Showing Respect

Saw a post on Facebook this morning.  My nephew mentioned "John" and for a moment, I didn't know who he was referring to.  John is my brother.  His father.  He calls his father by his name, which I knew, but it got me to thinking about how we show respect.

When my grand-nephew referred to my father (his great-grandfather) as "Charlie", there were some protests.  How disrespectful!  The brother I mentioned has seven kids, and I don't think any of them call him anything but "John".  One of my sisters used to insist that her children call me "Aunt Jeanie" instead of just Jeanie.

I find it amusing and puzzling that people think titles are so important.  (Not that they are technically titles, but that's another blog.)  Is Grandmother respected more than Granny?  Is Dad respected more than John?  Would I be treated with more respect if I was Aunt Jeanie?  I don't think so.  I'd still be who and what I am, after all.  God help us if we start throwing in all the steps and exes.

And how do we decide which ones to use?  "Wife" and "Husband" as forms of address sound, at least to me, like ownership.  So does "Daughter" but not "Son".  Must be the male-dominated society I was raised in.  What about the relationships that defy labeling, like the friend who is as good as family?

My minions (nieces and nephews) mostly refer to me as Jean, or Jeanie, but the one who holds me in such regard that he moved me in to help raise his son?  "Fat".  It's an in-joke, but to outsiders it surely sounds terrible.

I don't really have a point with this blog.  I just want to share my musings and the cat isn't interested.

Little Plastic People

I confuse people.  About lots of stuff, but in this case, I'd like to address the Barbie issue.  I have roughly forty of these little plastic folks.  I do not collect them.  I play with them.  I enjoy combing their hair and dressing them and setting up little scenes with them (not that the scenes last long - I do live with three cats and a kid, after all.)

I'm not defining Barbie by Mattel's copyright. "Barbie" is a species name on Jeanie Planet.  Males are included.  Fashion dolls made by other companies are included. Prepubescent dolls are included.  1:6 scale action figures are included. I'm pretty sure this might horrify a serious collector.

I pick them out by some distinctive feature.  A lot of them have unnatural hair colors.  Some of them are characters or celebrities.  At least one of them was chosen for her bizarre eye color.  If they get a name change, that's probably where the name came from.  Violet has a purple stripe in her hair (She came with the name Fashion Fever Barbie).

They generally arrive with a name already.  Sharpay became Charmaine because I find misspelled dog breeds to be objectionable.  Candy Glam Teresa became Candy because I already had a Teresa. Chelsea became Kelly because I couldn't get used to Mattel's change to Barbie's sister's name.  (But Stacie remained Stacie because that sister's original name predates me.) I'm kinda arbitrary about it.

Why, you ask.  Why would a grown woman spend her energy and money on such nonsense?  I could go into all kinds of psychobabble about my messed-up childhood, but I'll spare us all.  It ultimately doesn't matter.  I enjoy it and it's harmless.

I do have a few rules about play.  Like NEVER, EVER leave someone naked upon the completion of play. I get a little upset about that one.

The Welfare State

There is an awful lot of misunderstanding out there about Welfare.  Or whatever politically correct label it bears this week. People are under the impression that we get eight million dollars a month and spend it all on beer and cigarettes.  I've been told more than once it is not the government's job to take care of me if I can't work, it's my family's.  I'm going to rant about both these points.

The amount you get varies a great deal, depending upon how many folks there are in your household and if they are working.  Then it depends on how much they are working, and their hourly wage.   Rules vary from county to county, but a very few folks are not required to at least look for work.  The disabled and children, for example.  It is not an automatic free ride, and the Welfare Department has to know everything but what color underwear you prefer.  When I was last on a "check" my monthly amount was less than the rent on a one bedroom apartment.  Currently, my SSDI is less than 800 dollars a month and all I get from Welfare is a medical card, which I have to pay a "spend down" on.

I've known countless people on Welfare in my nearly half-century on this planet.  Most of them were in need temporarily.  Most of them, if they smoke and drink, do it in moderation and put the needs of their children first.   Most of them follow the rules, and accept the (relatively meager) help with gratitude.  And, yes, shame.   I can think of maybe three examples of stereotypical "Welfare People".

Now, about it not being the government's job to take care of me.  In theory, I agree with this.  If someone in your family needs help, you should help them.  And society should reward that with, if nothing else, a proverbial pat on the back.  My experience teaches me that our society does not work that way.  What should be is not the same thing as what is.

