Boudicca's Voice

Location: Palm Beach County, Florida, United States

Recently have been told I look like Mary Ann from Gilligan's Island. I hadn't heard that in years, but that is a good place to start as to what I look like, although she had a better bod. I have three boys and have been married for 13 years. Born of a Navy family, in Hawaii, one Mom, one Dad, one sister and one brother. The eldest of three children. BS in Applied Mathematics. Consider Pensacola my home town although I moved every 2-3 years of my life growing up. Currently work in the aerospace industry in an engineering position while being a Mom. Of Celtic heritage and very proud of it.

Wednesday, June 30, 2004

If Boudicca were Queen... Again...

I am hearing that the low life terrorists have released the three Turkish hostages. Do you know what that tells me? That I was right! The Turks are scary and you don’t want to mess with them. So where does that leave us? They still have a Marine Corps hostage and I don’t see them releasing him. That tells me that they aren’t afraid of us. Wonder why, damn liberal media.

So I say, let’s go beyond the Eye for an Eye stuff. For now on, they behead one of ours, we find them and then behead them AND their favorite wife. I realize this whole, kill the whole family, burn the house to the ground and salt the Earth stuff doesn’t cut it with our ‘civilized society’. Therefore, I think we should go to my plan. It’s nicer. And easier. You don’t have to find all the cousins, parents, grandparents, nieces and nephews. Just One Favorite Wife. The End.

Stench is in the Nose of the Beholder

After the inoculation episode the other day, I promised doughnuts and new shoes to Son#3. Off we went to Payless Shoes. He tried on so many pairs of shoes I completely lost my patience. He did not receive this indecision about clothing from me. We tried on Batman sandals, Spiderman shoes, hunted around for Finding Nemo flip flops and as he tried on every shoe all I kept thinking was, “I pity the poor child who must put his feet into these shoes following Mr. Stinky Feet.” Blech. Yes, he was wearing socks. It does not help.

That afternoon we were all in Publix, our grocery store. As we were walking the aisles, Sons #1 and 2 reminded me we needed to buy Gold Bond Medicated Foot Powder and as a bonus, they knew exactly where it was located. I find this scary. Not only did they have the commercial memorized, while walking the aisles they had done product placement. Unfortunately, all Publix had on the shelves was the Medicated Body Powder, but I picked it up as I thought perhaps it was all in the same and Damn, we needed to do something.

Well, thank you to those of you who explained to me that it works. Shame on you for not telling me it has a distinct ‘medicinal’ smell. I know, I know, you’re probably thinking, “Well, what in the hell did you think it smelled like, Sherlock? It says Med-I-Cine on the damn label.” I just didn’t take it that far in my head.

We no longer have a little boy with stinky rancid paint peeling putrid feet. We now have a little boy that smells…. Like… an… old… man! Blech. It is even worse! I realize part of the problem lies within the fact he put the powder in himself while I wasn’t around… call it youthful exuberance. He has a waft of powder that follows him wherever he goes… kind of like a stinky feet medicated powder PigPen or Pepe Le Peu. It takes all I have not to gag. I am really hoping it wears off because I know, without a shadow of a doubt, that I cannot handle 9 hours cooped up in our mini-van tomorrow with him smelling like he does now. I might vomit.

By the way, my French is very limited, but I do know how to conjugate the verb Vomit. Should you ever need that, please let me know and I can assist you!

I'm not Bendy, Dammit!

Knowns: 1) I am a brown belt in Shotokan Karate
2) I suck
3) I will never test for black belt
4) I am not black belt material
5) I do it for health reasons

I’m about as flexible as a brick. I’m 5’2” 120 lb of tight muscle that does not flex. At all. Ever. My husband told me once that I was the least flexible person he had ever met. Of course, he doesn’t go around checking flexibility, so I feel certain that it really translates into, “You are the least flexible woman I have ever slept with.” Heh. Nice.

In Karate flexibility is very important. If you can’t raise your knee up high enough when you kick, you can make contact with your opponent’s knee and break your toes. That hurts. For a long time.

I have been diagnosed with low bone density and am on that power curve to osteoporosis. It’s pretty much ‘small woman’s disease’. To combat this, I have taken up strength training as well as the Karate, which is high impact. Unfortunately, the strength training can directly counter act my flexibility which causes problems in Karate. In particular, when I’ve done an extensive amount of leg work, my glutes get so tight I can only raise my leg to knee level and pretty much kick at someone’s shin. Real menace to society, I am. “Watch out! Don’t mess with me or I’ll kick you in the shin!”

Normally it doesn’t bother me and I just work with it. When we spar, I stay enough away so as to not make any sort of contact. Meanwhile, my Sensei is on me all the time about my gross lack of flexibility. I guess I kind of let it slide off my back at this point. In Karate, you strive to seek perfection, never achieving it, so I’ll never really be flexible enough. However, I know it’s a problem when the girl I work out with, who is a professional trainer tells me I need to take a stretching class. They actually have classes for that. Stretching.

I inform my Sensei last week that I’m doing this in an effort to improve my flexibility. And if any of you work out, yes, I stretch between each set and try to stretch on my own. I’m just not flexible and I came by it honestly as TGOO is the King of Inflexibility. Any ‘stretchiness’ I have, came from my beloved Mother, and trust me, I didn’t get much.

Flash forward to Monday’s training. We’re doing all these kicks and my Sensei stops the class. He looks right at me and says, “When do you start your stretching class?” I replied, “Tomorrow morning” to which he said, emphatically, “Thank God!” As a brown belt, the flexibility thing is becoming a real issue.

Yesterday was my first stretch class. It was 15 minutes of abs and 20 minutes of stretching. The 15 minutes of ab work was a piece of cake. The 20 minutes following of stretching… let’s just say, I’d rather give blood. (That one’s for you, Grau!) It was the most painful horrific 20 minutes of my life. I think childbirth may have been less painful. And I did one without drugs. I am just NOT bendy. Period. I’m watching all these older women become human pretzels. The instructor is saying, “OK, everyone sit tall and now bend forward, keeping your back straight.” I look in the mirror, I am making an enormous effort to bend forward, yet I am still shaped like a perfect ‘L’, while everyone else is in some sort of ‘V’ shape and every now and then there is some Princess Pretzel Petunia who is touching her nose to her knees. I hate her.

So now that is what I do every Tuesday at 9:30, I go to Stretching Hell. And I sure as hell hope it works. Because I’m already over it and it’s only been one class.

Tuesday, June 29, 2004

Alex In Wonderland

My Blog Sister, Sally at Whimsy Capricious , has a Blog Husband, Alex in Wonderland. I guess this kind of makes him my Blog Brother-In-Law, right? Anyway, I meandered over to his site, from Sally's, and found some hysterical postings. His Posting on The Munchkins, about his neighbors, had me laughing out loud. Damn. Someone has worse neighbors than me. Next time I Post about "Mitch" and the "Whore he lives with", I'll have to keep in mind I have it very very easy!

Check him out. I added him to my links.

I have to confer with Harvey as to whether I add him to Harvey family. I mean, really, he could be another addition to Harvey's venture into taking over the Blogosphere... :)

Firing a Warning Shot Across the Bow... Don't Mess with the Marines

From Grau's blog, I went to Blackfive to see A Marine Letter to Al Queda. Most of the readers I have, come from Grau or Harvey and are loyal readers of Matt over at Blackfive. If per chance you have not seen this letter via any of them, then go take a look. It is worth it. It begins with:

To the terrorists currently operating in Iraq,
I see that you have captured a U. S. Marine, and that you plan to cut off his head if your demands are not met. Big mistake. Before you carry out your threat I suggest you read up on Marine Corps history. The Japanese tried the same thing on Makin Island and in a few other places during World War Two, and came to regret it. Go ahead and read about what then happened to the mighty Imperial Army on Tarawa, Iwo Jima and Okinawa. They paid full price for what they did, and you will too.

And to the Terrorists, in the event you behead one of our Marines, I wish nothing but slow miserable deaths to you. I hope that as you die you realize the full extent of what you have done and realize that we will all mentally dance on your graves. And if it were up to me, and Boudicca were Queen again, all your kin would die too, to set an example, prevent their retaliation, and ensure they do not become like you. But I know our Marines and I know our military and they are good people. Your families are safe. So I will have to be content in knowing that they will seek you out and exact revenge and it will be sweet.

Theme of the night... The United States Marine Corps

If you have not been already, please go to Blog Father Grau’s place and see a picture of 1st Sgt Farr. He is the Marine for whom we pitched in and bought a kilt. The Good Gunny sent pictures and 1st Sgt. Farr looks pretty damn sharp in his new attire. Seeing these pictures confirmed to me what has become a saying of mine over the last year, “God didn’t make any ugly Marines”, which leads me to the story of why I feel this way.

I grew up in a military family, Navy to be exact. My affection and loyalty to all that is Navy runs very deep. Being from a Navy family meant great exposure to the Marine Corps but no exposure to the Coasties, Army or Air Force. I met my first USAF personnel at 12 when my father was stationed overseas and there were personnel from every branch. I might have met Army also, but that would have been at the annual Army Navy football game party held at my parent’s home during those two years. (Go Navy! Beat Army! Yeah, I’ll be blogging on that game in November…)

My most vivid first memory of the Marines as a whole, as opposed to individual friends of my parents, was probably when I was 16. My Dad was CO of a squadron comprised of Navy and Marine Corps pilots. Every year there was a pig roast and canoe regatta. Every year, the Marines would stay out all night roasting the pig and getting totally soused. By the time the families arrived for the regatta, they were three sheets to the wind, but that didn’t prevent them from participating. My kid brother, two years my junior, and I would be in one canoe and TGOO, Mom and my sister would be in another. They weren’t about to try to capsize the TGOO’s canoe, so that left me and bro as targets. I’ll never forget canoeing down this serene river and hearing, “It’s the CO’s kids! Get ‘em!” and my bro and I would paddle like hell to stay away. Of course they were so damn drunk it wasn’t hard, but it definitely got the blood flowing. After the regatta we would all sit around the pig, eating, and I would watch and listen to these men and they were hysterical. And they loved kids. They were always playing with the little kids.

