If I should take a notion to jump into the ocean
Ain’t nobody’s business if I do. Billy Holiday
Follow the rules. Don’t rock the boat. Don’t ever think of yourself, only of others. Stay the course. Follow the mainstream. Work all your life only to retire and then spend the rest of your days in frantic search of some way to serve others, whether they want it or not. Think only the good of the collective we, even if you don’t quite understand who the we is.
Don’t ask questions. Never question authority. Never think of yourself or for yourself, this is the ultimate evil…so we are told. Believe what “they” say even if it doesn’t make any kind of logical sense. Who are we to struggle to understand the un-understandable? Let someone else do your thinking for you. Leave it to the experts. Let others tell you what to think and how to live. What right does one man or woman have to think that their individual silly little opinion matters? Spend every penny of someone else’s money for the collective good of humanity.
What trips me up is that often the very same kind of people who champion the right to life of an embryo will turn on you in a heartbeat if you assert your “right to life” after you are born. By right to life in this instance I mean the right to live my life in the manner of my own choosing. I am NOT asserting that it is anyone else’s responsibility to provide me with anything.
I’m on a rant today about the increasing amount of nanny laws that the some members of government are imposing on us…the USA…an allegedly free country. MY MONEY (taxes) is used to impose laws that are ridiculous, and let’s just call it what it is. They have no damned right to do it! Thou shalt not…smoke cigarettes, eat trans-fat, supersize thy soft drink, drink alcohol (oh wait, now it’s supposed to be good for us to drink in moderation) eat too much sugar, or park the “wrong” way in front of my own house.
I can see where some of this is coming from. Since 55% of our U.S. population is asserting that is a basic human right to have free healthcare, free running water, free heat, free everything, of course we should step in and tell people how to live. I don’t know what they are teaching kids in school today, but I’d bet money that no one tells them that there is no such thing as a free lunch. After all, someone is actually footing the bill – the ever shrinking percentage of people who are required to pay taxes. The funny part is that the part of the population that is paying for this “free” ride does not want this never ending stream of gratuitous and idiotic laws passed in the first place.
In my opinion there is a very small distinction between an armed robber and tax man. The robber says “give me all your money.” The tax man says “give me half you money…every day.” And if you have the unmitigated gall to make more money then you have to give me even more of your money…every day. If you don’t you’ll go to prison. Quite frankly, I’d rather get robbed; at least it’s over and done with. Furthermore, if I manage to elude the robber, they can’t take me to court and steal everything I own because I didn’t fork over my wallet.
Chivalry is not dead. It’s just re-purposed. :)
Originally posted on J.D. Gallagher:
‘I really am beginning to think that not only is chivalry dead but that chivalry is seen as some kind of insult,’ Jimmy declared.
‘Why?’ I asked.
‘This pretty young woman was incredibly rude to me yesterday. So you know what I did?’
‘Shouted misogynistic abuse at her while making a wanking gesture with your hand?’
‘No. I saw her walking towards me and decided to be the bigger man so I opened the door for her and all she could do was stare at me in complete horror and scream abuse at me as she was sucked out of the airplane.’
Between 2.3m and 2.4m Americans are behind bars, roughly one in every 100 adults. If those on parole or probation are included, one adult in 31 is under “correctional” supervision. As a proportion of its total population, America incarcerates five times more people than Britain, nine times more than Germany and 12 times more than Japan. article in the Economist (July 22, 2010) entitled “Too many laws, too many prisoners”
Yea that’s right you heard me. Our criminal justice system is careening off the rails at an alarming rate. America has so many laws that, according to civil-liberties lawyer Harvey Silverglate, the average American breaks an average of 3 laws a day. And we’re blissfully unaware of that fact.
Silverglate’s book Three Felonies a Day is at the top my reading list. From time to time I’ve posted lists of silly laws on the books of various states. 2 of my personal faves are 1) In Kansas City it’s illegal to drink beer out of a bucket while sitting on a curb. I mean really, who cares? 2) In Washington State it’s illegal to have sex in a shopping cart. My take on that is I don’t really care where or in what conveyance one chooses to have sex as long as I don’t have to see it. The making whoopee in a shopping cart sounds rather uncomfortable anyway. Is the purpose of this activity the result of our ever increasingly busy lives? Kill 2 birds with one stone, go shopping and please the significant other at the same time.
But in all seriousness (and I have a great deal of trouble being serious) what the hell is going on? It’s getting to the point where I am more afraid of the government than “criminal elements.” Statistically, my chances of getting a ticket or arrested are greater that getting mugged when I leave the house.
Enforcing laws selectively is another concerning aspect of this overabundance of laws in our country. A good example is the whole tax audit mess going on the news. Don’t like the political views of the opposition? Well audit them! That will show them who is boss! Trouble with this activity is that it can turn on a dime. One day you’re in, the next day you’re out.
You didn’t build that. Barack Obama
The “you didn’t build that” statement just chaps my grits. The more I think about it the more pissed off I get. The whole premise is high way robbery of intellectual and tangible property at the most insidious level. Pure Sophistry at it’s best or in this case worst. There are those who argue that the statement was taken out of context and that he didn’t really mean that literally. Well after reading the statement in context and thinking about more I am certain that is exactly what he meant. And I am outraged and don’t like it one bit!
