As the past 9 months of Lyrica dosage have been a CHEMICAL LOBOTOMY and I have not written anything of any value, passion or consequence in all of that time, it's been driving me even CRAZIER than I am on a normal basis.
I'm almost finished with the cold-turkey detox from hell (wouldn't wish this shit on anybody but Darth Cheney!!!), and I can start to feel some oxygen getting back to whatever few brain cells I've got left, so I know that it's coming. The same way that I can feel changes in the air pressure that herald a hurricane, even when it's still a little uppity storm down in the Caribbean, I can feel this one coming, and it's gonna be the muthaload. Don't know what it'll be about, whether it'll be about the Barry kool-aid drinkers, or the many ways in which Hillary has ALWAYS disappointed, or how John Edwards broke my heart in a million different fucking ways, that slimey ambulance-chasing bastid.
Maybe it'll just be about how poor patients, Medicare & Medicaid & charity no-pay patients, are (and have been for over a century) treated as fucking GUINEA PIGS by the pharmaceutical industry and their best little bitches, the doctors who shill that shit for them. Most of y'all know my long and horrific history with Charity Hospital, city clinics in NOLA (which, far as I know, STILL haven't been reopened!), and the motherfuckers who are getting WAY fucking overpaid to work in the private/corporate medical industry. That's what's at the front of my brain right now, it just needs to decompress and not get the bends from all of this sudden influx of oxygen. I had a closed-head injury in 1986 that SHOULD have killed me, seeing as how it took out most of my left brain and the skills sets contained therein, and shaved a good 30 points of my IQ, so every fucking thing that endangers the 50 or 60 remaining FUNCTIONAL brain cells that I've got left. And years on and off of narcotic painkillers sure as HELL ain't helpin' on that ladder. When I'm cremated, I want y'all to smoke my ashes, 'cause there will be an ASSLOAD of opiate residue in there, still as strong and cemented to those synapses as ever. Just wish that I could've gotten a few more acid trips in first, though. I miss that shit and need a crainial douche like all hell. Haven't even SEEN any good shit since 1998, and can't even get the cheap college-kid blotter nowadays.
Not trying to write a suicide note or anything, we all know that I *always* fuck that shit up, and it is NOT worth the additional brain damage, nor the incipient incarceration. But after the fuck-over of all time by Lying Sociopath Mercinary BITCH Niece in February, my sarcoidosis came back for the first time in 10 years. No, it won't be merciful enough to kill me this time, either, I'm sure. The skin abnormalities, uprisings, feeling like I've been exfoliated by fiberglas insulation, the headaches, insomnia (added to the mental hell/insomnia/manic episodes due to the fucking LYRICA), the bloody lungs, the gut issues --- yup, allllll back with a fucking vengeance.
So sue me if I get a little narcissistic. That's the lovely thing about autoimmune syndromes --- they affect more women than men, so of COURSE it's one of those "histrionic wimmenfolks" issues, where the GPs pat you on the head and tell you that it's all in your head. And y'know the number-one inciter for sarcoidosis (and prolly Lupus, too)? STRESS. Thanks, oh greedy little psycho-whore "niece" who is now disowned and who had removed me from great-nephew Dameon's life indefinitely. Hope that you got your fucking rocks off on it. And yes, I'm going to try to find a rheumatologist this time, to see if they've gotten anything beyond fucking prednisone or chemo drugs. Soon as I can get the truck fixed-up enough to make it to Baton Rouge (I am fed the fuck UP with these hillbilly hacks, almost as much as I am with the carpetbagging yuppie-scum who've taken over the entire medical industry in Baton Rouge), I'm going to get a new GP and a rheumatologist to try and beat this shit before it reduced me to a bed-incarcerated lump of useless.
THIS is not the rant that's coming on, this is just the preamble.
But if anybody wants to contribute to the Save-The-Pickup Fund, so that I can actually GET to go find those doctors, I ain't gonna be mad atcha. I don't know how in the hell I'd have survived these past 5 hellacious years of pure torment without y'all, for damned sure. But love, affection, and undying support don't mean bupkis to a hoopty ol' pickup truck who needs WAY too much man-hours of labor to get TO the damned intake manifold gasket. Yes, I'm shaking the tin cup again. Don't generally get a lot of responses these days, except for my ever-faithful Redcane, and when Andy can, not to mention all of the great new women who have come into my life, from CCMcGoon to Mirele to others whose nics I don't know, so I don't want to sacrifice their privacy, when I hope that they already know how much I appreciate their love an generosity.
Okay, shutting up now. Eagerly awaiting CCMcGoon's next great installment from the TexDemCon!
Sunday, June 8, 2008
Saturday, June 7, 2008
Don't Think I Won't...
run right up to the stage as a speaker is stepping off and make him stop to pose for a picture. That is what I just did in the above picture. This is David Van Os and he is running for Party Chair, hoping to beat out incumbent Boyd Ritchie. I like Ritchie, but I fell in love with Van Os' loud-and-proud ways in 2006 and am now rooting for him. The voting for Chair is about to take place. It will involve simple math, so it should only take a few HOURS.
Clusterfuck '08 Update 3
They showed Clinton's speech live in the convention a few minutes earlier. Well, part of it anyway. They lost the feed several times and by the last time, they just gave up. Clinton and Obama supporters were chanting and yelling the whole way through it like she was here personally.
I mentioned yesterday that I, along with the other alternates, were told to turn around during the vote to fill the delegate spots so that we couldn't see who voted for/against us. I was a bit miffed because it was so goddamned juvenile, but I found out later that it was also against the party rules. There isn't supposed to be any secret voting at all. Even written ballots are supposed to be signed by the delegate. I mean, hell, we all got here by caucus voting, which wasn't even close to secret. Anyways, if I had known about that rule beforehand I would've said something, but as it was I just huffed and puffed a little.
That wasn't the only fuck up in SD31 though. They stayed until after midnight last night finishing their voting and now it was announced that they have to re-caucus this afternoon. Spacedark talks about that a little more here.
I was also told that they upgraded an alternate to a delegate spot that was already taken, causing all kinds of hell.
I would belong to the only senate district in the convention that can't get its shit together. I'm going to head out now and see if I can find the caucus. I have a feeling I'll want to witness this one.
