Sunday, March 31, 2013


Via The Blaze

I usually don't say things like this.

But I firmly believe that Planned Parenthood abortion providers and advocates are going to hell.  To say that a person who went in to have their unborn baby murdered and the doctor committing the murder have the right to kill the baby anyway if it manages to survive what they attempted to do, and is born alive and breathing is horrendous. 

I've had people tell me that being pro-life and pro death penalty is being a hypocrite.  I don't think it is.  The person who's been sentenced to death has committed first degree murder--has coldly planned and executed a plan designed to end in the death of another person.  The person on death row is less than a rabid animal, and should not be permitted to be anywhere near civilization.  A baby aborted has literally done nothing wrong.  The only person who has, in that instance, is the baby's mother, who has coldly planned and executed a plan that she intends to end in the death of an innocent.  Her baby.  Honestly, I think almost the same of a woman who chose to have an abortion as I think of a first degree murderer--almost, because most of these women have bought into lies propagated by Planned Parenthood and the death culture of the left. 

Now, being pro-abortion and anti-death that's not hypocritical, either.  Because those who are pro-abortion are also pro-first degree murder.  Being pro-abortion is evil. 

*I am not fully anti-abortion.  I do believe it should be legal for a doctor to perform, but not for a woman to choose because she wants to end an unwanted, unplanned pregnancy.  Sometimes, abortion is the best option for the fetus, and sometimes it's necessary to save the life of the mother. 

Happy Easter

Saturday, March 30, 2013

Criminal masterminds, cont.

14.  Never, ever try to poison someone by putting hand sanitizer in their tea.  The worst it will do at the concentrations that they won't notice is make them a little sick. 

15.  Never, ever attempt to commit an armed robbery with someone middle aged and in less than good health as your partner.  He'll have a heart attack and die on scene (even if only briefly) leaving you empty handed as you run away like a little bitch.

16.  Never, ever force an under-aged prostitute (or any prostitute, since that's currently against the law) that you pimp to tattoo your name anywhere on her body.  That will cause you to be caught, charged, and convicted, and ought to get you removed from the gene pool before you pass along your own special brand of stupid.

Beautiful song, beautiful voice

Yet another flaw

The class I'm proctoring (can't call it teaching, because I'm not) completely lacks samples of the assignments.  I included samples of all of the essays I assigned in both Composition I and Composition II.  My colleague leaves samples of past student work (all good) in his discussion board-based class. 

This class has no samples.  Nothing by which to show the students what's expected of them.  It also lacks step-by-step instructions on how to write the assignments.  They're handed an assignment sheet with a list of criteria the assignment needs to fulfill, and told to get to it without being told how.

This is not teaching. 

My best students are turning in papers that I would grant a C to because of how awkward they are, how badly focused and developed they are, and how repetitive they are (as in: the causal essay asks them to compare an original movie and a remake, then speculate about why there's a difference.  I've had more than one paper turned in with all of the reasons boiling down to the same thing: y'know, women are treated different now, because feminism). 

I hate the class.  I hate the form of the class.  I hate the set up.  I hate the assignment.  I hate that we're in week 10, and are only now turning in one of two major papers (hello, this is supposed to be a writing intensive class--there's supposed to be a lot of essays, not a lot of shit work worksheets). 

I cannot wait to get back to a class that I've designed.  And I do not think I'll be using the platform for anything other than posting the textbook, which will contain everything my students will need, from instructions to assignment sheets to worksheets (five, total). 

Overheard at naptime...

Imp:  I sad.
Me:  Are you sad because you've been bad, got yelled at, and got put down for your nap early?
Imp: Uh-huh.  I sad.
Me:  You want to know how to fix that?  Don't fight with your sister, and don't take things away from your sister.
Imp:  I sorry.  I be good when I get up.  Cuddle me?

He is so cute sometimes.  But he's only four.  I don't hold out a lot of hope that he will be good when he gets up.  At least, not for long.

Random ramblings

It's yet another early morning.  Up at 7:30, feed the kids, walk the dog (who refuses to take her shit because it's raining--I nearly tossed her in her pen in the back yard), put the dog back in her kennel (because she does shit in the kitchen floor when she's supposed to be eating), and get sat down with a half a cup of coffee (all that was left, and I'm not yet awake enough to make another pot) about 8:00.

After I get my coffee drank, I need to put the clean dishes up, the small number of dirty dishes into the dishwasher, get the coffee pot cleaned up (grinder basket, permanent filter basket, and the little piece of plastic that sits over the grounds) so I can build another pot.  I'm going to need it.  My headache isn't quite gone, and I've got papers to grade. 

The imp hasn't had a wet-pants incident for a month and a half, now.  He gets to pick out a new Hotwheels car on Monday as a reward.  Two more weeks and he can have another new set of Thomas Take-n-Play rails. 

I am so proud of him.

The pixie is starting to figure out how to relax and let herself go in her potty chair.  I've tried to get her into the bathroom quick enough to get her to do her number twos in the seat, but I haven't accomplished that, yet. 

She's sitting on a step stool pulled up to the coffee table eating her breakfast.  Still.  She takes for-freakin'-ever to eat two mini pancakes and a single sausage link.  The imp is still working on his requested three links, too. 

The cats got their first dose of topical flea treatment, yesterday.  That was not fun--for them.  I held them and Odysseus worked to first, find their skin, and second, get all of the medicine on their skin.  For short haired kitties, they're very plush. 

The pup is going to get fixed the middle of next month.  She'll also finish out her shots, get chipped, and get a flea treatment. 

I need to find one of my crochet hooks.  I've finished knitting an easy, lace pattern triangle shawl, and I need to finish it off with a bunch of chain-stitch loops.  (If any of you guys that read this are in deep shit, or will be getting in deep shit, and need a pretty gift for your other half, shoot me an email and I'll make you a lace shawl in the weight [baby, standard, or bulk] and color you think she'll like best.  You pay shipping, though--I'm still buying diapers and pull-ups.)

I've collected something between seventeen and twenty papers that were turned in like I asked.  I suppose the rest have either turned their papers in to the other email (which hasn't been letting me answer them or download papers--so much for the campus email being so much better, more reliable, and safer than hotmail) or to the distance learning platform (which has been iffy in whether or not I can open their work).  Yes, I did tell them in an announcement how to turn it in--three weeks' announcements in a row.  No, they don't pay attention.  Yes, I sometimes wonder why I bother doing more than the absolute minimum.

I'm still working on Pendragon.  I've got about another 2,000 words written, and I've still got something like 40 pages of single spaced text (out of a total printed of 136 pages) to go in rereading and revising.  I have no idea how much more will demand to be written.  And I have no idea how much longer it's going to take.  I doubt I'll make mid-April, though.  It'll probably be somewhere around 200-220 pages, published. 

Does anyone that reads my ramblings have any experience in marketing?  If so, drop a comment or shoot me an email.  I can't figure out how to market my work with my limited time and resources. 

Friday, March 29, 2013

Eurgh. Grading.

Guess I'm going to get an early start on it. I've had 17 turned in so far.  I'm expecting at least that many more, and at most another 25. 

It's due by midnight, tonight.  We'll see how quick I can get this shit cleared.

Oh, fuck yeah!

I really hate the Westboro Baptist freaks.  I love seeing anything that inconveniences them--the stories about bikers and veterans that disrupt their attention-grab-attempts at funerals are personal favorites of mine.

This takes the cake. 

Phelps's spawn* was being interviewed, and a naked, 500 pound man rushed him, knocked him to the floor, and sat on him, yelling "Who's your daddy, now?" 

Better yet, there's video of the humiliation, if you have a strong enough stomach.

I would like to send a huge FUCK YEAH!! out to Billy the Fridge.

*The "church" in question claims that this is a hoax, that there's no one by the name of David Phelps in the "church"; however, I wouldn't believe them if they said the sky was blue, if that happened to make them look bad.

FFOT: Oh, HELL no.

Need any more reason to pull your kids and homeschool them?  Read this.  And this.  Common core is the current push to "fix" schools.

All it is is naked power grab on the part of the government.  They want power over you, so they're targeting...your kids.

My head hurts too bad for a proper rant this morning about this, but it can fuck off with a ginormous rainbow horse dick.

Thursday, March 28, 2013

A bit of advice...

Don't be this guy.  Murphy's Law?  This definitely applies to you.  ;)


I've had a migraine for a couple of days, now.  Mine come with a nasty sensitivity to light, and sometimes sound.  It adds pressure to the burning pain of the headache.

Oddly enough, sunshine is worst about this, and the CFL bulbs in the lamps under heavy lamp shades (the banker's lamp under the heavy blue glass shade on Odysseus's side of the bed, for instance) are less bad...and my laptop screen doesn't seem to have any effect at all. 

Stress also makes it I haven't checked the news at all today.