I got to my freshman year in college and TGOO was again on a carrier. Someone was filming some movie about Viet Nam and Marines and some of our local Vietnamese population were being used as extras. TGOO said he looked out over the bridge, onto the dock, and it was very segregated. The Marines were on one side and the Vietnamese adults, with their kids, were on the other. He said that maybe an hour later he looked back over and on one said were all the Vietnamese adults and the other, a few military extras. In the middle, were all the Marines and kids, all rolling around tussling and playing. In the military, the other branches are always the butts of other people’s jokes, and the Marines were of many in our household, yet they were held in a different light at the same time.

By the time I got out of college, I had met many Marines. My kid sister (6 years junior) had a serious boyfriend who was a Marine pilot and who we adored. (Classic case of meeting the right person at the wrong time.) Many of my friends had married Marines and I had befriended a few as well. I could never marry a Marine; however, I have too dominant and aggressive of a personality and it would have been disastrous.

Two years ago I was attending a Memorial Day Service. It’s the biggest one in our County and I attend every year. I was with two friends. We lay a wreath every year In Memory. We're sitting there and every now and then we would see a Marine in full dress. They looked sharp. They were fit, hair cut in a high and tight, hat just right, standing tall, and they were all a sight to behold. Every last one of them. I looked over at my friends and said, “Good Lord, I swear to you, God did not make any ugly Marines.” My one friend leaned over and said quietly, “D., I think you are just in awe of how honorable they are and what they do for our Country.” So I look at the small group of Marines ahead of us, 10 feet or so, then I look at my other friend, who had been silent, and she shakes her head no and lifts an eyebrow. I look back at my friend who had replied and said, “Nope. I gave it thought. That’s not what it is. I do respect them for it, but we agree, God just flat out didn’t make any ugly Marines.”

Monday, June 28, 2004

Bad Example and Blackfive on Sudan

If you’ve never given any thought about Sudan, and you do not frequent Harvey at Bad Exmaple or Blackfive, then I’m sending you over there. There is some discussion going on about how to handle Sudan, or not to, and the goings on. Lots of stuff in the comments. I personally think that Africa is going to be another big problem… there are many Islamic Fundamentalist Extremists there. Recall my blog on Iraq and recall my reference to the Beast and the template. It’s all there.

I don’t know. Maybe I am wrong and it would be really damn nice if I was.

On an up note, nothing like nastiness in the world to make you bone up on your geography, eh? I’ll know every damn nation in that Continent within the next week.

Movies coming down the pike...

While at the movies Saturday night, we saw previews for Alien vs. Predator. Is it just me or does it seem like a modern day Godzilla vs. King Kong? I saw Alien 1 and 2 and Predator. (Did they make a Predator 2?) I am just going to have to pass on what they are calling “AVP”.

Also, there was a preview for I, Robot. That has spurred me to have to run out and buy the book. John and Beth both recommended in Beth’s blog (sorry I can't find the exact link... she has a lot of archive!) a month or so ago, and now I have to read the book before I see the movie. Of course, I’ll see it. It’s an action film. My husband will insist.

There was also the preview for M. Night Shyamalan’s new movie, The Village. I hear people say they haven’t liked some of his movies, but I have to say, I’ve enjoyed them all, so I’m looking forward to it coming out, even though it’s going to scare the bejesus out of me. I’m one of those people that puts their hands over their eyes and peeks through their fingers or pulls their knees up to their chins, kind of like a pseudo sitting fetal position.

Then, there was some movie about a Zebra that horse races… I am hoping to pass on, but if it gets a G rating, may end up seeing it with the boys, who had me see Garfield last week. I actually pulled a Great Omnipotent One and tried to sleep during it, but it was too noisy. Do you ever catch yourself doing something and think, “Oh my Mom/Dad does that?” Well, as I was leaning my head back, slowly, on the back of the seat, and ever so slowly closing my eyes I thought of TGOO. I’ve seen him do that way too many times when he is bored out of his mind.

Elmo Underwear is NOT cool... Who Woulda Thunk...

Grr. Today was just one of those days. I was sitting at a stop light, minding my own business when some twirp in a POS beat up car rear ended me and then took off, fleeing the scene of the accident, crossing over 4 lanes of traffic and running a red light, probably because he didn’t have insurance. Or a license for that matter. Damn. And it’s a new van too. I got it last week. Luckily the damage is minimal. I don’t want to get it fixed but my Better Half does. To me, it just takes away that feeling of waiting for the first ding in a new vehicle. It’s done now.

I was on my way to take Son #3 for his Kindergarten shots. Vaccinations completely suck when they’re totally cognizant. The screaming and whining and gnashing of teeth. Blech. So I didn’t tell him we were going. I mean, if I have to listen to the junk about it, let me at least minimize the time. I told him I got a sitter for ‘his brudders’ so he and I could go get doughnuts, buy some new Spiderman shoes, and by the way, we’re stopping by the doctors so he can make sure you’re healthy for kindergarten. It was the truth… I just left part out. Like the shot part.

So we get there and as the nurse leaves she says he needs to be in his underwear for the doctor to check him over. Oh, I get so much grief. No kidding, he said to me, “Mom! If I knew I was coming here, I wouldn’t have worn my stupid Elmo underwear! I would have worn Spiderman!” Well, I never thought of that.

It went well, he is well, and he was very brave during the shots. I was more nervous than he was because I was emotionally scarred by Son#1, four years ago. When I took Son#1 for his shots, after the second one (I swear to you this happened), he screamed at the top of his lungs, “YOU HIT MY BONE!” and then he leaped off the table and ran down the hall and I had to chase him down like a dog and bring him back for the next shot. After an event like that, you just never know how the rest of them will react. God blessed me with only one of those. The other two handled it like champs. Phew.

Litmus Test

I think I have a litmus test for Iraq. I know, we’ve handed it over, but maybe we should have performed MY test before we did. Tell all of Iraq that a surprise awaits them at a specified location at a specified time and everyone needs to turn out. Then release Saddam at that place and time. If they stone him to death and tear him limb from limb, then they are worthy and they rule themselves. If they take him in and hide him away, folding him back into their culture, then we do as Contagion says and turn the place to glass. The End.

I know, there are holes in it. I would work out the kinks for W., but he went ahead and pulled a fast one. His idea was probably better. I mean, he is the President and all.

Sunday, June 27, 2004

Read My Lips... With Glasses

The following is a conversation I had with my Better Half (BH) at the Atlanta Bread Company last night as I was eating my cheesecake and HIS Cuban sandwich.

Me: “You know, I think I saw Britney Spears on TV while I was in the gym. Well, I know I saw her, but I think she was getting a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame.”
BH: “Really? Did they not say it was her?”
Me: “Oh, I don’t know. I was on the elliptical machine blasting Blink 182, reading lips.”
BH: “Well did it look like her? I mean, Come On. We’re talking Britney Spears. How could you not know if it was her?
Me: “I didn’t have my glasses on, so I wasn’t sure.”
BH: “Wait. You mean to tell me that you go to the gym and read lips, without your glasses on?”
Me: “Oh. This is probably why I suck so badly at it.”

The only words I picked out today during my lip reading game was, “Twelve Thousand Dollars” and I think it was because the guy said it with big mouth motion like Dora doing the Whale scene from “Finding Nemo”.

Anyway, I’m pretty sure it was Brit I saw on TV on the Walk of Fame. In all actuality, it was difficult to see because there were so many people around her. However, they had her dancing all over in other scenes, I gather it was 5 minutes of Brit on the news, so I did get a good look at her and I’m really not so blind. I have this to say to Ms. Spears, besides the fact I really don’t like her music, “Girlfriend, quit bleaching your hair or it’s going to crack and break off, leaving you bald.”

Well, Just Damn. What is with these people who HAVE to be blonde? That is pretty much everyone in Palm Beach County… but me. I am a brunette, when I’m not freaking out my Better Half and trying to go black. (I have always wished I had black hair. It looks terrible on me. My skin is too pale and I have blue eyes. I look like Morticia Adams when I go black.) Britney’s hair looks terrible. It looks like cotton and she needs a good clean cut to finish off those ends. Blech. She looks like total skank to me. But then again, what in the hell do I know? I’m a stay at home Mom. She’s a gazillionaire. I’d rather be me.

I'll have a Breast with that...

Something Johnny Oh and Harvey blogged on made me reflect upon the days I used to work for pay. I think what I do now is more difficult, but my job in the aerospace industry was far more exciting and paid better. Still, I know I made the right choice and don’t regret staying home and raising my kids.

I could never work with the public. I’m going to sound snobby, but the public is full of people with low intellect and I just flat out can’t handle it. Large groups of the general public are annoying and I have always found it to be thus. In 9th grade, we were required to take a test to determine potential career choices. One of the questions was, “Do you want to work with people?” I thought they meant the general public, so I gave it the equivalent answer of “Hell No!” That answer, along with some others along the same general line, led to my computer generated career result, “Meat Cutter.” I worked as a waitress in a steakhouse through college and a good friend of mine was the “meat cutter”. Talk about a damn lonely job. He would be in this tiny cold room with meat and a radio, cutting meat all day long while I was out waiting on the general public, a rather grouchy group when hungry, but I think he had the better job.

I knew that wasn’t my fate, a meat cutter, I did need more interaction than that. After college, I ended up working for an aerospace firm starting in analysis positions and moving on to engineering positions. The people I worked with, both in the military and within the company, were the funniest people I have ever met. Engineers are a riot, if you can get them out of their shell and in their element. It just takes time.

Looking back I realize that I lived in sort of a cocoon. It was all highly intelligent people. I was treading water sometimes to keep up with them. Our engineering aides were smart as hell. They usually came from the shop and decided they wanted to be on our end. The only difference between them and the engineers was the degree. Perhaps it was opportunity.