I mentioned yesterday that I, along with the other alternates, were told to turn around during the vote to fill the delegate spots so that we couldn't see who voted for/against us. I was a bit miffed because it was so goddamned juvenile, but I found out later that it was also against the party rules. There isn't supposed to be any secret voting at all. Even written ballots are supposed to be signed by the delegate. I mean, hell, we all got here by caucus voting, which wasn't even close to secret. Anyways, if I had known about that rule beforehand I would've said something, but as it was I just huffed and puffed a little.
That wasn't the only fuck up in SD31 though. They stayed until after midnight last night finishing their voting and now it was announced that they have to re-caucus this afternoon. Spacedark talks about that a little more here.
I was also told that they upgraded an alternate to a delegate spot that was already taken, causing all kinds of hell.
I would belong to the only senate district in the convention that can't get its shit together. I'm going to head out now and see if I can find the caucus. I have a feeling I'll want to witness this one.
A Couple of Pics
I couldn't come to Austin without visiting the capitol building. I love that it's pink. Below that is a pic of the Cedar Door, where the Blogger's Caucus was held. It's a good thing I took that pic early, cause I was a bit too tipsy to pull it off by the end of the night.
Other Blogs Covering the Texas Convention
Here are a few of the other bloggers covering the convention. None of this would have been possible without Vince from Capitol Annex, who worked tirelessly to get us the press passes and also set up the Blogger's Caucus, which was once again a bad ass party.
I'm sitting next to Marc from Marc's Miscellany right now. He also liveblogged the last convention.
A couple of bloggers from Panhandle Truth Squad are also here.
More:
Easter Lemming Liberal News
jobsanger
McBlogger
Off the Kuff
Bay Area Houston
boadicea
There are too many I'm leaving out, and not on purpose, but it'll take forever to link to them all. A better round-up of bloggers can be found here. If you get a chance and want some different views on what is happening, give the above blogs a visit.
(If you're new here, this is our storage space. You can find the main page to Mark of the Beast here.)
I'm sitting next to Marc from Marc's Miscellany right now. He also liveblogged the last convention.
A couple of bloggers from Panhandle Truth Squad are also here.
More:
Easter Lemming Liberal News
jobsanger
McBlogger
Off the Kuff
Bay Area Houston
boadicea
There are too many I'm leaving out, and not on purpose, but it'll take forever to link to them all. A better round-up of bloggers can be found here. If you get a chance and want some different views on what is happening, give the above blogs a visit.
(If you're new here, this is our storage space. You can find the main page to Mark of the Beast here.)
Chelsea Clinton Visits the Texas Convention
Okay, so it's kinda dark, but it was the best I could do. Believe it or not, there were about 200 people between me and the stage. It was tough to even breathe in such a tightly packed crowd.
Chelsea didn't speak long, but every word she said was listened to like gospel in the convention center. She is definitely loved among Democrats. She also stayed on stage for a good 5-10 minutes after the speech to shake as many hands as possible.
Friday, June 6, 2008
Clusterfuck '08 Update 2
I was on my way to my senate district caucus when I found myself among several hundred Obama and Clinton supporters trying to out-chant each other. You ever been to a high school football game when the cheerleaders from the opposing teams face each other on the track and try to one-up each other with cheers? Yeah, think about that on a mass level and you'll have an idea of what I got stuck in.
I'll never get how people can be that excited about anyone. I lost my ability to have high hopes for any politicians loooooong ago.
When the senate district caucus started, it was time to fill in the absent delegate spots with alternates. There were 4 alternates and 2 spots to be filled, so they has us line up so the delegates could vote on us. In a move that absolutely fucking blew my mind, they made us turn around so we couldn't see how they voted. How fucking juvenile is that? Are they afraid that we're going to go postal on anyone who doesn't vote for us? Trust me, guys, we can handle it. We've been potty trained for years now.
Anyways, I didn't get one of the spots, but one of the ladies came up to me afterwards and told me that I just missed it. That's funny, as the other guy probably just missed as well, but I appreciated her for trying. Can't tell you what the numbers were though, 'cause they obviously didn't trust us with such sensitive information.
I'll never get how people can be that excited about anyone. I lost my ability to have high hopes for any politicians loooooong ago.
When the senate district caucus started, it was time to fill in the absent delegate spots with alternates. There were 4 alternates and 2 spots to be filled, so they has us line up so the delegates could vote on us. In a move that absolutely fucking blew my mind, they made us turn around so we couldn't see how they voted. How fucking juvenile is that? Are they afraid that we're going to go postal on anyone who doesn't vote for us? Trust me, guys, we can handle it. We've been potty trained for years now.
Anyways, I didn't get one of the spots, but one of the ladies came up to me afterwards and told me that I just missed it. That's funny, as the other guy probably just missed as well, but I appreciated her for trying. Can't tell you what the numbers were though, 'cause they obviously didn't trust us with such sensitive information.
Rick Noriega
Rick Noriega, running for U.S. Senate, answering questions during the press conference. Near the end of it, we were treated with "Test. Test, One, Two" and a practice session of "The Star Spangled Banner" from the speakers in the press room. It turns out that we get to hear everything said on the microphone in the auditorium loud and clear.
Clusterfuck '08 Update
I was strolling through the booths looking for anything worth buying when I heard a guy to my right ask me if I want a sticker. Why the hell not, I thought, offering my finger for him to stick it on. When I looked my little gift, I was met with "Pro-Life Democrats". I looked up at the asshole who would hand me such a thing and, smiling, he said "People have the impression that all Democrats are pro-choice, but we're going to change that. We pro-life Democrats do exist."
Well, motherfuck. I certainly could have lived without knowing that. There's nothing like coming to a convention in hopes of finally being surrounded by like-minded people only to find out that some are so proud of their hatred for woman that they'll use it as a conversation starter. I was not impressed.
I just made my way back to the press room to post this and was met by a blogger from central Texas who said that when he tried to go to to a caucus nearby and was told that there were no more seats available. If he wanted to stay, he'd have to stand. This was the Democrats with Disablilities caucus by the way.
Well, I'm heading back to the crowds now. I'll try to post again soon with more Texas Democratic happenings. See ya in a bit.
