, Jill is sort of lucky. She found her husband and they were allowed to get married.

But you know, there are lots of people who don't get the opportunity to get married. I was looking up marriage laws, and I was surprised to find that Mississippi had a law that you had to be 21, unless by parental consent. Some of the states say "written parental consent," and my mind leaps to signing one's own report card in school. Why not sign some type of consent document as well.

But I am not talking about minors. I am talking about the whole Proposition 8 deal that was in the news lately. Not my state, but certainly I have been thinking about it. Living in Georgia, I really should not care what they do in California. I like states rights. For me, if a state wants to make the death penalty illegal, that's fine by me. Same thing concerning marriage. Sort of, I guess. I mean, if I get married in Georgia, I want to make sure I am married in California, Florida or South Dakota. Can you imagine your spouse going to a meeting in Nevada, and your marriage not being valid in that state? I mean, all of those hookers and single women/men? Ouch.

For me, my religion says "man + woman" for marriage. I don't agree with it, but I also think the Pope's hat looks a bit outdated. What 'cha going to do? But my church also believes that gluttony is a sin. And I think it is fine that McDonalds sells a bunch of fat. I mean, the French fries are to die for. A slow death, clogged arteries and all.

I think the government should regulate marriage, but not stamp morality on the issue. I mean, tax marriage – the American thing to do. And I think everyone ought to be able to pay more in taxes, get bored in a sexless marriage, and be eligible for a nasty divorce. Sort of how this guy ended up, rich and alone after a marriage from hell.

American dream, baby. Let's don't discriminate because of body parts.

PSA: Oil Fires

You know, how you get some junk mail. I got one recently, with this movie attached. It is a PSA for Oil Fires. By posting it here, I don't think I am violating any copyright agreements. A bit frightening, this is.

$700 Billion Mistake: Won't Help Foreclosures

A few weeks ago, I wrote something about the $700 Billion Bailout. I was driving to work one morning last week, and I heard something about how the first chunk of change was going to help people fend off foreclosure. Now, perhaps the money will help loosen up some business credit, but I would like to dispel any notion of this money helping struggling homeowners.

I mean, most of the people who have their houses near disclosure are living close to the edge. I mean, if they weren't close to the edge, they would be making their home payments. Make sense?

But let's look at this from the point-of-view of someone who doesn't have very good credit and is making a house payment. To make this example concrete, I am going to make up some numbers. Let's say a family of four purchases their dream house a three years ago. They pay $200, 000 for the home, which is at market prices for the time. Maybe before the market crash, the homeowners looked on Zillow and saw that the house appreciated to $210K (5% in one year!). Now, however, the house is worth about $150K. The people made payments, each payment, at the first of each month. Now, they look at the equity they have in the house, and they are up-side-down. Perhaps they now owe $195K and the house is worth only $150K. The homeowners don't have good credit, and now they can either bail on the house, or keep paying on an asset that is depreciated and probably will not appreciate anytime soon. Not-stellar credit and even if you take a major hit on your credit, it gets forgotten after 7 years. If the homeowner keeps paying, it is not certain that in 7 years, they will be in better financial shape. Sure, the bank can sue the homeowner for the difference between the amount owned and amount the bank gets after foreclosure. But will the bank get anything from the person walking away from house? Doubtful.

Now the auto industry wants only a sliver of the $700 Billion. The problem, however, with the auto industry is that they are bleeding billions every quarter, and their business model is not about to change anytime soon. I don't really know if this is true, but some PhD on NPR said something to that effect last week.

Anyway, we are spending tons of money to fix a problem, and what we are doing is paying for bonuses and paying to solve rich people's problems. This is Medicaid for the rich, pure and simple. And we don't want to know.

Guess I will open my 401-K statement. That is something I have been putting off.

Class Warfare

I read an article the other (it was the other day when I wrote this, but this stayed in my draft folder until today) day in a magazine about marriage between classes. It is in a magazine that I normally don't read – I read it probably twice per year – and the article was trite, not-well-written and got published. I really think the only reason the article was published was for the title of the article and the picture which accompanied the article, a red stiletto next to a work boot. Perhaps the magazine wanted to use the picture and had to find an article to match.

I don't want to go into the article, but what I realized from the words was that some feel like there are still class distinctions in the United States. This is a fairly un-American sentiment, and a sentiment I did not believe exists.

I was brought up in a working class family, and although we did not make sandwiches for Dad who spent time in the mines, we were definitely not living comfortably. But even though I am not well-off, I have mixed in Upper Class company once in a while. And those with money – I am talking real money – they see themselves a bit differently than the rest of us.

