Archive for October, 2008

I swear I cannot get the “one stop money shop check into cash!!” jingle out of my head. It’s odd that such a horrible business* has such a happy, innocuous tune. It’s sort of like having a sing-along ditty for heroin.

*Capitalist and Libertarian I may be, but I still think payday loan shops are predatory injurious to society.

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Wilford Brimley scares the crap out of me. He’s like the stern Earth Sciences teacher I had in middle school. I swear I’m going to call Liberty Mutual for my testing kit. Even though I don’t have diabetes.



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God occupies most of my thoughts these days. I’ve been in the part of my walk where I see God in every little thing, see God’s hands at work in the world and it gives me comfort and fear. I have comfort because I know that God owns the cattle on a thousand hills and weeps for the dying sparrow. This God who humbled himself by being human and submitting to death is not going to let us slip into the ether.

I feel fear because I know that I am no more worthy of the attentions of this God than the dirt in the gutter is worthy of my attention. And I know that I will one day be called to stand before God and answer for what I did with my time on earth in this body. I don’t think God will be satisfied with excuses, but excuses are all I have right now. I am tired beyond tiredness and I am having no effect on the world around me. People are still hungry and worried. I’ve done nothing to change that. Then again, I wonder how I can and I wonder if it is fair for God to ask me to keep pushing this rock up that hill.

We went to the Disney store on Saturday and I saw an outfit for a baby and it struck me deep in my chest. Ten years ago we would go there and see those outfits and think “someday!”. Now I see them and know that those particular somedays will not belong to me. I think of the neat little life I imagined for myself and I get angry at knowing it isn’t ever going to be that way. On the other hand when I look at the life I’ve got and see all the things I never imagined I realise that my finite imagination will never understand time and that richness is there in its own form apart from what I’ve created. I’m happy mostly, even though there are the times I am sad for what never occurred for me.

In many understandings of the spiritual world, the veil between this reality and a reality beyond us is more easily passed through during May and October. My beliefs lead me to understand that the sacrifice of Christ enables us to continually commune with that other reality, yet nevertheless I feel a louder sound from that other world in October. I feel myself talking with God. I only wish I could understand everything that God says.

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My other brother left a comment on my not-voting post last night. It was an okay comment except for one line which had me (figuratively) jumping up and down.

The first time I heard someone say they welcomed higher taxes as their patriotic duty I about fell out of the car we were riding in. Tina Marie was as broke as I was, since we worked at the same (low-paying) job and were carpooling. It was right before they elected Bill Clinton and she was telling me why she didn’t mind if he became president. The thinking seems to be that with the deficit growing then higher taxes will pay the country’s bills and we owe it to our children’s children or some such thing.

What I would like to know–and I’m sure others have asked this question, because it’s obvious–is why these folks who are so eager to have the government forcibly part them from their money don’t just go ahead and write up a check. Or buy a savings bond. Treasury bonds are a way you can voluntarily lend the government money. Anyone can do it. A lot of people prefer to invest that way because they see it as a less risky prospect than stocks. I personally don’t invest in corporations who have a forcible change in CEOs and corporate mission statements every 4-8 years. To me buying long-term Treasury bonds is like buying stock in IBM and having it roll over to Viacom or Disney, then switch back to IBM on a whim.

I do know that my brother buys savings bonds, so I will grant him that. But I do wonder about all this rah-rah for higher taxes. I wonder if all the people who support higher taxes gave back their stimulus checks. I wonder if they refuse to take deductions on their 1040s for their mortgage interest and their children. Because otherwise it smacks of wanting someone else to pay your bills for you.

I support tax cuts for the rich, because I know a lot of “the rich” personally. “The Rich” that I know are all business owners. I’ve seen them be able to hire three to ten more people for their businesses when the taxes are lower. I’ve also seen them lay off people when the taxes are higher. Because even though they’re “The Rich”, they still have a finite amount of money. They’ll either spend the money on growing their business or they’ll have it taken from them by force in order to feed the beast. So the years that “The Rich” pay more in taxes (woohoo! that’ll show those rich bastards!) are the years there are fewer jobs. I’ve actually seen it happen with my own eyes in my own workplaces. It’s not a rumour or a textbook story problem. It’s actual lives.

So if you’re superexcited about Obama’s (or anybody else’s) proposed taxcut rollbacks, just reconcile yourselves to higher unemployment. Oh, and please feel free to buy Treasury bonds and forego your annual deductions on your Income Tax. Put that money where your mouth is!

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I’ve been listening to a lot of podcasts on my treatment days. When all you can do is lie on your side and pray that the antinausea drug kicks in, podcasts are a great way to amuse yourself.

I’ve noticed something that is starting to bug a little.

In group podcasts there is always someone who has to repeat anything he says that gets a small laugh. If the other casters so much as mildly chuckle then the joke gets beat into the ground. Ugh

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I missed the last couple of Fridays because I just wasn’t inspired by any music out there. Well, that, and I actually forgot it was Friday.

This Friday I feel like rocking out. Whenever I feel like just rocking out shamelessly and loud, I inevitably turn to this song. It’s been that way for 25 years now. But just a few weeks ago I put it on the player and cranked it and started laughing when they got to one line–because it’s truer now than it’s ever been.

