Happy to see the End

of 2006. Years ending with the number six seem, for whatever
reason, to have been a little unkind to me and to those I love
(at least if 1996 and 2006 have been any indication), so I'm
glad to see it out the door. Just to Celebrate, we opened a
bottle of wine that I received as a gift in '96, quite possi-
ly, oh hell -- hands down the worst year of my life -- and
drank down all of the bad luck. I'm reckless with luck that
way, walking under ladders, opening umbrellas indoors... I
fully expect we drained all of the bad luck of that year, and
this past year, a pale shadow in the misery department, but
not a real peach of a year nonetheless, last night.

Oh, and Steve called. Kind of a calculated thing on his part,
using Christmas to soften me up before calling to see if I'm
still mad at him, but anyway. Have to give him points for be-
ing smart about it. I would have done the same thing in his
shoes.

Waiting for Valerie

So my best friend is coming over because I am SO LONELY with-
out Dylan, who is with his dad in Austin. I'm driving in on Wednes-
day or Thursday though - whenever I can get business finished up
here. I have a lot of loads to get straight for the end of next week.
Things that definitely need to be run and billed out before the end
of the year if I'm going to break even this month. Oy. Capitalism,
gotta love it.

Then in January we have the poultry convention in Atlanta. That's
always a rollicking good time, what with everyone trying to drink
each other under the table. Oh and this year there will be the spe-
cial added pressure of trying to both outmaneuver and stay away
from my old boss. Although, I have a broker coming in from Ohio.
He's a pretty big guy, former ball player and whatever. I guess he
can help play keepaway. I'm a little nervous about the whole thing
quite honestly.

I DO have the tits though! Wonder if anyone will notice? That's
just a joke. The poultry industry is very small when it comes to
gossip and there aren't that many women in sales. They'll notice.

I am really self-absorbed aren't I? Yes. Ok. Now that we've had
that brief moment of uncomfortable self-enlightenment, let's
move on, because it was really yucky.

So the running of loads is really a painstaking and thankless task,
which is why, I suppose, I make money doing it. But this week
its going to also be almost impossible to pull off what with the
holidays. Plants will try to (try? Hell, they out and out will ship
the incoming meat short, so there won't be enough product to
run. I can predict that at the outset). Then on top of that, I have
to have a truck pick up breading Wednesday night which may or
may not really be ready on time. I mean it should be ready but
hey. Its the fucking holidays. And, I need to find two trucks to
ship to California on Friday and Saturday, again... over the Holi-
days.

And by the way? People aren't just clamoring to leave their fam-
ilies and go driving dead chickens up and down the highways over
Christmas and New Year's. They aren't really lining up. So, it's
a toss-up.

And if I can't pull off all of these runs and all of these trucks?
Well, it's all bad from there.

Umm... Yes

When I said that there would be the occasional dash of wit in my
blog? I did NOT MEAN that it would be RIGHT THERE in the
the header where the very WORD OCCASIONAL has been
spelled incorrectly lo these past however long... (how the hell long
have I been here anyway?) Nevermind. That's not the point.
Not once mind you. Oh no. Twice. How high do you have to be
to do that twice? I'm talking about you not TELLING me vis a vis
that question just in case you were wondering, and not about me
doing it in the first place, although I can see why you might have
been confused.

Are you the same group of people who would let me, your friend,
walk around with parsley in my teeth and not said anything at all!?
Well! Are you? Yes. You are. You are exactly that same group of
friends. I know you well.

I've Heard Rumors

I Know

That I shouldn't say this. It is low and mean and petty. But.
My ex-husband's wife is becoming increasingly large. And
not any more attractive as the years pass. I know this be-
cause I make a sick yearly pilgrimage to the website of which-
ever academic outpost or University they happen to be teach-
ing THIS year just to see. I wonder, as I gaze at her ever
steepening forehead (oh yes, it appears she also suffers from
thin hair and a rather unfortunate case of female pattern bald-
ness, the type that renders the hairline ever higher on the head
of its female sufferers) if this latest move had anything to do
with his penchant for straying from the proverbial fold.