Anyway, the last group I was in was my favorite. Someone found a test very similar to THIS 'Are You Going to Hell' TEST and we all took it. (This one is missing one question. It doesn’t ask you if you slept with your cousin. On this test I scored a 110 and no, on the other test I’ve never slept with a cousin. Blech! Also, this is an R rated test, so if you are at work, your web blocker may not let you take it. Consider yourself Warned.) Keep in mind, I’m the only woman in the group. We were cracking up at our scores, sharing it, when we realized one of our guys had scored so high, the test said “You’re a Danger to Society. Who let you out on a Day Pass?” The next morning, someone had found Crime Scene tape and taped his cube shut. We were dying. He did NOT think it was so humorous. (For weeks when I saw him, all I could think was, “I bet you answered ‘yes’ to ‘slept with your cousin’ on that test. Blech.”)

Right before I left, we had the annual group lunch the company paid for every year. I was only part time, having gone back to work after the kids were born, but only working 20 hours. So I left before lunch every day and couldn’t make it to the group event, which was just fine by them, because they had big plans… BIG plans! About 30 minutes away, a strip joint opened up called Rachel’s. It got all these good reviews for their steaks and lunch buffet. No kidding. It’s a steak house too. Our company was in the process of closing our plant down here, so all the big guns were working up in CT. The guys took the opportunity to write up that they were going to a steak house and since the receipt from Rachel’s evidently read Steakhouse, they got it through. The only group of guys I knew who took their group event to a strip club. The next morning they were all huddled in my cube talking about it. God, we laughed for days.

I think that’s what I like about the blogosphere. It kinda reminds me of those guys.

A New Doll for your Daughter... or Son???

I saw this article about Lesbians in Fashion this morning in the NY Times. I was just browsing through the article when I noticed what I thought was the most interesting part of the article. It’s not that Lesbians in Fashions aren’t interesting, but I’m not a Lesbian and I’m not into Fashion, so I clicked it for curiosity, not because the topic was something in the least bit appealing.

"I have this theory that lesbians start certain fashion things," said Stephanie Perdomo, the creator of a new collection of action figures called Dyke dolls, which will be sold on the Internet starting in July.”

Did you catch that? It’s not her quote that had me do the double take. It’s what she is creating for the internet. And then there is this:

“Still, the least obvious conclusion to be drawn from the Von Dutch trucker cap phenomenon might be that it originated among a bunch of gender-obsessed young lesbians — the prototypes for Bobbie the Dyke doll. "Trucker hats, wallet chains, cowboy boots and straw Stetsons, all that started with gay women and was transformed into street fashion,"…”

Bobbie the Dyke doll. OK, who is going to buy that? Is there really a mass market I am unaware of for Dyke dolls?

Enough Rope?

I hear the militants have now taken three (3) Turkish hostages and are threatening with beheading. I may be way off base here, but the Turks have not ever seemed like a group that should be messed with. I’ve always thought of them as kind of tough and scary. I mean, before we went to war, we sent some high level people to smooth things over with the Turkish government so we could use their air space, etc.

Harvey posted in my comments on Iraq that Turkey was an excellent example of what a Muslim country can be. I think he may be right. I’m sure it’s not perfect, not being an expert on Turkey, but I never hear about Islamic Fundamentalist Extremists over there.

So here’s to hoping that the militants have finally taken enough rope to hang themselves. Here’s to hoping that if they behead those three (3) hostages, and I pray they do NOT, that they receive the bitch slapping they so rightly deserve from the Turkish government.

Saturday, June 26, 2004

If You Can Dodge Traffic, You Can Dodge a Ball…

What do you do when your plans cancel and you still have a sitter? You go to a movie. We love going to movies. It’s a great escape. It’s not the same as renting either, because he can rent a movie and I’ll read a book, the newspaper, or a blog instead. If I’m in my house and I have down time, I read. Period.

Today, I was feeling sorta kinda melancholy so when he asked me what movie I wanted to see, I sure as hell wasn’t going to say, “Notebook!”. Yeah. Right. Let’s see a movie that makes me want to slit my wrists. So I said instead, “Something light and funny” to which his reply was, “OK, let’s see Dodgeball.”

Allow me to inform you that ‘funny’ movies such as ‘Dodgeball’ are not my brand of humor. I just find them stupid and silly. I didn’t see Dumb and Dumber, I’ve not seen Zoolander, and they all may be terrifically funny movies, but if I have a sitter, which is a rare event, I want a sure thing. I don’t want to leave the theater thinking, “Damn. I wasted two hours seeing THAT when I could have seen something else!” Movies I think are funny are, “Four Weddings and a Funeral” and “Waking Ned Divine.” It appears to be a trend for British movies, but keep in mind, two points do not make a trend! Well, I do love Monty Python too, but I just prefer more serious comedy, if that makes sense. So when my better half said, “Dodgeball”, I thought, “Phht. Ok.”

Off we went, my expecting nothing and I am sorry to say, I laughed. A lot. And hard. Very hard in some places. It’s not a movie I can recommend because everyone’s tastes in movies are different and God only knows what kind of funked out mood I was in, but I did laugh. We are sitting through the credits and I look at my better half and say, “I cannot believe I laughed at that movie” and he replied with an incredulous look regarding my statement, “Why?! That movie had some funny shit in it!” We are still trying to figure how why it’s funny when someone gets hit in the head with a dodgeball… even after it has already occurred 50 times previously.

Meanwhile, still not wanting to go home (hey, we had a sitter… I considered it a grand escape!) we stopped by some new franchise place called, “Atlanta Bread Company” where I ordered a piece of chocolate truffle cheesecake. I am a carb freak. Add chocolate to it and I am putty in your hands. This terrible evil combination is what keeps me from my ultimate goal of achieving the body Linda Hamilton had in Terminator 2. Anyway, my better half ordered a Pork Cuban. He ate half. And I unfortunately ate the other half. After eating my cheesecake. I’m going to be in the gym reading lips tomorrow. But man o man, it was good.

2004 Democratic National Convention- Official Program

I cannot Post only sad thoughts today! That’s not right. So, this was passed to me by The Great Omnipotent One. We have no idea who the creative person is, but if I did, I promise I would give credit where it is due! Without further ado:

2004 Democratic National Convention -- Official Program

6:00pm - Opening flag burning ceremony.

6:05pm - Pledge of Allegiance to the United Nations

6:10pm - Secular words by Revs. Jesse Jackson and Al Sharpton

6:30pm - Anti-war concert by Barbra Streisand.

6:45pm - Ted Kennedy proposes a toast.

7:10pm - Collect offerings for al-Zawahri defense fund.

7:45pm - Anti-war rally moderated by Michael Moore.

8:25pm - Ted Kennedy proposes a toast.

8:30pm - Terrorist appeasement workshop.

9:00pm - Gay marriage ceremony for male and female couples.

9:30pm - CBS, NBC, ABC, CNN urge defeat of President Bush.

10:00pm - Posting the Iraqi Colors by Sean Penn and Tim Robbins

10:10pm - Reenactment of Kerry's fake medal toss.

10:20pm - Cameo by Dean 'Yeeearrrrrrrgh!'

10:30pm - Abortion demonstration by N.A.R.A.L.

10:40pm - Ted Kennedy proposes a toast.

10:50pm - Special thanks to the New York Times & Washington Post.

11:00pm - Multiple gay marriage ceremony for threesomes and groups.

11:15PM - Maximizing Welfare workshop.

11:30pm - Saddam Legal Defense Fund pep rally.

11:50PM - Ted Kennedy proposes a toast.

12:00am - Nomination of Democratic candidate.

NEW: 5:00am -Ted Kennedy Will Conduct a Swimming Class.

Sadness and Sorrow

Warning: This is not a happy Posting.

I am not one to cry, but some things are just too sad not to.

There is a little girl in Son #1’s class who had an older brother. The brother was diagnosed with brain cancer, at the age of 11, probably in October, if I recall. He had had a type of brain cancer when he was 5 that rendered him blind and after they operated the surgeons told the family that radiation therapy was the best chance, but to keep in mind that brain tumors were a side effect later in life. Later to the Mother meant 20-30 years, not 6. But it was not to be, that this child would stay well, and five years later it was back, and with a vengeance.

I do not know these people well. I’ve spoken to the Mother once. But it came home to all of us that they needed people to take dinners to the family and going to a small Catholic school, this is what we do; we pull in and support each other. My day to take dinner there was the last day of school before Christmas break.

I arrived at their home, in the morning as I knew they would be traveling back and forth to Miami for his treatments, in the afternoon. As long as he wasn’t uncomfortable or in pain, they were doing treatment to prolong his life. Miami is an hour and half hellish drive. They were making it every day. When I pulled into their drive, an older daughter and friend were sitting on the front lawn waiting for me. Their mother was sleeping, trying to catch any sleep she could, between having a new baby and a son dying of brain cancer. The house was decorated for Christmas. There was great effort to keep life normal. It was Christmas, a time to be happy and joyful and celebrate. I left there feeling empty and sad. A sadness that gripped my heart for days.

My parents came for Christmas and arrived on that day. I hadn’t spoken of what I had seen to anyone until dinner. What is it when you’re with your parents that things just pour out? And it did and I found myself choking up as I talked about this family and this child dying and how horrible it was and how blessed I am. My parents listened and I could tell were equally saddened by my description of the events.

Today I read that the little boy died. I won’t go to the funeral. I don’t know what to say and "I'm Sorry" to someone who barely even knows my face, seems so hollow and shallow. As I said, I only spoke to her once and that was over two years ago. I am a nameless face. I will make a donation in his name. But attend, I cannot. The death of a child is the most horrific of all horrors. I consider myself a strong person, but today, I think, not strong enough.

Friday, June 25, 2004

My Son the Artist Part II

This is Part II of my two part series, inspired by Harvey and Frank J., on my son’s artistic capabilities.

These events occurred in 2nd grade. We’ve moved past stick figures and sea serpents. At the urging of a friend of his, he draws a picture of a stick figure watching the school as it blows up. Now he can read; now there are captions. Keep in mind, he loves school. It was just something to draw, but now that there are captions actually admitting that it’s a school and it’s blowing up, and there are assorted bombs all over, it is now not funny to the new teacher, who I always thought was an edgy psycho who took things too seriously, and to her, this is all GREATLY disturbing. Alas, he gets in big trouble. The whole time he’s saying to me, “I don’t get why everyone is mad! The school was empty! Nobody got hurt!” Well, you just don’t draw pictures of schools blowing up anymore, especially when you go to Catholic school. We had to discuss appropriate vs. inappropriate drawing topics. A topic I am sure we will discuss in the future, yet again, if he moves past stick figures and realizes girls are around for other things than to harass.