Wednesday, March 27, 2013

Need something uplifting

I have a massive migraine that isn't responding to anything, so I can't come up with anything cheerful or happy, or even brainless and dumb to write to entertain anyone. 

So, here's something to cheer y'all up. 

Not enjoying the week, or looking forward to the weekend.

Why?  Because my classes' first paper is due on Friday, and I'm getting tons of stupid questions--ones I've already answered in the announcements--about OH MY GOD!!  I DON'T HAVE THE RUBRIC SAVED!!!  WHAT DO YOU WANT ME TO DO??? 

I don't have the patience right now to refer the stupid to the announcement with my rubric, nor to remind said stupid that I've already said I won't be using that one, so they need to ignore it.  I also don't have the patience to be polite about the intelligence of the course designer.  Or about Blackboard for taking that ability away from the instructors.

My classes would have finished their third paper before Spring Break, and be working on their final, researched persuasive paper--at least the ones I designed.

My classes next semester will be working even faster, since they won't be blogging all semester.

It doesn't help that I'm dealing with this with a fucking migraine.  And nothing is doing more than taking the edge off of that.


This man, a recently deceased veteran of WWII (served at Pearl Harbor, died in 2011), not only nailed it, but knocked it out of the park in a letter to King Putt in 2009. 

At least he passed away before Obamacare came into effect.

Without further ado...

Dear President Obama,
My name is Harold Estes, approaching 95 on December 13 of this year. People meeting me for the first time don't believe my age because I remain wrinkle free and pretty much mentally alert.
I enlisted in the U.S. Navy in 1934 and served proudly before, during and after WW II retiring as a Master Chief Bos'n Mate. Now I live in a "rest home" located on the western end of Pearl Harbor, allowing me to keep alive the memories of 23 years of service to my country.
One of the benefits of my age, perhaps the only one, is to speak my mind, blunt and direct even to the head man.. So here goes.
I am amazed, angry and determined not to see my country die before I do, but you seem hell bent not to grant me that wish.
I can't figure out what country you are the president of. You fly around the world telling our friends & enemies despicable lies like: " We're no longer a Christian nation." "America is arrogant" (Your wife even announced to the world," America is mean- spirited. "Please tell her to try preaching that nonsense to 23 generations of our war dead buried all over the globe who died for no other reason than to free a whole lot of strangers from tyranny and hopelessness.)
I'd say shame on the both of you, but I don't think you like America, nor do I see an ounce of gratefulness in anything you do, for the obvious gifts this country has given you. To be without shame or gratefulness is a dangerous thing for a man sitting in the White House.
After 9/11 you said," America hasn't lived up to her ideals."
Which ones did you mean? Was it the notion of personal liberty that 11,000 farmers and shopkeepers died for to win independence from the British? Or maybe the ideal that no man should be a slave to another man, that 500,000 men died for in the Civil War? I hope you didn't mean the ideal 470,000 fathers, brothers, husbands, and a lot of fellas I knew personally died for in WWII, because we felt real strongly about not letting any nation push us around, because we stand for freedom.
I don't think you mean the ideal that says equality is better than discrimination. You know the one that a whole lot of white people understood when they helped to get you elected.
Take a little advice from a very old geezer, young man.
Shape up and start acting like an American. If you don't, I'll do what I can to see you get shipped out of that fancy rental on Pennsylvania Avenue. You were elected to lead not to bow, apologize and kiss the hands of murderers and corrupt leaders who still treat their people like slaves.
And just who do you think you are telling the American people not to jump to conclusions and condemn that Muslim major who killed 13 of his fellow soldiers and wounded dozens more. You mean you don't want us to do what you did when that white cop used force to subdue that black college professor in Massachusetts , who was putting up a fight? You don't mind offending the police calling them stupid but you don't want us to offend Muslim fanatics by calling them what they are, terrorists.
One more thing. I realize you never served in the military and never had to defend your country with your life, but you're the Commander- in-Chief now, son. Do your job. When your battle-hardened field General asks you for 40,000 more troops to complete the mission, give them to him. But if you're not in this fight to win, then get out. The life of one American soldier is not worth the best political strategy you're thinking of.
You could be our greatest president because you face the greatest challenge ever presented to any president. You're not going to restore American greatness by bringing back our bloated economy. That's not our greatest threat. Losing the heart and soul of who we are as Americans is our big fight now. And I sure as hell don't want to think my president is the enemy in this final battle. 

Harold B. Estes

Tuesday, March 26, 2013

If I lived in Arizona...

I would go purchase something--anything--at this gun store.  I really appreciate the moral fortitude that it took to turn down a sale because someone claimed to be making it to prove a political point.

So, what do we do now?

After the kerfluffle in Europe with the government closing the banks and robbing the people, what can we do? 

I sure as hell am not going to be trusting the banks any time soon.  I barely trust them now.  I sure as hell will not trust the government to be constrained by the Constitution--after all, they're already circumventing it to infringe on my right to own a fully-automatic weapon of my choice. 

So, what can we do?

Speaking hypothetically, you can do what the government advises: stock up on food and make sure you have water.  You can figure out a way to keep enough cash on hand to deal with the government deciding to close the banks for a while.  You can figure out a way to keep your liquid assets far below the limit set in Cyprus--maybe buy tangibles when you get to a certain point.  Consider your location.  Do you trust your neighbors not to try to rob you if you have cash and/or food and they don't?  If the answer is no, you might want to consider moving.  A longer commute might be worth it.

I cannot stress this enough: if you have any consumer debt--credit cards, student debt, car, or mortgage--pay it off.  Now.  Because if the banks get shut down, guess who's going to be blamed for the default?  It certainly won't be the banks.  It won't be the government.  

Also, consider this: how are you paid?  Do you get a paper check every month, or direct deposit?  And, if there is a bank shut down, will you get paid?

So, what can you do if you're of limited means?  You can do what Odysseus and I are doing.

We are doing needed maintenance on our home.  Paying cash, so that we don't have a huge debt hanging over us in the event of a shut-down.  We are stocking up on non-perishables.  I'd consider a garden, but I'm not sure our soil is safe, and wouldn't know where to put one, since we're in town and on a fairly small lot.  We are thinking about scenarios, and what we need to be doing with each one, while being grateful that we live in a small town with a small population of government dependents who would riot at the drop of a word.

Personally, I'd love to slap the dog-shit out of the next individual I run into that voted King Putt back in office.  I'd love to slap the dog-shit out of the members of the SWMO Conservatives Association, who helped put more leftists back into our state and federal offices by insisting that social issues were more important than fiscal issues.  I'd love to slap the dog-shit out of anyone who thinks that who's having sex with whom and how, or whether people are taking their genetics out of the breeding population is more important than the possibility of our government pulling a Cyprus on us. 

I'd like to, but I won't.  Yet. 

If we get to the same point Europe is at financially, I may well re-think that.


Imagine having $100,000 in the bank.  It's a nice, secure feeling, isn't it?  Enough money to pay all of your bills, perhaps for more than a year, depending on your expenses and where you live.

Now, think about this: your government has declared a bank holiday, with no prior notice.  Checks will not go through, and your debit card will not work. 

This is happening because the government is siphoning $40,000 out of your account.  They've stolen almost half of the money you worked hard for.  Nice, huh?

That's what's happening in Cyprus. 
CYPRUS: Banks still closed; depositors to lose 40%...

Apparently, that was only the first domino to fall.  It's not the last one. 

EUROZONE CHIEF: Personal savings accounts in Spain, Italy will be raided to save euro...

Now, think about this: how long have they had that plan in the works?  How can they possibly have had everything in place to do this without the people governed noticing?

How much of the buildup to Hitler's Final Solution did people miss?  And why was it missed?

Could it be because nowhere else in the world has enshrined in their governing documents that the press is not to be silenced? 

How long will it be before our first amendment is either ignored or stricken from the law of the land?

The answer is simple: pretty much immediately after the second amendment is successfully overturned. 

They'll come for our guns.  Then, our open discussion of events.  Then they'll take our money without even trying to hide what they're doing.

After that?  Who knows.  You'll have to ask the Jews at Auschwitz. 

"Mama, help!"

"My teenis* is sticking out, and I can't make it go back!" 

(It had fallen out of his y-fronts inside his sweats, and he couldn't get it fixed on his own.  This happened before I'd taken my first sip of coffee this morning.)

I'm so glad to have my boy home.  He went to Grandma and Grandpa's on Friday night, with the intention that Odysseus would pick him up Sunday morning...but Sunday morning, we had near-whiteout conditions and a hard, north wind that would have been a murderous crosswind.  He got home yesterday morning. 

The pixie is glad he's home, too--she really missed him.  I'm pretty sure he's glad to be home.

*If you can't figure it out, it's because you've not been around a small boy still learning to talk.