I wonder how many times she's had to tell herself that he
really is just friends with that other, very attractive and
witty female professor. I wonder how she deals with being
just down the hall from him in another office when she sees
female students flocking to the office of the published poet.
I wonder if he ever takes their daughter to his office and lets
any of those students babysit for a little while behind her
back.

I wonder if she has ever used that same daughter to threat-
en him, in desparation, realizing that she really isn't competing
so much with other women after all, but maybe words on a
page or something in his mind, or something so ephemeral
it cannot even be described at all.

And I wonder if she ever thinks about the two little boys and
their respective mothers who came before her, Merry Christ-
mas. Its what you wanted. Now you're there.

You're there Aren't You?

In the secret place.

Maybe.

You are, aren't you! I knew it! See?
You may be able to keep the where
and the what to yourself but I
still got through to you right in the
middle of the commission. Ha!

Yes, you're quite naughty.

hmm... It's so funny to talk to you
when you're there. Doing the secret
thing. So why can't you tell me anyway?

I promise, it will all make sense when it
turns out.

I'll bet it doesn't. I'll bet it doesn't make any
sense at all. I'll probably roll my eyes and tell
you how absolutely stupid and annoying you
were for thinking there was any reason what-
soever for that level of cloak and dagger.

I don't think so.

Uggh! I DO! How much longer?

What?

Oh please, you know perfectly well what. Until I
can know, of course.

I don't know.

Oh come on, give me a ballpark. Days, weeks,
months?

laughter. You know I really can't tell you.
Until it comes together. I have to -
Can I call you later?

Wait, wait. Have I ever told you how much
you sound like Eddie Izzard?

The comedian?

Yes. Him.

I wish I was as funny as him.

You are funny.

I'm an asshole.

No, no, you're not. Not really. You remember
when you were gone...

Yes.

I listened to this Izzard CD - something about
Cake - terribly funny. But,
I was crying the entire time... He
sounded so much like you. I listened to it over
and over again. I thought you -

I know. I'll call you later, I have to go now.

Say No To Steve

So I decided that NOW,
FINALLY, since I have
other assets besides my
hair, then its ok for me
to go auburn again. I
mean, there is a certain
rather larger percentage
of the male population that REALLY DOES PREFER BLONDES.

However, I like myself better with darker hair. In sales, its
unfortunately important to worry a good bit about appearances
and about what the average man might prefer because hey! I sell
to men. Mostly men anyway. Yep, about 98.9% male I would say.

But I've noticed since the enhancements that men aren't really
looking all that much at my hair anymore. Sometimes they seem
to be able to hold an entire conversation with my chest alone. Which
is really funny. I usually get
a lot of flack for being "the
smart girl" (I know, difficult
to believe but true) so its fun-
ny now that it almost doesn't
matter what I say because a
lot of guys aren't hearing a
thing that comes out of my
mouth anyway. Which brings
me to Steve. My Ex. I mean my really EX EX because we split
up two years ago.

We had gotten back together for a romp in the hey the other
night. Right. I said "hey" and not hay. Because hey! It was
pretty good. It was though, I'm sure, completely courtesy of
the new breasts, because its not like it happened BEFORE I
got them. (I've always been known for my brutal self-
honesty and now is no exception.)

So anyway, I figured that was the last of that. Which is ok. I
mean, I DO have a date with an attorney and another date
with a newscaster from Birmingham. But there was some-
thing really comfortable and nice about being with someone
with whom I felt totally comfortable. But then he calls again,
so we agreed to get together. So. I didn't make weekend
plans. I cleaned the house. I even went so far as to think
about, well at least to entertain the thought of thinking
about, wearing the new garter belt and stocking set I'd
bought to go with one of the approximately 25 (yes count
them, TWENTY-FIVE) sexy new bras I've purchased
since the surgery.