Well, motherfuck. I certainly could have lived without knowing that. There's nothing like coming to a convention in hopes of finally being surrounded by like-minded people only to find out that some are so proud of their hatred for woman that they'll use it as a conversation starter. I was not impressed.
I just made my way back to the press room to post this and was met by a blogger from central Texas who said that when he tried to go to to a caucus nearby and was told that there were no more seats available. If he wanted to stay, he'd have to stand. This was the Democrats with Disablilities caucus by the way.
Well, I'm heading back to the crowds now. I'll try to post again soon with more Texas Democratic happenings. See ya in a bit.
Friday, May 30, 2008
Vitriol in response to Morford column of 5/21/08
In case you skipped past the column that pissed me off, here's the link again.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
HERE'S the vitriol.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Y'know, until this trivial "gawd/gawdess" shit, so did I.
How quaint.
And nobody's ever done anything GOOD for anybody without first stopping to MEDITATE and BE SELF-CENTERED first, right?
I think that, however fucked-up and failed it is, my life serves as the perfect de-bunker to Morford's theory that Meditation Cures Everyfuckingthing. I've been busting my ass to give back and to help others ALL OF MY FUCKING LIFE, and y'know what I got in return? MOCKERY. No, I never did any of it because I needed a gold star on my forehead or the applause and approval of so-called humans --- the things I've done, I did BECAUSE THEY NEEDED DOING, AND THE MOTHERFUCKERS WHO *SHOULD* HAVE BEEN DOING THEM ***WEREN'T***. Katrina being a prime fucking example.
So just like the bibul-bangers who think that THEY have all of the fucking answers and that only THEY do "good works" for others, Morford is way off the fucking mark here. Maybe his meditation sermon might actually help some of the sheeple out there, but it don't mean shit to me, except that it assumes that NOBODY DOES ANYTHING GOOD FOR ANYBODY ELSE WITHOUT THE INTERVENTION OF A BIG INVISIBLE SKY FAIRY TO **MAKE** THEM DO IT. Which, I believe, dear lady, is horseshit.
Atheists do a helluva lot of good in this world, and I'm sick and fucking tired of people who assume that we don't fucking exist.
Not yelling at YOU, Mags, just pissed-off that Morford is going the way of my other former heartthrob, Olbermann (the guy who advocated being alone in a room with Hillary with, I believe, a baseball bat. Oh, he's a riot, that one!).
Love,
J
P.S. You might want to send Morford a fan letter that says that it's REEEEALLLLY fucking funny when he "jokes" about weird skin eruptions/rashes/irritations, heart palpitations and OTHER SYMPTOMS OF SARCOIDOSIS. Really hilarious. I'm sure that Bernie Mac would be shickled titless, if his organs weren't failing. No, he's not going to die, not yet, but he will, and that'll be why.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
HERE'S the vitriol.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
----- Original Message -----
From: Annti
To: Mags
Sent: Wednesday, May 21, 2008 5:24 PM
Subject: RE: Love this man
How quaint.
And nobody's ever done anything GOOD for anybody without first stopping to MEDITATE and BE SELF-CENTERED first, right?
I think that, however fucked-up and failed it is, my life serves as the perfect de-bunker to Morford's theory that Meditation Cures Everyfuckingthing. I've been busting my ass to give back and to help others ALL OF MY FUCKING LIFE, and y'know what I got in return? MOCKERY. No, I never did any of it because I needed a gold star on my forehead or the applause and approval of so-called humans --- the things I've done, I did BECAUSE THEY NEEDED DOING, AND THE MOTHERFUCKERS WHO *SHOULD* HAVE BEEN DOING THEM ***WEREN'T***. Katrina being a prime fucking example.
So just like the bibul-bangers who think that THEY have all of the fucking answers and that only THEY do "good works" for others, Morford is way off the fucking mark here. Maybe his meditation sermon might actually help some of the sheeple out there, but it don't mean shit to me, except that it assumes that NOBODY DOES ANYTHING GOOD FOR ANYBODY ELSE WITHOUT THE INTERVENTION OF A BIG INVISIBLE SKY FAIRY TO **MAKE** THEM DO IT. Which, I believe, dear lady, is horseshit.
Atheists do a helluva lot of good in this world, and I'm sick and fucking tired of people who assume that we don't fucking exist.
Not yelling at YOU, Mags, just pissed-off that Morford is going the way of my other former heartthrob, Olbermann (the guy who advocated being alone in a room with Hillary with, I believe, a baseball bat. Oh, he's a riot, that one!).
Love,
J
P.S. You might want to send Morford a fan letter that says that it's REEEEALLLLY fucking funny when he "jokes" about weird skin eruptions/rashes/irritations, heart palpitations and OTHER SYMPTOMS OF SARCOIDOSIS. Really hilarious. I'm sure that Bernie Mac would be shickled titless, if his organs weren't failing. No, he's not going to die, not yet, but he will, and that'll be why.
Thursday, May 22, 2008
Random, useless thoughts...
...but I figured that I'd share them with y'all anyway. If I couldn't bitch, my head would explode. And no, none of this will further the national dialogue or bring about brilliant revelations to unite what passes for the Democratic party, or even help a starving kid ANYWHERE. Suck it up or move on. I get more criticism from my own cats, anyway.
1. "Last Comic Standing" is every bit as corrupt, sexist, recidivist and BULLSHIT as it's been every season previous. Women outnumber men in this country by what? Almost 60 to 40%? But, remarkably, MORE MEN are "actually funny," according to the neanderthal "Sopranos" cast-off that passes as a talent scout. Oh, the cute little Korean-American girl got past the first audition (whatta fucking shock, could the white hetero male producers BE any more cliche'?), but the girl who talked about BEING A SINGLE WOMAN, as in, that MIGHT NOT be the WORST possible fate to befall a human being (for surely, it is a pox upon her house, yes?), who was every bit as funny as the younger, skinnier girl who got through, but she got THREE LINES out before they shooed her off the stage. Oh, they did get a lovely BREEDER into the set, 'cause of course, a woman is worth more if her uterus has some mileage, and she'll appeal to that housewares-buying demographic so much better ('cause y'know, spinsters DON'T BUY ANYTHING). When Brett Butler walked out on this bullshit show in the first season, she knew exACTLY what the fuck she was doing. Yeah, yeah, Drew Carey walked out too, but if you haven't met that sweaty little man on the dance floor of the Dungeon, you just don't know what he REALLY thinks of women.
