She's not crazy. It's all true.

The woman that thinks David Letterman is telepathically stalking her was interviewed on a local station. Let me just say that she is a good example of how I see the Santa Fe mentality. She is obviously sincere and probably a nice gal.

To bad that she fell off the reality bridge.

Go here to see her in all her her…….glory?

I think she should turn off her TV and read a good book.

Then she can think that the characters in the book are in league with Letterman and trying to take her mattress.

Dry as a Popcorn Fart

I can definitely sympathize with the people in Texas and Oklahoma who have been ravaged by wildfire. We have not had fire yet, but conditions are here.

We have had 8/100 of an inch of rain this month. November was the 9th driest month in the past one hundred years. We appear to be gearing up for another record fire season unless Mother Nature suddenly decides to show mercy and dump a whole lot of snow.

In the meantime, I am clearing any high grass from around the house and hoping for snow, rain, or any measurable precipitation.

Happiness is a Warm Bed

For some unknown reason, one of two furnaces in the Trollhouse refused to work this season. Of course it would be the one that heats my bedroom. The Mrs. and I were sleeping in the living room where we were basking in the warmth of the pellet stove.

I got fed up with sleeping on the hide-a-bed and decided to play with the furnace again. After fiddling with this thingy and futzing with another thingy and probably doing at least seven things that are not safe, I got the damn thing working again!

I was so happy that I did the Troll Dance of Happiness and Joy. Trust me, you do not want to see that.

The Mrs. and I spent a wonderful night in a real bed and did not freeze our little naughty bits off.

Sometimes happiness is just a warm place to sleep.

Weak week

I have never been able to wrap my brain around the week between Christmas and New Years. It just feels like a wasted week. Nothing really gets done unless you are in retail. (And if you are in retail, I send you condolences.)

This is the week of changes. Longer days, back-to-back holidays, and the beginning of a New Year make this the week of transition, the week where we all readjust to things.

‘Year in review’ articles in the papers and TV remind us that we are beginning something. Resolutions personalize the New Year, encouraging us to leave bad habits in the past year and cultivate new and better ones.

In short, this week is where we leave things behind us and begin again.

We embrace optimism and a more positive attitude. We throw off the cobwebs of winter and start looking at spring and summer in our hearts.

I hope that 2006 far outshines your expectations.

Merry Afterday

Families everywhere are wondering what to do with all the left over food and wrapping paper, filling trash cans to beyond capacity.

People are getting in lines to return that gift that is exactly the wrong shade of pink or the wrong size by an order of magnitude.

Many people have to go back to work today, most wishing that they had listened to their mothers so they would have better jobs and not have to work today.

Teens, ‘tweens, and others are nagging someone for a ride to the mall to use that shiny new gift card and obtain more goodies.

Kiddies everywhere are playing with new toys and things that make noise. Adults are wishing for good weather so the kids will actually go outside for a little while. In some homes, batteries are being lost at magical rates, making certain toys useless, uninteresting, and (most importantly) silent.

Men are playing with the newest gadget and electronic toy that modern technology has to offer. Only three will actually read the instructions, and most will now never ask for directions because of the new GPS, even though they do not know how to make it work in a manner that they can understand.

Mothers and wives are cleaning up after all of the above and thinking how its about time that hubby got off his ass and actually did something like changing into cloths that don’t smell of stale food and beer.

In homes everywhere, people are reliving the annual holiday family fight, gossiping about who said what, and making snide remarks about relatives and friends, creating fuel for next year, and promoting domestic bliss.

In short, people all over this country are wallowing in new swag and recovering from the holiday.

I hope yours was not like any of the above.

Merry Afterday!

Ploop!

I should be blogging and commenting on the state of the holiday. I should be sharing insights into the nature of giving and receiving gifts. Maybe later.

I tried earlier today and what I had to say was even too black for my taste, and I have rather dark tastes.