I have seen the following concerning wealthy individuals:

1. They seem to believe they deserve their wealth, even if it is inherited.
2. Many feel that wealth comes with a burden. That money has a host of responsibilities and problems associated with it.
3. They seem to equate wealth with class. Can we all just say, "Oops. We can see the problem with this assumption." Two examples which come to mind (and how else would they be related) are OJ Simpson and Rush Limbaugh. Both are wealthy, and both lack class.

When I look at people, I don't see different classes. I mean, the reason behind the Campbell's soup artwork (Andy Warhol) is that whether you are a millionaire or some struggling food stamp family, you eat the same type of soup. Okay, since Andy Warhol painted these soup images, there have been lots of changes in food, and now if you are wealthy, perhaps you can get a better can of soup. But Warhol was interested in the fact that some threads reached across classes.

In college, I had a friend who was rich. And he would "cry on my shoulder" about all of his responsibilities. Things I could not understand about. All this while I was working through school, wondering if my paycheck would cover books this semester. Through it, though, I never once thought that he could not understand my concerns about money.

One thing that bugs me is when people assume they are smarter than me for whatever reason. Because they have money. Because they have power. Because they have influence. Because they have double-D boobs. Because they know HTML.

Sports and Politics

I captured this image a couple of weeks ago, I think. I was going to write something about rankings, perhaps talk about the BCS. Well, I have no idea what I was going to say, because I never wrote anything down.

A week ago, President-Elect Obama had this to say on Monday Night Football: "I think it is about time we had playoffs [in college football]. I'm fed up with these computer rankings and this and that and the other. Get eight teams -- the top eight teams right at the end. You got a playoff."

Some football fans credit this statement, on the eve of Election Day, putting him over the top. Me, I think it was more to do with politics, or the fact that W. Bush sucks.

I am very much in favor of a playoff, mostly because my team is Georgia Tech, and if we slide in at number 8, we may have a shot at winning a national championship. It could happen, a heck of a lot more likely than us going 12-0.

I want to say something philosophical and deep about football, but that sort of ruins the game. Am I right or what?

Accounting Refugees Unite

You know, every once in a while, I get something in my inbox, saying something like, "Hey, Blogger Chickie, join this cause to save the world. The flavor of the week this week is Refugees Unite."

At first, I thought perhaps I would write something about Cheerleading Refugees uniting. But then I would have to endure the guys talking about cheerleader bondage. And I really want to help someone.

So I looked through my recent memories, and I figured out that no one seems to help accountant refugees. I mean, let's say you help some CEO bilk millions from retirement accounts, slush funds, or wherever you could pilfer money for the well-deserving CEO. I mean, in industries where the government does not subsidize CEO golden parachutes for malfeasance. So if you are in big oil, and you are moving money around. Pretty soon the FBI busts into your private residence and suggests you cooperate or else you will be a resident in another gated community. But this new gated community is state-sponsored. So instead of rolling on your CEO, you flee for Mexico or Tuvalu.

Now, these poor accountants are in foreign countries, left with just the clothes on their backs and the stacks of unmarked bills in their suitcases. A pity.

I say we start some sort of fund for these guys. I mean, they probably don't have English cable television or Diet Dr. Pepper, or online banking. A true pity.

Please cue the violin music. Any of you wishing to donate to this fund can deposit money for this worthy cause.

Blogging is Like Anal Sex

The other day, without any provocation from anything I have written, Joe made the following statement: "Blogging is like anal sex. That analogy sprung to mind, but I have no idea how to tie it all together. Can you work on that for me?"

I will take this opportunity to see if I can convince you that blogging is like anal sex. Let's lube up and begin.

The reasons that blogging is like anal sex.

1. People just don't admit they do it. I mean, how many of us who blog once, twice, three times per week will even admit reading blogs, much less writing about them. When asked about it, one may say, "Blogging? I have heard about it, but I have never really thought to do it."

In the same vein, while some mentioning of sex can be seen in even polite company, I have never heard someone even jokingly talking about sex around the poppie hole.

2. It is just not natural. When I was in school, we had health. I learned that you ate food with your mouth, that your teeth start the digestive process, then down to a bunch of tubes, to the stomach, to a bunch of other tubes, and exits out the anus. I always laughed on the inside when I had to write "anus" on a health test. The point is, when I was in health, we talked about the anus being the exit for the food after the nutritious stuff was taken into the body. There was nothing said about it being a secondary entrance for a guy's penis. I always laughed on the inside when I had to write "penis" on the health test.

Blogging is not natural either. I mean, when you think of writers, you think about someone writing for a newspaper or magazine or, better yet, writing a book. I wonder if the people who wrote all of those various tests on Cosmo were laughing when they wrote them. Expressing yourself by writing is one thing; blogging is not natural.

