Live for the Moment?

 

Remember when you were a little kid and you were so full of plans you could barely sit still? You could hardly gulp down your dinner you were so looking forward to running across the street to play with your pal Suzie or Joe? How you fell asleep dreaming of being a superhero, the Lone Ranger, Wonder Woman or maybe even Richard Simmons? 😉 You just couldn’t wait to get to tomorrow.

Then what happened? You grew up, right? Suddenly you were living for today. You couldn’t bear thinking past the here and now. Too many things could go wrong, the job sucks, you’re not doing what you want to do, you’re not living your dream…maybe you don’t even think about your dreams that much anymore. And maybe even your dreams have diminished – you no longer dream of making the world your oyster – you’d be happy if you were a couple of payments ahead on the mortgage and if you could go a whole month without car trouble. Sound familiar?

Living life takes so much time and trouble, there is little room for the dreams big or small. You’re stuck. You’re here and that’s pretty much all you can deal with. And maybe you don’t mind too much – you’ve grown up now – the dreams well…they were kidstuff – not realistic – a lot of trouble for too little return. You’ve found a comfortable spot in the present and now take that familiar ride day in and day out.

But you know…I think that’s what’s wrong with most of us. Why we’re so damned tired at the end of the day. Why life’s ups and downs drive us nuts. We’re stuck in the present. We’re neurotic. We obsess, we worry, we fret, we bitch, moan and complain. There isn’t enough time in the day, enough days in the week, enough weeks in the month, enough months in the year to really get to anything done that hasn’t posed itself as some sort of daily emergency.

Tune ups, parent-teacher meetings, grocery shopping, meal cooking, child care, laundry, dental appointments and more eat up the day and keep us stuck. In our heads, in our lists, in our never-ending tedious day to day lives. There’s just nothing left at the end of the day.

But I don’t think it’s supposed to be that way. Seriously, when you think about it, isn’t life really about the future? Isn’t it about the plans we make to conquer this or that? Own this or that? Master this or that? Be this or that? Even if you break it down – why are you working today if not to at least put food on the table tomorrow? Why are you getting up today if you aren’t planning to go from point A to point B as the day progresses? You eat so you’ll be alive tomorrow, you exercise so you can fit into that pair of jeans tomorrow or next week or next month, yes? I think you do. I think you have to. I think that if one doesn’t have the purpose of creating tomorrow there is no today or maybe there is only today.

 So I have to disagree with all those nifty greeting cards and posters and cardboard characters in movies that laud the philosophy of living for the moment – live for today – carpe diem and all that crap. If you live for the moment then what happens to you when the moment has passed? Ah…right you go on to the next moment – and that is the future, isn’t it?

By and large, I think that’s what’s been bugging me lately. I’ve been so stuck in the here and now that thinking about tomorrow hasn’t even been an option. So worried about this thing or that thing that even thinking got to be too painful. It’s just been all about getting through the day or the moment. Making it through with minimal damage, injury and disaster. And frankly, that ain’t no way to live – I think it’s a trap. I think that there are people out there who want to convince you and me that living for the moment is all we get. All we’re entitled to.

Now why would someone want that, you’d probably ask. Good question. Simple answer could be power. There are people in the world who want to control things, people, events. Some do it on a grand scale and some on a small scale but they do it. The boss that is hypercritical until you are so apathetic and co-dependent that thinking an original thought much less saying it out loud never happens anymore. The nagging spouse who thinks every creative thing you want to do is stupid or crazy. The friend who tells you to get a grip when you voice one of your whacky ideas. Yeah, they all want you to live in the moment – they want you to stay stuck in each and every moment – because if you don’t why hell you might actually create something – might actually cause some effect on the world. Which of course might give you some control of your own life.

I admit it’s not easy to live for the future. It’s hard work to battle all the resistance and inertia that abounds all around you. Just think back on last week during the ‘holiday’ did you try to get something done? Did it feel like you were dancing in peanut butter? There you go. It’s tough – people get grumpy – you get grumpy but you have to do it. If you don’t the future, just happens to you and when that happens it’s never a future of your making – it is the future that has been made for you.

Personally, I prefer to make my own. So, I’m going to give that a whirl. I’ll probably fall flat on my face because between you and me I’ve been at this a long time – but if I’m going to fall flat on my face I want to be the one who put me there. Wish me luck.

WC

Burn in Hell Saddam

May he burn in the fires of Hell for all eternity. Saddam is dead. And may this be the end of rape rooms, mass graves, mass murder and genocide in Iraq.