Monday, March 25, 2013

sorry, TinCan Assassin... looks like the earliest I'll be sending the book back to you is the end of the week, and next week is more likely.  I'm busy writing a new section in one of the middle chapters.  It's already a thousand words and still growing.

Criminal masterminds...

12. If you must be a criminal, choose a state that prosecutes non-criminals for defending themselves, like California, New York, or other seaboard state that happens to house a huge pacifist Democrat population. 

13.  Do knock politely on doors to see if your victim is home.  If they're not, their house is fair game, and your life won't be in danger.

Oh, shit.

Here's a few headlines from The Drudge Report:


40% grab on accounts above €100,000...

Russians stand to lose billions...

Prepare to quit Cyprus...

Destruction of a tax haven...

Scary stuff.  I wonder when it's going to hit here?  And I wonder if the U.S. citizenry have the balls to do what needs to be done either to prevent it, or to avenge it if it does, indeed, happen...

Criminal masterminds, cont'd.

11.  Never, ever try to beat in a sturdy, locked door, for that makes a fuck ton of noise to alert the owner of the home you're trying to break into.  It would be best if you didn't try to break into private residences, but if you must break into a house, either wait until the homeowner is not home, or do it quietly enough that you don't wake them.  If the homeowner hears you breaking into their house, they will call the cops, but still shoot your stupid ass.


Back to the ol' grindstone.  I have an email in my inbox whining that one student's small group wouldn't communicate with them or work with them over Spring Break, another email whinging about how the assignment sheet and grading rubric (neither of which I designed) don't match up, and another from my colleague asking me to check one of the posts written by one of his students for plagiarism. 

I cannot wait to get back on campus.

Sunday, March 24, 2013

I like salad.

I like it as a side dish, or as a base for some kind of meat (shredded ham, bacon, or tuna salad on a bed of lettuce is pretty good.  Shrimp or chicken on a salad is also good.).  That said, I also don't mind if the packager irradiates the snot out of any salad I eat, or I'll make my own.  I know what kind of nastiness creeps in uncooked food. 

Too bad the Brits don't think about anything other than "OMG!!! Radiation BAD!!!!"  Otherwise, they wouldn't have to be alerted to the fact that they're more likely to get food poisoning from packaged, ready-to-eat salad than they are a heart attack from burgers. 

Salad is not a meal.  Salad is what the main course eats.

Yet more unintended consequences

Because of DHS's order and purchase of billions of rounds of ammo, local levels of law enforcement are facing a nasty shortage

Kinda nice, honestly.  Our local cops rival Barney Fife in their levels of competence.  Four out of seven rounds on a 10" x 16" sheet of paper--not more than one touching the eight inch circle sight-in target, and nowhere near the bulls-eye--is what they consider "good." 

I don't trust cops with guns.  Especially cops that bad with guns.

I trust DHS even less.  I wish the shortage was civilian-driven instead.

Saturday, March 23, 2013

My dog, the prankster.

So, this morning, I walked the dog.  Afterwards, I tied her to the counter in the kitchen so she'd eat (she gets way too excited, otherwise). 

For the several months we've had the dog, we've done this.  Shadow, our black cat (who's too smart for her own good) sits just out of the dog's reach, and watches her.  This riles the dog up something fierce, but there's just not a damn thing she can do about it.

I found out that was wrong, this morning. 

So, the pup was tied to the counter with a freshly filled food and water dish.  I was in there for some reason--can't remember why, now--but I saw the dog look at the cat, then go get a drink.  She walked toward the cat while she was drinking.  Cat was giving her a look like, "What the fuck?  Are you retarded?"

The dog, if y'all remember, is a Scotty.  She's got the full, Scotty beard.  Which soaks up a lot of water. 

So, she gets to the limit of her leash, with half a bowl of water left, then checks the cat's location.  Yep, still there.  Staring.  With her head tilted at a ninety degree angle with her ears pointing into the living room. 

Dog adjusts her posture a bit, gets another drink...

...then flips her head up, hard, slinging water all over the cat.  I'm not talking about a little water, like what would come out of a mister bottle to get a cat off a counter.  I'm talking like most of what was left in the bowl, like about 2/3 of a cup.  Almost all in the cat's face. 

Cat turned wrong side out, and disappeared.  I didn't see her again for about two hours after that. 

She hasn't sat and stared at the dog while she's tied up since the dog got her a good one.

Random ramblings

Wanna know the definition of precious?  Kids learning to play make believe.

My kids both watch Daniel Tiger's Neighborhood, based on Mr. Roger's Neighborhood.  Daniel Tiger was one of the puppets in the Land of Make Believe, and Mr. Roger's kids have turned that into a cute, sweet, calm little cartoon that features all of the puppet characters, and teaches kids good behavior, and how to control their tempers and deal with disappointment. 

My little imp went dressed as Daniel Tiger for Halloween last year.  His "Daniel Tiger pants" are still his favorites, even though the stick-on felt stripes came off in the first wash (nearly two weeks of constant wear after Halloween.  He wouldn't let me wash them any sooner).  He claims to be either Daniel Tiger or Prince Wednesday, depending on his mood.  And I can get him to try new foods by singing the little Daniel Tiger "You gotta try new foods 'cause they might taste good," song.  And then telling him that Daniel Tiger/Prince Wednesday try new foods, and if he doesn't, he can't pretend to be one of the two. 

The episode shorts end with Daniel Tiger Eskimo kissing the "camera" and saying "Ugga mugga."  And my pixie has started doing that when I put her to bed.  She raises up on her elbows and cranes her head around and gives me Eskimo kisses with a very soft, clear "Ugga mugga, Momma."

They both also pretend to be a puppy pretty frequently, scrambling around on all fours and barking.  The imp also pretends to be a kitty (though that calls for scrambling on hands and feet).  The pixie rocks her baby dolls, pretends to nurse them, and sings to them. 

Shadow, our black kitten, has taken to sleeping in the crib* still in the pixie's room.  This makes the pixie horribly upset when it's time for her to go to sleep.  She cries, and starts chanting "Get kitty out!  Out, kitty, out!"  There's a reason for this: Shadow, in particular, is very much a snuggler.  And I missed her, once, when I'd put the pixie down for the night.  And Shadow waited until she thought the pixie was asleep, and jumped up into the bed with her. 

Only, the pixie wasn't asleep.  Shadow jumping up occasioned a blood-curdling scream, hysterical crying, and chanting of "No!  Bad kitty!  Out!"  The pixie didn't take much comforting--she was really tired--but now she searches her room to make sure there's no kitty in there before she's willing to go to sleep.

Our dog is pretty much addicted to the Purina One puppy chow.  It's got pieces of dried chicken in it--she picks those out, first, but pretty much cleans it all up.  Purina is one of the brands that didn't have any issues a few years ago, when so many brands of dog and cat food had been tainted with something that killed and injured so many people's pets.  My cats have always been fed Purina One (Binx, the cat that passed away last year, ate nothing but the Purina One hairball formula food.  She literally didn't like anything else--except fish.)  So, we got some before we brought the pup home.  We got a free bag of the expensive, scientifically formulated, special dog food from the vet's...and the pup turned her nose up at it in favor of the cheaper Purina that visibly has pieces of meat in it.  That, and a  little bit of canned food (and leftover popcorn chicken for treats) is what the pup eats.

This is the last day of Spring Break.  I return to fielding stupid questions with obvious answers, and whining emails talking about how bad the assignments are, on Monday.  And I'll have papers to grade coming in Friday. 

So, I've got today, tomorrow, and all of next week to finish my last revision of The Last Pendragon.  I'm still aiming at a mid-April release for it. 

*No, the pixie doesn't still sleep in the crib.  She hasn't slept in that crib for a bit over a year.  The reason it's still in there is because it's a drop-rail crib in reasonably good condition, and we haven't taken it apart and put it into storage, carefully wrapped in bubble wrap quite yet. 

Friday, March 22, 2013


Looks like I'm not the only one skeeved at the freakin' groundhog. 

Got some done today...

I got the wasted space in the hall bathroom (eventually, it won't be--it'll be turned into a walk-in closet for the master bedroom) cleared out of the junk we'd stored there.  Tomorrow, we'll be going out to get our shopping done*, and we'll be getting a basic closet kit: a rod and a shelf.  The empty space is 59" wide, and will do for what we need.  Especially since that's going to be where my teaching clothes will live.

We had a bookcase stored there, from when we were rushing to empty the third bedroom of my library, the night before the pixie arrived.  That's now in the master bedroom, and I think I can fit at least one more bookcase in there.  Maybe two.  That will make four bookcases, and will be enough for about half of our books. 

I've managed to get our breakable dishes packed away, as of yesterday.  I'm going to need Odysseus's help getting stuff transported to storage to make room for the stuff out of the kitchen cabinets.**  I'm not really happy with the idea of unloading the cabinets any more than I already have, right now: I have boxes stacked waist high to me (I know--at 4'11", it's not that high), and I don't have any other place for the stuff to go, yet. 