3. It is just – so dirty. Blogging can be really dirty work. I mean, if you look at some of my own work and the work of others, some of what we write about is painful, dirty. I label this as cathartic, but others may see it more as dirty. Raw emotions can be dirty.

Anal sex is also dirty. And we all can guess why. 'Nuff said.

4. It is too hard to do every day. But if you don't do it very often, starting can be painful. Just read that last sentence again and again. It is too hard to do every day. Blogging, it is too hard . . . . Anal sex, it is too hard . . . . Do I really need to spell this out for you? Didn't think so.

Blog Following and Anal Sex

If you have not guessed, I have been a bit distracted lately. Not bad distracted, but distracted from everything blog-related. Actually, this has been an evolutionary process, and I have been more dispassionate the last year to eighteen months.

By dispassionate, I don't mean I don't care at all. I usually care so damn much about things that interest me. For instance, when I was first blogging, I would hit 20 or 30 blogs per day, making comments about half of them. Witty comments too. And not about panties or cum stains (hard to believe, I know), but about living with loss, hand regeneration, bio-nuclear engineering, and pop tart art. I fancied myself the Michelle Angelo of blogging (yeah, I know it's Michael, but there did not seem to be a bunch of well-rounded women in the Renaissance period (I mean, Bottochelli's female models were rounded, but not well-rounded).

Anyway, there is a sort of new feature called Blogger Following. The feature lets readers/viewers publicly subscribe to your blog and, if you want it, can add a "Follower" list to your blog so that people can see who follows your blog. It lets you know who is reading, and they don't miss a single sentence fragment. I don't know if I want to add a follower list – it looks cool, but sadly, I only have one follower. I mean, an army is a cool thing, but an army of one, well that seems to be fairly pathetic. Incidentally, that is also the US Army's current tag line. Oopsie.

The following is a clip from an HBO show called Lucky Louie. It is making its way around, and although I don't particularly like the subject, I was rolling on the floor laughing. Perhaps because I don't like the subject (anal sex). It's of an adult nature, so it is tasteful (unlike some of my posts).



I don't know why I am mixing these two very different subjects – just say my medication levels are off, perhaps. Oh, and I am not sure you should mix anything with anal sex – that has led many a person to the local emergency room. Remember, don't replace light bulbs while engaging in anal sex. It goes badly for those involved, but it does provide wonderful joke potential.

The first post after the election – deals with leaders and anal sex. Makes sense to me.

Election Day Advice

Today is Election Day. All over the country. And I have heard a lot about how it is our duty to vote. But you know, if you don't know how many Supreme Court justices we have in the US, if you don't understand something about the issues, and if you get your advice from bloggers, I don't want you voting.

You see, ill-informed votes dilute other people's votes. I mean, if you have given it some thought. Even if you looked at the candidates mascots and figured which would beat the other in an ultimate fighting match (Obama went to Columbia, the mascot is a lion; McCain graduated the United States Naval Academy, the mascot is a goat), I am betting on the lion making cabrito out of the goat. The point is that I want people to think before they vote. But not real random thoughts. I don’t want a voter saying, "Well that McCain supporter had nice tits. I think I will vote for McCain."

I want voters to come up with cogent arguments that make sense in your world view. I mean, I don't care if the methodology is bizarre – just that you have some rationale. Let's say you make your living on insider trading. Well, if you thought McCain would be tougher on adding people to police insider trading, vote for Obama. Or if you are a military contractor doing business in Iraq and am afraid Obama would get us out of Iraq (I find this a bit doubtful), then vote for McCain.

But if you have no clue who to vote for, don't practice drunken voting. Just don't vote. And if you want to lie about it, then you will have something in common with most candidates. I don't think a vote for Obama or McCain means the end to civilization as we know it. That was last election.

So if you don't want to vote for president, just pass. And if people want you to go to the voting booth with them (perhaps a candidate entices you with booze or a ride anywhere in the city), then vote. But just vote against all of the ballot initiatives. Most of them are just something about raising taxes (or bonds to build this or that). Sure, occasionally it will be on another issue, but since the initiative is poorly written anyway, you probably won't be able to figure out what it says. And we have survived all this time without the initiative, so what harm does it do for not passing it?

Me, I am going to see what soft drinks each prefers to make my choice. But have a system people. We don't need no more hanging chads.

---

My prediction (made on November 3, 2008): Obama will win 46 of 50 States. It will be an early night for those setting up camp on the couch with a pint of Häagen-Dazs and the remote.

Oh, and this just in. Someone sent it to me - so I don't have a real source - other than the wire itself.

LAND O' LAKES, Fla. (AP) - A nudist community on Florida's west coast wants to establish the first clothing-optional polling site. The Caliente Resorts, located in Pasco County north of Tampa, has approached election officials about the idea.

