Today during my physical therapy, I was in 'curtained room #1', and while my therapist was doing some manual techniques to decrease the effects of Erb's Palsy in my right arm, we overheard an interesting conversation:
The furry little physical therapist that does the 'dry needling' (related to acupuncture) is a Queens English speaking, Kippah (yarmulke)-wearing Orthodox Jewish man. This fella was in the next curtained-off area, 'dry needling' a patient.
Made obvious by their conversation, this patient had previous inside information pertaining to the Jewish therapist's private life. The patient asks, "Can I ask you a personal question?" The therapist answers, "You sure can!" The patient continues with, "Are you going to get Eric (the therapist's 3 yr old son) a CHRISTMAS present?"
Without making a sound, I looked into my therpist's face, and simultaneously we rolled our eyes in disbelief.
The Jewish therapist patiently but firmly answers the patient, "No, but Eric did get lots of Hanukkah presents!"
The patient replies... "Oh...uh.... Yeah."
Does the patient think the Orthodox Jewish therapist is wearing that small cap on his head to prevent sunburn (in the middle of a snowy, winter day) on his bald spot? GEEZ!
Some folk honestly don't bother to learn (or to care about!) the customs of those in the world around them. Hanukkah is NOT "a Jewish Christmas". There is no such thing. Jewish people do no believe in the New Testament *at all*, therefore, they do not acknowledge the birth or death of Christ.
Those people that believe their own religion is the "end all - be all" to all religions on the planet are the very definition of "ethnocentric".
I present the facts before I 'let the music play' (The music follows below...I promise!)
I know that as least some portion of the world believes that today, December 20, 2012, is our last full 24 hour period together on planet Earth (in a cohesive form.)
(Over the course of history, there has been *many* predictions made as to the precise end of our existence, and as of this writing, I can attest that they have all been false, and they are pumped-up by attention-seeking alarmists that should perhaps seek more useful ways to use their most valuable non-renewable resource: Time.
Most of the percentage of believers in this latest Mayan Doomsday prediction is in the United States, and not in Mexico (more specifically, the mountainous regions of the Sierra Madre to the semi-arid plains of northern Yucatán.)
A word to the wise: ** IF NASA, OR ANY OTHER VALID, SCIENTIFICALLY-BASED AGENCY SCREAMS, "RUN! DUCK! TAKE COVER!", PLEASE DO NOT HESITATE TO DO SO!"
**THOSE** PEOPLE KNOW WHAT THEY ARE TALKING ABOUT!
As Kenny Rogers sings, "You've got to know when to hold them, know when to fold them, know when to walk away - know when to RUN!"
Therein lies all the difference: Knowing who you should believe, and who should be ignored.
THE MUSIC:
For those of you that remain persistent that we are all going to perish, these are just a few of the songs that I would select for you to listen to during your big "Outro": (In no particular order:)
Great Gig In The Sky - Pink Floyd
This song has been billed as the greatest non-lyrical vocal in all of music history - period. (not a play on words!)
The following paragraph is the only true verbal lyric in the entire song. Nobody - and I mean nobody - but Clare Torry can do this song justice. Her gut-wrench, heart-breaking vocal has stood the test of time:
"And I am not frightened of dying, any time will do, I Don't mind. Why should I be frightened of dying? There's no reason for it, you've gotta go sometime." "I never said I was frightened of dying."
(If I ever need a good cry, Clare Torry is always willing to give me a good boost!)
Let's lighten the mood a bit. At 1:13, this 747 leaves the tarmac. You MUST watch the synchronized video! Of all people to give me inspiration, I never thought Jerry Springer's rock opera would provide any inspirational fodder.
(Caution: Even though the message in this song is FANTASTIC, Do NOT play this song in the vicinity of small children, or while you are in a cubicle in a quiet office!)
If you don't have "Boogie in your butt" by the time you get half-way through this song, then perhaps you should have your butt checked at the nearest Urgent Care clinic:
I JUST WANNA DANCE - ALISON JIEAR (Jerry Springer's Opera) (If I ever need a good cry, Clare Torry is always willing to give me a good boost!)