We are now getting closer to his 1st Holy Communion. I’m not Catholic, but my husband and children are. There is this prayer called the Hail Mary. The assignment of the class was to create a book and write the prayer with a single line from the prayer at the top of a page and then draw what it means underneath. There is a line in the prayer that goes something like, "And this at the hour of our death”… you can only imagine.

They post these books in the hallway. I happen down the hall and start looking for my artistic son’s rendition. I flip through it and get to that magical line. He drew a coffin, he’s in it, dead, with X’s over his eyes. Now I’m thinking, “Ok, very practical and reasonable, but how did the OTHER children interpret this?” I start flipping through all the books.

Girls. All the same. Every one of them, balloons, holding hands with Mary, green beautiful grass, birds chirping, rainbows, flowers, angels, love love love.

Boys. Death. In a variety of ways. Seems my son’s was one of the most tame. Who woulda thunk? I’ve got the kid who had a stick figure blow up the damn school. (BTW, it was a good spatially accurate drawing of his school… even if it was exploding. He had all the windows in the right place, got the number of floors correct, got the shape right… I digress.) I flip open another boy’s and he has a picture of himself, his mother has been in a car wreck, and he is flying through a windshield of his mother’s vehicle, evidently not wearing a seatbelt, and splats onto another car. And dies. How many times has this kid probably heard, “If you don’t put on your seat belt, and I get in a wreck, you’ll fly through this windshield and die!”? Hmm. I gather a lot. Nice.

The last and my personal favorite, was this one boy’s that has himself drawn in a hockey goal, having been bludgeoned to death. Blood all over. He’s lying in the bottom of the goal. Dead. Wha??? Damn. What in the hell did those parents let that kid watch on TV?

Boy art vs. girl art. It isn’t the same. But boy Art is much more fun. (Big Grin)

A Fall From the Ivory Tower

I will not be as nice or as damn funny as my Blog Sister Sally of Whimsy Capricious. Well, at least not as nice as her opening line! If you have not read Sally’s entry concerning her brother in law, “Now I wouldn’t say we HATE my brother in law exactly…” it completely cracks me up. Maybe it also helps that I know she is British and so there is the amazing politeness combined with humor that I find both endearing and hysterical. Check it out if you can.

That said. I hate my neighbors on the left side. Arrogant. Egotistical. Self-Righteous. I’m trying to be nice. On a side note, there have been many things done and said as of late, with regard to my neighbors, which is leading me to this vent. Also let me note that I am an incredibly polite and gracious neighbor. You WANT people like me and my husband living next to you. With that, I will continue with: I cannot stand him so much, including the whore who lives with him, that when their yappy little POS punt puppy dog ate that horrible nasty big ass toad and died 20 minutes later, I felt completely miserable… for the dog. I love dogs. And animals should never have to suffer. I did not feel sorry for the owners. At all. Not one bit of remorse, as she stood crying on my doorstep telling me how she held her puppy while it died. Inside I was thinking, “Oh My Lord, I hope that dog didn’t suffer” and simultaneously thinking, “Get the f---- off my porch, b----.” All while being very pleasant, nodding my head in disbelief and muttering, “Oh, that is simply awful” in my best funereal tones, that I have come to master.

I’ve been mulling over who he reminds me of since we spoke with him this morning. I’m going to stereotype here, so my apologies if I offend with my sweeping generalization, but he reminds me of a high school baseball player. Now I don’t know what it was like where you grew up and went to school, but my school was big into athletics. I personally think this is typical of Southern High Schools. When I was in HS, the goal was to be such an awesome football player that maybe, just maybe, you could go play for The Bear at ‘Bama and if you were into baseball, get picked up to the Pros, which many of our baseball players did. I got along with the football players pretty well. Most of them wanted to hang with me so they could pass Math or Chemistry and I found them endearing, as they were almost always very thankful. The baseball players, hell, they didn’t need my help or anyone else’s because they were ‘God’s Gift’! Arrogant beyond all comprehension. Walking tall. Strutting. Always with some blonde cheerleader bombshell on their arm or maybe a harem following 3 feet behind. I found them to be repulsive. Still do. I have a difficult time with the inequities in life, we pay men millions to hit a small ball with a big stick, while they scratch their crotches and chew tobacco. Meanwhile, some of the most brilliant people I’ve ever met get paid 70K a year to invent and perfect things that will have serious life altering impact upon the Average Joe. Whatever. My issue.

So this is who “Mitch” reminds me of. That arrogant jerkface self-righteous baseball player in High School and unfortunately, he has a ton of money and seems to think he can take whatever he wants. It’s tough to be him. Divorced with two daughters, his kids live with his ex so he sees them on a weekend or two (suits him fine), big house, big money, blonde bimbo he sleeps with but isn’t committed to, and a baseball batting cage in his backyard. I am secretly hoping that life will eventually show him what a long fall it can be from that Ivory Tower.

Thursday, June 24, 2004

My Son the Artist... Part I

Harvey has something on stick figure humor today and a link to a very funny stick figure cartoon created by Frank J of IMAO, which of course reminded me of a couple stories. I have also come to realize from Frank’s stick figure cartoon, that the stick figure art I have in this home is not a phase. I gather from Harvey’s comments and Frank’s drawing, that this is something that will be in my life… forever. And it is very funny, so I’m cool with it. This is part one of a two part series.

Son #1 was in 1st grade and he loved to draw. He didn’t care much about the detail, but cared more about what was happening in the picture. Day after day, I would receive picture after picture of stick figures, being eaten by sea serpents. They would be sitting on a boat deck and suddenly get eaten. Or there would be 10 – 20 of them holding hands on the bottom of the ocean and a great three (3) headed serpent would swoop down and eat them. It was graphic, for stick figure art. There was a lot of dismemberment with swirly blood floating in the ocean. The line of stick figures in the water? Oh some would be missing heads, while others were eaten in half. There were stick bodies floating in the water. It was funny in a sick way, but I kept waiting for his teacher to send us to group counseling as a family. Surely she thought something was seriously wrong with us.

One day I opened his backpack and there was this picture of a little girl, in two-dimension, she wasn’t a stick figure, holding a heart balloon, blue birds are flying, there’s a rainbow, love love love, life is good. I looked at Son #1 and said, “Hey, did you draw this?”, while quietly smirking to myself. Indignantly he yelled, “HEY! That’s not mine!” No kidding. The next day I get in carpool pick up and as he gets in the car I yell over to his teacher. She walks over and I tell her I have a piece of artwork that I think is not ours. I pull it out; she looks at it and smiles and says, “Oh! This DEFINITELY is NOT yours!” and starts to laugh. I replied, “I’ve been waiting for you to send us to family counseling” and she laughed again and said, “Why? You have a boy?” I loved his teacher!

Snips and Snails and Puppy Dog Tails

I have this list of topics I know I’ll eventually blog on and Grau’s blog on his dog reminded me of this one.

My kids are deathly afraid of dogs. I find this to be exceedingly unfortunate because I LOVE dogs. Medium size and big dogs. Not the little punt puppy yappy kind. Sorry if you love those, but I’ve been emotionally scarred by one of those and can’t deal.

My bro in law and sis in law have two awful nasty dogs. Well, actually, the Norwegian Elkhound is a super dog, but has picked up some bad habits from its older ‘brother’ a yappy genetic mutant 20 lb Yorkie. Damn I hate that dog. It snips and snarls and yaps and is just mean and has been since the minute they brought that daggum thing home. So the Elkhound, a dog that is basically a big teddy bear, has learned these bad barking habits from this yappy little POS. But when an Elkhound barks, it is a bellow! Big and loud! And scary. Especially if you’re 7.

Because of these two dogs, my kids are scared to death of all dogs. So to rectify this, I have decided we are going to get a dog. A big one. A lab. About 3 years old. To satisfy my needs, it cannot be a puppy. I love babies, just not to live with. I’m over the baby “insert any mammal name here” stage. After three kids, I will love on other people’s babies, play with their puppies, smooch on their kittens, but then… they have to go home. So I have to have an older dog.

My kids are aware of the fact we are getting a dog eventually and are a bit nervous. I took them to an acquaintance’s house the other day and she has both a yellow and black lab, both over the age of 3. Beautiful dogs. Very sweet. The yellow lab is very friendly, but his big waggy tail, slurpy tongue, and wet nose, still scares Son #2. However, the black lab is blind, so he just stands there.

On our way out, Son#2 said to me, “Ok Mom, we can have a dog, but can we have a blind one?” Our new specs for our dog now are: Lab, 3 years old, loves kids, and blind. Go figure.

Personality Cocktail

First, I am a complete coding novice. I'm in the process of adding some things to my blog, important things like a damn Blog Roll, but it is taking time since I only have small bits of time to spend and not the hours I need to truly understand what I'm doing. I am getting a lot of assistance, so I don't want to give the impression I'm flailing, because I'm not. Harvey and Grau have provided a lot of assistance, I've been on-line, and even bought a book. It's just the length of time required I do not have.

That said, I was over at Castle of Argghhh! and found this funny quiz. It's a "What personality elements make up your Personality Cocktail" quiz, but the best part is, you don't have to take a quiz, you just put in your name. Now if you go look at John's, for those of you who know him, it fits. (Big Grin) I like what they sprinkle it with best! In my drink, my favorite is the 1 Part Mercy; I dont' think I provide a lot of that.

For some reason when I put the coding in, I got an HTML error and since I don't know HTML well, actually I suck, I can't pick it out immediately. So you're stuck with my drink, in plain ol' text as opposed to the cool little table they give you when you input your name. Bah!

How to make a Boudicca
1 part mercy
3 parts humour
3 parts beauty
Blend at a low speed for 30 seconds. Add caring to taste! Do not overindulge!

Wednesday, June 23, 2004

When in Rome...

Am I wrong, or isn’t there some saying that goes, “When in Rome, do as the Romans do”? Does that not translate into Arabic? Perhaps it should be for Arab countries, “When in Ireland, a hugely Christian Country, do as the Irish do: One wife. Jerkface.” Take a look at this link that I got from John over at Castle of Argghhh! And when I read this article, what jumped out at me is that the Irish have an equivalent of the ACLU. Ha! And we thought we were the only ones!

