Archive for October, 2013

So, the World was saved from Certain Destruction by our Beloved President at Zero Hour when he swooped in and FORCED those damn Republicans to respond to his Righteous Tomes of Reason.

Yeah, I don’t know how I can write that and not vomit, either…..

The truth of the matter is: this whole “government shutdown” thing?  Yeah, it’s pretty much bullshit.  There was no saving, no Zero Hour Reprieve.  Mitch McConnell got a 2 million dollar dam and the rest of us got the shaft.  I know *I* feel real good about that.

Ya know I come from a long history of insurrectionists and I think I may even have an ancestor that was burned at the stake for Witchcraft (did I mention I’m a ginger?) and so fomenting revolution is something that seems to run in my blood.  I have no problem stirring the stew-especially if I’m right.  Thomas Jefferson-another ginger haired insurrectionist-said that the Tree of Liberty must be refreshed with the blood of Patriots from time to time.  Amen to that.

We have sunk so far down whatever sociopolitical hole we’re in, we will never see daylight.  It’ll be covered up by the Affordable Care Act, the Dream Act, Common Core, or whatever other dystopian-ended project They want to dump on top of us.  They- the enigmatic THEY, that for years never had a face or name or even really a particular group you could associate with THEM- are all out in the open now aren’t they?  Incredibly brazen and, I’m sure, quite embolden by the fact that we have become a nation of PUSSIES.  Yep, I said it- I used the P-word.  But, it’s true!  We can’t have playgrounds at school anymore because kids might get hurt, we can’t have actual winners and losers in sporting competitions because someone might get their feelings hurt, we can’t let little boys play cops and robbers because that breeds gun violence and for the fucking love of God don’t let your mom pack your lunch anymore because the woman who gave birth to you DOES NOT KNOW what is best for you!

Is anybody getting this?

My mother is 74 years old.  She will die a victim of Obamacare.

Unless we do something.

My sons are 20 and 23.  Their futures will be sacrificed for the “good of the collective”.

Unless we do something.

My daughter is 19 and, hell, she doesn’t even WANT children. But, that may not be her choice for much longer.

Unless we do something.

But, we don’t.  And even I have become guilty of that because I started to “do something”.  I started to go to the Tea Party rallies and the 912 meetings and it wasn’t too long before the Personalities took over and they were no longer rallies and meetings but forums to satisfy whoever had an agenda.  It was about how to further the individual running his mouth the longest and loudest- not about the principles.  And the politicians naturally rose to the top of that cream, too, and now people I thought were dumber than duck shit as teachers have become “educators” and run for public office.  We gave them free rein to breed their own sort of “candidate”.  And it makes me sick because this isn’t what we need.  We DO NOT need another fucking lawyer running for office (especially here in Illinois where I’m from).  We DO NOT need more politicians to solve the problem of having too many politicians.  And we all know what we do need but no one wants to say it, no one so much as wants to consider the fact that another Revolution may not only be in the wind, but may be the ONLY chance we have at salvaging what’s left of the Republic, executing the traitors and running everyone else out of town on a rail.

I have thought about it long and hard.  I have asked myself if  there are any MORE men like Ted Cruz.  Sadly, no, not that would satisfy the needs of the “party” so we’ll never see them.  I see men like Ted Cruz everyday-just Regular Guys trying to get by in the middle of all this crap- guys that *I* could get behind.  But the “party” never will, because they’re not “team players” or not lawyers or “educators”.  Fuck the party- it’s time to lock and load.  Can you honestly see John Boener drawing down on….welll, ANYONE? The time for talk is over.  The time for debate is over.  If you don’t know which side of the fence you’re on and you’re not right with whatever god it is you choose to serve, I suggest you get that way pretty damn soon.  You need to choose before They choose for you.

Live on your knees or die on your feet….the answer is pretty much that simple to any question you want to ask.  I cannot be controlled-hell, just ask my parents!- and if you try to cage me to my allotted square footage I’d rather be dead.  See, I believe there’s a world out there that’s not like this.  I believe there’s a place where you can work hard and prosper and be secure in the knowledge that you have a right to all you’ve accomplished without someone forcing you to share it.  I believe there’s a place where firearms aren’t referred to as “gun culture” like they did the “counter-culture” of the 60’s , as if there’s something intrinsically wrong with those of us that choose to exercise our 2nd Amendment rights.  I believe there’s a place where I can go to sleep at night and know that my children have a chance for a better life than I had as long as they persevere on their path.

Fantasy you say?  Maybe.

But, the moment I stop believing there’s a place like that, it’s all over.  I have to have the faith that it exists and I’ll find it.  If I stop believing, I’m right back on my knees.

For now, though, along with this Utopia in my head, I’ll be writing for a living and heading straight for FEMA camp because of it-just doing my part to piss of the Liberal Left and dreaming of that island (it’s been a while, Naveen……)………………………………


So, I’m writing this blog when I should be paying atention to my job here at the toy factory.  I’m sorry- I’m just not driven enough.  I mean, let’s get real.  I’m BORED.  I live in a part of the country that even mass shooters don’t give a shit about and I can’t convince myself THIS is “it”, ya know?  Jesus, did I really “quantum think” myself into this?  No, no, no.  You got the wrong girl.  I’m trapped in someone else’s alternate universe and this life- this whole sideshow of stream-or-consciousness- really ins’t mine.  Mine is where there are palm trees and blue skies, and no fuckin’ snow, I don’t care what anyone says.  In the midsts of this Fog of Fuck-It, I’m trying to find my passion again.  I know it’s there, it never left me, and that, Virginia, is why my incredibly weird FaceBook page has reader s and followers as far away as Malaysia and diverse as Iraq.

Am I making sense?  Probably not.  See, I developed a persona to host the company Facebook page.  Erla Mae Whippet.  She’s saving me, I think.  She’s saving me from being destined to  live a life of intellectually starved and culturally unattached mediocrity-much like the folks I work for.  Funny thing about those folks.  The ones that think they are in some higher bracket of esteem are the ones I don’t trust.  My friends are in the warehouse, surviving paycheck to paycheck, like so many of us do.  And if they’re not in the warehouse, they THINK like my friends in the warehouse.  I don’t trust the office types, I never have and even around here there’s the potential any moment for a mini Ides of March.

Erla Mae has saved me and allowed me to appreciate how good hearted and kind and funny my warehouse friends are.  I write about them because they have a story worth telling, a story that will NEVER come out in any reality show here.  These people are the heart and soul of this business and when Hollywood rolls in they’re treated like the six-fingered step kids you keep in the attic.

And maybe that’s what this rant is all about.  Disingenuity.  Is that a word?  It should be.  There are two kinds of people in my eyes: people that are always willing to help, share or just give you a kind word.  And then there are those that exploit that.  And I’ve got a front row seat for that show.  I stay up in my office (also known as the Bat Cave) because I don’t like how these good solid people are portrayed on film.  I stay in my office because I’ve got this technical job and no one is real sure what I do, but they are sure that they can’t do it.  Keeps me from being the next Reality Show Victim.  I’m tellin’ ya, in ten years that’s gonna be the big Ism that hits the talk show circuit; “Were you a victim of a reality show and have PTSD?”….you really think I’m wrong on this one?

Screw it.  I’m going back to the Island.  Gonna wait for Armageddon with my Wall Street Journal and Naveen Andrews and wonder why I ever complained about needing inspiration in the first freakin’ place……