Let's lighten the mood a bit. At 1:13, this 747 leaves the tarmac. You MUST watch the synchronized video! Of all people to give me inspiration, I never thought Jerry Springer's rock opera would provide any inspirational fodder.
(Caution: Even though the message in this song is FANTASTIC, Do NOT play this song in the vicinity of small children, or while you are in a cubicle in a quiet office!)
If you don't have "Boogie in your butt" by the time you get half-way through this song, then perhaps you should have your butt checked at the nearest Urgent Care clinic:
Fanfare For The Common Man / Marsden's Lament mash-up Changing gears again, this is a 'mash-up' of "Fanfare for Common Man (played by Keith Emerson on a $50,000 Yamaha synthesizer!) and the theme to Warehouse 13, "Marsden's Lament" - which I have recently learned to play on the piano...
The photography is my own.....
Last on this list, but by no means the ENTIRE list,A good-ole Classic Rock standard:The Doobie Brothers: Listen To The Music
(Listen to the lyrics, and feel the music....they tell the entire story....)
Honest Injun, if I'm 'lyin', I'm dyin' - send my soul to Hell:
If there is anybody out there that gives a crap, can you please see to it - honestly - that every one of these songs are played at my Memorial Service? (Throw in a Tony Monaco jazz organ tune, too!)
(BTW.... I'll see ya'll on Saturday, Dec 22, 2012!)
About waking up on the 22nd: I one short word, I will look at the "Mayan believers" and say, "Idiot!" and then walk a way. The explanation: Because I *KNOW* that all the people on my FB Friends List are intelligent, diligent people and that they are willing to expend the energy required to do their own homework, rather than live lazy lives by cheating off their dumb neighbor's paper in the classroom of life, I can rest assured that none of them will believe the "Mayan" crap that is bobbing down the current mainstream like a turd floating along in a sewage ditch. Because my informed friends used their most non-renewable resource (time!) more wisely than wasting braincells playing Angry Birds (or watching and believing everything they see on *ALL* reality TV shows (American Idol, X-Factor, Big Brother, Survivor, just to name a few), I know that these friends would have completed their homework early by learning that the Mayans calendar and the modern Gregorian Calendar (the one you use today) were very different, indeed. One major consideration would be Leap Year. The Mayans did not know, nor did they care about Leap Year. If you account for an extra day every 4 years, by the Mayan's calendar, the world should have 'ended' in August, 2011. I am typing this blog on Dec. 17, 2012, and just with a mere glance out my office window, I can see a wintry, dreary - but nonetheless, still present! - world out there. A note to the "Survivalists" out there. (I can't believe we actually have a name for them now!): "The Sandy Hook shooter lived with his mother at her house in Sandy Hook, 5 miles from the elementary school. She was a gun enthusiast who, according to an acquaintance, often took her two sons to a local shooting range. According to her former sister-in-law, Marsha Lanza, Nancy stayed home to take care of Adam. Marsha Lanza also recalled that Nancy was a "survivalist", and had turned her home into "a fortress" in which she was stockpiling guns and food to prepare for what she believed was an apocalyptic event associated with impending economic collapse." OK. OK. In my humble opinion, if a person (the shooter's mother) is goon enough to have an 'armed fortress' around a mentally ill person, AND train him how to shoot people, then she, indeed, earned the shot in the face that she received. (Contrary to popular belief, the shooter's mother was NOT a teacher at this school, nor did she have any connection to the school.) As for shooting small, innocent, defenseless children and several other people who were trying to educate this country's youth: I honestly hope this shooter AND his mother has to answer for each and every soul that was taken on Dec. 14. If I had a choice in the matter, their 'holding cell' until that final court day would be an extra hot place in Hell, with an occasional pop or crackle coming from the hot embers.
It is perfectly acceptable to hope and pray that Evil burns in Hell:
As a GREAT example, Dr. William Petit Jr and his murdered family (Google it - they're from Connecticut, too!) This man's family was murdered, and he was left for dead during a hideous robbery. When Oprah asked him if he was willing to forgive the men that did this crime to his family, Dr. Petit answered her: "Since it is inherent in the human constitution to hate evil, any forgiveness for these people is "inappropriate." Oprah said one thing in response to this answer to her question, "That is a very good answer!"
