To all the middle-class Americans trying to get away from it all this weekend:
Guess what: you’ve just set your siesta up in what is essentially my yard. I live here. So when a sunburn’s the only memory you have of your drunken flame-broiled adventure, I’ll still be here, dealing with the aftereffects of your douchebaggery.
You may think your precious Pekinese only poops petunias, exempting you from carrying those annoying little plastic bags, but I’m here to tell you that even the tiniest dog turd stinks up the place when attached to my shoe. Plus, my own dogs think it’s a tasty treat from heaven, making the whole experience that much more gross.
And it’s great that your kids can take a few days to ride their bikes and run around like nature intended, but just because my home’s a camper doesn’t mean I don’t have standards too. Would you allow the same insanity at home?
Wait, don’t answer that: I’m fearful of what the truth might be. Because my brother and I never ran amok in other peoples’ campsites. And we never, ever ran up and tried to pet strange dogs. Just because they’re cute doesn’t mean they don’t have teeth. From now on I’m gonna’ start carrying waivers for you to sign as your tiny hands reach — in my dogs’ minds — menacingly toward the top of their heads.
And then I’ll sit tight, hiding until you finally pack your obscene amounts of foods and — really? — golf carts — so you don’t have to actually ambulate of your own accord — into your financed to the nines RV and go back to your own home.
At which point I’ll breathe a sigh of relief, sit outside in peace with my coffee, surrounded by nothing but nature, and prepare for next weekend’s assault.
Checked out an article posted on FB by my friend Cheryl — In a nutshell, it’s about the fact that a healthy diet can reverse all sorts of ailments. No shit.
The HuffPo article talks about a severely diabetic woman who literally turned her health around through a plant-based diet.
According to author John Robbins, the great whole foods guru:
The physicians she was seeing for her diabetes took a look at her numbers, were amazed, and wanted to know how she did it. “I told them I had adopted a completely plant-based diet. They didn’t seem surprised at all, and told me that plant-based diets were helping to reverse diabetes. When I asked why they had not suggested it, they told me because it isn’t practical.”
Aghast, she asked her doctor, “Do you think it’s practical to be 30 years old and lose a leg?”
She walked out of that doctor’s office and never went back. “Everything changed from that moment,” she recalls. “I slowly decreased all the other diabetes medicines I was on. I lowered my blood cholesterol without drugs. I lowered my blood pressure without drugs. I corrected my hormonal problems without drugs. Many diabetics go blind, but I reversed the nerve damage in my eyes. And that infection in my leg? It completely healed. The arthritis in my feet? It went away.”
Ironically, this sort-of ties into an absolute rage-fest I had last week.
It apparently snowed last night. You wouldn’t know it – it’s just wet and rainy now. Sort of feels like summer in San Francisco! I think I spent six months soaking wet, riding through puddles halfway up the bike rims. It was El Ninõ, and being a messenger in that kind of stuff makes you feel invincible, but soggy.
Of course, that was before unionization, so you had to ride or you had no money, no matter what got in your way. I got hit by six cars, and each and every time I got back up and kept delivering somebody’s divorce papers, or contracts, or whatever was so important it had to be there a.s.a.p.
I remember riding in an elevator with a woman, probably a few years older than me, maybe the same age, who can tell? Most of the suits ignored us, moved as far away as possible so as not to get the city streets and sweat on their thousand-dollar suits.
“I used to be like you,” she said, turning to talk to me.
“Really?” I asked, curious.
“Yeah, I was a messenger for a while, but now…” she looked down. You could tell she’d rather be huffing fumes up and down Market than sitting in some cush office.
“It’s the best job in the world,” I said, and I meant it. Of course, the unsaid sentiment was that it was also the worst, like living a manic-depressive episode ten hours a day.
Oh my god! I feel like I’ve been in exile, and in a way I have thanks to my sad little internet connection. It’s spring here, so that means rainy and miserable, which only makes me want to watch useless stuff on TV. But, seeing as I have no TV, my other option is to watch stuff online. And that uses megabytes, gigabytes, whatev…
Short and boring story to the point: I’ve been cutoff from the Internet since about the Ides of March. Could I have hit up the Panera or Starbucks a few miles out? Sure, but you drive a gas beast and it’s raining, last thing you want to do is go anywhere.
So I’ve sort of been listening to what’s going on in the big, bad world … but not really.
I know everyone’s gone on and on about the fact that the U.N. started bombing Libya on the same day, diff year, as the U.S. went into Iraq.
Which time, huh?
That’s why I’ve decided to just hunker down in these here mountains and plant some stuff. I know… black thumb and all. But, hey, I got a potato to make new eyes! (It did it in the cupboard … but still… )
I’ll think of something interesting to say eventually… gotta’ head to the news pages to really get the blood boiling! Ha!
On December 21, 1988, 259 souls were torn from the cold night and thrown six miles to the terra firma of Lockerbie, Scotland, as the 747 they were in was blasted to pieces. Part of the fuselage with 60 passengers inside landed between houses, a jet engine crashed to earth on the other side of town, while a wing vaporized three houses and its 11 occupants after bursting into a fireball, leaving nothing but a crater.
In Lockerbie, they’ll describe that night as hell on earth, a nuclear-seeming holocaust. One woman nearly vomits at the smell of leather – she was a child, and her mother carried her, screaming, through the flames and raining fuel while wearing a leather jacket.
Bodies, body parts, contents and pieces of the plane, luggage, presents, teddy bears and jet fuel rained down, covering an area of more than 800 square miles. Rescuers describe dead found clutching handfuls of grass, others with arms wrapped tight around each other.
According to Libyan ex-justice minister Mustafa Abdel-Jalil, Libyan dictator Moammar Gadhafi gave the direct orders to bomb Pan Am 103 from the sky, according to the Associated Press.
What the hell is going on in Wisconsin, huh?
Democratic Senators fleeing the state en masse, 40,000 people, as of Friday, taking to the streets to protest, and the tea party shipping in good conservative souls from all points to counter.
It almost sounds like the Middle East, with one glaring exception: we have the constitutional right to gather and make our voices heard without repercussions.
Apparently some of the protestors have signs decreeing non-violence. Let’s hope it sticks.
Because the fact is, these public employees have a just cause that goes well beyond the land of cheddar.
Straight and simple, the budget cuts the state is trying to vote on, which would cut health and pension benefits, are not the core issue.
Included in the vote is something that is very important to anyone currently holding, or hoping someday to again hold, a job. Let’s cut the bullshit and call it what it is:
Wisconsin Governor Scott Walker is union busting.