I've taken in homeless friends and relatives, even if all I could give them was a floor to sleep on and four walls around them, and they have appreciated it.  Society told me I was foolish, I was being taken advantage of, I was flat-out stupid for doing so.  Because of Society's rules, my family cannot put me on their health insurance.  When I was in need, my family came to my aid and got the "stupid" treatment from Society.

So... Welfare is not a free ride, is not a million dollars a month, and most people on it are not scum.  And, yes, it is the government's job to help them. Because society won't allow the people who should to do it.

Bullying

With the new school year upon us, there's an upsurge in talk of bullying.  Having been a victim of bullying and a pseudo-parent, I thought I would toss my opinions into the ring. Peer pressure has long been seen as a means of social control, and it can have positive outcomes. The egregious examples of bullying, of course, are the ones we hear about the most. The ones who drive the victim possibly as far as suicide.  But often it is simply peer pressure gone wrong.

When I was in junior high, I was hygienically challenged and I clung to things my classmates had left far behind.  I got un-stinky and (as far as they knew) I'd given up childish pursuits, so they zeroed in on the clothes.   These were what I consider real bullies.  The ones that, if they sense a weakness, will exploit it.  My wardrobe was mostly hand-me-downs and my youngest sister was five years my senior.  In 1978, I was wearing 1973 (if that new) fashions.  Finally, my stepmother took me shopping for new school clothes.  Finally, I was in the same clothes the cheerleaders were wearing!  That did not shut the real bullies up.  They started in on my hairdo, or my lack of make-up, or anything they could.  That was when I gave up.  Not gave up as in suicide. I gave up trying to please them.

I know it isn't always so simple - especially if the bullying is physical - but in my case that worked.  By the tenth grade, I was largely accepted.  Or at least left alone.  I've always tried to encourage that in the children I know.  Ignoring the bullies is best, if possible.  They simply do not matter.  I also give my kids instruction in how not to be a bully, because I do believe it can happen by accident or by omission.

If you tease a classmate for being really short, does it hurt their feelings?  Make sure it doesn't - let them know you are just playing.  Everyone playfully teases the people they like, and to teach our kids different is just going to confuse them.  If you see a classmate being hurt - emotionally or physically - get up and defend them.  As a parent, teacher, or doting aunt, it is the adult's job to teach children that even kids they don't like do not deserve to be bullied.

What to do if you are being bullied?  Something I find alarming is that most practical solutions will get the victim into at least as much trouble as the bully.  Retaliate, either physically or verbally?  You get busted, both by the school and frequently by both sets of parents.  To tattle on the bully is counterproductive - he is gonna deny it and then beat you up worse later.  Banding together with the other victims, for some psychological or sociological reason, does not happen.

What to do if you see someone else being bullied? The same logic applies here.  One who intervenes will likely end up in the same situation as one who retaliates.  Teachers have to actually witness the incident themselves before they can take action, but who wants to always hang around the teachers?

So, what do we do?  We, as a society, need to stop this.  Because it ain't just the kids doing it.   As a kid, I was bullied by the same adults that were supposed to be protecting me.  Gym teachers who heard the mocking of my peers and said nothing - or even joined in.  An English teacher branded me a trouble maker, just on the basis of my surname.  Parents, even.  As an adult, it can be co-workers or bosses who give you extra work while they chat.  Your child's teacher who condescends to you because you work at Burger King.  The other parents who refuse to chat with you at pick-up time.

Entire dissertations have been written on why bullies bully.  What it boils down to, really, is because they gain power from it.  We need to take that power.  When your kid comes home with a detention slip because he stood up for himself, or someone else, then do not punish him.  He did the right thing.  Or the wrong thing for the right reasons.  "Bobby got detention for fighting, but his parents didn't ground him" sends a message, and not just to Bobby.

Granted, I'm no expert, and there are always exceptions, but I think the problem with bullying is that we've taken away the Leave It To Beaver solution.  Teach the victim to fight - emotionally, physically, verbally - if attacked. Teach our young to defend each other - even that annoying girl who has a crush on you - from the bullies.  Take back our playgrounds, our parks, our sidewalks.  Hell, even our Internet.  Go on the offensive.

The Customer is frequently wrong.

