19 December 2013

Holy Stupid...Everything Concerning This Duck Guy

So there I was... sitting in the VA waiting room for-fucking-ever and reading all of the stupid shit people were posting about this Robertson guy from the Duck Dynasty show. In those three plus hours, I was unable to figure out the actual problem, so I gave up. Here's my interpretation:

This Phil guy said some shit about God and gays and terrorists, from what I can decipher. He didn't say we should burn all the gay people at the stake. He didn't say that they should be treated as less than humans. He said this:

"Start with homosexual behavior and just morph out from there. Bestiality, sleeping around with this woman and that woman and that woman and those men. Don't be deceived. Neither the adulterers, the idolaters, the male prostitutes, the homosexual offenders, the greedy, the drunkards, the slanderers, the swindlers—they won't inherit the kingdom of God. Don't deceive yourself. It's not right.
It seems like, to me, a vagina—as a man—would be more desirable than a man's anus. That's just me. I'm just thinking: There's more there! She’s got more to offer. I mean, come on, dudes! You know what I'm saying? But hey, sin: It's not logical, my man. It's just not logical."

Okay, I guess I could see why the GLAAD people were pissy. It was an idiotic statement to make, and it's a pretty fucked up and disgusting point of view, but it's also one that is pretty commonly held.

And then, apparently, the television network guys were all: "Holy shit. That's not good. These GLAAD people are straight pissed. We better take that dude off t.v. for a while... Or forever." Because apparently, putting ignorant hillbillies in the spotlight is only okay if they don't actually say shit that ignorant hillbillies are prone to saying, right? And by ignorant I mean the guy has a fucking Master's degree and built a multimillion dollar dynasty.

AND THEN because people have to have something to protest and bitch about, the boycott memes hit facebook with a vengeance. Apparently, no one will be watching A&E until they bring the ignorant hillbilly back onto the ignorant hillbilly show.

And just in case people started to less pissed off, someone, somewhere decided to publish something about this Robertson guy talking about how happy the black people were that he worked with. I don't know what the fuck that had to do with anything or why people should be more pissed... but there you go.
So, that's the situation.. and here is my response because for some reason I just can't shut the hell up about shit like this:

Mr. Robertson: You are obviously not an ignorant hillbilly. Therefore, whatever you said about terrorists, gay people and happy black people must be exactly what you believe. I'm a bit sad for you, but honestly, what you believe is your own fucking business. When a magazine interviews a person, they are expecting them to give an opinion. If, sir, you were waltzing around wearing a "Kill Gay People" t-shirt and shoving your socially unacceptable, but still widely held beliefs in people's faces, then you would just be an asshole. But as it happened, you gave your opinion when you were asked for it.

A & E: Holy fuck you're stupid. This guy obviously just totally owned the ignorant character you've been paying him to play for how long now? I've seen the show, and never got the impression that any of the people involved were anti-gay, or racist. I did get the vague feeling that the Phil guy is pretty goddamned sexist, but I guess that's okay because there was no huge public outcry from anyone. Did you only want the cute part of hillbilly on your hillbilly show?

GLAAD: I don't know much about you guys, but Jesus, please tell me you weren't really shocked about these statements. Of course, I get your point, but still... why in the name of God do you give a half a flying fuck what this guy says? He's part of a television show about fucking duck calls. Please tell me you don't think his statements are going to start a whole new anti-gay campaign... I mean other than the one his church apparently practices.

Boycotters: Um. Jesus. Freedom of Speech and shit. Because, goddamn 'Merica... First of all, Freedom of Speech is great, but it doesn't exactly apply here. See, the government isn't doing a damn thing to the guy. The network that features him is, because apparently they care about their public image. Boycott away, I'm reasonably sure they aren't really going to notice.

Whoever Brought Up The Jim Crow South: You win. I'm thoroughly baffled as to your point here. Yes, racism is bad.  Yes, that Phil guy may have been thoroughly out of touch with reality... but, just, what? He said the black people he worked with were happy and singing while he worked with them. And the media is ignoring that...? Or they aren't telling stories from 1912...? Or... fuck it, you made my brain hurt trying to figure that shit out.

16 December 2013

Global Warming...?

From sometime in 2011..

A few months ago, the heater’s blower motor in the mini van began to die a slow death. At first, it still blew some hot air and it would mysteriously kick on all of the sudden, and then quit. Slowly the intermittent blowing was replaced by a some-sort-of-dying-animal noise. And then, finally, the heater blew no more…At least in the front of the fan. Hot air was still blowing out of the vents in the back of the van, so if I started the car and let it run for a fairly long time, the heat would make its way up to the front of the car and defrost the windows for me, as well as warm the whole inside of the van. So, that’s how I have been doing it most of the winter, and it has been working just fine, except for today. Apparently this method is ineffective when the temperature dips into the negative double digits.

