I want a professional, not a social worker.

Our imp isn't talking. It's not just "he doesn't talk much" but more like "at all." Oh, he says a few things, but he's not nearly where he should be for how old he is.

So, we did what any responsible parents would, and took him to a speech therapist to get an assessment. The therapist was a part of the still-standing outstanding hospital system in Joplin, and was very good. She noticed a few things about him, and says he definitely needs speech therapy.

Then, she made the mistake that makes me doubt her abilities and professionalism: she recommended the state-funded programs. The ones that send a therapist to your home to help with your under-three.

Thank you, no. I will not have a social worker in my home. I'd really rather not have one attempting speech therapy with my son, or any type of therapy. If my son is doing speech therapy, he's doing it with a real speech therapist that has a degree in it, and has done that and only that for his/her career. I will not permit someone with a degree in social work with a few credit hours in language acquisition to provide "therapy" to my son that may or may not help him learn to talk.

I'm more than capable of doing the research and learning enough to do that much. We neither need nor want government involvement in our family.

It's taken me this long to figure out how to even start.

Last Sunday, we had a guest minister at our church. Our church was not in the path of the tornado that hit us May 22; however, several churches were. A couple have shifted their congregations into older buildings that belong to the same denomination, but we offered to share ours with a couple of other churches.

Well, we have our services at 8:00 and 10:30. We're usually done, and most of us are even out of the fellowship hall well before 1:00, when the church that took us up on our offer has their service.

Last Sunday, our service went way short. We were out before 11:30, despite having our usual mid-service meet and greet, and communion. I was a little surprised--our usual rector, though prompt, usually gets us all taken care of and out of the service at around noon.

Then I heard a couple of ladies from our congregation--part of our vestry, I think--talking about why: the minister that was coming in at 1:00 made a point to come in and demand that we be out before his congregation came in.

Excuse me? Dude: not your church building. You are our guests. Be gracious. Don't bully our clergy, or our guest clergy.

I hope that, when you get your church rebuilt, it catches fire. I have no doubt that you're going to be spanked for your behavior--God's a better parent than I, and I don't permit my kids to throw tantrums, nor will I permit them to bully others.

Argh. Papers. Students. Comp teachers other than me.

I have a bunch of people to hunt down and beat with the papers of their students. One of them is at least one, if not two, of my colleagues in the college where I work.

I have a class that started at 25, and has shrunk to 15 or so. Out of that class, I have 15 different levels of competence in writing. Most of the class is white females, but I have one male, about 19 years old, still turning in work at midterm. I have one Vietnamese girl, one from India, and one black girl from the inner cities.

My writer who was born in India speaks three languages: the local language from where she was born, Hindi (the state language), and English (learned in '03, when she and her family immigrated to the US). She's got some odd sentence structure and word-level idiosyncrasies, but she's still a far better writer than most of the class, almost all of whom are native speakers and writers in English.

One of the worst writers, but with the most potential, is the black girl. She went from doing next to nothing right on her first paper's first draft (it was double-spaced, at least) to earning an A on that paper's revisions. And it was her work--the turn of phrase was the same, and so was the thought processes her writing showed. It was just totally reorganized and expanded from one paragraph in a rambling mess into a movie review. All it took was basically outlining what she'd said in her paragraph for her. She did the work to rewrite the paper from disorganized, unfocused, underdeveloped mess to not just readable, but good.

Her second paper was eminently readable and well developed and organized, with just a bit needed to be done to fix some small problems with focus on her topic. It was single-spaced, but still quite good--a complete contrast to her first draft of her first paper. Again, still her work.

She told me that no one had ever explained to her, point by point, what went into a successful paper before. I'm guessing she never had a teacher who was a competent writer--it seems to be rarer all the time--and may not have had a teacher who was competent in anything.

She's obviously smart. There's no other way she could go from six pages of nothing to four pages of well developed, focused, and organized essay.

What I don't understand is that she passed Comp I with this kind of deficit. I understand that her public school not just dis-served but mis-served her in ways that aren't forgivable. It's the public schools in the inner city--I expect nothing different (though I wish to heaven it was). I want to know who taught her Freshman Composition I. I want to beat the thunder out of them with the two drafts of her paper and scream at them for not teaching this child how to write a paper. All I should be doing at this point is teaching her how to write a persuasive piece, and polishing the gem that she is.

This child isn't a nigger. The people who either didn't teach her, or who taught her wrong, are--no matter what their pigmentation. I suspect they're also racists, and held her to a lower standard than what they held their other students to.

Another reason my husband and I both carry.

Today, I had lunch with a friend--just me, her, and my pixie. Odysseus took the imp off for some guy time and fast food fries (huge treat for the boy, since he doesn't get them often).

Lunch for me was terrific. Lunch for the guys went well, too, according to Odysseus.

And then they went to leave. And someone brushed against his gun trying to squeeze past him. Of course, Odysseus moved first to secure said firearm, then to identify who'd brushed against him to assess threat level.

The moron in question was a deputy sheriff that was wider than he was tall, gabbing to a partner with no situational awareness, and who Odysseus saw texting away on his cell phone as he left the parking lot.

Yeah, to serve (cake) and protect (his own privileges). I don't trust him, or those like him, to do their damn jobs and stand between the sheep who they're supposed to support and protect and the wolves that would do them harm. And that's assuming that, beyond being unwilling to move their fat ass for anything but a donut, they wouldn't be the wolves themselves.

Then again, I have issues with the legal system anyway.

Linked story courtesy of my beloved.

Once you vote Democrat, you can't get credit.

I recently read that our national credit rating is about to go down if we don't get a plan together to get our spending under control. Under the current administration, our spending has increased more than the spending by every administration in the entire history of the nation put together. Obama increased our national debt more than all the presidents from the first to the first one I remember in the first year and a half his stupid ass has been in the oval office (despite spending more time golfing or campaigning than working—thank God for that).

It made me think of this:

Sometimes you gotta laugh, or you're gonna cry.

It's really bad when the left's partisans are telling them they've gone too far.

The New York Times opinion pages--not generally known for Constitutionally-based opinion--is saying that the rape of the fourth amendment by the leftist regime that the ingnorati elected three years ago is (drum roll, please) more dangerous than any other rights violation.

via Random Acts of Patriotism

Cannot say it better.

"Laws aren't just for the little people. If the government cannot be constrained by laws, then the government is invalid. Period. If I violate laws, I run the risk of fines and jail time. Just because you work in a government building doesn't shield you from that."—Robb Allen

He was talking about gun rights, state gun laws, and local gun ordinances that violate people's rights by being stricter than state or federal law; however, it applies across the board.

Now, we just have to get Congress and the TOTUS POTUS reminded of that.

Disgusting.

I heard, from a family member, one of the most horrifyingly callous abuses of the charitible natures of Joplin residents unharmed by the tornado that tore through here a bit less than three weeks ago. She and her husband were moving back to this area from one a few hours away, and had brought their kids to stay with their aunt and uncle (his brother and sister-in-law--nastier, trashier people besides my male genetic donor I have yet to meet). Last weekend, they went to pick their kids up to take them home, and their oldest daughter had this to say:

"Aunt **** didn't feel like cooking, so we went to get some free food."