As ironic as it seems, the "survivalists" - whose intention was to preserve life - are now doing the killing.
Where is my Habba Syndrome when I need it? Last night, I made myself suddenly aware that at some unknown time during the day, I lost a tooth in my top denture ... again. (This particular smile is 8 yrs overdue to be replaced, so I can't blame the teeth or the workmanship. They're just old - but fantastically beautiful. Another set is $2,200 out of my pocket AND the bite will be different. I want THIS smile, not a high priced smile that does nothing for me - if you know what I mean. Those of you that have experienced this deal will know that if you ever loose a tooth in a denture while you are eating, the next bite will feel and sound like you bit down on a rock. It is unmistakable. For whatever reason, I didn't get that important clue, and I honestly think I inadvertently swallowed the tooth! I do have a spare set of teeth, and I will be wearing those tomorrow when I go do the familiar routine to get these fixed. The color and fit of my spare set is great. I couldn't ask for better. BUT...they are small, 'dentury', and they give me an unappreciated under-bite. I absolutely love the big, Chicklet smile that my daily-wear set gives me. If you know what Habba Syndrome is, you will understand why this is the only time in my entire life that it would come in handy. I get to make an impromptu, unscheduled visit to my dentist's office tomorrow. I won't even touch the dentist's chair. They will put my plate in a box, charge me $80, and I will take the box and drive myself to the dental lab, so I can get them returned to me the same day. Habba Syndrome....help me now! he he
I suppose it's a small, personal triumph, really. Since August (2012), I have been battling a flare-up of Psoratic Arthritis. While it is true that a common site for this type of arthritis is the hands, the neck (cervical spine) is the second favorite site on the list. If you have a pain in the knee, for example, you can often sit down to give your knee(s) a break. Without both permenant and detrimental consequences, it's much more difficult to take the pressure off of your neck, if you know what I mean (only in literature and movies can a character survive with no head attached!) Anywho, as I was growing up, because she simply didn't want to expend the time nor energy to deal with the matter at hand (and she still doesn't, as far as that is concerned), my mother would give me the 'brush off' by telling me that my extreme joint discomfort was 'growing pains.' You must know beforehand, dear reader, that my maximum adult height is 5'4". While I am reasonably intelligent enough to intrinsically know that "You should never try to teach a pig to sing. It will only waste your time, and annoy the pig!", contrary to popular belief, I am more optimistic than the average person in my SMALL inner circle would have you to believe. The eternal girl scout that is trapped inside my little gimpy body will never stop fighting to win the world over.
In response to my mother telling me that my pains are 'only growing pain', I would tell her "I know that the average person walking down the street doesn't feel the same pain that I am feeling. If that were the case, #1) the murder rate would be considerably higher, and #2) If these aches were 'growing pains', then I should be 8 feet tall! Since I am NOT 8 ft. tall, these are not 'growing pains'." By professional license, I am a nurse. I have been an LPN since 1994. My physical therapist has 6 yrs. of college under her young belt, and a year and a half of job experience. I told her the 'growing pains' story, and, also knowing my (lack of) good family history, she laughed and said, "There is no such thing as 'growing pains', and you are right - your pain has always been from both traumatic arthritis..." (my right foot is a different volume of books, in itself), and she continued with "The majority of your pain is most likely linked directly to Psoratic Arthritis.." Even though a true and accurate diagnosis by professionals who are doing their jobs, rather than from mothers that could have done considerably better at their job (and I am truly being kind by 'leaving it at that'), this disclosure is not the victory at hand that I am celebrating. Back to August 2012: The next 2 paragraphs are a brief history, which may be skipped, if you so desire: I am a Medicare patient, and I have chosen Essence Health Care as a Medicare replacement plan. Essence is available only to local St. Louis area residents. It costs me no more than the ordinary original Medicare Part B plan, and I get Part D (drugs / medication) free. Don't misunderstand me. I do have a tiered co-pay on my medications, but the addition of Part D, itself, is free with