 Since I have found that every thing that can go wrong, will go wrong…I was hardly surprised when the power steering pump went out in the van as well. Art has assured me that it was not my method of Snow Removal that killed the power steering; on the other hand, my brother says that’s what happens when you use a mini van as a snow plow. I am a big fan of avoiding blame, so I am going to stick with Art on this one.

And finally, there is the fact that I am rarely cold. If I am cold, I am not usually cold for long because I start the car, let it get warm, run from the warm house to the warm car and then into where ever I am going to. The final destination is almost always WARM. So, I see no need for a heavy winter coat, or gloves or a hat and I usually stick with my light leather jacket.
And now that you have the back story….

Last night I went to work the closing shift at the bar.  I was, of course, running late, so I didn't bother to grab a hat or gloves. I threw my coat on and ran to the already warm car and drove to work, my ass half off the seat most of the time because I now need my entire body weight to turn a corner.
It was midnight when I left work and the temperature was -4 degrees. That's actual temperature...not wind chill. I started the car and let it run for over 20 minutes.

I locked the bar and got in to the car only to discover that the heat coming from the back blower will not sufficiently heat the car in subzero temperatures. Usually if it runs for long enough, the windows will even defrost. Not. Today.
There is a clear spot in the icy windshield, right in the middle, so I lean far to the right to see and steer at the same time. (Of course I could have scraped the ice off…but it was –4 freaking degrees outside, remember?) Once I start driving, the temp goes from -4 to -12 on the thermometer in the car. There is no warmth coming from the back of the car, my teeth are chattering, and my nose is frozen.
Since I neglected to bring any gloves with me, I am reduced to putting on a single kid’s glove that I found in the backseat, while sitting on the other hand, my nose pressed against the hand that is on the steering wheel because I am reasonably sure it is about to freeze and fall off. This is quite a picture.

As I am pulling out of the bar I realize that if anyone could see through my frosted windows, they would have to assume that the bartender is hammered, or sleeping, or maybe both.

Now, I probably would have been able to drive the entire way home that way, except I can't leave my ungloved hand tucked under my ass because I am unable to physically turn the stupid steering wheel with only one hand. Actually, I am physically unable to turn without utilizing my entire body weight and hooking my foot under the dash for leverage. I am not kidding. Stupid power steering pump.

When I stop at the stop light before my turn, I reach back and pull Cadence's Disney Princess hat on. It is pink, and glittery, and rather than simply stating “Princess” across the front, there are also pictures of the Disney Princesses. I look like a fucking retard at this point, I am sure. I reason that I am probably not going to get pulled over, though, because no sane cop wants to get out of the warmth of his car, (Which probably has perfect power steering by the way.) to pull over what appears to be a maybe-mentally-retarded-and-possibly-intoxicated-but-what-could-just-be-a-little-kid, driver.

I absolutely do not want to stop at the gas station. But I am out of cigarettes. And I am pretty sure we will need milk, and I know that there is no way in hell I am leaving the house in the morning after this whole fiasco; so I stop. I remembered to take the single glove off my hand before going in, which hardly mattered, because I forgot about the hat.

My teeth are chattering because the damn heater is actually blowing snow instead of hot air, and my nose is running, and I cannot park close to the door because there is no way I can make that tight of a turn, so I park at the pump and run.

"Cold out there huh?" Say the gas station lady. I am too cold to offer any witty retort so I roll my eyes at her instead and go about collecting the crap I need for morning. I briefly wonder if they will let me sleep in the gas station all night so I don't have to go outside.

But of course I don't ask. I run back to the car, drive - well, sort of - home and run into the house. I spend ten minutes sitting in front of the heater before removing my shoes and climbing into bed, jeans, coat, and stupid pink glittery hat still on my head.

I wake up early with the kids, and make a firm resolution to pack my shit and move somewhere south of here, where it is always warm...Just as soon as the power steering pump is fixed.

Yes You Can Hire Us To Remove Your Snow Too

The last few winter storms have dumped a fair amount of snow on our area.
Every time I leave the house, I see people outside in the bitter cold, plowing, snow blowing, and shoveling. They are sprinkling salt on their walkways, and digging their cars out of the piles of snow left behind by the city plows.

Silly, silly, people.

Shoveling is dangerous. People have heart attacks, throw their backs out, get lost and die of hypothermia. So, I avoid shoveling. And, cold? I hate cold.
It probably would be a good idea to shovel the sidewalk. But I am not going to do it. Instead, I send the kids out the door first, so they can trample some of it down for me. Why? Because the kids have snow boots. I do not have snow boots. I have tennis shoes. Plus, they are kids. Kids love snow, so even if they fall in it, they think it is great fun.