Nothing in state law would prohibit it, but the supervisor of elections says he is opposed to creating any new precincts before redistricting in 2010.

Gives another meaning to the term "hanging chads."

The Ten Commandments

Grant, an occasional reader and wonderful writer, wrote something on Halloween that was not satanic, overtly mocking, or had any pictures of hot Asian women in miniskirts. He wrote about religion. But not in a "why doesn't your Savior get a haircut" sort of way. More like in a way where several freshmen political science majors could plagiarize his blog, quoting him as "a senior white house official".

Grant's thesis, as follows: "Here in the Southeastern portion of the United States a lot of the Christian propaganda slingers make claims that our laws are based on the ten commandments." I have taken all of the wit out of the thesis, basically so I look clever and sexy, and Grant looks like an accountant with morals. Yeah, some accountants have morals. I have read about them. Okay, I haven't. But based on the number of accountants in the United States, there have to be some with morals.

Okay, I had to go back to Grant's site to cut and paste the Ten Commandments – and there was mention of a miniskirt in his blog. Well, at least I know it is him. [edited in: The bolded parts are from Grant's blog, and the rest is crap I made up and pawned off as fact. I added this after knot made a comment that made me think I was cutting and pasting all of Grant's blog from this point forward.]

The reason I took his 10 Commandments is because I don't know all ten of them. You see, I am Catholic. All I remember is not to have sex before married, or until the guy is really, really frustrated. Anyway, Grant gave very good reasons why most or all of these commandments have no relevance to our current government, and I thought it would be interesting if I tried the exact opposite approach, that the commandments are entrenched in our government.

#1: Do not have any other gods before me. The US Government can be thought of as a god. Our money has the words "In God We Trust" emblazoned on its money, but we are really talking about the US Government. If you have a peek at the government, it grows. When President Carter decided to make two new cabinet posts (the Department of Energy and Department of Education). These two departments have grown a lot over the years, and I don't know too many people who think we have a better energy plan or our education is any better since establishing these two departments. Clearly, the US Government thinks they are god, and the government knows best. So this commandment is clearly entrenched in the US Government.

#2: You shall not make or worship a false idol. You see, the government, according to the above, is the true idol. The government gets more power when you rely on it, when you take their handouts. And I am not faulting anyone from taking handouts. I mean, when I turn 65 or 72 or whenever I am eligible for Social Security, I will be filing my paperwork. But the Government doesn't want us to build our own businesses (why else would they tax them the way they do?), to form communities where we don't depend on Social Security (the Amish, for instance). No, our Government does not want us to worship other things.

#3: You shall not take the name of the Lord your God in vain. Again, if the US Government is a god, then why do you think we enacted the Patriot Act? To catch bad guys? Right. How about having something where we can spy on our own? Oh, and as a bonus, we can imprison those who are against us. Bonus.

#4: Remember the Sabbath day and keep it holy. The Sabbath is not necessarily Sunday. For our government, there are several of these days. We call them Federal holidays. Try mailing a letter or depositing money in a bank on those days. Even some public transportation is extremely scaled back.

#5: Honor your father and your mother. Okay, again, "father" and "mother" are actually the President and Vice President. Mom and Pops. Seems you can't burn these people in effigy. I remember in school that the founding fathers burned King George III in effigy. Hell, if W. had a son named George, think of the parallels. Oh, I am off on a tangent again. Anyway, the Government doesn't like free speech if it involves fire. Think flag burning, yelling fire in a building. I could go on and on. Hey, now that is a great title for a blog. Again, a tangent.

#6: You shall not kill. This rule is for individuals, not municipalities. I mean, who hasn't read an article about some rookie cop shooting a ten-year-old with a lime green squirt gun. Oh, and this is the law of the land, as long as you don't count Texas. In Texas, you can kill someone if they are on your property holding your television set. Apparently, a TV set is considered a deadly weapon. I gave an argument for this one, but admittedly, this is my weakest argument thus far.

#7: You shall not commit adultery. I think this means you can't say, "Government, fuck yourself." Say government, bomb, George Bush, and anthrax on the phone to someone. See how long until some ATF guy with a 'tude knocks down your door. It may not be illegal, but if they can put you in jail without you seeing a judge, er, I think that is a bit worse than something that is illegal. I mean, you still screwed.

#8: You shall not steal. You can't cheat on taxes. That is like stealing from god. Not cool, illegal, and how they nailed Capone.

#9: You shall not bear false witness against your neighbor. Don't lie in court. Sort of like the above, except they nailed Martha Stewart (she really needed nailing, in more ways than one). They couldn't get her for those stupid doilies she makes on camera or the bitch she is, so they got her on lying.