People now think they can take their pets into a store or restaurant.  All they have to do is claim it is a Service Animal.  Or say something about how cruel it would be to leave Fido in the hot car.  Here's a couple of thoughts on the subject - if you can't be apart from your pet long enough to get some groceries or a Big Mac, there are much bigger issues at hand.  Yes, sometimes things happen you don't expect.  You are coming home from the dog park and realize you need a jug of milk.  That's not what I'm talking about - I'm talking about expecting the staff of a business to let you break the law because you want to be there for at least a half an hour.

If you have one of those Saver Cards that get you ten cents off a gallon "on your next fill up", read the small print.  It's usually your next gas purchase, and if you waste that discount on a smaller one, do not scream at the cashier.  You fell for the hyperbole of advertising - and she did not write the ad.  She also is not allowed to take expired coupons.  

Twelve items or less (grammar Nazi wincing here) means you are not supposed to unload two carts.  If your cashier is underage, she is required by law to call over another person to scan your booze or smoke.  A place is going to close and open according to their clock, not yours.  

If your child is using safety features at the gas station or a cart corral as a monkey bar, do not get bent when the employees ask them not to.  They are just trying to keep your kid alive and the business from being sued. They really are minding their own business.

 

Lookism (as much as I hate -ism terminology)

A proud parent shows you a picture of the offspring holding an Honor Roll Certificate, a diploma, or a degree.  If your response is about the physical attractiveness of the kid, you are the person I'm going to be ranting about.

I see it a lot on social media and it makes my blood boil. There are times when a comment on one's looks is quite appropriate, but the proper response to this sort of thing is "Good job" or "Way to go."  Even "Looking good" might work, as it can be interpreted as "You have a bright future".  But if I win the Nobel Peace Prize and you can only focus on what I look like, you need to just go away. I was, in my youth, a passably attractive woman, but that got me nothing positive.  What I've accomplished in my life, I have done through my brains and my heart.

I did not get a diploma or an AAS by posing in a bikini.  People who need help with school work, or just research in general, don't contact me because they want to look at me.  My nephew did not move me into his house to help raise his son because I'm so pretty.  I do not get rescued from the roadside when my car breaks down because I'm sexy.  

Then there's the fat-shaming and the skinny-shaming.  Unless a person's weight is a health issue, it does not matter.  I'm fat, but if making fun of skinny girls makes me feel better about myself, that's a problem.  Fat or Skinny, you can be beautiful. If it matters.

Either way, if you had to be stranded on a deserted island with a hateful, stupid person or a kind, bright one... would their looks matter?  "I don't have much, but I've got cute kids" tells me nothing that impresses me.  I have helped raise many kids, and I will boast to you about what good people they are or how smart they are.  If they are good-looking, that might come up.  Eventually.

If all you or your kids can accomplish is being ornamental, I pity you and them.  But try to make me or mine be nothing but an ornament, we're gonna tangle.  And I have a very wide definition of "me or mine".  It might well include some of you and yours.

Hobby Lobby

Yes, I am going there.  This entire thing has me irate, but not for the reasons you might think.  For those of you who just awakened from a coma or returned from a desert island, the Supreme Court has given employers (represented by Hobby Lobby) the right to deny female employees birth control - due to religious reasons.

My take on the actual decision is this:  No employer should be able to dictate your insurance if you are paying it yourself through payroll deduction.  A corporation is not capable of worship, except by definition at the altar of God Money.  If you are employed by an actual human being and he is paying for your health care, then and only then should this apply.

It is the outcry that's angered me.  For many years I paid for my work-related insurance through payroll deduction and still the boss could decide what I could have.  Among things denied me were psychiatric medicines and pre-existing conditions.  Hmm... that takes out my Prozac and any diabetic care...  yet I'm paying for the insurance.  It was an economic decision, totally socially acceptable, to deny me coverage for something I needed in order to function and maybe even stay alive. What's different?  I can tell you in a word - SEX   Not the slippery slope of  religion being forced onto the worker.  Not the great ideal of Universal Health Care.  Not even party politics.  SEX

It was fine to deny a Depressive her meds, to take away a diabetic's insulin or a cancer patient's chemo (because they already had the illness when hired).  But now they are taking away the ability to get laid with impunity.  I know not every woman uses birth control for that purpose - they tried to put me on The Pill before I got the hysterectomy - but the simple fact is, most women use birth control for just that.

The boss has no right to tell me I can't get laid, or that I should pay for my own protection. But for many years before this, the boss has had every right to tell me to buy my own medicine that keeps me alive and functioning.  The boss can tell me the demon in my head or the flaw in my pancreas is not covered, but God Forbid he tell me to keep me legs together.