It is a direct attack against the entrepreneurial spirit and willingness to put ones ideas and hard work, life savings, blood sweat and tears to make an idea come to life. The very back bone of what made our country great. Our ancestors came over to the New World and started doing exactly what Obama said that we didn’t do – building things. We built homes, farms, villages, trading posts, roads, factories, ferries, foundries, hospitals, golf courses, restaurants, department stores, automobiles, home appliances, bridges, railroads, airports and all the wonderful things that we enjoy every day of our lives. All of it started by an individual with an idea.
These accomplishments did not just spring out of the ground unbidden by some mysterious shared cosmic belch. One minute there is nothing and the next minute iron ore leaped out the ground, fired itself into steel and then sprang into the air to form a bridge. These things first came into being in a human mind, a man or woman, thought of these things, planned them out, assembled the raw materials and man power and brought them to life.
When our country came into being there was no “government funded or supervised” anything. Nothing, zilch, nada. Individual efforts, not a collective think tank of men out of touch with reality, brought into being whatever people thought needed to come into reality. Everything that existed in pre-America was privately owned. Things were brutally simple then. You work or you die. You plant crops to feed your family or you starve. Individual effort, work and accountability were the order of the day.
Want shoes for the horses and you know how to work iron? Open a black smith shop. If Obama or Elizabeth Warren went back in time and walked up to the owner of the blacksmith shop, or the grocery store, or a farmer and said “You didn’t build that,” the most likely result would be a punch in the nose, followed by a firm statement of “get out of town” or “go back Europe and live under a king’s rule. Go live under a feudal or socialist system where you cannot own the ground under your feet. Go live where you don’t even own the clothes on your back. Give everything you have earned to your lord and master. Let him decide who to reaps the benefits of the fruit of your labor. It won’t be you, that’s pretty much a guarantee. It will go to whoever whines the loudest.”
May you live in interesting times. Ancient Chinese curse
This past Tuesday my body decided that it wanted a total break from food and drink. The day started innocently enough. The sun shone, the birds sang and I went to my weekly art class. I started to feel a bit puny and gave up 30 minutes early to go home. Was feeling a bit crampy and gassy so I took what seemed to be appropriate meds. That didn’t help at all.
Hubby had a nice dinner planned. Pork chops, marinated tomatoes, and green beans. I ate this big dinner mainly because I was hungry and I thought that eating would sort of help push things on through, so to speak.
Well dammit if I wasn’t wrong, way wrong. The crampy feeling in my guts turned into shooting pains, then to agonizing pains. Then the party morphed into me hugging the commode and projectile vomiting. Things went downhill from there, if that’s even possible, and I progressed to lying in the bathroom floor perspiring and groaning. Then I completely lost it and was moaning and crying. At this point I decided that I needed professional help and asked Mr. Husband to call an ambulance.
He did and then also called his mother and the next door neighbor who is a retired nurse to come over. Now I have an audience. Yee Hah! I don’t blame him though. It must have been a terrifying sight to have his wife writhing around in the floor screeching like a banshee.
The ambulance came and took me away at what I thought was a rather leisurely pace. Things picked up bit when the pain got even worse. I started screaming bloody murder and begged Jesus to come and take me home. They turned on the siren and started to drive really fast, probably to drown out all the noise I was making.
At the hospital they had to use the old “Ma’am, you need to calm down so we can examine you” line. It didn’t go over well. It took 4 people to pry me out of the fetal position I was in to poke around on my belly. I wasn’t fighting them really, I just couldn’t straighten out on my own. They finally decided that it was safe to give me something for the pain and shot me full of happy juice. Things got a little better after that but I was in a complete fog when they shot me through a CT scanner, complete with dye and the whole nine yards.
The diagnosis was that I had a partial obstruction in my small intestine. For whatever reason the cosmos decided that my life was too dull and decided to tie my guts in a knot. The decision was that I be admitted to the hospital and have no food or drink for 2 days as a conservative treatment and an alternative to surgery. It’s amazing how much a one fantasizes about food and drink when not allowed to have any. Even the big sign on my hospital room door was a mockery. It was a big picture of a cheese burger with a red circle and a line through it. Every time the door opened so someone could stick pins in me and ask me how I felt, I saw that damned sign.
I got to imbibe liquid food after 2 days. Let me tell you, after an enforced fast, chicken broth, apple juice, and ginger ale tasted like nectar of Gods. It turns out that I was on poop watch. This means that I could not go home until they had tangible proof that my digestive track was functioning according to specs.
They evidently grew tired of waiting for nature to take its course and gave me some industrial strength laxative. It worked and sent me into another wild and crazy adventure in the bathroom that lasted the better part of 2 hours. I’ll spare you the details.
An unexpected result of this enforced purge was that my complexion took a turn for the better. My skin looked as smooth and unsullied as a baby’s bottom. I don’t recommend this approach though.
On Friday they let me go home. I must eat a soft, low fiber diet, for 2 weeks. Oh well, at least I look good. That’s got to count for something…right?