And then? Nothing. No phone call. Bubkus. Nada. Zero.
Cero. Zilch. That's right.

So I thought to myself, "Well, he must have another date."
But hey, if he did, he should have TOLD me he had plans
so that I COULD make plans with say, the newscaster.
After all, he lives closer to me than the attorney.

But then I thought, "Is he just being a stupid weenie be-
cause I wrote in my other blog about how the fedex guy
asked me for my phone number?" Which is funny, be-
cause its not as though I'm actually going to go OUT with
the fedex guy, being the elitist snob that I am.

That's right. The gatekeeper to my vagina keeps out all
comers (ha! no pun) without at the very least, a four year
degree. Yes. I know. I just lost readers. So sorry. By-
gones.

Now that I have alienated many of you, let me go on with
my story. Thank you. Ok. So anyway. For whatever
reason, be it poutiness or just that he's got something
else to do, I was inconvenienced. I don't like to be in-
convenienced. No, Steve, NO! Bad Steve. Bye Steve.

Bye Bye Steve, Bye Bye

And also, I will be changing my blogsite because bad
Steve and his family all read my blog. That's right.
Not only did he accidentally forward one of my emails to
everyone who works for the space station program at
NASA, he also gave his family and God knows who else,
my blog address.

Medical Mysteries

So yesterday, all of a sudden, my breasts became very inflamed
and sensitive and red and well... huge. Let me... revise. They
are already quite large now of course, they just became very
swollen.

I was positive I had an infection. I went to get a shot of anti-
biotics from my local doc and also, a prescription for augmentin,
and resolved to see my surgeon next Thursday when I return
from Portland (I leave for Oregon Saturday) or perhaps sooner
should it look like things are worse, tending to streak, etc.

I can generally follow these things pretty well as I've unfor-
tunately been hospitalized with cellulosis before following a
spider bite in Texas.

There was one odd thing that rather argued against infec-
tion. The entirety of both breasts, including the nipples,
felt very sensitive. Almost engorged. Rather as they had
after I'd first had my son and my milk had come in. Odd,
since I was three weeks out from the surgery, and the
swelling had previously diminished. Also, one expects
infections to begin in a more localized area with redness
and swelling and then to move out in various directions
with swelling, and then redness and perhaps even streak-
ing from that area.

In any case, I iced what had become the virtual mountains
on my chest down and went to sleep. Five hours later I
woke with two sodden bag of soggy veggies. The okra will
never be the same.

I had a horrible migraine, which has been par for the
course the past three days. So I opened up a relpax -
one of the newer triptans - and was just about to pop
it into my mouth when clarity hit me like a bolt out
of nowhere. VASODILATER. Oh duh. And double
duh - no pun intended vis-a-vis the two breasts of
course.

I'd taken three relpax, count them, THREE over the
past 36 hours for my horrible migraine. So my blood
was flowing fast and free and more than HAPPY to
settle into my newly implanted and oh so tender boob-
ies.

Sooo... Now I have a raging migraine AND sore breasts
and nothing to take for either except butalbital without
codeine. If things get really bad I suppose I'll go get a
shot at the ER -- Of course, I go to Portland on Satur-
day, so the next few days should be fun.

Seems like since I have relpax listed as a med that I
take for migraines someone would tell me "hey, lay off
of that post op." I'm pretty sure viagra would be out of
the question for the same reason... Not, that I take
viagra, I'm just saying.

For Dr. D

Ok, so about the sex. I got my boobs done. And... they haven't
really hatched yet officially. I mean, I still have the tape
underneath them. They are a D now, but I just know that means
that eventually they will be a C. Which of course, means that
eventually I will have them redone larger. Because. Everyone
does. Once you get them. You want them. BIGGER. LOL

At any rate, they do look great. If um, I do say so.

So of course, 1 1/2 weeks post op, what did I do? Well natur-
ally, I had sex last night. And not just any sex. REALLY GREAT
SEX. With yes, the ex-boyfriend from two years ago.

