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Profile Information

Gender: Female
Home country: US
Current location: retired to MidWest
Member since: Mon Feb 18, 2013, 10:15 PM
Number of posts: 6,151

About Me

Still an ardent Irish-American Catholic damnYankee Yellow Dog Democrat socialist after all these years. (cue Simon music) Army brat and wife for many years, now have been on the loose far longer than I was married. After my two red chows died, I took in a mini-beagle cross that I named Molly Maguire, thinking she might need a good Irish name like my original real one. Later she got a baby sister, a smooth-coat JRT I named Brigid after the greatest of the ancient Celtic goddesses. My great-grandfather and his son fought for Michael Collins and barely made it out of Ireland one step ahead of John Bull. They slipped over to Wales for new identities and then forward to the States for a fresh start. That makes me second generation of illegal but certainly justified immigrants. There are precious few people to whose defense I fly immediately, but the list includes Hillary Clinton, President Barack Obama even when I disagree with him - it happens! - and living Irish patriots Gerry Adams and Martin \\\'Mind Your Kneecaps\\\' McGuiness. I pray earnestly for a united and free Ireland rescued from all official British occupation, with every square inch of alleged \\\'ancestral lands\\\' now held immorally and illegally by the invaders returned to the rightful owners. Irish-only rule for Ireland. No foreign masters anymore! I find it passing strange when Brits chide ME about \'interfering\' in Irish politics!

Journal Archives


You're a good shrink.

During my varied career years, I could've bought and sold that woman a dozen times over, and I'm sure she was for sale. I'd tell you at least her first name, but that's hazy with me even a short few years later. I tried to push her out of my head as much as possible and when she intrudes I tend to call her "Horseface" because she was ugly as sin on top of it.

But as 'they' say, living well is the best revenge. For me that means freedom of association even if it results in less money. Most of my pleasures at this age are free anyway. Or nearly so. I've got to send DU some $ next month, because it's become such a wonderful part of my day that I really want to chip in. The library has a permanent sale of culled books, and often they put out some from the early 1900's. Just my taste. The current events of that day are history now, and I really prefer my history that way. It shows more about the times.

Of course that's not always palatable. I read one account of the Civil War by Jeb Stuart's nephew, written somewhere in the late 1890's I think. He told about the recapture of one of Jeb's slaves who'd escaped to Union lines, and said the poor bleeper was so glad to see his white folks that Jeb didn't have the heart to whip him. Southern chivalry, right?

Lest anyone misunderstand, as a fan of Matthew Brady I do have a small print of his famous portrait of Robert E. Lee - but it hangs upside down between large portraits of Lincoln and Obama facing each other. To me it makes the point, and that's the point.

Basically Agree

Regardless of whether the topic belongs here in any shape or form, reactions tell a lot about those who make them as much as the story principal. Some things are not fodder for jokes. Period.

I agree that it's a cop-out to gloss over personal responsibility with a too-convenient excuse of mental illness. But I think that one reason people automatically slap that on is more than plain ignorance. They can't face the monstrous nature of some people. It's so scary that the only way to deal with it is to declare the perpetrator must be mentally ill; perhaps this will lessen the danger of Joe or Jane Neighbor committing some such horror because they seem perfectly normal. Certainly none of our relatives would ever go on a killing spree, because OUR family doesn't do bad things! We're all sane! Especially ME!

So the excuse making amounts to whistling in the dark. They can't bear to contemplate the seed of evil inside every human heart. It can be kept at bay on starvation rations, but we all have it. Hiding under the covers has never been a good coping strategy so far as I know.


Followed to its logical (?) conclusion, this would make almost everyone in America guilty of so-called - gag! - bestiality.

What will 1M (hahahaha) Moms want us to do next? Kill all those satanic cats and dogs most of us have? This is worse than wanting to do away with Big Bird, it's dragging his reputation through the mud while they're at it. Leave them go long enough and they'll start insisting that mothers stop cuddling and God-forbid KISSING their little boys because they'll say it promotes incest. I don't even want to think about the warnings we can expect regarding dads kissing their little girls.

This bunch of crazy idiots have all gone off their collective rocker for sure now, and I'll bet it was a short jump.

