Bits 'n' Pieces

I have a job interview tomorrow morning.  It's retail, but it's in a home improvement store 15 minutes from home.  I hope they offer me the job and a decent starting wage; it should suit my needs just fine.  I don't want to work full time, but I almost applied for a FT job last week - kennel attendant in an upscale pet resort and training facility.  I could spend 40 hours a week talking only to dogs, walking them, and yes, even cleaning up after them.  And getting paid for it.  Oh well. Lowe's is more practical.

And speaking of home improvement, we brought home a few paint samples the other day, and I've chosen my new den.  Hopefully we can start this week.

I met my very first black widow spider while weeding the front flower bed today.  She was quite beautiful.  Yes I said "was."  Spiders don't give me the willies and I usually leave them alone because they kill things that DO give me the willies, but let's be real here - she was crawling up the foundation of my house!  I'm glad WolfAlpha was home, because I prefer not to get close enough to kill a critter that could kill me back, especially one with a brain the size of a grain of sand.  Problem solved; I do love that man.

The "Five in the Bed..."* (my siblings and I) are currently swimming in a deluge of emails, discussing our parents' immediate and long term needs.  The crisis that precipitated this was much milder than it could have been, and we've been expecting it, but still.  On the plus side, the cooperation, suggestions and support flying through cyberspace is a sight to behold.  Whodathunk that five kids who fought like cats and dogs, would grow up to be such decent, generous people.  All of us.  I guess it's a testament to Mom and Dad; their lives have hardly been a walk in the park, but they were tenacious.  They always did what they knew was right, and their patience with five clueless kids who took them totally for granted, was phenomenal.  I only hope that those two stubborn, independent people can keep their wits about them well enough to let us  give it all back, and make their last years comfortable and safe.

*I can't find an audio to embed, but Odetta's "Five in the Bed" was a big part of our early childhood.

Please Help Me

A Voice for Men has put up a petition to have Judge Lori B. Jackson impeached.
Please follow the link to change.org and sign it.  We have half of the signatures needed.

petition

Here's the article at AVfM:

AVfM

Those two abused, frightened and betrayed, children MUST be kept safe!  Thank you from the bottom of my heart.

Committed

It’s official.  I’m a card carrying radical activist now.  I drove to West Virginia today, to rattle a cage and poke a tiger with a stick.  I distributed more than one hundred flyers that asked:  “What is going on in the family court of Judge Lori B. Jackson, and why is she putting children in the hands of a known abuser?”

http://www.shrink4men.com/2012/09/12/west-virginia-judge-lori-b-jackson-enables-child-abuse/

My husband drove because A) he had the day off, and B) he was a little concerned about the potential for trouble.  The poor guy wasn’t out of the car for more than a few minutes of a twelve hour day!  (Yes, he’s my hero…)

It was a four-hour trip each way, but the weather was beautiful and the leaves are beginning to turn in the mountains, so it was like a scenic Sunday drive, only a day late.  We looped through Bridgeport, Clarksburg and Shinnston, and we brought the camera and the digital voice recorder in case of confrontations.  Fortunately there were no negative encounters, possibly in part because I moved too fast to bother with the camera.  (And really I was OK with that; I didn’t want to stand out so I wore dull, unflattering clothes, no make-up, and I plastered “The Hair” down flat.)

Not many stores had community bulletin boards, but a few gas station clerks let me tape flyers to walls or leave them on the front counters.  I handed most of the flyers directly to people in parking lots, saying, “I’m publicizing a local child abuse case, may I give you this?  There’s a website at the bottom.”  (My husband followed closely in the car, just in case a quick exit became necessary.)  The responses were overwhelmingly positive, and only two people turned me down; I didn’t argue.  One gentleman, not knowing the specifics of this particular case, said he nearly lost a granddaughter to abuse.  “They keep putting those kids with the wrong parents!”  No kidding.

I posted several flyers in the public library, and then went over to the TV station (WBOY 12news) and the newspaper (Exponent Telegram.)   I told them they might want a heads-up because they’d likely be hearing from the public.  I spoke only to a receptionist at the TV station, but at the paper a reporter brought me to his boss; her eyes lit up and she said, “We’ll definitely look into this!”  Time will tell if she meant, “Oh boy, this is going to be juicy!” or, “Uh oh, I’d better call Lori!” 

I kept thinking I could reach more people by walking down the main streets wearing a sandwich board (not entirely out of the question in the future, but don’t tell my husband just yet, M’kay?)  However, it’s fair to say that my mission was a success; a whole lot more people know about the Kirk case today, than knew yesterday.  I can’t control the outcome, but maybe I helped protect a couple of children today.  And I hope I ended a corrupt judge’s career.

"I Wish John Lennon Were Alive to Read this Essay."

That title was a comment from Brendan, on this post:
(From A Voice for Men, naturally)

The New Nigger

"I see an entire class of people who can be harmed by a member of a privileged class and there is no help for them. They can be legally abused and everyone looks the other way. There are those members of the lower class who try to make themselves as useful to their superiors as possible or keep their heads down unless spoken to and then he’d better say what ever pleases his superior, that is the safest way to behave."


Rock on, Nurdy, Rock on!

My First BlogShoot

We toddled over to West Virginia for our first range day since before Lance Criminal was born, and attended a Wounded Warrior Project fundraiser.  I support them anyway, so that was this week's donation.  It was pretty cool, although we had chores to do so we didn't stay for the lunch.  I met some of my favorite gunbloggers, and three of my guns are in dire need of a thorough cleaning!  I also know where I'll go for my concealed carry permit class and more training.  WolfAlpha and I blasted away for about two hours before my back said, "Are you kidding me?  What's with all this percussion?"

