On December 27th, 2005, Paula Anne Gallant, 36, a grade 3 teacher from Beechville- Lakeside-Timberlea Elementary School was murdered and left in the trunk of her car outside that very school in which she taught. Today marks the second anniversary of her murder. Although her case remains unsolved to date, the RCMP are actively engaged in this investigation and are urging anyone with information to come forward.
On behalf of our family, and especially our children, Timothy, Connor, Dylan and Emily we are asking anyone that has ANY INFORMATION to contact the RCMP. We need your help…..please think about Tuesday, December 27th, 2005 and try and remember every single detail. We have all suffered such a great loss, but the children, our children and Paula’s many students, have been so painfully affected. They ask the tough questions and are especially tormented with one big question; Why? "Why would someone murder HER?" We have no answers for them. Why is such an important element of this investigation. If we can answer the "why", it may lead to the "who".
If you have heard or know anything about this case, please be a hero and speak for Paula. Even if the information you have may seem insignificant, please report it. If she went for a walk with her dog everyday to get the mail and you saw her on December 27th, 2005 getting her mail, please advise the Integrated Major Crime Unit. You may have that one piece of critical information that could solve this case. At the time of her death Paula resided at 41 Silver Maple Drive in Timberlea, Nova Scotia. She drove two different vehicles prior to her murder. Her body was found in her 1997 Green Chevrolet Cavalier License Plate BMP 504 and she owned a Blue Mazda Tribute License Plate DZR 168.
Did you see Paula anytime on December 27th, 2005? Was she walking? Was she driving either vehicle? Did you see anything unusual or suspicious on Silver Maple Drive or in the community including the school ground? All this information is important. Please talk to your children. They may have seen something while they were playing outside with their friends. Just try and imagine if this happened to someone in your life. You would want people to get involved. Please help if you can.
Please report any information you may have about Paula and her murder. Fact or fiction….let the investigation team determine the importance.
And to Paula’s killer (s)…please know, you have silenced Paula, but you cannot silence the hundreds of people who love her, miss her and will fight for the justice she deserves. Do the right thing, grow a conscience and turn yourself in….you will be caught…and soon.
Contact Crime Stoppers at 1-800-222-8477 or the Integrated Major Crime Unit at 490-5333. There is a $50,000 Reward being offered as well.
Thank You,
Lynn Gallant-Blackburn and Lana Kenny (Paula’s sisters)
Please visit Paula’s website at www.paulagallant.com
Thursday, December 27, 2007
Wednesday, December 26, 2007
'Twas the Day After Christmas
'Twas the week after Christmas and all through the Strait, all the parents and shoppers like me celebrate. "Why so late?" you might ask. "Why the lengthy delay? All the good stuff is over. Why, it's Boxing Day!"
Now don't get me wrong, 'cause I'm far from a Grinch. I have kids, so I have to give more than an inch. My village is out, all my Christmas cards sent, and God knows a truckload of money's been spent. The manger scene sits there, as well as the tree; yes, that 'ol Martha Stewart has nothin' on me. While it sounds picturesque, and while some parts were fun, you're looking at one girl who's glad it's all done.
And so why am I so glad the season is over?
Quite simple.
It's because it starts in October.
Not all "big days" hang there like this Christmas loomed. By the time Halloween came, I knew I was doomed. I went to the mall, and much to my chagrin, there were Santas where all of the costumes had been. And what of the candy? Where'd all of that go? Instead there were aisles full of lights and fake snow. And then, to my horror, the loudspeaker hurled a cheery rendition of "Joy to the World". I just wasn't ready, that's all there was to it. I nearly picked up a glass reindeer and threw it! I wanted to ask them, "what's with all the rush?", as the shelf-stockers stocked shelves with stockings of plush. But it was too late, 'cause the ball was now rolling. The shoppers were thrilled with the aisles they were trolling.
And so it began, the hypnosis of cheer, when smart people are turned into zombies each year. It's just like a movie, to watch it take place. Every single thing changes; it's quite a disgrace. Suddenly shopping turns into a job, costing three times as much, in the midst of the mob. We fill up our carts with a big goofy smile, and the big wigs are laughing at us all the while. It's the flip side where things become really quite sad, when we, young and old, start behaving so bad. Sweet little old ladies, so gentle at heart, become monsters who will run you down with their cart. To get the last Bratz doll (for which he'll overpay), a father will hip-check you out of the way. The workers are short, as they look on the shelf, and may very well tell you to "find it yourself". And just when you think that things couldn't get worse, when you're sure you'll end up in the back of a hearse....with your two kids in tow, maybe even your Grandma - you remember you have to go to Dollarama. With that single thought, down your cheek rolls a tear. Is there anywhere worse to be this time of year? If there is, I can tell you that I haven't found it. Whenever we leave there, one of my kids are grounded.
Long gone are the days where the kids want some blocks, or a new Crazy Carpet, or navy-blue Crocs. Instead, when they make it up on Santa's knee, they ask for a laptop and Playstation 3. We buy mine nice presents, both me and my spouse, but nothing requiring us to mortgage our house.
Then how 'bout the grand event of Christmas dinner? That thing should be outlawed, it makes you no thinner. You all get together, your uncles, your brother, the whole bunch, pretending to all like each other. You've gained 15lbs and when meal time has passed, you're still faced with those dirty dishes, en masse.
And let's not forget the big night at the school. Part of me wants it cancelled, there should be a rule, or at least a good system to get us all through it. I really don't know how all those teachers do it. The kids are so cute, as they're singing their song - too bad the whole concert is nine hours long. It might sound quite scroogy, but between you and me, there isn't a parent who doesn't agree.
So here we are now, at the end of the season. If I seem a bit chipper, you now know the reason. I so don't hate Christmas, don't get that impression, I just understand why it leads to depression. As soon as the novelty wears off, we're fine, but while we're in the zone, we're all losing our minds. Once the garland and glitter is out of the stores, once the grandiose visions seep out of our pores, once the great expectations have all came and went, we'll be back to ourselves and preparing for Lent. Please take this short story and try to remember - here's hoping next year it won't start in September.
Now don't get me wrong, 'cause I'm far from a Grinch. I have kids, so I have to give more than an inch. My village is out, all my Christmas cards sent, and God knows a truckload of money's been spent. The manger scene sits there, as well as the tree; yes, that 'ol Martha Stewart has nothin' on me. While it sounds picturesque, and while some parts were fun, you're looking at one girl who's glad it's all done.
And so why am I so glad the season is over?
Quite simple.
It's because it starts in October.
Not all "big days" hang there like this Christmas loomed. By the time Halloween came, I knew I was doomed. I went to the mall, and much to my chagrin, there were Santas where all of the costumes had been. And what of the candy? Where'd all of that go? Instead there were aisles full of lights and fake snow. And then, to my horror, the loudspeaker hurled a cheery rendition of "Joy to the World". I just wasn't ready, that's all there was to it. I nearly picked up a glass reindeer and threw it! I wanted to ask them, "what's with all the rush?", as the shelf-stockers stocked shelves with stockings of plush. But it was too late, 'cause the ball was now rolling. The shoppers were thrilled with the aisles they were trolling.
And so it began, the hypnosis of cheer, when smart people are turned into zombies each year. It's just like a movie, to watch it take place. Every single thing changes; it's quite a disgrace. Suddenly shopping turns into a job, costing three times as much, in the midst of the mob. We fill up our carts with a big goofy smile, and the big wigs are laughing at us all the while. It's the flip side where things become really quite sad, when we, young and old, start behaving so bad. Sweet little old ladies, so gentle at heart, become monsters who will run you down with their cart. To get the last Bratz doll (for which he'll overpay), a father will hip-check you out of the way. The workers are short, as they look on the shelf, and may very well tell you to "find it yourself". And just when you think that things couldn't get worse, when you're sure you'll end up in the back of a hearse....with your two kids in tow, maybe even your Grandma - you remember you have to go to Dollarama. With that single thought, down your cheek rolls a tear. Is there anywhere worse to be this time of year? If there is, I can tell you that I haven't found it. Whenever we leave there, one of my kids are grounded.
Long gone are the days where the kids want some blocks, or a new Crazy Carpet, or navy-blue Crocs. Instead, when they make it up on Santa's knee, they ask for a laptop and Playstation 3. We buy mine nice presents, both me and my spouse, but nothing requiring us to mortgage our house.
Then how 'bout the grand event of Christmas dinner? That thing should be outlawed, it makes you no thinner. You all get together, your uncles, your brother, the whole bunch, pretending to all like each other. You've gained 15lbs and when meal time has passed, you're still faced with those dirty dishes, en masse.
And let's not forget the big night at the school. Part of me wants it cancelled, there should be a rule, or at least a good system to get us all through it. I really don't know how all those teachers do it. The kids are so cute, as they're singing their song - too bad the whole concert is nine hours long. It might sound quite scroogy, but between you and me, there isn't a parent who doesn't agree.
So here we are now, at the end of the season. If I seem a bit chipper, you now know the reason. I so don't hate Christmas, don't get that impression, I just understand why it leads to depression. As soon as the novelty wears off, we're fine, but while we're in the zone, we're all losing our minds. Once the garland and glitter is out of the stores, once the grandiose visions seep out of our pores, once the great expectations have all came and went, we'll be back to ourselves and preparing for Lent. Please take this short story and try to remember - here's hoping next year it won't start in September.
Sunday, December 23, 2007
NEW BLOGS
Merry X-mas everyone! With all the X-mas chaos, I won't be posting another blog until Boxing Day (though it's a good one, in my opinion...).
And also, please log on December 27th for a very important letter from Paula Gallant's family.
Have a fun & safe holiday everyone!
And also, please log on December 27th for a very important letter from Paula Gallant's family.
Have a fun & safe holiday everyone!
Thursday, December 20, 2007
No-brainer
Two things high on the list of Cape Breton economic necessities, are jobs and tourists. Something that would provide both would be a godsend, wouldn't it?
This is why I can't understand how people haven't jumped on the Cape Breton-PEI Ferry bandwagon.
I accept that a project of this magnitude has it's obstacles and carries a bit of the "pipe dream" stigma. After all, even though the infrastructure is already in place in PEI, there isn't even a hint of that same infrastructure in Port Hood, the proposed location for the terminal. Cape Bretoners are so used to seeing the short end of government spending, that an opportunity like this seems unattainable to many folks here. To build a ferry terminal in western Cape Breton would require a substantial amount of funding (around $4 million dollars, according to my interpretation of the figures), and the attitude of the majority seems to be supportive but doubtful at the same time.
But just think about it. Places on the mainland with aggressive politicians have no shortage of government dollars to play with, and often for trivial pursuits. Why shouldn't Cape Breton be granted a piece of the pie, too? The Provincial Government just announced a $30 million dollar investment for renovations to an old government building in the Halifax Regional Municipality (that must be some awfully pretty siding). And Halifax is asking for $14 million to fund another ferry for the Eastern Passage area, an expansion of their public transit system. And what do those projects really contribute to the majority of Nova Scotians? Not much that I can see. Enjoying the beautiful landscape of the expensively renovated Joseph Howe building, and knowing that folks in Eastern Passage cut a few minutes off their commute time, doesn't do anything for the livelihood of people from Port Hastings or Inverness. Hundreds of much-needed jobs would be created with a ferry connecting Cape Breton and PEI, both from the construction and subsequent operation of a ferry terminal. Instead of spending tens of thousands of dollars on advertising initiatives that discourage workers from moving out West, why not sink some money into a project that allows them to stay and thrive at home?
And we can't underestimate the extra tourism that would be generated by this ferry link. Visitors to PEI would be much more likely to scoot over to Cape Breton if it meant a short ferry ride between them and the Cabot Trail, than they are now, having to double back on the Pictou ferry and then face a long drive to our Island.
Granted, this is an idealistic projection of the ferry link enterprise, but even the hard facts are encouraging. The Federal Government recently announced over $60 million dollars in planned rural building and infrastructure funding for communities across Canada with a population of less than one-hundred thousand, which Port Hood would surely qualify for. In addition, a 2000 feasibility study done to examine the viability of the ferry link idea produced a positive endorsement.
Unfortunately, then-Premier John Hamm didn't provide much support for the project. Many speculated that the proposal was met with heavy opposition largely because Premier Hamm was from Pictou, the site that boasts the only Nova Scotian ferry link to PEI, and that a Cape Breton alternative would pose a threat to their economy, as direct competition. Fair enough, the opposition might have been justified in it's concern (though an increase in tourism in that area is also a likely possibility).
To that, I say tit for tat. Rodney MacDonald is Premier now, which is all the more reason for this project to receive further serious consideration. Why shouldn't we reap the benefits of having a home-grown Premier who, hopefully, understands, appreciates, and relates to the problems and needs of the people he directly represents as MLA in his riding? Other Premiers have had no trouble looking out for number one, so I say it's about time Rodney MacDonald does the same. Halifax has all the help it needs; bring your clout back home, Rodney.
My bottom line is this: a ferry service to PEI, located in western Cape Breton, has many more obvious pros than it does cons. The funding for large projects like this is available to those who are willing to fight for it, and Cape Breton has politely fallen by the wayside for far too long, in my opinion. This is an opportunity for everyone to get together and get behind something that would be a great step forward for all Islanders. Because, as the saying goes, "if you build it, they will come."
This is why I can't understand how people haven't jumped on the Cape Breton-PEI Ferry bandwagon.
I accept that a project of this magnitude has it's obstacles and carries a bit of the "pipe dream" stigma. After all, even though the infrastructure is already in place in PEI, there isn't even a hint of that same infrastructure in Port Hood, the proposed location for the terminal. Cape Bretoners are so used to seeing the short end of government spending, that an opportunity like this seems unattainable to many folks here. To build a ferry terminal in western Cape Breton would require a substantial amount of funding (around $4 million dollars, according to my interpretation of the figures), and the attitude of the majority seems to be supportive but doubtful at the same time.
But just think about it. Places on the mainland with aggressive politicians have no shortage of government dollars to play with, and often for trivial pursuits. Why shouldn't Cape Breton be granted a piece of the pie, too? The Provincial Government just announced a $30 million dollar investment for renovations to an old government building in the Halifax Regional Municipality (that must be some awfully pretty siding). And Halifax is asking for $14 million to fund another ferry for the Eastern Passage area, an expansion of their public transit system. And what do those projects really contribute to the majority of Nova Scotians? Not much that I can see. Enjoying the beautiful landscape of the expensively renovated Joseph Howe building, and knowing that folks in Eastern Passage cut a few minutes off their commute time, doesn't do anything for the livelihood of people from Port Hastings or Inverness. Hundreds of much-needed jobs would be created with a ferry connecting Cape Breton and PEI, both from the construction and subsequent operation of a ferry terminal. Instead of spending tens of thousands of dollars on advertising initiatives that discourage workers from moving out West, why not sink some money into a project that allows them to stay and thrive at home?
And we can't underestimate the extra tourism that would be generated by this ferry link. Visitors to PEI would be much more likely to scoot over to Cape Breton if it meant a short ferry ride between them and the Cabot Trail, than they are now, having to double back on the Pictou ferry and then face a long drive to our Island.
Granted, this is an idealistic projection of the ferry link enterprise, but even the hard facts are encouraging. The Federal Government recently announced over $60 million dollars in planned rural building and infrastructure funding for communities across Canada with a population of less than one-hundred thousand, which Port Hood would surely qualify for. In addition, a 2000 feasibility study done to examine the viability of the ferry link idea produced a positive endorsement.
Unfortunately, then-Premier John Hamm didn't provide much support for the project. Many speculated that the proposal was met with heavy opposition largely because Premier Hamm was from Pictou, the site that boasts the only Nova Scotian ferry link to PEI, and that a Cape Breton alternative would pose a threat to their economy, as direct competition. Fair enough, the opposition might have been justified in it's concern (though an increase in tourism in that area is also a likely possibility).
To that, I say tit for tat. Rodney MacDonald is Premier now, which is all the more reason for this project to receive further serious consideration. Why shouldn't we reap the benefits of having a home-grown Premier who, hopefully, understands, appreciates, and relates to the problems and needs of the people he directly represents as MLA in his riding? Other Premiers have had no trouble looking out for number one, so I say it's about time Rodney MacDonald does the same. Halifax has all the help it needs; bring your clout back home, Rodney.
My bottom line is this: a ferry service to PEI, located in western Cape Breton, has many more obvious pros than it does cons. The funding for large projects like this is available to those who are willing to fight for it, and Cape Breton has politely fallen by the wayside for far too long, in my opinion. This is an opportunity for everyone to get together and get behind something that would be a great step forward for all Islanders. Because, as the saying goes, "if you build it, they will come."
Saturday, December 15, 2007
Merry Effing Christmas
I have a love-hate relationship with Wal-Mart. I love it so much, and at the same time, I have fantasies about it burning to the ground half the time. (Call off the dogs, paranoid people....I'm not about to burn Wal-Mart down)
Last night is a prime example.
A few days ago, I had to put a few things on layaway. GREAT idea.
Another great idea, thanks to the brilliant minds at Walmart, is that all Christmas layaways have to be picked up by December 15th, regardless of when you actually put it on layaway (for example, I didn't have enough money on me the other day to get something, so I wanted to lay it away so that no one else would swipe it up. Even though I only put it on layaway on the 10th, it still had to picked up by the 15th, or it would be put back on the sales floor). Which means that there is sure to be 15 million people in the layaway department in and around December 15th.
I suppose I should give a short preamble so that those of you reading will understand my passion about this particular layaway I'll be talking about.
I don't have to explain to my friends about the "Cars" oddesey. It consumes the lives in the MacDonald household. Rory LOVES that movie, and I'm not talking regular love, I'm talking obsession love. We started buying him all the little die-cast dinkies with the characters from the movie, and it became a collection. Problem is, some of them are really hard to find, and they always go really fast. So when there is new "Cars" inventory, I have tried to buy it right away, since I know that the new "Sherrif" or "Luigi" will be gone next time I'm there. That was the case with these two layaways. One day I went it and there were 2 new ones there, and a few days later there are 8 new ones there. If they were cheap, I would have just picked them up, but the little suckers are like $5 apiece. So I had 10 "Cars" on layaway at Walmart, and they had to be picked up by the 15th. I couldn't just leave them there and re-buy them, which is why it was so important.
Aaaaanyway....I dropped on on Wednesday to pick them up. BIG mistake, since it was family allowance day. I would have had to park in Tamarac.
When I went on Thursday, it was just as busy, so I left.
So last night I had an hour or so on my hands, we were bored, and I decided to brave the lineup and get it overwith.
Well what a huge mistake.
The lineup for the layaway department was all the way over to the freezers (for those of you who don't know the layout of the Port Hawkesbury Walmart, let's just say it was insanely long, put it that way). Luckily there was a woman in front of me that I knew, so that helped pass the time. Her kids were going to and from the toy section go get things to occupy Rory (who was with me.....what a great idea THAT was.). I couldn't understand what the hold up was, but I found out when I finally got to the counter (A FULL TWO AND A HALF HOURS LATER).