The driveway is a whole other matter. I suppose I could send the kids out to trample that snow too, but it would probably be frowned upon. Some people just do not agree with sending the kids out to play in the street. So, instead, I let the car get nice and warm, pile the kids in it and drive over the mound of snow left by the snowplows. Yes, in my minivan. It is not always as easy as it sounds. Sometimes there is a fair amount of rocking back and forth, and sometimes one needs a fairly big running start. After the first few times, though, provided there is no new snowfall, the mound of driven over snow turns into a giant sheet of ice.

Now, and only now, do I sprinkle salt on the ice. The salt melts the ice (mostly) and the rest of the week is a breeze...unless it snows again. In which case, I find myself almost completely screwed. Because the ice is now under the new snow, and salt or no salt, the tires spin and spin and spin. I am not a quitter though, and usually after no longer than twenty to thirty minutes of spinning my tires they burn through the ice to the pavement below and we are mobile once again.

Pulling into the driveway requires several techniques. Usually I back into my
neighbor's (plowed) driveway to get a good running start and I don't let off the gas until I am all the way in. We usually end up a little bit sideways, and sometimes almost completely sideways, but the kids think it is a fantastic game.

Since I have an aversion to cold, and wet, and snow, and mostly cold...this is the closest the children are going to get to sledding with Mommy.

13 December 2013

Proof That Animal Planet Producers Hate You

I've discussed Animal Planet programming before. These seven examples are listed to show you exactly how much Animal Planet producers hate us. And also how sadistic they are.

Let’s say you’re a bartender or a cab driver or drug dealer or something, working the night shift. You come home exhausted and fall into bed. Since you aren’t interested in falling asleep to the lull of Proactive infomercials, you locate the remote and flip to the Animal Planet channel, since they play regular programming 24 hours a day.

You expect to drift off to a peaceful sleep quickly, but of course you have to get up to pee, because that’s just what happens when you finally relax enough to sleep. You figure you’ve got ten minutes, tops, before exhaustion claims your consciousness and you drift into sweet, sweet… Holy Mother of God! What the fuck is that hyena doing with its head up an elephant’s ass?

1.   Eating Giants

The Animal Planet wants to know if you’ve ever wondered what happens to animals after they die in the wild. Instead of telling us some pretty lie about Elephant Heaven they figured they’d show us in stomach turning detail the aftermath of death. Hyenas and insects and maggots and crocodiles feed on the dead elephant for your viewing pleasure. Since sleep is now out of your reach for the night, or maybe for the rest of your life, you don’t change the channel when the dead hippo episode comes on next.

For the love of God. You realize a number of things quite suddenly, really. First of all, you are watching this animal being eaten from the inside. Why in the name of everything sacred did they shove a camera inside of the carcass? How did they nominate the camera shover? Is that legal? 

You also realize that hyenas are probably the most disgusting animals to ever walk the earth. For some reason, they appear to enjoy smelling like dead things, or they simply like to cuddle with their meals before they tear into them. You aren’t even sad as you remember the clip that shows some maggots somehow move from the carcass of the elephant to feed on the anus of a hyena. Karma. You vomit and fall asleep, thankfully before the sleep-deprivation induced psychosis can set in. 

2.   American Stuffers

Having shown you what happens to dead animals in the wild, the Animal Planet offers this sweet reality show about a taxidermist in Arkansas that specializes in pets because you will never, ever want to leave a dead animal to nature.

This little jewel includes episode titles like “Keep Your Dead Animals Out of my Kitchen”, “How to Stuff a Chihuahua” and “The Woman with the Pet Raccoon”.
And this cute little clip, titled “Freeze Dried Pets” because there is no longer a God.

Since that fucking NONO commercial is on every other channel, you just keep watching Animal Planet, because fuck it, the last few shows have already consumed what you had of a soul and you come across…

3.   Monsters Inside Me
You don’t even attempt to contemplate what could have happened to the cute puppy shows as you enter the world of parasites. Every episode features some people that have been infected with one terrifying and disgusting parasite or another. You watch the shows titled, “Suicide Attackers”, “Feeding Frenzy” and “Cold Blooded Killers” to name a few, as the show explains the terrifyingly simple ways the victims acquired various parasites.

To feed your increasing paranoia, you watch cute little clips on the Animal Planet website called “Brittney Coughs up Worms” and “Attack of the Killer Pea” and the ever-popular “Brain Eating Parasite”. You decide you are never going outside again. Ever.

Now that you’ve quit your job and sealed your air vents to prevent air-born parasites from entering your home, the Animal Planet would like to introduce you to…

Well, that’s fun. Now that you are too paranoid to go outdoors and you wear a nose plug in the shower to keep the brain eating amoeba away, the Animal Planet has produced a t.v. show just to make you feel unsafe in the sanctity of your own home. No matter how many times you bleach everything, you can’t prevent an infestation of the various demons disguised as bugs and shit shown on Infested.