Then we have the other definition of sex.  Since birth control is largely a women's issue, this must be an attack on the women.  We are being targeted because we are female.  It's a total throwback to the caveman days.  Men are evil creatures.  We should deny them sex - but that'd render moot the entire fit I'm having.

Why was it no biggie for God Money to deny people good health but it isn't okay for Jesus to deny you a fun Saturday night?  Where was your anger when care for issues not treated by a chaste lifestyle were being denied workers?  You were probably the same people who said to me "Don't like it? Don't work there."

So - same to you.  If you don't like it, don't work there.

Confused About Gender

I have always objected to gender roles.  I was delighted to hear that McDonald's will no longer refer to their Happy Meal toy selections as "boy toys" and "girl toys".  The first time a McDonald's asked if my Happy Meal was for a boy or a girl, I went ballistic.  Even though I understand that a "boy toy" is called this because most people who want to play with it are little penis-bearers, I still don't like the implication that a female child might burst into flames (or worse, grow up gay) because she plays with one.

Sadly, however, I find the reasoning is not because they want to avoid limiting a kid's options due to gender.  It is because they don't want to be insensitive to "gender confused" children.  Seriously, I have to wonder just how much gender confusion is caused by the very idea of gender roles.

I did a little research and found that most symptoms of Gender Confusion have to do with a child not fitting gender roles.  There are a few genetic anomalies, but otherwise the only symptom I read about that wasn't directly tied into gender roles was this: Some children actually express the desire to be the other sex.  And that might be an indirect thing.  I may have expressed the same wish as a child, not so much because I wanted a wiener, but because I had to lick the soap for saying "up your nose" when my brothers said a lot worse.  Because I was a girl and saying "up your nose" was not lady-like.  Had I been a boy, I might have wished to be a girl because girls didn't have to mow the lawn.

The problem lies in the attitude we, as a society, have about these things.  We believe there is something wrong with a boy who likes Barbie and with a girl who likes Hot Wheels.  Even if your little man wants to wear a pink ruffly dress, this doesn't mean he's Gender Confused.  Maybe weird, but he's probably pretty sure he's a dude - unless he's been told otherwise.  I will admit that none of my male minions have expressed the desire to dress like a Disney Princess, but they've all played with "girl toys" and the gals played with "boy toys".  I'm pretty sure they all know what sex they are.

Little boys get the worst of it.  We have a socially acceptable word for the "tomboy".  But the nicest word I can think of for a girly boy is "sissy".  Hardly the same level of acceptance there.  Might that be the cause of Gender Confusion?  If a child is told something - anything - often enough by the adults in his/her life, they are going to believe it.  A boy raised to think only a girl likes pink?  He might come to think he's a girl, since he likes pink, and thus exhibit the signs of Gender Confusion.

McDonald's contributed to the problem by enforcing, even subtly, gender roles.  Any person or business who refers to toys by gender preference did.  My question is this:  Why is it even a problem?  There will always be people who don't fit the norm, either by design or by choice.  Why not just accept them, as long as they are harmless?  Why do we have to vilify anyone until we are forced to be "sensitive" and then bend over backwards for them?

I Can't Help It

I see so many people who claim they or their children "can't help it" because they are ill or disabled.  Yes, there are things we can't help. My own illness means I have a whispering demon in my head.  It used to be a shouting demon, but my medicine turns the volume down considerably, and I take steps to actively ignore it.

I've got other health problems, too...  I'm diabetic.  I have a lazy thyroid and too much fat in my blood.  I'm overweight.  But none of these gives me the right to disregard my fellow human beings.  Depression is, obviously, the worst of my illnesses.  Because of it, I often do - or want to do - things that compound the others.  I sometimes don't eat, or eat stuff I shouldn't.  I don't get enough exercise.  Checking my blood sugar is too much work.  On the surface, none of that seems like I'm hurting anyone but myself.  But what happens if I pass out or have a heart attack?

There are smaller issues, too.  My few responsibilities to others sometimes are not met.  These people are correct in calling me on it. To claim others should let me get away with slacking off because I "can't help it" is wrong. Just today, I cleaned the litter box and forgot to sweep up the scattered litter around it.  When I was reminded, I did it.  Sometimes, I'm so down I don't even want to bathe.  Should I walk around all stinky and expect everyone else to deal with it because I "can't help" it?