Free food. As in the Red Cross food centers, and the restaurants setting up to feed victims and volunteers in their parking lots, and the people cooking in their homes for those either victimized or helping out in the aftermath of the storm. Just because she didn't feel like cooking.

Yes, that was my reaction. I am so glad I am of no relation to that person. That is not an individual I'd be allowing anywhere near my kids (and think she had no business having two of her own). That sense of entitlement is one that I've personally seen in government housing, in families where the parents aren't married because they can collect more money if they're each collecting a disability/welfare check, and both working for cash under the table. I would not want my kids growing up thinking that that sort of behavior is remotely acceptable, much less something to be imitated.

I wouldn't be in the least surprised to hear that this winner was caught looting. Except she'd never bother stirring her lard ass off of her couch.

Why I'm surprised I still attend church at all.

Listen. Look up the official video, if you like--I can't watch it.

My dad was a minister. That minister.



I seriously have no clue how in the world I kept my faith in God. God knows it made me lose my faith in several institutions set up to supposedly keep children safe and prosecute criminals.

What brought that up was thinking about the difference between the church I've chosen to attend, and churches like the one I was raised in. I wouldn't have been surprised to hear about something like this in the church I was raised in.

No way will I raise my children anywhere near beliefs like that.

If that means I'm going to hell...well...best to do that for doing the right thing than go to what someone else sees as heaven for something they think is right but that I know is wrong.

According to my mom, I'm going to hell.

I was born into an evangelical Protestant denomination--the church formerly known as the Reorganized Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints (the RLDS--not Mormons, though, they're heathens). That church baptized kids when they hit eight years old (or twelve--it's been a long time since I was willing to step foot in that church, since my male genetic donor was one of its ministers).

Mom now thinks that that's wrong, wrong, wrong--after all, Christ was an adult when he set the example.

Christ was an adult. He was thirty. John the Baptist was only a few months older than he was, and literally could not have started his ministry soon enough to baptize Christ any younger.

However, my mom willfully closes her eyes and mind to this little fact. And swears that, since I'm a member of the Episcopal church, and since the imp was baptized at two months old (and the pixie will be next Sunday at a hair over six months old), I'm going to hell because I'm doing it wrong.

Thanks, Mom. If that's the case, then she's going to hell for willfully standing in my sister's way where mental and emotional healing is concerned, because she's doing the parenting thing wrong.

In case you can't tell, I'm a little unhappy with my mother at the moment.

Buzz, buzz, buzz.

I recently went in to my department on campus to turn in a copy of my gradebook. While I was there, I checked my department mailbox. I found a copy (nice copy—plastic spiral-bound with cardstock covers) of a report from a conference attended by our (now former) head of department. Apparently, the powers that be want completely uniform classes for uniform, measurable results, and we're all expected to jump on the bandwagon with them by redesigning our courses.

Good luck with that. Trying to get all of the professors—especially in the humanities—to agree on curriculum for the big, core class sections (i.e., freshman/sophomore level survey classes, and composition classes) is like herding cats: impossible.

It's been attempted before, but my department's inhabitants in particular jealously guard their right to choose their own textbooks and readers, particularly for the composition classes. And I suspect that, if consensus were forced, the one with the fewest teaching skills, grading skills, and desire to teach that particular class (but who is able to talk about nothing until the rest of us wind up nodding and agreeing just to shut him the hell up) will be the one who gets to set curriculum and textbook.

I won't lower my standards to that. I wrote my own textbook, have created my own assignments, and make my students do more graded writing than anyone else in the department. I don't edit their papers for them (like one colleague), don't hold with grade inflation (like most of my colleagues), and (unlike a colleague also in the adjunct office) actually grade their work whether they mark it "confidential" or not.

I will admit that one thing in that eighty-page handout made sense: many of my colleagues in the humanities take the basic, entry-level, freshman survey courses, and teach their own pet ideas without regards for what the course is supposed to convey. And I will admit that composition is vulnerable to that—one of my new colleagues (hired since I had the imp) suggested that, since composition classes don't have "content," it's up to us to make the class meaningful, so he makes the students study and write about the Harry Potter series.

Umm…that kind of turns a composition class—one where learning how to structure the paper IS the content—into a literature class. When the focus leaves the skills set—paper organization (and thesis statements), development at the paragraph level, sentence structure, and grammar and editing—because of a perceived lack of course content (which is supposed to be the teaching of course skills), of course we wind up with course drift.

The problem isn't the courses. The problem isn't the curriculum objectives. The problem isn't the administration's perceptions. The problem is the professors who don't want to teach what they were hired to teach. And the problem with the whole concept of course redesign is the reliance on education theorists, theory buzzwords that mean absolutely nothing, and administrative nincompoops who see the problem, but have no clue how to fix it*.

In any case, I think it's an effort doomed to failure by the sheer size of the task, the lack of clear objectives set by administration, and the obstinate foot-dragging I foresee from the ones that actually teach the classes.

*Those who can, do. Those who can't, teach. Those who can't teach come up with theories to justify their existence in teaching the teachers. And those who can't do that go into administration.

I bow to no one.

Unless you’ve been living under a rock, or have been totally out of touch with the news cycle, pretty much everyone in the world knows that Joplin, Missouri, was hit—hard—by a tornado on May 22. One of the worst things this tornado did was hang out for nearly a minute right in front of one of our two spectacular hospitals, then plow in a straight line from that hospital to our Home Depot. Six miles of not jumping, of having other little tornadoes spinning within it, of winds in excess of 200 mph, of moving at half the speed a storm of its size normally travels. It left a swath of destruction six miles long by three quarters of a mile wide.

One manager of a local Pizza Hut gave his life to save as many of his workers and customers as he could, putting his own body on the line to hold the doors of a walk-in freezer closed with a bungee cord.

Before the storm had even settled, people were showing up at the hospital with pickups, hoping to help save lives by moving victims from a place where, not only was the building's structure horribly compromised, but leaking natural gas.

For the past week and a half, Joplin has been inundated by volunteers, well-wishers, and donations of goods and money. Joplin has symbolized the generosity of a nation.

I have been humbled by the generosity and love offered by our fellow citizens.

I have also been outright disgusted and revolted by the selfishness and pettiness of some individuals, and classes of people.

For instance, a local privately owned group of radio stations has been doing 24/7 storm coverage, from 4:00 p.m. on May 22 until yesterday, when they started to transition back to normal programming. Some of the DJs have lost their homes, all their possessions (but thankfully not their families), almost everything--to the point that a listener showing up with a fresh package of socks nearly brought one to tears. They've provided a vital service: putting people on live that wanted to know that their loved ones had survived, airing announcements made by emergency workers, charitable organizations, and politicians alike, announcing where to find this or that service or organization, or where to find shelter or supplies. Sometimes, they'd get someone call in, to announce that they'd found a pet wandering near where a house had been destroyed, and giving out their phone number to reunite the pet with the owner.