Read it here.

Although there are many more monsters in the world – I can still be thankful that this monster is gone. Amen.

WC

What a Life

You know, I have this talent for pulling in the most annoying people on the planet. I’m not sure if it’s that I’m bored and need fodder for this blog and other writing endeavors or if I have royaly crappy luck.

And usually this talent manifests itself at work. I’ll give you three examples:

First there was know-it-all-Nora. We needed an admin assistant – a nice name really for a gopher. Somebody to do all the stupid crap that nobody else wants to do. Get my drift? So we decided to hire the daughter of a friend of mine. Though I hadn’t seen her in many years she seemed to have matured quite a bit and I was happy to give her a job. Within about 48 hours it started to become a problem.

I would ask her to write a letter. A no brainer activity since we have templates we use for various types of letters to clients and prospects. You simply plug in the name and the job into the template, print it out – print an envelope and you’re done. Well Nora didn’t like that at all. No, she felt that a different font was in order and that for some reason we needed to print the postal bar code on the envelope. And then there was the wording which she felt she could truly improve upon. No matter how many times I told her that the owner wanted things the way they were and wanted the letters done as I showed her she would not relent.

Out of frustration, I let it slide. I just rewrote the letters when she wasn’t around. I asked her to update the database. Call past clients and verify addresses, make any changes and let me know her progress on a weekly basis. Instead I discovered she was simply calling people and having nice long chats with them. The database was never done and I ended up having to verify everything she’d reported as done.

It got unbearable when she started issuing orders to me. Now, you don’t really know me but if you’ve read this blog for any length of time you probably know I wouldn’t take kindly to this sort of thing. The fit hit the shan as they say – and after lots of stupid touchy feely, let’s just all get along crap from the owners, they finally saw the light and gave Nora the boot. After a couple of weeks my jaw unclamped and harmony returned to the universe.

A few months later, our bookeeper who is a heck of a gal had a death in the family and was quite understandably overwhelmed by the loss. She gave her notice and left. We scrambled but managed to find another bookeeper who had all the markings of a damn fine replacement. Well that illusion lasted about two weeks.

One of the owners started coming to me and showing me the many emails Sylvania was sending him. She was advising him to fire employees who had worked for them for years (literally), insisting they had to join a businessmen’s association or she could no longer work for them, taking it upon herself to compose marketing letters and campaigns and basically refusing to have anything to do with the books and the keeping thereof.

She was so intimidating that the owners were scared of her and kept at me to do something with her. I of course recommended firing her, which they just couldn’t do. No they, being the bastions of bravery that they are preferred people to fire themselves. Yes, that’s the ticket. If you just let them stay on and wreak havoc with your business until they are as miserable as they have made everyone else then they will finally just leave.

I must admit, that in a way it sort of worked. Suddenly she was cutting back her hours and confiding in me that the owners were crazy. I had to agree with her but for reasons she was unaware of, like the fact that they were still signing her paychecks for example.

Suddenly the other job she managed to land wasn’t as rosey as she thought it would be and voila she increased her hours again.

She had all manner of advice for me. What I should be doing, who I should be marketing to, how I should be handling the employees and the owners and what we would have to do to put the place in order. Not to mention the fact that she had the resident carpenter in a rage over completely manufactured maniacal intent on the part of the owners.

Little did she know that the previous bookeeper was a neighbor of mine and she and I had had several talks. And I was quietly working on getting her to come back to work.

Well, finally the bosses had had enough of her when she sent them over 10 emails on the same thing. They begged me to tell them how to handle these incessant emails (now mind you, her office was but 25 steps from theirs and an email was completely unnecessary) and I told them to go and talk to her about them in person. But they were afraid.

I’ll admit Sylvania from Transylvania was creepy and had that kind of smile that made you wonder if she carried a big knife behind her back – but the two of them could have taken her.

Finally I told them that the previous bookeeper was interested in coming back to work for them. Overjoyed, they told her that they were laying her off. They volunteered to write a letter of recommendation – but she left so fast they had hardly started to compose it. With good reason, we later discovered – as she had messed up the sales tax – tax report, hadn’t recorded the income properly, had all the files mixed up (which took weeks for our returned bookeeper to sort out) and apparently had no idea to use Quick Books. How we managed to avoid bouncing checks and screwing everything up completely during her tenure, I’ll never know.