2. PsychoSister and all other ignorant bigots who think that people on disability or who don't make more than $6G a year don't "deserve" anything (Medicare, food, oxygen, cubic footage on this earth, etc.) will be THRILLED to know that their Dick-Cheney-Issued(C) mindset is not only being kept alive, but is also being PROMULGATED by a couple of people who work for the IRS. Sure, sure, the easy joke would be that it's the ENTIRE IRS (duh), but it's not. Until tonight, despite the (however managerial-speak it is inculcated) bullshit that's been shoveled at me thus far by the IRS service line AND 1-800-ASK-USPS, they've still always been HUMAN. It takes twenty to thirty minutes to GET to a human, but when you do, if you must, you actually are more likely to reach a polite, professional ADULT than you are to reach a douchebag.
But here's why I tend to hate a lot of white people: The rich, spoiled, pretentious, wanna-marry-money, gotta-be-a-big-fucking-CUNT-to-prove-my-supposed-"superiority" bitches who don't deserve their fucking jobs. I can't fucking believe the shit that people are allowed to get away with nowadays. Yeah, I've been out of the workforce for years now, but if I had even THOUGHT about affecting the fucking ATTITUDE or the BIGOTRY or the flat-out asinine RUDENESS of these cockbites, I would not only have found my ass on the curb THAT MINUTE, they'd probably have called-in BACK UP to make sure that I left the fucking PROPERTY. I've been fired for SITTING DOWN at work before, how in the FUCK did a hate-mongering Cheney-suckling little ASS-BERET like her MAKE IT THROUGH THE HUMAN RESOURCES DEPARTMENT?!?!?!?!? Do civil-service tests not include psych profiles?
Yes, I could go into everything that the aforementioned assberet (credit that word to CCMcGoon, btw, but I already told her that I was gonna steal it!) actually DID to me, but who really gives a fuck, honestly? Suffice it to say that the mighty-white upper-middle-class (or UMC-WANNABE) mentality is strong and fiercely enforcing the Cheney/Poppy Bush "new world order" down to the last undeserving "welfare queen" on the fucking planet. If that Main Core shit didn't skeer the living shit out of you, try calling your friendly non-local 800# IRS rep. The intensity of the hatred, condescension, stereotyping and bigotry spewed forth from that one little cunt makes even the hardiest LGFucktards troll look like a gawddamned Peace Corps volunteer.
(BTW, if any new folk should happen by here and think that I'm a hate-monger too, it's okay, I glow in the dark, I am mostly caucasian. But I fucking HATE being lumped-in with the lesser-evolved members of this melanin group, i.e. 99.5% of my so-called "family.")
3. Boycott fucking OLD NAVY until they remove that whining, singing-through-the-nose-that-even-plastic-surgery-can't-help, tone-deaf, talentless, ugly-ass, idiotic, classic-case-of-stage-"parents"-worst-failures, more-useless-than-tits-on-a-boar-hog little BITCH Ashley Simpson FROM THE ANNOYING-ASS, OFF-THE-LITERAL-FUCKING-BEAT COMMERCIALS THAT ARE INVADING MY HOUSE AT LEAST EIGHT THOUSAND TIMES A FUCKING DAY. Yeah, I know, turn off the fucking TV, read a book, wash a dish, what the fuck ever. This is my little hermit existence, it ain't much, but it's mine, and I'm sick and fucking TIRED of this HORRIBLE EXCUSE FOR ADVERTISING being RAMMED UP MY ASS SEVERAL THOUSAND TIMES A FUCKING DAY.
It's not bad enough that the majority of ads that you get over rabbit-ears are HORRIBLY-written, horribly-voiced, even-worse "acted" and so forth local ads WHERE THEY LET THE CLIENTS MAKE THEIR OWN COMMERCIALS (there really oughta be a fucking law), no, nooooooo, the crappiest store in every mall (and all malls are inherently evil, in case y'all haven't noticed, unless they're shopping centers that feature LOCAL BUSINESSES, and so few do anymore...) HAS TO BUY-UP ALL OF THE AVAILABLE AIR TIME ON EVERY FUCKING NETWORK. And let their "theme song" be lip-synched by the biggest joke of a "singer" this side of Milli-Vanilli or said joke's T&A sister. Boycott Old Navy, take fake music off of the public airwaves, maybe SOMEDAY the scum known as the "music" industry will take a fucking hint.
I'm sure that I had more points to make when I started this shit (I had a theory going about how they only invented this "stimulus" payment in order to give gubmint contractors to low-rent key-punchers who contributed to the RNC, but it hasn't fleshed-out yet... Gotta find the actual connections somewhere.), but by now, I'm just fucking exhausting. Yeah, I vent because it keeps me from killing the stupid motherfuckers who NEED KILLING, but it's a lotta work, physiologically speaking. Feel free to vent yer own rants/bitches in the comments, though they're more likely to be read over to the mother ship.
1. "Last Comic Standing" is every bit as corrupt, sexist, recidivist and BULLSHIT as it's been every season previous. Women outnumber men in this country by what? Almost 60 to 40%? But, remarkably, MORE MEN are "actually funny," according to the neanderthal "Sopranos" cast-off that passes as a talent scout. Oh, the cute little Korean-American girl got past the first audition (whatta fucking shock, could the white hetero male producers BE any more cliche'?), but the girl who talked about BEING A SINGLE WOMAN, as in, that MIGHT NOT be the WORST possible fate to befall a human being (for surely, it is a pox upon her house, yes?), who was every bit as funny as the younger, skinnier girl who got through, but she got THREE LINES out before they shooed her off the stage. Oh, they did get a lovely BREEDER into the set, 'cause of course, a woman is worth more if her uterus has some mileage, and she'll appeal to that housewares-buying demographic so much better ('cause y'know, spinsters DON'T BUY ANYTHING). When Brett Butler walked out on this bullshit show in the first season, she knew exACTLY what the fuck she was doing. Yeah, yeah, Drew Carey walked out too, but if you haven't met that sweaty little man on the dance floor of the Dungeon, you just don't know what he REALLY thinks of women.