I do ask for help - my family and friends are known to take a cookie right out of my hand or remind me that I have to pick the boy up from school.  Some of them are more tactful than others, but that's okay.  There is no shame in admitting you need help.

There are, and will be, times that the problem gets out of control.  The goal is to minimize those times - so that when they come, others will not ignore my need for extra help or simply for patience.  I minimize those times by controlling my actions.

I see kids today getting away with murder (not literally) because they have one of those Alphabet Soup illnesses.  This is counter-productive.  These kids should be getting taught to work around and deal with the problem, not to hide behind it.  They need to learn how to ask for help, not how to demand subservience. The parents in question think they are helping, but they really aren't.  The real world is not going to accept the excuse.

Second Mom

Well, that day is upon us once again. Social media is overflowing with "Repost this if you love your mother" and "God couldn't be everywhere, so he made Mothers".  Advertisers tell me my mother wants jewelry and chocolates and flowers on her special day. We should always appreciate, but often that becomes taking for granted, so we have a holiday to remind us.

I did not have one of those mothers.  My mother did a lot of things very wrong.  She did have good qualities. It was from her I learned to respect other cultures (Specifically, American Indians, but one thing leads to another.)  She struck terror into the hearts of teachers she felt were dealing unfairly with her children. But the fact is, she should never have been a mother. She simply was not equipped for motherhood.

She did, however, have one of those mothers.  Mamma (pronounced Mam-ma) filled in the gaps to the best of her ability and I worship the ground she walked on.  And there was another, the woman I call my Second Mom.  Not a stepmother (I was never allowed to like her) but the mother of a friend from school.  After over twenty years, that friendship imploded, but Second Mom never turned her back on me.

Both Mamma and Mother are dead now, but every year Second Mom gets a card for Mother's Day.  Even though I was past puberty when I entered her life, she did for me the things a mom should do.  The things Mother didn't do. She helped me through where Mother didn't.  I wish I could see her more often, but circumstances prevent that.

Please, if you comment publicly on this blog, refrain from spewing venom in Mother's direction. This isn't really about her.  It's about Second Mom and how much she still means to me, nearly a decade after I had to walk out of her life for all intents and purposes.

Ancestors

If you could see your ancestors,
All standing in a row, 
There might be some of them, perhaps,
You wouldn't care to know.
But, here's a question which requires a different view: 
If you could meet your ancestors...
 Would they be proud of you?

Someone posted this little ditty in my genealogy group and it set me to thinking.  Would my ancestors be proud of me?  Ashamed?  Indifferent?  So, from what I know of my ancestors, I attempt a reply.  

My ancestors were common folk, mostly farmers and the like.  From what I've heard of them, and the ones I actually have memory of, I don't think my financial status would be of much concern.  They would be more concerned with my work ethic and how I treated people in general.  

My work ethic may not please them.  When I was working, I started out in a job with an excellent ethic.  I'd come in on my days off, work late, clock in early, and do the dirty work.  Yet my spirit would flag quickly, after slights both real and perceived.  Most of the ancestors would, I think, take into account that I have "Nerves".  I'm not sure how I feel about that...  I've always tried not to use my disability as an excuse.  I do stand by my belief that employers need to appreciate those they pay.  To be condescending, to bully, and to exploit are counterproductive.  Often, though, the problem was not nearly as bad as my perception of it.  My ancestors took pride in a days' work well done, and phooey on those who looked down on them.  I somehow am not capable of that.  

I know the fact that I'm 47 and never married (but not a virgin) would alarm many of them.  Either they would see me as a tramp or as the victim of male trickery.   No husband AND no career - some of them would surely see me as someone to pity.  

I've always made it a point to treat others with respect.  I give people the benefit of the doubt.  I become very upset if someone thinks I'm being hateful to them.  If you need ten bucks and I have it, it's yours.  Pay me back when and if you can.  Some of my ancestors might see me as naive or even stupid (plenty of living people do) but I think most of them would be proud of me for that.  

But when it comes down to it, even if they weren't proud, I think they'd find me acceptable.  I've never married or had children, but I'm so good at the Aunt thing I was moved in by a nephew to help with the next generation!  My sister likes to say her son handed his favorite toy (me) down to his son. I've always tried to live by the Golden Rule. I've never been able to keep a job, and there are people I've hurt, but I tried.  And not one of my ancestors is a Jedi named Yoda.