Now to our current jerk in residence. Rodney the genius. Now Rodney is a crackerjack craftsman and that’s good since that is what he was hired to do. He makes amazing models and props and works efficiently and ably. All good, right?

Not so much. Apparently Rodney has too damn much time on his hands because he is constantly making ‘suggestions’ as to what marketing should be done, how we should handle clients, and the ways in which we can drum up some business. Did I mention this is a guy who makes props and sculptures and so forth? And that he wasn’t hired to do anything administrative whatsoever? I mean I don’t know when he does all that prop making since he is constantly in my face about who, what, where and why. And he absolutely must interupt the morning meeting to ask questions that could surely wait.

But today took the cake – literally. It happened to be one of the owners birthday. I’ve worked for these guys for 2 1/2 years and we’ve become friends to say the least. I decided that I would do a little something for him and made brownies and got birthday hats, noisemakers, etc. – all silly stuff – just to make him feel good, you know? No big deal.

I let everyone know and at the prescribed time we all gathered. Well silly other boss got some very quick burning candles and they started to melt all over the brownies -so we stepped up the singing. And I told birthday boss to blow out the candles. But old Rodney screamed “No! We have to sing right first.” So they like the goofy bots that they are did. And of course the brownies were covered with wax.

Which I have to say really pissed me off. I mean, who the hell is he? This was my party, I made it, literally, I paid for it – he had no place to open his big yap about anything except to stuff some brownies in it.

You may think I’m being petty and maybe I am – but this shit really pisses me off. I mean what is it about my stupid-ass job that has people lusting after it? Surely it isn’t the fame. Definitely not the pay and from the looks of things, not the respect. So WTF is it? Do they know something I don’t know? Am I about to win the fricking lotto? Am I about to become the most famous lucky person on the planet? Is my measly, insignificant job so fricking appealing that they are staying up nights trying to think of ways to take it from me by using their exemplary intellectual and strategic skills? Or are there just a lot of pathetically insecure people who think that the grass is greener?

I’ll tell you what though…if Rodney or anybody else pulls this crap again, I’m handing them my clipboard and phone and going after their fricking job. If I screw it up, so what? They didn’t want it anyway in the first place right?

WC

Hotmail Sucks

Okay, so this weekend, I am minding my own business – darting about – checking this and that. Then in a split second I can’t access my hotmail account.

It started out innocently enough. I got the usual ‘server too busy’ page, so I decided to try later. Well later on, same thing. A little more annoyed, I went about my business – worked on this and that. Came back, now it was a whole new thing – ‘hotmail temporarily unavailable.’ Okay gritting my teeth now.

Now granted I used the hotmail account for non-essential mail. Various Enewsletters, Amazon email reference but also a few friends contacted me that way – and it was my backup should my main address go kaput. So it wasn’t vital. But on the weekends I like to read my newsletters, and the various other type of stuff that comes into that box and here I was unable to access it. So much for my coffee and catching up on my reading.

I contacted help from msn and essentially based on their advise I needed to completely reconfigure my security settings, my lan settings and various other bullshit things. Which in essence was inferring I was some kind of fricking idiot who had somehow managed to do something stupid to my computer because I had to reset the settings. Of course the fact that I’d done nothing at all to change anything was utterly irrelevant to help and they promptly ignored my response which granted wasnt’ all that polite. Basically I told them to forget about it, I wasn’t going to reconfigure my computer so I could get fricking hotmail to open.

I tried the entire day and the entire next day. Sunday things changed a little. Suddenly I was getting these cute little pop-ups prompting me to download the latest version of Internet Explorer. “Ah,” I thought, “so that’s what is going on.”

Now it’s bad enough that fricking, ugly ass Bill Gates has permeated just about every aspect of my modern life. That I can’t even get a decent word processing program because his company has convinced everyone that being an idiot is cool and a fricking animated paper clip knows quite a bit more than they do. And that I can’t no matter what I do actually get rid of Internet Explorer and it’s a ram whore – but now if I want to access a stupid ass hotmail account I have to download more of his idiotic mediocricy laden programs. They should rename that thing to Idiot Explorer if you ask me.

But…I digress. So these nifty little pop ups keep nagging me and nagging me. OOoooh download me. Ooooh, you want your hotmail mail doncha? Come on, just click yes or I will drive you insane by popping up every time you click on any fricking thing. I’m gonna gitcha!