2. PsychoSister and all other ignorant bigots who think that people on disability or who don't make more than $6G a year don't "deserve" anything (Medicare, food, oxygen, cubic footage on this earth, etc.) will be THRILLED to know that their Dick-Cheney-Issued(C) mindset is not only being kept alive, but is also being PROMULGATED by a couple of people who work for the IRS. Sure, sure, the easy joke would be that it's the ENTIRE IRS (duh), but it's not. Until tonight, despite the (however managerial-speak it is inculcated) bullshit that's been shoveled at me thus far by the IRS service line AND 1-800-ASK-USPS, they've still always been HUMAN. It takes twenty to thirty minutes to GET to a human, but when you do, if you must, you actually are more likely to reach a polite, professional ADULT than you are to reach a douchebag.
But here's why I tend to hate a lot of white people: The rich, spoiled, pretentious, wanna-marry-money, gotta-be-a-big-fucking-CUNT-to-prove-my-supposed-"superiority" bitches who don't deserve their fucking jobs. I can't fucking believe the shit that people are allowed to get away with nowadays. Yeah, I've been out of the workforce for years now, but if I had even THOUGHT about affecting the fucking ATTITUDE or the BIGOTRY or the flat-out asinine RUDENESS of these cockbites, I would not only have found my ass on the curb THAT MINUTE, they'd probably have called-in BACK UP to make sure that I left the fucking PROPERTY. I've been fired for SITTING DOWN at work before, how in the FUCK did a hate-mongering Cheney-suckling little ASS-BERET like her MAKE IT THROUGH THE HUMAN RESOURCES DEPARTMENT?!?!?!?!? Do civil-service tests not include psych profiles?
Yes, I could go into everything that the aforementioned assberet (credit that word to CCMcGoon, btw, but I already told her that I was gonna steal it!) actually DID to me, but who really gives a fuck, honestly? Suffice it to say that the mighty-white upper-middle-class (or UMC-WANNABE) mentality is strong and fiercely enforcing the Cheney/Poppy Bush "new world order" down to the last undeserving "welfare queen" on the fucking planet. If that Main Core shit didn't skeer the living shit out of you, try calling your friendly non-local 800# IRS rep. The intensity of the hatred, condescension, stereotyping and bigotry spewed forth from that one little cunt makes even the hardiest LGFucktards troll look like a gawddamned Peace Corps volunteer.
(BTW, if any new folk should happen by here and think that I'm a hate-monger too, it's okay, I glow in the dark, I am mostly caucasian. But I fucking HATE being lumped-in with the lesser-evolved members of this melanin group, i.e. 99.5% of my so-called "family.")
3. Boycott fucking OLD NAVY until they remove that whining, singing-through-the-nose-that-even-plastic-surgery-can't-help, tone-deaf, talentless, ugly-ass, idiotic, classic-case-of-stage-"parents"-worst-failures, more-useless-than-tits-on-a-boar-hog little BITCH Ashley Simpson FROM THE ANNOYING-ASS, OFF-THE-LITERAL-FUCKING-BEAT COMMERCIALS THAT ARE INVADING MY HOUSE AT LEAST EIGHT THOUSAND TIMES A FUCKING DAY. Yeah, I know, turn off the fucking TV, read a book, wash a dish, what the fuck ever. This is my little hermit existence, it ain't much, but it's mine, and I'm sick and fucking TIRED of this HORRIBLE EXCUSE FOR ADVERTISING being RAMMED UP MY ASS SEVERAL THOUSAND TIMES A FUCKING DAY.
It's not bad enough that the majority of ads that you get over rabbit-ears are HORRIBLY-written, horribly-voiced, even-worse "acted" and so forth local ads WHERE THEY LET THE CLIENTS MAKE THEIR OWN COMMERCIALS (there really oughta be a fucking law), no, nooooooo, the crappiest store in every mall (and all malls are inherently evil, in case y'all haven't noticed, unless they're shopping centers that feature LOCAL BUSINESSES, and so few do anymore...) HAS TO BUY-UP ALL OF THE AVAILABLE AIR TIME ON EVERY FUCKING NETWORK. And let their "theme song" be lip-synched by the biggest joke of a "singer" this side of Milli-Vanilli or said joke's T&A sister. Boycott Old Navy, take fake music off of the public airwaves, maybe SOMEDAY the scum known as the "music" industry will take a fucking hint.
I'm sure that I had more points to make when I started this shit (I had a theory going about how they only invented this "stimulus" payment in order to give gubmint contractors to low-rent key-punchers who contributed to the RNC, but it hasn't fleshed-out yet... Gotta find the actual connections somewhere.), but by now, I'm just fucking exhausting. Yeah, I vent because it keeps me from killing the stupid motherfuckers who NEED KILLING, but it's a lotta work, physiologically speaking. Feel free to vent yer own rants/bitches in the comments, though they're more likely to be read over to the mother ship.
Friday, May 2, 2008
There may be hope for this hellhole yet...
This letter to the editor of the Baton Rouge Advocate was printed on April 26, 2008; because the online version of this republicunt rag expects you to PAY four bucks or more to link to letters written by NON-STAFF and which are easily transcribed from the printed newspaper, I've done so here, because I refuse to give my debit card information to these douchebags. (And no, I didn't write the letter; I found it remarkable that ANYONE surviving in the hellhole of Baton Rouge would have the courage to buck the uber-catholic/protestant bibul-banging fanatic majority and use his real name!)
Speculation, soul, abortion, choice
Saturday, Apriil 26, 2008
Baton Rouge Advocate
A writer (letter, March 1), lamenting that U.S. laws prevent forcing a woman to bear a pregnancy she decided to abort, speculated the soul “appears at the very instant of conception.”
Speculation about imaginary entities, such as souls, should never threaten laws that protect women.
The entity, soul, is maintained by tradition, which some people hold more important than fiction because tradition has age. Wikipedia (online) covers “soul.” The paragraph on etymology, which reports “soul” is some 3,000 years old, seems trivial since the underlying concerns and dialogue must have started nearly a 100,000 years ago.
Other paragraphs --- about philosophical views, religious views, etc. --- cover speculations. Thinkers like Plato and Aristotle commented on something prehistoric men imagined might address real concerns: souls empowered awareness and immortality.