I have to say though, the really great thing about exes is, that
they already know exactly WHAT TO DO. In bed I mean. I'm never
one of those people who thinks that the hottest sex is the first
time. I mean, the first time CAN be really really hot, but...
when you start to get to know someone and trust them, you can
let yourself go in a way that's different. Also, they KNOW that
you trust them so they feel freer with you too, which is possibly
even more important.

So all of that said, I am NOT a good patient. I am in more pain
than other patients because I've had more surgeries, I have mi-
graines and I take more medication. So... the anesthesiologist
gives me, of all things, fentanyl, which yes, I KNOW you guys love
to use that stuff, right before he wakes me up. You know what
happens with that right? Basically. if they use too much it
can cause respiratory distress and kill you, kind of like that
one nurse did to her patient on purpose? So its a great short
term pain reliever except that you can't use that much of it
due to its potential respiratory issues.

So I tell the nurse in recovery - I'm in pain and I need a shot.
She just says, I'm not allowed to give you anything. Nothing
else, just that. So I try again, I'm in a lot of pain, what do
you mean I can't have anything? You aren't going to be able to
do anything for my pain in here? She says no.

So I said, "Right. Great. Well then, get me my clothes." Be-
cause obviously, I know that I have the demerol/phenergan mix
in the car and if that is all I am going to get then I am going
to get it NOW. So I got up and left. And took three of the lit-
tle pills that I was supposed to take two of - did I mention the
bad patient part? Then promptly called the office back as I
waited in agony for the medication to take effect and asked for
a nurse. To whom I read the riot act. It consisted of, I think,
the fact that they were paid a great deal of money up front for
my surgery, that I have a right to quality care and to be made
comfortable, and everything that I had not been lucid enough to
say when I mumbled for my clothes earlier. As I recall, the
speech lasted some time and Val, my friend driving said, "Oh shit,"
a couple of times during the diatribe.

I hung up and after a while the other medication kicked in to a
level where I could tolerate the pain. Of course, I alternated
it with my own lortab until I got on top of it and once it was
under control its been great from there and now I don't even
need it.

I refused to come in the next day, and came in the day after in-
stead. (I was sulking.) The doctor apologized, started to tell
me about the dangers of fentanyl, I say skip it, I know. Then
he says, so the nurse had to wait a little while. I said, "The
nurse said NOTHING about waiting a little while. The nurse said
that she would not be able to do anything for me." The doctor
groused around a little bit about how the nurse should have got-
ten him. (DUH) And then said that of course they always try to
make their patients comfortable in recovery, etc. I said, I'm
sure that's true and smiled like I really meant it and we both
said bygones and went on with the visit (after all, this man IS
in charge of my tits - its important to play nice with him.)

OH right, well. So back to the sex. I know I'm not supposed
to have sex 1 1/2 weeks post op. We tried very hard not to
umm.... "shake" the "jubblies" too much. Yeah, jubblies is a
new one for me too, I heard my son using it.

Anyway, and there's the fact that I've been working, and reach-
ing, sometimes above my head if nobody else is here, with my
right hand, and... like I said. Bad patient. Therefore, my
left breast is getting soft and dropping beautifully and my
right breast is slightly firmer because I am using my right
arm all of the time. They both look the same though and I'm
starting to massage...

But anyway. There it is. The sex.

La Reve

This story is truly almost painful to read. But I love the way
Nora tells it in this truly gossipy and yet at the same time kind of
touching way:

The Picasso

My condolences to Steve Wynn

Here's the Sex Part

Ok, its only kind of like sex but I do pro-
mise sex in my blog and this may be the
closest we get to it unless I break down
and give my ex-boyfriend from a year
ago a booty call. (Which would never
happen by the way - just in case he's
reading this.)

But anyway, so... I'm getting the girls
done. I'm thinking something in a large
C cup, maybe a small D, but I'm not
sure I can pull that off - have to talk to
the surgeon about it.

