Protesting vs Rioting

Well, this election has brought us to a new low in American behavior.  I didn't vote for the man, I've never liked the man, but guess what?  He is the choice, apparently, of The People.  Some civilized folks are talking of petitions and abolishing the Electoral College, which I can get behind.  Work within the system to change it - that was the intent of our Founding Fathers.

However, these civilized folks seem to be a minority.  My social media is full of decidedly uncivilized stories.  "Not my President" says the same people who scorned folks for saying it four years go.  Those who did support the President-Elect are dancing around like four-year-olds singing "nanner nanner boo boo".

I"m not going to repeat my speech about checks and balances.  I'm not going to bother to tell you he can't kick down the Oval Office door like Bill Cosby's dad and repeal standing laws on a whim.  I'm just exhausted from saying it.  What I am going to do is define a couple words for the media.

A protest is peaceful.  A riot is not.  The moment a "protester" hurts another person physically or damages property, they become a "rioter".  The two words are not synonyms, and they certainly do not change definition because the reporter agrees or disagrees with their position.  If I go stand in public with a big sign, I am not a rioter just because you don't like what my sign says.  If I beat up people and break windows, I am not a protester just because you think I have a point.

Protesters do not physically attack folks that disagree with them.  Protesters do not bust things up and set things on fire.  Protesters might yell insults, they might jump to conclusions about you based on your appearance (Who doesn't?), but when they cross that line and do physical harm, they stop being protesters.  They become rioters.

About rioting...  what do these people hope to accomplish?  Has anyone even had their mind changed by getting beat up or having their house burned down?  Oh, they might seem to, but they don't.  They get mad.  KKK visits in the 1860s led to race riots in the 1960s.  And the Civil Rights Movement - which, since it was civilized, did bring change.

OK, I'm putting away my soap box now.

A Place Of My Own

The boy is twelve now, hardly in need of 24 hour supervision and able to do most of the chores that had been mine.  I started feeling rather useless, even though the family jumped up and down and insisted I was not!  There were also some minor personality issues. (I like sunshine and fresh air, they are vampires. I like to get 'er done, they procrastinate.)

Some folks seem to believe that I was kept in a deep dark dungeon and only let out to be a slave.  Looking at my history, there is a basis for this.  I have been known to stay in emotionally abusive relationships for far longer than needed, and even to defend the meanie.  But it is an insult to Josh and Chelle.  They treat me with more respect than most of the planet does.

I worried a lot about using my freeloading abilities to take more than I really needed, but several friends and family encouraged me to do it.  So I did.  I now have my own open window, sunshiny apartment with the help of those government programs for folks like me.  It's a nice little place and the only problem I've had is the smell of cigarette smoke.  Air fresheners are my friends.

I did have to leave Cleo behind, but she's happy at Josh and Chelle's.  Moving at the advanced age of seventeen might have been too much for her, anyway, and I do get to see her since I visit often.  I find myself talking to the Barbies.  I guess that's all right as long as they don't reply. 

Getting all my financial ducks in a row has been a little rough.  I'd saved the money for rent and deposits, big stuff like that, but the incidentals?  I had to buy a broom!  And a kitchen trash can!  Every time I turn around it, it seems like there's another small thing I need to buy.  Most of the big stuff is hand-me-downs - my family and friends are still offering me stuff.  

The conditions of my lease (IE limits on how long guests can stay) will protect me from being taken advantage of.  There's a reason Josh calls me The Big Sucker Lady...   So here I am, enjoying the sunshine and listening to Cat Stevens.  Maybe later I'll even open a window.