The layaway department only had ONE PERSON working. ONE PERSON FOR THOSE 5 MILLION PEOPLE WHO THEY SHOULD HAVE COMPLETELY EXPECTED SINCE IT WAS ONE OF THE LAST DAYS TO PICK UP CHRISTMAS LAYAWAYS. I was furious. The guy behind the counter was understandably frazzled.
Then it occured to me that, not only was the linup for layaways, but it was the "Tax Exemption" line. So basically every friggin Indian from here to Eskasoni to Chapel Island was in that same lineup buying cartloads of stuff and picking up THEIR layaways too, since the front cash registers didn't do their tax exemption. Now it's not their fault, I'm sure they all would have went to a regular cash if they could, but they couldn't.
Now don't you think, knowing that the natives get their cheques on a certain day and that they'll all be doing their x-mas shopping on that day, that Walmart would have made arrangements to do the tax examptions at the front cash to ease the congestion at the layaway department, especially knowing how busy it was going to be on December 14th?
PISS ME OFF.
Many of you are probably saying "I would have just left", but someone on staff had already told us that the lineup would be much worse today, and I HAD to get those cars for Rory. HAD to.
Just picture me. In a lineup. With a cranky Rory in my cart. With a million people around me, all with screaming kids and cartloads of x-mas crap. It's hot. It smells. There are people bumping into you with their carts and people trying to get by. For two and a half hours. Me. Of all people.
I thought I might kill someone.
But I somehow managed to control my homicidal urges, and no one got hurt.
So Walmart, listen up! Number one, let people pick up their layaway within 30 days, just like any other month. That way, you won't have a million cranky people like me arriving on your doorstep over 2 or 3 days, you'd have them spread out more.
Number two, when you ARE expecting these million people, have more than one person working in the layaway department, instead of having 5 employees gathered in electronics talking about who won the Leafs game. We know you're great at standing around and being useless, but Christmas is not the time for you to practice that.
Number three, look at the effing calendar. If I know to avoid Walmart on the 13-15 of December b/c it's family allowance day and Indian cheque day and layaway pickup day, then YOU should know that too, and prepare for it.
Number four, ring in the tax exemptions at every cash. Use your head. Not in the layaway department during one of the busiest days of the year.
Number five, go to hell. All of you. Whoever comes up with these policies should be allowed to have a job. Or a wife. Or a life. Or anything. They should be shot with a ball of their own shot and sent home to ponder how stupid they are.
Anyway, that's my daily dose of bitching and complaining. I was not impressed.
Last night is a prime example.
A few days ago, I had to put a few things on layaway. GREAT idea.
Another great idea, thanks to the brilliant minds at Walmart, is that all Christmas layaways have to be picked up by December 15th, regardless of when you actually put it on layaway (for example, I didn't have enough money on me the other day to get something, so I wanted to lay it away so that no one else would swipe it up. Even though I only put it on layaway on the 10th, it still had to picked up by the 15th, or it would be put back on the sales floor). Which means that there is sure to be 15 million people in the layaway department in and around December 15th.
I suppose I should give a short preamble so that those of you reading will understand my passion about this particular layaway I'll be talking about.
I don't have to explain to my friends about the "Cars" oddesey. It consumes the lives in the MacDonald household. Rory LOVES that movie, and I'm not talking regular love, I'm talking obsession love. We started buying him all the little die-cast dinkies with the characters from the movie, and it became a collection. Problem is, some of them are really hard to find, and they always go really fast. So when there is new "Cars" inventory, I have tried to buy it right away, since I know that the new "Sherrif" or "Luigi" will be gone next time I'm there. That was the case with these two layaways. One day I went it and there were 2 new ones there, and a few days later there are 8 new ones there. If they were cheap, I would have just picked them up, but the little suckers are like $5 apiece. So I had 10 "Cars" on layaway at Walmart, and they had to be picked up by the 15th. I couldn't just leave them there and re-buy them, which is why it was so important.
Aaaaanyway....I dropped on on Wednesday to pick them up. BIG mistake, since it was family allowance day. I would have had to park in Tamarac.
When I went on Thursday, it was just as busy, so I left.
So last night I had an hour or so on my hands, we were bored, and I decided to brave the lineup and get it overwith.
Well what a huge mistake.
The lineup for the layaway department was all the way over to the freezers (for those of you who don't know the layout of the Port Hawkesbury Walmart, let's just say it was insanely long, put it that way). Luckily there was a woman in front of me that I knew, so that helped pass the time. Her kids were going to and from the toy section go get things to occupy Rory (who was with me.....what a great idea THAT was.). I couldn't understand what the hold up was, but I found out when I finally got to the counter (A FULL TWO AND A HALF HOURS LATER).
The layaway department only had ONE PERSON working. ONE PERSON FOR THOSE 5 MILLION PEOPLE WHO THEY SHOULD HAVE COMPLETELY EXPECTED SINCE IT WAS ONE OF THE LAST DAYS TO PICK UP CHRISTMAS LAYAWAYS. I was furious. The guy behind the counter was understandably frazzled.
Then it occured to me that, not only was the linup for layaways, but it was the "Tax Exemption" line. So basically every friggin Indian from here to Eskasoni to Chapel Island was in that same lineup buying cartloads of stuff and picking up THEIR layaways too, since the front cash registers didn't do their tax exemption. Now it's not their fault, I'm sure they all would have went to a regular cash if they could, but they couldn't.
Now don't you think, knowing that the natives get their cheques on a certain day and that they'll all be doing their x-mas shopping on that day, that Walmart would have made arrangements to do the tax examptions at the front cash to ease the congestion at the layaway department, especially knowing how busy it was going to be on December 14th?
PISS ME OFF.
Many of you are probably saying "I would have just left", but someone on staff had already told us that the lineup would be much worse today, and I HAD to get those cars for Rory. HAD to.
Just picture me. In a lineup. With a cranky Rory in my cart. With a million people around me, all with screaming kids and cartloads of x-mas crap. It's hot. It smells. There are people bumping into you with their carts and people trying to get by. For two and a half hours. Me. Of all people.
I thought I might kill someone.
But I somehow managed to control my homicidal urges, and no one got hurt.
So Walmart, listen up! Number one, let people pick up their layaway within 30 days, just like any other month. That way, you won't have a million cranky people like me arriving on your doorstep over 2 or 3 days, you'd have them spread out more.
Number two, when you ARE expecting these million people, have more than one person working in the layaway department, instead of having 5 employees gathered in electronics talking about who won the Leafs game. We know you're great at standing around and being useless, but Christmas is not the time for you to practice that.
Number three, look at the effing calendar. If I know to avoid Walmart on the 13-15 of December b/c it's family allowance day and Indian cheque day and layaway pickup day, then YOU should know that too, and prepare for it.
Number four, ring in the tax exemptions at every cash. Use your head. Not in the layaway department during one of the busiest days of the year.
Number five, go to hell. All of you. Whoever comes up with these policies should be allowed to have a job. Or a wife. Or a life. Or anything. They should be shot with a ball of their own shot and sent home to ponder how stupid they are.
Anyway, that's my daily dose of bitching and complaining. I was not impressed.
Thursday, December 13, 2007
Play Nice
All kids fight, and mine are hardly an exception. I often have to moderate their arguments and deliver a stern "smarten up" when things get out of hand. My kids are 9 and 2.
How sad that the Minister of Education, Karen Casey, had to lay down the law with her children, the Strait Regional School Board. Those kids are much older than mine, and they should know better.
I would be remiss not to add that, while the majority of instigators have been School Board members for awhile, there are a few new faces who should, perhaps, be excluded from a tongue-lashing like this. I am left to wonder why these folks would jump into such a snakepit, but I am assuming they will act as professionals during their tenure, and I am hopeful that fresh eyes, minds, and attitudes will be beneficial to the students in our area.
Members of the SRSB are elected representatives, which means they are obligated to serve the people. They are also paid representatives, which means they are paid by those same people. I'm sure the taxpayers who furnish those salaries - working mothers, cell center toilers, labourers who work 16-hour days - would all agree that School Board members are compensated handsomely for the work they do. One would think they could behave themselves for long enough to complete the tasks at hand, collect their cheque, and go home in peace.
Apparently not.
It's embarrassing that a group of grown men and women had to be publicly reprimanded by their governing body for bad behavior.
Over the years, there have been quiet (and not-so-quiet) rumblings about discord within the SRSB, especially at their monthly meetings. Catty remarks, finger-pointing, all-out verbal brawling, hasty departures, name-calling - all in the name of personal agendas, reputations, and egos. Sounds like an episode of Jerry Springer, yet these are the people making decisions about our kids' education, on our behalf. Scary.
And then, to be given "directives" to wise-up, and requesting an extension for time to agree on a promise to behave themselves? Are you kidding me? Too bad if the deadline falls before your scheduled meeting, call another one! If you're given a time frame to make changes and resolve a matter (that shouldn't even have had to be addressed in the first place), can't you make a special effort to gather for an hour and get it resolved in the time given? Shameful.
Finally, in "last straw" news, the motion to adopt the new house rules was passed by a vote of 9-3, meaning three people didn't want to grow up and agree to some level of maturity at all. Add to this the planned motion to abolish the whole code of ethics entirely, and you've got perhaps the most childish, unprofessional School Board in the province. Congratulations.
Time to get a firm grip, SRSB. Years of dissent, bickering, and other assorted bad behavior were bound to backfire on your illustrious gaggle of "professionals" eventually. A public "tsk" probably stings, but at least the Education Department's resident pitbull has given you a chance to redeem yourselves, instead of sending you the way of the Halifax Regional School Board. Consider yourselves lucky, warned, and in need of some serious repair.
Fear not, commoners; I am very aware of the backlash I'm sure I'll receive from those I have called out. To those people, I'll respond in a manor which is in keeping with the maturity level shown by you and your colleagues: "I'm rubber, you're glue......"
How sad that the Minister of Education, Karen Casey, had to lay down the law with her children, the Strait Regional School Board. Those kids are much older than mine, and they should know better.
I would be remiss not to add that, while the majority of instigators have been School Board members for awhile, there are a few new faces who should, perhaps, be excluded from a tongue-lashing like this. I am left to wonder why these folks would jump into such a snakepit, but I am assuming they will act as professionals during their tenure, and I am hopeful that fresh eyes, minds, and attitudes will be beneficial to the students in our area.
Members of the SRSB are elected representatives, which means they are obligated to serve the people. They are also paid representatives, which means they are paid by those same people. I'm sure the taxpayers who furnish those salaries - working mothers, cell center toilers, labourers who work 16-hour days - would all agree that School Board members are compensated handsomely for the work they do. One would think they could behave themselves for long enough to complete the tasks at hand, collect their cheque, and go home in peace.
Apparently not.
It's embarrassing that a group of grown men and women had to be publicly reprimanded by their governing body for bad behavior.
Over the years, there have been quiet (and not-so-quiet) rumblings about discord within the SRSB, especially at their monthly meetings. Catty remarks, finger-pointing, all-out verbal brawling, hasty departures, name-calling - all in the name of personal agendas, reputations, and egos. Sounds like an episode of Jerry Springer, yet these are the people making decisions about our kids' education, on our behalf. Scary.
And then, to be given "directives" to wise-up, and requesting an extension for time to agree on a promise to behave themselves? Are you kidding me? Too bad if the deadline falls before your scheduled meeting, call another one! If you're given a time frame to make changes and resolve a matter (that shouldn't even have had to be addressed in the first place), can't you make a special effort to gather for an hour and get it resolved in the time given? Shameful.
Finally, in "last straw" news, the motion to adopt the new house rules was passed by a vote of 9-3, meaning three people didn't want to grow up and agree to some level of maturity at all. Add to this the planned motion to abolish the whole code of ethics entirely, and you've got perhaps the most childish, unprofessional School Board in the province. Congratulations.
Time to get a firm grip, SRSB. Years of dissent, bickering, and other assorted bad behavior were bound to backfire on your illustrious gaggle of "professionals" eventually. A public "tsk" probably stings, but at least the Education Department's resident pitbull has given you a chance to redeem yourselves, instead of sending you the way of the Halifax Regional School Board. Consider yourselves lucky, warned, and in need of some serious repair.
Fear not, commoners; I am very aware of the backlash I'm sure I'll receive from those I have called out. To those people, I'll respond in a manor which is in keeping with the maturity level shown by you and your colleagues: "I'm rubber, you're glue......"
Tuesday, December 11, 2007
TO ALL THOSE WHO ARE HERE FOR PAULA
As I'm sure many have noticed, many comments about the Paula Gallant blog are no longer visible.
I apologize to everyone who comes on a regular basis to read the comments, as I know it serves as a source of comfort for many people. I would love to be able to provide a place for honest dialogue about this case, and I didn't want to have to discontinue such a passionate discussion, but unfortunately there are legal issues surrounding some of the comments that I have to be weary of. I understand that people are very frustrated at the lack of progress, but speculation has quickly turned into accusations, and this is where the legality of some of the comments gets hazy, especially when it comes to calling people by name. Whether or not I agree with the comments is irrelevant; it's a question of whether I am willing to be held legally responsible for the opinions of others. And as much as I feel passionately about finding the person responsible for Paula's murderer, and helping her family in any way that I can, I have to consider the legal ramifications that are on the horizon.
Up to now, I have approved every single comment, regardless of content. But for the legal reasons stated above, all comments that were accusatory or defamatory in nature have been removed, and I will no longer be able to approve comments of this kind. Comments can still be left, and I hope they are, but I have to ask that people refrain from calling people by name, or by association to the victim, in reference to their possible involvement in the case.
I hope everyone understands my decision, as it was a difficult one to make. Though I have no relation to the Gallant family, I feel a sense of responsibility when it comes to this case, in terms of giving people a place to congregate in Paula's name. I appreciate so many people giving a part of themselves to this website, and I will continue to read every comment that is received, whether I am able to post it or not.
Very sincerely,
Gina
I apologize to everyone who comes on a regular basis to read the comments, as I know it serves as a source of comfort for many people. I would love to be able to provide a place for honest dialogue about this case, and I didn't want to have to discontinue such a passionate discussion, but unfortunately there are legal issues surrounding some of the comments that I have to be weary of. I understand that people are very frustrated at the lack of progress, but speculation has quickly turned into accusations, and this is where the legality of some of the comments gets hazy, especially when it comes to calling people by name. Whether or not I agree with the comments is irrelevant; it's a question of whether I am willing to be held legally responsible for the opinions of others. And as much as I feel passionately about finding the person responsible for Paula's murderer, and helping her family in any way that I can, I have to consider the legal ramifications that are on the horizon.
Up to now, I have approved every single comment, regardless of content. But for the legal reasons stated above, all comments that were accusatory or defamatory in nature have been removed, and I will no longer be able to approve comments of this kind. Comments can still be left, and I hope they are, but I have to ask that people refrain from calling people by name, or by association to the victim, in reference to their possible involvement in the case.
I hope everyone understands my decision, as it was a difficult one to make. Though I have no relation to the Gallant family, I feel a sense of responsibility when it comes to this case, in terms of giving people a place to congregate in Paula's name. I appreciate so many people giving a part of themselves to this website, and I will continue to read every comment that is received, whether I am able to post it or not.
Very sincerely,
Gina
Tuesday, December 4, 2007
Americ-Ann
I received an infuriating email a few weeks ago. It was a YouTube clip of Ann Coulter (and other prominent political commentators) bashing Canada. Not teasing us in a tongue-in-cheek fashion, but really letting us have it. An average American, rambling anti-Canadian sentiment, wouldn't aggravate me to this extent, but Ann Coulter is a different story.
If you're not familiar with Ann Coulter, she's a controversial American media figure, famous for her confrontational debating techniques and staunch, unapologetic Republican views. She prides herself on being an obnoxious bigot, and doesn't pretend to be impartial in any way. Sounds like a delicate little flower, doesn't she? I can't imagine why she's single.
Despite her abrasive nature, this is an educated, intelligent woman. She has plenty of impressive credentials, and she has made many arguments for which she should be positively recognized. At a young age, she aspired to be an influential force in U.S law making and politics. She seemed well on her way, until she started shooting her mouth off.
You see, one day she must have realized that intelligent women are a dime a dozen, and exceptional women are just as plentiful. The subsequent realization that her blonde hair didn't automatically make her attractive, must have led her to formulate this new career strategy: to not bother letting her work speak for itself, and instead opting to create headlines and notoriety by being the rudest, loudest, most inappropriate, unprofessional, big-mouthed know-it-all in recent media history.
Mission accomplished.
Just a few of her most talked-about rants include: accusing a presidential candidate of using the death of his child as a sympathy card to gain votes; blaming a handicapped Vietnam veteran for losing the war; calling 9/11 widows "gold-diggers who are basking in the glory and financial windfall of their husbands' deaths"; describing Jews as "unperfected Christians"; and justifying the discrimination of all Muslims after the 2001 terrorist attacks.
Isn't she just the type of girl you'd want at your dinner party?
And all this is saying nothing of the spanking she gave Canada on CNN's "Crossfire". According to Ms. Coulter, Canada should be thankful that we are "allowed to exist on the same continent as the United States", and that we're lucky the U.S. hasn't "rolled over and crushed us", since all we do is use American power as a shield to hide our military inadequacies.
While I have to admit that our union with the U.S. serves us well in a "younger-brother-of-the-school-bully" kind of way, to say that it is a mutually beneficial relationship is an understatement.I won't even begin to list the important resources (such as power, oil, and lumber....oops, I guess that's considered listing) that Canada provides to their fair country. Instead of preaching to the choir, I'll let the Americans chow down on their Freedom Fries and tease us about igloos and dogsleds, while laughing to myself when one of them can't point to Nova Scotia on a map. Ignorance truly is bliss, and I'm content in knowing that, while Canada is happy, the good ol' United States is absolutely euphoric, if you know what I mean.
So, were it an average New Yorker or Floridian, comments about Canada's perceived uselessness wouldn't bother me. But Ann Coulter, who I had beef with already? Living in a great big glass house, she should be the last one throwing boulders. It wouldn't be an injustice, should she ever cross the border, to see her be handed a strong dose of Canadiana, NHL-bench-brawl style.
I wish I didn't have to loathe her so much, because she has, however seldom, made points I agree with. And there is something to be said of a person with enough courage to defend, to an international audience, their unpopular opinions (at least when that person does so with tact and respect). But a person, whose opinions aren't valuable enough to stand on their own, who resorts to personal attacks, sensationalism, and provocation, in order to steal some airtime on CNN, before their inevitable drift into obscurity? That's pathetic.
Ann can kiss my Maple Leaf, for starters.
If you're not familiar with Ann Coulter, she's a controversial American media figure, famous for her confrontational debating techniques and staunch, unapologetic Republican views. She prides herself on being an obnoxious bigot, and doesn't pretend to be impartial in any way. Sounds like a delicate little flower, doesn't she? I can't imagine why she's single.