He's probably going to think I'm really
weird because I've gone on an actual
umm... tittie hunt. So I have all of
these photos of what I like to call:
"Acceptable Breast Outcomes"
that I'd like to show the guy.

You know, kind of like if you were re-
doing the kitchen, you'd call the con-
tractor in and say, ok I'd like the
cabinets to be done in a dark satin
stain and to hang exactly 1 1/2" from
the floor, and NOT crooked either mind
you, I want those puppies straight and
aligned. The cabinets I mean.

Right. Okay. So I want my cabinets
hung MUCH higher than that. I mean,
they're already hung, I'd just like them
ENHANCED.

Anyway, the doctor I'm going to go to
was a sculptor before he became a sur-
geon and he has a certain aesthetic that
I really like.

So Cool!

See now, I worked for Child Protective Services for ten years
and it would have been so GREAT to have known back then
that there really IS A CURE FOR PEDOPHILIA! That's right
ladies and gentlemen, alcohol rehab! Isn't that wonderful!

Or in the words of TomKat, AMAZING!!! and WONDERFUL!!
I thought so too! Now we can place thousands of children
back with their perpetrating parents and other assorted care-
takers. Wow. How cool is that. Thank you so much Congress-
man Foley for helping us all out with this one. Whew! We
really ought to award some sort of Nobel prize to the man.
At the very least for genius in obfuscation.

Guess what? If you're molested as a child, it is NO excuse to
molest someone else's child nor your own children. It does
not and should not offer you a get-out-of-jail-free card or even
one iota of sympathy for your actions as an adult.

Let's all save our sympathy for the victims of abuse who live
with the aftermath daily but lead caring lives towards others.

I learned two things when I worked as an investigator for
CPS.

1) Victims are so guilt-ridden they frequently feel like per-
petrators even when they are not. True victims seem to
have a sense of guilt about everything. On the other hand,
perpetrators are con artists who will UNCEASINGLY try to
make you feel like they are victims.

We just saw this in spades with Foley. What's his main focus
on, his guilt over damaging white house pages emotionally?
Oh NOOOOOOO! Absolutely not. Just like a true perpe-
trator his focus is on trying to get his "victimhood" out to
us. My alcohol abuse made me do it, I was victimized as a
child.

Well buddy, I've got news for you, there are a lot of drunk
former victims of abuse out there who aren't out there
hunting our children on the Internet. Wanna think about
that one for a minute on your way to your jail cell? I
learned something else too during my tenure with CPS.

2) Rehab of any type, alcohol, psychotherapy or otherwise
does not cure pedophiles. There is one very good therapy
for them though. Shotgun therapy. Best treated early.
Before too much damage is done. To others I mean.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
Oh yes and HASTER? You deserve to go down right along
with him. You are no better than the Catholic diocese who
transferred priests from parish to parish.


SYD-SHAME ON YOU ALL! And THAT my friends, is a
LOT of shame. I learned it from the best.

Remember When?

My dad was in the hospital with his aortic aneurysm and my step-
monster and I were practically coming to blows as I insisted on
staying there with him around the clock and questioning each med
and order that came in?

And she kept saying, Why do you ask so many questions? The
doctors and nurses KNOW what they are doing... Right. Sure.

Read THIS story for just how well they KNOW what they are do-
ing. Statistically, every American going into the hospital has a
number of mistakes per day made with their meds, care etc.
I can't remember the exact number but I'm sure its online
somewhere. Typically though, the mistakes just aren't life-
threatening.

And moreover? I have a few IQ points on a lot of the medical staff.
Plus - every time your nursing staff changes? Do you really think
they take the time to read your entire previous chart in hospital?

Let me just answer that for you. No. They don't. They try to
catch up on your current condition and basic history and current
orders. Try is the operative word here.

