578:Random sh…..stuff.


The government has married many, many women. These women marry the government when they choose to stay at home and have children to support themselves on the government dole. Many actually refuse to marry their children’s father(s), and raise those children in a nuclear family, because they are unwilling to give up the free government money. When they can obtain benefits that are sometimes more than they can earn working a no-skills job at minimum wage (all many are remotely qualified for, if that), where is any incentive to work? There isn’t any.

Our government is enabling addictive behaviors among many, dis-encouraging them to get jobs and support themselves. The trouble is, cutting them off also disenfranchises the innocent children they have spawned to earn their living upon. How do you provide benefits to children while not encouraging their deadbeat parent to spawn more children to get an even bigger government handout support check?

Is it just me, or does anyone else absolutely despair at the fact that either Clinton or Trump will win this upcoming election? They are both awful candidates – how did we sink this low, that these two are our choices? Boggles the mind, for those who have one – which means not many Americans, evidently.

IS anyone actually campaigning to do away with police? Seriously? That isn’t a country I want to live in. Yes, I understand that not every single police officer is ethical. Guess what? Neither is every single practitioner of any other profession: medical doctors, politicians (duh), lawyers, judges, presidents, preachers/priests, scientists/researchers, sports athletes, you name it. We are routinely and frequently advised by the news (if you can trust journalists (:-() that people of all professions fall short of the glory of God, or even of basic honesty. Still – I think we are far, far better off WITH a police force than without one.

Learning to live with another human being is hard work.

I have discovered that getting thin takes hard work and dedication that I do not possess on a continuing, daily basis – and THAT is why I continue to be fat, despite intermittant and dedicated short-term willpower. One slip undoes DAYS of good behavior – sometimes weeks. 😦

Whether someone is gay (which lifestyle I personally disagree with) or chooses to abort their offspring (which choice I disagree with) ultimately does not affect me in any way whatsoever. What those persons do affects them and their lives – and you know what? People have the choice to throw away their lives in various ways, including suicide (which I also disagree with) and their decisions are their own. Their decisions are between themselves and their God (or lack thereof) and YES, they may be ill or mentally unfit when they make those decisions. It isn’t always apparent that they are unfit when they choose to do themselves harm with drugs, food, alcohol, gambling, sex, or any number of other life-destroying choices. YES, we should do what we CAN do to encourage people to do better things and make better choices. NO, it isn’t my fault when they make those choices anyway, when there are programs and options they can take, and don’t. For the love of God, I have enough to do trying to live my own life in an ethical and caring manner. Enough, already.

I dislike out present cradle-to-grave government. I do not believe this is what government was supposed to be doing. I want OUT. Repudiating my American citizenship is an option, but I also don’t know another country to go to and at present there is no such thing as “citizen of the world.”

Our government pushed native American Indians onto the worst land possible as their “reservations.” Now that they are discovering those lands have resources and are not as barren as was originally thought, Americans should PAY them for the use of those resources. Plus, we need to GO AROUND their reservation lands when we have some project for the nation, like the pipeline. We stuffed them onto those lands – now, BACK OFF. Respect what we made them accept in the first place!

A teacher has a huge influence on their students. But nobody can save every kid. It has to be a two-way street. I can choose to reject every overture you make. I can refuse to learn, and some students do choose exactly that. Maybe later they will gain some interest and motivation. Maybe another teacher will try again and reach them next year. Maybe school isn’t for everybody – imagine that. Not everything is a teacher’s fault, like not every cop or politician is a bad one. Heck, there are even a few competent and ethical used car salesmen out there.

Enough, already.


454: Teacher Respect


I got into a Facebook discussion (fight) that started with someone’s insensitive comments about police officers being despicable, power-hungry racists (which a few of them are) and which MOST of them are emphatically not. My comment in support of police and the sacrifices they make trying to help ensure that the world is a better place caused a person to brag about her Master’s degree and her teaching job, all with execrable grammar.

This, people, is one of the reasons teachers are held in such low esteem. We are supposed to be educated, and we are supposed to write and speak (most of the time, anyway) as if we paid some attention in class. Particularly in English class, since that is the medium of instruction. You don’t want your child in class with a teacher who writes more poorly than your child, now, do you? When a self-proclaimed teacher can’t distinguish between homophones (to, too, and two),  and misuses articles (an crop), among other egregious errors, it embarrasses all teachers. And this person supposedly has a Master’s degree. Yeah, right. From which online college did you buy that worthless piece of paper, honey-child?

The more this person replied to my comments, the worse it got. Finally, as a teaching professional, I was just embarrassed on her behalf, and she seriously, honestly, never got a clue. Thank God I am fairly close to retirement, and do not have to school the new crop of educators, because honey-child, it isn’t pretty. I quote:

I never personal attacker her she is rude go back and read what she wrote as a teacher I am saddened by her … Like seriously .. I would be ashamed .. You can delete me if you like … But I refuse to be belittled by someone who does not even know me ..