Yet last week--last Wednesday--someone called in complaining that there wasn't any music on the music stations.

Obama's visit demonstrated a tone-deaf arrogance I've never personally seen so blatantly displayed in my life. While it crystallized some realizations about the nature of pride in oneself and government assistance for Odysseus (which I've understood most of my life, and danced around here, here, here, here, and here--his comment over at Tam's blog at 12:46 a.m. sums it up nicely), it clarified for me exactly how our elected officials see us: as subjects who are expected to cater to their convenience.

BHO was in Ireland when the storm hit. Bill Clinton would have cut the trip really short, and been back the next day to be visible in feeling our pain (and our boobies, if he could get away with it). Obama didn't. He didn't come on Tuesday. Nor on Wednesday, or Thursday.

No, he chose to come on Sunday. He decided to time his arrival and travel to either campus or to the zone of destruction to coincide with church letting out.

The media tried to spin it as Obama stepping into the role of "the nation's pastor" in "deeply religious" Joplin--but his behavior kind of demonstrated otherwise (watch from about :36 on very closely--thanks for pointing that video out, Vilmar.).

A leader that understood he was but first among equals--only in charge because somebody has to be, and we all agreed that that somebody would be him--would have timed that differently. He would have come a bit more quietly, a bit more quickly, and been a bit more considerate about blocking every major intersection in a city that's already taken a blow to the heart.

Obama did the opposite.

I'd be willing to bet the asshole in chief likely visited residential districts that were destroyed--and blocked people from salvaging what they could from their destroyed homes in so doing.

That demonstrated a way of thinking that only works if you start with the assumption that he sees himself as the first emperor of the nation, and that we are his subjects--nothing more than cardboard cutouts placed to give him something to rule, something to make him look good.

And then, this legend in his own mind swore to finish the work the tornado started, by funneling aid into Joplin, whether we want/need federal aid, or not.

I am not a subject. I will not bow my head to any save my Creator. I will not wait at any intersection behind a police barricade on my way home from church like a good little peon.

I will vote this son of a bitch out of office in November, 2012. I will beg the nation to do the same.

We cannot afford to lose our self-respect. That's how citizens become subjects become slaves.

Well, we’re alive.

Odysseus, the imp, the pixie, and I are all safe. Yes, we live in the general area hit by the ginormous tornado, but luckily aren't anywhere close to ground zero. As you've probably heard on the news, there's a six mile swath through the middle of Joplin that's been destroyed, including one of our two spectacular hospitals.

We're incredibly lucky. Unlike some of our friends, we still have a house, a car, and electricity. We didn't take any damage, and we have enough extra to be able to help somewhat. The only thing we lack is internet, phone, and television. Other than that, we're good.

Amazing talent

An electric string quartet that rocks harder than many metal bands...and it's not Apocalyptica. If you want to see true awesomeness, check out their cover of "Kashmir" in the sidebar--it's embed feature has been disabled.

Skip to about 1:13 or so for the music. They're frankly amazing.

Hallelujah!

Spring semester is finally over—I have three weeks or so until Summer 11 classes start (yes, I'm teaching a summer class again). Grading is done, and all I have to do is input the grades into our university database (yes, I've had to do that myself for the past three years—the registrar's office doesn't do that anymore. Maybe they could help us cut costs by firing a few of their freed-up individuals…).

I do have one gripe, though. My summer class has been full since the first week of April. And I've gotten about five e-mails in the last two weeks from students within the last two weeks, telling me that they really need that class, and would I please let them in?

Umm…no. At last check, I had a seat or two still open in my fall session. And I really can't let my summer session get overloaded: we have eight weeks, and still will be doing four papers as well as two blogs per week. I literally cannot keep up with the grading if I accept more than 25 students for that class, especially since I'll be squeezing that grading into naptimes and bedtimes.

The last e-mail, though, really irked me. Said individual marked it urgent. Sorry, sweetie—poor planning on your part does not constitute an emergency on mine. You may think you're a special snowflake that deserves special treatment, but I don't happen to agree.

Of course, I can't word it like that without getting into trouble.

F#ck you, AT&T

Didja know that AT&T as putting a bandwidth usage cap on their users? Yup, if you download more than 500MB/day (150 GB/month), you pay $10 more per 50 GB used. It would have been nice to be notified, don't you think? First we heard of it was reading about it on a few different news services after the cap went into effect.

Um...I work online, so does my husband, and we don't have any television services, so we watch TV online. We bypass the 2 GB/day mark that some satellite services set on their country customers.

Needless to say, we are no longer customers of AT&T. We've dumped their internet, their phone, and we don't use our cell phones, so we're dumping those, too. We're switching to Cable One for everything.

Update: Odysseus checked my math--we'd actually have 5 GB/day allowance. We'd still wind up going over on most days.

You might be a gun nut if...

...you change your guns at Easter and Labor Day, but your shoes are always black.

Another symptom

I recently read about people organizing to be on the streets in NYC to try to help prevent a serial killer from targeting his victims of choice—prostitutes—rather than waiting on the police to solve the crime.

I am of two minds on this issue:

I think it demonstrates one of the finer traits of our culture in this nation that strangers are willing and eager to organize to protect those who are most in danger. It shows just how much the death of one affects us all, whether or not we are a preferred target of a madman. (I'm also glad to see that people are thinking of their own safety, as well as that of others, in a more proactive way than just waiting on someone else to save them.)

On the other hand, it demonstrates a dangerous lack of trust in our society's justice system.

I may not trust the judicial system, but I like to think I have reason not to—not only did my home county not prosecute my abuser, they refused to even investigate him because he was a pillar of the community that would never do that to any child, much less his own. Personally, I like cops as individuals—but hate the institution because there is no justice in it much of the time.

If naïve, idealistic, young people, most of whom haven't had a traumatic experience with the justice system ignoring the evil happening to them, don't trust the cops and judges to do what they're supposed to do to find bad guys and put them away…we're on the verge of something horrible.

We have got to put our foot down. And if our judges don't want to take responsibility and if they want to keep letting these people loose, then you know what, you're going to have more vigilante going on. You're going to have a lot of problems in this community and in this world if they keep letting these guys out. It's not getting better.—Judy Cornett

Think about the repercussions of how the average citizen would read "put[ting] our foot down." Do you think you could simply watch, be present and obvious about watching, call the cops and be a witness? Do you think it will matter? Or do you think that, since the madman is likely to get paroled and released in fifteen years (or less, depending on overcrowding), you'd be more likely to do something about it yourself?

Once the majority lose trust in the institution—whatever that institution may be—it collapses. If that happens to be our legal system…

You can blame my husband for this...

I sometimes get weird songs stuck in my head. Sometimes all it takes to get them unstuck is to listen to them. So, here's the one stuck this morning:

I’m not the POTUS.

I can afford to take the time to sleep on big decisions. Had I been in the hot seat, the instant I'd heard that bin Laden had been found, I'd have given the go order. I wouldn't have taken sixteen hours to sleep on the info.