I'll be finished the hand-written notes on Pendragon tonight--or, at least, that's my goal.  Tomorrow afternoon will be set aside to start typing all of the stuff up.  It should be done by the middle of next week, at the latest.

*Wanna hear something awesome?  With the $100/year membership, Sam's Club has a major discount on my birth control ($8 off per month), and something they call evalues, which are basically instant, in-store rebates.  And this time, about half the stuff on my list is $2, $3, or $5 off.

**I'm building casseroles in aluminum half-sized disposable steamer trays to put into the freezer for while the kitchen cabinets and countertops are out of commission.  And we're going to be falling back on the paper plates and bowls, and plastic cutlery during that time, too.  All bought at Sam's Club.

FFOT: Chronically short of sleep

My brain and body can fuck off for refusing to let me get to sleep before midnight or one, despite knowing the kids will be up before eight the next morning. 

Thursday, March 21, 2013

Been busy, today.

Got up with the kids a bit earlier this morning.  The pixie was freezing, and the imp was cold and claimed to have had a bad dream (he claims that every morning, so I don't exactly put much stock in it, short of him screaming and crying when he tells me "I had scary dream!").  Managed to down a cup of coffee, then got to work unloading and reloading the dishwasher.  Then, I picked up and vacuumed the living room and hall.  Then, I washed the dog.  We've got more snow, and sleet, for the rest of the week, and the first part of next week.  So, I was planning to let her romp in the house for a while. 

She promptly crapped on the floor. 

She's spent the day in her kennel.

I spent most of the day unloading the top cabinets, and arranging the stuff we use the most on wire shelves on the kitchen table.  I've got most of it done, but still have a lot more to do, including figuring out where best to store the stuff we've unloaded until we get our new cabinets in.

I'm just a bit beat...and there's still more I'd like to get done before bed. 

Contrary to rumor, I am not hunting the lying sacks of fur that claimed Spring was going to start early.  I am, however, open to taking a groundhog that someone else has shot and turning it into dinner tomorrow.

Oy, vey.

Last night, the kitty that normally behaves herself after the kids go to bed...didn't.  Shadow tore up and down the hall, and was mean to Cricket, making her scream...and making me lose my shit laughing. 

See, I'd had a couple of things in the living room for Odysseus to take to storage: a small end table and a rolling office chair.  I had them sitting in front of a bookcase next to the hall doorway.  So, Shadow got Cricket worked up, running up and down the hall (bad kitty--Cricket had been sleepy until Shadow started tormenting her), then hopped up onto that end table.  She crouched, and waited for Cricket to come through the door...then pounced on her. 

I have never heard a cat scream in abject terror like that before.  Cricket screamed, and teleported sideways out from under Shadow, with every hair on her body, from nose to the end of her tail, standing straight up. 

I thought I was going to die.  You need to know this: Shadow is about two thirds of Cricket's size.  Cricket is longer, taller, and will outweigh her by a significant amount when her frame fills out.  Yet Shadow is orders of magnitude smarter and meaner than Cricket. 

Usually, Cricket is the one instigating things, and the one thundering up and down the hall, nearly waking the kids.  Usually, she is the one that gets tossed into the pantry and the door closed behind her.  Usually, Shadow is the sweet, quiet, lap kitty.

Yeah.  Usually.  Last night, Shadow got tossed.  She'd earned it.  Even though it was funnier than hell.

Wednesday, March 20, 2013

Kids are in bed...

Time to relax.

Not a feminist

Susan B. Anthony would be ashamed of being known as the mother of modern feminism.  She would have hated the pro-abortion movement, the no-fault divorce movement, and everything that second wave feminism insisted was the good and right thing to do, despite knowing that they were lying, and that what they were pushing, no sane woman would want, if she knew what it was going to do to her life.

I am not a feminist.  I do not think that women are better than men; nor do I think men are horrible.  (Honestly, it's kind of the other way around.)  I do not think women should be in positions of authority or leadership, whether secular or religious--they think with their emotions, rather than with logic as divorced from emotions as a human being possibly can.  And they're petty and vindictive about it, too.

I know this because I am one. 

Ideally, if I could, I would wave my magic wand and revoke the laws permitting no-fault divorce.

That's right--no more "starter marriages."  No more fifty-five hour, "Let's go to Vegas and get married for the weekend!  It'll be fun!  And it's not like it means anything!" jokes.

No more instances where a married woman decides that she's "not happy," and boots her husband to the curb while insisting that she has the right to keep what he paid for (because, in most cases, he does make more).  And that doesn't consider what happens when there are kids involved--she keeps them, too, and demands that her ex husband is robbed at gunpoint while keeping his kids from him. 

I'd also wave my magic wand and revoke all of the laws that penalize guys for being guys and having a sense of humor.  Oh, and the ones that force employers to hire X number of women, whether they're qualified or not.

A woman's place is where she's truly happiest.  I have never met a happy feminist, or any woman with children who cannot be home with them.  So, yeah: in most cases, especially where children are involved, a woman's place is in the home, with a man who can and will protect and provide for her.

Too bad that modern feminism sees that and works hard to hide it, and to mess men up so badly that they run for the hills instead.  And with today's culture and laws penalizing men that marry, I truly don't blame them.

Honestly, if I were going to drop a bomb somewhere, I'd set up a radical feminism leaders' retreat somewhere in the desert.  Because it's no worse than what they've done to two generations of men, and counting.

OpSec is more important than your kids' desires to post pictures.

I think it's great that a dad in NJ got his son a .22 for his birthday.  Even better is that it looks like an EBR, which freaks leftists right out.

Problem is, the kid has a Facebook page (and yes, it is a problem that an eleven year old kid has a Facebook page), and posted the picture of himself with his birthday present on it.  And someone freaked out and called an anonymous child abuse hotline.  Of course, this occasioned a visit from child illfare, and the cops, demanding entry into the home (without a warrant), and to look at the gun safe and registration papers for the firearms (a voluntary thing that they had not complied with). 

Needless to say, the violation of the fourth amendment rights did not fly.  And the CPS twat declined to identify herself, and fled, hiding her face from the camera phone that the man of the house was holding.

Okay, I've got a few issues with this story.  First, let's deal with the kid having a Facebook page to begin with.  He's eleven.  Unless it's set to private, with everything in it unavailable to anyone he's not friends with, it is not safe for an eleven year old to have a Facebook page.  Even then, it isn't safe, as I haven't found any controls for parents to decide who their kid can accept as a friend.  I wouldn't let my fifteen year old have a Facebook page, much less an eleven year old. 

Second, I am thrilled to death that the kid was so pleased to get a rifle for his birthday.  I would have been, too (and am thrilled that I got some airsoft toys to play with for my birthday).  However.  It should have been, and should be even if it's a little late, impressed upon the kid that you never admit to having a gun.  Not ever.  Not even in a free state, like Missouri.  New Jersey is not a free state. 

Third, I have a huge issue with child illfare.  I hate CPS.  The way it operates--on anonymous tips--is a blatant violation of the God-given, Constitutionally-guaranteed right to face your accuser.  And the way the stupid cunt drug the police into it, and didn't bother to get a warrant really pisses me off.

But honestly, the kid needs to take that wonderful picture down.  There's no telling who used it to try to violate his family.  And there's no guarantee that this is done for that family. 

Last, but not least...move.  Leave the tyrannies to the tyrants and sheep, and move to a free state.

Where is the feminist outrage?

Oh, wait--different culture.  They don't care if a woman in a non-Western country is gang raped by her soon-to-be-ex-husband, his brother, his lawyer, and his lawyer's assistant. 

Tuesday, March 19, 2013


I recently realized one of the biggest difference in cultural attitudes between now and the Vietnam era can be encapsulated by the music.  You have




The anti-American and anti-soldier forces in the left have not won the youth.  You can hear that in the pop culture music.


Social justice Marxism at its best: slithering into places it doesn't belong.

First off, the government doesn't need to be included in a marriage.  If a church wants to marry a gay couple, let them.  If they don't, don't make them.  A piece of paper stamped by your local government official doesn't say you're married--that's between you, your spouse, and your belief (or lack thereof) in a Higher Power.  If you feel married, you are.  The lack of that government-stamped piece of paper cannot tell you otherwise.

That said, the Methodist church is supposed to be Christian.  As in: the base laws of the church come from the teachings in the Bible.  Nowhere in the Bible is a homosexual relationship condoned.  In fact, it's quite the opposite.  And there is no relativism, are no exceptions, are no excuses.

Follow.  Your.  Laws.  Or else, declare the truth openly: the Methodist church is no longer Christian but Marxist.  Same with the Episcopal church (but they've headed toward Solipsism along with Marxism).