Essence. Eight years ago, the truly wonderful Dr. Sandra Hoffman (Rheumatologist / Internist) x-rayed me from my neck to my toes. She said the psoriatic arthritis has affected many of my joints, and it - back in 2004 - it had already fused my neck, and that my back was getting bad, too. Dr. Sandra wrote me a prescription for Celebrex (which was easily covered by the insurance that I had at that time. Remember, I had degenerative disease process (arthritis) 8 years ago. Degenerative diseases don't get better over time. They do what they say they do: They degenerate - they get worse! In January, 2012, I was required by Essence to have a Dr.'s exam, and a 'wellness' visit. Considering that I am a nurse, and I have been a patient, for one reason or another, for my entire life, I REALLY do like to let as much time pass between visits to a Dr.'s office as possible. With those considerations, even though this was officially a 'Wellness', by the time I force myself to spend the time, the money and the frustration of going to a Dr's appointment, I positively have real and necessary reasons to see him. Translated: Rather than paying him a co-pay to walk into a Dr's office and say, "Hey, how you doin'? My name is Michael J Keller. It's good to see you!" (Then walk out of the office), I am also in his office to receive treatment for a medical condition that has most likely been bugging me for days, weeks or usually - years. This Dr's office was only 2 miles from my home. When I walked into the tiny waiting room, I noted that by at least 25 - 30 yrs, I was the youngest patient in the room. (I'm 44). Because...uh... I do not look an ordinary boring citizen AND I am not in in the average age bracket of a Social Security / Medicare patient, AND I was, by several decades, the youngest patient in the room, the proverbial red flag flew up in front of my face, and started flapping about furiously in the wind - so to speak. A second warning light flickered on when I was taken back to an examination room by the nurse. This particular office also an Essence-provided Nurse Practitioner. This person served as a 'middleman' (middle woman, in this case), and as a link between the Dr's office, and Essence, itself. This middleperson came in to the room and took my lengthy, gimpy medical history. Me - the patient - had to explain to her the definitions of both Erb's Palsy and Habba Syndrome (We're not even talking about my right foot. Again, another book for a different day.) A few minutes after Miss Middleperson left the room, the Dr. came in to do his examination.
After he shook my hand and introduced himself, he happily and proudly exclaimed, "I hear you're our distinguished and honored guest today!"
I live in Ladue, MO, AND I know how I look when I am in public spaces:
99% of the time, my beard is ALWAYS in it's "up style", which requires occasional hair color, hair mousse, a comb, LOTS of hairspray, and considerable time using a carefully aimed hair dryer. I wearing either one of my hand knit hats or more likely than not, I am wearing the fantastic creation you see in the picture at the top of this blog. With a good amount of certainty I am relatively certain that this Steampunk / Western combo hat it the only one like it in the St. Louis area. I also wear a hand made choker made from heavy hardware (honestly - hardware from Home Depot. It has 72 welded nuts and bolts). Add the Adam Lambert-style heavy style black eyeliner and the 3/4" plugs in my ears, and you KNOW that I will never blend in with senior citizens in ANY Dr's office waiting room. Cutting to the chase, and finishing this chapter of this storied saga: This first Essence-supplied Dr. quickly wrote out a couple prescriptions. Neither of these prescriptions were covered by Essence, and I couldn't afford to pay full price for them from my own pocket, so I had to leave them unfilled, and to go on with my life without help in these areas. After the "Glad To See You!" Dr. left the room, he said, "You're doing good! I'll see you in 6 months!" The survivalist in me wanted to immediately scream out, "NO! WAIT! What do I have to do - or how do I have to look - to get you to believe that I am here because I NEED HELP, and it is *your* job to help me?" But, the realist that I am took over, and before I walked out of the office, I was determined to find a Dr. that could and would look past my exterior, and see a broken structure within those walls. I as pointed in the direction of a gay-friendly doctor that knew that my exterior was a mere shell, beneath all my smoke and mirrors is an official gimp. As much help as a Doctor can give in this day and age, this new doctor has helped me immensely. He gave me a prescription for Lomotil, which allows me to leave the house without knowing where every