I ignored it and it wasn’t easy since that little bastard was really getting on my nerves. Instead, I waited until this morning. I knew I could access hotmail on my Mac at work (finally a reason I was glad to have a Mac at work) which I did.

I cleaned up my files, downloaded my address book, deleted everything and told them to stick it.

Ironically, ten minutes later yet another ‘help’ person sent me an email with even more nifty instructions on how to reinvent my computer so I could access hotmail. I told her she was a nice person but she could stick it too.

Out went a gang email to friends and bloggers for gmail invites and in they came. So, I’m now on the G-train and happy as a pig in shit.

Hot mail can bite me. Bill Gates can bite me. And if I never have to deal with another microsoft program or website or browser I will be a happy woman.

WC

Can You Say Rant?

I’m Pissed! (About things big & small and in no particular order)

(Warning, may contain mature language and unintelligible mutters)

I’m pissed that some people drive slow in the fast lane.

I’m pissed that the price on the shelf is not the price at the cash register

I’m pissed that every country in the world expects the U.S. to bail them out when they are in trouble but have no compunction about criticizing our every move, action, utterance.

I’m pissed that the people who are given the most, whine the loudest. (And I don’t mean people who earn what they have – I’m talking about takers who think you owe them something because they are pathetic)

I’m pissed that people don’t have the brains that God gave them.

I’m pissed that the ACLU defends people against the United States

I’m pissed that the same people who insist my taxes need to be raised give themselves a raise every year.

I’m pissed that there are so damned many mini malls.

I’m pissed that somebody else thinks they can decide if I can smoke, eat junk food, have health coverage, be able to keep my property, but don’t hold themselves up to the same scrutiny.

I’m pissed that there are some people out there who actually forward the idea that 911 was perpetrated by the government. And even more pissed that other people believe them.

I’m pissed that a foreign national illegally in my country can break a law that I would be sitting in jail for if I broke the same law.

I’m pissed that there are Jew haters in the world.

I’m pissed that some people think that killing non-believers will send them to heaven.

I’m pissed that my hair won’t do what I want it to.

I’m pissed that many Americans have forgotten September 11th and think we are to blame for what happened.

I’m pissed that Michael Moore, Cindy Sheehan and Jimmy Carter are shown more courtesy than the men and women fighting to maintain their freedom of speech.

I’m pissed that movies are stupid, make no sense, are littered with unintelligible political ‘message’ and I have to pay $10 to see the crap.

I’m pissed at all the conspiracy theorists in the world.

I’m pissed that people don’t have any common sense.

I’m pissed that people are more concerned with who is calling them on their cell phones than their children who are crawling around whatever restaraunt, theater or vehicle they happen to be in.

I’m pissed that celebrities are quoted when they voice their stupid-ass, uninformed opinions and reporters treat it like it’s news.

I’m pissed that some politicos are more interested in removing God from my life than protecting my country.

I’m pissed that people aren’t more pissed about this stuff.

And finally, I’m pissed because I didn’t know all this shit when I was 25.

Anybody else pissed? Feel free to join the rant! Rock on!

WC

Could be a PR Problem

A new article on World Net Daily entitled, Internet, Talk Radio Blamed for ‘Anti-muslim Violence’ has CAIR discussing how they believe that Talk Radio and the Internet are giving Muslims a bad name.

Some choice quotes from the article:

“A leading U.S. Islamic lobby group blames a purported rise in anti-Muslim harassment, violence and discriminatory treatment on the Internet and talk radio.”

and

“Hooper, nevertheless, charged the federal “Patriot Act” – laws designed to give authorities more resources to fight terrorism – has targeted Muslims unfairly.In its 2004 report, CAIR also claimed a “sharp jump” in “Islamophobic hate crimes” and blamed talk radio.”

Now call me crazy, but I’m thinking that it’s really things like this

(I believe that is an American Flag)

and perhaps this:

(this is a mock-up of the Pope)

And this:

(I’m thinking Israel)

And this:

(Not my kind of party)

And of course this celebratory impromptu pic on Sept 11th:

(they have a funny way of mourning)

And then there are their particular child-rearing philosophies:

Do you think that maybe, just maybe it’s these and countless other examples that make people think there is something to fear?

Me? I’m thinking it’s a definite PR problem and they need to get better photographers or better subjects. What do you think?

WC

License to Survive????

In today’s world of politically correct dictates, nanny governments, and the propensity to lawsuits it makes you wonder if you, the individual, have the right to survive on your own terms anymore.