But back to the story. Three separate nurses FAILED to notice,
or noticing, failed to question, that the normal heplock given to
at risk preemies was in a dark blue topped vial labeled heparin
instead of a baby-blue vial labeled hep-lock.

See, the IV ports have to be kept open with a teeny amount of
blood thinner. Not, of course, the gargantuan amount of blood
thinner one would give to say -- an adult suffering from a
pulmonary embolism. So those little preemies bled to death.

So me? Stepmother or not, I'm going to keep right on bitching
and asking questions while in the hospital. Both on behalf of
myself and my relatives.

R-E-S-P-E-C-T

I can't believe I've resorted to blogging about past American
Idols, but there you have it. Here goes:

Apparently ---> Clay Aiken Deserves Some Respect


Actually, Clay Aiken seems like a niceish sort of guy but...

Yeah, you knew the but was coming right?
I'd have more respect for him if he just said to the "gay question"
one of three things, and truthfully mind you.
1) yes
2) no
3) none of your bleeping business, next person to ask me gets a
hatchet to the head.

Secondly, is there some moral high ground to taking paxil but NOT
going to therapy along with it? Since when is it somehow "holier"
to go it on your own rather than get very good psychotherapy or
counseling? PARTICULARLY if you are experiencing something
that could really be helped via psychotherapy, like anxiety at-
tacks? Or would you just prefer to pop paxil the remainder of
your life and live with your panic attacks? I wasn't aware that
attendance at counseling sessions was such a shameful thing in
the first place, so I just find his position on this topic odd
in this regard. But... Whatever. To each their own and all
of that rot.

Anyway, yes yes, nice guy, beautiful voice, I just wish he wasn't
so namby pamby sometimes. But then again, I'm probably just not
taking into account his sensitivity.

He is gay after all.

STOP THE PRESSES!!!

I AGREE WITH THE W ON SOMETHING!

WHAT!!!???

This can only mean that the shrubster is going insane. I mean,
we already know that I'm insane. Ergo --- See?

Kind of it was only a matter of time though. We ARE both
from Texas. Well, he's at least as much from Texas as I am.

But the Baby Bush had a press conference yesterday and in it
he said something akin to the following (I'm going to paraphrase
of course because my brain is far from being memorex about
anything anyone says (unless, of course, they happen to be dat-
ing me at the time. Then, I'm lethal.)

Anyway, W said that he was in opposition to the 700 mile long
fence that would separate us from Mexico because what we real-
ly need is a piece of legislation that presents a comprehensive so-
lution to the illegal immigration problem. (no shit, he said the
word comprehensive.)

He said that Mexicans come here temporarily to work and they
do jobs that Americans do not want to do and that also, some of
them, some 10-11 million of them in fact, are living here with
their families and have had children here and that to suddenly
just construct a fence and to try to find and throw out 10-11 mil-
lion people from just ONE country with no guest worker program
in place is a little how shall we say, ambitious? foolhardy? silly?
STUPID? Doesn't make much sense?

He didn't even get into what I think and what I feel he knows are
the even larger questions of, how would you fund it? What about
the illegal aliens from Canada, Armenia, Yugoslavia and all of the
other countries who number in the millions themselves? Why
are we picking out one country? What of the cost of manu-
factured goods when we "throw out" the people who are making
things for us (like chicken for example) for $8 an hour when we
can't get our own folks to work for that price. And hey, if you can
find folks to do that, send them to Georgia and Alabama, we could
use the labor.

Boycott Max Factor

Not that I use their tacky cosmetics anyway, but... apparently
SOMEONE has been spreading the cash around because for
SOME reason our "own," oh wait, our own? are we really sure
about that? ostensibly our United States Marshalls (or people
dressed just like them) have arrested Duane "Dog" Chapman,
the bounty hunter who went to Mexico in 2003 to arrest Max
Factor heir Andrew Luster.

Many of you may remember this story, which is rather infa-
mous in the annals of "true crime" lore. Luster had, at the
time, been arrested and was in the midst of a rather lurid trial
on charges that he had, over a period of time, drugged several
young women and then filmed himself whilst raping them in his
home. Since he taped the encounters, he literally handed the
state the evidence against him.

