Springsteen Proves It All Night in NOLA
I’ve stalked Bruce Springsteen, no lie. I’ve had the man tell me to get out of his face. That was in 1984, and over the years, I’ve tempered my Bruce obsession. I may be a little nutty, but when a man tells me to get out of his face, well, a nutty lady always knows when to leave.
However, I may have to start stalking Bruce again. By all accounts, his performance at the New Orleans Jazz Festival reminded me of why I loved this guy’s music. He is a hit-the-nail-on-the head songwriter, and a musician with his own obsessions: the little guy with the big troubles.
So it is fitting that he dedicated one song, “How Can a Poor Man Stand Such Times and Live,” to “President Bystander.”
President Bystander? Why didn’t I think of that? I don’t know if this is a name Bruce came up with or if people have been calling W that since Katrina, but it is very fitting. I was thinking just this weekend how every single one of my relatives who lived in New Orleans has left. The place I always thought of as my second hometown is now a place where if I visit, it won’t be to see family. I don’t blame Bush for that, but I still get angry when I think of him playing his guitar in San Diego while the people who didn’t or couldn’t get out were stranded and pleading for help. I remember someone I know saying, “Well, I heard They were waiting for their welfare checks and that is why They didn’t leave.” Well, if I had to depend on a freaking welfare check I might wait around, too. After all, as W claims, no one knew the disaster would be this bad – granted, the word disaster implies bad.
By the way, I know I’m supposed to be taking a blog break while I travel for work, but I’m home for a few days, and after reading about Bruce and President Bystander, I just had to check in and sound off.
April 30, 2006
April 23, 2006
Myself, Always Behaving Badly
On a good day, I cannot tolerate the porn mail I get in my junk email. On a bad day, I try to filter out these sites, or I blog about them. Actually, today is not a bad day. It’s beautiful outside but cold for Vegas in April. Is this a by-product of global warming or just . . . what? I’ve never been an expert on anything, much less the weather. I am, however, getting a slight thrill that in one paragraph I’ve mixed porn and the environment. Excuse me, but that takes skill.
Young officers are jumping on the “Fire Rumsfeld” bandwagon. Even The Donald pussyfooted around the subject. TomKat had their spawn, a sure sign the end is near. Ben and Jerry had to apologize to the Irish, the one nation it is hard to piss off (unless you are British). Closer to home, Psychic HR at my office is bragging that she is doing charity work on behalf of a 15-year old cancer patient in order to cheer him up, and she's bragging about this in front of him. And yes, my boss Chickpea is still lusting after the hobag in Support.
All over the world, from the Internet, to Ireland, to Rumsfeld and my office, people behaved badly.
All this reminds me of my grandma, because she tried to raise me right. Wow, either she did a terrible job or I’m a pathetic learner. Here’s a thought I would never have had ten years ago: maybe Grandma was not a good teacher. I don’t believe that, but seeing how bad most parents I know now are, I should consider the possibility. I’ve also considered the fact that even though I blog about people behaving badly, maybe no one behaves worse than I do. Oh hell, there is always the Gastineau Girls.
I’ll ponder this for the next 3 weeks while I take a blog break. My day job is sending me to Disney World for a cruel, cruel conference, then I’m off to Taipei, Hong Kong, and Shanghai. I’ll return mid-May, my hips a bit fatter, my mind fatigued, and the muscles between my shoulders a tight knot. My massage therapist will wonder what I've been doing and why I'm such a mess.
"I've been traveling," I'll tell her. "I'm stressed," I'll say. "It's my job. It's just life."
She'll sigh, thinking "how 'bout you just shut up?"
She'll dig her thumb into that spot between two resistant muscles behind my left shoulder blade.
"Take a deep breath," she'll tell me. Sad, bad music will play softly from her CD player, and the ducks playing in the man- made lake outside her office will quack. They are happy to be in the desert, a place ducks and water don't belong. I'll go home and check my email. "Horny Housewives" will be in my spam folder, waiting to be deleted.
What will the news be by then? I’m afraid to ask. Hopefully, it will be dull. The only thing I can count on is that between now and the time I return from Asia, I will encounter someone behaving badly. With a little luck, that someone will be me.
Young officers are jumping on the “Fire Rumsfeld” bandwagon. Even The Donald pussyfooted around the subject. TomKat had their spawn, a sure sign the end is near. Ben and Jerry had to apologize to the Irish, the one nation it is hard to piss off (unless you are British). Closer to home, Psychic HR at my office is bragging that she is doing charity work on behalf of a 15-year old cancer patient in order to cheer him up, and she's bragging about this in front of him. And yes, my boss Chickpea is still lusting after the hobag in Support.
All over the world, from the Internet, to Ireland, to Rumsfeld and my office, people behaved badly.