Yes, I am Christian.  No, I am not condemning the whole fluff about gay marriage--my problem is with identity, race, and sexual politics infiltrating a place where the minister can get his church in trouble if he shares his personal opinion (if it goes against the accepted status quo) outside of the pulpit.  The main thing I'm condemning here is the blatant violation of the church's rules, and the hypocrisy therein.

I wonder how many of the various leftist interest groups (gays, etc.) remember that Hitler used them to come to power, then turned on them once he was unassailable...


This one isn't properly a criminal masterminds list post, but it's applicable in that there was more stupidity than anything esle operating in this situation.

Never, ever get so drunk at a party that you break into what you think is your house because your key won't fit.  The reason your key isn't fitting in the lock is because it's not your house, and the homeowner will shoot your stupid ass.

In this case, there do need to be arrests made: how the fuck did the high school kid in question manage to get that drunk?  Whoever provided the location without the necessary minimum supervision, and whoever provided the alcohol, should be charged with manslaughter, and sent to prison.

My prayers go out to the volunteer fire fighter that was frightened into shooting a kid that lived in his neighborhood. 

Monday, March 18, 2013

We're fucked.

I've been scanning headlines, reading a story here and there, mostly about economics (because I couldn't give two shits about the pop culture icons, politicians, or people in general).  I've come to the conclusion that we're fucked.  Sideways.  With a bulldozer.

Has anybody read anything coming out of Cyprus?  They're planning on taxing all deposits.  Or maybe all savings.  Or maybe both.  That news broke Saturday night, through Twitter.  They'd buried it in the middle of over a hundred pages of legislation to be voted on this morning--were it not for Twitter, it'd've been a done deal before any protests could be made. 

Russia is not happy.  They're making that known.  They use Cypriot banks in much the same way American billionaires use offshore banks.  They had planned to funnel even more money in, through developing the natural gas and other natural resources in that area.  I would be willing to bet that, unless the European Union changes its stance, Russia is going to tell Cyprus to piss off, and rightly so.

Wanna know where I see the connection to us?  Here

About 1991*, my mother handed me the envelope of food stamps, and a grocery list including bread, milk, oleo, and hamburger meat.  I distinctly remember that the only hamburger meat at the grocery store was ground chuck, at about 80/20, and cost about $.98 per pound. 

Last week, ground chuck at Wal-Mart--where it's cheaper than at the grocery store--was closing in on $4 per pound. 

That's four times what it was twenty-two years ago.

Another example: six years ago, a pound of lentils at Wal-Mart cost about $.48.  Two years ago, the price jumped to $.98.  Two months ago, the price had crept up a little more, to $1.08.

Yet the government tells us that there isn't any inflation.  Because of the way it's figured.

Any idiot doing the grocery shopping for a household for a few years can tell you that we actually have double-digit percentages in inflation.


Two reasons: the Federal Reserve printing money like a counterfeiter driving down the value of a dollar, and the increases in the minimum wage at times when there've been major decreases in the value of minimum wage workers.

And the Federal Reserve, encouraged by the stock market going up, up, up--which, incidentally, is at least as much caused by the dollar being worth less as it is "consumer confidence," if it's not more due to the devalued dollar--is promising that they're going to be keeping the interest rates set below zero percent for the foreseeable future.

We are so fucked.

And the only thing I can advise is to make any major purchases or home improvements/repairs now, before people realize what's going on, and raise the prices of labor and material accordingly.

Because, quite literally, there is jack shit else we can do.  

*That was the only time I ever used food stamps.  Never again.

As seen on a friend's Facebook page...

Upon reflection...this really isn't a funny picture.

Sunday, March 17, 2013

Needs and wants on a national level

I covered an individual's basic needs, recently, as opposed to what they might want.  I guess it's time to do that for a nation.

What does a nation need?  Security.  Sovereignty.  Solvency. 

Let's start with security.  The United States mostly has it.  We are separated by geography from the nastiest of our enemies.  About the only thing missing from our security concerns is secure, impenetrable borders.  On both the southern border with Mexico, and the northern border with Canada.  Before we do anything about legal immigration reform, we need to actually do something about the fucking border jumpers running drugs out of Mexico, and money and guns back in.  We need to do something about the border jumpers fleeing Canadian socialized medicine.

Oh, wait.  We already did.  Somebody needs to point out that medical tourism will be better if they go to places like Costa Rica, now.

Other than that, we need to hit the fucking Islamofascists hard enough that they won't dare to try to touch us again.  Turning Iran into a smoking crater that glows in the dark is a good start.

Then, we need to develop our own oil reserves to ensure that our national security is never compromised again. 

Next: sovereignty.  Start with booting the U.N.  Withdraw our membership (and the illusion of legitimacy) from them, and evict them from the nation.  Stop looking to European law for precedents for our own citizens--we are not Eurozone subjects and serfs. 

Last, but not least: solvency.  Stop funneling money to foreign dictators and charities that do nothing but enable a nation to remain in barbarism.  Stop funneling money to the leeches that do nothing but sit on their fucking asses and breed in the United States.  Stop funneling money to the corporate farms, and to big businesses that would be able to become solvent if they could use bankruptcy leverage to break the union stranglehold on their finances (*cough*GMC/Chevy*cough*). 

And cut this abortion of a law that's going to be driving us further into a pit of debt and driving the costs and prices of healthcare out of the reach of the average, responsible American. 

Stop fucking printing money.  That doesn't mean we have more, it means what we have is worth less. 

If we actually stop spending money that's not Constitutionally justified and permitted, we could pay our debts off, and start saving for the next disaster.

Our needs, as a nation, are simple.  Welfare/food stamps/Obamacare and Foreign Aid are not needs.  They are wants--luxuries to make the political elites feel better about the country they hate.  A political elite that would prefer to be European aristocracy.

Actually, that reminds me: we, as a nation, also need to fire every politician, then pass a law that ensures that anyone who seeks political power is forever denied it.

Otherwise, nothing will ever change.


I got my grading done!! 

A week from next Friday, my students will be turning in their first essay.  Yeah.  Uh-huh.  That will be the end of week 10, and all they've had for the class has been busy work.  Not anything really useful.  And the stupid twit that designed the class chose a less-useful type of argument to try to teach.

The first paper is a causal argument.  They're supposed to watch two movies--an original and a remake--then argue why the changes were made between the two versions. 

Honestly, it could be a fun assignment for a classroom. 

It's a shit assignment for an online class. 

The next assignment is worse: a group presentation with a powerpoint over a controversial topic that isn't to include things like abortion, gun control, or the death penalty.  And an individual essay over the same topic.

I can't wait until the end of the first week of May.

Goals, last week's and this week's.

Last week, I set few goals: survive to Spring Break (done, with sanity mostly intact); figure out what's going on with my class (not done, but the problem has resolved itself and I can grade stuff again, if I feel like doing the work first); and try to finish the revision of Pendragon (not done, but I should be able to get that done this week).

This week, I can set a few more goals, since I don't have grading to worry about for the next two weeks.  However, these are the goals for both of those weeks.

1. Finish Pendragon, and send to not-too-busy-to-breathe beta-reader.

2. Finish revising the short I wrote last week, and decide what to do with it (post or use--then again, I might do both, as a kind of teaser for the book). 

3. Write as much on the first draft of Lost Girls as I can get done.

4.  Put the revised textbook for Composition I together, and start working on the one for Composition II for the classroom (which I'll probably need for Spring '14).   

5. Pack breakable dishes. 

6. Unload the rest of the cabinets.

7.  Plot the next Modern Gods book. 

Honestly, it's going to be nice, not thinking about class and students for a week, and doing nothing more than answering questions for another week. 

Saturday, March 16, 2013

Long day.

We spent the day visiting my in-laws, and brought my imp home from his overnight visit. 

Tomorrow, I'll be working on getting the living room cleaned up a bit, the breakables packed in the kitchen, and the puppy washed so that she can run around and play inside while it's raining.

Oh, and grading.  I want to get that done.

Random ramlings

My imp is perfecting his singing.  In the bathtub.  Without anyone in there with him.  He's four, so I've started letting him have some bathtub time unsupervised.  I can easily hear him, and check on him often.  A couple of days ago, I heard him singing his ABCs.  And then I heard him making up his own little song about the new bathtub, and how much he loves it.  It's a quiet morning this morning--he's at Grandma and Grandpa's house.  We'll bring him home this afternoon, when we come home after the visit. 

He has almost gone a full month without a wet pants accident.  Monday is the day he gets a new set of rails for his engines for that full month of dry pants.  I am waiting with crossed fingers that he makes it.

The pixie hasn't been eating well, lately.  She's been working on teething.  She's got a bottom molar coming in (I can feel the shape of the tooth) on one side, and a top molar on the other.  So, last night, I opened a can of pear halves.  I was kind of thinking that she'd eat a little, run off, then come back for a little more. 