Don't get me wrong: I'm glad the fucker's dead, and I'm glad it was a kill order. I'll give the nitwit in the White House that much. That said, I don't think it was justice, any more than ASM826 did. Justice would have been reprisal killings of 30,000 Muslim civilians in Afghanistan—3,000 every day for ten days.

I also don't think it's going to change anything. Radical camel fellators still hate us (some hate us worse, now), still want to harm us, and are still planning to harm us. Some of them think that we're lying about bin Laden's death. They're not going to believe officially released photos (those can be faked, you know)—it would be more likely to create belief if we had a body to show. Unfortunately, he's already been buried at sea (hopefully in a bacon shroud) to avoid the construction of shrines to the martyr on his gravesite. Don't get me wrong, I think the sea burial is probably the best idea, but it should have been postponed for at least a year.

We should all take a deep breath of relief that there's one less sick, psychopathic bastard planning to kill innocents in the world. What we shouldn't be doing is celebrating in the streets, or visiting Ground Zero in a sick sort of victory lap. That's what radical fundamentalist camel fellators do every time a major attack on American civilians is carried out successfully.

So many levels of stupid on all parties’ parts.

First, let's talk about the incident: a mother stands off a swat team in Detroit sent to seize her little girl because she refused to let her be medicated.

Yeah, I'm betting you're having my reaction: why the hell would you raise a kid in Detroit? Why the hell would you even think about letting your kid go to Detroit public schools when you've been homeschooling? Why the hell hadn't you gotten her immunized earlier?

Say what, now?

Little girl born with a birth defect that required the amputation of one of her feet tells Mom she wants to go to public school. I can't fault her mother for homeschooling the child, nor can I fault her for her protectiveness. However, she never bothered to get her child her immunizations. And the little girl apparently had some nasty bad reactions to it. When the family sought treatment, the little girl was put on an ADHD med—which she didn't need. The Department of Child Illfare has admitted she didn't need it. Mom refused to dose her daughter with it, and the courts stepped in to take the little girl away and forcibly medicate her. Mom didn't do as she was told and turn the kid over.* So, the cops are sent to seize the kid like she's the ill-gotten gains of a drug deal.** Mom not only refuses to hand her little girl over, she pulls a gun to defend herself, her home, and her family from those who sought to harm them (i.e., the government and Child Illfare). SWAT got called.

Mom is now a criminal, and little girl is now in foster care, despite Department of Child Illfare promises that she'd go to relatives.

Of course the government is stupid and abusive—that's a given, sadly enough. However, Mom did a lot of stupid things, several of which I addressed earlier: first and foremost, living in Detroit; not having her child immunized as an infant; even considering the girl's request to go to public school (which ranks up there pretty high); and seeking medical help while on government assistance in a big government nanny state.

Note that I never said pulling a gun in defense of your child was one of them.

Honestly, I think this family has grounds to not only get Mom's charges overturned, but grounds to sue the city of Detroit, the Department of Child Illfare, the doctors involved, the county health clinic that called Child Illfare, and everyone involved in scarring this little girl's psyche by ripping her from a semi-responsible, loving, non-abusive family.

*I wouldn't, either. I've lived through that mistake, and I won't make it with my kids.

**Given that it's Detroit, and there's no father in the picture, the kid involved might well have been the ill-gotten gains of a drug deal.

Just another illustration of why I’m unwilling to go anywhere unarmed.

I'm a very small woman. I've been a victim of a large man; I am a survivor. I refuse to be a victim again. You never know who's going to have the courage and moral fortitude of this woman's lawyer.

There is exactly one tool (okay, one type of tool) that makes me a physical equal to any man out there. It goes BOOM! and throws little bits of metal of different calibers, from smaller than the end joint of my (very small) pinky finger to larger than the end joint of my thumb, at very high speeds.

A gun free zone is a target rich environment. I don't ever plan to be a target.

It’s about bloody time someone said it!

LZ Granderson writes an op-ed suggesting that it's parents' fault that kids are being sexualized earlier and earlier. He focuses on how people damn fashion and designer labels for putting out push-up bras for 12 year olds, but should really be damning the people who buy the push-up bras for their 12 year olds, who really don't have anything to push up. For example, he describes seeing a pretty young thing dressed to kill, with a midriff-baring top, low riding sweats with "Juicy" on the seat…and who was only about eight years old.

Yeah, that 8-year-old girl was something to see all right. ... I hope her parents are proud. Their daughter was the sexiest girl in the terminal, and she's not even in middle school yet.

The man has the right idea.

It's easy to blast companies for introducing the sexy wear, but our ire really should be directed at the parents who think low rise jeans for a second grader is cute. They are the ones who are spending the money to fuel this budding trend. They are the ones who are suppose to decide what's appropriate for their young children to wear, not executives looking to brew up controversy or turn a profit.

I get it, Rihanna's really popular. But that's a pretty weak reason for someone to dress their little girl like her.

I don't care how popular Lil' Wayne is, my son knows I would break both of his legs long before I would allow him to walk out of the house with his pants falling off his butt. Such a stance doesn't always makes me popular -- and the house does get tense from time to time -- but I'm his father, not his friend.

That's sadly becoming a unique way to raise children.

I not only don't disagree with him, I think he doesn't go far enough in castigating the parents who prefer to be their children's best friends. Those parents are raising a generation of whiny, insecure, bullying, lazy…I could go on all night, describing the children those parents are releasing into the world with the adults.

I parent more like Ganderson, and like I assume he's doing, I'm working on raising future adults. I don't care if my kids like me or not. I don't even care if they tell me they hate me. I know better, and I will know better when the time comes to tell them that no, my daughter can't go to school looking like she works at a brothel, and my son had better not look like he's just about to go to one (or worse—has just left one).

Parents love their kids. That goes without saying. Even the selfish, stupid, immature parents love their kids.

Good parents love their kids enough to set boundaries, and trust that Twain was onto something.

From the only funny dream I had last night.

"I always thought it was 'grin and BARE it,' not B-E-A-R, 'bear it.'"

"Yeah, Mom and Dad never told you because they thought it was funny when you did."

Aren’t you just the cutest little smug bug? Yes, you are!

I don't know if this guy is serious or trying to be funny. If he's trying to be funny, he's failing. Badly. What he's succeeding at is being offensively sexist to a person who doesn't typically notice sexism. His comments on female membership in the NRA (specifically, why women aren't a visible chunk of the NRA's membership) are sexist, misogynistic, and explains why he's probably still asking his mom to explain to him why he's still single while she cleans his apartment in her basement.

I am a gun owner. I am a gun enthusiast. I am a woman. I am a wife. I am a mother. Oddly enough, I'm also a college English professor.

Here are some money quotes from sexist dude:

But it seems that many preconceived notions must be overcome before the National Rifle Association attracts more women to its annual convention. Right now, it's about as popular among women as fly fishing competitions, cigar tasting events and public executions.

Hello, sexist dude—just because something may not be popular with most women doesn't mean that all women don't like that something. Next thing I know, you'll be commenting on how all women would rather have a day at the spa than at the range! Oh, wait: you did.