Next stop... Cuba!!!

Wha? Am I missing something here? Just because I don’t WATCH the news, did I miss some big deal with Cuba?

Now maybe it’s just me, but Cuba isn’t even on my radar and their physical proximity is pretty damn close to me. Let’s see, on my radar I see Iraq, North Korea, Afghanistan, Iran, and a whole mess of stuff in Africa that I kind of prefer to put blinders on and not deal with, although gut feeling is its bad bad bad over there. Hmm. Did I mention Cuba? I didn’t think so either. Fidel must be feeling lonely and left out. Nobody has been openly hating him lately. Tell me Fidel, could we be just a little more Narcissistic? I think not. Are you sure Bill isn’t a long lost son? Check on that for me, will ya?

It took me forever to find this damn article on line. Everyone wanted me to subscribe. Bah! But here it is. Take your pick of favorite quotes. I think Fidel is thinking of quitting his day job…

"Do not try crazy adventures such as surgical strikes or wars of attrition using sophisticated techniques, because you could lose control of the situation," Castro said in a speech addressed specifically to Bush before the morning.

"You could shatter the immigration agreement and provoke a mass exodus that we would not be in a position to prevent, and you could bring about an all-out war between young American soldiers and the Cuban people," he said. "That would be very sad.

"You would never be able to win that war," the Cuban leader said. "Here you will not find a divided people."

Shaking my head. You can’t make stuff like this up.

Young Foot Experts

Son #3 has the most rancid smelling feet. You cannot even imagine how pungent his piggies are. I can be in my van, toodling around town, and KNOW the EXACT instant he takes his shoes off. A foul odor permeates the air and I swear to you, if air had color, it would turn green. His feet smell so bad, I feel myself shudder when the smell reaches the front of the van. I have been at the dojo watching Sons 1 and 2 taking Karate, Son #3, who is too young to take, has tossed off his shoes and I have found parent’s heads jerking towards us and then saying, “Oh My God, are those his feet that smell like that?” Oh so embarrassing. And, washing his shoes doesn’t cut it. Once the odor is there, it sticks. I have washed his shoes, pulled them out of the wash, smelled them, and have been nearly knocked over by the remaining stench. I now have to spray his shoes down with Lysol Disinfectant and THEN wash them. Even that sometimes doesn’t work. We’ve had to toss shoes before, they’ve become so malodorous.

Today we’re driving around town and he does the forbidden and takes off his shoes. I can feel my throat constrict as this foul air is trying to make its way into my lungs. I yelled, “You took off your shoes!” to which I hear 9 year old, Son#1 say, “Mom, what he needs is Gold Bond Foot Powder. It gets rid of odors.” Just like that. Matter of fact. I said, “What?!” and in unison now, in stereo, Sons 1 and 2 say, “Gold Bond Foot Powder. It gets rid of odors.” Now for them to say it like that, in that tone, I realize, they have heard this on a commercial. When questioned if they are in fact quoting from a commercial, completely stoic they say, “Yup.”

It just reminds me of the time Son #1 was 4 and he comes running into me saying, “Mom, Mom, Mom, Mom, Mom, can we get some Skittles? I want to taste the rainbow.” It took me 5 minutes to convince him that if we got Skittles: 1) rainbows really didn’t taste like that since rainbows really didn’t ‘taste’ and 2) his head would not actually explode into some gargantuan color fruit, the color of whatever color he ate. He really really wanted his head to turn into a piece of fruit. He must’ve gotten that from his father’s side. Humpf.

So flash forward to tonight. I realize I have a source of blogging material here. I walk into where they are supposed to be sleeping, but are clowning around; they are all sharing one room as the house is under construction. I asked them the name of this foot powder again. As I’m walking out, Son #2 says, “Oh and Mom, there is also Gold Bond Foot Cream” to which Son #1 says, “Yeah, but that’s only used for itching.” I’m laughing my ass off. My resident foot experts. And they are 7 and 9. Like they’re a couple of old men who have to deal with itchy smelly feet and know it all. Cracks me up.

Tuesday, June 22, 2004

If I could I would attend...

a summer solstice celebration at Stonehenge. I have Stonehenge as my wallpaper on my computer. I'd just love to see it one day, but doing a Summer Solstice there, would be incredible.

Wait… Didn’t you mean Tea and Cookies???

My 5 year old, son#3, changes his underwear so frequently, I cannot keep count. It is not as if he takes them off and puts them in the laundry either. I find them all over my daggum house. Dirty little boy underwear! He walks out of them leaving them where he started, or takes them off and flings them to the side, and has been known to remove them without regard as to who is in the room with him. I find them on my couch, next to my bed, in his bed, on my counters. (Yes, finding them on my kitchen counter completely skeeves me out!) When I do laundry, I may only have 6 or 7 pairs for boys #1 and 2, but I have 21 pairs for him. He has this aversion to wearing underwear he MIGHT have peed in.

And have you seen little boy underwear? They come in every conceivable cartoon character out there. If it’s popular, it comes in underwear. We have Nemo, SpongeBob, and Scooby Doo. Our fave is the Hulk. My sister pointed out to me on one visit when he was running through the house in his Hulk underwear, that the people who designed the underwear, actually designed it so it appears that Hulk is busting out of his butt! I kid you not! I hadn’t noticed it, but now I can’t see him wearing them without laughing. How disgusting is that? I cannot imagine being in that design group. They had to be laughing their asses off.

So while I am on the topic of son#3, I was greeted this morning by much weeping and gnashing of teeth, coming from him. It seems that son #3 was informed by sons 1 and 2, that when he wakes up in the morning, he smells of pee and cookies. Wha? What a combo.

Rocket Science

There has been much discussion with regard to the private industry rocket that was launched successfully. I’ve commented on a couple blogs about it and will reiterate my comments here along with some other information.

First, I think its super cool that a privately financed vehicle went into space and back. I do. I love the whole space and flying thing… as long as I’m on the ground witnessing it or working on it… not participating in the actual flight part. I have an aversion to flying and no, I won’t be blogging on it anytime soon. I cannot imagine working in any other industry than aerospace. It is fast paced, high tech, and interesting as hell. So Kudos to Mssrs Rutan, Allen, Melvill and the big brains and hard working engineers behind it!

That said, I don’t see this is going to be a frequent event. Thank you to Mr. Allen for contributing a cool 20Mill to make this happen; that’s one hell of an expensive hobby. Or interest. Or whatever you want to call it. I read a quote that said, “This flight today opens a new chapter in history, making space access in reach of every day citizens.”, said an FAA Associate Administrator. Hmm. Excuse me while I beg to differ. I don’t know about you, but I don’t have a spare 20Mill in my bank account. Or 2Mill. Or 20G. Get my point? Space travel is never going to be cheap for the every day citizen. Someone has to fork over the money to make it happen and if they forked over 20M, they are going to want to recoup their money. You don’t do that at 100 bucks a pop. Now perhaps this is Mr. Allen’s goal, to start some rocketline business, but I think not. And if it is his goal, perhaps he will prove me wrong and call me up one day and say, “Well, Boudicca, this is why you are a housewife and I’m a Microsoft co-founder.” But I doubt that too.

I worked in Jet Propulsion for 12 years. Where it is a lucrative business, it is highly competitive. I’m not going to blog on the ins and outs of the industry, when you make the most money, how the contracting works, etc, because I assure you, I will bore you to tears. I will tell you; however, that the aerospace industry is just as competitive as the automotive business, probably more cut throat, and some make it and some don’t. Where’s McDonnell Douglas? They got bought out by Boeing. There are three major jet engine manufacturers, GE, Pratt & Whitney and Rolls Royce (also various consortiums). You don’t hear much about Rolls and GE is probably eating everyone’s lunch on market share, although I am speculating since I am not privy to market share numbers anymore. Even if MAKING the product is lucrative, it appears to me that using them is NOT. My perception is the government is always being asked to bail out the airlines. Nobody wants to fly after a 9/11 or when it gets too expensive or there is some other unknown factor.

Rockets is a tough business. I worked it very rarely, so I am no expert. The money made on space, I never got the impression it was hand over fist. I was always hearing rumors that Pratt wanted to sell off their rocket group. I never knew whether it was true, but big companies don’t want to sell off divisions that are making them big bucks.

Flash forward… now you have your big rocketline that people have invested in and they have now made space travel attainable for the average citizen. What happens when you have a large group of people going to space and one explodes? Hey, it happens. Planes crash. Rockets don’t make it past lift off. Bad stuff happens. People do not like to see other people explode in the air. Space travel is much more visible. Typically when there is a plane crash, the entire event is not caught on tape and hundreds of thousands of people didn’t witness it from their front yards. Think of the Challenger. Half of S. Florida was in their yard watching. (We can actually see shuttle launches on a good day from our yards. When I was at work, we used to go outside to watch them.) The whole thing was caught on TV for the world to see. Blech. I don’t like that and I don’t think people do either. One good space catastrophe and the market is going to dry up, maybe only temporarily, for space travel.

I think this whole thing is fantastic and fun, but we need to see it for what it is. A historic event for the private sector and giggles and grins for a very wealthy man and some very smart people. I hope it is more, but I suspect it will not be. And make no mistake, I think this project would be fun as hell to work on. I would have been one of the first to sign up if asked… to work on it… not fly in it.

Monday, June 21, 2004

Politics in the State of Florida- Are we Up For Grabs?

You think this does not affect you, but it may. I can’t figure out where the State is going, whether we’re up for grabs or it’s a done deal we’re going to Kerry. Either way, I’ll do my part and vote against Kerry.

Right now, I think it’s a public fight between the Christian Conservative Religious Right and the Minorities. Many will disagree with me and feel free, because I'm not feeling passionate on my stance here, but this is my gut instinct.