I even hit two perfect bulls-eyes, both with the .357 Magnum.  Once with the hammer cocked, and once one handed.  I have no idea how - 'cos that sucker is heavy!

I'm all ready for a shower now because I'm gritty and speckled with minuscule mild powder burns.  Oh, and WolfAlpha got a bit of brass down his collar, a gift from the gal next to us.  If I hadn't been there, I'd be demanding to know who gave him that hickie!

A bangity good day!

The Economics of Female Promiscuity

M3 has a crystal clear post up, illustrating why sluts make lousy wives.

"I don’t know about you, but i wouldn’t fucking hire a woman who’s had 43 different jobs in the last 2 years and is sitting in front of me at the desk saying they hope to be a lifer at my company."

http://whoism3.wordpress.com/2012/09/22/why-sluts-make-poor-life-partners-for-dummies/


 If your plan is to be a "partner" in a "stable venture," you might want to consider acquiring the appropriate "training."  If you perfect the art of being a free agent, expect to remain a free agent.

NAWALT

Not All Women Are Like That.  I know, ladies, I know.  Granted, the vast majority of NAWALTs are far too old to have much influence on the future.  They were shouted down fifty years ago, and have gracefully accepted the fact that they are hopelessly outdated and uncool.  In fact, they're fine with being uncool; their immediate worlds are shrinking every time they read the obituary page, but their immediate worlds still make sense.

Some of you, however, are still quite young.  How you have managed to see the (wo)man behind the curtain, or indeed, how you ever even wondered if she might exist, is beyond me.  When I was your age I was an oblivious introvert who just didn't "get" much of anything.  I did follow the herd a bit, not because I wanted to be where they were going, but because it never occurred to me that there was a different way.  I got so lucky.  When I met my husband I was wavering between two drunks, and I cringed at the thought that sooner or later one of them would ask me to marry him.  Since I didn't want to be married to either of them, I finally had to ask myself why the hell I was wasting my time with them.  And then I met the real deal, and I kept him.  I could have scored a wealthy "Beta Provider/Sucker," but the ones who grovelled at my feet were too Beta.  (And back then such men were plentiful; I was pretty, but hardly beautiful.)  I didn't realize it then, but I needed a man who could lead me, with a gentle, patient hand.  An Alpha Beta, or maybe a Beta Alpha.

But this isn't about me, it's about you.

I'm sorry.  I apologize for the world my generation has given you.  I also apologize to your male peers, but there's a sad, sad irony here: those of your male peers who "get it" are pissed off, and rightfully so.  But they actually have more options than you do.  They can walk away, and they can handle the criticism they will face for it.  They've been criticized their entire lives.  They're used to it, and they haven't let it destroy them.  The ugly truth is, they will do better without you than you will do without them.  You, on the other hand, are Women.  Your girlfriends are women.  Your coworkers are women.  Your emotional support networks are women.  If you thumb your noses at them, they will eviscerate you, and you haven't been taught to be tough enough to take it.  A few of you have learned on your own how to have thick skin, and I freely admit I am in awe of you; I never understood other women, so I didn't get very close to many of them, but I always thought there was something wrong with me, not them.  Please take my advice: Escape.  Make a clean break.  Most of those women don't understand you and they either despise you or fear you.  They have nothing to offer you except a wet blanket and a knife in your back.

Again, I'm sorry.  I'm sorry that you have been led to believe that you can borrow the price of two houses and spend four, six, or maybe eight years in college studying something fun and easy, and then graduate into an interesting middle class career.
Incidentally, read this book!!!

...To be fair, that might actually happen for a small minority of you, but chances are, many of those fun and easy careers are going to disappear in another decade or so.  They produce little or nothing  and our economy can no longer afford them.  Educational institutions, K-post grad,  will shrink, and those non-teaching "teachers" already in the field will have first dibs on the remaining jobs.  HR departments will shrink as work forces shrink, and as employers look harder to find places to cut costs.  Non-profits will shrink as government grants shrink, so your grant-application-writing skills will be useless.  Municipal, state and federal clerical jobs will disappear or be cut to part-time/no benefits.  I'm not sorry that you will have to work for you pay, because real work builds character and gives satisfaction.  You might well end up happier, if poorer, than your elders.  But I am sorry that we have deceived you.  We told you it would be easy, because for us it was easy, but then we used up all the resources a long time ago and we've been borrowing from you for decades.  (Who am I kidding?  We've been borrowing from ME for decades!)

I'm sorry that we told you you'll be happy and fulfilled without a husband and children; only a few of you actually will.  I'm sorry that nobody taught you how to become the kind of woman a good man would want to marry.  We didn't teach you how to cook, manage a household, manage money, manage your desires, or mind your tongues.  We didn't teach you how to sacrifice, for your husband, for your children, or for your own future.  We've been telling you all your lives that you can have it all, right now, but we didn't tell you how to earn it.  I'm also sorry we told you that you could be an outstanding career woman, wife and mother, all at the same time.  You can't.  Something always has to give, and it's usually the breadwinner childcare-assistant household-helper husband, and ultimately the children.

You're on your own.  If you're lucky enough to find and marry a good man, do not listen to your female friends' subtle hints that maybe you could do better.  You probably can't, and the government will have a lot less money to give you and your kids between husbands.  If you do find a marriageable AND MARRIAGE-MINDED man, you're going to have to do more than just show up.  You're going to have to prove yourself worthy.  Reliable.  Responsible.  Loyal.  Compassionate.  Feminine.  You will not have the future you've been promised; you will have the future you earn.  You might even end up happy.

If any of the above ramblings make the least bit of sense to you, then there's a good chance you really aren't Like That.  Good luck to you as you re-invent the wheel, figuring out what your great grandmothers always knew.  I admire your grit, and once again, I'm sorry.

Anonymous Letter