bathroom is in every business we frequent. Habba Syndrome is an evil, ugly disease that is usually lumped under the catch-all category of "Irritable Bowel Syndrome" because the Dr. doesn't know what else to call it. IBS (if there really is such a disease!) and Habba Syndrome are very different diseases. Essence Health Care requires that a patient be "stepped" to a more expensive drug before it is prescribed and issued. For Psoratic Arthrits, I had been taking over 3,000 mg / day of over-the-counter NSAIDs. Taking this high amount will shoot holes through my liver and my stomach. However, pain is a fantastic motivator. When the doctor advised against taking this large amount of NSAIDs, I told him, "Hell! The damage can't hurt any worse than the severe debilitating migraines that are caused by the pain in my fricken cervical (neck) spine!" He put me on Meloxicam, which is a slightly more potent drug than over-the-counter NDAIDS, and it is one pill instead of the 15 pills that I routinely take. With most patients, Meloxicam will work if there are *NO* other factors in the situation: During cold, rainy days, for example, or a GOOD psoratic arthrits flare-up, I could pop a handful of M&Ms, and better results than the Meloxicam can give me. At a relatively early stage in the arthritic disease process, Meloxicam usually has to be upgraded to a more potent drug. In September, 2012, I reached that point. I need to be upgraded to Celebrex, the drug that was originally approved by my earlier insurance (8 years ago), and one that I knew would help me. Remember....Essence has the worthless 'step program'. I had fulfilled Essence's 'step' requirements by first taking over-the-counter drugs, then taking the Meloxicam. My pain level tells me that a prescription for Celebrex is long overdue. Essence requires that the prescribing Doctor send an ACCURATELY FILLED OUT FORM verifying that the appropriate 'steps' have been taken before they will authorize a more expensive drug - Celebrex, in this case. My Dr's office staff assured me that they would send the paperwork to Essence, and within a couple days, they should fill the prescription. I asked the very patient Peggy, my friendly pharmacist tech at Schnuck's Pharmacy (Lindbergh & Clayton Rds., St. Louis, MO) how long it should take for Essence to approve the Celebrex prescription. She advised me that it could take "from 2 days to 2 weeks." Anybody that knows anything about me at all will tell vouch for the fact that I am not a patient person by any means. I did wait 8 days - over 1 week - before I called the pharmacy again. She told me that the prescription was still 'in progress', and that within a couple days, the Celebrex prescription should be approved and ready for me to pick up. After the conversation with Peggy - the pharmacy - I received a call from my Dr.'s office. The office personnel that called me told me that "for unknown reasons, Essence out-right denied my Celebrex prescription, and that I should remain on over-the-counter medications (Yep! The ones that are punching holes through my organs!), and continue to take the now-ineffective Meloxicam, or call your rheumatologist for further help." I did as I was advised: I called my rheumatologist, and she ordered another NSAID that was less expensive, and it was covered by Essence. I had Mark pick up this new prescription on his way home from work. (For reasons that will soon become apparent and clear, I am honestly overjoyed that the Celebrex prescription was in Essence's system *before* the drug (Relafen - generic: Nabumetone) that my rheumatologist ordered was into their system. Since it was late in the day, and past normal office hours, I had a sleepless night. I was infuriated past the point of tears. Why would Essence deny a needed increase in my medication when they had proof that I had taken all the necessary 'steps'? I had my shaking finger on the trigger, and I was chomping at the bit to blast the Hell out of the insurance company. BUT....while I defiantly do not want to yell at the WRONG person, I REALLY DO want to yell at the right person. I decided to call Essence to get the whole truth for myself before I lit the fuse. I was so mad that I decided to wait a while before I made that call. I knew that I never regret anyting that I say, but I knew I could probably use more polite wording, even though the devil in me wanted me to rip them a new ass. I got an honestly helpful representative from Essence on the phone. She looked over the details and said, "Sir, it looks like you haven't completed the 'step' program. That is why we denied the Celebrex prescription. I will check with another department to make sure that is correct, but I'm pretty sure that is the accurate reason you were denied." At the end of her work day, the