#10: You shall not covet your neighbor's swag. I actually had to look this one up. I did not know what a swag was, but I am guessing it is a female stag. Bestiality is illegal, immoral and messy.

Okay, so I just argued the opposite of Grant. And I filled in all the blanks. Oh, and you know what is sort of funny, other than my one stalker (yeah, Grant, I have a stalker and you don't) and a few other people, the only people who will be reading this are freshmen political science majors and people surfing for Asian girls in miniskirts. And that's called limited freedom of speech, baby!

Nasty Comments

For those of you who read comments (I normally don't read other blog comments, so if you are like me, you may not be aware), I have had a nasty anonymous commenter lately.

I normally write for myself and really don't care where you are from (and don't snoop to see where people are from). Anyway, this gal pissed me off, mostly because she hides behind being anonymous. As Prata or Grant would suggest, posting anonymous comments are not really anonymous.

Well, Wednesday night (Oct 29 2008 7:38:05 pm), she posted another note. I don't know a lot about her, but I do know she probably is from Chester, New York. She uses Optimum Online (Cablevision Systems), perhaps uses Firefox for her browser (at work - oh, and her work computer is a PC running Windows XP). And I have her IP Address. And if that is not all, her initials are AF (yeah, I know the name, too, or the name she has used in the past on her work computer).

Sorry I can't have anonymous comments right now.

Presidential Infomercial

I remember when Infomercials first started out (I think). Anyway, there were three main television stations (ABC, CBS and NBC), one public television station, and one independent station. Well, the independent station, every once in a while, would air a 30 minute Infomercial. I am assuming they just did not have the cash to run "What's Happening" again. Remember, I live in the deep south, and people did not like the social commentary of "Good Times." I did not understand it, actually, at the time but I tripped on the differences in an English class in college. For some reason, college English has a lot to do about social commentary, sex and politics. Not just GPS – grammar, punctuation and spelling. Guess it was more about communicating ideas than the vehicles (sentences) in which the ideas are communicated.

Crap, I should remember that – it sounds pretty insightful. Note to self: spew this out at the next cocktail party I attend.

Anyway, I saw Obama's Infomercial last night. I had two thoughts when watching this: (1) Obama could make a killing being the voice-over for documentaries, he really could, and (2) Obama is presidential.

Both presidential candidates this time are presidential – people you wouldn't mind seeing in the oval office. I like that.

I have been on the fence for some time, and my biggest hurdle is not the candidates. It is the people who support them. I don't like either side, and until now, I thought I must be anti-social or something. I don't like the Republicans who are blogging about them (or their talk show hosts that talk about them), and I don't like the Democrats that are telling their part for Obama. I don't like either's supporters. If one side had fewer supporters, perhaps I would favor that side. Either that, or if one side had fewer assholes supporting them.

Now, I have friends on both sides that have tried to sway me – I am not talking about them. I am talking about what I here when driving to work, what I read in the Op-Ed part of the paper (the third most read part of most newspapers, behind the comics and sports).

I am ready for this to be over already so I can start believing in someone who was not like W. or Clinton. I didn't like Bush senior, but he did not annoy me the way the last 16 years have. And I would have been annoyed by Gore as well. Can't we just have someone that doesn't piss off 60% of Americans? Is that too much to ask?

Loved the Infomercial. And I felt that I could just pick up my cell phone and text in my vote for president. Wait, that was another show, right? Made me want to own a Ginsu knife though. Not sure why.

Financial Bailout

Over the last day or so, we have heard a lot about how some banks will use their bailout money. Some reports are that the banks are going to some of it on bonuses. Oh, they say, the bonuses are a significant part of one's salary, and it should be around what they earned last year.

So we have an industry where a bunch of people screwed up, and we want to ensure they are rewarded to the extent they were rewarded the previous year? Doesn't seem to make sense to me.

Can you imagine this in other areas of the world.

Drunk Drivers
Judge: Okay, Mr. Drunk Driver, the state has arrested you for drunk driving. We do not want drunk drivers on the road.

Drunk Driver: Do you are going to lock me up, huh?

Judge: Well, you smashed up your car pretty good when you ran that school bus off the road. We thought we would give you some money so you can buy another car?

Gambler
Casino Boss: Well, Mr. Gambler, you lost lots of money at our casino this week. Looking at your credit at our casino, you seem to be tapped out.

Gambler: Guess you will comp my room tonight and send me on my way.

Casino Boss: Not exactly. We are part of a government program to extend more credit to you. In fact, we don't want your losses to hurt you in any way, so we are also going to comp you some meals, theater tickets, and, what the heck, a prostitute.

Gambler: Thanks. I learned my lesson.