Several of the young women were teenagers during the time
that the crimes occurred. Most had no idea that they had been
violated until word of the case's investigation leaked into the
press and they were contacted by the police and the D.A. and
they were both horrified and traumatized to find both that they
had been assaulted and that it had been captured for posterity
by Luster.

As I recall, Luster maintained a fairly arrogant and smarmy at-
titude during the trial but as the victims testified and the video
tapes were played he could see the reactions of complete disgust
on jurors faces as it became obvious to just what extent he had
damaged the girls. One morning defense counsel came to court
and his client did not show, having fled to Mexico.

Mexican authorities did not seem to be able to help the U.S. auth-
orities to locate Andrew Luster, but the trial continued in his ab-
sence, and he was sentenced to 124 years behind bars.

A manhunt ensued, a serious one. Nobody wanted an Ira Einhorn
type of deal where we waited years for justice.

Enter "THE DOG."

Apparently, although nobody in Mexico knew where Luster
was, our own Duane Chapman, longtime bounty hunter dubbed
"The DOG" for short, had received a tip and had a good lead on
Luster's . And he was just the the right man for the job. An ex-
con himself, Chapman had gone straight and was putting his
knowledge to good use. He was willing to help give people a
fresh start, a second chance - but he could also use his own
knowledge gained on the inside and from hunting down other
inmates to help him find Luster.

The Mexican government, it would appear, was not so happy
to have the DOG's help:

STORY HERE

Well gee whiz. Had Luster been a citizen of MEXICO, the Mexi-
can authorities might have a bit of a better case but hello, he is
a US citizen. He is now back here, where he belongs, IN JAIL.
For a LONG time.

Can't imagine George W. is allowing our US Marshalls to be used
for this purpose, but then again, I can't imagine why he does a lot
of things.

And WHY cooperate with Mexico in arresting someone for bring-
ing back one of our own citizens for the prosecution of a crime he
committed here in the United States? If Scott Peterson had made
it across would have just kissed him goodbye and bid him adieu?
Has our government just gone just completely insane? That was
a rhetorical question just in case anyone was wondering.

Yesterday we found out that we DIDN'T fire on armed insur-
gents for some reason that nobody I know (liberal or conserva-
tive) can quite comprehend even though we could have done
with no loss of life to our own troops or collateral damage to ci
ties or daycares or the like.

Now today, we find out that we've arrested one of our own citi-
zens at the behest of another country so that we can EXTRA-
DITE him to that other (other meaning you know, "foreign")
country so that they can prosecute him for kidnapping one our
citizens. Oh, and by kidnapping I do actually mean retrieving
that citizen from the foreign country and bringing him back to
the United States for the lawful imprisonment for the heinous
crime of which he was legally convicted under United States
law. Guy should get a medal.

P.S. Yes I KNOW. The "DOG" and his ensemble are a little,
well... But anyway. Love 'em. Can't help it. I'm addicted.

Syd's Weekend Film Pick

Loved this film. Under the guise of a documentary, this black co-
medy:

Mail Order Bride

Is so exceptionally well-made that it took me 3/4 of the the film
to realize that it was not, indeed, an actual documentary. Very,
very coy and funny film.

Oh Man

Do you ever just do something really stupid because you're trying
to do something good? But you KNOW at the time that you're
probably being stupid, but you just have no idea until later just
HOW stupid you really were? Yeah. Story of my life. But I'm go-
ing to stop. At least by say... New Year's or so. I'll make it my re-
solution or something.

Agitators

Or as Rodney King might have aptly put it at one point in time...
"Can't we just all get along?"

No but seriously, this is a trend that I've noticed and it disturbs
me. It causes me to question the moral decay and cruelty that ap-
pears to run rampant among more individuals that I'd care to be-
lieve could possibly allow themselves to think and to behave in
this manner. I listen to it on radio shows, see it on chat boards
and talk shows, and in general it just causes me extreme wonder
and, well, dismay.