Despite her abrasive nature, this is an educated, intelligent woman. She has plenty of impressive credentials, and she has made many arguments for which she should be positively recognized. At a young age, she aspired to be an influential force in U.S law making and politics. She seemed well on her way, until she started shooting her mouth off.
You see, one day she must have realized that intelligent women are a dime a dozen, and exceptional women are just as plentiful. The subsequent realization that her blonde hair didn't automatically make her attractive, must have led her to formulate this new career strategy: to not bother letting her work speak for itself, and instead opting to create headlines and notoriety by being the rudest, loudest, most inappropriate, unprofessional, big-mouthed know-it-all in recent media history.
Mission accomplished.
Just a few of her most talked-about rants include: accusing a presidential candidate of using the death of his child as a sympathy card to gain votes; blaming a handicapped Vietnam veteran for losing the war; calling 9/11 widows "gold-diggers who are basking in the glory and financial windfall of their husbands' deaths"; describing Jews as "unperfected Christians"; and justifying the discrimination of all Muslims after the 2001 terrorist attacks.
Isn't she just the type of girl you'd want at your dinner party?
And all this is saying nothing of the spanking she gave Canada on CNN's "Crossfire". According to Ms. Coulter, Canada should be thankful that we are "allowed to exist on the same continent as the United States", and that we're lucky the U.S. hasn't "rolled over and crushed us", since all we do is use American power as a shield to hide our military inadequacies.
While I have to admit that our union with the U.S. serves us well in a "younger-brother-of-the-school-bully" kind of way, to say that it is a mutually beneficial relationship is an understatement.I won't even begin to list the important resources (such as power, oil, and lumber....oops, I guess that's considered listing) that Canada provides to their fair country. Instead of preaching to the choir, I'll let the Americans chow down on their Freedom Fries and tease us about igloos and dogsleds, while laughing to myself when one of them can't point to Nova Scotia on a map. Ignorance truly is bliss, and I'm content in knowing that, while Canada is happy, the good ol' United States is absolutely euphoric, if you know what I mean.
So, were it an average New Yorker or Floridian, comments about Canada's perceived uselessness wouldn't bother me. But Ann Coulter, who I had beef with already? Living in a great big glass house, she should be the last one throwing boulders. It wouldn't be an injustice, should she ever cross the border, to see her be handed a strong dose of Canadiana, NHL-bench-brawl style.
I wish I didn't have to loathe her so much, because she has, however seldom, made points I agree with. And there is something to be said of a person with enough courage to defend, to an international audience, their unpopular opinions (at least when that person does so with tact and respect). But a person, whose opinions aren't valuable enough to stand on their own, who resorts to personal attacks, sensationalism, and provocation, in order to steal some airtime on CNN, before their inevitable drift into obscurity? That's pathetic.
Ann can kiss my Maple Leaf, for starters.
Tuesday, November 27, 2007
Girlspeak
The universally accepted truth: men and women do not understand each other. We're wired differently. Countless hours and years and lifetimes have been spent trying to figure each other out, to no avail.
Being married, I can discipher a great deal of "male code", but I am in no position to give insight into the mind of someone else's husband. I've got my own live-in male brain to figure out, so ladies, you're on your own. Good luck.
I can, however, throw the guys a bone.
The following is a rough translation of Female English. These translations are approximate, and will vary in detail and intensity from woman to woman.
She says: Nothing is wrong, I'm fine.
She means: There's plenty wrong, I'm anything but fine, and you have about thirty seconds to figure out why and fix it, unless you want my mood to worsen exponentially.
She says: Do you want to watch a movie?
She means: Do you want to watch a movie with characters, a plot, and minimal explosions/gunfighting/female nudity?
She says: Do we have a step ladder?
She means: I'm going to paint the living room tomorrow while you're at work, and even if you don't like the color, it will be too much work for you to change it.
She says: You're blue sweater? It's hanging in your closet, for once.
She means: I found it under the bed, and if you don't start picking up your clothes, I'm going to throw them all away.
She says: Did anyone call while I was out yesterday?
She means: I know Susan called while I was out yesterday, so if you can't take and deliver messages, let the machine pick up.
She says: I don't care, go out tonight if you want to.
She means: I'm not telling you to go out, I'm giving you the opportunity to prefer to stay home with me. I obviously don't want you to go out, and I will make you miserable for days if you do. Choose carefully.
She says: Does this outfit look ok?
She means: I wouldn't be out here modeling for you if I didn't think it looked good, so please tell me it's incredible, or I'll probably tear my closet apart in a rage and end up staying home and pouting all night.
She says: Kate's husband bought her the most beautiful flowers, you should see them, they're blue roses.
She means: I want you to buy me flowers, please. (The "please" part is variable, depending on mood and length of time that has elapsed since she last received a bouquet of flowers)
She says: How was supper?
She means: It took me two hours to cook that, amidst screaming children and chaos, so you'd better say it was delicious or tomorrow we'll be having Kraft Dinner.
She says: Who was that scantily-scad, buxom knock-out you were hugging?
She means: That better have been your long-lost cousin.
She says: I'm going to get my hair done tomorrow.
She means: We'll be $120 poorer tomorrow, and you probably won't even be able to tell what I got done to my hair.
She says: Work was a nightmare today.
She means: I can't wait to tell you the story about the photocopier mishap, how I spilled my coffee, and how Marcy complained about her cramps all day. It's your job to pretend all of this is interesting, the way I do when you talk about power tools being on sale at Canadian Tire.
She says: My friend from high school got engaged.
She means: On July 14th of next year, you'll find yourself wearing uncomfortable clothes and smiling at a room full of people you don't know.
She says: We need to talk.
She means: You need to listen.
Now, in my defense, I do not base these simulated conversations on life experience (well, the majority of them, anyway). My husband doesn't have it nearly that bad, but these examples, however accurate, are an unpleasant reality for many husbands and boyfriends. Take heart, gentlemen; we love you, and we'll go as easy on you as we can. We know you don't understand us but, luckily for you, that doesn't stop us from trying to show you how.
Being married, I can discipher a great deal of "male code", but I am in no position to give insight into the mind of someone else's husband. I've got my own live-in male brain to figure out, so ladies, you're on your own. Good luck.
I can, however, throw the guys a bone.
The following is a rough translation of Female English. These translations are approximate, and will vary in detail and intensity from woman to woman.
She says: Nothing is wrong, I'm fine.
She means: There's plenty wrong, I'm anything but fine, and you have about thirty seconds to figure out why and fix it, unless you want my mood to worsen exponentially.
She says: Do you want to watch a movie?
She means: Do you want to watch a movie with characters, a plot, and minimal explosions/gunfighting/female nudity?
She says: Do we have a step ladder?
She means: I'm going to paint the living room tomorrow while you're at work, and even if you don't like the color, it will be too much work for you to change it.
She says: You're blue sweater? It's hanging in your closet, for once.
She means: I found it under the bed, and if you don't start picking up your clothes, I'm going to throw them all away.
She says: Did anyone call while I was out yesterday?
She means: I know Susan called while I was out yesterday, so if you can't take and deliver messages, let the machine pick up.
She says: I don't care, go out tonight if you want to.
She means: I'm not telling you to go out, I'm giving you the opportunity to prefer to stay home with me. I obviously don't want you to go out, and I will make you miserable for days if you do. Choose carefully.
She says: Does this outfit look ok?
She means: I wouldn't be out here modeling for you if I didn't think it looked good, so please tell me it's incredible, or I'll probably tear my closet apart in a rage and end up staying home and pouting all night.
She says: Kate's husband bought her the most beautiful flowers, you should see them, they're blue roses.
She means: I want you to buy me flowers, please. (The "please" part is variable, depending on mood and length of time that has elapsed since she last received a bouquet of flowers)
She says: How was supper?
She means: It took me two hours to cook that, amidst screaming children and chaos, so you'd better say it was delicious or tomorrow we'll be having Kraft Dinner.
She says: Who was that scantily-scad, buxom knock-out you were hugging?
She means: That better have been your long-lost cousin.
She says: I'm going to get my hair done tomorrow.
She means: We'll be $120 poorer tomorrow, and you probably won't even be able to tell what I got done to my hair.
She says: Work was a nightmare today.
She means: I can't wait to tell you the story about the photocopier mishap, how I spilled my coffee, and how Marcy complained about her cramps all day. It's your job to pretend all of this is interesting, the way I do when you talk about power tools being on sale at Canadian Tire.
She says: My friend from high school got engaged.
She means: On July 14th of next year, you'll find yourself wearing uncomfortable clothes and smiling at a room full of people you don't know.
She says: We need to talk.
She means: You need to listen.
Now, in my defense, I do not base these simulated conversations on life experience (well, the majority of them, anyway). My husband doesn't have it nearly that bad, but these examples, however accurate, are an unpleasant reality for many husbands and boyfriends. Take heart, gentlemen; we love you, and we'll go as easy on you as we can. We know you don't understand us but, luckily for you, that doesn't stop us from trying to show you how.
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
More news!
I haven't been neglecting my blogging duties, I've been holding off on purpose.
I recently got a job with the Cape Breton Post, for whom I'll be writing a twice-weekly column starting next week. Because I'm expected to produce 2 new articles every week from here on in, I've been writing up a storm and storing them all without posting on here. Starting next week, I'll post all the new ones on here the day after they're published.
Also, b/c I'm giving the Post exclusive rights to all my work, I won't be writing for the Reporter anymore. That sucks, b/c I would really like to keep writing for them, especially since lots of ppl from home read that paper on a regular basis. However, that's the business of journalism and publishing I guess, so I'm movin' on up! I hope everyone gets a chance to check out the Post next week!
I recently got a job with the Cape Breton Post, for whom I'll be writing a twice-weekly column starting next week. Because I'm expected to produce 2 new articles every week from here on in, I've been writing up a storm and storing them all without posting on here. Starting next week, I'll post all the new ones on here the day after they're published.
Also, b/c I'm giving the Post exclusive rights to all my work, I won't be writing for the Reporter anymore. That sucks, b/c I would really like to keep writing for them, especially since lots of ppl from home read that paper on a regular basis. However, that's the business of journalism and publishing I guess, so I'm movin' on up! I hope everyone gets a chance to check out the Post next week!
Friday, November 9, 2007
Open Letters
(For Lillian, since I was gone for awhile)
Dear Dr. Phil:
I remember well the first time I saw you speak, it was on the Oprah Show. For Oprah Winfrey to speak to someone's genius is a good enough reason in itself for me to listen to them, and this fact, combined with your accurate assessments of so many neuroses, made me a fan of yours right from the start.
I enjoyed watching a show that dealt with regular people and the psychological and emotional issues they face. The way you broke down and explained relationship dynamics was brilliant, and your "tell them the truth even if it hurts" approach made your show an interesting and honest look at humanity.
So now tell me - what the hell happened?
I first began to smell disaster when you started with the hidden camera thing. Very Maury Pauvich of you. But when I saw the promos for "The Dr. Phil House", I could smell disaster, since the reality TV concept is a pretty desperate move. Still, I chalked it up to the necessary evil of sweeps ratings, and I kept tuning in. It is very unfortunate that things only got worse. I knew the end was near when I heard about your Britney Spears show. As soon as I saw the akin-to-A-Current-Affair-anchor-desk, you had lost me for good. Ads for that show incinuated that you would be talking live to Lynn Spears, her mother, when really you spent three minutes at the end of the program recounting a conversation you had with the elder Spears many years ago. Tsk, tsk, Phil. That's false advertising in my books.
It only went downhill from there, as I have since seen promos for a show about the OJ Simpson book and DNA paternity test results (again, very Maury Pauvich). But the last straw, I'm afraid, was the expose show about "Dog the Bounty Hunter", with special guests Al Sharpton, and the mother of the woman Dog defamed. Classic.
So in closing, I'd just like to express my deepest sympathy over the loss of your dignity and credibility.
And, if I can be so bold, the whole "holding hands with your tranny looking wife as you leave the stage" thing is less than believeable, and appears more like a contractual obligation tailored to uphold your family man image.
Very sincerely, a former fan
Dear Paris Hilton:
You're not fooling anyone with this "save the world" baloney. I realize you have been working tremendously hard on your post-convict image, but you could have just REFRAINED FROM GETTING DRUNK AND FLASHING EVERY 24 HOURS to accomplish that. It's best for all of us if you just cancel your tickets to Rwanda, admit you don't even know how to SPELL it (let alone understand or sympathize with it's problems), and leave the humanitarian schtick to Angelina Jolie and Bono. Nobody is anticipating that you'll change the world; we're all expecting you to buy the world, and then dye it pink. Stick to shopping, half-naked partying, and dressing tiny dogs in tiny dog clothes and expensive jewellery. That would be "hot".
With warm regards, Gina
Dear Celine Dion:
I attended one of your concerts a few years ago, and it was a beautiful show. You have an amazing voice and you deserve every bit of success you have acheived.
However, as much as I hate to be the bearer of bad news, I doubt if the enibriated, head-banging, AC/DC-tshirt-wearing, dope-smoking, mostly-rock-fan ticket holders for the summer '08 concert in Halifax, are going to enjoy your show as much as I did.
Just giving you a head's up. I'd duck if I were you, a water bottle in the cheek is going hurt like a bugger right in the middle of "My Heart Will Go On."
Pulling for you, Gina
Dear Lynn Spears:
It has become apparent that your daughter's escapades have gotten in the way of her keeping up with her correspondence. If she had, she would have read my earlier letter warning her to get her shit together.
In case you're not aware, your beautiful and talented daughter has completely lost her effing mind. I only state the obvious because it appears as though you don't give a hoot one way or the other, and I have to assume her public embarrassment has escaped you somehow.
She lost her kids. What would be the biggest nightmare for any mother on earth, has become cause for Britney to celebrate by chandelier shopping? Cuckoo!!! I repeat, YOUR DAUGHTER'S BEHAVIOR HAS RESULTED IN CHILD SERVICES TAKING HER KIDS. That seldom happens in the real world, so what must conditions have been like for those kids in order for a judge to take them away from one of the biggest celebrities in the world? I shudder to think.
Anyway, it's about time that you grab your frequently and habitually drug-using daughter by that nasty weave of hers, drag her sorry ass back to the bayou in Louisiana, and shake the stupid out of her. Shame on you if you don't. (If you want it done, send her to me, and I'll do it for you.......for a modest fee, of course).
When K-Fed starts looking like Father of the Year, something is terribly, terribly wrong. Make your daughter clean up her act. Her career and her reputation are damaged beyond repair. You're letting her waste her life. What the hell is wrong with you people?
Best of luck, y'all, from Gina
Dear Dr. Phil:
I remember well the first time I saw you speak, it was on the Oprah Show. For Oprah Winfrey to speak to someone's genius is a good enough reason in itself for me to listen to them, and this fact, combined with your accurate assessments of so many neuroses, made me a fan of yours right from the start.
I enjoyed watching a show that dealt with regular people and the psychological and emotional issues they face. The way you broke down and explained relationship dynamics was brilliant, and your "tell them the truth even if it hurts" approach made your show an interesting and honest look at humanity.
So now tell me - what the hell happened?
I first began to smell disaster when you started with the hidden camera thing. Very Maury Pauvich of you. But when I saw the promos for "The Dr. Phil House", I could smell disaster, since the reality TV concept is a pretty desperate move. Still, I chalked it up to the necessary evil of sweeps ratings, and I kept tuning in. It is very unfortunate that things only got worse. I knew the end was near when I heard about your Britney Spears show. As soon as I saw the akin-to-A-Current-Affair-anchor-desk, you had lost me for good. Ads for that show incinuated that you would be talking live to Lynn Spears, her mother, when really you spent three minutes at the end of the program recounting a conversation you had with the elder Spears many years ago. Tsk, tsk, Phil. That's false advertising in my books.
It only went downhill from there, as I have since seen promos for a show about the OJ Simpson book and DNA paternity test results (again, very Maury Pauvich). But the last straw, I'm afraid, was the expose show about "Dog the Bounty Hunter", with special guests Al Sharpton, and the mother of the woman Dog defamed. Classic.
So in closing, I'd just like to express my deepest sympathy over the loss of your dignity and credibility.
And, if I can be so bold, the whole "holding hands with your tranny looking wife as you leave the stage" thing is less than believeable, and appears more like a contractual obligation tailored to uphold your family man image.
Very sincerely, a former fan
Dear Paris Hilton:
You're not fooling anyone with this "save the world" baloney. I realize you have been working tremendously hard on your post-convict image, but you could have just REFRAINED FROM GETTING DRUNK AND FLASHING EVERY 24 HOURS to accomplish that. It's best for all of us if you just cancel your tickets to Rwanda, admit you don't even know how to SPELL it (let alone understand or sympathize with it's problems), and leave the humanitarian schtick to Angelina Jolie and Bono. Nobody is anticipating that you'll change the world; we're all expecting you to buy the world, and then dye it pink. Stick to shopping, half-naked partying, and dressing tiny dogs in tiny dog clothes and expensive jewellery. That would be "hot".
With warm regards, Gina
Dear Celine Dion:
I attended one of your concerts a few years ago, and it was a beautiful show. You have an amazing voice and you deserve every bit of success you have acheived.
However, as much as I hate to be the bearer of bad news, I doubt if the enibriated, head-banging, AC/DC-tshirt-wearing, dope-smoking, mostly-rock-fan ticket holders for the summer '08 concert in Halifax, are going to enjoy your show as much as I did.
Just giving you a head's up. I'd duck if I were you, a water bottle in the cheek is going hurt like a bugger right in the middle of "My Heart Will Go On."
Pulling for you, Gina
Dear Lynn Spears:
It has become apparent that your daughter's escapades have gotten in the way of her keeping up with her correspondence. If she had, she would have read my earlier letter warning her to get her shit together.
In case you're not aware, your beautiful and talented daughter has completely lost her effing mind. I only state the obvious because it appears as though you don't give a hoot one way or the other, and I have to assume her public embarrassment has escaped you somehow.
She lost her kids. What would be the biggest nightmare for any mother on earth, has become cause for Britney to celebrate by chandelier shopping? Cuckoo!!! I repeat, YOUR DAUGHTER'S BEHAVIOR HAS RESULTED IN CHILD SERVICES TAKING HER KIDS. That seldom happens in the real world, so what must conditions have been like for those kids in order for a judge to take them away from one of the biggest celebrities in the world? I shudder to think.
Anyway, it's about time that you grab your frequently and habitually drug-using daughter by that nasty weave of hers, drag her sorry ass back to the bayou in Louisiana, and shake the stupid out of her. Shame on you if you don't. (If you want it done, send her to me, and I'll do it for you.......for a modest fee, of course).
When K-Fed starts looking like Father of the Year, something is terribly, terribly wrong. Make your daughter clean up her act. Her career and her reputation are damaged beyond repair. You're letting her waste her life. What the hell is wrong with you people?
