Death Squads

August 13, 2009

They are not going to kill Grandma.

I am getting sick of listening to all of the nastiness. I have said before that most of the world's problems could be solved by a little civility, some manners. Of late, it seems manners have gone the way of the dodo, or full service gas stations. Sure, they still exist, but you're gonna really have to look. When I published my first column in the local paper, the criticism I got, for the most part, had nothing to do with the topic at hand. I got personally insulted, but not my subject matter. A lack of interest in the subject matter seems to be afoot again. Our representatives, with all good intentions, come home to see what we think about things. They hold town hall meetings. Some of them are being screamed at, insulted, and abused for their good intentions. Some have been subject to personal attacks and death threats. There is one representative who had a swastika spray painted on the sign outside his office. How does this further the discourse? Not discussion, but screaming and threats. Not listening, but being shouted down. This serves nothing. It reminds me of little kids throwing a tantrum. They hear or see something they perceive that they don't want. Might be true, might not. Either way, they respond by kicking and screaming "NO, NO,NO" at the top of their lungs. They might miss something important, like an answer to their concerns. There is evidence that people are being encouraged to behave this way by interest groups that could be negatively affected by health care reform. I don't care whose idea it was. Fact is that instead of reading and learning, the lies and distortions are being taken as gospel, and acted on as such. None of the incomplete bills before Congress suggests pulling the plug on the old, infirm, or handicapped. It is against the law, Federal law, to use taxpayer money to fund abortion. And I've got news for you, our health care is being rationed by bureaucrats every day. Insurance companies make money by taking your premiums, and not paying your claims. They decide who gets what treatment. End of story. We pay more every time we use the system, because people don't have health care. Being taken care of when sick or hurt should be a human right, not a job benefit. We need to examine our souls, close our mouths, and treat each other with a little common decency. Really, people, grow up. good night and good luck...stimp

newspaper

July 31, 2009

I started a new endeavor. I was selected to be a community columnist for the next year in my local newspaper. I am not allowed to republish what I have written for the Trib here. However, if there is interest, it can be found at www.tribtoday.com, under Opinion. I have been writing a blog on and off for years, but this is my first real foray into journalism. I hope I don't screw it up. good night and good luck...stimp

The revolution

July 30, 2009

OK. Perhaps My Space wasn't as much fun as I thought it would be. I have had my account a around a year, and blogging there isn't as fulfilling as it was here. So I am coming back. I liked it here.

I am getting a big kick out of Twitter. It's fun. Not particularly deep, but lots of fun. Find me there at stimp99 if you wish.

I am starting to write for a real newspaper. Our local hires folks to write as community columnists for a year. My first column is tomorrow, and I am nervous about writing for it. This seems less intimidating somehow. The paper seems more real, considering I am getting paid for it. We'll see how we go.

In the meantime, check this space for more interesting blogs in the near future. good night and good luck...stimp

the 21st century

I have made a leap forward and joined the 21st century.

I now have a My Space page.

God, I love the Internets.

www.myspace.com/stimp99

Enjoy...good night and good luck...stimp

Philosophy

June 23, 2008

June 23, 2008

In the not too distant past, I achieved a BA in philosophy. I remember arguing, more than once, that dead, white, Christian men from academia were not the only philosophers worthy of study. I believe at the time I was arguing the case for the study of Ayn Rand.

I will make the case again, for George Carlin.

We used to have speed trials, in my misspent youth, to see who could say the "seven words" fastest. We had no conception of what the argument was for the use of those words. Or that he fought to the Supreme Court to use them. Only that someone was saying the biggest, baddest cusses we ever heard, on purpose, to be funny.

It was a long time before I discovered the philosophy part. How he talked about the use of language, and the way it's use affected our discourse. I suppose that sounds a lot nerdier than it's meant to. Frankly, he inspired me to use the word fat. I've been stealing some of his lines for years. "Dinosaurs are big boned." The use of euphemisms to shield ourselves from the truth. And the unvarnished, no bullshit look at what the truth was, as he saw it. Even something as benign as "Your stuff is shit, and my shit is stuff." opened a window.

And he was incredible fucking funny. One of my favorite bits came during the close of one of his concerts. He unrolled an enormous list of things you couldn't say. Must have been six feet long. And he proceeded to release a comprehensive list of some of the funniest names and phrases I have ever heard. All language, in and of itself, that was not objectionable. But used in a certain way, filthy as hell. And funny.

His books should be the basis for a master class in the use of language and culture in the late 20Th century. His examination of American culture was flawless. He seemed to want us to think about who we are, what we believe in, and why we believe in it. And to laugh our asses off in the process. I will miss him.

Shit, piss, fuck, cunt, cocksucker, motherfucker, and tits. Strangely...still satisfying.

good night and good luck...stimp

Sunday Morning

June 14, 2008

In my house, Sunday Morning always started with basically the same conversation.

"Mom, can I watch cartoons/play video games/watch a movie?"
"Later, honey, I'm watching "Meet The Press"" Or if I was feeling humorous "Press The Meat".

Yeah, I know. I'm a hoot.

I don't claim to be any kind of journalist, as some of my blogging cohorts do. I've always been a loudmouthed housewife. But I know class when I see it.

Tim Russert was class.

I watched him on TV for years, and never knew his political leanings. He was true neutral when asking our leaders, and wannabe leaders, everything I wanted to know. No partisan spin, just the facts.

I loved watching him covering the election campaigns, and watched no other network. He was on fire, and seemed to love every minute of it.

I loved "Meet The Press", because I felt like he was there asking the questions I would have asked, had I been smart enough to think of them. Many a show, I would listen and go, "Oh, yeah!". Why didn't I think of that? And as serious as it ever got, there was always a joy, and a sense of humor. Politics was taken seriously, but he never seemed to take himself too seriously. He was never one of those pontificating blowhards bringing the truth down from the mountain. He was us, only faster and smarter.

I love politics, and all the annoying discussions and details that drive my family nuts. Watching a guy dive into the process with such joy was a treat.

I spent yesterday watching grown men cry on TV, over the loss of a friend. My heart is a little broken too. And I regret losing the opportunity to continue teaching my son the civics lesson of American politics, with Tim Russert as our guide.

I guess Sunday mornings will belong to SpongeBob.
Good rest, and bright blessings Mr. Russert. And thank you. Good night and good luck...stimp

Anger Accomplished

May 1, 2008

Every night, Countdown ends with Keith Olbermann reminding us how many days since W declared "Mission Accomplished" in Iraq. Today is the fifth anniversary of that statement. As he was discussing the matter with Rachael Maddow tonight, he wondered where the anger over this has gone. How to tap again into that anger.

Mr. Olbermann, the anger has never gone away.

I have been angry about this war since before the war started. I yelled, and hollered, and argued, and wrote, and protested. All to no avail. I have been beaten down verbally and threatened physically by total strangers over this horror. I keep my sadness and anger to myself mostly. But it is always there. And every time I hear of more soldiers and civilians dying, it's there. Every time that idiot in the White House asks for more money to carry it on, it's there. It's never gone. But the expression of it is, for the most part.

I can't scream everyday without losing my voice. My anger has served no one. It hasn't saved one life, or one day, or one dollar. I never stop being against this horrid war. My conviction is the same. But what would you have me do? I will continue to speak, write, and be involved. But until we get the murdering thugs out of the White House, and get some common sense in, my voice is nothing more than air with some noise on it. And my anger is still intact. I just ran out of energy after a while. The best thing about beating your head against a brick wall is how good it feels when you stop. It doesn't hurt the wall. Good night and good luck...stimp