Wikipedia’s “list of Star Wars characters” is also fascinating but too new and too widely known as fiction to enter arguments about human reproduction. And in the “information age,” it I unlikely Star Wars characters will ever have the status of ancient phantasms such as the soul.
Facts about human reproduction are also in Wikipedia. The entry “twins,” includes the statement, “Identical twins occur when a single egg is fertilized to form one zygote which then divides into two separate embryos.”
Considering the writer’s speculation that a soul “appears at that very instant of conception,” what happens to the soul when the resulting zygote divides to form identical twins? Does the soul divide and double; does it stay with only one of the embryos, leaving the other one soulless; does an additional soul appear; did two souls appear at conception?
Most people who would force a woman to bear a pregnancy she would abort neither hold the man accountable nor complain about the ubiquitous natural abortions. Estimating the number of natural abortions is difficult. Reported miscarriages approximate 20 percent of known pregnancies; many conceptions naturally terminate too early to be noticed or otherwise go unreported; stillbirths must be included. Perhaps more than 10 million conception are naturally aborted in the United States each year!
Most people who lament laws that protect women ignore these spontaneous abortions. Spontaneous abortions are usually a natural response to something gone wrong --- chromosomal abnormality in the fetus; problems with the uterus, cervix, or placenta; polycentric ovary syndrome; an unhealthy mother/father.
Just as it would be wrong to reverse nature’s abortions, it would be wrong to force a woman to bear a pregnancy she decided to abort. Imaginary entities and people’s opinions about them have no place in the arguments about responsibility, accountability and forcing a woman to bear a pregnancy that she decided to abort.
PHIL B.
Retired chemical engineer
Baton Rouge
Speculation, soul, abortion, choice
Saturday, Apriil 26, 2008
Baton Rouge Advocate
A writer (letter, March 1), lamenting that U.S. laws prevent forcing a woman to bear a pregnancy she decided to abort, speculated the soul “appears at the very instant of conception.”
Speculation about imaginary entities, such as souls, should never threaten laws that protect women.
The entity, soul, is maintained by tradition, which some people hold more important than fiction because tradition has age. Wikipedia (online) covers “soul.” The paragraph on etymology, which reports “soul” is some 3,000 years old, seems trivial since the underlying concerns and dialogue must have started nearly a 100,000 years ago.
Other paragraphs --- about philosophical views, religious views, etc. --- cover speculations. Thinkers like Plato and Aristotle commented on something prehistoric men imagined might address real concerns: souls empowered awareness and immortality.
Wikipedia’s “list of Star Wars characters” is also fascinating but too new and too widely known as fiction to enter arguments about human reproduction. And in the “information age,” it I unlikely Star Wars characters will ever have the status of ancient phantasms such as the soul.
Facts about human reproduction are also in Wikipedia. The entry “twins,” includes the statement, “Identical twins occur when a single egg is fertilized to form one zygote which then divides into two separate embryos.”
Considering the writer’s speculation that a soul “appears at that very instant of conception,” what happens to the soul when the resulting zygote divides to form identical twins? Does the soul divide and double; does it stay with only one of the embryos, leaving the other one soulless; does an additional soul appear; did two souls appear at conception?
Most people who would force a woman to bear a pregnancy she would abort neither hold the man accountable nor complain about the ubiquitous natural abortions. Estimating the number of natural abortions is difficult. Reported miscarriages approximate 20 percent of known pregnancies; many conceptions naturally terminate too early to be noticed or otherwise go unreported; stillbirths must be included. Perhaps more than 10 million conception are naturally aborted in the United States each year!
Most people who lament laws that protect women ignore these spontaneous abortions. Spontaneous abortions are usually a natural response to something gone wrong --- chromosomal abnormality in the fetus; problems with the uterus, cervix, or placenta; polycentric ovary syndrome; an unhealthy mother/father.
Just as it would be wrong to reverse nature’s abortions, it would be wrong to force a woman to bear a pregnancy she decided to abort. Imaginary entities and people’s opinions about them have no place in the arguments about responsibility, accountability and forcing a woman to bear a pregnancy that she decided to abort.
PHIL B.
Retired chemical engineer
Baton Rouge
Friday, April 18, 2008
FUCK. A. BUNCHA. WAL-MART!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Soooooo, I go to drop off one script and pick up another that'd already been called in from Good Doctor's office (the spine surgeon who more than repaired all that Dr. Jackass had fucked-up in '06!), and they tell me "ONE HOUR" until the new one will be ready. No problem, I brought a book (another kind and magnanimous gift of Seattle Dan & Tammy, a fascinating study called "The Beautiful Cigar Girl" by Daniel Stashower, about Edgar Allan Poe and his quest to solve the beastly murder of a poor girl working in a smoke-shop in 19th-Century New York), I was prepared to wait an hour. That's not a ridiculous amount of time for a major pharmacy to take in filling a script.
But after that hour and three cigarettes had passed, I go back into the store, to find out that it's STILL NOT DONE. One of the cashier/clerks in the pharmacy remarked that they couldn't find one of my THREE scripts, to which I replied, there shouldn't BE three scripts, just the TWO, but she ignored me outright. So I sit down on that hard-as-fuck metal bench and wait. And wait. And ask WHYYYYYY IS IT TAKING SO FUCKING LONG?!?!?!?! but without cussing. "We're workin' on it!" was the only answer that I got, over and over and OVER again.
SEVENTY-FIVE FUCKING MINUTES OF THIS HORSESHIT. I talked to the pharmacist, the assistant pharmacist, and four different clerks. "WE'RE WORKIN' ON IT!" was all that I could get.
N0, I didn't go postal on the motherfuckers, because there's always more of THEM than there are of ME, and you KNOW how they stereotype you when you're on pain meds, whether or not you're recovering from the SHEER MEDICAL HELL that I was put through in September. I'm the one who's ordering the step-downs in dosage of my meds, 'cause I'M the one who wants to salvage as many of my brain cells as I can. THEY STILL TREAT YOU LIKE A MED-SEEKING JUNKIE, just like the cocksucking carpetbagging residents & interns of Charity who LOATHED THE POOR PEOPLE WHOM THEY WERE SUPPOSED TO *HELP.* That's why I stopped using these ignorant republicunt hillbillies up here in Hillbilly Hell-Hole, among other reasons that I have more than enumerated already. They've been ringside spectators for all three of the fucking nightmarish surgeries that I've been through in the past couple of years, but they STILL fucked-up my meds and put me through irrevocable TORMENT by fucking my scripts UP (y'ever hadda soak in a tub full of icewater and ice packs in order to sate the screaming/burning hellfire in your joints/connective tissues? OODLES of fun!) and TREATED ME LIKE A MOTHERFUCKING MED-SEEKING JUNKIE.