I just can’t bring myself to post about dead children in the news. I won’t share with you tales of drunken drivers killing families and mothers leaving their children unattended to die in house fires while they are at the bar.

I hope you have a happy holiday and that you are not out there with the last minute shoppers bashing and bruising each other in a festive holiday fashion while singing the wrong words to some annoying Christmas song.

Merry Christmas. (And if you are a PC freak and take offense at that, go stick a Christmas tree up your ass. Pointy end first and take it nice and slow for the full effect. Leave the decorations on, specially the glass ones.)

I just had a mental image of the little lights going out one by one. It made me smile.

You can probably tell what kinda mood I am in.

Love to some, waves to a lot more, and the rest can go join the PC freak that I mentioned earlier.

Send pictures. I could use a good cheering up.

(Lights going out…..ploop!)  

Insanity is relative

I have posted before about how I feel about the town of Santa Fe, New Mexico.

It is a city of confusion in the streets and the people. I am not fond of the place. I would rather go to the DMV than voluntarily take a trip to Santa Fe. People who live in Santa Fe even say “Santa Fe’ like it is a pretentious name for a pretentious city.

Now we have this person that claims a national TV star has been sending her subliminal messages over her TV from New York. She, of course, lives in Santa Fe. She got a court restraining order to keep him at least 100 feet away from her.

Do I need remind you that his show is from New York? I thought not. That is far more than 100 feet away, I assure you.

And the thought that some judge actually wasted time to grant this order is beyond me. Could this learned and respected man not realize that this woman is showing signs of mental disorder? Could he not point out that Mr. Letterman is already far more than 100 feet away? Is he as nutty as she is?

Could she not change the channel?

We will probably never learn the answers to these questions. On some level I don’t think I really want to. I am close enough to being crazy as I am; I probably should not explore the disjointed realities of others.

Next thing you know, I will be claiming my goldfish is a terrorist.

Wait a minute……

The Treatment

I am not a doctor, and I do not play one on this blog. I am, however, the first to define Teenage Dementia and, therefore, feel that I am the only expert in the world. (Now that I have gotten that out of the way, lets have some fun.**)

Here are my suggestions for treating this insidious disease. Help stamp out TD!

Stick your nose into their personal lives Demand to know to whom they are talking and where they are going. Demand to meet their friends. Follow up. Call their friends parents and make sure that they are telling the truth. Let them know that as long as you are paying the bills and that they are living under your roof, you will shamelessly monitor their behavior. (In some places you actually are legally responsible for their actions.)

Give them defined chores around the house, and insist that these are done on a regular basis. No excuses. No reward. This can be as simple a job as cleaning a room to something as complicated as building an airplane in the garage. Multiple tasks are also acceptable. I will leave the chore up to you, but accept no excuses. Do not them ‘forget’ or ‘get too busy’, these chores come before social or school activities.

Sit your teen down RIGHT NOW and tell them that you will search their room if you feel that they are lying to you. Privacy must be earned, as should trust. On the other hand, do not do this thing until you have reasonable cause to suspect that something is in fact going on. If you find evidence, then it is time to put the hammer down.

Make them responsible for their own actions. Accept no excuses. Their friends did NOT make them do anything. They chose to do that thing, for whatever reason. If you can actually teach your teen to accept responsibility, then you will probably have a teen that is easy to have in the house and a pleasure to live with.

Do not make excuses for your teen. If they are accused of doing something wrong at school, it is their responsibility to disprove the charges or pay the penalty. If you intercede, you will probably make a damn fool of yourself.

Be prepared to remove privileges. Like privacy, TV, sleeping in a bed, or talking to friends on the phones that YOU pay for. Sometimes teens can be a little thick and you have to do something drastic to get their attention.  

Be creative. Every time your teen pushes your buttons, push back, only harder. Think carefully about what you should do and seek advice. Then execute. Do not react, respond. (I have been known to remove doors to bedrooms and purposely walk in on the teen in the bathroom while I held a camera. Embarrassment is a powerful tool. Use it.)