The Grammar Nazi in me is freaking out (quietly) right now. Thank you, Jesus, that my children are graduated and no longer in school.


353: Stop Stopping

Written after my move to Fitzgerald, Ga in 2006 – published in the local city paper.

I am definitely a newcomer to this small southern town.  Never mind that more than five generations of my family have lived here – I am the newcomer. I know this for a fact because of one simple, minor, annoying small thing.

There is, on Lemon Street, a stop sign in front of a railroad track crossing. Now this is a spur track that serves the industrial part of town, and there are seldom trains that use this track. It is quite clear that this fact is well known to all who live in this small town – all except for ME (the newcomer).  I still see a stop sign at this railroad crossing.  I am apparently the only one in town who does – no one, and I mean NO ONE else in town, stops for this sign.  Not even the city propane truck stops at this sign, even though it clearly states on the truck’s bumper “We stop at all railroad crossings.”  Doesn’t matter – they don’t stop. Neither, by the way, do the police – either the city police or the sheriff’s deputies!

I am apparently the only fool in town who has not figured out that this one particular stop sign is entirely optional, and may freely be ignored, at will, with complete impunity.  I have nearly been rear-ended three times trying to stop for this sign when I was followed by another city resident who could not tell I was a newcomer (and did not know the secret) and who was quite obviously NOT expecting for this crazy fool to stop for the sign that nobody else stops for.

I wonder – will I no longer be new if I stop stopping?

337: El Ladron

One thing about moving to another country is becoming acquainted with culture and a new language. Panama’s language is Spanish. El ladron is one noun I’d rather not have become familiar with. It means “the thief.” Yep. I met a robber up close and personal – a whole lot more up close and personal than I would have preferred.

There is a settling-in phase anytime you move to a new location, even if you are not moving country. You must find all the suppliers for all of your various and assorted needs: haircuts, doctors, insurance, groceries, hardware, veterinarian (if you have fur children), and other necessities – including where the local police station is. That one, again, I would just as soon have put off finding out about. Like, oh say – for about 40 years or so.

Now, when you are in the actual process of being mugged, for those of you who have not yet had this delightful experience, let me assure you that it happens very quickly, and not quickly enough all at the same time. It is actually quite similar to a roller coaster ride. Short and violent. Unlike a roller coaster, though, you don’t get to keep your wallet or purse. Or anything else of value.

Because I react before I think sometimes, I found myself in a tug-of-war with this particular young thug, and because I fought back, jerking my bag between us until the straps tore OFF, my house keys (which had been clipped to the strap) fell to the road, and he did not get them, plus a few other essential items that got shaken out of the bag as well. YES. I KNOW you are not supposed to fight back, especially when it is just belongings that can be replaced. I KNOW, when my brain is engaged. It wasn’t engaged, it was pissed off that this punk kid wanted my things, and was willing to attack me to get them. I KNOW, I KNOW. I could be dead right now. I KNOW, and I realized that after the straps tore off the bag, leaving HIM holding the bag, and me clutching two ripped-off straps.

S$&*. S#@^. S^*@. And some more S^*#. I am coming to the conclusion that Panama might not be the retirement place I was looking for……..

225. Well….SPIT!

It is Monday – all day. On the way to work this morning, I was involved in an automobile accident. My four carpoolers and I. The lady who was sitting closest to the back tire on the passenger side, where the impact occurred, knocked out that window using her HEAD (not that she intended that to happen), and was quite understandably upset, shook up thoroughly and in shock. She was transported to the hospital and checked out, and praise God she’s OK. She does not even have to spend the night for observation.

That is the important thing – that none of us five, or the four people in the other car, were injured. The fairly minor damage to the vehicles can be dealt with later, and it is totally not important compared with the people.

The rest of it can handled later. It does not help my peace of mind to know that in another completely unrelated accident where the other driver was clearly at fault, the judge has already ruled that the accident was my husband’s fault, probably because of some baksheesh under the table. This accident will be much harder to call, which means they will probably blame me, even though I don’t believe I was at fault. I stopped at the intersection and looked. There was no car coming. For the car to have hit me just as I had almost cleared the three-lane roadway, when he was not visible when I pulled out, means he had to have been flying. This would be borne out by the fact that my little car was slewed sideways in the driveway we almost made it into. There were three lanes available, and the car that hit us made no effort to swerve around us, even though he had room. I think he was blinded by the sun in his eyes, and that he never saw us until he hit us. He did not hit the brakes, nor did he warn us with the horn – just WHAM!

At any rate, Morocco police collect the driver’s licenses of both drivers, which means now that my husband will have to drive us carpoolers to work from now until they return the license – if they do. Sometimes they just never get around to doing that. Like I said….. it’s Monday.