So for the record, I want to say here and now that I LOVE THE PIG! Only his commercial connection is regrettable, and it's probably not his choice in the first place so why blame him even for that??? Shoving Wall Street as far away as possible, to me he represents freedom and innocence. The very best shows him passing a human on a zip line or ski lift, squealing his sweet little lungs out, and midway there's a pause where he intones, "Pure adrenalin!" and then resumes his joyous squeal as he forges ahead. Who doesn't love that? As something of an adrenalin junkie myself, I take him as downright exemplary.

Now excuse me, I have to go and feed and cuddle AND KISS my little mini-Beagle/Pom dog I named Molly Maguire so she could be Irish too. What does that make ME, you hateful bunch of idiots? Far worse, for 16 years I was blessed with two big red chow dogs who were the most faithful, loving companions and guardians a person could want. One held nightly conferences with me where she'd stand and bark socially for several minutes before bedtime. I don't really know whether she was telling on her sister or what, but it happened every night like clockwork as soon as I said "Let's turn in now, baby girls." I couldn't leave a landline phone anywhere in reach of the alpha because she'd knock off the receiver and stand there barking at it, probably wondering why nobody answered. Is it my fault humans don't speak canine? Whatever she was trying to convey, I'm sure it made more sense than any conservative on earth.

When they eventually had to be put down because their progressive paralysis left them hardly able to walk even when I lifted those 70-lb dogs up front and back, it nearly killed me. They're both buried out back in my yard, together in death as they were in life, and for a long time I wished I were sleeping there with them. Even now it's taken me half an hour to get through this paragraph.

I know it's wrong to hate people, but I damn sure hate the sorry state of their souls if they have any to be concerned for in the first place. Some DU'ers might want to laugh off this conservative nightmare, but I'm telling you it's symptomatic of total rot. If I could reach out and touch one of those sociopaths right now, I'd slap her sillier than she already is.

Me too

I'm 68 in 2 months, and I've forgotten more about street fighting than most of these newborns ever knew or ever will. My main sensei was a man who conducted regular classes for a business, but then the students he liked best got invited to stay after hours for special instruction. When you were ready to buck for a new belt, you got locked in the dojo around midnight and upperclassmen tried to beat the tar out of you. (Sensei was there to keep it from getting out of hand.) The only thing that mattered was whether you wimped out and wanted to leave. Not your technique or lack of it. That could be taught. He wanted to know who'd run, because that's harder to correct.

Even with the strictest discipline, we managed to have fun. One day he mentioned that it's impossible for most people to keep their eyes open with a powerful fist being thrown at their face from close up. I said, "I can do it, Sensei." So he stood me up in front of the class and threw a punch that stopped a nanosecond before smashing my face. But I didn't blink at all. He asked, "How did you manage to do this?" Nobody surprised Mr. Minh very often.

I bowed and said solemnly, "By thinking how rich I'd be if you missed, Sensei."

The whole room burst out in laughter. I was the only one who didn't have to duckwalk around the whole place.


The blurb says McCain might've missed his mark and accidentally slapped the phone out of the photographer's hand. Maybe so if this even actually happened. If it did, I wouldn't put it past the senile old coot to have been aiming for the head. I'm afraid when he said that he didn't know how many houses his family owns, he might've been telling the truth. Like when Ronnie Raygun kept saying he didn't remember things.


I don't intend to lose any sleep worrying about what George wants. What he needs is to wake up and smell the coffee, and I mean soon. Real soon. If he doesn't want to better the world, he can bloody well take a long walk on a short pier.

Well-intentioned cautions against pushing the oligarchs too far too fast fall on deaf ears with me, too. I don't think anyone's likely to need to light a match on purpose. One day one person too many will fall under the grinding wheels of capitalism, and the whole thing will upend on its own. That's been history throughout the ages, without fail, sooner or later. No individual can be truly free while even one is enslaved, economically or otherwise. Harry Bridges was right: an injury to one is an injury to all.


I've been telling people for years that the whole bloody system is on its last legs. You can imagine how they reacted. Now I'm beginning to think I might see it in my own day. FDR's New Deal did not come about purely out of concern for the welfare of the workers. He was a patrician and it was his cabinet secretary Frances Perkins who pushed him into it. Back in those days the oligarchs were terrified of a communist takeover if people kept starving. That's what prompted most of the 'relief'; not compassion but fear.