Best of luck, y'all, from Gina
Thursday, November 8, 2007
"Those Flower Pins"
I got my Remembrance Day poppy a few days ago. There was an older man, dressed in a Legion uniform, giving them out at the grocery store, and he smiled at me when I put a few dollars in his container.
When I was young, Remembrance Day was the day for which we had a big assembly in school. The day our teacher would hand out poppies after lunch. The day men in uniforms would come to our school, show us all their medals, and give a sad speech. The day one student got picked to go lay a wreath at the front of the gymnasium. Once the assembly was over, we went home, had a day off school, and then it was back to business as usual.
Even as I got older, war was just something I studied in Terry Clements' history class. My grandfather was enlisted in World War 2, though, being in communications in Halifax, he was never deployed overseas, so I didn't hear any horror stories. A friend of mine served in Rwanda, but he came home years ago, and without a visible scratch. Like so many others, because my life was never really impacted by war, I viewed war as something that happened long before my time.
As I was putting on my poppy, a little girl behind me asked her mother what "those flower pins" were for, and the lady replied, "to remember the all men and women who died in the war a long time ago." Unfortunately, she's only somewhat correct about the "long time ago" part.
Today we live in a different world. War is no longer something that took place 75 years ago, that we study in history class. It's happening right now.
You don't have to be in support of any current war to be in support of the people who are fighting in it. I'll leave my opinions of George W. Bush and the wars in the Middle East for another day, but I can tell you with certainty that, in no way does my opposition of the "War on Terror" compromise my high regard for the courageous people who risk their lives over there. I think it's a shame that men and women, young and old, have put their faith and trust in leaders who, with ulterior motives, lie their country into war and conflict. But history will show, those leaders will be looked down upon, and not those who followed them.
All over Nova Scotia, on November 11th (and every other day), people will be remembering their recently lost loved ones, and praying for their family members who are fighting abroad as we speak. Maybe also for their great-great-grandfather, who was lost in World War 1, or their mother's uncle who died in World War 2, or their neighbor's late husband who died in Vietnam, but also, and perhaps more immediately, for those soldiers at war right now. The 35-year-old fathers from Greenwood who have left a wife and two small children behind. The 43-year-old brothers from River Bourgeois who have been in Afghanistan for five years. The 29-year-old daughters from Sydney who have spent most of their adult lives in the Middle East. The husbands, sons, fathers, brothers, wives, mothers, daughters, sisters, and friends of people all over our region. War is more than ancient history, it's reality.
This is to take nothing away from the Veterans of WW1 and WW2. These brave men and women did the same kind of fighting that we see on the news every night, and should always be revered and honored, regardless of how long ago it was. When I see a smiling Veteran, handing out poppies at the grocery store, I often think he must be shaking his head at our obliviousness. Everything he went through, the sacrifices he made, the victory he helped win - and some little punk casually leaves a quarter in his jar, grabs a poppy, and walks away. I think we should all make it a point to acknowledge those Legionnaires, out of respect. Say hello. Smile. Talk to them. It doesn't hurt, I promise. Were it not for them, we might not be out buying groceries, we might be chowing down on rations of Hiltler Sticks and Nazi Nuggets.
Remembrance Day is more than just a holiday, a long weekend, a day off work. It's a time for us to contemplate how lucky we are, to honour those who weren't so lucky, and to acknowledge those who have to pray for luck and survival every day. It's so easy for us to forget, but on November 11th, it's our job to Remember.
When I was young, Remembrance Day was the day for which we had a big assembly in school. The day our teacher would hand out poppies after lunch. The day men in uniforms would come to our school, show us all their medals, and give a sad speech. The day one student got picked to go lay a wreath at the front of the gymnasium. Once the assembly was over, we went home, had a day off school, and then it was back to business as usual.
Even as I got older, war was just something I studied in Terry Clements' history class. My grandfather was enlisted in World War 2, though, being in communications in Halifax, he was never deployed overseas, so I didn't hear any horror stories. A friend of mine served in Rwanda, but he came home years ago, and without a visible scratch. Like so many others, because my life was never really impacted by war, I viewed war as something that happened long before my time.
As I was putting on my poppy, a little girl behind me asked her mother what "those flower pins" were for, and the lady replied, "to remember the all men and women who died in the war a long time ago." Unfortunately, she's only somewhat correct about the "long time ago" part.
Today we live in a different world. War is no longer something that took place 75 years ago, that we study in history class. It's happening right now.
You don't have to be in support of any current war to be in support of the people who are fighting in it. I'll leave my opinions of George W. Bush and the wars in the Middle East for another day, but I can tell you with certainty that, in no way does my opposition of the "War on Terror" compromise my high regard for the courageous people who risk their lives over there. I think it's a shame that men and women, young and old, have put their faith and trust in leaders who, with ulterior motives, lie their country into war and conflict. But history will show, those leaders will be looked down upon, and not those who followed them.
All over Nova Scotia, on November 11th (and every other day), people will be remembering their recently lost loved ones, and praying for their family members who are fighting abroad as we speak. Maybe also for their great-great-grandfather, who was lost in World War 1, or their mother's uncle who died in World War 2, or their neighbor's late husband who died in Vietnam, but also, and perhaps more immediately, for those soldiers at war right now. The 35-year-old fathers from Greenwood who have left a wife and two small children behind. The 43-year-old brothers from River Bourgeois who have been in Afghanistan for five years. The 29-year-old daughters from Sydney who have spent most of their adult lives in the Middle East. The husbands, sons, fathers, brothers, wives, mothers, daughters, sisters, and friends of people all over our region. War is more than ancient history, it's reality.
This is to take nothing away from the Veterans of WW1 and WW2. These brave men and women did the same kind of fighting that we see on the news every night, and should always be revered and honored, regardless of how long ago it was. When I see a smiling Veteran, handing out poppies at the grocery store, I often think he must be shaking his head at our obliviousness. Everything he went through, the sacrifices he made, the victory he helped win - and some little punk casually leaves a quarter in his jar, grabs a poppy, and walks away. I think we should all make it a point to acknowledge those Legionnaires, out of respect. Say hello. Smile. Talk to them. It doesn't hurt, I promise. Were it not for them, we might not be out buying groceries, we might be chowing down on rations of Hiltler Sticks and Nazi Nuggets.
Remembrance Day is more than just a holiday, a long weekend, a day off work. It's a time for us to contemplate how lucky we are, to honour those who weren't so lucky, and to acknowledge those who have to pray for luck and survival every day. It's so easy for us to forget, but on November 11th, it's our job to Remember.
Sunday, October 28, 2007
Close Call
There are some things I'll write about for the paper, and some things I won't. The good thing about this blog is that I can say WHATEVER I WANT, and I don't have to worry about accusations of slander or libel, or journalistic integrity. I can even curse if I want to.
This week, I submitted an article to the paper that I have already posted on this blog. Since that would mean "no new blog for at least another week and a half" according to my publish-then-post plan, I wanted to write about something that has come up in conversation over the past week, that I don't plan on publishing in the paper.
A few years ago, while we were living in Timberlea, we had an "incident" take place. I hesitate to call it an attempted abduction, but you can decide for yourselves.
Nick has always been pretty street smart - maybe a little paranoid even. He's suspicious of every adult he sees, and even goes as far as to tell me from time to time that "there was this creepy guy who was looking at me in the car while you were in the store, so I locked the doors." We've spoken to him countless times about "stranger danger", especially considering we lived in the city for awhile.
Nick was 8, and he was only allowed to play on our street. This usually suited him just fine, since most of his friends lived a few houses away and they, too, were not allowed to leave the street. This way, your kid was always somewhere that was visible to either Mom & Dad, or one of their adult neighbors. We usually didn't worry too much, even when he wasn't right in front of our house.
We lived in a very quiet subdivision, on probably the quietest street in that subdivision. Our street wasn't a main thoroughfare. In a nutshell, unless you were driving onto Wedgewood Avenue to visit someone who lived there, there wasn't much traffic, since it wasn't a main road.
One day we were on our way into Bayer's Lake, myself, Joey & Rory. Nick was already playing up the street, so we were getting our things together and planned to flag him down once we got outside.
We got down to the car, and one of our neighbors approached us, with her hand on Nick's shoulder. He looked upset, and my first thought was that he had gotten in trouble for something. She launched into a story that made the hair on my neck stand up.
This neighbor (we'll call her Judy) had been weeding her garden behind a hedge right across the street from our house. Her position in the garden kept her hidden from traffic on the road, even though she was mere feet from it. She told us she had seen Nick walking toward home from up the street, when a vehicle approached him and stopped right in front of him. Being a mother to a young boy herself, she wanted to make sure this was someone Nick knew, so she listened in.
She said she knew right away that something was wrong. The car, a burgundy Rav-4 type vehicle, was occupied by two women. The driver was in her mid-40s, and the passenger was a few years younger, by Judy's estimation. They started asking Nick all sorts of questions, such as where he lived, if his parents were home, and if they expected him home soon. Seeing women in the car must not have triggered any alarm for Nick, as I imagine he thought of "strangers" as men, and he began talking back to them.
Judy said the questions were giving her cause for suspicion, and when she heard, "Do you need a ride....", she stood up, making herself clearly visible to the women in the car, and asking Nick if everything was OK. Judy said the woman tramped on the gas, quealing the tires as they took off. Luckily, she had the presence of mind to memorize the license plate number.
Needless to say, her recounting of this story made us panic, and we immediately called the police. We gave them a vehicle discription, including color and assumed make & model, a description of the women, including ages and appearance, and we told them what Judy had witnessed and heard. They told us they would look into it and call us back.
After a few hours, we received a call back from the RCMP. They told us they had run the plate number, which was registered to a burgundy Rav-4. It belonged to a woman who lived in another Timberlea subdivision not far from ours. They had gone to her house, and they told us the woman matched the description we had given them. So far, so good. "She said she wasn't on your street at all today, she had no idea what we were talking about," the cop told us. We thought that was pretty funny. Caught in the act, and denying everything. Are the police ever going to lay it on her, we thought. But then it all went downhill. "So I the matter won't go any further, she said she wasn't even there." Those were the next words out of the cop's mouth. What? What do you mean? She said she wasn't there, but we all know she was! We had her license plate number! We were incredulous.
Let me break it down for you, as I did VERY CRANKILY to the unlucky RCMP officer who was handed this matter.
A woman approaches a strange young boy on the street in her car, something I would never do for fear of scaring the kid or alarming the neighbors. She starts asking him inappropriate questions. She comes within one syllable of offering him a ride, when he had just told her his house was right up the street. A reliable adult witnessed the entire exchange. At the first sight of this adult, the woman speeds off in her car. If her intentions were pure, assuming she needed directions or something, she would have acknowledged the adult with a positive reaction. When this woman is found by police, even though her, her vehicle, and her license plate match the descriptions given by an adult witness, she denies even being in the area.
And the cops just take her word for it and move on? I DON'T THINK SO.
I almost feel sorry for that officer who had to deal with me over the coming days and weeks. I did so much yelling and screaming and arguing and fussing and reasoning and explaning, that I thought I would lose my mind. I didn't get any kind of rational response. I even called the staff sergeant to complain and to have someone different put on the case. I was told that it wasn't even a case; it was a complaint that had been dealt with and resolved.
Oh really? Well, what was the resolution? This was the explanation I was given.
Because the police hadn't witnessed this occur, it was our word against hers.
Because our neighbor hadn't written down the license plate number, there was room for error. The chance existed that another woman meeting her description was in our neighborhood, driving an identical burgundy Rav-4, bearing a license plate just one number or letter off from the one Judy remembered. (WTF is this, "My Cousin Vinny"???) After all, she said it wasn't her. And they have no reason to believe she's lying. (Really? None???)
Because she hadn't committed a crime, there wasn't anything the police could or would do about the situation anyway, even if she WAS lying and she DID attempt to take our son. There's no crime in an adult approaching a child in their vehicle and asking the child if they want a ride to their house (which was about 300 feet away).
Now, would you be satisfied with that explanation?
I WAS NOT.
So I gave the police this analogy.
What if a guy walked into a bank wearing a ski mask. He walked up to the teller and started asking her how much money was in the safe, how many security guards were on duty, and then said "put your hands..." - only then to be interrupted by a security guard asking what was going on. The man runs away, and hops into his car, but not before the security guard makes mental note of his license plate. The cops are called and given a description of man, the vehicle, the plate number, and the details of his suspicious visit. But when the cops visit the suspect's house, he denies being anywhere near the bank, even though the plate number matched, as did the description of the car, the description of him, and his house was a block from the bank. Do you think that cops would just say, "Oh, ok....must have been a mistake." NO, THEY WOULDN'T. THEY'D ARREST HIM UNDER SUSPICION OF ATTEMPTED ROBBERY.
But how is my situation any different? Sure, she may not have snatched my child from off the street, but what would have happened if Judy hadn't been there? Why did she stop to talk to Nick in the first place? Why did she panic and bolt when she saw an adult? And if her intentions weren't evil, WHY DID SHE DENY THE WHOLE THING? If I had caused a scare like this to some poor child and his family, I would fess up immediately and apologize. ONLY IF I WERE TRYING TO HIDE SOMETHING WOULD I HAVE THE GALL TO LIE TO THE POLICE, KNOWING THE WHOLE THING HAD BEEN WITNESSED.
I was so mad, SOOOOOOO MAD, that I didn't know what to do with myself. Then, as luck would have it, one cop I spoke to accidently let it slip what subdivision this woman lived in. BINGO! Perfect, I thought. I drove around that subdivision until I found the car. If the cops won't do anything about it, I will, I had decided. I'll go to her house, pound the shit out of her, threaten to kill her if I ever see her on my street again, and then leave. When the cops come asking me about it, I'll just say it wasn't me, tit for tat.
As luck would have it, I have people around me who can be more sensible than myself in the face of chaos and anger. After much discussion, Joey convinced me that beating this women to within an inch of her life probably wasn't such a good idea, and it certainly wouldn't help matters any.
(G: Yes it would Joey, she wouldn't be physically able to drive, AND I'd scare her so bad she'd be too paranoid to pull a stunt like this again.
J: Gina.
G: But Joey she deserves something, she can't just get away with it!
J: Gina.
G: You can't stop me, I'm going to do it whether you want me to or not!
J: Gina!
G: But it would make me feel so much better!
J: Gina, come on......
You get the point.)
All Joey's convincing still didn't stop me from driving by her house 600 times, waiting for her to walk out so I could "accidentally" speed up and run her ass over.
Anyway, you get the point. I was pissed and scared, but mostly pissed, at her and at the cops. We moved from Timberlea shortly after that.
What do you think? Does this sound a little fishy to you? I often wonder if it's just the ovverreation of a paranoid mother. But usually I just consider it an injustice.
This week, I submitted an article to the paper that I have already posted on this blog. Since that would mean "no new blog for at least another week and a half" according to my publish-then-post plan, I wanted to write about something that has come up in conversation over the past week, that I don't plan on publishing in the paper.
A few years ago, while we were living in Timberlea, we had an "incident" take place. I hesitate to call it an attempted abduction, but you can decide for yourselves.
Nick has always been pretty street smart - maybe a little paranoid even. He's suspicious of every adult he sees, and even goes as far as to tell me from time to time that "there was this creepy guy who was looking at me in the car while you were in the store, so I locked the doors." We've spoken to him countless times about "stranger danger", especially considering we lived in the city for awhile.
Nick was 8, and he was only allowed to play on our street. This usually suited him just fine, since most of his friends lived a few houses away and they, too, were not allowed to leave the street. This way, your kid was always somewhere that was visible to either Mom & Dad, or one of their adult neighbors. We usually didn't worry too much, even when he wasn't right in front of our house.
We lived in a very quiet subdivision, on probably the quietest street in that subdivision. Our street wasn't a main thoroughfare. In a nutshell, unless you were driving onto Wedgewood Avenue to visit someone who lived there, there wasn't much traffic, since it wasn't a main road.
One day we were on our way into Bayer's Lake, myself, Joey & Rory. Nick was already playing up the street, so we were getting our things together and planned to flag him down once we got outside.
We got down to the car, and one of our neighbors approached us, with her hand on Nick's shoulder. He looked upset, and my first thought was that he had gotten in trouble for something. She launched into a story that made the hair on my neck stand up.
This neighbor (we'll call her Judy) had been weeding her garden behind a hedge right across the street from our house. Her position in the garden kept her hidden from traffic on the road, even though she was mere feet from it. She told us she had seen Nick walking toward home from up the street, when a vehicle approached him and stopped right in front of him. Being a mother to a young boy herself, she wanted to make sure this was someone Nick knew, so she listened in.
She said she knew right away that something was wrong. The car, a burgundy Rav-4 type vehicle, was occupied by two women. The driver was in her mid-40s, and the passenger was a few years younger, by Judy's estimation. They started asking Nick all sorts of questions, such as where he lived, if his parents were home, and if they expected him home soon. Seeing women in the car must not have triggered any alarm for Nick, as I imagine he thought of "strangers" as men, and he began talking back to them.
Judy said the questions were giving her cause for suspicion, and when she heard, "Do you need a ride....", she stood up, making herself clearly visible to the women in the car, and asking Nick if everything was OK. Judy said the woman tramped on the gas, quealing the tires as they took off. Luckily, she had the presence of mind to memorize the license plate number.
Needless to say, her recounting of this story made us panic, and we immediately called the police. We gave them a vehicle discription, including color and assumed make & model, a description of the women, including ages and appearance, and we told them what Judy had witnessed and heard. They told us they would look into it and call us back.
After a few hours, we received a call back from the RCMP. They told us they had run the plate number, which was registered to a burgundy Rav-4. It belonged to a woman who lived in another Timberlea subdivision not far from ours. They had gone to her house, and they told us the woman matched the description we had given them. So far, so good. "She said she wasn't on your street at all today, she had no idea what we were talking about," the cop told us. We thought that was pretty funny. Caught in the act, and denying everything. Are the police ever going to lay it on her, we thought. But then it all went downhill. "So I the matter won't go any further, she said she wasn't even there." Those were the next words out of the cop's mouth. What? What do you mean? She said she wasn't there, but we all know she was! We had her license plate number! We were incredulous.
Let me break it down for you, as I did VERY CRANKILY to the unlucky RCMP officer who was handed this matter.
A woman approaches a strange young boy on the street in her car, something I would never do for fear of scaring the kid or alarming the neighbors. She starts asking him inappropriate questions. She comes within one syllable of offering him a ride, when he had just told her his house was right up the street. A reliable adult witnessed the entire exchange. At the first sight of this adult, the woman speeds off in her car. If her intentions were pure, assuming she needed directions or something, she would have acknowledged the adult with a positive reaction. When this woman is found by police, even though her, her vehicle, and her license plate match the descriptions given by an adult witness, she denies even being in the area.
And the cops just take her word for it and move on? I DON'T THINK SO.
I almost feel sorry for that officer who had to deal with me over the coming days and weeks. I did so much yelling and screaming and arguing and fussing and reasoning and explaning, that I thought I would lose my mind. I didn't get any kind of rational response. I even called the staff sergeant to complain and to have someone different put on the case. I was told that it wasn't even a case; it was a complaint that had been dealt with and resolved.