Honestly, I don’t want to be one of those boring, old dinosaurs who laments the good old days. Really I don’t….BUT not so long ago…

Competition was a good thing

Ambition was encouraged

And moving out on your own was expected. Not just by your parents but by yourself. You wanted to make your way in the world. You wanted to prove that you could.

The whole idea used to be that you wanted something and you worked for it. And usually you worked your ass off for it. And people actually admired you for all that hard work and go-getted-ness (nope, I don’t think that’s a word). Nobody but nobody felt sorry for you because you didn’t get a 10 minute break every three hours. Or sick days, or personal days, or paid vacations.

You didn’t need health insurance because you had a family doctor whom you could afford to see because they weren’t required to carry a million dollars in malpractice insurance.

If you were broke or needed more money you took a second job – you did not move back in with mom and dad. You did not go down to get food stamps. You did not panhandle at your local 7-11.

Teenagers were typically able to spell their own names and master basic math. They didn’t need their own cell phone, personal computer, $150 sneakers, Starbuck coffee cards or a personal trainer. They didn’t get chauffered all over hell and creation by their parents – they walked, rode their bikes or took the bus. They were self-reliant.

Now? Now the government, the ACLU, PETA, Al Gore, The Surgeon General, your neighbor, The Guardian, (fill in the blank) tells you what you can and cannot eat, drink, inhale, breathe, think, and believe. We mustn’t think original thoughts, lest someone feel left out. We mustn’t have our own opinions lest someone feel disenfranchised. We mustn’t be ourselves, lest we earn, own, excel, have more than the collective. Competition is bad because then someone loses and that’s not fair. It hurts someone’s feelings. Ambition is bad because you’re sure to use oil or smoke cigarettes, drive a gas-guzzling vehicle, vote Republican or eat junk food because of all the stress – and apparently that affects others adversely. Your children must never be raised by you but be raised by the whole damned village!

I’m asking – are you sick of it? Doesn’t it make you want to scream? Aren’t you tired of asking others for permission to survive? To live your life the way you want to? Believe what you want to believe. Eat food that tastes good? Smoke a cigarette without feeling like a criminal? Are we meece or men? I’m just wondering.

(Though I originally posted this on Smoke & Mirrors while guest blogging, it’s one of my favorite rants, so I thought we could revisit it. What fun!)

Cream Boogers

Okay, so have you ever stumbled into your favorite coffee shop – no, I don’t mean Starbucks – I mean a real, honest-to-goodness coffee shop, diner, greasy spoon – and sat down at your favorite table yearning for your first cup of coffee? The waitress finally saunters over after flirting with the big tippers or the cook, whoever is cuter and says, “Coffee?”

“Yes,” you stammer and try not to sound too needy. She nods and does the bump-grind-sashay, bump-grind-sashay across the room (the coffee pot is always across the room, apparently it’s a rule) and grabs the pot. If you’re lucky, it’s the one that hasn’t been sitting on the burner for the last three hours and holds the remnants of the coffee syrup that has formed. Another regular walks in and she stops, flirts, kind of swaying the pot with her index finger. You watch, mesmerized as the coffee does a little splish-splash and you’re starting to feel a little sea-sick.

Finally, she remembers why she has the coffee pot and does the bump-grind-sashay, bump-grind-sashay back to your table. You hold out your cup greedily. She pours, splashing a little on your fingers but you hold back the wince. “Want anything else?” she asks though you know she doesn’t want to bring you anything else anyway.

“Not right now,” you say to her back as she goes away.

Now you have what you want – you’ve only to doctor it to the special sweetness and lightness and then you can whip out your notebook and pen and sip as you contemplate the world and all its woes. You like the raw sugar but your table doesn’t have any in the stupid little, square white container. You scan the other square containers on the other tables til you zero in on it. Ah hah! You snag the whole thing because you know there will be refills to consider. Next and most importantly, the creamer. Now, the reason you go to this diner in the first place is because they use the real stuff. Not that white junk they make out of coconut oil and chemicals – nope this is real half and half. Not fat-free something, or Cremora or low-fat milk or 2%. Not any of that garbage! The real thing. The stuff that comes out of the cow – nature’s coffee companion. Yes!

Naturally, your creamer is empty. Again the eye scan kicks in for full creamer within reach. Thank God, there is one at the next table. Got it! You take it by its dainty handle and tip it ever so nice. I like to hold it high above the cup and watch the white liquid flow and finish it with a little hand flourish (okay, I have too much invested in the Food Channel). Just as it begins to pour into your coffee you see it. The thing. That little globule poised ever so tenuously at the very tip of the spout. “Oh Christ, it’s a cream booger!” you cry but too late. It’s made the journey with the rest of the cream into your coffee cup.