How fucking stupid was I to think that WAL-MART, THE WORLD-EATING CORPORATION OF ARKIES FROM HELL, would do BETTER?!?!?!? I assumed that they'd at least have some kind of "corporate code of conduct" to keep them from sneering down their fucking noses at a woman in EXCRUCIATING PHYSICAL PAIN. Not so much.
Oh, they're plenty saccharine-sweet when they're bullshitting you about why they haven't done their jobs right, but they still DON'T GIVE A FUCK. Shouldn't that be part of the fucking JOB REQUIREMENTS TO WORK IN *ANY* FUCKING PHARMACY?!?!?!?!?! Shoulda woulda coulda, I know. The real world don't give a fuck.
So, after TWO HOURS AND FIFTEEN MINUTES OF PURE STUPIDITY AND MALFEASANCE, because they didn't LISTEN TO ME or ACTUALLY EXAMINE THEIR SHITTY-ASS COMPUTER SOFTWARE, they try to send me home WITH DRUGS THAT I WASN'T THERE TO GET.
I shit y'all not.
I had already picked up my regular fibro/arthritis meds on Monday, but their stupid fucking computer didn't acknowledge that I'd picked them up. Ultrams are like baby tylenol to me, but allegedly, depending on what idiot in what doctor's office or pharmacy that you listen to, they are the "hot" new street drug. Don't know why, I've never even gotten a WHIFF of a buzz off of them, and they're NOT narcotics. Nonetheless, a free bottle of 180 pills would have a street value of $480-900, depending on the market. If I knew how to sell drugs, and hadn't actually NEEDED the evil shit (oxycontins) that I was on at Charity, I'd still own my house, even if it was mostly in the Gulf of Mexico by now.
Anyway, this is where the ANNTI IS A FUCKING MOW-RAHN part kicks in:
I went back in there, knowing that there's no way that my doctor's office, even on their busiest day, would've called in a DUPLICATE SCRIPT for something that I'd just gotten filled on MONDAY, on the same week's FRIDAY, to show the pharmacist that I wasn't supposed to have those pills.
No, I wasn't being a goody-goody, I didn't want them to bill Medicare/Medicaid TWICE for the same script in a WEEK, because I *knew* that they wouldn't cover it and that it would come back to bite ME in the fucking ass at some point. Other people's fuckups always DO.
Turns out, they'd just GIVEN me the 180 extra Ultrams, and hadn't even CHARGED MY DRUG PLAN FOR THE DAMNED THINGS. If I'd have known that they were off of the fucking BOOKS, I'd have made like Jesse Owens and hauled ass way the fuck outta there, 'cause I never know when I'm going to be fucked-over by some douchebag like my former GP, Rachel Gruner, the stupid cunt "doctor" who CRIES TO ME ABOUT HOW SHE PISSED-AWAY TWO HUNDRED AND FIFTY THOUSAND DOLLARS when I explain to her that I can't afford to drive to Baton Rouge three times a week for "physical therapy" (this is between Dr. Jackass & Good Doctor) that SHE had prescribed, BECAUSE I WAS ON MY LAST SIX FUCKING BUCKS ON THE FIFTEENTH OF THE FUCKING MONTH. So that's how she attempts to "relate"? BY TELLING ME THAT SHE'D BLOWN A QUARTER MIL ON A FUCKING RESTAURANT INVESTMENT?!?!?!! Anyway, I haven't had a GP/regular doctor since her, and when I am finally released from Good Doctor's care and off of the hard shit once and for all, I'm going to need somebody dependable so that I never have to lie in that tub of icewater ever the fuck again. So it wouldn't kill me to have a backup bottle in the freezer, y'know?
Especially when they're FREE.
But my narcotic-hampered brain DIDN'T THINK OF THAT. Noooo, no, all that I thought of was covering my ass in re: my fucking drug plan and Wally-World trying to double-bill.
Again, if I hadn't walked in there and HANDED THEM BACK TO THE PHARMACIST, I'd have been home free, dumbass that I am. If I hung out with the crackheads around here, I'd have known where to sell the motherfuckers at $3 to $5 a pop, and I'd have had my truck fixed TOMORROW!!!!!! But then, the pharmacist assumed that I was rightly entitled to them and didn't bother to tell me that he'd filled them off the books, so how was he to know that THEY had fucked-up and given me TOO MANY DRUGS?
Oh, right.
'CAUSE I FUCKING ***TOLD*** THEM THAT I ALREADY HAD MY ULTRAMS!!!!!!
Some motherfucker owes me $65 for that wasted hour and a quarter of my life, spent on the most uncomfortable piece-of-shit bench IN A FUCKING WAL-MART, based upon my last pay rates doing production in radio. Fifty bucks an hour, MINIMUM. I'll happily take it in a fucking GIFT CARD. Granted, if I'd SOLD the fucking extra pills, I'd be SEVERAL HUNDRED DOLLARS RICHER, but I'll settle for the sixty-five.
That's what you get for telling the fucking truth: BUPKIS. Your time wasted, your physical agony spent for nothing, and your entire fucking WEEK fucked-up with self-recrimination.
But after that hour and three cigarettes had passed, I go back into the store, to find out that it's STILL NOT DONE. One of the cashier/clerks in the pharmacy remarked that they couldn't find one of my THREE scripts, to which I replied, there shouldn't BE three scripts, just the TWO, but she ignored me outright. So I sit down on that hard-as-fuck metal bench and wait. And wait. And ask WHYYYYYY IS IT TAKING SO FUCKING LONG?!?!?!?! but without cussing. "We're workin' on it!" was the only answer that I got, over and over and OVER again.
SEVENTY-FIVE FUCKING MINUTES OF THIS HORSESHIT. I talked to the pharmacist, the assistant pharmacist, and four different clerks. "WE'RE WORKIN' ON IT!" was all that I could get.