Oh really? Well, what was the resolution? This was the explanation I was given.
Because the police hadn't witnessed this occur, it was our word against hers.
Because our neighbor hadn't written down the license plate number, there was room for error. The chance existed that another woman meeting her description was in our neighborhood, driving an identical burgundy Rav-4, bearing a license plate just one number or letter off from the one Judy remembered. (WTF is this, "My Cousin Vinny"???) After all, she said it wasn't her. And they have no reason to believe she's lying. (Really? None???)
Because she hadn't committed a crime, there wasn't anything the police could or would do about the situation anyway, even if she WAS lying and she DID attempt to take our son. There's no crime in an adult approaching a child in their vehicle and asking the child if they want a ride to their house (which was about 300 feet away).
Now, would you be satisfied with that explanation?
I WAS NOT.
So I gave the police this analogy.
What if a guy walked into a bank wearing a ski mask. He walked up to the teller and started asking her how much money was in the safe, how many security guards were on duty, and then said "put your hands..." - only then to be interrupted by a security guard asking what was going on. The man runs away, and hops into his car, but not before the security guard makes mental note of his license plate. The cops are called and given a description of man, the vehicle, the plate number, and the details of his suspicious visit. But when the cops visit the suspect's house, he denies being anywhere near the bank, even though the plate number matched, as did the description of the car, the description of him, and his house was a block from the bank. Do you think that cops would just say, "Oh, ok....must have been a mistake." NO, THEY WOULDN'T. THEY'D ARREST HIM UNDER SUSPICION OF ATTEMPTED ROBBERY.
But how is my situation any different? Sure, she may not have snatched my child from off the street, but what would have happened if Judy hadn't been there? Why did she stop to talk to Nick in the first place? Why did she panic and bolt when she saw an adult? And if her intentions weren't evil, WHY DID SHE DENY THE WHOLE THING? If I had caused a scare like this to some poor child and his family, I would fess up immediately and apologize. ONLY IF I WERE TRYING TO HIDE SOMETHING WOULD I HAVE THE GALL TO LIE TO THE POLICE, KNOWING THE WHOLE THING HAD BEEN WITNESSED.
I was so mad, SOOOOOOO MAD, that I didn't know what to do with myself. Then, as luck would have it, one cop I spoke to accidently let it slip what subdivision this woman lived in. BINGO! Perfect, I thought. I drove around that subdivision until I found the car. If the cops won't do anything about it, I will, I had decided. I'll go to her house, pound the shit out of her, threaten to kill her if I ever see her on my street again, and then leave. When the cops come asking me about it, I'll just say it wasn't me, tit for tat.
As luck would have it, I have people around me who can be more sensible than myself in the face of chaos and anger. After much discussion, Joey convinced me that beating this women to within an inch of her life probably wasn't such a good idea, and it certainly wouldn't help matters any.
(G: Yes it would Joey, she wouldn't be physically able to drive, AND I'd scare her so bad she'd be too paranoid to pull a stunt like this again.
J: Gina.
G: But Joey she deserves something, she can't just get away with it!
J: Gina.
G: You can't stop me, I'm going to do it whether you want me to or not!
J: Gina!
G: But it would make me feel so much better!
J: Gina, come on......
You get the point.)
All Joey's convincing still didn't stop me from driving by her house 600 times, waiting for her to walk out so I could "accidentally" speed up and run her ass over.
Anyway, you get the point. I was pissed and scared, but mostly pissed, at her and at the cops. We moved from Timberlea shortly after that.
What do you think? Does this sound a little fishy to you? I often wonder if it's just the ovverreation of a paranoid mother. But usually I just consider it an injustice.
Wednesday, October 17, 2007
In Other Exciting News...
Big news for me! Starting next week (Wed., Oct.25), I'll have a weekly column in The Reporter, the local newspaper here in the Strait area. It's going to have the same content as my blog, so for those of you who come here on a regular basis, you can now see the column in print. From now on, since the paper comes out on Wednesday, I'm going to be posting here on Thursdays. I'm taking this week off since I have to write an introductory article for my first column, but I'll be back in business next week.
Kiss my rosy red rump, Kings College of Journalism.
Kiss my rosy red rump, Kings College of Journalism.
Thursday, October 11, 2007
The Devil Wears Puma
I've never been a big fan of "The View". A bunch of female know-it-alls, celebrity big-mouths, nosy windbags, all talking over each other in a mass frenzy, making a TV show that sounds like Friday night bingo at the St. Peter's Lion's Hall. Too much noise for Tuesday at noon, thank you very much. Still, when I occasionally get a break from Treehouse, I sometimes tune in (for lack of any alternative).
"The View" has played a merciless game of musical chairs with it's hosts, and has changed the lineup of "regular members" more often than Destiny's Child. The original cast was tolerable-ish, with their various Master's degrees, at least demonstrating maturity, professionalism, and restraint most of the time. Unfortunately, that changed seasons ago, when ABC started thinning the herd of intelligent people and replacing them with morons.
Case in point: Barbara Walters, in her infinite genius, hired Elisabeth Hasselbeck.
Maybe she seemed harmless in an intellectually-useless kind of way. After all, when she started her stint on "The View", she openly admitted to being uninformed about politics, and just generally naive and inexperienced in life. She probably served as a great ratings-magnet; a pretty young girl from a popular TV show, yahoo! Whatever the reasoning, there she sits, and therein lies the problem.
I can't say with certainty, but in my opinion, there is good reason to believe that Elisabeth Hasselbeck is the stupidest, most ignorant person alive.
I haven't decided if her harping and ranting is the most annoying and mindless noise pollution ever recorded, or if it is perhaps the finest comedy on daytime television. A bad case of foot-in-mouth disease at best. Rosie was obnoxious, but at least she made valid points that she could back up with facts. Elisabeth, whose impeccable credentials include a season on the most contrived reality show in history (where she came 4th), a degree in Fine Arts (majoring in "large paintings"...WTF?? That's a major???), and designing sneakers for Puma, has suddenly become the voice of a nation? An expert in governmental affairs, ethics, and foreign policy? LMAO...I don't think so, dear. A few months in the wilderness without shaving your legs and judging the Miss Teen USA pageant only makes you an expert in irrelevance.
Here's just one example of her rationale, my personal favorite little nugget of wisdom from the incomparable Mrs. Einstein herself: On the topic of lowering the legal drinking age from 21 to 18, Elisabeth disagrees with the idea, but thinks the law should allow 18-year-old soldiers returning from Iraq to drink at their leisure. Also, while they're at it, the government should design a program to wean high school students into drinking, so that they can properly gauge their alcohol tolerance when they go to college. (LMAO....I'd love to see that law pass on the floor of the House. The Hasselbeck/Yale/Lohan Mandatory Underage Alcohol Consumption Bill For The Success and Betterment Of University Binge Drinking.)
As a far-right-leaning, very conservative Republican, she opposes gun control, ending the war, the morning after pill, and most other Democratic ideals. Her position on those topics should be respected and heard, but not shoved down the throats of other hosts, guests, and viewers alike. Her maniacal defense of George W. Bush comes off like a student defending her father the Principal. (Could she be the love child of GWB and...let's see...possibly Farrah Fawcett?!?! That would explain so much....) It almost seems as if she's been so brainwashed by Republican propaganda, that she's about to start her own church or something. The Church of Bush. (Hey, that would make a pretty good skit for Saturday Night Live, EH starting a church dedicated to the teachings of GWB, not unlike Tom Cruise and his Scientology bull&%$#......sorry, I digress....)Anyway, the bottom line is, it's fine to have strong opinions, but it's unprofessional to be rude and catty to people who disagree with you, as is so often the case on "The View" when Elisabeth opens her pie hole.
And I'm not alone in my judgement of this chick. The website www.fireelisabethhasselbeck.com has a mission statement, a petition, and a purpose.
As a disclaimer in my own defense, for people who might say this is a case of the pot calling the kettle black, I am very aware of my lack of knowledge on many (most?lol) topics, and I can admit that. I don't pretend to know it all, and I don't subject millions of people to my self-righteous bickering on national TV five days a week. (Only online in this blog occasionally....)
I'm not sure how to end this rant. I'd love to put something witty and catchy and humorous, but those characteristics aren't in keeping with the Elisabeth Hasselbeck theme. So I guess I'll just say, I think she may be the devil, which means apparently the devil doesn't wear Prada after all. She wears Puma.
"The View" has played a merciless game of musical chairs with it's hosts, and has changed the lineup of "regular members" more often than Destiny's Child. The original cast was tolerable-ish, with their various Master's degrees, at least demonstrating maturity, professionalism, and restraint most of the time. Unfortunately, that changed seasons ago, when ABC started thinning the herd of intelligent people and replacing them with morons.
Case in point: Barbara Walters, in her infinite genius, hired Elisabeth Hasselbeck.
Maybe she seemed harmless in an intellectually-useless kind of way. After all, when she started her stint on "The View", she openly admitted to being uninformed about politics, and just generally naive and inexperienced in life. She probably served as a great ratings-magnet; a pretty young girl from a popular TV show, yahoo! Whatever the reasoning, there she sits, and therein lies the problem.
I can't say with certainty, but in my opinion, there is good reason to believe that Elisabeth Hasselbeck is the stupidest, most ignorant person alive.
I haven't decided if her harping and ranting is the most annoying and mindless noise pollution ever recorded, or if it is perhaps the finest comedy on daytime television. A bad case of foot-in-mouth disease at best. Rosie was obnoxious, but at least she made valid points that she could back up with facts. Elisabeth, whose impeccable credentials include a season on the most contrived reality show in history (where she came 4th), a degree in Fine Arts (majoring in "large paintings"...WTF?? That's a major???), and designing sneakers for Puma, has suddenly become the voice of a nation? An expert in governmental affairs, ethics, and foreign policy? LMAO...I don't think so, dear. A few months in the wilderness without shaving your legs and judging the Miss Teen USA pageant only makes you an expert in irrelevance.
Here's just one example of her rationale, my personal favorite little nugget of wisdom from the incomparable Mrs. Einstein herself: On the topic of lowering the legal drinking age from 21 to 18, Elisabeth disagrees with the idea, but thinks the law should allow 18-year-old soldiers returning from Iraq to drink at their leisure. Also, while they're at it, the government should design a program to wean high school students into drinking, so that they can properly gauge their alcohol tolerance when they go to college. (LMAO....I'd love to see that law pass on the floor of the House. The Hasselbeck/Yale/Lohan Mandatory Underage Alcohol Consumption Bill For The Success and Betterment Of University Binge Drinking.)
As a far-right-leaning, very conservative Republican, she opposes gun control, ending the war, the morning after pill, and most other Democratic ideals. Her position on those topics should be respected and heard, but not shoved down the throats of other hosts, guests, and viewers alike. Her maniacal defense of George W. Bush comes off like a student defending her father the Principal. (Could she be the love child of GWB and...let's see...possibly Farrah Fawcett?!?! That would explain so much....) It almost seems as if she's been so brainwashed by Republican propaganda, that she's about to start her own church or something. The Church of Bush. (Hey, that would make a pretty good skit for Saturday Night Live, EH starting a church dedicated to the teachings of GWB, not unlike Tom Cruise and his Scientology bull&%$#......sorry, I digress....)Anyway, the bottom line is, it's fine to have strong opinions, but it's unprofessional to be rude and catty to people who disagree with you, as is so often the case on "The View" when Elisabeth opens her pie hole.
And I'm not alone in my judgement of this chick. The website www.fireelisabethhasselbeck.com has a mission statement, a petition, and a purpose.
As a disclaimer in my own defense, for people who might say this is a case of the pot calling the kettle black, I am very aware of my lack of knowledge on many (most?lol) topics, and I can admit that. I don't pretend to know it all, and I don't subject millions of people to my self-righteous bickering on national TV five days a week. (Only online in this blog occasionally....)
I'm not sure how to end this rant. I'd love to put something witty and catchy and humorous, but those characteristics aren't in keeping with the Elisabeth Hasselbeck theme. So I guess I'll just say, I think she may be the devil, which means apparently the devil doesn't wear Prada after all. She wears Puma.
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
"Thank You Dan Rather"
As you may or may not know, Dan Rather is suing CBS. I agree that it's about time that the media be held accountable for the "stories" they are passing off as "news", and Dan Rather's lawsuit is a representation of that ideal. I planned on writing something about the sad state of international media today, but this journalist, Leslie Griffith, has done a much better job than I would have. You'll thank yourself, and Dan Rather, after you read this.
THANK YOU DAN RATHER
Thank you Dan Rather. It's balls to the wall time, and as a fellow Texan, you sure came through.
As an investigative journalist who worked as both a reporter and anchor for the San Francisco Bay Area's highest rated newscast for 22 years, I can only say what happened to you nationally was also happening locally. You were told to conform to a Republican agenda or shut up. When you refused to march in step, you got Bush-whacked.
I read your brief and I know the drill. The erosion was slow and many of us barely noticed the small chiseling away of who and what we once were. Anchors and reporters depend on high ratings. If ratings fall in television, people get fired. In the months following 9/11, the President's approval rating was 86 percent, and that's when many in commercial journalism lost their way. To disagree or even ask a disagreeable question regarding the President and his decisions was interpreted as disloyal by many media corporations.
But now we have learned. Get the trashcan ready to catch the chips, because the chisel is swinging back the other way and we as journalists are about to regain our voices and America's trust. Dan - the Man - as we call him in Texas is reminding the media conglomerates how it is supposed to work. News and those who report it are not supposed to be for sale. Dan remembers, and he's about to explain it to us on a national scale, but first some explanations from my field of vision as to how we got here.
On January 2003, President Bush delivered his State of the Union address. Osama bin Laden turned into Saddam Hussein, and Afghanistan turned into Iraq. The press knew this was a bait and switch, but fearing reporters and anchors might appear unpatriotic, the corporate media made it clear that even if George W. Bush played twister in the nude while a few sheets to the wind instead of going to constitutional law classes at Yale, we were not allowed to talk about it.
Viacom and CBS, according to Dan, wanted to curry favor with the White House. There are very few media conglomerates that didn't. Cox Broadcasting banned the Dixie Chicks from radio stations because their lead singer made a remark under her breath criticizing the president! Not wanting to appear unpatriotic, the town criers did not cry out. Many corporate media reporters became stenographers, not reporters on that State of the Union day. Those in television journalism, particularly those working for a Fox affiliate, were not allowed to ask questions that could be perceived as unpatriotic, and every question was seen as unpatriotic. Monarchs and dictators don't allow questions. They also destroy those who speak ill of them. "Scooter - Valerie." "Rove - Anyone." Blackwater was running around in the name of the United States shooting first and asking questions later like third world rebels, and back at home, Fox became the fastest growing network with fearless leaders who believed in not only reporting the news but spinning it as well.
Just seven years ago, I looked up from my desk and saw my image on the MacNeil-Lehrer NewsHour as our staff of independent journalists was described as the best local news in the country. But war broke out and the Internet took off and all over the country local news ratings dropped as viewers turned to the national networks for news from the war fronts. Contrary to all logical thinking, local reporters looked at their retirement plans and their kids in college and promptly puckered their lips on the behinds of corporate media and smooched. If my kids were still in college I would not have the courage to write this now. In response to fewer viewers, local television panicked into a downward spiral and many a trusting viewer decided to go elsewhere. Corporate media was demanding reporters adapt to the point of our own extinction.
Morphed into propaganda machines - cheerleaders with pompoms - it was heartbreaking to watch the demise and media corporations always bass-akwards responses. With two wars on two fronts they decided to go "Local." Only local news. The war and the profound implications of it were relegated to 30 second stories buried deep into the newscast. (they don't need to know about that.--but there's a grass fire up the road!) If that's not manipulation, I don't know what is.
Here are some other sad results of this corporate bullying toward some of the best journalist in the country:
Anchors and reporters stopped asking why. The corporate media demanded nationalism without skepticism, believing ratings would fall further if reporters did their jobs.
Anchors and reporters starting taking their stories from satellite feeds coming directly to their desks and then standing in front of a chroma key delivering a story they did not collect and sometimes did not write. If viewers think every newscast looks the same that's why. It is.
Anchors and reporters allowed chroma key pictures of conflict areas to appear behind them giving viewers the false impression they were on the scene of the conflict instead of demanding to be sent there. Some could not even point out on the map behind them where the conflict was.
Anchors and reporters allowed management to hire entertainment reporters and producers. It's cheaper to entertain than to inform because an informed public makes wakes from slumber and makes noise.
Anchors and reporters began allowing precious hours meant for journalism to be filled with helicopter shots of the latest grassfire, traffic jam, or car chase, ala O.J.
Anchors and reporters allowed news directors and sales people to dictate their "look." Good journalism does not have a "look."
Anchors and reporters did not fight back when their investigative pieces were dropped. Managers feared losing advertising dollars and reporters acquiesced.
Anchors and reporters and producers agreed to story counts. Tell the story no matter how complicated in thirty seconds - throwing random and massive amounts of information at viewers without context.
Anchors and reporters started wearing American flags on their lapels. Some of whom never voted in any election.
Anchors and reporters began using genetically altered language: "War on Terrorism," without explaining that many people in the world think Americans are the terrorists.
Anchors and reporters started referring to the United States government as "We."
Anchors and reporters were handed press releases regarding corporate "mishaps" and began reading them verbatim. Like so: "Blank Oil Company had an explosion today; shelter in place, close the doors and windows, and don't go outside. However, the 'You've Got To Be Kidding Me Oil Company' says everything is fine."
Anchors and reporters agreed to report news that was already reported in newspapers and radio. Doing their own stories or advancing others creates controversy and potential lawsuits, betraying the sacred oath of corporate cronyism.
Anchors and reporters agreed to be physically altered in photographs, and airbrushed with make-up like playboy bunnies, as the media corporations ignored the news and invested in High Definition - hoping a grassfire on HD might look like news.
Anchors and reporters started advertising. "If you liked that story there will be more at six." "If you want to get more information go to www. you're_an_idiot.com. Makes you just want to scream: I'm here now; tell me now!
Anchors and reporters allowed producers to lead with Annie Nicole Smith instead of the "Scooter" Libby trial - making it clear that all sense of proportion and good judgment had been lost.
Corporations in this country are always a reflection of those in the White House. This White House is the Wild West, and corporations, even those who are charged with helping the public gain knowledge, are mining for gold. But today, when we had almost given up, Dan put his holster on.
THANK YOU DAN RATHER
Thank you Dan Rather. It's balls to the wall time, and as a fellow Texan, you sure came through.
As an investigative journalist who worked as both a reporter and anchor for the San Francisco Bay Area's highest rated newscast for 22 years, I can only say what happened to you nationally was also happening locally. You were told to conform to a Republican agenda or shut up. When you refused to march in step, you got Bush-whacked.