The Lives They Left Behind

"The Lives They Left Behind: Suitcases from a State Hospital Attic" is a group of case studies.  Willard Psychiatric Center in New York closed in 1995, after over 100 years in operation.  A large collection of patient belongings, mostly in the still-packed suitcases they had brought with them, was found in an attic.
The authors of this book chose ten of these patients to research, as a representative sample of the half-million patients Willard had treated.

Being a mental patient myself, and a history buff, I was eager to see what the book had to say.  I expected to walk away with a "Thank God we don't get that treatment anymore" but I was sadly wrong.   On one hand, the book details treatments that are mercifully no longer in use and issues that would be today dealt with on an outpatient basis.  On the other hand, I identified very strongly with the plights of these people.

One of them was a nun, unsure if she'd been defrocked after her Mother Superior was, who simply wanted answers.  Her pleas were ignored by the local diocese and she was committed because she could not cope with life outside the Church.  Had the hospital pushed the diocese for her answers or taught her coping techniques, she could have been 'cured' (in my opinion) within a year.  As it was, the poor woman regressed to childhood and even created her own reality.

Too many of the ten reminded me of my own history.  Not the 'causes' of their problems, but the way in which the world treated them and, in effect, drove them into further madness.  The first signs were ignored or resulted in punishment.  When the patients asked for help, they were hypochondriacs or even just jonesing for attention.(Which begs the question, how bad is it if we must go to those lengths for a little attention?)

One of them was a veteran who was getting the run-around from the military about his pension.  They wanted him to see a psychiatrist.  The psychiatrist told him not to come in until he had the man's records. From what I can tell, he simply lost his temper in public and was institutionalized.  He died at Willard, some forty years later.

These are similar to many of the problems I faced.  From early childhood, I went to those who were supposed to help me and they did not.  My mother blamed me for being molested.  School Faculty did nothing about bullying or about signs that I was, at best, neglected at home. When I lashed out in anger, I was punished.  When as an adult, I went to the boss or even the UFCW, I had an attitude problem.  Even after I was diagnosed depressive, this was the pattern.

Like many of the patients in the book, I eventually found a place were I felt safe and could function.  Unlike them, I have the freedom to come and go as I please.  Society has come a long way towards how we treat the mentally ill, but I'm sad to say it seems not much progress in being made in the area of prevention.  Still we 'mind our own business' or brush aside what we see as trivial concerns.  Still we let the seeds of mental illness take root and grow.  Worse, we fertilize them with propaganda and empty promises.

I recommend "The Lives They Left Behind" for no other reason than this:  It serves as a guide.  It will show the reader what they should NOT do when someone comes to them for help. Like forest fires, I honestly believe that you can prevent madness.  If you can't prevent it, you can at least keep it from reaching catastrophic proportions.

The Evolution of Language

There was many years ago a hoax that someone won an election with the following speech: "Are you aware that Claude Pepper is known all over Washington as a shameless extrovert? Not only that, but this man is reliably reported to practice nepotism with his sister-in-law, he has a brother who is a known homo sapiens, and he has a sister who was once a thespian in wicked New York. Worst of all, it is an established fact that Mr. Pepper, before his marriage, habitually practiced celibacy." 

The mindless masses did not bother to find a definition for these words, according to the story, but simply believed they must be something vile.  The saddest part of all this is the fact that it could happen.  Currently, the politicians and the media are tossing around the word "entitlement" as if it is something a freeloader gets.  That is not the definition of the word.  An entitlement is something you have earned, something you are entitled to.  Freeloaders are not entitled.  The SSDI check I get each month is an entitlement.  The welfare check you get temporarily while between jobs is an entitlement - you paid your taxes, didn't you?  

There is a phenomenon called Cultural Language Shift, which I've heard used to excuse this misuse of the word.  Cultural Language Shift is the way in which languages evolve.  For example, the word celibate originally meant unmarried.  Usually, the unmarried were chaste.  The two words - chaste and celibate - came to be seen as synonyms.  However!  This is brought about by the proper usage of the words in question and takes decades, if not centuries.  

The use of "entitlement" is not a case of Cultural Language Shift.  It is a case of mindless masses believing an extrovert is someone harmful to society.  It is the linguistic version of passing on an urban legend.  "This is the what was meant" is no different from "That's what I heard".   

And while I'm at it, literally does not mean what most of y'all think it does.  