Nope.  She ate the whole can of pears in one sitting.  Took about half an hour.  Then she wanted to go out and play.  Since it was nice enough, I put a hat on her (she gets "mean monkeys" in her ears--earaches--with little provocation), and we went out into the back yard. 

The kids have a swingset (not that they play on the swings), with a slide.  The slide is a much favored thing to play with for both kids.  I didn't think the pixie could get up to slide on her own, but I was wrong.  Despite the second step up sitting just below her hips when she stands on the bottom step, she managed to figure out how to get up the ladder without help.  It was really adorable watching her run around the slide, chanting, "Climb up, climb up, climb up...slide down!  Go 'round, climb up, climb up, climb up...slide down!"

The pup has spent all of the last two days outside.  Such a happy puppy.  She's started imitating Snoopy--jumping up on top of her house to watch the world go by, or to take a nap. 

The cats are absolutely bonkers.  Cricket, the black and white cat, stands about ten inches high at the shoulders, and about a half inch higher at the hips.  I'd say she's about fifteen inches from chest to rump.  Not a small cat.  But she thinks she is.  She keeps trying to do what she did when we first brought her home: curl up on my chest while I'm working on my computer.  I may have a large bust, but that cat is just too big to do that anymore. 

Shadow, the black cat, lives up to her name.  She'll disappear in the house for five or six hours, and you won't find her--she's found a dark, little, hidden spot to go to sleep so that she doesn't get bothered by child or milk-sister.  If she's sleeping on something black, you just don't see her until she opens her eyes.

This coming week is Spring Break.  Thank God.  Means that after I get last week's stuff graded, I've got two weeks until I have anything else. 

I need to email my department head, and mention that it might, maybe, be a good idea for those he's assigned to create the composition courses to, I don't know, maybe add an "Instructor's Resources" tab with worksheet answer keys.  Might be nice to be able to grade my students' work without having to do the worksheet myself, first. 

I've got that short story's first draft done...and now I'm not sure I won't use it as a flashback for the book I'm currently in the process of writing.  I'm thinking. 

Odysseus isn't sure that he likes the title of Lost Girls for the novel.  It's a working title, so if he comes up with something, I'm stealing it.  It's kind of a plot that's been done to death--a vampire chick saves another chick, then hires her as a daytime helper.  Then, they find out that the vampire that turned the vampire chick (a serial rapist/murderer) is now in their town. 

Both characters have been rejected by their families for their choices--Vampire Chick went to college against her white trash family's wishes, and succeeded; Helper Chick went into the bail bondsperson/private investigator business against the wishes of her wealthy, socially conscious family's wishes. 

That abandonment by their families is why I'd chosen the working title. 

Last, but not least, I am still working on The Last Pendragon.  The last couple of weeks has seen a major upswing in amount of busywork I had to grade--last week, in particular, had four worksheets and a discussion post.  Yes, I did eventually give up actually grading those worksheets, but that was only because it was taking so fucking long to get them done.  I'll see how much I can get done while my grading is reduced for Spring Break and the week after.  Wish me luck.

Friday, March 15, 2013

Criminal Masterminds, cont'd...

10.  Never, ever beat a woman in public in a concealed carry state.  You could wind up confronted by a veteran, ordered to stop, and/or get your stupid ass shot.

Needs and wants

There is a difference.  My kids are doing better, but it's going to be a work in progress.  Still, they currently have a better understanding than most people twenty years their senior.

What do we actually need?  Food, yes.  Shelter.  Water.  Safety.  Sex?  I'd certainly define it as a need.  Comfort.

Let's start with food.  What does a person actually need, food wise?  Protein, calories, and the vitamins and minerals found in fruits and vegetables.  Does it have to taste good?  Not necessarily--but someone's going to be more likely to eat what they need if it tastes good.  A sedentary adult needs about 1,500 calories per day; an active adult needs 2,000 or more.

Chicken is a good, cheap source of protein.  Leg quarters are $.59/pound at Wal-Mart, here in SW Missouri.  Supplement that with generic canned veggies and fruit, and you can feed yourself for about $5/day.  If you have a place to store the leg quarters until you need them, and a place and way to cook them.  But what if you don't?

A good, cheap source of protein and calories (as well as a few vegetables) is a McDonalds burger, if you don't have that.

Shelter.  Everybody needs a way and place to get out of the elements.  And they need more than just a bridge, or a sheltered doorway.

But what a lot of people don't seem to get is that they don't need a McMansion.  All a young, single person right out of college needs is a studio apartment, or a two-bedroom with a roommate.  You're not going to land in the same standard of living provided by your parents (assuming a person starts out from a middle-class childhood) without a lot of work, and a lot of work experience, in a career.  You can't get there as a Starbucks barista or a McDonald's drive-through server.

Water, or better, liquid.  There's a reason why England built a nation on tea and beer--you can get sicker quicker from water-borne illnesses than pretty much anything else (typhoid, anyone?  Cholera? Dysentery?).  You need safe water to drink.

Tap water is safe.  And, in the U.S., relatively cheap.  You don't need to spend a $1 per 20oz bottle of water to have water that's safe to drink.  And it's healthier than beer or soda.  Cheaper, too.

(Don't ask me about coffee.  We all have our weaknesses, and good whole-bean coffee is one of mine.)

Safety is a big one for me.  It resides behind my right hip, in the small of my back.  In either 9mm Makarov, or .38 caliber.  You're not safe unless you're capable of protecting yourself--either by being a large, fit male, or having an equalizer.  Anything else, and the individual in question has bought into a comforting lie.

Yes, I need sex.  It is a necessity.  I am married, though, and still responsible with it--since we can't afford another child right at the moment (diapers!  Oy, vey!  If it wasn't for Sam's Club, we couldn't afford the one we've still got in diapers!), we use a contraceptive.  We thought about it, and the pill is cheaper for us than condoms--especially with the added expense of needing to visit the doctor every month or two for me to get a prescription for antibiotics for recurring UTIs.  It costs us about $12/month.  Well worth it for a sense of happiness and well-being that comes with a close, loving relationship with my husband.

Unmarried sex is a bad idea.  Period.  Bad for women, because of the biochemical bonding that takes place causing emotional issues, and eventually, after enough no-strings casual sex and one-night-stands, an inability to bond with her husband.  Bad for a man, because of the possibility of false rape charges if the girl decides it was a bad idea the next morning, because of the possibility of a sudden, unexpected, unintended child support payment popping up--because the courts don't check to make sure the woman's correct on who fathered that child--and because of gaining a reputation that might hamper him in future attempts to find Miss Right instead of Ms. Right Now.  In general, it's just a flat-out bad idea.

Best for single people to stick to self-gratification.  Better for them in the long run, and cheaper--for them and for those of us who pay taxes.

Comfort.  Yes, we need it.  It's as simple as a hug from a friend, or a favorite food, or an Oreo.  My husband's comfort item is good quality dark chocolate.  Mine is coffee, good coffee.  And yes, decaf is okay.

Those are needs.  Wants are a whole different matter--and I think most of us in my group of blog buddies are aware of where a new iPhone falls.  Or where eating out, or premium cable packages, or granite counter tops fall.

Unfortunately, I can't say the same for the rest of the nation. 

Oh, for fuck's sake!

Dear King Putt,

You are not fucking royalty.  You have a fucking excellent insurance policy against being assassinated, because there is not one single fucking person in this nation of majority mouth-breathing morons that wants Joe fucking Biden as the fucking President. 


Love and kisses,

Heroditus Huxley

FFOT: Cancer.

My father-in-law just lost a sister to it.  Cancer can FTFO. 

Thursday, March 14, 2013

Criminal Masterminds, cont'd.

8. Never, ever break into a home in Texas.  Period.  If there is someone home, they will shoot your stupid ass.

9.  In fact, it's probably best not to break into any homes between the Smokies and the Rockies (with the exception of Illinois).  Most of these states are Castle Doctrine states, and if someone is home, they will shoot your stupid ass.

It's okay if we do it.

I mean, you've got Ponzi schemes, sexual assaults and child molestation, robbery at gunpoint, illegal trapping and poisoning of pets and endangered species...all crimes if done by a non-government-employed civilian.

However, if it's Social Security, a TSA pat-down, tax collection by agents of the IRS, or pest removal by Wildlife Services, it's all good.

The next amendment to the U.S. Constitution needs to be that no government employee is exempt from any laws.  This is complete and utter bullshit.

Tired of it.

Not a single one of the busy work worksheets in my class has an answer key.  I'm done doing more than giving students credit for completing it.  I have enough to do without having to do the student homework before I can grade it.

I hope the stupid bint that designed the course chokes on it. 