I read your brief and I know the drill. The erosion was slow and many of us barely noticed the small chiseling away of who and what we once were. Anchors and reporters depend on high ratings. If ratings fall in television, people get fired. In the months following 9/11, the President's approval rating was 86 percent, and that's when many in commercial journalism lost their way. To disagree or even ask a disagreeable question regarding the President and his decisions was interpreted as disloyal by many media corporations.
But now we have learned. Get the trashcan ready to catch the chips, because the chisel is swinging back the other way and we as journalists are about to regain our voices and America's trust. Dan - the Man - as we call him in Texas is reminding the media conglomerates how it is supposed to work. News and those who report it are not supposed to be for sale. Dan remembers, and he's about to explain it to us on a national scale, but first some explanations from my field of vision as to how we got here.
On January 2003, President Bush delivered his State of the Union address. Osama bin Laden turned into Saddam Hussein, and Afghanistan turned into Iraq. The press knew this was a bait and switch, but fearing reporters and anchors might appear unpatriotic, the corporate media made it clear that even if George W. Bush played twister in the nude while a few sheets to the wind instead of going to constitutional law classes at Yale, we were not allowed to talk about it.
Viacom and CBS, according to Dan, wanted to curry favor with the White House. There are very few media conglomerates that didn't. Cox Broadcasting banned the Dixie Chicks from radio stations because their lead singer made a remark under her breath criticizing the president! Not wanting to appear unpatriotic, the town criers did not cry out. Many corporate media reporters became stenographers, not reporters on that State of the Union day. Those in television journalism, particularly those working for a Fox affiliate, were not allowed to ask questions that could be perceived as unpatriotic, and every question was seen as unpatriotic. Monarchs and dictators don't allow questions. They also destroy those who speak ill of them. "Scooter - Valerie." "Rove - Anyone." Blackwater was running around in the name of the United States shooting first and asking questions later like third world rebels, and back at home, Fox became the fastest growing network with fearless leaders who believed in not only reporting the news but spinning it as well.
Just seven years ago, I looked up from my desk and saw my image on the MacNeil-Lehrer NewsHour as our staff of independent journalists was described as the best local news in the country. But war broke out and the Internet took off and all over the country local news ratings dropped as viewers turned to the national networks for news from the war fronts. Contrary to all logical thinking, local reporters looked at their retirement plans and their kids in college and promptly puckered their lips on the behinds of corporate media and smooched. If my kids were still in college I would not have the courage to write this now. In response to fewer viewers, local television panicked into a downward spiral and many a trusting viewer decided to go elsewhere. Corporate media was demanding reporters adapt to the point of our own extinction.
Morphed into propaganda machines - cheerleaders with pompoms - it was heartbreaking to watch the demise and media corporations always bass-akwards responses. With two wars on two fronts they decided to go "Local." Only local news. The war and the profound implications of it were relegated to 30 second stories buried deep into the newscast. (they don't need to know about that.--but there's a grass fire up the road!) If that's not manipulation, I don't know what is.
Here are some other sad results of this corporate bullying toward some of the best journalist in the country:
Anchors and reporters stopped asking why. The corporate media demanded nationalism without skepticism, believing ratings would fall further if reporters did their jobs.
Anchors and reporters starting taking their stories from satellite feeds coming directly to their desks and then standing in front of a chroma key delivering a story they did not collect and sometimes did not write. If viewers think every newscast looks the same that's why. It is.
Anchors and reporters allowed chroma key pictures of conflict areas to appear behind them giving viewers the false impression they were on the scene of the conflict instead of demanding to be sent there. Some could not even point out on the map behind them where the conflict was.
Anchors and reporters allowed management to hire entertainment reporters and producers. It's cheaper to entertain than to inform because an informed public makes wakes from slumber and makes noise.
Anchors and reporters began allowing precious hours meant for journalism to be filled with helicopter shots of the latest grassfire, traffic jam, or car chase, ala O.J.
Anchors and reporters allowed news directors and sales people to dictate their "look." Good journalism does not have a "look."
Anchors and reporters did not fight back when their investigative pieces were dropped. Managers feared losing advertising dollars and reporters acquiesced.
Anchors and reporters and producers agreed to story counts. Tell the story no matter how complicated in thirty seconds - throwing random and massive amounts of information at viewers without context.
Anchors and reporters started wearing American flags on their lapels. Some of whom never voted in any election.
Anchors and reporters began using genetically altered language: "War on Terrorism," without explaining that many people in the world think Americans are the terrorists.
Anchors and reporters started referring to the United States government as "We."
Anchors and reporters were handed press releases regarding corporate "mishaps" and began reading them verbatim. Like so: "Blank Oil Company had an explosion today; shelter in place, close the doors and windows, and don't go outside. However, the 'You've Got To Be Kidding Me Oil Company' says everything is fine."
Anchors and reporters agreed to report news that was already reported in newspapers and radio. Doing their own stories or advancing others creates controversy and potential lawsuits, betraying the sacred oath of corporate cronyism.
Anchors and reporters agreed to be physically altered in photographs, and airbrushed with make-up like playboy bunnies, as the media corporations ignored the news and invested in High Definition - hoping a grassfire on HD might look like news.
Anchors and reporters started advertising. "If you liked that story there will be more at six." "If you want to get more information go to www. you're_an_idiot.com. Makes you just want to scream: I'm here now; tell me now!
Anchors and reporters allowed producers to lead with Annie Nicole Smith instead of the "Scooter" Libby trial - making it clear that all sense of proportion and good judgment had been lost.
Corporations in this country are always a reflection of those in the White House. This White House is the Wild West, and corporations, even those who are charged with helping the public gain knowledge, are mining for gold. But today, when we had almost given up, Dan put his holster on.
Thursday, October 4, 2007
28 is the new 40
I went out Saturday night and had way too much to drink. It had been so long since I had done something like that, that I had temporarily forgotten how much my alcohol consumption tolerance has decreased since my younger days. It's now Thursday, and this is the first day since my night out that I feel back to normal. Pretty bad - a five day hangover, courtesy of six short hours of excess.
As I lay with a throbbing headache and nausea early this week, I began to think of how unmistakably old I feel. Back in the day, I could have drunk twice as much, stayed out half the night, and been fine the very next morning. What happened?? I'm still in my 20s!! (Not for much longer, granted, but still technically.)
So I started to take note of things that show my age and my place in life, and how having kids, being married, and growing up can make a 28-year old feel much, much older.
-- see above (5 day hangover)
-- I remember being 18 and taking two hours to get all gussied up, preparing to go to the liquor store, and hoping against all hope that the clerk would not ask me for ID. Now, though trips to the NSLC happen very seldom, they usually involve swinging by on my way home from the grocery store, dish-pan hands and all, frazzled hair and "mom jeans". And if the clerk asks me for ID, I strongly consider leaping over the counter and kissing him/her passionately on the lips.
-- My adult bedtime is much earlier than my teenage curfew.
-- Nice looking, young waiters call me "ma'am".
-- Going shopping used to be about enjoyable browsing and exciting sales, but with two squirming kids in tow, it has become an exercise in efficiency, patience, and survival.
-- Speaking of shopping, time, age, and experience have taught me a very important lesson: it's a courageous mother who braves Wal-Mart on Family Allowance day.
-- The make-up compacts, movie ticket stubs, and money previously found in my purse, have been replaced with an adequate supply of napkins, an emergency granola bar, and 16 dinkies.
-- Martha Stewart is my idol. And not for the purposes of bringing humor to this blog, I mean it. She's a genius and I love her. I'm serious.
-- My dream vacation, instead of including wine and dancing and romance, now involves hiring a babysitter, renting a hotel room, and sleeping for an uninterrupted three days.
-- Song stuck in my head in 1997: the new Backstreet Boys song. Song stuck in my head in 2007: the theme song from "The Backyardigans".
-- I can successfully feed a dog, wrestle a 2-year-old, tune out a 9-year-old, chop a green pepper, fold towels, make a phone call, and ponder the topic of my next blog - SIMULTANEOUSLY.
-- At times when I get mad at the kids, I give myself pause when I hear myself using the same threats my parents used on me...in the exact same menacing tone.
-- I am more aware than ever that toilet paper, soap, and milk do not just fall out of the sky. Until you're on your own, you don't realize that these items have to be purchased.
-- The end of summer and the beginning of the school year are suddenly cause for great celebration.
-- Richard Gere has gone from "old guy my friend's mom likes", to "oddly sexy".
-- There are only three sure things in life: death, taxes, and massive, unrelenting piles of laundry.
-- A lot of responsibility comes with being Santa Clause, the Easter Bunny, and the Tooth Fairy.
-- I am fairly well-versed on the topics of "High School Musical", B-Daman, and Grand Theft Auto.
-- Who would have thought I could derive so much unabashed joy from throw pillows, kitchen appliances, and a nice console table?
-- If you watch enough Treehouse, you'll find yourself thinking about the strangest things...like why Frank & Frank aren't in Special Ed, why Toopy hasn't addressed his obvious gender dysmorphia issues, and where the hell Max & Ruby's parents are.
-- No good comes of any conversation starting with the words "Visa", "Nova Scotia Power", or "Revenue Canada".
If you can't relate to at least one of the points above, I have to assume you're a single, childless, independently wealthy socialite with no responsibilities. Your obliviousness would almost be refreshing.
But for those of you who can relate, know that you're not alone. Lots can happen in 10 years, and, though we may not be capable of the same rowdy raucousness we once revelled in, we wear our stains and hangovers and stretch marks and frazzled hair like badges.
I've had my fill of freshman nonesense, and I'm glad that 28 is the new 40.
(I don't have the energy to have it any other way.)
As I lay with a throbbing headache and nausea early this week, I began to think of how unmistakably old I feel. Back in the day, I could have drunk twice as much, stayed out half the night, and been fine the very next morning. What happened?? I'm still in my 20s!! (Not for much longer, granted, but still technically.)
So I started to take note of things that show my age and my place in life, and how having kids, being married, and growing up can make a 28-year old feel much, much older.
-- see above (5 day hangover)
-- I remember being 18 and taking two hours to get all gussied up, preparing to go to the liquor store, and hoping against all hope that the clerk would not ask me for ID. Now, though trips to the NSLC happen very seldom, they usually involve swinging by on my way home from the grocery store, dish-pan hands and all, frazzled hair and "mom jeans". And if the clerk asks me for ID, I strongly consider leaping over the counter and kissing him/her passionately on the lips.
-- My adult bedtime is much earlier than my teenage curfew.
-- Nice looking, young waiters call me "ma'am".
-- Going shopping used to be about enjoyable browsing and exciting sales, but with two squirming kids in tow, it has become an exercise in efficiency, patience, and survival.
-- Speaking of shopping, time, age, and experience have taught me a very important lesson: it's a courageous mother who braves Wal-Mart on Family Allowance day.
-- The make-up compacts, movie ticket stubs, and money previously found in my purse, have been replaced with an adequate supply of napkins, an emergency granola bar, and 16 dinkies.
-- Martha Stewart is my idol. And not for the purposes of bringing humor to this blog, I mean it. She's a genius and I love her. I'm serious.
-- My dream vacation, instead of including wine and dancing and romance, now involves hiring a babysitter, renting a hotel room, and sleeping for an uninterrupted three days.
-- Song stuck in my head in 1997: the new Backstreet Boys song. Song stuck in my head in 2007: the theme song from "The Backyardigans".
-- I can successfully feed a dog, wrestle a 2-year-old, tune out a 9-year-old, chop a green pepper, fold towels, make a phone call, and ponder the topic of my next blog - SIMULTANEOUSLY.
-- At times when I get mad at the kids, I give myself pause when I hear myself using the same threats my parents used on me...in the exact same menacing tone.
-- I am more aware than ever that toilet paper, soap, and milk do not just fall out of the sky. Until you're on your own, you don't realize that these items have to be purchased.
-- The end of summer and the beginning of the school year are suddenly cause for great celebration.
-- Richard Gere has gone from "old guy my friend's mom likes", to "oddly sexy".
-- There are only three sure things in life: death, taxes, and massive, unrelenting piles of laundry.
-- A lot of responsibility comes with being Santa Clause, the Easter Bunny, and the Tooth Fairy.
-- I am fairly well-versed on the topics of "High School Musical", B-Daman, and Grand Theft Auto.
-- Who would have thought I could derive so much unabashed joy from throw pillows, kitchen appliances, and a nice console table?
-- If you watch enough Treehouse, you'll find yourself thinking about the strangest things...like why Frank & Frank aren't in Special Ed, why Toopy hasn't addressed his obvious gender dysmorphia issues, and where the hell Max & Ruby's parents are.
-- No good comes of any conversation starting with the words "Visa", "Nova Scotia Power", or "Revenue Canada".
If you can't relate to at least one of the points above, I have to assume you're a single, childless, independently wealthy socialite with no responsibilities. Your obliviousness would almost be refreshing.
But for those of you who can relate, know that you're not alone. Lots can happen in 10 years, and, though we may not be capable of the same rowdy raucousness we once revelled in, we wear our stains and hangovers and stretch marks and frazzled hair like badges.
I've had my fill of freshman nonesense, and I'm glad that 28 is the new 40.
(I don't have the energy to have it any other way.)
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
The Color Purple
I saw the funniest political cartoon the other day. It was a huge picture of Oprah breastfeeding a baby Barack Obama. (Whoever writes/draws those things is a genius of John Stewart proportions.)
Oprah Winfrey is a very interesting subject. There is no middle ground with this woman - people either love her and adore her, or they despise her and want her off the air. But one thing is for certain: everyone knows who she is, and everyone has at least some opinion of her.
This is what I think.
I think women are much bigger fans of Oprah than men are, and I think there are two main reasons for this. First, Oprah is intimidating. She's a big personality, loud, unabashed, honest, rich, successful, powerful, with a zero poop-tolerance. She does not back down from dealing with tough issues that most people would choose to ignore. These traits must be difficult for some men to deal with. It is much easier for them to just call her names and roll their eyes at her, than it is to admit that she might just be more woman than they could handle, and could wipe the floor clean with them. Men have issues with that kind of thing. Sorry, men.
Secondly, Oprah attributes a great deal of human behavior to emotional and psychological influences, things that plenty of men don't want to discuss. "Mushy girl stuff" doesn't usually appeal to their practical nature, and Oprah loves talking about mushy girl stuff.
Anyway, I digress.
After laughing hysterically at this political cartoon, I started thinking about people's impression of Oprah. One thing that you often hear discussed, frequently, is that Oprah is racist, something I think is completely untrue. I know I'm supposed to be saying African-American (at least I think that's the politically correct terminology), but for the sake of not having to type those 16 characters over and over again, I'll use black....that should be ok for me to say since she often refers to herself as black. Oh well, I'll take my chances.
Oprah is black. A great number of her guests are also black. Plenty of the causes she supports and projects she's involved in have to do with issues in the black community. That this leads people to believe she's racist is complete hypocricy. I'm white. If someone told me to invision a woman who had been beaten by her husband, or a man who's beaten the odds and thrived with a severe disability, I would automatically picture a white woman and a white man. This has nothing to do with me being racist, it has to do with a tendancy to initially relate to people of my own race. It's not because I think that no black women are beaten by their husbands, nor is it because I don't think a black man could overcome a disability. So when Oprah's producers approach her with an idea for a show about great current musical performers, she might be first inclined to book Alicia Keys, where Dr. Phil might automatically think of Justin Timberlake. And when she's trying to book guests for a show about working mothers, the mothers she first pictures are probably going to be black. Do you see what I mean? It's about relating and familiarity and habit, rather than an intentional snub to white people. Maybe I haven't given the greatest explanation, but I'm sure someone catches my drift.
I also feel it necessary to mention how, 1)she is equally hard on every race and ethnicity when she smells B.S.; 2)she is eager to praise every race and ethnicity when she witnesses greatness, and; 3)she can do whatever she wants, since it's her TV show, and millions and billions of people are going to watch it regardless of what she does.
So here she is, Ms. O, publicly supporting a presidential candidate for the first time in her career, and he's black. Well guess what, I'm inclined to support Barack Obama too, and I'm white as the driven snow. Though I suspect our main reasons for liking him are different, I think we have one reason in common. Racism is a huge issue in the United States, even moreso than in Canada, I believe. What better way to turn all the back-woods, bigoted hillbillies on their ear, than to elect a black president? This might be an irresponsible reason, but it is excused by the fact that Mr. Obama is very intelligent and qualified, making him, in my opinion, an excellent candidate for Leader of the Free World. The fact that he's black is just icing on the cake for me, as I'm sure it is for Oprah as well, irresponsible or not.
I think racism is immature and petty. There are plenty of white people I love, and probably an equal number who I wish would get shot with a ball of their own snot. There are plenty of black people who are accomplished and outstanding, and plenty who are a pain in the ass. Character has nothing to do with race, and when people start to judge others based on character instead of race, the world will be a well-oiled machine.
It wouldn't matter if she was purple, I love Oprah. She's a smart lady with a good heart. I don't think she's racist at all. In fact, I think we share the same view of racism.
And what woman doesn't want to have something in common with Oprah?!?
Oprah Winfrey is a very interesting subject. There is no middle ground with this woman - people either love her and adore her, or they despise her and want her off the air. But one thing is for certain: everyone knows who she is, and everyone has at least some opinion of her.
This is what I think.
I think women are much bigger fans of Oprah than men are, and I think there are two main reasons for this. First, Oprah is intimidating. She's a big personality, loud, unabashed, honest, rich, successful, powerful, with a zero poop-tolerance. She does not back down from dealing with tough issues that most people would choose to ignore. These traits must be difficult for some men to deal with. It is much easier for them to just call her names and roll their eyes at her, than it is to admit that she might just be more woman than they could handle, and could wipe the floor clean with them. Men have issues with that kind of thing. Sorry, men.
Secondly, Oprah attributes a great deal of human behavior to emotional and psychological influences, things that plenty of men don't want to discuss. "Mushy girl stuff" doesn't usually appeal to their practical nature, and Oprah loves talking about mushy girl stuff.
Anyway, I digress.
After laughing hysterically at this political cartoon, I started thinking about people's impression of Oprah. One thing that you often hear discussed, frequently, is that Oprah is racist, something I think is completely untrue. I know I'm supposed to be saying African-American (at least I think that's the politically correct terminology), but for the sake of not having to type those 16 characters over and over again, I'll use black....that should be ok for me to say since she often refers to herself as black. Oh well, I'll take my chances.
Oprah is black. A great number of her guests are also black. Plenty of the causes she supports and projects she's involved in have to do with issues in the black community. That this leads people to believe she's racist is complete hypocricy. I'm white. If someone told me to invision a woman who had been beaten by her husband, or a man who's beaten the odds and thrived with a severe disability, I would automatically picture a white woman and a white man. This has nothing to do with me being racist, it has to do with a tendancy to initially relate to people of my own race. It's not because I think that no black women are beaten by their husbands, nor is it because I don't think a black man could overcome a disability. So when Oprah's producers approach her with an idea for a show about great current musical performers, she might be first inclined to book Alicia Keys, where Dr. Phil might automatically think of Justin Timberlake. And when she's trying to book guests for a show about working mothers, the mothers she first pictures are probably going to be black. Do you see what I mean? It's about relating and familiarity and habit, rather than an intentional snub to white people. Maybe I haven't given the greatest explanation, but I'm sure someone catches my drift.