Its offerings at the David L. Lawrence Convention Center will include a ladies-only seminar teaching them how to become pistol instructors.

To most women, such a seminar probably wouldn't have the same appeal as, say, a holistic facial at the day spa. But providing people with relaxed, radiant faces isn't part of the NRA's mission.

And:

• Spending several hundred dollars on a serviceable handgun might leave them without enough money to get the full treatment at that next visit to the day spa.
  

Personally, spending a day at the range does leave me with a relaxed and radiant (if dirty) face. I have never been to a spa, and I am not trusting enough to allow a stranger to put their hands all over me while I'm vulnerable, so I likely will never go to a spa, either. Not my thing. I'd rather spend that money on ammo and go meditate to the sound of a .45 punching many holes very close together in the middle of an eight inch circle.

And if a woman is spending a day at the spa to find a man, she's looking at the wrong place. She'd be more likely to find one that wouldn't spend more time in the morning getting ready than she does if she looked at the range.

• Carrying a gun in a small purse would leave less room for more important items, such as lipstick or compact.
  

I have room in my purse for a change of clothes for each of the kids, diapers, wipes, snacks, wallet, checkbooks, etc. I do have a dedicated pocket for my gun, when I have to carry it in my purse, but I'd far prefer to carry concealed on my actual person. Purses can be snatched (though an army surplus multi-purpose digicam courier bag repurposed into a diaper bag is less likely to be). If I were to carry a small purse, I'd have to also carry a diaper bag, and futzing with both bags would make me more vulnerable to having the smaller one (the purse) yanked out of my hands. If my gun is in my purse, my attacker would have it. If it's on my person, it's a) not taking up room in my purse, and b) available to keep said attacker from taking my lipstick compact spare magazine and wallet.

• The baggy clothing required to successfully conceal most holsters would make them appear frumpy.
  

Actually, the best concealment I've found is a pair of well-fitting blue jeans, a tank top, and a blazer, with the holster tucked down the waistband. The way I carry, I don't look frumpy—I look classy—and no one is ever going to know I'm carrying unless, like me, they can add line of clothes + way individual is walking + keeping their dominant hand free + not letting suspicious characters get behind them and come up with "there's a gun there." Not without patting me down looking for it. (And if someone is patting me down looking for a gun, they'd better be arresting me.)

• Gunpowder residue might stain the new Karen Scott blouse they just bought at Macy's.
  

Gunpowder residue doesn't stain. Duh. If he had ever fired a gun, and/or done his own laundry, he'd know that.

• The gunpowder smell when the weapon is fired could totally overwhelm the Chanel they're wearing.
  

If a woman is wearing Chanel, they're trying to impress other women. Or metrosexuals who probably use even more expensive fragrance, so wouldn't be impressed by Chanel, anyway. No, gunpowder and Hoppe's No. 9 is a far more potent man bait than the most expensive perfume.

• Most firearm accessories come only in one boring color: black.
  

What is he, stupid? Black goes with everything. No, give me a plain black gun over shiny stainless with pearl grips any day. And don't even get me started about the accessorizing that can be done by changing 1911 grips.

• Target practice earplugs simply aren't sexy.
  

Neither is being a rape victim. (Personally, my other half finds me taking the time to learn to protect myself quite sexy.)

I could go into just why this guy must be so stupid because he's a man, but I like men in general, and don't want to insult them by implying that he is one.

Time to hook up the icemaker.

It'll make a nihilist hippie cry for Mother Gaia.

Saw this a couple days ago, didn’t have time to comment.

I love my kids, and I love my job, but I seriously wish I had more time to write. I would have beaten Vilmar to the punch.

This is a vicious violation of our fourth and fifth amendment rights. There's no way I'd a) own a smartphone to begin with, or b) hand it over to be searched without a warrant and probable cause, whether I'd been doing something wrong or not. No, I wouldn't cooperate any more than I'd cooperate if the government decided to place a GPS tracker in my car without a court order.

(And yes, I regularly look under the car for things like this. I may be paranoid, but I absolutely do not trust the government or law enforcement not to violate my rights. If I find one, it's getting tucked down in the seat of a taxi in one of the two major cities in Missouri.)

This explains so much.

Apparently, there was a study of…manhood enhancement techniques in France (where, apparently, normal, or average penis size is three inches. When fully erect.). You know, compared to the rest of the world, that's pretty darn pitiful. And you know they know it.

Honestly, given that information, I am totally unsurprised that they're studying penis length enhancing techniques. And that their birthrate is shrinking the population of ethnic French so badly that they're importing new taxpayers.

What class

I cannot believe that a judge had to slap down one panel of lawyers for objecting to a continuance requested by the other side because of one of the other side's lawyers' wife was due to give birth.

When the judge, in overruling the objection raised by one side, congratulates the other, it bodes very ill for the side that objected.

So, how has tax day treated you?

Did you get dinner and maybe a kiss first, or did they just roll you over and do you dry?

Song heard at a barbeque place...

BWAHAHAHAHA!

Dumbfounded

I finished grading last week's blogs last night. One of them was so far above what one of my students' usual writing skill has been to that point that I e-mailed said student, telling them that I couldn't prove it, but was certain that the post wasn't their work. I told them that they wouldn't be receiving credit, but that I wouldn't fail them for the whole class.

I just got an e-mail response from that student. They told me that it was their work, that it was a paper that they'd written in the past for a different class. They told me (not in these terms, but with the same meaning) that they were capable of doing much better work than they'd done for my class, and that they'd been blowing my class off.

Then they said that they planned to pick it up with my class to finish out the semester with a better grade than they've currently got.

Good luck. I'm not inclined to grade this person's work as easily as I have been, and I am not an easy grader. They've aced one paper out of three so far, and are barely average. I am not giving a grade above an average unless the paper is absolutely perfect—no grammar errors, no standout problems in focus, organization, development, or tone/style. This person is going to have to write professional level work from here on out to get an above average, much less an excellent from me.

I do not remember giving any class less than my best, when I was a student. It didn't matter if I hated the professor (four times that I can think of), or if I hated the material (much more often), or if I simply didn't understand it despite trying my hardest, I never gave less than my best effort. I do not comprehend the mindset that says "I don't want to do this, it's not related to my major, so I'm just not gonna bother."

I don't understand that mindset. I really don't understand why that student admitted that they didn't give a rat's ass about my class to me in an e-mail. I mean, I teach composition. I know they don't care about/like my class. Most of them try anyway.

I hate giving a student a failing grade. I hate it. I have never wanted to give a student a failing grade for actually failing to do the work, much less a failing grade for attitude.

I want to fail this child so hard they bounce all the way out of my university. Their attitude is, in my opinion, almost as bad as plagiarism, because of the image they set up of themselves as a failure when they could easily have been writing papers and blog posts more readable than most modern novelists' work.

Testing a feature

Microsoft Word has added something to the '07 version that I'm testing out: when you click on "New Document," it gives you a choice between a standard document and a blog post.

I'm testing out the "blog post" feature to see how it works.

Edit: It seems to have worked pretty well.

I thought the Nomenklaturea was a Soviet thing...