insurance rep called me back. She reiterated the fact that the proper steps had not been completed. AH! I see the light clearly now! I knew the pharmacy had not 'dropped the ball', and now I knew that the fault was most likely not Essence's fault. I never did get to the bottom of the deal, but I am almost certain that the Dr's office either: 1) Did not fill out the form AT ALL that explained that I did, in fact, do the necessary 'steps' 2) As often is the case, when the papers are faxed, 2 pages stick together, the second (stuck under the first) page doesn't get faxed, but in the end, because this stuck page is pulled through the fax machine', it is the 'faxed' stack, and he 'sender' has no idea or knowledge that this important, vital information has not, in fact, been faxed. OR..... if the ball was, in fact, in Essence's court: 1) They misplaced the important 'step' information. 2) There was some unfortunate incident (read: mistake) when the information was entered into whatever system Essence might have. Whether we have 6 of one thing, and half a dozen of the other is inconsequential. Either way, a mistake was made, and I had been waiting 2 weeks for a prescription that I desperately need that should have been filled in no more than 2 days from the day it was originally ordered. SO....... I really did not want to yell at the WRONG person, but I really DO want to yell the RIGHT person - the individual responsible for messing up my prescription.
Two days ago, I left the physical therapist's office (after getting both physical therapy and dry needling (acupuncture). Before I walked out of this tall, mostly-medical building, I went to the 14th floor, which is the 'break area' for the entire building. I needed to get my ducks in row before I started blasting people for screwing me over. I called the Essence once more to see if they have, in fact, received the correct information from my Dr.'s office, and to determine the immediate status of my Celebrex prescription. This time, the customer service rep at Essence was't as compassionate as the first rep that I called, and this lady wasn't willing to view the subject from a different point of view. She told me, "Sir, you must complete the 'steps' before we can approve the Celebrex prescription. I see that you have been on over-the-counter medication and Meloxicam, but just yesterday, you got a prescription filled for Nabumetone. The Nabumetone IS a part of the'step' program, and you must give this drug a trial period before we can approve the Celebrex prescription." I tried in much vain to explain to this lady that I was given the Nabumetone prescription to hold me over until the mistake that had been made with the Celebrex order had been cleared up. She wouldn't hear of it, and she didn't want to listen to me. I left the break room on the 14th floor of this building, and I took the elevator to the 1st floor. During the elevator ride to the ground floor, my cellphone started breaking up, and I eventually lost her signal (which was most likely a merciful gift from GOD!) I never called her back. By the time we reached this level, I was thoroughly pissed at this game. I was well 'over it'. I thought, "What have I done to myself? Have I just shot myself in the foot by doing what my primary care doctor advised me to do?" (Before they realized that a mistake had been made, they called me and advised me to call my rheumatologist - which I did. God LOVE her! Dr. Barbara Caciolo, MD, came to my rescue. I saw her only days before, and she knew my psoriatic arthritis flaring up with a vengeance These days, it is a rare occurrence indeed, when a Dr. does his or her job, and they do it efficiently. BUT....I thought I did damage to the situation because this new medication was ordered, and I would have to 'ride this one out' for a few weeks or months before I could get the Celebrex that I had been working so hard to get. Within a half an hour of my call with the 'not-so-understanding' representative from Essence, I received a call from Schnuck's Pharmacy: "Michael, your Celebrex order has been approved, and it is ready for you to pick up.!" I don't know exactly who to - honestly - thank at Essence for finally 'seeing the light', and realizing that the Celebrex was ordered and was entered in their system before the Nabumetone had been ordered and entered. SOMEBODY knew the rules of the game, and they knew that they had to both consider and fill the order that had been placed FIRST (Celebrex) before they filled or considered the SECOND order (Nabumetone). FINALLY! After fighting this mini-war since August, I get the medication that my aching bones need! Forget the aching bones....the muscle contractions that the arthritis in my neck have been causing brings on a blinding migraine headaches - every day. I fought 'the system', and I won. It is a small victory, however: When I picked up my prescription, I noted on the paper and the receipt that only 30 pills were ordered, and the total $$ without insurance would have been a little over $200. "HUH?", I ask myself. I have taken Celebrex in the past, and I know that there should have been at least 120 pills in that bottle, and the pre-insurance total should have been between $550 - $800. This is the clincher: The order is: "Take 1 capsule every day." CRAP! Remember, I am both a patient and a nurse. This is the TINIEST Celebrex prescription that I have ever seen! The order is for 1 pill a day. when I was on this medication *8* years ago, I was taking 4 pills a day. Do the Dr.s really believe that a degenerative disease is going to improve? Nope. No can do. Degenerative means just that: It gets worse, not better. So....because the tiny amount of Celebrex that I DID receive will do me absolutely no good at all, and is, in fact, a huge laugh, I will take it with the Nabumetone for a month. The 2 together should bring my inflammation down to a small roar. THEN....I tell my Dr. that the 1 capsule is no longer effective. I will get 'bumped' up to a relatively NORMAL Celebrex prescription (2 to 4 capsules per day, minimum). GEEZ! The work-arounds that have to be done to get where I need to go! "Getting old is not for sissies!" True. But.... "Being a Gimp isn't for sissies, either!" It should be of no wonder to individuals when they see a crabby old person or a pissed off Gimp! It's hard to wade through the medical crap that we are forced to drudge through, and not get a little - or a lot - on us! - Michael
To the Coward in Connecticut: I know your favorite target(s) are children, malls and theatres, where you KNOW people are unarmed.
To disprove your cowardice, and to back up your bravery, go ahead on and fire at a fully armed Army platoon, or an armed Marine regiment. Many folk think that I am just a hot-headed loud mouth. If that is the label that you need to apply to me, then go ahead and stick it to me. I might as well live up to my expectations by saying: This shooter is MORE proof that "The Dumbing Down of Americans is happening at an alarming rate. Dear readers, you really don't need an more proof than that to believe that my statement is true, but should you NEED more examples, I am prepared to help you with those, as well. I have been in a management position several times in my employment history. I was told by my superiors: "If you have to give somebody a disciplinary write-up, don't get them for just one small issue. Write them up for everything you can, all at the same time."
With that consideration in mind, and while I am playing "Wack-a-Mole" with the hot seat button, let me continue by saying that I am 100% behind the ban of assault rifles. To paraphrase Dixie Cater's character (Julia Sugerbaker) from Designing Women:
"Those guns were not designed to hunt your supper. They were designed to hunt MEN." 'Nuff said. If you need a further explanation, as I stated before, I am more than prepared to help you with that.
(If these cowards are every caught alive, and if you people are can't 'push the button' because you are morally or ethically against the death penalty, and thus, you can't 'push the button', feel free to call me! I'll do it for you!)
The 3rd issue is the American Pit Bull Terrier:
(With a 100% certainty, I can tell you that you will never, ever see an English Bulldog or Pug's face on that picture......)
Did you know: In the 1850's - before bull bating was banned in England, the English Bulldog had a WORSE but accurate public image than the Pit Bull does in today's society?
The facts:
After bull bating was banned, the English Bulldog had no job to do. This breed would have definitely gone extinct had the breeders decided to turn them into pets instead of raging animals. English Bulldogs were once locked up in rooms as small as a closet, or in outdoor cages. They were considered very dangerous dogs. After the English Bulldog 'lost his job', the breeders had to quickly and purposefully breed the BAD temperament out of these dogs if their lineage was to survive. The results: SUCCESS!
When you find statistics on English Bulldogs EQUAL to these, I will call a truce: http://www.fatalpitbullattacks.com/index.php
I got this bit of info directly from Wikipedia:
"After further inspection, most deadly incidents involving Pit Bulls occur because of the manner in which the canine in question had been raised. Almost all of the fatal incidents involve Pitt Bulls that had been trained for dog fighting."
Go ahead. Do the homework for yourself. Look up "English Bulldogs" on Wikipedia, and see if you can find info that even vaguely resembles the sample paragraph above.