I also feel it necessary to mention how, 1)she is equally hard on every race and ethnicity when she smells B.S.; 2)she is eager to praise every race and ethnicity when she witnesses greatness, and; 3)she can do whatever she wants, since it's her TV show, and millions and billions of people are going to watch it regardless of what she does.
So here she is, Ms. O, publicly supporting a presidential candidate for the first time in her career, and he's black. Well guess what, I'm inclined to support Barack Obama too, and I'm white as the driven snow. Though I suspect our main reasons for liking him are different, I think we have one reason in common. Racism is a huge issue in the United States, even moreso than in Canada, I believe. What better way to turn all the back-woods, bigoted hillbillies on their ear, than to elect a black president? This might be an irresponsible reason, but it is excused by the fact that Mr. Obama is very intelligent and qualified, making him, in my opinion, an excellent candidate for Leader of the Free World. The fact that he's black is just icing on the cake for me, as I'm sure it is for Oprah as well, irresponsible or not.
I think racism is immature and petty. There are plenty of white people I love, and probably an equal number who I wish would get shot with a ball of their own snot. There are plenty of black people who are accomplished and outstanding, and plenty who are a pain in the ass. Character has nothing to do with race, and when people start to judge others based on character instead of race, the world will be a well-oiled machine.
It wouldn't matter if she was purple, I love Oprah. She's a smart lady with a good heart. I don't think she's racist at all. In fact, I think we share the same view of racism.
And what woman doesn't want to have something in common with Oprah?!?
Wednesday, September 19, 2007
The Honorable Premier Ashley MacIssac??
A few months ago, I received an invitation to join a Facebook group called, "Make Cape Breton Canada's 11th Province!"....oh how cute, I thought....and I joined. Up until a few weeks ago, I thought it was a joke, a group probably started by some half-drunk political science student from UCCB (before you harp, yes, I know it goes by UCB now, but it will always be UCCB to most of us). But it's not a joke or a statement or a prank...it's an actual movement.
If you mosie on over to www.provinceofcapebreton.com , you'll find a plethora of information about this movement. The guy behind it is named Mark Macneill, a man from Mabou. This guy is no crackerjack dreamer; I have exchanged emails with him, and he comes across as a very intelligent man with a purpose and, more importantly, a plan. He is passionate about this provincehood movement, and has the facts, history, and vision to back it up. I had planned on writing with a summary and opinions and details, but I wouldn't even know where to begin, having tried several times. You are best left to log into the website and read for yourself.
It did get me thinking though, about the ramifications of this potential map alteration. What would Cape Breton really be like if we were, finally, our own province?
It's a running joke that mainland Nova Scotia is just a body of land off the coast of Cape Breton. Cape Bretoners are loud and proud and unique, a fact understood and accepted throughout Canada, and well documented to boot. My brother, before he left to go out west, had a huge "CAPE BRETONER FOR LIFE" tattoo emblazoned on his forearm, just to be sure everyone knew his mindset (what a patriot, I guess?). God help the person who would venture into Smooth Hermans and start a rant about how Halifax is a great city to represent Nova Scotia, or that Cape Breton is a back-woods kind of place. I'm not sure that person would make it out of the bar, or the island, alive.
Still in all, for the sake of humour, I'll continue. Caution to those Cape Bretoners who can't take a joke: you might want to stop reading now.
So let's say we did earn the title of Canada's 11th province...what next? First things first, it's Cape Breton....we'd have a HUGE party to celebrate. Yipee! Centre 200 jam packed with camoflage ski-doo suits as far as the eye can see. There would have to be an open bar (oh no, first day as it's own province and we've already accumulated a $4 million dollar deficit), and karaoke with Phil Kasouf. At the end of the night, the people who aren't fighting or smoking outside would see the unveiling of our provincial flag - Cape Breton tartan with a big Alexander Keith's symbol in the middle. Before the crowd dispersed, we could all join in with the Barra MacNeils and sing our national anthem...."We are an island, a rock in the stream, we are a people...."...c'mon, you know the words! What a great night that would be.
I guess we'd need a Premier before long. Rodney MacDonald might seem like the logical choice, being a homegrown boy himself, but he's in business on the mainland now. In a perfect world, it would come down to Ashley MacIsaac and Nash Brogan, wouldn't I just love to see that voting ballot. Whoever got the job, they could set up the Premier's office at UCB, and give free tuition to any student who could beat them in a drinking game. A sitting of the legislature could take place at Steel City, where all the ministers could take turns on the poker machines during the downtime. Randy MacDonald & Bob MacEachern could do a media scrum outside afterwards, and the Cape Breton post could cover all the action in print. I can see the headline now: "First CB Legislature Sits Over Potato Skins & Cheap Bar Shots".
Joe MacPhee could be the Sultan of St. Peter's, where Breakin' Tradition t-shirts would be mandatory attire to gain admission into the Lion's Hall dances.
Gordie Sampson could be Ambassador to Nashville.
Cape Breton Correction Centre, instead of throwing people in solitary confinement, would punish prisoners by playing Natalie MacMaster albums on a loop and making them eat fried mackrel.
The Summertime Revue could return to headline a concert at the Savoy Theatre, benefitting the Citizens Against Strip Mining and Christmas Daddies, respectively.
Cape Breton Regional Police would become the provincial police force, and God help us all.
Rita's Tea Room would be declared a Provincial Historic Site, as would the Blue Mist in Bras D'Or, The Carriage House in Port Hawkesbury, and the house that the Rankin Family grew up in.
Anyone born at St. Martha's in Antigonish instead of St. Rita's in Sydney would need immigration status.
All road signs would be posted in English, French, Gaelic, and MicMac, making it just as difficult as ever for a person to figure out where in the hell Forchu is at.
Oh, how I could go on and on and on.
But I won't.
I sincerely hope that Mr. Macneill finds success, although I'm still up in the air as to whether Cape Breton Island as its own province would be a viable prospect. Whatever your opinion, one thing is for sure: it has lots of potential to be the most interesting province, by a mile.
If you mosie on over to www.provinceofcapebreton.com , you'll find a plethora of information about this movement. The guy behind it is named Mark Macneill, a man from Mabou. This guy is no crackerjack dreamer; I have exchanged emails with him, and he comes across as a very intelligent man with a purpose and, more importantly, a plan. He is passionate about this provincehood movement, and has the facts, history, and vision to back it up. I had planned on writing with a summary and opinions and details, but I wouldn't even know where to begin, having tried several times. You are best left to log into the website and read for yourself.
It did get me thinking though, about the ramifications of this potential map alteration. What would Cape Breton really be like if we were, finally, our own province?
It's a running joke that mainland Nova Scotia is just a body of land off the coast of Cape Breton. Cape Bretoners are loud and proud and unique, a fact understood and accepted throughout Canada, and well documented to boot. My brother, before he left to go out west, had a huge "CAPE BRETONER FOR LIFE" tattoo emblazoned on his forearm, just to be sure everyone knew his mindset (what a patriot, I guess?). God help the person who would venture into Smooth Hermans and start a rant about how Halifax is a great city to represent Nova Scotia, or that Cape Breton is a back-woods kind of place. I'm not sure that person would make it out of the bar, or the island, alive.
Still in all, for the sake of humour, I'll continue. Caution to those Cape Bretoners who can't take a joke: you might want to stop reading now.
So let's say we did earn the title of Canada's 11th province...what next? First things first, it's Cape Breton....we'd have a HUGE party to celebrate. Yipee! Centre 200 jam packed with camoflage ski-doo suits as far as the eye can see. There would have to be an open bar (oh no, first day as it's own province and we've already accumulated a $4 million dollar deficit), and karaoke with Phil Kasouf. At the end of the night, the people who aren't fighting or smoking outside would see the unveiling of our provincial flag - Cape Breton tartan with a big Alexander Keith's symbol in the middle. Before the crowd dispersed, we could all join in with the Barra MacNeils and sing our national anthem...."We are an island, a rock in the stream, we are a people...."...c'mon, you know the words! What a great night that would be.
I guess we'd need a Premier before long. Rodney MacDonald might seem like the logical choice, being a homegrown boy himself, but he's in business on the mainland now. In a perfect world, it would come down to Ashley MacIsaac and Nash Brogan, wouldn't I just love to see that voting ballot. Whoever got the job, they could set up the Premier's office at UCB, and give free tuition to any student who could beat them in a drinking game. A sitting of the legislature could take place at Steel City, where all the ministers could take turns on the poker machines during the downtime. Randy MacDonald & Bob MacEachern could do a media scrum outside afterwards, and the Cape Breton post could cover all the action in print. I can see the headline now: "First CB Legislature Sits Over Potato Skins & Cheap Bar Shots".
Joe MacPhee could be the Sultan of St. Peter's, where Breakin' Tradition t-shirts would be mandatory attire to gain admission into the Lion's Hall dances.
Gordie Sampson could be Ambassador to Nashville.
Cape Breton Correction Centre, instead of throwing people in solitary confinement, would punish prisoners by playing Natalie MacMaster albums on a loop and making them eat fried mackrel.
The Summertime Revue could return to headline a concert at the Savoy Theatre, benefitting the Citizens Against Strip Mining and Christmas Daddies, respectively.
Cape Breton Regional Police would become the provincial police force, and God help us all.
Rita's Tea Room would be declared a Provincial Historic Site, as would the Blue Mist in Bras D'Or, The Carriage House in Port Hawkesbury, and the house that the Rankin Family grew up in.
Anyone born at St. Martha's in Antigonish instead of St. Rita's in Sydney would need immigration status.
All road signs would be posted in English, French, Gaelic, and MicMac, making it just as difficult as ever for a person to figure out where in the hell Forchu is at.
Oh, how I could go on and on and on.
But I won't.
I sincerely hope that Mr. Macneill finds success, although I'm still up in the air as to whether Cape Breton Island as its own province would be a viable prospect. Whatever your opinion, one thing is for sure: it has lots of potential to be the most interesting province, by a mile.
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
Of Style, Mediocrity & Fist-Fighting Has-Beens: The 2007 MTV VMAs
I normally wouldn't sit through this awards show, but there truly was nothing else on.
My thoughts.....
- Who were the winners hosting the pre-show? Maybe someone recognized them, but I sure didn't. These guys followed in the sad, pathetic footsteps of Mary Hart and Joan Rivers before them, groveling and keister-smooching any A-, B-, C- or D-list celebrity within earshot. With all journalistic integrity completely flushed down the crapper, one guy felt free to gush to Dave Grohl, of all people, about him being, "the guest I'm most excited to see tonight, even more than Britney". Buddy, who do you think you're fooling? Not me, and certainly not Dave. You're wearing more lip gloss than Ashanti, dressed in a pink ascot, which you described as 'fabulous' at least twice - admit it, Britney is your world and you think Dave Grohl is an ogre.
Couldn't the MTV people at least have gotten Seacrest? Or Vanessa Manillo? I'm sure her schedule was free.
- This year's show should have been billed "Britney's Comeback", since that's all anyone has been talking about for the past week. A few words about Britney:
I would have expected her to lapse out of her drug-induced coma at least long enough to perform, but it doesn't appear that she timed her meds right. Did she know where she was? Who she was? Maybe she thought it was a dress rehearsal and didn't require any effort, energy, or enthusiasm whatsoever. Because if that was her comeback, she's in big trouble. Once the Goddess of Inappropriate Gyrating, this performance didn't even cause a blip on the sensor's radars, nor did it make the cut with the nine fans she has left. And to make matters worse, she's forgotten how to lip-sync! Her bread and butter! Her only option now is to become the poster child for Pro-Tools Pitch Correction Software......can you hear that sound? Ya, that's Kevin Federline laughing his butt off.
One brief note in Britney's defense: lots of critics are talking about how she is "out of shape". In a world where lack of visible spine and pelvic bones is considered fat, I guess I shouldn't be surprised. But this little tart just had two babies about five minutes ago! She might not have the same snake-wielding stripper body she once had, but she looked great to me, and she's far from "the fat chick". And, incidentally, I'm totally diggin' that new song of hers.
- And the MTV VMA for Best Awards Show Entertainer goes to: Sarah Silverman. She killed me.
- There must have been a misprint in Beyonce's invitation. Why else would she have dressed up like an Academy Award? This girl could wear anything, so I can't imagine why she chose an ill-fitting, gold lamme, African-American-Statue-of-Liberty costume.
-Fergie didn't show up to claim her award for: Best Attempt At "Being One Of The Guys/High School Ghetto Princess" Schtick A La Gwen Stefani. (Maybe it was for best song or video or something, I don't know...who cares.) I understand her absence, though. If I had the hotness that is Josh Duhamel waiting at home for me, I wouldn't leave for some silly awards show either.
- Chris Brown should be a professional dancer, very cool performance, albeit badly lip-synced. But dude, these days the whole Michael Jackson impression thing is reserved for cute little six-year-olds on Star Search. When you and Usher do it, it's just weird.
- Attention Kanye: Max Headroom wants his glasses back. Just because something is old, doesn't make it cool and retro. Sometimes it's just old. And those glasses are the perfect example.
- Some girls should just never go blonde. Someone should have told Nelly Furtado.
- Did you see Samuel L. Jackson dressed in drag!?! He was presenting an award for.....oh wait.....no nevermind, that's Mary J. Blige. Wow, she's got shoulders like a linebacker! Mary J., stick to the teleprompter, dear. We wouldn't want you to pull a mental muscle.
- I've been unwillingly brainwashed into wanting peanut-free Mars bars, flip phones with beaver spokesmen, and Gwen Stefani's new fragrance. Those commercials were on a friggin loop the whole broadcast.
- Was Dr. Dre really the biggest icon they could find? Really?? I thought he was just the guy driving the Batmobile in that Eminem video. Maybe no one else was available.
- Linkin Park hasn't been relevant since 2001. Sorry.
- For a large man, Timbaland is looking pretty damn good. Not in a Speedo I'm sure, but he's working that jeans & t-shirt thing to the max. Speaking of looking damn good, Alicia Keys has got quite the body on her, geez.
- Tommy Lee and Kid Rock got in a big brawl over their mutual mega-flake ex-, Pamela Anderson. Seems like a waste of energy to me. She married and divorced both of them about four hundred times, I'm sure they'll each get another turn eventually.
- Fall Out Boy rules, they were great.
- To Jamie Foxx: nobody bought your last seventeen albums. No award presentation, no copious amount of alcohol you ingest, no awkward conversation with Jennifer Garner, will make people want to buy the upcoming album you shamelessly and drunkenly plugged throughout your presentation speech.
- Did you notice, when Timberlake/baland/Furtado came out to close the show, most of the audience had already left? That's what happen when you hype the "biggest awards show of the year" and then quarantine the actual talent in seperate suites, leaving the main show to be held in a makeshift dinner theatre.
That's it for me. Tune in next year ladies & gents, when Rico Suave makes his comeback, Kanye wears MC Hammer pants, and the Icon Award is presented to Kris Kross.
My thoughts.....
- Who were the winners hosting the pre-show? Maybe someone recognized them, but I sure didn't. These guys followed in the sad, pathetic footsteps of Mary Hart and Joan Rivers before them, groveling and keister-smooching any A-, B-, C- or D-list celebrity within earshot. With all journalistic integrity completely flushed down the crapper, one guy felt free to gush to Dave Grohl, of all people, about him being, "the guest I'm most excited to see tonight, even more than Britney". Buddy, who do you think you're fooling? Not me, and certainly not Dave. You're wearing more lip gloss than Ashanti, dressed in a pink ascot, which you described as 'fabulous' at least twice - admit it, Britney is your world and you think Dave Grohl is an ogre.
Couldn't the MTV people at least have gotten Seacrest? Or Vanessa Manillo? I'm sure her schedule was free.
- This year's show should have been billed "Britney's Comeback", since that's all anyone has been talking about for the past week. A few words about Britney:
I would have expected her to lapse out of her drug-induced coma at least long enough to perform, but it doesn't appear that she timed her meds right. Did she know where she was? Who she was? Maybe she thought it was a dress rehearsal and didn't require any effort, energy, or enthusiasm whatsoever. Because if that was her comeback, she's in big trouble. Once the Goddess of Inappropriate Gyrating, this performance didn't even cause a blip on the sensor's radars, nor did it make the cut with the nine fans she has left. And to make matters worse, she's forgotten how to lip-sync! Her bread and butter! Her only option now is to become the poster child for Pro-Tools Pitch Correction Software......can you hear that sound? Ya, that's Kevin Federline laughing his butt off.
One brief note in Britney's defense: lots of critics are talking about how she is "out of shape". In a world where lack of visible spine and pelvic bones is considered fat, I guess I shouldn't be surprised. But this little tart just had two babies about five minutes ago! She might not have the same snake-wielding stripper body she once had, but she looked great to me, and she's far from "the fat chick". And, incidentally, I'm totally diggin' that new song of hers.
- And the MTV VMA for Best Awards Show Entertainer goes to: Sarah Silverman. She killed me.
- There must have been a misprint in Beyonce's invitation. Why else would she have dressed up like an Academy Award? This girl could wear anything, so I can't imagine why she chose an ill-fitting, gold lamme, African-American-Statue-of-Liberty costume.
-Fergie didn't show up to claim her award for: Best Attempt At "Being One Of The Guys/High School Ghetto Princess" Schtick A La Gwen Stefani. (Maybe it was for best song or video or something, I don't know...who cares.) I understand her absence, though. If I had the hotness that is Josh Duhamel waiting at home for me, I wouldn't leave for some silly awards show either.
- Chris Brown should be a professional dancer, very cool performance, albeit badly lip-synced. But dude, these days the whole Michael Jackson impression thing is reserved for cute little six-year-olds on Star Search. When you and Usher do it, it's just weird.
- Attention Kanye: Max Headroom wants his glasses back. Just because something is old, doesn't make it cool and retro. Sometimes it's just old. And those glasses are the perfect example.
- Some girls should just never go blonde. Someone should have told Nelly Furtado.
- Did you see Samuel L. Jackson dressed in drag!?! He was presenting an award for.....oh wait.....no nevermind, that's Mary J. Blige. Wow, she's got shoulders like a linebacker! Mary J., stick to the teleprompter, dear. We wouldn't want you to pull a mental muscle.
- I've been unwillingly brainwashed into wanting peanut-free Mars bars, flip phones with beaver spokesmen, and Gwen Stefani's new fragrance. Those commercials were on a friggin loop the whole broadcast.
- Was Dr. Dre really the biggest icon they could find? Really?? I thought he was just the guy driving the Batmobile in that Eminem video. Maybe no one else was available.