The minorities are still pissed about the last election. Some feel their votes were not counted, some feel Bush stole the election, etc. Whatever. But I have had this feeling and even commented once on John’s blog (don’t remember the archive) that the minorities would be out in force, ensuring everyone was registered to vote and getting them to the polling places. Last week I was in line at the Post Office buying postage. In walked a very tall and beautiful black woman. She had one of those lovely island accents. She said something to the Postal clerk who pointed to the back of the room. She walked over, took a stack and said, “Is this all you have?” She had 10-15 papers in her hand. He replied, “We’re not responsible for those, someone else is. We just let them put them there.” On my way out I saw they had been forms to register to vote. She was doing as I have predicted. It’s June. It’s time for everyone to get on the bandwagon.

Meanwhile, in today’s Palm Beach Post, headline, “Christian leaders organizing for vote”.

Barbara Wilcox works hard for George Bush, Bill McCollum and God.

And if Wilcox has her way, Christian conservatives like her, voting in the largest numbers since 1994, will elect all three. "We need to elect someone who will keep God in front of the people," said Wilcox, a retired real estate broker who is as active in politics as she in Tampa's 8,000-plus member Idlewild Baptist Church.

Gay marriage, abortion, stem cell research, banning of prayer in schools and the belief that righteous judges are being kept off the courts have enraged many conservative Protestants and Catholics who see the 2004 election as their best chance for political redemption.

Barbara Wilcox, people like you scare the crap out of me. What happened to separation of Church and State? People like Good ol’ Barb and her friends are ensuring that the two will be intermingled and quite frankly, I don’t want her religious beliefs dictating my life. I know, I know, they have been intermingled for awhile, but this, this scares me. This is what makes me so nervous in the Bible Belt. And parts of Florida are in the Bible Belt. This is why I don't vote straight Republican. THIS is why I'm really an Independent.

Florida is an odd State. We have the President’s brother as our Governor. We are an eclectic population. I’m going to talk gross sweeping generalizations here.

South of Ocala (Ocala is North of Disney World, about a half hour outside Gainesville, old home of Steve Spurrier and still home of the UF Gators) we tend to be an influx from the North. On the East coast you get a lot of NY and NJ folks, since I-95 runs from there to here. On the West coast, you get a lot of Mid-Westerners, since I-75 takes you that way. They seem to be more Democrat than Republican, in both cases. Of course, you also have a heavily Jewish population down here, which I never have been able to understand why such supporters of Israel are Democrat. Kerry won’t do near for Israel what Bush has. I digress. Then you have Miami, with a heavily Cuban population and they seem to be Republican. Our minorities in general, with the exception of the Cubans, tend to be Democrat. Move on North of Ocala, and things change. The socio-economics of the State are far different up North too. A whole other blog one day.

Up in the Northern end of the State, Ocala North, you have your true Southerners. (They exist in S. Fl too, but are fewer than transplants.) You have your small Southern towns like Milton, Two Egg, Pace, and Quincy. It is the Bible Belt with churches on every street corner. But the northern part of the State is also home of a lot of our big military bases. NAS Jax, NAS Pensacola, Eglin AFB, Tindall AFB. And we have more. Heavy military influence. Southerners tend to be Republican and so do military. It would seem to be more balanced, the Northern end of the state vs. the Southern end, but S. FL is far more heavily populated. And far wealthier.

So I’m not sure what to think. It will be interesting. I do definitely think that what we will see is big ugliness between the minorities and the religious right. Where does that leave people like me? I don’t fit in either group. I am horribly repulsed by the religious right and just don’t identify with the minority issues. (Forced to make a choice, I would side with the minorities, I just don't identify.) That leaves me going by my own values, thinking independently as I always do, and supporting Bush for I think he can slay the Beast. And I think most of the State of Florida falls where I do… Not in the religious right or minority category. That is what leads me to believe… we may be up for grabs.

Reality TV will never be MY Reality... I promise.

I don't do reality TV. I'm not trying to sound like a snob, but it just doesn't interest me and I love reading, surfing the net, quilting, or anything else. I've never seen even one episode of American Idol. All references to these shows are completely lost on me.

What I do know about them, I know from the gym. When I'm running on the elliptical machine or rowing on the rowing machine, the TVs are on and while I'm listening to my angst riddled music, I either read any captions or play this ridiculous game of trying to read lips. I suck at reading lips, BTW. Then there are commericals. That's where I get most of my TV information as to what's on and what's up and coming. That's where I saw the commericial for "Who Wants to Marry My Dad?". (Blech. I can't believe I even linked to it in my damn Blog.) I thought this was the first year, but upon reading about in on the 'Net, I found out it is on it's 2nd pathetic season.

I'm sorry, but I find this to be exceedingly revolting. More so than all the Bachelor/Bachelorette shows. I don't know why, but I do.

So please, allow me to proclaim from the top of very loud Voice, in my very own BLOG, should something ever happen to my Mom, The Great Omnipotent One's partner in crime for the past 41 years, his soulmate, I hereby promise that neither my siblings nor I will EVER stoop so low as to go on reality TV to find him another partner or companion. I do solemnly swear. And Mom. Stay healthy and safe.

Sunday, June 20, 2004

Things that make you go Blech

If you dare... Beth over at She Who Will Be Obeyed has a Post that is particularly icky and funny. If you're a man, you may think, "Hmm. Didn't know that's what occured in there... I could pass on that piece of information." If you're a woman, you may think, "I HATE it when that happens!" The Post made me laugh. You gotta read the comments. But my favorite line in her actual posting starts with "I hate you, you women who..." heh heh heh

The Great Omnipotent One

Blog Father Harvey suggested to me that I find some way to distinguish between my Blog Fathers and my Real Dad. This was a couple days ago and I’ve been thinking about it ever since. From here on out, I will now refer to my biological Father and real Dad as The Great Omnipotent One. I know, it’s long, but if I refer to it that much, I’ll just abbreviate to TGOO. That’s Dad. I called him The Great Omnipotent One in High School and not as a smart ass either. We had these napkin rings and we all had our names on them. He jokingly put that on his napkin ring and it stuck. And it fit. One of his favorite lines in our house growing up was, “This is NOT a democracy… this is a dictatorship!”, and he MEANT it! I come from a tight knit family and am very close to both my parents. And allow me to add, that all my friends completely love both my parents. They are super cool and even in High School, everyone loved them and still do.

So, The Great Omnipotent One it is. That should distinguish them! BTW, Happy Father's Day! :-)

Boudicca's Dream Works

I am at the point, where I don’t necessarily think it’s normal, but have grown accustomed. I don’t just dream. As my sister puts it, it’s like “living another life in your sleep.” Vivid, detailed, I swear I can probably smell in my dreams and not know it in an awakened state. The better frame of mind I am in, the more I’m cool with me and where I am in my life, the more I dream. When I’m depressed, forget about it. I am hitting a good cycle in my life, emerging from a very trying past few months fraught with stress from myriad things going on in my life, and I knew I was rising from it when I started to dream again.

It is tiring to dream so much. I awaken as tired as I was when I went to sleep. Sometimes more so. Depending on the intensity and frequency of the dreams, I can actually dread going to sleep. My mother has a saying that I adhere to, “If you tell someone about your dream, they won’t come true.” Superstitious or not, I don’t want any of my sleeping dreams coming true, good or bad. They have in the past, and I just flat out don’t like it. It completely creeps me out.

Last night I dreamt my youngest nephew died by being hit by a train. He’s 10 and was playing in some park that the fencing had been removed from and since it was Christmas time, the chainlink fence had been replaced by 4 foot candy canes. The park ran along side a railroad track. He and his faceless friends were standing near the candy canes waiting for the train to come by; it jumped the track and took him out. Only him. In this dream I went through all the emotions of what it must be like to lose a child in the family, sitting and talking with my sister in law and her husband, planning the funeral, talking to my kids about it, then consciously being thankful his grandmothers were not alive to witness such a tragedy as losing a grandchild.

Then I woke up. All day I’ve been in this funk. Hugging on my kids. To lose a child. I cannot think of one thing worse than that. Nothing.

So I did what I always do, I went to the gym and ran on the elliptical machine for 30 minutes, blasting Blink 182 through my headset, running from the inner demons that make these dreams appear at night.

What you read in my blog is 1/10th of 1 percent that runs through my head every waking minute. My mind doesn’t slow down in sleep either. I’ve solved programming problems in my sleep, awakened the next day, fixed the program and the solution worked. I’ve fixed work problems when sleeping. I’ve taken four (4) years of French between High School and College. My last semester of French in college, I would dream in French. I was not consciously fluent by any stretch.

Tonight I dread going to sleep. I don’t know what lurks there. The dreams are not usually bad. Just active. Just draining. But looking at both sides, I would rather be extraordinarily happy with where I am in life and dream a life at night, than be sad and lonely amongst people with no dreams at all.

Happy "Blog" Father's Day

Happy “Blog” Father’s Day to Grau and Harvey! Both have been awesome in getting me motivated to start this Blog, which is basically my stream of consciousness. I can’t thank either of them enough as they have both offered suggestions on what to do to make the changes I want, looking at my template, and sending me HTML code. Grau actually created a template like mine and has given me a list of things he thinks I can and cannot do and solutions. I have it all printed out and in a folder with my hardcopy of my template. I hope to get it all sorted out soon, but until then, they have never once seemed annoyed by my, what must seem like, very stupid questions.

Example of a Classic stupid incident, me to Harvey via e-mail (this is a synopsis, not the real text):

Me: Why can’t I get this frickin’ site meter to show up on my damn blog?! Grr! I’ve been working on it for days!

Harvey: Uhhh, I don’t get it. I see it right there at the very bottom of your blog.

Me: Oh. Thanks!

Isn’t that the typical father/child relationship? “Dad! I can’t find my shoes!” “They’re on your damn feet!”

Ah hem. So thank you to both. Hugs! -D.

Saturday, June 19, 2004

Yet Another Act of Barbaric Terrorism

Bloggers all over the Blogosphere are going to blog on the recent Terrorist act. What? You didn’t know it was Terrorism that killed our American in Saudi? Please, that is exactly what it was. Psychological Terrorism. They can’t take us out in large numbers, our Military Might will seek them out and destroy them, but they CAN cause psychological damage through our media. They behead an American, throw the pictures on the internet, release the video and 'Voila', we are all completely, and rightfully so, repulsed and angered. We are a civilized nation. Acts of such brutality play on our psyche. Please tell me that I am NOT the only one who remembers the exact picture of Col. Higgins hanging? These images are not ones easily dismissed from our brains, here in America. Living in our Free World Democracy, these are not images we are accustomed to seeing, Thank God.