Pictures of your teen when it was in diapers (Or even better, without diapers) are invaluable in keeping a teen under control. Blackmail is acceptable. BE CAREFUL; some would see this as child porn. Put a sign on each pic; ‘Not for erotic use.’

Take pictures of ridiculous clothing. Tell your teen that you are going to send the pictures to the fashion police. Show everyone you know. Post pictures on the Internet, with captions like, “You gotta have big balls to need pants like this,” or, “This is where he hides his girlfriend.”

Dress like your teen. Teens hate this and will immediately change style. They seem to think that certain things are ‘for teens only’.

Limit bathing. Every teen has a cleanliness fetish. Issue your teen a bathing pass, and limit it to every other day. If you have a teen that has no cleanliness issue, hose him/her down in the backyard when they get too ripe. Use laundry detergent.

Record all phone calls and run capture files on all computer communications. Monitor both. When you get in a bad mood, fisk them. This can be loads of fun and really pisses off a teen.

Know where your teen is going on a date, and then show up unannounced. This can be fun and instructional at the same time.

When the teen says, “But you are embarrassing me,” respond with something like, “Yes I am, and until I know you are acting responsibly, I will continue to do so.”

Talk about them in the third person when they are in the room. If they do not treat you with respect, then do not show them respect. If they act like children, then treat them like children.

If your teen runs away from home, let them. Let them take only the cloths on their back. Call all of their friend’s houses and tell the parents that your teen is a runaway and that if they take your child in they are in violation of the law. Tell them this as matter of fact as possible. Ask them to call you if they see your child and to send the child home. If the teen has no one to sponge off of, chances are they will have no other place to live. If they have no place to live, they will want to come home. Hunger and cold are a great educator.

If you have a particularly rebellious teen, you should be emotionally prepared to see this individual in jail, or perhaps you will need to put them in jail. This is part of accepting responsibility for ones own actions

Most important of all; let them grow up. Do not handicap your child’s future by making their life too easy. They will fall down. Let them. They will cry, whine, and get their feelings hurt. You did and you are still alive. They will be broke. Do not give them money. If you loan them money, charge interest. Their hearts will get broken. They will mend with time. Yours did. You cannot take all the hurt and emotional heartache away from growing up. If you try, you will just end up with a large child, dependant on you and always needing more.

Last but not least;
     Love them as though they are your children, they probably are. Being a parent does not mean that you have to be a total asshole, but it certainly does not mean that you should be your teens friend. (I never did get the idea of being a kid’s friend automatically because you brought it into this world. My other friends have had to earn being my friend, so should my kids.)

Have fun, laugh as much as possible, and don’t let them get to you. It is only a few more years and they will be able to move out. Then you will begin to miss them.

**  Obviously this should not be taken too seriously. Over the years and living with four teens has taught me that there is no formula that will make things work. There is no manual that comes with kids, and if there were, it would be wrong. Each child is different, as each adult is different.
     If I have a point here, I think that it is that a parent should be a parent first and a friend much later. I can say from experience that being a parent in any form (Step) is a hard job, but if you can‘t teach responsibility, then you have failed. The school cannot teach it, the church no longer teaches it. That leaves you.

Good luck

This explains things...

It has come to my attention that the big brains in this country have missed something that needs to be addressed. It is a disease that has swept our nation for decades, yet remains a mystery. It is so ignored that it does not even have a name, yet we deal with its symptoms in all public places and even in our own homes. I call it,

Teenage dementia.

From the ages of about twelve to whenever they grow out of it (And I have known some that are in their 40’s and still suffer from it), teenagers show many of the symptoms of dementia. Forgetfulness, hardness of hearing, inability to see trash or dirty dishes, delusions of being in a meaningful relationship, inability to choose appropriate clothing, and a reluctance to get out of bed, all lead me to believe that there is something wrong with the teenage mind.