Paraphrasing the message in the above picture in the form of a question:
"When will I stop being judged by the content of my character, rather than my appearance?"
With all my heart, I do believe that that day MIGHT eventually arrive when the Pit Bull's reputation matches the English Bulldog's reputation. HOWEVER, the trailer park trash that owns many of these dogs, and uses them as a weapon instead as a pet and a companion are not helping your cause, or the breed's cause and it's image.
'Back in the day', the English Bulldog's genetic pool was contained in a much smaller space in the world, before the dog's became popular in other parts of the planet. Such containment made it easier than it would be today to confine and improve the genetic pool before it was released world-wide.
Since the world is now a much bigger place, and relatively cheap travel is relatively accessible, the job of refining the Pit Bull's reputation is going to be much more difficult than it would have been back in the 1850's.
AS A WHOLE, these dogs need to be bred for good temperament, exactly as the English bulldog was bred. Having an 'attack temperament' in any breeding stock will foil your attempts at improving this dog's image, and disproving a bad reputation. At this precise time and date in history, I know on a personal level several Pitbulls that are being raised in kept in widely varied environments. In the GOOD environments, those specific pitbulls can be 95% trustworthy. The pitbulls that I know that live in unsteady or bad environments: I personally wouldn't trust them enough to be left along with them!
This breed needs more time before 'judging it by it's character' is a thing of the past - and for very valid reasons.
I think that is enough 'write-ups' for one day, but the day is still young.
This is my 3rd full-sized Dole Pineapple that I grew from the top of a store-bought pineapple
I have citrus trees, avocado trees, at least one adult full-sized pineapple plant, at least one dragon fruit, several miniature pineapple plants and one huge cherimoya tree - just to name a few.
I have started all these plants from seed that I get from fruit bought at the grocery store. For 41 years of my fricken life (until we moved into our current home), I could grow the most impossible plants from seed that I get from their fruits, but I would kill a cactus faster than CBS dumped "Jimmy The Greek" (I apologize for the random Golden Girls quote.)
There were several cacti in pots in the windows of this house when we moved in. I thought, "Oh, what the Hell! They would have eventually been dead, anyway!" But, after 3 years, they have grown and multiplied WAY too much. I think I finally reached the top of the 'Cacti Mountain', and I have ultimately figured them out.
Along the same lines, for years, I had aquariums, and I successfully bred and raised Bettas, which is not an easy task to do. With the lone exception of a cheap, feeder goldfish, with a 100% success rate, I killed every cute, 'puffy', rather expensive fancy-type goldfish that I ever attempted to bring into the house. I think they eventually learned to warn each other when they saw me approaching the aquarium in the store, and they hid behind the rocks and plants until I walked away.
The same goes with knitting and reading music. If I'm knitting a VERY simple stitch repeat, I will cuss a lot, and I have to rip it out, and start over many times for about 2 hours before I get the pattern right. However, if I start to knit a center-out, top down complicated 16 stitch-repeat lace shawl, I'll never make a mistake on it.
I never learned to play "Heart and Soul", "Chopsticks" or "Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star". Those songs frustrate the Hell out of me, but with some practice, I can play heavy-handed Scott Joplin pieces.
Ask Mark. He will tell you that these friggen things will honestly frustrate me to tears. Lots of cussing and lots of tears, actually.
One of my fellow regular estate sale shoppers have observed my behavior, I guess, more than I have, and she let me in on the secret: She said, "The reason you mess up on the easy stuff, and you do the difficult stuff well is that you KNOW it's easy, so even though you THINK you are paying close attention, your brain gets bored quickly, and turns itself off without letting you know it went to sleep.. THEN, after several mistakes, you realize your attention span shut off without first warning you. When you do something difficult, you KNOW it is an advanced level, and you know it requires all of your attention, therefore, you make no mistakes."
I dunno. Do you think she's right? Even if she s, I have tried to take this advice to heart, but my brain has 'been doing what i's been doing' for 44 yrs. It's going to take a firm hand to guide this old ship back to shore, but with some diligence - and more cursing and crying - I think I can...I think I can... I think I can!