---

We are teaching industry that when they screw up, we will pick them up, dust them off, and give them what they need to fail again. We have always had the government lining the pockets of the rich since the barons of the nineteenth century. It just was not that obvious until now.

Limiting One's Choices

There is a photographer I absolutely love in Flickr. Well two, but this one (named AustinTX) took the picture to the right of my words. I love this picture. And not for the reasons that others may like this picture.
Yeah, she is a beautiful young woman, completely nude – but tastefully so – and she is looking at pictures on the bed. Well, I am not sure that's what she is looking at, but that's what the image suggests. When I was in my late teens and early twenties, I did not take any naughty pictures. I mean, there is one picture of me, but it was not a "photo shoot." And now I don't have my twenty-year-old bod anymore. So I really can't ever do nudie pics that show me in my twenties.

If I had to do it all over again, would I want some naughty pics of me? Maybe. Maybe.

Getting to Know Your Cyber-Lover

Like many thirty-something women, on rare occasion, I chat with guys. You can go any of a number of public chat rooms and find people who want nothing more than to discuss sex. Sometimes these discussions concern previous experiences – which is nice because it is a way of reminding yourself of previous liaisons, and sometimes the guy wants to masturbate, and your words and attentions help him do that.

But when you meet such a man online, you really don't know much about him. You can't really trust what he says about his age, location or marital status, or even his real likes and dislikes. You can chat and talk and sometimes get a better idea, but you really don't know for sure.

Okay, so let's say I had a friend, let's call him Push77. Turns out he is a bit older than me, graduating college in 1977, and he loves to push his cock inside of women. That's how he got his name.

Anyway, after one cybersex session, we were chatting about this and that, and I asked him which video sides he thought were good. He turned me onto a site I had not ever seen – fantasti.cc. If is definitely not work friendly. But neither were our chats.

Anyway, afterwards, I trek on over to the site. You have to sign up, which is a major pain in the ass, but I do anyway. Turns out the site links to lots of other sites – it uses frames so you can see many other sites without having to leave their site. Sort of cheating, but if you can search for good porn, why not?

After looking at the site for just a little while, I get bored and leave.

A couple of weeks later, I get a note from the site, saying that I have a new "friend", Push77. Well, I log onto the site, wondering what a new friend means to a site that just serves up porn. Well, turns out that you can "save" porn that you like to view later. Not that I knew that, but I investigate it. Turns out, since Push77 is now a friend, I can see his taste in porn. I am psyched, because I want to see if he views what we chat about.

I log onto the site, and one of his favorites is "Amazing Girl Fucking Fantastic (22:11)". It starts out with this 20-year-old hottie, small boobs, shoulder-length light brunette hair, long eyelashes. Oh, and it is from megarotic (remember the site does not have its own videos). She is a cutie, but I would get bored very easily if she is just looking at herself in the closet door mirror.

Enter skanky guy. At first I don't know it is skanky guy. All I see is a huge penis, thick and long. And then my focus is really taken away. I mean, she licks him, takes him deep inside her mouth and all I see is his fantastic manhood. It is not for a minute or two when he starts fingering her and she says something about "my little pussy," that I remember there is a girl in the video.

But really, for me, the action is still on him. I mean, she is there, bending over, accepting his penis deep inside of her, but her gaping labial lips seem like just the right place for his cock to be. Their juices flow, and my heart begins beating faster. I love that Push77 has picked a video that he can enjoy that seems to give me pleasure as well. The only thing that detracts slightly is that she spits on his penis several times. And I wonder when I do the same, do I seem less ladylike.

The girl swallows the cum expertly and smiles. Video over.

After watching it, I go back to see what over videos Push77 has selected. I start to feel that he really has not lied, that our sessions are similar to the video I have just seen. Then I see his short bio. Apparently he is gay. Not bisexual on the bio page but gay. Still a great cyber lover, but gay. Guess I did not see that one coming.

Political Decisions

I am completely beside myself. I have to decide by November 4 on who I should vote for. If you think about it, ruminating over this decision is fairly inefficient. There will be more than 120 million people deciding on who the next president should be. And a bunch of people are figuring out for themselves who to vote for. If half are not decided (not voting in step with their party affiliation), that is 60 million people who were trying to figure this thing out.

Anyway, I have got an idea. I started keeping a list of drivers – some with Obama bumper stickers, some with McCain bumper stickers – and what they have done to piss me off. I am not normally a half-empty person, but I don't notice cars unless there is something unusual they have done, and most of the unusual seems to be bad.