Inappropriate public displays of affection periodically interrupted by irrational demonstrations of rage and frustration are other common symptoms of the disease.

All thoughts are focused on sex and appearance in both boys and girls, yet the boys can’t wear pants that don’t have diaper storage built in or know that the bill of a ‘gimmie’ cap is worn to the front, over the eyes, not to the side and not to the back. The girls seem to think that showing all the goods is the key to success and popularity, even if the goods are not there yet. (Have you seen those “Bratz” dolls? The first time I saw them I thought someone had marketed porn action figures.)

A certain lack of ability to focus on the task at hand makes teenagers open to suggestion, but only if that suggestion is from someone other than a responsible adult. If it comes from an adult, the suggestion is automatically rejected and erased from memory as never having occurred. (Syntax error. Delete! Delete! Delete!)

Teens seem to loose the ability to accept responsibility for actions, always blaming others (peer pressure) and circumstances. (“My dog passed when I was five years old and I have never been able to accept love.”) We have all heard the, ’But my dog ate my homework’, defense, a true classic, and a fine example of the delusional state of in the teen mind.

A teenagers social life takes on a life of it’s own and nothing will ever get in the way. I think that even a major earthquake would not stop my teen from IMing and text messaging. (At the same time. To the same person) If his ass were on fire, he would ask some digital friend to come put it out, while his mother and I fought the blaze.

This demonstrates monomania, yet we excuse it as, ‘Part of growing up.’

It is time for us to stop making excuses and deal with the problem head on; teens show signs of dementia and we should treat them as such. They have a disease, but it is treatable.

Next Post; My Ways to treat Teenage Dementia.

Shopping fun

In your pre-holiday shopping, you are certain to encounter that one child with the scream that can be heard for miles. You know the one I am talking about. So shrill that it should break glass and so annoying that you actually wish the kid was yours so you could make it stop.

Take my advice, telling a strangers child that you are going to kill Santa will not make the screaming stop.

I'm just saying......

My good deed

Yesterday saw a stepTroll and myself driving to the far reaches of the state for some reason that escapes me now. He needed time towards his learners permit, I needed to go somewhere for no reason. (All right, I had to run an errand in Carlsbad before the holiday. Do you feel better now?)

About half way to Carlsbad, there is a rest area with nothing around for miles except a horrible sculpture made from old road cast offs, (Guardrail, light posts and the like) and signs warning you to watch for rattlesnakes.* I felt a need to make a short stop and get rid of some used coffee that was begging for a new home. We stopped in front of the restrooms, and took a moment to watch two youths in handcuffs being escorted into the other set of bathrooms by corrections officers.

When I got out of my truck, I noticed two fellas working on an old beat up pickup truck with a trailer attached. The trailer was full of cordwood, and they had obviously been woodcutting for home heat. The nearest woodcutting area that I know of is at least fifty miles from where they were now working under the hood. It seemed likely these guys were having a bad day.

After removing used coffee from my bladder, I was making way back to the car when I was approached by one of the woodcutters. He was in very dirty coveralls and wearing a knit cap with dingle balls hanging from the top. He did nothing to instill a sense of confidence in me. Quite the opposite, me made me feel uneasy.

He asked if I could give him a ride to the next town, about 45 minutes away. I explained that the back seat of my pickup was full. (I do not willingly give rides to seedy strangers. This is New Mexico, after all, and all manner of weirdness happens here.) He said that he would gladly ride in the bed.

How could I refuse? He had to be desperate if he was willing to ride in the back of an open pickup in temperatures that were below freezing. He hunkered down low in the bed as the wind worked its way onto his flesh. He was obviously very cold. I figure that the wind chill had to be 30 below. I actually almost felt sorry for him. (No. Don’t faint. I still have one feeling left.)