Or perhaps I'm wrong and I'm just a patsy, a dope who doesn't
"get 'IT'" myself. Perhaps it is all about holding to a certain line
of demarcation come hell or high water. No compassion for your
neighbor and no consideration for what they may or may not
have to go through. Sometimes I feel as though I am incorrect
in my own weakness and these others who seem so sure of them-
selves in their hate are strong.

One thing is certain though, I cannot change how I am. And more
frightening still is the fact that most probably, neither can they.

There are a number of things I do not understand in this world.
I'll begin.

When someone dies, regardless of how you feel about the manner
of their death or whether or not they may have contributed to it in
the manner in which they chose to live their life (extreme sports,
chasing wild animals for the pure love of conservation and nature),
the aftermath of the death is NOT the time to criticize the indivi-
dual, in front of his or her family and friends for safety standards
in which you feel they should have been more observant. No, in-
deed the time is to reach out and comfort the survivors and re-
member that person for the good he or she did.

I bring you the following boards for an example of some of the
hideous things that have been said following Steve Irwin's (The
Croc Guy's) death.

Steve Irwin

It even looks a bit better now because they've cleaned up many
of the worst posts with people saying, of all things, that they were
glad he was dead.

And then there is Ann Coulter. I don't understand why people
can't disagree about political parties with becoming so vehement-
ly hateful and without slinging the worst type of mud and hate back
and forth. If you have a difference of opinion with someone else over
how the country should be run, why must it be SO VICIOUS?

Ms. Coulter

And... I suppose that is all. For now.

Top Ten

If you have any candidates for the MICHAEL JACKSON FACTOR
list, please feel free to list them in response. Here are my favorite
top ten. In order.

1) Michael Jackson
2) Tom Cruise
3) LaToya Jackson
*If it turns out that LaToya and Michael really are the same
person then you know, mea culpa -- Bygones and all that.
4) Paula Abdul
5) Gary Busey
*I actually sat at La Zona Rosa in Austin next to this guy at the
height of his most OBNOXIOUS (I hope) days. He came in
with some blonde hag of a woman, wasted - and yelled at the
poor waitress, "I told you, NO FUCKING SALT ON MY MAR-
GARITA!!!" Then he proceeded to berate everyone in the
place because they couldn't tell him where Willie Nelson and/
or his picnic was (it was that time of year in Austin). Classy
guy.
6) Star Jones
7) Sean Young
*Remember the James Woods & Catwoman debacles?
Well she is still at her bizarre hi-jinks <--- Oh the humiliation.
8) Ok, so I only got to eight and then I thought about putting
Tara Reid but that seemed a little cruel. I think she may
come around if she ever sobers up.


PLUS - I'm starving and the really cool Chinese restaurant
where I always accidentally leave my cell phone behind is just
down the block...

Syd

The "Michael Jackson Factor"

Yes, yes, yours truly, already famous for such famous terms as
the "mini-cruiser" to describe Tom Cruise & Katie's Holmes then
pending arrival is about to coin another phrase.

Listen carefully folks, I like to call this:

The Michael Jackson Factor

The Michael Jackson Factor is a term which shall now be used to
describe any star/entertainer/author/personality who was once
talented and seemingly likable but who has, over a period of
time, become too bizarre and remote for any of us "normal"
(cough) people to consider them to be an actual member of the
human race any longer.

That is, we can see that they appear to breathe and eat and emi-
nate with some features that would appear to make them ani-
mate, but then again, that wax figure they just made of of Brit-
ney Spears does have breasts that heave up and down.

Another key component of THE MICHAEL JACKSON FACTOR
is that the entertainer who succumbs appears to have NO IDEA

ABSOLUTELY NONE WHATSOEVER...

That he/she is a narcissistic, unperceptive, moronic twit.