- Linkin Park hasn't been relevant since 2001. Sorry.
- For a large man, Timbaland is looking pretty damn good. Not in a Speedo I'm sure, but he's working that jeans & t-shirt thing to the max. Speaking of looking damn good, Alicia Keys has got quite the body on her, geez.
- Tommy Lee and Kid Rock got in a big brawl over their mutual mega-flake ex-, Pamela Anderson. Seems like a waste of energy to me. She married and divorced both of them about four hundred times, I'm sure they'll each get another turn eventually.
- Fall Out Boy rules, they were great.
- To Jamie Foxx: nobody bought your last seventeen albums. No award presentation, no copious amount of alcohol you ingest, no awkward conversation with Jennifer Garner, will make people want to buy the upcoming album you shamelessly and drunkenly plugged throughout your presentation speech.
- Did you notice, when Timberlake/baland/Furtado came out to close the show, most of the audience had already left? That's what happen when you hype the "biggest awards show of the year" and then quarantine the actual talent in seperate suites, leaving the main show to be held in a makeshift dinner theatre.
That's it for me. Tune in next year ladies & gents, when Rico Suave makes his comeback, Kanye wears MC Hammer pants, and the Icon Award is presented to Kris Kross.
Saturday, September 8, 2007
Re-open the Butterscotch Palace
I do not intend to make light of the disappearance and possible death of a little girl, nor am I mocking mental illness in any way, but I have to ask: wouldn't the good ol' Butterscotch Palace seem like the perfect place for parents who intentionally harm their kids?
I haven't really followed the story of this little girl, Madeleine McCann, who disappeared from her bed on vacation in Portugal while her parents dined close by. But her parents have, in recent days, been named official suspects in her disappearance, since Madeleine's blood was found in their rental car almost a month after she vanished. The police now suspect that the little girl was accidentally killed by one or both of her parents, and that they didn't dispose of the body until later.
It could be that the Portugese police have run out of leads and are wrongly suspecting the parents. These people could be grieving and miserable, now nervous about a loss of focus in their daughter's investigation, and completely innocent; I have no idea. But if this girl WAS killed by her parents, I have to wonder: what kind of deranged people kill their kids?
It seems as though it's in the news more and more these days. Murder-suicide, leaving mothers and fathers and children dead. Someone fed up with life takes their pain and frustration out on their kids, leaving them shot or driven into a body of water or shaken to death, or worse. The argument always seems to be the same: "I had a psychotic break, I thought they would be better off dead than alive, I did it for them." Well...how thoughtful. Your "Parent of the Year" award is in the mail.
A psychotic break that results in the death of your child is reason and cause for your institutionalization, in my books. A parent's responsibility, first and foremost, regardless of the circumstances, is to protect their child from harm. Failure to do that is something which, unfortunately, sometimes can't be helped; the effort put into ensuring the safety of your kids is what must help families coping with accidental death sleep at night. For a parent to intentionally negate this duty is criminal, in my opinion, and for the parent to intentionally bring harm, injury, or death to their child, is INSANITY.
Think of it this way: a man is holding a gun to your child's head, and says he'll shoot if you don't hand over your wallet. It is a parent's responsibility to hand it over, as any one of us would do in a heartbeat, with a big smile on our face, if it meant our kid would be safe. For a parent to not hand over their wallet? That's criminal, and one would have to question that person's sanity. But for a parent to be the one holding the gun?? What kind of person is that? A sick one, as far as I'm concerned.
My kids can take me to the brink sometimes. There are days where I think my hair will just spontaneously turn white, and that I might not make it through the day without booking a ticket to France and getting away for a few years. I'm home with my kids all day, my husband and I never get an evening to ourselves, and I deal with the same problems that any average family does, maybe more. But I would never hurt my kids. There are times when I have to walk away from them, for fear of putting them outside with a "For Sale" sign around their little necks, but I would never hurt them. Neither would the majority of you. The people who can't deal with life, with problems, and who snap and kill their own kids, need to live in a psychiatric hospital, there are no two ways about it. If they'd kill their own kids, what would they do to me? Or to you? Or to Joe Blow down the street?
And this is to say nothing of the parents who "accidentally" kill their kids. I'm not sure what "accidentally" killing someone would involve, in fact I shudder to think, but anyway...suppose it was an accident. Your child is laying at your feet, in pain, or bleeding, or unconscious, or worse. Wouldn't your first instinct be to call the police? The ambulance? To spill your guts? Ooze remorse and emotion at the loss of your child? Or if not, once the police came asking questions, wouldn't you tell them everything you could in an effort to explain yourself and comfort the rest of your family?
A better question might be...if you had "accidentally" killed your own child, would you hide the body, report her disappearance to the police, and launch an international search for her? Or would these be the actions of a parent who lost their temper, got carried away, and now doesn't want to accept responsibility for their actions? Think about it. These are not the actions of parents whose daughter had "an accident".
Not the most well-worded, cohesive blog on record, but I attribute that to the painkillers and lack of sleep. One thing is for sure: if I ever did anything to my kids, I would hold no ill-will toward the person who turned me into the Nova Scotia Hospital and threw away the key.
Long live the memory and intention of the Butterscotch Palace.
I haven't really followed the story of this little girl, Madeleine McCann, who disappeared from her bed on vacation in Portugal while her parents dined close by. But her parents have, in recent days, been named official suspects in her disappearance, since Madeleine's blood was found in their rental car almost a month after she vanished. The police now suspect that the little girl was accidentally killed by one or both of her parents, and that they didn't dispose of the body until later.
It could be that the Portugese police have run out of leads and are wrongly suspecting the parents. These people could be grieving and miserable, now nervous about a loss of focus in their daughter's investigation, and completely innocent; I have no idea. But if this girl WAS killed by her parents, I have to wonder: what kind of deranged people kill their kids?
It seems as though it's in the news more and more these days. Murder-suicide, leaving mothers and fathers and children dead. Someone fed up with life takes their pain and frustration out on their kids, leaving them shot or driven into a body of water or shaken to death, or worse. The argument always seems to be the same: "I had a psychotic break, I thought they would be better off dead than alive, I did it for them." Well...how thoughtful. Your "Parent of the Year" award is in the mail.
A psychotic break that results in the death of your child is reason and cause for your institutionalization, in my books. A parent's responsibility, first and foremost, regardless of the circumstances, is to protect their child from harm. Failure to do that is something which, unfortunately, sometimes can't be helped; the effort put into ensuring the safety of your kids is what must help families coping with accidental death sleep at night. For a parent to intentionally negate this duty is criminal, in my opinion, and for the parent to intentionally bring harm, injury, or death to their child, is INSANITY.
Think of it this way: a man is holding a gun to your child's head, and says he'll shoot if you don't hand over your wallet. It is a parent's responsibility to hand it over, as any one of us would do in a heartbeat, with a big smile on our face, if it meant our kid would be safe. For a parent to not hand over their wallet? That's criminal, and one would have to question that person's sanity. But for a parent to be the one holding the gun?? What kind of person is that? A sick one, as far as I'm concerned.
My kids can take me to the brink sometimes. There are days where I think my hair will just spontaneously turn white, and that I might not make it through the day without booking a ticket to France and getting away for a few years. I'm home with my kids all day, my husband and I never get an evening to ourselves, and I deal with the same problems that any average family does, maybe more. But I would never hurt my kids. There are times when I have to walk away from them, for fear of putting them outside with a "For Sale" sign around their little necks, but I would never hurt them. Neither would the majority of you. The people who can't deal with life, with problems, and who snap and kill their own kids, need to live in a psychiatric hospital, there are no two ways about it. If they'd kill their own kids, what would they do to me? Or to you? Or to Joe Blow down the street?
And this is to say nothing of the parents who "accidentally" kill their kids. I'm not sure what "accidentally" killing someone would involve, in fact I shudder to think, but anyway...suppose it was an accident. Your child is laying at your feet, in pain, or bleeding, or unconscious, or worse. Wouldn't your first instinct be to call the police? The ambulance? To spill your guts? Ooze remorse and emotion at the loss of your child? Or if not, once the police came asking questions, wouldn't you tell them everything you could in an effort to explain yourself and comfort the rest of your family?
A better question might be...if you had "accidentally" killed your own child, would you hide the body, report her disappearance to the police, and launch an international search for her? Or would these be the actions of a parent who lost their temper, got carried away, and now doesn't want to accept responsibility for their actions? Think about it. These are not the actions of parents whose daughter had "an accident".
Not the most well-worded, cohesive blog on record, but I attribute that to the painkillers and lack of sleep. One thing is for sure: if I ever did anything to my kids, I would hold no ill-will toward the person who turned me into the Nova Scotia Hospital and threw away the key.
Long live the memory and intention of the Butterscotch Palace.
Friday, September 7, 2007
Friday
For the few of you who might be wondering, I haven't forgotten about this blog. Over the past week or so, I have been having some tooth issues, causing severe pain and, at times, a feeling of drunkenness thanks to the powerful cornucopia of medication I'm taking. It's extremely difficult to think about blogging when it feels as though the left side of your face is about to fall off at any moment.
The main reason for my absence has been a lack of material (slow news week, overall). As with everything else, it never rains, it pours, and now there are a dozen different topics I'd like to write about...as soon as the throbbing ceases, I'll be back.
The main reason for my absence has been a lack of material (slow news week, overall). As with everything else, it never rains, it pours, and now there are a dozen different topics I'd like to write about...as soon as the throbbing ceases, I'll be back.
Wednesday, August 29, 2007
"God bless you, God"
Big Brother time! (This one's for you Megan...)
Plenty has happened since my last BB8 post; it's not AS boring as it was in the beginning, but I still hold firm to my assessment that this season isn't nearly as good as seasons past. That being said...
Joe "gracefully" left, Nick got the shaft, Kail finally got put out of her misery, Mike played stupid and was booted, Dustin had to pay by acting as the fall guy, and Jen was backdoored. What a wonderful world.
And then there were seven.
Dick - When did Dick get boring? Not a single abusive outburst or tirade since Jen left. It's amazing that he's still in the house, but I think he can thank the producers of BB for that, at least in part. They've been known to try to influence the guests in the Diary Room, and knowing that Dick is their biggest ratings draw in the house, they'd be reluctant to let him go. Anyway, as much as he's managed to turn this season's snorefest into a somewhat watchable spectacle, he's also turned into the biggest creep EVER. Could he be more eager to make out with his own daughter!?! His "congratulatory" hugs and kisses are really starting to weird me out, and the whole "I am your faaaathaa" routine isn't terribly believeable. "Daniele, take your vitamins." "Daniele, do you want to talk about our relationship?" "Daniele, do you need a hug?" No Dick, she doesn't need a hug, she needs you to leave her the eff alone, you gross her out on multiple levels. He used to make things interesting, he used to be very influential, but now he's the desperate old guy. He'll be here for at least another two weeks by my calculations, perhaps even until the final two.
Zach - I still haven't figured out what this guy is useful for, but I don't think he's as stupid as I did before. He comes off as a pretty intelligent guy in the diary room, and I guess he can't be THAT stupid if he outlasted so many others, but he's still just a floater to me. He's never won a single veto competition or HOH, even though he's played in almost every one, and he hasn't managed to nail down a solid alliance. Float float float Zach. He must be so bored! No friends, no conflict, no nothing. He's on the block this week, but he might just survive. Who knows, who cares. Zach is boring.
Jameka - Man, I laughed when the BB people started playing organ music every time Jameka speaks. Her "God is a gangster" speech was great, lotsa laughs in my house that night. I feel sorry for her in a way, a God-fearing woman being surrounded by a bunch of evil, blasphemous deviants...but not THAT sorry. She's still boring. And giving up 5 HOH competitions for the chance at 1 POV? Silly girl. She's got 2 weeks max left in that house, and I have a feeling she won't really be missed.
Jessica - I don't know what she sees in America's player, but whatever, she's managed to get herself farther than anyone expected, so kudos to her. Stupid move this week not putting up Dick or Daniele, and she'll likely pay for that when she's the first person voted out of the final four, but even stupider was starting a reality showmance. She wouldn't have given Eric a second glance in the real world, but he's the house Adonis compared to Zach and Dick. Still, as America's player he's not able to be completely honest with her about strategy, and that fact is sure to hurt her in the long run. Again, boring.
Eric - Am I the only person who wants to crazy-glue his eyebrow in place, so that he can't raise it like the Joker from Batman every time he speaks? Nerd, nerd, nerd. Annoying? Oh yes. He drives me nuts. "America loves me!" Uhhh...are ya sure? Cause I beg to differ. The powers that be are doing what they can to keep him in the house, and it's a good thing, because I don't think he would have stayed by his own devices. And another thing: LAUGH WITH YOUR MOUTH OPEN! Every time he laughs, I get this premonition that snot is going to fly out of his nose. Watch him next time, it's irritating. He'll make it to the final four I think, but not because I want him to.
Amber - Too much. This girl is TOO MUCH!! "God bless you God." "I think when I leave the show I'm going to be America's Next Top Model." "I had a vision and God told me I was going to win the power of Veto." "Nobody wants to be in the final 2 with me because everyone loves me and I'm a threat in that way." I swear to you, I wish you could still get $50 bucks for admitting someone to the Butterscotch Palace, because I'd be a red bill richer. She's entertaining if nothing else, with all the sobbing and bible-thumping and modelling aspirations, ahhhh....*wiping tears of laughter*. She's probably going home this week, and good riddance, but her psychological volatility will be missed.
Daniele - Ladies and gentlemen, the winner of Big Brother 8. She deserves to win. She's kicked butt in the competitions (3 POVs and 2 HOHs), managed to evade the shadow of her father to an acceptable extent, and doesn't have as many enemies as one would think she should. Her and her father in the final 2 would ensure her the cash, but even against the others she's superior. Only my prediction, but an accurate one, I believe.
And that's it for now. The best part of this show is watching clips on YouTube with all the footage the producers don't want you to see. How contestants are coached in the diary room; how they influence houseguests as to who to nominate and evict; and how they play up the psychosis of the weak and weary to better the show's ratings. Ahh, reality tv at it's best. I don't think they've done a very good job of accentuating the Alice in Wonderland theme, so I hope there are more twists to come.
In any case, I'll be in front of the tv faithfully on Thursday night, as will all of you.
Plenty has happened since my last BB8 post; it's not AS boring as it was in the beginning, but I still hold firm to my assessment that this season isn't nearly as good as seasons past. That being said...
Joe "gracefully" left, Nick got the shaft, Kail finally got put out of her misery, Mike played stupid and was booted, Dustin had to pay by acting as the fall guy, and Jen was backdoored. What a wonderful world.
And then there were seven.
Dick - When did Dick get boring? Not a single abusive outburst or tirade since Jen left. It's amazing that he's still in the house, but I think he can thank the producers of BB for that, at least in part. They've been known to try to influence the guests in the Diary Room, and knowing that Dick is their biggest ratings draw in the house, they'd be reluctant to let him go. Anyway, as much as he's managed to turn this season's snorefest into a somewhat watchable spectacle, he's also turned into the biggest creep EVER. Could he be more eager to make out with his own daughter!?! His "congratulatory" hugs and kisses are really starting to weird me out, and the whole "I am your faaaathaa" routine isn't terribly believeable. "Daniele, take your vitamins." "Daniele, do you want to talk about our relationship?" "Daniele, do you need a hug?" No Dick, she doesn't need a hug, she needs you to leave her the eff alone, you gross her out on multiple levels. He used to make things interesting, he used to be very influential, but now he's the desperate old guy. He'll be here for at least another two weeks by my calculations, perhaps even until the final two.
Zach - I still haven't figured out what this guy is useful for, but I don't think he's as stupid as I did before. He comes off as a pretty intelligent guy in the diary room, and I guess he can't be THAT stupid if he outlasted so many others, but he's still just a floater to me. He's never won a single veto competition or HOH, even though he's played in almost every one, and he hasn't managed to nail down a solid alliance. Float float float Zach. He must be so bored! No friends, no conflict, no nothing. He's on the block this week, but he might just survive. Who knows, who cares. Zach is boring.
Jameka - Man, I laughed when the BB people started playing organ music every time Jameka speaks. Her "God is a gangster" speech was great, lotsa laughs in my house that night. I feel sorry for her in a way, a God-fearing woman being surrounded by a bunch of evil, blasphemous deviants...but not THAT sorry. She's still boring. And giving up 5 HOH competitions for the chance at 1 POV? Silly girl. She's got 2 weeks max left in that house, and I have a feeling she won't really be missed.
Jessica - I don't know what she sees in America's player, but whatever, she's managed to get herself farther than anyone expected, so kudos to her. Stupid move this week not putting up Dick or Daniele, and she'll likely pay for that when she's the first person voted out of the final four, but even stupider was starting a reality showmance. She wouldn't have given Eric a second glance in the real world, but he's the house Adonis compared to Zach and Dick. Still, as America's player he's not able to be completely honest with her about strategy, and that fact is sure to hurt her in the long run. Again, boring.
Eric - Am I the only person who wants to crazy-glue his eyebrow in place, so that he can't raise it like the Joker from Batman every time he speaks? Nerd, nerd, nerd. Annoying? Oh yes. He drives me nuts. "America loves me!" Uhhh...are ya sure? Cause I beg to differ. The powers that be are doing what they can to keep him in the house, and it's a good thing, because I don't think he would have stayed by his own devices. And another thing: LAUGH WITH YOUR MOUTH OPEN! Every time he laughs, I get this premonition that snot is going to fly out of his nose. Watch him next time, it's irritating. He'll make it to the final four I think, but not because I want him to.
Amber - Too much. This girl is TOO MUCH!! "God bless you God." "I think when I leave the show I'm going to be America's Next Top Model." "I had a vision and God told me I was going to win the power of Veto." "Nobody wants to be in the final 2 with me because everyone loves me and I'm a threat in that way." I swear to you, I wish you could still get $50 bucks for admitting someone to the Butterscotch Palace, because I'd be a red bill richer. She's entertaining if nothing else, with all the sobbing and bible-thumping and modelling aspirations, ahhhh....*wiping tears of laughter*. She's probably going home this week, and good riddance, but her psychological volatility will be missed.
Daniele - Ladies and gentlemen, the winner of Big Brother 8. She deserves to win. She's kicked butt in the competitions (3 POVs and 2 HOHs), managed to evade the shadow of her father to an acceptable extent, and doesn't have as many enemies as one would think she should. Her and her father in the final 2 would ensure her the cash, but even against the others she's superior. Only my prediction, but an accurate one, I believe.
And that's it for now. The best part of this show is watching clips on YouTube with all the footage the producers don't want you to see. How contestants are coached in the diary room; how they influence houseguests as to who to nominate and evict; and how they play up the psychosis of the weak and weary to better the show's ratings. Ahh, reality tv at it's best. I don't think they've done a very good job of accentuating the Alice in Wonderland theme, so I hope there are more twists to come.
In any case, I'll be in front of the tv faithfully on Thursday night, as will all of you.
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