...apparently not. I guess it's more a Socialist/Marxist thing--the People's Democratic Republic of Kalifornia proves that.

Stupid marketing decisions.

There's a local realtor--Next Generation Realty--that really needs to re-think their ad signs and For Sale signs. Every time I drive past one, I mis-read it: NGR Realty really looks bad at even residential area speeds.

Shit.

Back in August of last year, we bought a used car, cash on the barrel. We paid $1500 for a 1986 Mercedes 190E (a 4 door, unlike our '03 Civic). We've driven that car nearly constantly since we bought it. I adored that car.

Note the past tense.

Yesterday, we were visiting my in-laws, and left the boy with them while we went into town to their Sam's Club. The boy has recently started drinking chocolate milk--"boo juice"--but only one brand of shelf-stable stuff that has a cow on the individual serving-size cartons. Our club doesn't carry that brand, and doesn't carry a few other things we like, while their club does.

Everything went fine until we were nearly back to their house. Then something went thump, and we lost power to the wheels. The engine mostly sounded fine (except for a few more thumps), but really pushing down the accelerator pedal didn't get us up to more than about 25 mph.

Needless to say, that last ten miles back to the in-laws took a while.

My car may not be worth it to fix. It would be a minimum of $600 for a shop to fix, if it is what my other half thinks it is (cracked head gasket). Unless that is what it is, and we can find a shade-tree mechanic that can fix it for under $500, it really isn't worth it to fix the car. That is, after all, about a third of what we paid for it.

Meanwhile, we're stuck with two car seats--one front-facing, and one rear-facing carrier--in a two-door car. We're not going to be able to go anywhere that isn't absolutely necessary for a good while.

I only wish this were an April Fool's joke.

Despite what the government swearing that there is no inflation, and using that lie to justify no COLAs for seniors, Wal-Mart's CEO says that the superstore can't hold the line on prices for consumers much longer.

In other words, were it not for Wal-Mart, the federal government's big lie would have been exposed sooner.

I'm now just waiting for the government to be exposed for the incompetents they are when it's revealed that, not only is there no money in Social Security for COLAs, but there's no money in Social Security, period, and they're stopping payments for good (even though they're not going to stop collecting the taxes that supposedly pay for it).

The moment that happens will mark the beginning of Rome burning.

An Open Letter

Take up the Marxist's burden--
Send off the ones you've trained--
Go bind your peers to protest,
To stand out as the brains
To cry out on the sidewalks
And compel by wise diktat
The best for all the people--
Their wishes disrespect.

Take up the Marxist's burden--
Impatient to abide,
The empty threats of congress
To reject laws you devise;
By teleprompters' prompting
Your brilliance shall be plain.
You wreck our nation's profits,
Through seeking your own gain.

Take up the Marxist's burden--
Make savage war on peace--
Kill innocents and seniors
By bidding health care cease;
And when your goal is nearest
The end that others sought,
Watch smart and wary citizens
Bring all your hopes to naught.

Take up the Marxist's burden--
Create a rule of kings--
Remember voting citizens
Shall always ruin things;
The courts you dare not enter
The line you cannot tread
Go make them with your rulings
And all your talking heads.

Take up the Marxist's burden--
And take his recompense:
The blame of those, your betters
(You know, the ones with sense);
The cry of those you harass
And force to do your will
"Why take from us our freedom--
Our choice and rights repeal?"

Take up the Marxist's burden--
You won't succeed to boot--
We're citizens, not subjects
That's something you've confused;
By all you say and whisper,
And all you ever do,
That silent witness, History,
Will judge your gods, and you.

Take up the Marxist's burden--
You've done your childish best--
Your worthless Nobel Peace Prize
The Worship from the press.
Your voters judge your manhood
And vacations, through the years,
As lacking--lacking wisdom--
Despite pronouncements of your peers.

*Revised because of men like Alan West and Herman Cain. Also, apologies to Rudyard Kipling for butchering his work.

simple biscuits

This is one thing I hate mixes for. And since the recipe is so easy, why bother with a mix? The only easier thing is biscuits from a can, and you can't top a cobbler with those.

2 c all purpose flour
1 T baking powder (NOT baking soda)
1 t salt
3/4 c milk
1/4 c vegetable oil

1. Preheat oven to 425.
2. Mix dry ingredients well with a fork.
3. Mix wet ingredients in until you have a very sticky dough.
4. Sprinkle a generous amount of flour onto a clear area of counter; turn biscuit dough out onto the floured surface.
5. Knead* the dough about 17 times. Roll out to about 1/2-3/4 inch thick, cut biscuits**.
6. Pour a small amount of oil into a plate to coat the top and bottom of each biscuit before placing on a cookie sheet for the oven.***
7. Bake for 12-15 minutes, or until golden brown.

If you want to use this to top a cobbler, add about a tablespoon of sugar, and don't cut the dough after you roll it out.

Helpful hints:

*Spray cooking spray on your hands, or liberally coat them with flour to prevent dough from sticking to you.

**If you don't have a biscuit cutter, use a wine glass, or a thin tea cup.

***Use a paper plate for ease of cleanup. Oiling the top of the biscuits lets them brown; oiling the bottom keeps them from sticking to the cookie sheet.

This is just a rhetorical question, but...

...just how stupid do they think we are, that we don't notice the calorie counts on the backs of soda cans, 20 oz or larger bottles, and snack packages? Do they really think we don't notice that a 12 oz can is a serving and a half, or that a 20 oz bottle is 2.5 servings, and are incapable of figuring the calorie counts from there?? Do they really think that moving the calorie count to the front of the packaging, and listing total calories for the entire bottle/can/package is going to change anyone's mind about consuming it?

I wonder what the first wookie would say if she were told that we notice, can do the math, know that none of it is good for us, and simply don't give a damn because we enjoy it? Maybe she'd be shocked--looking at the size of her ass, she may well be one of those incapable of doing either basic reasoning or basic math enough to figure out the calorie counts on the crap she eats and drinks. She may well just be projecting her own inadequacies onto the rest of us.

Personally, I think Smith is right (even though he's talking about smoking): "What it has to do with is the complete unsuitability, in their twisted minds, of simple human pleasure in the lives of everyone around them. This used to be the preoccupation of Puritanical religions. Today, most of the people of this bent have abandoned religion, but they haven't abandoned the demented ecstasy they experience by shouting "Thou shalt not!" at everyone in sight -- and being able to back it up with the brute force of governmental edict."

Funny, I don't feel marginalized.

According to a psychologist quoted in a CNN editorial, I should: "'As we're learning more about the tremendous dangers of smoking, fewer people are willing to tolerate exposure to second-hand smoke, which leads to smokers being pushed to the periphery,' said licensed psychologist Clifford Lazarus. 'But it is a right, people can smoke just like they can drink and have guns*, it's just that the government is being a bit more controlling in terms of creating parameters in which people can engage in this marginalized behavior.'"