For instance:

McCain Lexus ES330. Was stopped on a red light. Blinker indicating the car wanted to turn right. No other traffic. Owner on cell phone and did not turn until the light was green. McCain 0 Obama 1

Obama Toyota Celica. Driving on the highway and the car passes me on the right. Nearly clips the side of my car, and I was traveling 8 miles above the speed limit. McCain 1 Obama 1

Obama Ford Truck. Turning left on a red light. The arrow changed to green and the owner makes the turn right before the light changes to yellow. Lots of cars had to wait because owner was not paying attention, and not even on the phone. McCain 2 Obama 1

McCain Saturn sedan. Owner picking nose at stop light. Gross. McCain 2 Obama 2

McCain Ford Focus. Owner listening to loud Christian music at stop light. Not sure one should blast Bethany Dillon ever. McCain 2 Obama 3

Anyway, you get the idea. I am not sure where this will lead me, but I will at least be as informed as those who listen to political commercials. It is hard to believe that some people don't understand that political commercials are really advertisements. I mean, if you are not going to trust George Foreman when you buy your next hibachi, why trust political ads to make your decision for you.

On Writing

It's almost here: National Novel Writing Month. I have thought about doing this year after year. Last year, I started it – but I fizzled out fast. I did about 6,000 words over four days. And I did not do a darn thing for the rest of the month. I trashed the words – I did not like where the plot was going, and I was sort of frustrated as well. So I trashed it. It felt good, actually.

Kerry McFee, NaNo-Overachiever, wrote a piece about how she wrote so many words last year. Sort of funny, but not sure I just want to write words. Still, she wrote a whole lot last year. Pretty impressive.

I have read that writers write because a bunch of woman will sleep with you if you publish a book. When I was younger, I may have been in that screaming throng, eager to shed my panties for a playwright or a poet. I don't know what it is about men who can write. But that's not what I am writing about today.

I find myself on the edge of November once again, and I desperately want to write, but I am not sure how to begin. I know, I know. You begin by diving in, writing word after delectable word. But I don't even know what genre I want to write in. I mean, because it is a novel, that would eliminate all the books on buckeyballs and nanotechnology. Okay, I will admit it, I know nothing about them, but they sound darned impressive. Nearly damned impressive. And I will not write a cookbook. Or a travel book.

Everyone's mind leaps to erotica. And you know, I have the stored knowledge and experience to write a nice tale. But when I write about erotica, I tend to want to masturbate A LOT, and I am not sure I would have the energy to write 50,000 words about erotica and masturbate nearly continuously in order to find my muse.

Doctor: "This is a highly unusual case. Notice the vaginal tearings, the engorged clitoris, and the carpel tunnel syndrome from typing. Frankly, I have no idea how she got into this condition. Very strange."

Nurse: "You can stop examining her, doctor."

I just don't want to visit the ER for such a reason. Yikes.

And I am not thrilled about writing a children's book. I know, I know, JK Rawlins may be the highest paid author ever – going from living in her car with her kids to a nest egg that is over one billion dollars – but that only happens to one author (and it already happened to her).

I don't want to write about vampires – I find them too creepy – or romance novels – too trite. And the more I write here, the more I have a "don't list" instead of a "do" list. Perhaps writing turns me into a negative person. I write about what not to say to someone who has lost of loved one instead of what to say. How not to fuck 40 of your co-workers instead of how to fuck 40 of your co-workers. How not to contract an STD in a public restroom instead . . . you get the idea.

This year I am going to write about how to ring 50,000 words from my brain in the month of November instead of worrying about not being able to do it. One word at a time.

Voting Strategy

Okay, there is a bit of an election in early November, and I figured that I would let you know who to vote for. I am not going to give you a name, but a strategy in which to choose a president.

First, I want you to think back to past elections. You have to have selective amnesia, of sorts, and remember who you voted for and why. Then, if they were elected, how did they perform in the office. Then think of people you thought were bozos pre-election, and then how they performed. Then you look to see how your pre-election thoughts panned out. Obviously, your pre-election thoughts may be different than my pre-election thoughts, and that is okay. I am not telling you that you are right or I am right. Just look at your pre-election thoughts and then what happened while the president was in office. Were they congruent? Did your predictions pan out?

Here are two examples I have:

President Reagan
I was not of voting age when Carter and Reagan were campaigning for president in 1980. But I remember the election and remember what I thought. I remember thinking that even though Carter was not really doing a super job as president, mostly due to things beyond his control, I thought that electing a B-list actor from California did not seem like a smooth move. Plus he was governor of California. I am living in Georgia – and people from California were considered nuts at the time. My reaction to Reagan was really unflattering, and I think his presidency, even though I did not agree with everything, was very positive.

Summary:
pre-election view of Reagan: he sucked
post-election view of Reagan: how wrong could I be?