You watch as families across America battle all kinds of infestations, from raccoons to black widows, snakes, cockroaches, and bats. At some point during the bedbug episode, you find the strength to crawl out of the corner you’ve been rocking yourself in and fall into bed. Bedbugs are cool, you figure, if the Animal Planet is to be believed, bedbugs are probably the best thing that could ever happen to you.

Thoroughly convinced that you can hear something munching through your brain and that the sound your fridge is making is actually a horde of black widow spiders searching for a way in, sleep eludes you and you can’t help but hear as the Animal Planet decides to fuck with your fragile psyche just a bit more with…

5.   Monsters in my Head

You cower beneath the covers as real people tell stories of being terrorized by demons and bugs and other things that are… well, just not human anyway.

After watching Sleeping with the Devil and also the Monsters of the Night episodes, you decide that sleeping is probably the worst idea ever. You sweep the room for mysterious figures or bugs while shoving amphetamines down your throat in  heart stopping quantities.

Must stay awake.

6.   Freak Encounters

A team of investigators sets out to discover various terrifying creatures. Did that say Mongolian Death Worm? What the fuck is wrong with these people? Who would want to look for that on purpose?

As the amphetamines eat through the fatigue and fear in your brain you realize that this a some kind of practical joke show. One of the unsuspecting investigators is being set up for a staged run in with a mythical creature.

You relax a little bit, tell yourself you never believed in Mongolian Death Worms any, and even laugh a little as the butt of the joke gets bleeped out repeatedly.

And then, as if the Animal Planet producers can somehow sense your waning paranoia, they throw this one at you,

7.   Killer Outbreaks

Since they’ve already shown you how a tiny parasite can kill you, they assumed you wanted to know how they can also kill EVERYONE. And since they figure you may have some trust issues with the network by now, they bring in the CDC to explain how a pandemic is waiting to strike anytime, making it even more horrifyingly real.

The show details real life outbreaks and the implications of new virus strains and as you tuck yourself back into your cozy rocking corner and order a gasmask off your laptop, you get to hear more than you ever wanted to know about Anthrax, SARS and even Salmonella.

Because.. Obviously. The producers have no souls. And they hate you.

10 December 2013

Hoookers and Blow Trivia

I love trivia night. I'd like to say it's because I enjoy the competition, or the challenge...or something else intelligent, but mostly it's because of the comradery, the shit-talking that occurs between teams and, of course, the liquor. And also because I occasionally get to experience the wonder that is Nate's father. Really, that dude is fucking awesome.

Anyway, now that "Trivia night" has replaced the traditional "shit-faced Mondays," we are able to over-indulge significantly in the name of intelligent competition. Sort of.

I'm blessed with a bunch of wicked fucking smart friends, so I don't really have to participate all that often. Unless the subject is psychology, sign language or "animal planet after 3am," I'm pretty much useless at trivia.

However, what I lack in trivia contribution, I am able to make up in debit card expense. Because some glorious trivia game maker decided that for every shot a person does, they receive a point... and at the end of the game, the team with the most shot points gets an extra ten points.

As you can imagine, this has given a whole new meaning to the term "shit-faced Mondays." In fact, before my weekly outing, my husband runs to the store, purchases cigarettes, Gatorade and Excedrin and he doesn't even laugh when I say I'll be home right after the game.

Last night, our team got 67 shot points. Yes, that's sixty-seven fucking shots. I'm pleased to say I didn't participate in most of them. Because, as much as I enjoy drinking games, I do not participate in games that involve Apple Pie shots. In case you haven't heard of Apple Pie, it is apple cider flavored awesomeness, spiked with Satan's urine, probably. The last time I tried to drink it, ahem, a full glass of it, I was drunk until late the next afternoon. No bullshit.

This is a pretty unfocused, rambling blog, but what I'm attempting to say is that if you currently lack a reason for your own shit-faced Mondays, you should maybe consider coming to ours. Because not only will we make you feel like a social drinker by comparison, but also because it's a Hell of a good time. We play at Brando's, in downtown Porter, IN starting at 8pm.

Dan(the trivia guy, who is awesome, by the way) has a Facebook page, StarBill Trivia that you can go "like" right now. I do not know why it is StarBill Trivia, as his name is neither Bill nor Star...but in any case, it's always a good time. In fact, the guy is so awesome that he created the round pictured below because any answer I don't know I answer with "hookers and blow" because my daddy said that hookers and blow were the answer to anything in life. I have yet to receive even a half a point for the answer... but I guess that's beside the point.