I have one thing to say to Mr. Lazarus: I drink (occasionally--nothing's better to ease the tight muscles in my back after a day of working and child care than a finger or two of bourbon or scotch, or maybe an Irish coffee), and I own guns. Neither does any damage to my heath or to that of my children, or anyone else around me, because I am a responsible adult. Those who believe that no one can be responsible with alcohol, tobacco, firearms, or explosives are doing something that Mr. Lazarus, as a licensed psychologist has to be familiar with: projecting their own faults onto others. In fact, the quote makes clear that he's doing it, too. And so:

Up yours, you communist, totalitarian, hippie bastard.

Via View from the Porch

*emphasis mine

Perfect crock-pot roast

Plan on this one taking at least half the day, if not all day. Put it on the night before for Sunday dinner, or in the morning before leaving for work for supper.

2-4 lb roast (chuck or round)
1 envelope dry onion soup mix
4 large baking potatoes
1 lb baby carrots

1. Wash potatoes, slice into 1/2 inch thick disks. Arrange in one layer on bottom and up sides of crock pot.
2. Dump baby carrots into crock pot.
3. Add 1/2 c. or so of water to crock pot.
4. Rinse roast, place in crock pot. Sprinkle onion soup mix over roast.
5. Cook on high for two hours per pound, or low for four hours per pound.

Other than washing and chopping potatoes, there's little prep work for an amazing meal. And leftover roast sandwiches are fantastic, especially with provolone cheese.

You know you're a parent when...

...baby poop makes your day.

The definition of "scary little bastard"

A British Gurkha soldier single-handedly held off and chased off thirty Taliban terrorists, killing three.

He definitely deserves the medal.

Via Kickin' and Screamin'.

You might be a gun nut if...

...you overhear the word "magnum" in a pharmacy, and instantly think of a revolver cartridge instead of what the conversation is likely about.

I don't think Kipling meant "The White Man's Burden"

For decades, now, Kipling has been spit on by literature departments as a racist, Imperialist bigot, nearly completely on the strength of one poem: "The White Man's Burden."

I think the ones who've damned Kipling as a bigot are wearing blinders. Or else they're idiots. Possibly both. No one seems to take into account Kipling's hatred of the British aristocracy--poems like "The Widow at Windsor," and "The Widow's Party" are clear indications of Kipling's anger at the upper classes that ordered the subjugation of the land where he was actually born and lived in early childhood.

I'm pretty sure that that hatred was limited to the policy makers for a few reasons: first, he wrote poetry for the common British soldier, in their dialect, and quite sympathetic to their plight (see again, "The Widow's Party," "Tommy," and "The Young British Soldier"); second, he turned down the position of Poet Laureate and several offers of knighthood. His poem "Recessional" openly prays for mercy on the people of Britain for what they've done to their colonies' inhabitants.

And all this doesn't even address how long he spent in India during his lifetime. Nor that he returned to the land of his birth (born in Bombay in 1865) when he was 17 (1882), and lost much of his anglicanization: "After these, my English years fell away, nor ever, I think, came back in full strength." (Kipling's own words, those.)

No, Kipling was British only in that he was born to British parents. In all other ways that mattered, he was Indian, and there is very little chance that he was anything other than anti-imperialist.

It's interesting and ironic that the current lefties (who are looking at those citizens of their own nations with the paternalistic eyes of the British Imperialist aristocracy) hate Kipling for writing the poems that explain why their dreams of imposing on us for our own good will fail.

Bachelor Round Steak

This is a recipe that my other half brought with him, handed down from his dad. It's really good, with minimal clean up. And this recipe is really good for round steak, which is relatively inexpensive, but very tough unless baked slowly.

1 2lb round steak
1 envelope dry onion soup mix (could probably substitute dry garlic and herb, onion and mushroom, or some other dry soup mix, if you prefer)
aluminum foil

1. Preheat oven to 350.
2. Cut sheet of foil to wrap around meat. Lay raw steak in center of foil sheet.
3. Cover with soup mix. Fold foil up around steak, folding edges together to seal steak into an envelope of sorts.
4. Set package on a cookie sheet, and bake for two hours (an hour per pound)

Goes well with baked potatoes, mashed potatoes and gravy, or anything you'd want to go with it. You could probably put sliced up or cubed potatoes in with the meat, and have nearly a complete meal.

Afterwards, if you've been careful enough opening the foil envelope, you just wad up the foil and throw it away. No cleanup. If you really don't want to bother with cleanup, use paper plates and plastic flatware. Working what amounts to two part time jobs and taking care of kids (even with the help of my other half) makes the expense of paper plates and bowls, and plastic flatware well worth it in terms of one less thing to do around the house.

My brain hurts.

Our two year old is starting to use the potty. Our three month old is already ready for the jumper, but not really willing to take a bottle or use a pacifier (the only pacifier she's willing to use is me). I'm teaching two composition classes in which my students write 1000 words on their blogs with comments on two classmates' blogs every week (and I have to grade them every weekend), and assisting a colleague in teaching a literature class online.

I've also started the process of trying to write an academic paper about the future of academic citation heading toward linking sources rather than the current mess that no one department can agree on. I can think of three different citation styles--MLA (used by English Language & Literature classes), APA (Psychology), and Chicago (used by communications departments). Each has different rules, the internal citation model in APA and MLA tend to obstruct the flow of the text, and it's a pain to seek out the sources cited.

I think that students will, eventually, cite their sources with hyperlinks as a matter of course. I think that if those of us who teach courses in which research papers make up even a portion of the grade won't change the way we cite our sources (and teach students to cite their sources), our classes will continue to become more and more irrelevant to our students' lives. I think that the world as a whole is moving away from older research models, and toward hyperlinking sources.

We need to simplify things, and to agree on a method of simplification. I think that no one department is willing to agree on someone else's model. I think that our only real choice is a brand new model: to move toward hyperlinking in the text, and using some type of standardized works cited/bibliography page.

Any thoughts?

Update: The little girl will now take bottles. She still will not take a pacifier, but will take my knuckle instead of nursing constantly--thank God, as she's started teething.

For Mousie

Because one of my blog friends is sick, I'm posting one of my easy chicken soup recipes.

2 quarts of chicken broth*
1 package of dry tortellini or raviolini
1 can of chicken breast, drained
2 c frozen veggie mix
1-2 t. minced garlic** (about 2-4 cloves of garlic--the little pieces, not the whole bulb)
3 T dried minced onion***
generous pinch dried rosemary

1. Pour the chicken broth into a large pot (2.5-3 quart is a bit small--use a small stock pot if you've got one). Turn burner to high.

2. While you wait for the broth to start boiling, add chicken breast, garlic, onion, and rosemary.

3. Once the broth is boiling, add pasta and veggies. Turn the heat down a bit (to prevent boiling over), and cook until pasta and veggies are done to your taste.

Serve hot with toast or crackers. Heats up well the second day. Tastes much better than what you get out of a can.

* The Swanson in a box is good, but expensive. Stick to the store brand in a box, or use cans. I use canned chicken broth I buy in bulk from Sam's Club.
**I keep minced garlic in a jar in the fridge--the bulbs dry out faster than I use them, and dehydrated garlic just loses...something.
***Dehydrated minced onion keeps forever, and (unlike garlic) doesn't lose much in the way of flavor.