All this reminds me of my grandma, because she tried to raise me right. Wow, either she did a terrible job or I’m a pathetic learner. Here’s a thought I would never have had ten years ago: maybe Grandma was not a good teacher. I don’t believe that, but seeing how bad most parents I know now are, I should consider the possibility. I’ve also considered the fact that even though I blog about people behaving badly, maybe no one behaves worse than I do. Oh hell, there is always the Gastineau Girls.
I’ll ponder this for the next 3 weeks while I take a blog break. My day job is sending me to Disney World for a cruel, cruel conference, then I’m off to Taipei, Hong Kong, and Shanghai. I’ll return mid-May, my hips a bit fatter, my mind fatigued, and the muscles between my shoulders a tight knot. My massage therapist will wonder what I've been doing and why I'm such a mess.
"I've been traveling," I'll tell her. "I'm stressed," I'll say. "It's my job. It's just life."
She'll sigh, thinking "how 'bout you just shut up?"
She'll dig her thumb into that spot between two resistant muscles behind my left shoulder blade.
"Take a deep breath," she'll tell me. Sad, bad music will play softly from her CD player, and the ducks playing in the man- made lake outside her office will quack. They are happy to be in the desert, a place ducks and water don't belong. I'll go home and check my email. "Horny Housewives" will be in my spam folder, waiting to be deleted.
What will the news be by then? I’m afraid to ask. Hopefully, it will be dull. The only thing I can count on is that between now and the time I return from Asia, I will encounter someone behaving badly. With a little luck, that someone will be me.
April 21, 2006
Losing Friends and Annoying People
Why do some people want to be disliked? I’m referring specifically to the strange phenomena of one person purposely trying to push another one’s buttons.
The other day, I was having lunch with some co-workers. I was joined by Miss Paris, whom I’ve written about before, and “Hank,” named changed to protect me.
Hank annoys Miss Paris, and to some extent, me. He likes to make a loud nonsensical noise in public. The closest thing it sounds like is a nanny goat asking “huh?”
He also likes to discuss the bathroom habits of Chickpea, our boss.
Sometimes, when we ride with him in his SUV, he likes to honk his horn for no reason, other than it annoys Miss Paris. I just think he’s a jackass and shrug it off. However, Miss Paris and I have both recently decided never to ride with again, and the other day at lunch, we took a separate car from him. I know, that wasn’t very green of us — especially these days.
At lunch, Hank began doing discussing the bathroom habits of chickpea. Miss Paris showed disdain and politely told him to shut-up. His face lit up. He was happy that he was annoying Miss Paris, so he kept doing it. I quickly asked someone else at the table a question, promptly forcing a change of subject.
Hank knows that these things he does annoy Miss Paris, so he does them. On purpose.
A friend of mine from my hometown in Mississippi used to side off against me each year at the Ole Miss vs. Miss. State “Egg Bowl.” I liked Ole Miss and think about as highly of Miss. State as I do of that gray-haired spasmo on American Idol (my guilty pleasure, I’m ashamed to admit). Anyway, this year, my pal confessed that she only rooted for Miss. State to “piss me off.” I looked at her and said, “Why would you do that? Why would you want to make someone lose respect for you?”
I would like to think it made her think. I would like to think that this post will make everyone reading it think. Why would anyone purposely try to annoy someone else? You might find it amusing, but they find you annoying, and ultimately, they like you less. Is that the goal of people behaving badly? To be hated? Here I’ve been blaming it on bad parents, poor manners and the W administration – okay, I reserve the right to keep blaming them – but maybe it all boils down to poor self-esteem. The annoying person thinks they are worthless and they need to validate that feeling.
Nah. They just suck, that’s all.
The other day, I was having lunch with some co-workers. I was joined by Miss Paris, whom I’ve written about before, and “Hank,” named changed to protect me.
Hank annoys Miss Paris, and to some extent, me. He likes to make a loud nonsensical noise in public. The closest thing it sounds like is a nanny goat asking “huh?”
He also likes to discuss the bathroom habits of Chickpea, our boss.
Sometimes, when we ride with him in his SUV, he likes to honk his horn for no reason, other than it annoys Miss Paris. I just think he’s a jackass and shrug it off. However, Miss Paris and I have both recently decided never to ride with again, and the other day at lunch, we took a separate car from him. I know, that wasn’t very green of us — especially these days.
At lunch, Hank began doing discussing the bathroom habits of chickpea. Miss Paris showed disdain and politely told him to shut-up. His face lit up. He was happy that he was annoying Miss Paris, so he kept doing it. I quickly asked someone else at the table a question, promptly forcing a change of subject.
Hank knows that these things he does annoy Miss Paris, so he does them. On purpose.