N0, I didn't go postal on the motherfuckers, because there's always more of THEM than there are of ME, and you KNOW how they stereotype you when you're on pain meds, whether or not you're recovering from the SHEER MEDICAL HELL that I was put through in September. I'm the one who's ordering the step-downs in dosage of my meds, 'cause I'M the one who wants to salvage as many of my brain cells as I can. THEY STILL TREAT YOU LIKE A MED-SEEKING JUNKIE, just like the cocksucking carpetbagging residents & interns of Charity who LOATHED THE POOR PEOPLE WHOM THEY WERE SUPPOSED TO *HELP.* That's why I stopped using these ignorant republicunt hillbillies up here in Hillbilly Hell-Hole, among other reasons that I have more than enumerated already. They've been ringside spectators for all three of the fucking nightmarish surgeries that I've been through in the past couple of years, but they STILL fucked-up my meds and put me through irrevocable TORMENT by fucking my scripts UP (y'ever hadda soak in a tub full of icewater and ice packs in order to sate the screaming/burning hellfire in your joints/connective tissues? OODLES of fun!) and TREATED ME LIKE A MOTHERFUCKING MED-SEEKING JUNKIE.
How fucking stupid was I to think that WAL-MART, THE WORLD-EATING CORPORATION OF ARKIES FROM HELL, would do BETTER?!?!?!? I assumed that they'd at least have some kind of "corporate code of conduct" to keep them from sneering down their fucking noses at a woman in EXCRUCIATING PHYSICAL PAIN. Not so much.
Oh, they're plenty saccharine-sweet when they're bullshitting you about why they haven't done their jobs right, but they still DON'T GIVE A FUCK. Shouldn't that be part of the fucking JOB REQUIREMENTS TO WORK IN *ANY* FUCKING PHARMACY?!?!?!?!?! Shoulda woulda coulda, I know. The real world don't give a fuck.
So, after TWO HOURS AND FIFTEEN MINUTES OF PURE STUPIDITY AND MALFEASANCE, because they didn't LISTEN TO ME or ACTUALLY EXAMINE THEIR SHITTY-ASS COMPUTER SOFTWARE, they try to send me home WITH DRUGS THAT I WASN'T THERE TO GET.
I shit y'all not.
I had already picked up my regular fibro/arthritis meds on Monday, but their stupid fucking computer didn't acknowledge that I'd picked them up. Ultrams are like baby tylenol to me, but allegedly, depending on what idiot in what doctor's office or pharmacy that you listen to, they are the "hot" new street drug. Don't know why, I've never even gotten a WHIFF of a buzz off of them, and they're NOT narcotics. Nonetheless, a free bottle of 180 pills would have a street value of $480-900, depending on the market. If I knew how to sell drugs, and hadn't actually NEEDED the evil shit (oxycontins) that I was on at Charity, I'd still own my house, even if it was mostly in the Gulf of Mexico by now.
Anyway, this is where the ANNTI IS A FUCKING MOW-RAHN part kicks in:
I went back in there, knowing that there's no way that my doctor's office, even on their busiest day, would've called in a DUPLICATE SCRIPT for something that I'd just gotten filled on MONDAY, on the same week's FRIDAY, to show the pharmacist that I wasn't supposed to have those pills.
No, I wasn't being a goody-goody, I didn't want them to bill Medicare/Medicaid TWICE for the same script in a WEEK, because I *knew* that they wouldn't cover it and that it would come back to bite ME in the fucking ass at some point. Other people's fuckups always DO.
Turns out, they'd just GIVEN me the 180 extra Ultrams, and hadn't even CHARGED MY DRUG PLAN FOR THE DAMNED THINGS. If I'd have known that they were off of the fucking BOOKS, I'd have made like Jesse Owens and hauled ass way the fuck outta there, 'cause I never know when I'm going to be fucked-over by some douchebag like my former GP, Rachel Gruner, the stupid cunt "doctor" who CRIES TO ME ABOUT HOW SHE PISSED-AWAY TWO HUNDRED AND FIFTY THOUSAND DOLLARS when I explain to her that I can't afford to drive to Baton Rouge three times a week for "physical therapy" (this is between Dr. Jackass & Good Doctor) that SHE had prescribed, BECAUSE I WAS ON MY LAST SIX FUCKING BUCKS ON THE FIFTEENTH OF THE FUCKING MONTH. So that's how she attempts to "relate"? BY TELLING ME THAT SHE'D BLOWN A QUARTER MIL ON A FUCKING RESTAURANT INVESTMENT?!?!?!! Anyway, I haven't had a GP/regular doctor since her, and when I am finally released from Good Doctor's care and off of the hard shit once and for all, I'm going to need somebody dependable so that I never have to lie in that tub of icewater ever the fuck again. So it wouldn't kill me to have a backup bottle in the freezer, y'know?
Especially when they're FREE.
But my narcotic-hampered brain DIDN'T THINK OF THAT. Noooo, no, all that I thought of was covering my ass in re: my fucking drug plan and Wally-World trying to double-bill.
Again, if I hadn't walked in there and HANDED THEM BACK TO THE PHARMACIST, I'd have been home free, dumbass that I am. If I hung out with the crackheads around here, I'd have known where to sell the motherfuckers at $3 to $5 a pop, and I'd have had my truck fixed TOMORROW!!!!!! But then, the pharmacist assumed that I was rightly entitled to them and didn't bother to tell me that he'd filled them off the books, so how was he to know that THEY had fucked-up and given me TOO MANY DRUGS?
Oh, right.
'CAUSE I FUCKING ***TOLD*** THEM THAT I ALREADY HAD MY ULTRAMS!!!!!!
Some motherfucker owes me $65 for that wasted hour and a quarter of my life, spent on the most uncomfortable piece-of-shit bench IN A FUCKING WAL-MART, based upon my last pay rates doing production in radio. Fifty bucks an hour, MINIMUM. I'll happily take it in a fucking GIFT CARD. Granted, if I'd SOLD the fucking extra pills, I'd be SEVERAL HUNDRED DOLLARS RICHER, but I'll settle for the sixty-five.
That's what you get for telling the fucking truth: BUPKIS. Your time wasted, your physical agony spent for nothing, and your entire fucking WEEK fucked-up with self-recrimination.
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