So how am I feeling about this right now? Knee jerk reaction, as an e-mail buddy of mine would say, and he knows who he is, “Turn the place to glass.” The old fashioned Boudicca way of going house to house, slaughtering one and all, burning every home to the ground, would be too slow. I will probably have this knee jerk reaction for awhile because as Blog Father Harvey alludes to in his blog, NOBODY over there is condemning it, at least not yet. (If you hear of anyone who is, let Harvey know… he wants to hear about it.) It really is time for the moderates to start stepping up to the plate and say, “I can’t take it NO more!”. If that time is not here, it is quickly approaching.

There are far more intelligent and well written people on this blogosphere than I, who have posted extensively on this already. I will refer you now to two posts I have read from two bloggers I respect immensely… a husband and wife team no less, out of Leavenworth. First is John and his latest Wahabism Delenda Est entry. John has written at length and with great clarity on his blog over the past few months about the entire war. Second is his wife, Beth. I love Beth’s entry today “Reality Sucks”, in particular her last line, “But mostly, I want our so-called Democrat leaders to quit their blame games and get with the President on defeating the greatest threat our country has ever known since Hitler.” So take a read if you have the time.

Also, I put this in my comment section on my Iraq entry , but will throw it out there now. From what I understand, Saudi Arabia is in the midst of a hellacious recession. Only 10% of the country is Kingdom. That leaves the other 90% to have to deal with the joblessness that comes from the stranglehold of an economic recession. Where are they sending their young men who cannot find jobs? It’s been explained to me, from someone with family in the Middle East, that the sons are being sent to the Mosques. They are young testosterone driven poor uneducated jobless men. What are they learning? Islamic Fundamentalist Extremism. The economic problems of the Middle East will come to haunt us, not in the traditional ways we know of stock markets falling etc, but in the ways of the Beast I wrote about earlier. It’s a religious war people.

Self Centered Egostistical Jerk Face

Infidelity. It’s a terrible thing, but a fact of life. I wrote in an earlier post that I believe that in most marriages it is a symptom of a bigger problem. Occasionally, however, I think it’s because the unfaithful is a “self centered egotistical jerk face”.

I won’t buy the book. I won’t watch the interview. Give me a damn break. The media is falling all over themselves, “Look what a great guy he is! He’s telling the truth!” This is showing me he is still the media’s golden boy. “He lied, he cried, he’s telling the truth! Let’s give the dog a bone!” Look, he’s not telling the truth because he had some epiphany. He’s telling the truth because IT SELLS BOOKS! It is Money! BTW, for those who do not know, the truth is his confession as to why he boinked Monica, “Because I Could”. Duh! Like we did not know that? We saw what she looked like. I don’t know one guy who looked at her on TV and said, “Yeah, I’d like to take someone like that home to meet Mom.” So what Clinton has done, is just merely verbalize all that we already knew, to make a few million bucks. “Because I Could.” Big frickin’ deal. Let’s have a media parade. Excuse me while I skip it.

So now he’s admitted it. While the media carries on about what a good guy he is for admitting it all, let me tell you, it makes me feel like he’s even a bigger dick than I thought he was before. If he had said, “Hillary and I were having some real problems. I handled it poorly and looked elsewhere.” I would have thought, “OK, that is unfortunate, but makes sense.” (Actually, because he is who he is, I would have still thought he was a dick, any other guy... I would’ve said, “OK, now go get marriage counseling, get to the root problem if you want to save your marriage.”)

“Because I Could.” I will not blog about my spouse much because that is an intrusion on his private life. This is MY blog, not his. However, I will tell you that he owns his own business and works with the general public. He is an extraordinarily good looking man. Ten years ago, many thought he looked like Al Pacino from Godfather Part I. Now I hear more frequently Andy Garcia and have heard a couple times, a cross between Andy Garcia and George Clooney. We have a solid marriage, but like anyone else, there are times we could strangle each other. Marriage is work, it takes time and patience, it takes communication and of course, it takes good sex. But I digress. What I’m saying is, he would never step out on us ‘Because He Could.” My husband is a good man. Infidelity can happen to ANYONE. Nobody is immune. We are human. But I can tell you, that if our marriage were to get to that horrible state where something like that was to occur, it would be a symptom of a bigger problem and not “Because He Could” or "Because I Could” for that matter. My husband and I are not jerks. We are decent people who love each other and don’t want to hurt each other.

To Bill Clinton I say, “Sorry, Bucko. You can be honest. But we already knew the truth. “Because I could.” That just makes you a “self centered egotistical jerk face”.

Friday, June 18, 2004

20 Billion Questions and not many Answers

Twenty questions doesn’t apply in my house. It’s 20 Billion questions, on a daily basis. With very verbal and inquisitive boys, I get questions shot at me, at machine gun fire speed. Some of them are so ridiculous that my answer is sometimes, “And why would I know that?!”, to which their response usually is, “Because you’re Mom and you know everything, remember?” That’s a throw in your face from when they question me about something I’VE said and I say, “Because I’m your Mom and I know everything.” It is never ending and sometimes frustrating, but this is what happens when two ‘scientist’ type people have offspring. You play 20 Billion questions, every single day.

I decided to write down a few, just to give you a sample of what I hear.

I was explaining to them about President Reagan’s funeral. We were watching it together. There was an entire Q&A session that I can’t even begin to explain, but we ended up some how talking about how Reagan was almost assassinated.

Q: “Can I be President one day?”
Q: “If I were President, would someone want to kill me?” (I told them yes.)
Q: “Would you want to be President?” (I told them hell no.)
Q: “So, Mom, do you think it hurts worse to get shot in the head or in the side?”

We moved on to other assassination attempts because that is just where the conversation took us. We were now at JFK.

Q: “Mom, Mom, Mom, why did they only shoot him? Why didn’t they shoot his wife too?” (I didn’t know what to say to that. I just said, “OK, let’s turn on Sponge Bob now.”)

And two other odd questions I heard this week, not pertaining to Presidents, death, or funerals:

Q: “Do chickens burp?”

And last but not least, I heard this the other night, out of the blue, from a voice from the back of my mini-van:

Q: “Hey Mom, would you rather die by someone jumping on you or by jumping off a cliff?”

Questions are innocent right now, rather benign, but there is a Murphy’s Law type rule in my house. All sex questions will more than likely be asked while I am driving down I-95 going 75 MPH,with all three kids in the back. I will probably freak and have to concentrate avoiding driving off the road killing us all. Not looking forward to it.

Kerry Sucks

GRRR! I had this whole thing on Kerry and I had saved it as a draft. When I finally hit publish today, it saved it under the day I wrote it, which was on Monday. So click here Kerry Sucks, to see my entry. I'll get this right eventually.

Thursday, June 17, 2004

Real Men Should Plan Their Own Mother's Funerals

I went to a funeral today. If you read my blog with any frequency, you will eventually find that this is not an uncommon occurrence in my life. I do some volunteer work and a good number of my friends are considerably older than I am. So I attend their funerals and if their spouse dies, I go too. The only thing that is sure in life is death. Forget taxes, people cheat those all the time. You can’t cheat death though… it is an inevitability.

So guess what I DIDN’T wear?!!! Not shorts, a tank top, flip flops or a fanny pack. I didn’t treat her as a tourist attraction. “Oh let’s see, we’ll hit Palm Beach, the Flagler Museum, then I’ll mosey on over to the local funeral home and do a visitation.” Blech. I know, obscure reference to Reagan's funeral. I'll move on.

This women's organization I’m in, and of which this 93 year old woman was a member of, has a chaplain. Our chaplain called the funeral home to get information and the director discreetly asked her if we would plan something for the deceased. It seemed the son was not going to. He was going to have a standard visitation, open the doors, let people file in and file out and leave. No words to be said about her, no nothing. So my chapter upon hearing the son was TOTALLY dropping the ball on this, planned her whole damn funeral. Nothing that was going to cost him, mind you, but the service, the speakers, the programs, we bought flowers, everything. So let me yell this at the top of my lungs now, “REAL MEN PLAN THEIR OWN MOTHER’S FUNERALS!” There. I feel better. I can think of only three reasons you cannot plan your own Mother’s funeral:

* You are under the age of 30. I will give you to the age of 30 to no longer be a man/boy. After that, you are a man.

* You suffer from either very low IQ or are not mentally competent

* Your mother died in a freak wood chipper accident with your entire family. (Wood chipper reference stolen from my Blog Father Grau)

Other than that, give me a damn break. She was his frickin’ MOTHER! And I knew the woman! She was a damn good person. She deserved to have a few words said over her body… which brings me to…

You have not attended a funeral until you have done so with a lot of elderly ladies. Older people are a damn riot. They do not hold back. I was standing by the coffin, which was open, Blech, and there she is, looking very dead. An 80something year old woman walks right up, looks at me and says loudly, “Yuck. Those glasses look terrible on her.” and walks away. A couple minutes later another woman, who is 94 walks up and says very loudly, “her hair looks terrible! So fierce!” Well, it did look terrible, but I sure as hell wasn’t going to SAY anything! Especially not to her son… which she did. (Her son’s reply was, “You take what you can get.”) Another woman was sitting in the pews and I heard her say loudly, “This confirms it. I’m having closed casket!”

All and all today’s experience was not a bad one. Just very enlightening…

Glad to know it’s been ‘scientifically’ proven as to why I’m a ‘home maker’

Up front things you should know about me before I start this blog. I am a Mathematician by degree and practiced it in the engineering field for 12 years. I think it would not be a stretch to say I am a scientist… mathematician… scientist… yeah, same general field. That being said, my husband is a scientist, my Dad is a scientist, my father in law is a scientist, my Mother in law was a scientist and my Mom… OK, she’s a social scientist, but still one in my mind. So do we see a trend here? I hope this leaves not a shadow of a doubt that I firmly believe in the THEORY of Evolution. Not Creationism. If you are a believer of Creationism, you should skip this Post.