He made the trip without freezing to death, but did ask that I drop him off as soon as possible. He simply had to be miserable in the back of that truck, but was glad that he got a ride at all, and thanked me several times. I even wished him a Merry Christmas in return.

I guess I did my good deed for the ’05 year.

When we were driving back home, we saw the same two guys driving toward town, so I know that they got the truck fixed and were able to make it home.

Now I can start feeling all warm and fuzzy for Christmas.

What in hell am I saying? I just had a fit of ineffectual rage when I saw Frosty the Snowman and the Charlie Brown Christmas were going to be on TV again.

Bah FU**ING Humbug

NOW I feel better………



* I really do mean nothing. No trees, no houses, nothing to catch the eye. Kinda like the sea, but the dirt does not move. Seeing a cactus is an event.

IMHO

The best way to deal with a difficult situation is simply to tell the truth. No lies, no embellishments, and no excuses. Simply admit to what you have done and be finished with it.

If you are to be punished, that is someone else's problem.

Lies just complicate your life. Once you tell a lie, the rest of your life you have to remember that lie, as well as its accompanying truth. Each lie is at least two things added to your life and frequently many more. Is it really worth the bother?

Is responsibility really such a burden?

Here Kitty Kitty Kitty....

I can understand that some people like cats. I do myself.

On the other hand, this is so far around the bend that I can’t even see the bend from where I stand.

Space is the Place

Yippie tie one on!! Virgin Galactic has struck a deal that pledges 225 million dollars for the development of the New Mexico Spaceport.

I am as excited as a kid on Christmas morning. (Before the damn fools took all the fun out of being a kid and made things politically correct, that is.)

Phone Phun

In my house there are five cordless phones, three cellular phones, and one speakerphone/handset. When the ground line rings, there is a mad dash by everyone in the house to find a phone that is working. This usually goes on until the service picks up the call, at which point someone will find a phone with a charge and use the caller ID to find out if we should call back or ignore the call.

Fifteen minutes later we will go through this again, and the calls are hardly ever for adults.

I have never understood why the phones never end up back on the charger. Am I the only one in the house that knows that the phones NEED charging? Do the others in this house think that the phones are magically powered or solar charged? Do they believe in phone gnomes that monitor and maintain the handsets?

Sometimes my wife will call me on my cell phone when she knows I am home just so I will not have to chase one of the five mystery phones.

I love her.

Sometimes one of the five mystery phones will turn up in the most unlikely of places, like the bottom of the laundry hamper or in the glove department of the car. Whenever this occurs, no one can offer any possible explanation for how the phone could have gotten there. The day it appeared in the dishwasher was a day that should become a holiday. “Telephone Sanitation Day”

I miss the days when there was only one place the phone could be. The damn thing had to be there because it as attached to the wall with a wire. Even if someone took it, you could always track it down by following the wire. Without the wire, it was useless.

I think they were on to something. Imagine having a wire attached to the phone. No running around trying to find it. No missed calls because you can’t find the damn thing. No more searching around in the bottom of your purse because some one else’s phone rings.

That could bring about a new age of enlightenment. Think about it. All the time wasted on hunting phones could be put to more creative uses, like the search for truth and the answer to where all the lost socks really go.

Politics and play

Why is it that the less gifted in our society make the most noise? They whine and cry and make everyone that does not give in to their demands appear to be heartless and cruel. They use the squeaky wheel approach to every problem and then drown any solution in opinions, points of view, and political correctness. Then, when the solution that they accept does not work to their satisfaction, they blame everyone else and stand tall proclaiming their hatred for the inequitable situation and again confuse the issue with political grandstanding.

There has to be a way to cut through all the crap, a way to actually look to solving problems before they can turn into platforms for an agenda. I remember once someone telling me, “If it’s not written down, it’s just a state of mind.”

We need an approach like that in political situations. Some way of locking in the original concept of the problem to be addressed so that it cannot be changed later at someone’s convenience to better suit a political agenda.