Irritation and alarm

My other half and I took our two kids and went to a conservative association meeting. We came away with a little book for the kids called Founders' Fables that teach lessons based on the Constitution. It's very cute, and very well done.

We also came away with a deep-seated frustration that the presentations offered were so basic. Seriously, people--what the hell is wrong with you? How in the hell can anyone be unaware that there is no special trust fund for social security? Who doesn't know that the current generation of workers is paying for the current generation of retirees? Who doesn't know that the population of workers is shrinking while the population of retirees is growing?

Worst of all, who simply whines "I want the money I was promised, no matter that it's at the expense of my kids and grandkids?"

So. There's the irritation. Here's the alarm.

Most of my readers are aware that I'm in Missouri. We've had "Fair Tax" legislation floated about for a couple of years, now. It sank in committee. Simply couldn't garner enough support.

Instead of abandoning it for a flat income tax (sensible--which is why politicians won't go for it), they've re-named it the Missouri Jobs Act.

Okay, first off: the whole "Something failed to gain support from the sheep--I mean voters, so let's sneak it past them by renaming it" alarms me. It's related to the whole pride issue I wrote about a bit more than two years ago now.

The reasons a sales tax didn't gain traction are too numerous to mention. Let's talk about the effects we can expect to see in Missouri if they succeed in passing this renamed "Fair Tax."

People within about thirty minutes' drive of a state line are going to do the majority of their shopping--especially on big ticket items--out of state. This directly results in...

1. Fewer sales made in state. Fewer sales mean smaller profits, as well as smaller amounts collected in state taxes.

2a. Smaller profits mean overheads must be lowered. Overhead includes employee wages. That means that people are going to be fired. Which, in turn, means not only is less money going to be spent in-state, but more unemployment is going to have to be paid out.

2b. Items sitting on shelves will have their prices dropped in an effort to sell them, leading to an even smaller profit margin, even with fewer employees. Small business are still going to go out of business.

3. Shoppers fleeing the state to shop will eventually lead politicians to increase the tax rates, and possibly re-apply an income tax on top of the "fair tax."

4. Both businesses and income earners will begin to flee the state.

The Fair Tax is not a good idea, not in this economy. Many of us knew that, and that's why it was defeated under the proper name. Re-naming it and foisting it on us again demonstrates a level of deceptiveness and chutzpah that just frightens me. Tells me that my home state is determined to self-destruct.

Chili

Before the weather gets too warm to enjoy it, I thought I'd post my version of this recipe. It's simple, thick, and can be as hot or not as you want. This recipe is about 3.5 or 4 alarm--if you want it milder, reduce the seasoning, or use mild ro-tel. Or both. If you want it hotter, use more seasoning (but not more than 1/3 c per pound) or hot ro-tel. Or both. I usually double this recipe, because if I don't, there's not enough leftovers to do more than top a baked potato.

1 lb lean hamburger meat (90/10 at least) Ground venison is also very good in this.
1/4 c chili seasoning
1 10 oz can ro-tel
1 15 oz can tomato sauce
1 15 oz can seasoned black beans, drained

1. Brown meat over medium heat, making sure to break up any large chunks.
2. Add seasoning, ro-tel (undrained), and tomato sauce. Mix well.
3. Simmer on medium low (I usually set the burner to about 4 [low=1; high=11]; adjust as needed for your stove) until desired consistency is reached (about an hour for my taste), but at least a half an hour.
4. Add black beans, stir, simmer until beans are warmed through (another five or ten minutes).

Serve hot, with cheese, crackers, tortilla chips, or baked potatoes. Tastes good the day you make it, and tastes better the next day.

*Helpful cleanup hint: as soon as you've put the leftovers away, run the tap until the water's hot, put dish soap in the bottom of the chili pot, then fill with hot water. Soak overnight and it comes clean with no effort.

New toy

We did our taxes, and did the responsible things with the refund first. You know, kids' college, our retirement...not that it'll do much good with the rapidly tanking dollar.

Anyway, after we did those things, we decided to have a little fun. I ordered this. Hopefully, it will arrive tomorrow. I can't wait to go play with it a little.

Welcome to the blog world, babe.

My husband has started his own blog. You can find it in my blog list: By Other Means.

breakfast cornbread

This is a family favorite. I strongly recommend using an 8" cast iron skillet to cook this in, or a cast iron drop biscuit pan. Spray the skillet/pan with cooking spray, and preheat it with the oven before you pour in the batter, and the cornbread flash cooks on the edges, and falls right out when you turn it upside down after it's done. No need to clean up the pan.

1/2 lb bulk maple flavored sausage
1 sweet yellow corn bread mix (I use Morrison's)

1. Preheat oven to 425 degrees or as directed on the cornbread mix. Don't forget to spray your cast iron skillet and put it in the oven when you turn the oven on.
2. Fry the sausage, breaking up chunks as you cook it (helpful tip: fry the whole pound, and freeze half for later).
3. Mix the cornbread batter according to the directions (helpful tip: measure the milk in a two to four cup liquid measuring cup with a pour spout, beat in egg, then stir the mix right into the measuring cup. That way, you only have two things to wash: the fork or spoon and the measuring cup).
4. Stir in 1/2 lb of cooked maple flavored sausage.
5. Pour into preheated cast iron skillet. Bake as directed on the mix.
6. Serve hot, buttered, with maple syrup.

No, this likely isn't good for you, but it's easy, tastes good, and heats up well the next day or two.

New category

I'm going to be posting a series of fast, easy, relatively healthy, and tasty recipes that my family and I commonly eat, all under the label "Mother's Little Helper." (I swear, there aren't any drugs involved, just a lack of sleep causing a bit of a feeling of disassociation from reality.)

First up: Beef enchilada casserole

1 lb extra lean ground beef (90/10 is adequate, 93/7 or higher is better--don't have to drain it)
1 packet taco or enchilada seasoning
1 8-10 oz can of re-fried beans
1 10 oz can of enchilada sauce
1 can condensed cream of mushroom soup (I use the 96% fat free)
1 can condensed fiesta nacho cheese or cheddar cheese soup
1 can corn, drained
1 can ro-tel (any variety)
2 or more cups cheese (cheddar works, as does Mexican blend)
4 cups of crushed tortilla chips

1. Preheat oven to 425 degrees.
2. Brown ground beef in large pot. Mix in seasoning according to directions, then re-fried beans. Mix thoroughly.
3. Remove from heat. Add enchilada sauce, soups, corn, and ro-tel. Mix well.
4. Layer chips, filling mixture, and cheese in a 9x13" baking dish (or a disposable steamer tray pan for less cleanup).
5. Bake, uncovered, for 25 minutes, or until cheese is melted and lightly browned. Serve hot.

Edit: my husband pointed out that I didn't specify that we do two layers of each ingredient, or that it's as easy to make two as it is to make one, or that they freeze well. If you want to freeze them, though, you need to more than double the cook time--we've found that it takes two hours to bring one from frozen solid to piping hot.

Big smiles!