Wednesday, March 13, 2013

Criminal masterminds, cont'd.

7.  Never, ever try to rob a place that's been robbed repeatedly within a three month period, and especially not in a Castle Doctrine state that has extended the "castle" to mean a business as well.  The business owner will be pissed off, waiting, and will shoot your stupid ass, probably more than once.

I think the time to put Crazy Uncle Joe in the senior citizens home has come...

...and gone. 

First, he gave us the advice to just fire into the air to scare intruders (illegal).  Then, he tells us to shoot through the door (Please, God, let Mrs. Biden do just that while he's unlocking the door.  Also illegal).

Now?  Apparently, it's not domestic violence unless it's more than a "garden variety slap across the face."


Don't ever ask a composition teacher if you really need to write a conclusion paragraph to a formal essay.  Especially not with the current ammo shortage meaning they can't shred a copy of your paper when you turn it in (and inevitably fail it because, well, you're too stupid to be in college). 

Why, oh why has that student not dropped? 

Oh, bugger off.

I am so fucking sick of the feminists that I could spit.  They're nasty, horrible people who cannot seem to understand that there are places women are not suited to go.  Combat is one place.  Clergy is another. 

Why?  Simple.  Women are on average weaker, physically and mentally, than men are.  Women cannot carry as heavy of a pack as a man, nor march as far as he can with it on.  And it's a fucking awful idea to try to force a woman's teammates to pick up the slack that she leaves through inability. 

Women think with their hearts.  And tug at those heartstrings hard enough and long enough, and suddenly, a really shitty idea is an awesome one.  Yes, compassion should be involved in many decisions, but so should rationality--something that most women lack any hint of. 

The choice of a pope is one that needs, desperately needs, rationality to be applied. 

That means, despite the snits and temper tantrums, women need not apply.

Unintended consequences.

Did ya know that Obamacare is going to make not only your care more expensive, but your pet's vet visit, too?  Yeah, that whole sin tax on medical equipment applies to some of the equipment that vets use, too.  And they can't just eat the costs any more than doctors and hospitals can.  The extra costs to the providers will be passed on to the consumer.  Us. 

Isn't that just freakin' awesome?

Tuesday, March 12, 2013

It's begun...

I'm working on clearing the cabinets out in the kitchen.  This will be a good time to get rid of stuff I don't need.  I actually got a lot done today. 

The sixteen quart stock pot is not in that list of things.  I may not need it often, but when I need it, I need it.  Do any of y'all have any idea how much chili that makes?

Criminal masterminds, cont'd.

6.  Never, ever threaten little old men.  They will either decide they have nothing to lose, or refuse to fart around with their safety by getting in a fight with a young stud, and they will shoot your stupid ass.

Prince Charles had better hire a food taster.

If Her Majesty, Queen Elizabeth II thinks she's going to die, she's going to make sure that Charles precedes her.  He'll make a truly awful king, and complete the job of destroying the tradition of monarchy that her grandson will be able to preserve.

Well, DUH!

If the choice is between a constitutional monarchy that's been stable for hundreds of years and a train wreck of a nation that has a new government come to power every few years as the former government collapses, of course the Falkland Islands are going to vote to remain British

Each and every one of the Falkland Islanders needs to arm themselves with military grade rifles.  There's no way Argentina will permit this to stand without an invasion.  There's too much oil in them thar British territories.

Monday, March 11, 2013

Thirty-four... doesn't feel any different from thirty-three.

Criminal masterminds list cont...

5.  Never, ever break into a church whose pastor is 6'1", and 250 lbs.  Especially not while you're drunk or high.  He'll tackle your stupid ass to the ground, dial 911, and pray--loudly--over you while waiting for the police to arrive, and you'll wish he'd just shot your stupid ass. 


According to Paul Krugman, the fact that Social Security is currently a Ponzi scheme is a Conservative "non-fact."

Wow.  It's demonstrably a fact.  A Truth.  The so-called Trust Fund that Social Security is put into isn't funded by a real market.  It's funded by nothing but T-Bonds.  Monopoly money, the way the Federal Reserve has been printing those puppies out, lately. 

I guess this is what we should expect from the party of "faked, but accurate." 

They don't know what reality is, even when it buries its teeth in their ass.

Criminal Masterminds list

Ever seen the 100 Things I'd Do If I Ever Became an Evil Overlord?  I'm going to start one for the criminal element out there, because they need help!!!  Lots and lots of mental help and remedial education.

1. Never, ever try to crawl through a doggie door with a big knife to attack your neighbors.  They will shoot your stupid ass while you're stuck.

2. Never, ever shoot a potential victim somewhere that's not instantly debilitating.  That kind of tends to piss them off, and they will shoot your stupid ass. 

3.  Never, ever aim a gun at a sleeping woman from a doorway.  She will scream loud enough to wake the dead, scare the shit out of you, take potshots at you, and you will be glad to see the police when they show up to arrest your stupid ass. 

4.  Never, ever try to rob a bank with a plastic toy gun.  Someone will retrieve a real gun and shoot your stupid ass.

I think that's it for now.  I'll do more of these as more occur. 

And you know they will occur.  The nation did, after all, re-elect King Putt.  That would not have been possible without mouth breathers.


According to this story, New York City's schools "graduate" students without being prepared for college.  The shocker isn't that--pretty much every school is guilty of that.  No, the shocker is that NYC schools are graduating students 80% of whom need intensive remediation in reading/writing and/or math to be able to function at a community college level. 

Something is fundamentally broken when you have figures like that, and a mayor whose newest "for the Greater Good" campaign is against someone destroying their own hearing through playing their music too loud over earbuds. 

And, given that not all students go to college...what's that say about the rest of New York City's public school "graduates?"  I strongly doubt it's any better.

Sunday, March 10, 2013

to all you gun nuts out there...

Okay, I know you're supposed to switch out between black dress shoes and white ones at Easter if you're female (I don't, but I do switch out my CC piece)'s a quick question:

Should I wait for Easter to switch out my CC gun, or should I go ahead and do it now, since we've just had DST take effect?

Goals for the week

I'm going to try to be a bit more modest, this week.  It's going to be a slightly busy one.

1. Survive to Spring Break (one more week).

2. Try to figure out what the fuck is going on with my class.

3. Try to get that revision of The Last Pendragon finished.

That's it.  I'm not sure if I'll make any but the first, but I can try.

Excuse me???

I honor John McCain for her service to our nation, for the injuries he sustained, and for the trouble he still has with old injuries that never healed right.

That said  the man is one of the biggest weasel-cock-suckers I have ever had the priveledge to watch spewing copious amounts of bullshit.  I do not know where the fuck he gets off claiming to serve his constituents when he's schmoozing with King Putt instead of helping Senator Paul with his filibuster. 

And now, hearing that he's going in with Lindsey Graham to castigate Senator Paul for doing his duty?  At this point, I'm kind of glad he didn't win the presidency, even if it did saddle the rest of us with King Putt.


The straps on the pixie's new dress are too long!  I'm going to have to tack two inches of strap down inside the back of the dress.

At least it gives her room to shoot up without growing out of the dress. 

I'll tack those straps down, then post pictures of the dress spread out on the coffee table, then on the pixie. 

Other than the straps, I'm very happy with the way it turned out.  Especially considering that I didn't have a pattern so much as a picture in my head of what I wanted it to look like. 

Circumstance, happenstance...

Okay.  My colleague's class platform account works fine. 

Mine doesn't.  Again.  I still can't get the assignments to download, and some of my students aren't able to use the drop box to turn their work in. 

I begin to wonder if someone in Distance Learning has decided I don't need to be doing my job. 

I am getting more than a little pissed off about this.

Saturday, March 9, 2013


I didn't get nearly so much accomplished this week.  Not entirely my fault, though--I've been fighting with the class platform all freakin' week.  So, no: I didn't get the cabinets unloaded.  I didn't stay on track with grading (though I did get midterm grades turned in--YAY!!!  It's halfway done!).  I didn't get my textbook revised.  I didn't get Pendragon all the way done, like I was hoping I could.  I didn't get more written in Lost Girls--I got attacked by a rabid, back-story plot bunny, there, and wrote five pages of first draft in about forty minutes. Look for that on the other blog around the end of the week.

So, yeah.  I kinda got fuck-all done.  I fucking hate the distance learning platform.  And campus email.  They're still only working sporadically.

On a different topic, it's raining, here.  Pouring, actually.  It's still pretty warm, but the pup was soaked in the time it took her to dash down the steps and squat next to the front walk to pee. 

And so was I. 

And if I wasn't stiff and painful enough in my hands, trying to hang onto a leash with about 15 pounds of Scotty determined to go the fuck back inside, instead of finding a place to dump a deuce, made my right hand bad off enough that I couldn't close it around the lid of the bourbon bottle. 