A friend of mine from my hometown in Mississippi used to side off against me each year at the Ole Miss vs. Miss. State “Egg Bowl.” I liked Ole Miss and think about as highly of Miss. State as I do of that gray-haired spasmo on American Idol (my guilty pleasure, I’m ashamed to admit). Anyway, this year, my pal confessed that she only rooted for Miss. State to “piss me off.” I looked at her and said, “Why would you do that? Why would you want to make someone lose respect for you?”
I would like to think it made her think. I would like to think that this post will make everyone reading it think. Why would anyone purposely try to annoy someone else? You might find it amusing, but they find you annoying, and ultimately, they like you less. Is that the goal of people behaving badly? To be hated? Here I’ve been blaming it on bad parents, poor manners and the W administration – okay, I reserve the right to keep blaming them – but maybe it all boils down to poor self-esteem. The annoying person thinks they are worthless and they need to validate that feeling.
Nah. They just suck, that’s all.
April 18, 2006
Rumsfeld Reloaded
I wish I knew who to credit for this photo, but I found it on a Google Search. It seems most appropriate given W's "I'm the defender of the Rumsfeld defense" defense, and Rumsfeld's "What? Me worry?" attitude. Meanwhile, retired generals are meeting in some officers' lounge, drinking beer and wondering how the fire turned on them.
April 16, 2006
Hey! I Hated W Before You Did
These days, I’m hearing a lot about “these days.” It seems rampant on TV shows in particular. You hear lines like, “these days, people don’t have a lot to be happy about.” Or, “People are angry these days.” A yoga magazine I read even said something about “these days,” in a recent article, where a yoga instructor was lamenting that her students are feeling frustrated about the state of the nation “these days.”
Please. Enough with these days. Something like 70% of the country now hates Bush and his administration. To that steadfast 30% I have something to say: Well, I may disagree with you, but when the going gets tough, at least you stick to your guns.
Before you swallow your tongue and wonder if ol’ Binx is recanting everything nasty she ever said about Bush, never fear. I hate the man and for the life of me, I can’t figure out why anyone voted for him, much less would still support him, but I find it refreshing when people have convictions, much less stick to them, no matter how much I disagree with said convictions or think those people are nuts.
What I want is for the people who voted for Bush, and who now regret it, to freaking apologize and take some responsibility for their negligence. People who vote Republican just for the sake of voting Republican are just as bad as someone who votes Democrat for the sake of being Democrat. Seriously, the only reason to vote Democrat is to beat the Republicans. Oh come on, I’m having some fun.
The situation our country finds itself in “these days,” is not just W’s fault, or Cheney’s. Okay, it’s mainly the former-evil genius Rove’s fault, but that’s not my point. If you voted for Bush, you have only yourself to blame. So instead of bitching about how awful he is (hello, that is so pre-Katrina) get involved in the political process, learn the facts and next time, try to vote better. Which won’t be hard since anyone is better than what we’ve got.
My husband, who is a Republican-in-denial (he just won’t admit it) would like for me to add the following, though he could have voted against Bush in the last election as now is a little late to be bitching about W. Here’s what he says: “All this money we are spending on the War in Iraq is forcing the banks to raise interest rates and hurting the middle-class.”
Hell, I don’t know if hubby is right, I only know that I need him to go mow the lawn and paint the baseboards in the house. But since he’s suddenly jumped on the “Bush is an arrogant failure” bandwagon, I thought I’d pass the message along. Now that I think of, he hasn’t apologized for not voting for Kerry.
Oh, dear. Hubby is still ranting as I blog this. Something about if Congress really reported to the people, they would impeach these “GD idiots.” Okay, now he’s sipping his tequila so I think he’s okay. I’ll sign off for today.
April 11, 2006
When Republicans Really Are Nazis
I have one distinct honor. I am the only person who lived in San Francisco that ever got admonished for calling Republicans “Nazis.” Usually, people in SF are given honors for saying such things (I kid my favorite town). But I have a great habit of being in the wrong place at Republican times. It happened at work one day, right after the 2000 election. I recall the moment with clarity. I was on the 17th floor of the financial institution where I worked, debating the Florida recount with some of my co-workers, who happened to be Nazis. I meant Republicans, sorry. Really, I’m joking. Anyway, one of them said something about the “old Jews” in South Florida being “morons,” and I replied, in the heat of the moment, “what are you -- a Nazi?”
That’s the true story, but legend has it that I said, “Republicans are Nazis,” and frankly, I get why people would say that I say that. It sounds like something that would pop out of my mouth when I'm mad.
Anyway, a Republican got all mad and blew me in to HR where I promptly was scolded. That’s the only time, amazingly enough, that I’ve been turned into HR, and I’m sorry to say it wasn’t for something grander, like sexual harassment or fudging on my expense report. This post might be more interesting if that had been the case, right?