Check this out, The Fellowship Baptist Creation Science Fair.. I cannot figure out which one cracks me up the most. Start with the opening paragraph, “Our children are the future face of Science and we must teach them to recognize the truth of the Word of the Lord so as to break the cycle of Evolutionism dogma that is paralyzing scientific development and making higher education a dumping ground for the excesses of materialistic philosophies.” WHA????

Let us move on to the entries. Feel free to pick your favorite, but in the elementary category, I must admit they were correct in awarding 1st place to “My Uncle Is A Man Named Steve (Not A Monkey)". Moving on to Middle School, unfortunately I actually think I may know people with the same thinking process as dear Patricia, but I do believe that Jonathon’s “"Women Were Designed For Homemaking" should have been first. As my sister said, “Hilarious… yet disturbing!” And the comment from my Dad (my real Dad, not my blog fathers) was “Yeah, Boudicca was a helluva homemaker. Let's see now, she led an army of 70,000 and sacked London. Wonder if she could bake cookies.” Perhaps it is time for me to blog on Boudicca so those of you not familiar with her will understand who she was and why I picked her…

I’ll skip the High School entries and let you see for yourself. I don’t know about you, but I did an awful lot of praying in Chem Lab. Praying for the cute lab partner, praying I wouldn’t blow up the lab, praying I wouldn’t break any more crucibles because my Lab teacher was getting pissed, praying the purple dye would come off my hands because I had a date that night… And maybe it was my Prayer that saw me through with good grades and not all my damn hard work and studying…

So there you have it. Potential Scientists of America… let me know when it’s time to immigrate.

Hat tip to my real brother, “Toluca Nole”, who is my fake Hungarian and only knows how to say, “Where’s the toilet?” (Yeah, That1Guy, you were right on the translation!) I don’t know where he finds half the weird stuff he sends me…

Wednesday, June 16, 2004

Should there be a USS Carter

Blog Father Harvey over at Bad Example has an excellent blog on the USS Carter. Make sure you read his comments too. He has a link to where the discussion originated as well.

Anyone who was affiliated with the military during his administration does not regard former President Carter with any great affinity. That would of course include me. Although the years have quelled the great animosity I felt towards him while he was in office, the memories have lingered and at this point, I feel nothing but apathy when I speak of him or hear his name. Although I think he thought he was doing the right thing, and I think he is a moral man, he was not a good President. The distinction in my eyes, between Clinton and Carter, is just that… Carter I believe had his heart in the right place and is a moral man. He was just a poor choice for leadership of such a great country… especially for one that was still having a difficult time trying to get over an enormous country shaking scandal such as Watergate, let alone Viet Nam.

Take a look at his discussion. I didn’t post on it yesterday, although I commented on his blog. I had to give it more thought as his last commenter brought up some good points. However, I stand with Harvey on this. Unless we have documentation of how Rickover really felt, I can’t just believe interpretation of words, although his interpretation may very well be true. And Carter was a President, even if he was a lousy one. I have no issues with it. Let us just hope bad karma does not follow the crews aboard this vessel…

Iraq... Boudicca Sounds Off...

Iraq. Let me say up front that I have no problems with the Muslim religion. I have problems with Islamic Fundamentalist Extremists, a small, but dangerous faction within the Muslim community.

This whole thing about WMDs. It has been confusing as to whether they were there or not… it appears now that they were in fact there. If it had been proven, however, that they had not been, I’m not sure I would really fault the Bush Administration for that whole heartedly. They had a cold war mentality and our intelligence sources over there have always been woefully inadequate at best. If you look over to the Fall of the Shah of Iran in early 1979, you will find that we, the American Government and the intelligence community, were somewhat surprised by it. How good is your intelligence really when a governing power can be toppled and you’re surprised? Not so good. Additionally, I believe the Clinton administration didn’t help the cause on many fronts, but I won’t go there since I can rant about Clinton, actually rage about that low life, immoral, bastard, for pages.

I do remember being terrified of Iraq, over a year ago. The thought they could have a nuclear arsenal or some way to propel large quantities of poison into our population terrified me. I remember growing up being afraid of the USSR. I grew up in a military family so for me, it was very real. This feeling of fear that dwelled deep inside me with regard to Iraq was worse than my being afraid of the Ruskies as a child. Now I have children. I have a family and nothing can get you moving like a threat to your family. After 9/11, that is all I thought about, how to protect my family. I did extensive research on what to expect during a nuclear holocaust. I spoke to people who lived and fought in WWII, trying to get a feeling of what to expect should the worst happen to us. Rationing, fear, joblessness. I just wasn’t sure what to expect, but I wanted to be mentally prepared.

Now we are in Iraq, we have suspected that Hussein may not have been the physical threat to us we had expected, a backwards thank you to the criminally insane over in N. Korea, who convinced him they would help him get nuclear weapons, took his money, and never delivered. But whether he was fully capable of wiping us off the face of this planet or not, is irrelevant, because what I have realized now is far worse in my eyes. He was not the one to worry about. He was just some demented twisted psychotic whack job who ended up in a position of power in a country so messed up I find it mind boggling, in a region of the world that can be very dark and extraordinarily sinister, in an area over run by religious fanatics, Islamic Fundamentalist Extremists willing to stop at nothing to take over… and quite honestly, I find THEM to be more frightening. You can over throw a ruler, you can assassinate him, build distrust amongst his minions, fund a major coup, but religious fanatics like we are fighting now… that is vastly different and far more serious.

I read an article that is a partial transcription of a speech given by the former Secretary of the Navy, John Lehman. Mr. Lehman is currently a member of the Kean Commission, the group given the responsibility of investigating the 9/11 terrorist attack. He was addressing the U.S. Naval Institute 130th Annual Meeting and Annapolis Naval History Symposium on 31 March. He said some things that I love to quote now, one of them being “Our enemy is not terrorism. Our enemy is violent, Islamic fundamentalism” to which I add, terrorism is but a tool they use. Mr. Lehman brings out many good points. He speaks of how the Bush Administration, after 9/11, immediately looked for the ‘state’ that was responsible for this act… but what they found is that it was not a ‘state’ act, but the act of those engaged in a religions war, a war we seemed oblivious was being waged against us. For a good overview of today’s warfare of an enemy without state, link over to HERE.

Be afraid, my friends, be very afraid.

I will never try to act as if what happened under Hitler was not one of the greatest atrocities of the modern world, but what we were working with then was one evil demented man who, through some weird charisma combined with instilling fear in those around him and some sort of luck on his part (bad luck for the rest of the world), was able to propel himself to the top of a major government and was able to gather followers of enormous proportions. Once he was eliminated, which took mammoth exertion on the part of many countries UNITED in assuring he would not succeed in taking over the world, his cause crumbled, his minions destroyed, his people, and the people of the world, freed of his tyranny.

What we have here and now may be worse. There is not just one leader. The best way I can think of it is as a template. If you were to take an Atlas of the world and lay it out flat on your kitchen table, and then take a template of everywhere Islamic Fundamentalist Extremists exist, and lay it on top of the world, you would see what we are dealing with. We are dealing with a Beast of magnanimous proportions with tentacles so long and far reaching, we cannot see where they end. This Beast has grown from within. This Beast is in every country, in small sects. They are here in the USA. They are in Africa. They are in Europe. They are everywhere. And their sects may be smallish in size in some areas, but mark my words, they are no less dangerous. They communicate. The modern world has given them e-mail, the internet, telephones, and cell phones. They are united in their cause and they will stop at nothing to win, because death for their cause is an honorable way to die.

The French may turn out to be an excellent example, yet again. Time will tell. They do not see the danger they are in. They do not smell it. They do not acknowledge it. Therefore, they do not fear it. Slowly their country has been infiltrated with the Islamic Fundamentalist Extremist community and this will be far worse than before. They will not be able to SEE the tanks rolling across their borders. They will not be able to SEE and readily identify the enemy soldiers, rifles in hand, cutting down their citizens and ransacking their towns. The enemy is fully entrenching themselves in their society, breeding, and growing, living amongst them, working along side them. They are unidentifiable because they are becoming French. I don’t know how long it will take, but eventually, it will happen. There will be an uprising. Terrorist attacks as the Beast from within realizes it is time to convert one and all to the side of the righteous and eliminate the infidels. And who are they going to turn to? Please let us have the strength to tell them to take off. Please let us have the strength to say, “We told you so. Now suffer.”

We are not over in the Middle East fighting against Saddam Hussein and his henchmen. We are fighting something far worse with the potential to have far reaching incomprehensible horrible ramifications. And the worst part… we are not united. We are bickering. Our media doesn’t see it. Our citizens do not want to believe it. We may have gone over there thinking we were looking for WMDs, but we have come to realize that what we are fighting is much graver. And fight we must. They will not stop and we must not either. We did NOT start this. They have been using terrorism as a tool for years. We must, however, stop it. And we must unite. It is time for the people across this great land and across this world to truly understand what we are fighting. It is time to quit tip toeing around it, like we are bigots in saying we will not stand for Islamic Fundamentalist Extremists, and put it out there for what it is. We are fighting a religious war. And it is not Muslim vs. Christian. Or Muslim vs. Jews. This is Islamic Fundamentalist Extremists vs. the collective whole of everyone who is NOT an Islamic Fundamentalist Extremists, including Muslims who are NOT Islamic Fundamentalist Extremists. Good Lord. Look at the hundreds of thousands of Muslims they have killed.

Have I painted a clear enough picture here? Let’s step back to pre-Algebra and Venn diagrams. Remember those? They were the circles where we would learn about mutually exclusivity… color in the parts where the circles overlap, where they are NOT mutually exclusive. In our modern day Venn diagram we have one circle that IS Islamic Fundamentalist Extremists. In the other circle you have everyone who is NOT (that includes Muslims who do not believe as they do). You will note that in the minds of the Extremists, the two circles cannot touch. They are mutually exclusive. There is no cohabitating. It is us or them.

My vote is for us. Wake Up America. We are at War. There is going to be another Terrorist Attack. It is not if, but when. And it won’t be our fault, although our media will play into their hands and make it sound as if we are responsible for other’s actions. Support our Troops. They are Securing our Future.