When I say political, I don’t just mean in politics, I mean ALL political situations, whether dealing with the postman or President. Frankly, bosses are more likely to use this technique than the President because it is far less likely that the sharp light of exposure will shine on the boss. The boss is not being watched quite so closely.

It’s been my experience that the lower on the ‘power’ scale a person is, the more likely s-he is to exert every ounce of perceived power that s-he thinks s-he has. This usually results in confusion and micromanagement. It also results in the person protecting his/her position with the passion of a mother bear protecting her cubs, reacting with angry growls before lashing out and biting someone’s head off at the slightest imagined provocation.

Until a system is accepted that will protect us from changing the subject and political grandstanding, I ask that we all band together and try our very best to not use these very ploys that make politics so confusing. To put it simply, please try to be honest with yourself and keep perspective. This has the added bonus of letting you be honest with other people.

And if honesty doesn’t work, just accuse them of being sexual predators or drug users. Then while everyone is getting excited about another scandal, you can cut and run.

WTF??

For some reason, my Word plug in for Blogger will not make a connection. Perhaps I shall arrange some kind of digital hell for it.

The forbidden zone...

It finally happened. I gave into my cravings for a clean house. I went into the step Troll’s room, put my foot down, and told him,

“You have to clean your room!”

Then I found I could not leave, as my foot had stuck to the floor.

He got the point.

After the ordeal of shoe removal, I offered the occasional criticism and bad advice.
I had to help him with vacuum operating lessons, and tell him where all the cleaning necessities are, but he finally got through the first stage of cleaning his room.

Then the dog took a dump on the freshly cleaned floor of his bathroom.

I now feel as though I am not a failure as a parent and that he shall have some of the skills necessary for when he decides to go out on his own.

He will, at least, know the frustrations of cleaning.



(I would like to say that he did this job without whining, crying, complaining, or any other of the traditional teenage ‘postpone the inevitable’ ploys. He got right down to it. But I know that he reads this and would not want him to think that I MIGHT have something nice to say about him. It would ruin that whole evil stepfather thing I have going. I am counting in his short attention span to insure that he does not read this part.)

(If he does read down this far and admits it, then I shall have to devise some insidious punishment for some imagined wrong, just to bring balance back to the universe. Being a parent is a full time job and forces you to push the limits of your creativity.)

Fall

I was a little late this year in doing the fall cleaning thing, about 2 years late now that I think about it.

I have been battling dust dinosaurs under the refrigerator and cobwebs that held clues to the origin of previously unknown forms of insect life. I collected enough cat/dog hair to knit a nice area rug. I found toys that were lost before we even moved into this house.

Let’s not even think about the stuff that occurs in the microwave. If it were not for the constant radiation, life would be growing there that would be hearty enough to exist unassisted in space.

The whole house became covered in a fine protective layer of dust, and it’s now my job to remove it.

We used to have a cleaning lady, she was great, but offers of more money in distant towns were more attractive than vacuuming dog hair from my carpets and mopping cat gack from my floors. I really can’t blame her. Frankly, if I could find someone that was willing to come out here and clean, I would happily watch him or her and offer bad advice. I can think of many things that I would rather do than clean house. Napping, for instance. Slamming my hand in the door for another.

I thought about opening all the doors and windows and simply walking through the place with a leaf blower, but it has been too damn cold. The cats would probably escape anyway. That would get me in hot water with Mrs. Troll.

That would not help with the toilets. It’s amazing how nasty a toilet can become. That environment is so bad that even the dogs won’t go in there. That is quite a statement from an animal that licks its own ass and likes the taste.

I am convinced that the teens in the house simply cannot see filth. They could walk by a steaming pile of dogshit and not notice. One of the teen rooms has not been cleaned in months and I am NOT going to risk my life until I absolutely have to. Like when he moves out and I can get a large dumpster and environment suits.