As it turns out, Republicans are Nazis! At least one is. According to the Montana Standard, Shawn Stuart, 24, who is running for the House District 76 Spot is Butte’s sole Republican candidate. Not only that, he’s Butte’s only Republican candidate for any office. Stuart is also Montana’s main man for the National Socialist Movement, which describes itself as “America’s Nazi Party.”
John Eyde, head of Butte’s Republican Central Committee, had no comment when told of Stuart’s affiliation. However, earlier in the week, he said the committee was “familiar with him” and that Stuart has been to central committee meetings, but the local party did not endorse him or recruit him to run.
That’s the true story, but legend has it that I said, “Republicans are Nazis,” and frankly, I get why people would say that I say that. It sounds like something that would pop out of my mouth when I'm mad.
Anyway, a Republican got all mad and blew me in to HR where I promptly was scolded. That’s the only time, amazingly enough, that I’ve been turned into HR, and I’m sorry to say it wasn’t for something grander, like sexual harassment or fudging on my expense report. This post might be more interesting if that had been the case, right?
As it turns out, Republicans are Nazis! At least one is. According to the Montana Standard, Shawn Stuart, 24, who is running for the House District 76 Spot is Butte’s sole Republican candidate. Not only that, he’s Butte’s only Republican candidate for any office. Stuart is also Montana’s main man for the National Socialist Movement, which describes itself as “America’s Nazi Party.”
John Eyde, head of Butte’s Republican Central Committee, had no comment when told of Stuart’s affiliation. However, earlier in the week, he said the committee was “familiar with him” and that Stuart has been to central committee meetings, but the local party did not endorse him or recruit him to run.
April 06, 2006
Finding the Me in Plamegate
Oh dear. Karl Rove, who hasnt' been much help to W lately, is going to have a really tough time fixing the cowboy prez' latest scandal. The news today (in case you live in a cave) is that Bush and Cheney authorized Cheney's top aide to "launch a counterattack of leaks against administration critics on Iraq by feeding intelligence information to reporters."
On a seemingly unrelated note, I have a fantasy of how to handle my office's own scandal at work, our version of Plamegate. I'd like to drop a note in the office's suggestion box, that reads: "Will our boss and the young Ho in production just Do It and get it over with? We're all tired of seeing her walk around in inappropriate club clothes and watching him salivate with even more inappropriate desire."
Nothing is more pathetic tha a bald, fat man with lizard eyes in heat over a puppy-faced, JLo-assed child thirty years his junior. Actually, there is one exception: a pious born-again cowboy president with a 'get-out-of-my-sandbox' mentality. Will W get his due? Probably not. Still, am I enjoying his bad press? Oh yes.
On a seemingly unrelated note, I have a fantasy of how to handle my office's own scandal at work, our version of Plamegate. I'd like to drop a note in the office's suggestion box, that reads: "Will our boss and the young Ho in production just Do It and get it over with? We're all tired of seeing her walk around in inappropriate club clothes and watching him salivate with even more inappropriate desire."
Nothing is more pathetic tha a bald, fat man with lizard eyes in heat over a puppy-faced, JLo-assed child thirty years his junior. Actually, there is one exception: a pious born-again cowboy president with a 'get-out-of-my-sandbox' mentality. Will W get his due? Probably not. Still, am I enjoying his bad press? Oh yes.
April 05, 2006
Don't Snub the Snubster
If blogs could fall in love with other blogs, Lablogda may be spooning for Snubster. Here's a site that calls itself the antisocial networking website.
According to an article in Wired, Snubster members, by contrast to your typical social-networking website, focus on what irritates them. Targets of discontent include individuals (President Bush is a popular pick), groups (guys who talk at urinals) and things (bologna). Besides storing lists, the site has a tool for sending an e-mail to someone newly added to a list to tell them why they're being snubbed.
Not surprisingly, after I did a quick read of the site, sure enough, I noticed a lot of people had at the top of their "on-alert" or "dead-to-me" site a certain unpopular president. What the article didn't mention is jackhammers. Don't ask questions, just visit the site.
According to an article in Wired, Snubster members, by contrast to your typical social-networking website, focus on what irritates them. Targets of discontent include individuals (President Bush is a popular pick), groups (guys who talk at urinals) and things (bologna). Besides storing lists, the site has a tool for sending an e-mail to someone newly added to a list to tell them why they're being snubbed.
Not surprisingly, after I did a quick read of the site, sure enough, I noticed a lot of people had at the top of their "on-alert" or "dead-to-me" site a certain unpopular president. What the article didn't mention is jackhammers. Don't ask questions, just visit the site.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)