I DO have stiffness in my bones. But sometimes I gotta let it all hang out and make the rockin’ world go round!

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Election day is getting closer. Everywhere I turn people are rocking the vote, encouraging us to go to the polls. I was watching some show on the WE channel about making wedding cakes and they tell me they will sign me up to vote because of my vagina. (Apparently the Vagina Enabled People have been staying away from the polls in droves. If only we could tear ourselves away from Bridezillas long enough to be bothered! What idiots we are. Thank goodness for the WE channel who will register us to vote!!!)

I’ve been very open about not talking politics this time around. I’ve been open about my voting practice for this election. The fact that I refuse to cast a supporting vote for either Obama or McCain is quite distressing to my mother, but since she realises I’m kissing 40 I think she’s being more subtle in her entreaties. Her latest recommendation was that I read Chuck Colson’s latest essay in Christianity Today.

Chuck apparently has at least one thing in common with the WE channel because he also thinks I need to vote on Election Day. He quotes everything from Deuteronomy to Augustine to the founding fathers. His conclusion is that voting is my sacred duty. Not because of my vagina but because of my salvation.

I’ve been voting since I was 18. In fact, registering to vote was the first thing I did once I turned 18. I dreamed about it and looked forward to it. Like a lot of kids in the Reagan era, I fell in love with politics. Reagan and his surrounding handlers and speechwriters were the closest thing we’ve had in real life to the idealised Love Of America and Freedom politics last seen on The West Wing and it charged me. I majored in Politics, studied the Politburo and celebrated like a madwoman when they tore down the Berlin Wall. I am far from a political ignoramus.

That is why I’m voting this year. Yes, I AM voting.

By not voting for president. See, there are different kinds of “not voting”. There’s the I-Can’t-Be-Bothered-To-Give-A-Damn attitude where people don’t register, don’t care and spend all their voting energy picking Karaoke champions by texting the Fox network. Then there’s the kind of not voting I’m doing.

It’s the kind where you see what the candidates have to say. You stay away from the evening news and its lipsticked pigs and terrorist fist jabs, dig through websites, policy papers and dry pdfs about health care, economics and foreign policy. You hang out at think tanks and read up on the choices. You study and you realise that neither guy is really all that much into liberty, reducing government size and reducing government debt. You realise that both of your choices–even the one advanced by the party who supposedly believes in smaller government and lower taxes–are so cravenly eager to get their hands on the treasury and throw money at their favourite choices that you decide you are voting this year.

For neither of them.

I AM going to the polls. I am voting for other candidates in other races. But when it comes time to say who Katherine Coble wants in the big office she is going to write in Ron Paul or Thomas Jefferson. I will be on record as voting for President, but I will be on record as voting for the type of president I think we need. Not the type of president that the oligarchy thinks we should have. I’m voting not for president but for America.

That is my sacred duty and I’m fulfilling it as I see fit.

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Yesterday was a good day!

Pushing Daisies is back! The more I see this show the more I’m convinced it’s about the best thing on TV right now.

•I was able to get a huge break on our Disney trip. It is now $800 cheaper for the same travel plan. I promise you this…when it comes to working with WDW the best thing you can do is be polite, patient and persistent.

•My Rheumatologist worked it out so that I can have my biweekly (every two weeks…is that biweekly or bimonthly or semimonthly?) blood work done at the lab two minutes from my house instead of driving to his office in Bumfrak, er, Franklin.

That brings a big issue to mind. Please pardon the break in my “good news” post while my stream of consciousness interrupts. What is with all of the specialists in Nashville being in Bumfrak? Seriously, if you want a family doctor in Hermitage or Donelson or Goodlettsville or East Nashville, you’re probably okayish. But God forbid you should need a Neurologist or Cardiologist or any other kind of ologist. You’ve got to find a way to get yourself to (at best) the Centennial Park/Vanderbilt area downtown or (at worst) the Cool Springs/Franklin area. Now I KNOW that people of the lower rungs on the economic ladder get sick just the same (and probably more in some cases) than those in the posher districts. You’d think the doctors would go where the patients are. Instead they seem to prefer to work close to their homes which means you have to drive to them. When you’re already juggling knives over a pit of fire, which is what most serious illness feels like, driving hours to be seen is just not fun. Oh well. Chalk it up to one of those “Life isn’t fair” things and move on, I guess.

•I had a dream about a spider for about the fifth time in a week. Now I know that my spider dreams–and spider dreams in general–have to do with the Feminine. This spider in my dream last night had long silky blond female hair. It was a very pretty arachnid altogether. It was nice, unlike the fake John Cusack art film my subconscious made up for me to watch. It was some strange thing where John Cusack played an eccentric vagabond who found an old book about a heroic Spartan basketball player. Vagabond Cusack then wandered the earth to spread the good news about how Spartans played basketball. But since it was an art film the lip movements didn’t match the dialogue and everything was shot in a sepia tone. And while I watched the film I was making mud out of food and hair and dirt. And then the blonde spider showed up.

I wish there were some satisfactory conclusion to this dream, but unfortunately I woke up when my subconscious decided I needed to look something up on the Internet about Spore.

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I’m watching something on tv. Ok. I’m watching judge judy.


The case is about accessing some bank account.

Everyone involved has said “PIN number” about a dozen times so far.

I’m going to gouge out my eardrums.

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