At that point I will just get some of that foam they use for Anthrax contamination and spray it around the room. Twice.

I decided to let him live in his own filth. This was probably a bad idea. His filth will soon invade the other parts of the house, and we will all come down with some strange disease that only occurs naturally in the anus of wild ducks.

His room is so bad that I make him wipe his feet before he can leave it.

Suggestions of him considering the possibility of cleaning his room fall on deaf ears. When I finally force the issue, he will usually just move the pile of shoes from one side of the room to the other, (He has more shoes than most women) put the dirty cloths in the hamper, and push a broom listlessly around the floor, and then plunk his ass in front of the computer to tap to his friends, considering the job done.

Meanwhile the dust rhinos are planning an escape. I can hear them. They have developed a civilization under his bed and are planning the invasion of his bathroom. I wish them luck.

I don’t mean to turn this into a rant about the boys. They are actually really good kids. It’s just that like all teens, they are slobs and would rather do anything than keep their rooms clean. They are at the age where they think they are immortal.

Unfortunately I am not. I have faced my own mortality, and it seems to lay in the direction of that room.

I have battled the carbon life form that took over the oven, removed accumulated grease monsters from windows, changed the encrusted filters in the heaters, and waxed the inside of the dishwasher.

Can I take that nap now?

And again. Sheese!

I though the last post was bad, then a ran across another on CNN that is nearly as bad.

For some unknown reason, I can not seem to get the linky thing to work on this one, so go to CNN, then Law, then read about the mother that gave her baby vodka.

That is if you want to learn more about depravity.

What are we coming to?

One sick woman

This has to be one of the most repulsive things that I have heard in a long time.

This woman should have her ovaries removed, dried, powdered, then mixed with the drug she loves so much so she can inject it into her veins.

That is just my opinion.

Are you easily offended?

In this age of political correctness and appropriate behavior, I think that people are looking for reasons to be offended. It is now politically correct to take into consideration how others are going to feel about what you have to say. Actually, that should be; ‘What you think they are going to think about what you have to say.’ (It takes a certain doublethink mentality to come up with this shit.)

I read recently that I should no longer call children’s containers for small change ‘Piggy Banks’ for fear of offending our porcine brothers and sisters.

I already eat the four-legged squealers, why in hell should I worry about offending them?  I can’t think of anything more offensive than wanting to eat you or your kin. I eat bacon and those little delightful pork patties that taste so good on a muffin. Should I apologize to pigs before I shove their tasty flesh into my pie hole?

If the PC’s have their way, hamburger chains will have to fund a memorial to all the fallen bovine, and pay restitution to the calves of the oppressed. (Reminds me of Douglas Adam’s ‘Meet the Meat’.)

We have finally collectively fallen off the reality bridge. I heard a phrase last week that had me gasping and swearing into my coffee at the same time. (A neat trick, but I don’t recommend it without a net and a large napkin)

“Otherizing”

This seems to be mentally putting others into any category to which you do not belong.

As I see the world, a person simply cannot go through life without ‘otherizing’. I am not female, melanin enhanced, seasoned, food, or any number of things that I do not have the time or inclination to list.

I was not created equal. I am still not equal. I think that little bit of American metaphor has caused great identity confusion in this country. I am not rich, I am not tall, I am not stunningly handsome and make the women swoon, I am not one hell of a lot of things, I am not equal to you and everyone else. I am an individual.

I was forced to learn the lesson many years ago that tall people had an advantage in this world. They are treated better, make more money, and do not have people writing songs saying they have no reason to live. I do not insist that others refer to me as ‘vertically challenged’. I do not insist that others make doors shorter and toilets closer to the floor.

PC is trying to make the world equal. It will never happen. It can’t happen. No matter what the tree huggers and ALCU would have us think, some people are smarter, richer, or just more popular than others.

Instead of trying to make us all the same, perhaps we should celebrate being individuals.