Climate Change

This Polar Vortex that keeps jumping out of the Arctic Circle has fired up a lot of talk about that old chestnut Global Warning, or as they now call it, Climate Change.  My opinion on the subject is pretty simple - humans once again show their conceit by blaming themselves for it.  We have only been crawling around Mother Earth for moments in her time and we've been keeping track of weather patterns for less than a relative second.  It is presumptuous of us to think we've impacted anything.

We have polluted the planet, no doubt, but we don't need to worry about saving the planet.  She was around long before we were and will outlast us by eons.  What we have done to this planet is a flea bite or maybe a bad rash.  We need to become aware that the damage we're doing to the planet is going to hurt us - possibly even kill us.  The things we have caused are nothing more than the planet's immune system trying to wipe out an infection.  We need to worry about saving us.

We can't and never will control nature.  We likely didn't cause and can't stop a polar vortex.  We need to accept that we are not the boss of Mother Earth.  We need to adapt, to evolve, to become a part of her systems and cycles.  Or those same systems and cycles will kill us as surely as they did the dinosaurs.

It won't happen tomorrow, and it won't happen quickly, at least not by our reckoning.  By hers, maybe, but not by ours.  And if we smarten up, it may not happen at all.

Basic Truths About Disability That Are Lies

Basic Truths About Disability That Are Lies:

That disabled person looks fine, therefore they are a fraud.   There are many disabilities that are not easily seen.  My own is a mental problem and I don't "look crazy".  A guy with a slipped disk in his back is not going to look like Quasimodo.  He's gonna look like a guy...  and yes, it can be bad enough to keep him from working, especially if he is uneducated and/or untrained.  My own problem is made worse by job stress...  in fact, the Social Security office told me I can work if I can find a job without a boss, co-workers, or public dealings.  They didn't word it that way, but that's what it came down to.

Anyone can apply and get it real easy. I applied several times, over many years, before I got it.  My successful attempt took three years and I still view it as some kind of miracle.  If you have worked with your 'disability', prepare for a battle.  If your doctor says you can work, you may as well not apply.  

The disabled person has no commitments.   I do light housework every day, I drive a third grader to and from school, I drive an adult to and from work, I have doctor appointments, and I sometimes even socialize.  Do not assume I can do whatever it is you want me to do - be it meet you for lunch or act as Primary Care Giver to an elderly relative.

Disability Income is generous.  I get less than 700 dollars a month.  Granted, my job history was mostly part-time and minimum wage, but even if you've worked decades in a high-paying job, what you are entitled to from Social Security is a pretty low percentage of that income. Your standard of living is not going to remain the same.

It is easy to defraud them.   I've already covered this under the first one, but I want to add something.  If anyone has managed to get through the application and screening procedures without actually having some sort of disability, I applaud them.  He or she is a genius.

Being Disabled is a cakewalk.  Whether your disability is physical or mental, it is not fun or easy to live with.  I spend my days with a freakin' demon inside my head, whispering to me constantly.  The slipped-disc guy can't even take out his trash without pain, or fear of pain.  The lady in a wheelchair is all kinds of inconvenienced.   The very idea of needing to count on others is bad for self-esteem.

 

Guest Blog: Cleo the Bitch Kitty

I'm almost 15 years old and if I get seriously ill, my human will have no choice but to have me put to sleep. Some folks would say she's a bad "owner" because of this, but I do not agree.  My human saved my life in 1999.  I was born under the porch of a mobile home and would have been feral... if I had lived to adulthood.  She has always kept me warm and fed, and kept my litter box clean.  When we had to leave the apartment we lived in, she refused to go anywhere I was not welcome.

Some people equate pets with children.  My human does not do that, and I am okay with it.  Humans outrank pets in the grand scheme of things, if only because they have access to medical cards and food stamps.

Other people equate pets with  -- well, I don't know what, really.  They sure don't treat them with the respect due any living creature you claim to care about.  I've heard talk of dogs tied to a tree and ignored, except at feeding time.  Why?  Pets exist to keep humans company!    If a human is not willing to do a little extra for the sake of the pet, they should not adopt one.  My human sure doesn't enjoy cleaning the litter box, but she does it for me.

My human does her best for me and always has.  I'm a grumpy old lady, something I could never have been without her.  I've never gone hungry or been in danger of freezing to death.  So she would have to have me put down if I got terminally ill - that's what she'd probably choose if she could afford treatment, to be frank.  (She's watched too many of her fellow humans suffer those things.) If you think that makes her a bad "owner" I hiss at you.  I scratch and bite you.