President Clinton
I could vote for President Clinton when he was first elected. I was not focused on the election, but it seems that he seemed to have come out of nowhere. I thought, this man rocks. He is not like other politicians. Not like Bush at all. I was not a Bush supporter, and I thought about voting for Clinton. I actually voted for Ross Perot – because I wanted to give those in office cause for worry about third party candidates. But when Clinton was elected, I was pleased. Since I was – and to a great extent, still am – an idealist, when I learned of Travelgate (the White House travel office controversy), Whitewater (the Susan McDougal land deal controversy), the FBI file controversy, and the circumstances surrounding Vince Foster's death (just felt fishy). And that has nothing to do with Clinton's apparent liaisons with women (when Arkansas governor, a couple of troopers had a bit to say about this), Gennifer Flowers, Monica and her blue dress, and I may have missed some. I remember reading portions of the Starr report – an interesting read.

Summary:
pre-election view of Clinton: very favorable
post-election view of Reagan: how wrong could I be?

Bottom line is that I am not really good at picking the president. I should really just do the opposite of what I want to do. Who knows, you may be better at discerning who would make a good president based on pre-election thoughts.
It is easier to pick the trifecta after you know the results of the race, but then it is too late to bet. I, am a voter, sort of suck at picking a good representative. Is that because my choosing skills suck or because the whole process is hosed? Sometime to think about.

In Love with Eli Stone

Last year, I fell in love with Eli Stone. And I don't mean Jonny Lee Miller, the man who plays Eli Stone. I am talking about the television show. Okay, I like www.ibdb.com. It makes me sound so much more with-it when talking about pop culture. The premier of Eli Stone is Tuesday, October 14, on prime time.

I guess I like the story because it is about redemption. You have some lawyer who may have not made the best decisions in his life. Then, he has an epiphany. Or a brain aneurism. Or something.

I like stories about redemption, perhaps because I want very much so to be redeemed. And willpower is a bit more courageous than keeping a dime between one's knees. Don’t believe me – give it a try.

I sometimes feel that God is communicating to all of us – perhaps not through cataclysmic visions (one of Stone's visions was of an earthquake). That would be too easy. I think we are all trying to find our way in the world, and I think it would be sort of humorous if God was guiding us through, but most of us were not in tune to hear what He was telling us.

Reminds me of an Abba song: Cassandra. Okay, the song is actually a re-telling of the Greek tale. Here is the "Leesa version" of the story. Cassandra hooked up with Apollo. Apollo is the god of light and sun. From the statues I remember when I was in high school, he had a little penis but a large scrotum. I figure he really knew how to use his junk, though, because he had lots of lovers. Cassandra must have been a good lay because Apollo gave her the gift of seeing (or hearing, depending on the story) the future. Well, Cassandra did not return Apollo's love, so then Apollo placed a curse on her so that no one would ever believe her predictions.

Things went downhill after that. She predicted the Trojan War; no one believed her. Her parents locked her up because apparently she was a raving lunatic. She was raped (by "Locrian" Ajax) and taken as a concubine (by King Agamemnon of Mycenae). Moral of the story: don't screw around with the gods.

So I have gone from a television show, to my religious views, to the Greek stories. No answers. Just God trying to talk to us and most of us (me included) having ear buds blocking our ears. Sorry, God.

A MILF By Any Other Name

The other day, I was watching some television shows online, and there was a commercial about the "Gilmore Girls." I did not know that Lauren Graham being a MILF was why some men enjoyed the show. Actually, I don't know of a single man who ever commented on the show. But to have a commercial, even online, that highlights the fact that the show is "MILF and Cookies."

Okay, I have heard the term MILF. And when I looked at the Urban Dictionary, there is an entry for "MILF and Cookies." But I think the definition was made up. I mean, is this a MILF that is sweet? Or fattening? The definition is not so entertaining.

Then we fast forward to Sarah Palin. Yeah, you know the one.



I am neither Democrat nor Republican, but I have heard not one but two Republican pundits mention that they'd like to . . . . Well, I mean, if you are part of a party that is prudish, it seems silly to shout for joy that your VP candidate is more f***able than the other party's candidate.

When I was young, I remember hearing something in the news about Jimmy Carter. Mr. President said that "he had lust in his heart for some Playboy Playmate." All you have to do is google Jimmy Carter and Playmate and you get Patti McGuire's name. Jimmy Carter is still a bit of a legend in my state. Mr. President was an honorable man. He did say something about lusting for a playmate. Okay, we had a president with a libido. Again, understandable.

I never understood the moment that MILF became a household word – a line we crossed as a society. I saw a sit-com last year, and they used the word, "cameltoe." Really. It is official; the world is going to hell in a hand basket. Enjoy the ride.