So, I used my left hand to get my dose of Granny Clampett's Rheumatism Medicine.  Cheers.

frustration is...

...a little boy who keeps forgetting to take his clothes off before scrambling into the tub.

Random ramblings

Last night, the imp did something he's never done before.  Since he and the pixie had been fighting non-stop since both woke up from their naps, so I was doing separate baths, pixie first.  The imp came wandering into the bathroom to wait his turn, singing.  He doesn't sing--when asked if he wants to sing along with something, he says, "No.  I don't.  I too little."  So, last night, when he wandered in repeating the first line of "Baa Baa Black Sheep," I was a little excited. 

I was less excited when he requested, then sang along with "Little Bunny Foo Foo," complete with hand motions, instead of snuggling down to sleep (though it was funny). 

The pixie has decided on a battle cry: "Neverrr!!!!"  Imagine cartoon heroine shouting that at a villain, and you have a vague idea of her pronunciation.  Now, keep in mind that she's two, and you might have a vague idea of how cute it is. 

I think I've mentioned before here that I knit.  I've made a few of my own sweaters when I couldn't find any in colors or styles that I liked.  My current project is a little dress for the pixie.  I've held it up against her to check sizing and length, and she loves it.  Keeps begging me "Put it on?  P'ease?"  I should have it finished sometime this morning.  I'll post pictures probably later today.

Have I ever mentioned that Cricket (the black and white cat) drools?  I mean drools.  When she's in my lap, and I'm petting her, he chin isn't just damp--she drips.  Big drips of kitty drool.  She's left single-drip puddles on the corner of my laptop the size of a dime.  If she gets one of the kids loving on her and they accidentally blow in her ear and get her to shake her head, it gets nasty.  But the cat's so darn sweet, and such an excellent mouser (both are--we've gone from a major infestation to the only sign we have any being remains in the litter box), that it just doesn't matter other than the kind of gross and funny factor.  Because that cat doesn't drool when Odysseus pets her.  Just for me and the kids. 

I feel so special.

Shadow has found an interesting sleeping spot: in a basket under the kids' coats.  As in, the coats are already in the basket, and the cat burrows her way beneath them to sleep.  She lives up to her name--I can go most of a day without being able to find her.  I suppose that's what we deserve for adopting a sort-of black cat (she's a very dark reddish brown with darker stripes in strong light).

The pup has started pulling a Snoopy.  When we put her out in her pen with her dog house, she spends a lot of time she's not running laps sitting or lying on top of her dog house, either sleeping or watching (and smelling) the world go by. 

I've been having issues with the campus email and with the class platform.  Sometimes my email doesn't let me sign in, others, it doesn't let me reply to emails, and I can't get it to download any student work emailed to me.  I've given up and told my students to use my personal email.

The class platform just isn't letting me download the student work from the gradebook.  Which means I can't grade their work.

I wonder, sometimes, how the hell they expect us to do our jobs with function like this. 

Current book is...stalled.  I've been working on revising Pendragon, and I've got a side-story idea for Lost Girls that's not letting me work on the book.  I'll get that out this week, and post it to the other blog as soon as I'm happy with a draft.  I'll let y'all know when it's posted.

Friday, March 8, 2013

Oh, Bitch, please.

Were this claim anything other than the tortured fantasies running through your foul, fevered, feeble brain, you'd already be nothing more than a trophy on someone's wall.  Same with your co-twats of Pelosi, Fonda, and Mrs. Brady. 


I suppose even a blind squirrel can find a nut, sometimes.  Not, mind you, that I blame the gun in this case, either, but it just goes to show that it is possible for a gun to shoot someone without needing a finger on the trigger. 

Basically, creep breaks in and steals stuff.  Stashes stuff behind a barn.  Goes and steals a pickup to haul it all away in.  And somehow, manages to get shot by the guns he stole, with nobody pulling the trigger.  Turns out, the way he'd set them up caused one of the guns to use the other to kill the thief.

How many times must a shotgun use an assault rifle to kill someone, before we ban the shotguns?  After all, the AR-15 wouldn't have shot him of it's own volition--the shotgun is the one that pulled the trigger.


It's kind of all going to be below the fold, this morning.  This has been stewing for a few days.  Apparently, one stupid woman thinks that, to prevent more rapes, we need to teach men not to rape, not permit women to carry effective means of protection.

Thursday, March 7, 2013

It's academic

I spent two years tolerating being amongst those whose ideals were the complete opposite of mine to get my MA, and be able to have a job where I was in the office eleven hours per week, so that I could stay home with the kids most of the time. 

I got into a lot of arguments.  It got to the point where, when I looked up from whatever I was reading on one class, the professor got a deer-in-the-headlights look for fear that I was going to jump into the discussion.  Sad, huh?  The semester after I'd had that class, one of the other students was complaining to that teacher in her office (right next to the copy/mailbox room) about a student who tore all their arguments apart with direct quotes from the text under discussion, and wasn't a feminist!!!  The instructor asked what the student looked like, and upon receiving my description, said, "Oh, that's just HH.  You'll get used to her."

I've noticed in the years I've been in college, on either side of the desk, that people get wedded to theories, then twist whatever they're looking at to fit that theory.  For instance, one of the kids entering the grad program a year after me was planning his Master's Thesis on how Heathcliff from Wuthering Heights was a closeted homosexual.  I happened to have been re-reading the book at the time (one of my all-time favorites), and countered with textual evidence that he was closer to necrophelia than homosexuality.  The response was, "No fair--I haven't read the book yet."

I've seen much the same with radical feminism.  Single girls in college bloviating about how marriage and motherhood is slavery, and how women have to be freed from that slavery. 

They've never been married.  They've never had kids--most have never even babysat.  They're mostly spoiled little girls who don't have the first clue what they're talking about.  They haven't read the book yet. 

Funny thing is this: mothers with MA or MS or even PhD or MD degrees are dropping out of the workforce.  They've decided, en masse, that maybe marriage and motherhood isn't slavery, if it's what you want to be doing.  They've realized that the contents of the book are very different from the cover, and they kind of like it. 

I do love my job.  I also love my kids.  Yes, I'll be going back to campus this fall--but only in the mornings, and only on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, when Odysseus can be home with the kids.  If things change, and he goes back to work full-time (or starts a small business where he can't watch the kids in the mornings), I will quit my job.  Because yes, it's hard work, and financially uncompensated, but raising my children and caring for my home and husband is my first priority.

Wednesday, March 6, 2013

Sometimes, my students make me want to cry.

I got an email today, asking if four pages was okay for the upcoming essay.  The assignment sheet calls for three to five pages.

Tuesday, March 5, 2013

Long day.

Nothing screws up a day worse than having to put the pixie's elbow back.  Unless it's that, then the imp slipping on the bathroom floor because he's throwing a fit about having to get out of the tub, and smacking his face on the toilet seat and ending up on his back on the floor where he slipped.  Or maybe all that, the grading part of the online platform malfunctioning (again), and my hands hurting from the shift in weather. 

Good night, y'all.  I'm going to have a nice, double bourbon, then head for bed.  I'm beat. 

Need a harness and leash.

No, not for the puppy.  For the pixie.  She dislocated her elbow again, by pulling against Daddy holding her hand.  I hate it when she does that.  I hate putting it back even worse.

We'll try the imp's monkey backpack (it fastens over the chest like a harness, and it's tail is a leash).  If it works, we'll find something for the pixie. 

Here's hoping she doesn't do what a friend's four year old did, and start acting like a puppy in public...not that that will change anything, just embarrass Odysseus a bit.

Who's the lazy mama?

I read a comment on another blog about breastfeeding.  The woman who made the comment said that she was lazy, she bottle fed her baby.  Her husband was capable of feeding the baby with a bottle.

Yeah, have to sterilize bottles, boil and cool water for the formula, and warm it to exactly the right temperature.  You have to deal with how little ones don't digest the formula as comfortably or well, and develop awful colic and sometimes constipation from an overload of iron in the formula. 

Breastfeeding is what lazy moms do: it's always pre-mixed, the right temperature, right on tap, with no sterilization needed.  My son developed a severe intolerance to the formula (human breast milk enhancer, they called it) they added to the milk I pumped for him while he was in the hospital--I think it made his acid reflux a lot worse than it otherwise would have been, and slowed his weight gain until they took him off of it. 

Best of all, you can do it anywhere, with little to no prior notice from the baby.  If you're modest, just drape a blanket over the baby's head.  (I have never been modest, and it's funny to watch other people's reactions.)

Breastfeeding also only takes one hand.  One hand and arm to hold the baby, and I had the other to read, surf the 'net, or grade papers and stuff.  Bottle feeding takes both hands, because until the babies are several months old, they aren't coordinated enough to hold their own bottle.

So, yeah.  Lazy moms breastfeed.  Moms who don't think things through choose to bottle feed.