Dilemma. Do you drink it and hope it slides down with the first gulp or do you fish it out with your spoon? Either way the idea of how long it took the cream booger to form, what bacterial varmits may be playing hopscotch inside it makes your mind churn. Are your antibodies at the ready? Can they kill the little bastard once it makes its journey through your small intestine? Is this where Avian Flu really comes from? Yet another trickle-down effect of Global Warming? I mean, cripes where is Al Gore when you need him? And is it me, or has Al been having a little too much half and half in his coffee lately?

You peer into your coffee and there it is, doing a lazy backstroke in your wake-up juice. You squint your eyes and could swear that it winks and waves and is singing some old Simon & Garfunkel song. Eh. You shrug. Put the cup to your lips and drink it down. “Ah, morning coffee! Nothing like it. Oh waitress….”

(This is the post that started the whole blogging thing rolling. Thought it might warrant a re-post here -originally posted on Smoke & Mirrors while guest blogging)

News Flash!!!!!

Wow, this is hot off the press. Mike Wallace – older-than-dirt 60 Minutes has-been reporter – says that the Prez (can a dictator be a President?) Of Iran (that haven of democracy) is a big, warm, fuzzball. Yep, that’s right. All this time we thought Prez Ah-mean-a-jihad was this big ol’ fucking vicious, Jew-hating, son-of-a-whore, annihilation-aspiring scumbag and it turns out he is the Mr. Rogers of the Middle-fucking-East. Go figure!

Highlights from Wallace: (Prez Ah-mean-a-jihad) Doesn’t actually want to wipe Zionists off the map – no! He just wants them to go back to Germany where they belong. And he can’t for the life of him figure out why the Jews don’t wanna go. Could it be that maybe they just don’t trust the Germans all that much? I mean aren’t those damned hell-hole concentration camps still there? Don’t they use them as tourist attractions or something? Sure, let’s all go back to Germany where we have nothing and there just happens to be a new Nazi movement – and leave this haven we have created by our blood, sweat and tears and just give it to the benevolent Middle-fucking-Easterners. That should work.

You see, Ah-mean-a-jihad just doesn’t want them in his neighborhood. So when he said he wanted to wipe them out, he just meant in his immediate community. Sorry, did I miss the sales transaction where Iran (the haven of Democracy and Human Rights) now owns the Middle-fucking-East? Oh and Wallace went on to tell us about what a smart guy Ah-mean-a-jihad-carebear is. He’s thoughtful, he’s a professor at the local college (the better to indoctrinate the children), his answers were measured and hey, he gave some really enlightened responses. A real reasonable, rational, charming guy by all accounts.

Oh and get this – he has Jews in his Administration. How is that for an equal opportunity employer? I mean, what a guy. Of course, Wallace had it wrong. It’s not Jews plural, it’s Jew singular. But hey, it’s a start right. I mean maybe next year they’ll have a Jewess in the postal service or something. Oh and he does have 25,000 Jews living in Iran and they’re not dead yet, so you see he really is giving them a fair shake. Jews are okay, Zionists, not so much. I’m confused though, what is the diff? Is it the color of the burkah? If somebody knows, please enlighten me.

There was a downside though. He doesn’t like America. Damn it to hell! Yep, he just take exception to our friendliness to the Zionists. Just too much. Though on a higher note, he feels sorry for Bush cuz his poll numbers are down. And how sad for Bush. Talk about a guy who can see two sides of an issue, eh? Wow. I know I’m impressed. Yep in Wallace’s words, Ah-mean-a-jihad is more reasonable, perfectly sensible, smart and savvy. I mean what more could you want in a tyrannical monster? I ask you.

So in the koolaid-drenched, insanely proper world of Mike Wallace we have nothing to fear. Good news, huh?

Oh and one more thing. I just recieved an email from a friend that contains pictures of ‘punishment’ imposed on an 8 year old boy for stealing bread from the marketplace. They ran a fucking jeep over the kid’s arm. That’s right, you read it right. I couldn’t bear to post the pictures here but I’ll be happy to forward the email to anyone who would want to see it. They say a picture is worth a thousand words. They can say that again. Nothing to fear? Gimme a fucking break!

WC