While I'm not a Marxist myself, I've known more than a few admirable ones and the idea of a well-regulated socialist state is my personal ideal. Contrary to what many think, it's not necessary to become an atheist. Jesus was a socialist. Ghandi said rightly that if Christians actually walked the talk, other religions wouldn't stand a chance. Pope JPII said a good Christian can still be a communist, too. I don't know what the Man in Havana says about it, though. It will be very interesting to see what happens in Cuba over the next several years.

I'll tell you this much, though. I'm going to miss Hugo Chavez when he dies, poor guy. He kept a lot of northeast Americans alive through bad winters with his heating assistance, partnered with one of the Kennedys. I'll take a good communist over a bad capitalist (they usually are) any day of the week. Harry Bridges welcomed them into the Union and refused to expel them because as he said, they made fine workers. Anybody good enough for him is okay by me regardless of where we might disagree.

BTW, did you ever read Jack London's book, 'The Iron Heel'? While it might not've reached the top heights as pure literature, it still made its mark. A very good read, like most of his work. It still speaks to today except for one anachronism: when authorities cornered one of the women, she diverted suspicion by claiming she was about to get married, so how could she be a threat to anyone? Back in those days, such a ruse would've worked!

Not Surprised

As I wrote in my long-winded essay, under the right conditions dyslexia can be a precious gift. I believe it also contributes to various forms of ESP and compatibility with other species. When I had horses, sometimes I'd stand between my two favorite broodmares with my arms across their withers, and it seemed like I could literally feel their spirits flowing through mine.


After watching the entire little video and reading every response ahead of mine, I'd like to toss my two cents in the pot.

The video might be spot on in many respects, and I certainly enjoyed it. But I think most of the apparent misconception it provokes is due to extreme brevity. They picked a huge subject and only threw a little (some mis-)information at it. What can we expect under such limitations. It was foolish for them to think they could begin to explain the universe in a few short minutes.

Although I was dyslexic before most people ever heard of the condition, with the luck of the Irish I could easily access both sides of my brain, together or separately. For the moment let's dodge the matter of depth. We'll discuss that later if you can corner me somewhere. Good luck if you try.

Anyway, my heart breaks for people stuck on one side of the divide or the other. Someone in the family was always reading to me, so I knew how before first grade. It wasn't until we got to printing that I discovered a brick wall. For some reason cursive went well, but at almost 68 I still can't print legibly. True, I do still read slower than some people; but I believe that aids comprehension and retention, and a zebra could hide its stripes easier than I could my love of words.

It turned out to be a fairly easy condition - in my case not really a disability - to hide because I was forced to find creative ways to cope. There are many dyslexics who feel they were given a great gift to be able to see the world in so many ways. I remember how it stunned me to learn that not everyone could play an entire symphony in their head, for instance. None of this made me any smarter, just more versatile than some people.

By far most trouble came from the outside. (Spoiler alert! Long story coming!) For instance, I always read financial periodicals and it was plain as day when the housing bubble loomed over us. That's the main reason I decided to sell when the rate of increase slowed, well before it peaked. That meant leaving for retirement a little earlier than otherwise advisable, but I didn't want to get stuck in place and wind up underwater either. So I sold when most people's eyes were still glazed over. They're now the ones who can never afford to retire.

That landed me here, trying to eke out a living on the profits for over 3 years until I could really retire. So toward the end of that period I somehow managed to slip into a little part time job at a state office. No problem there because I didn't intend to stay too long. But when the main manager failed to convert me to her church, she got real nasty. They were still using an antiquated computer program in DOS, with reams of convoluted printed instructions.

Anyway, though my trainer said I was learning at a good clip, I decided to go one better. On my own time I pored over the manual and reduced it to a nice tiny graph that I could tape to the bottom of the monitor and keep my place in the program's ridiculous DOS thicket. The trainer not only verified the graph's accuracy but said I'd mastered the system (more like 'broke the code') faster than anyone she'd ever seen. I love her to this day.

The stinky boss, however, started filching my tiny graph when my back was turned like the sneaky stinky coward she is. Finally I started removing it myself when I left the desk for a second. Then she openly forbade its use. So each morning I inked it on my right palm and kept it out of her sight. When she caught me at that finally, all hell broke loose. She said she had written the program herself (that figures, I thought) and that it takes anybody at least a year to learn it. (What's wrong with this picture, I thought, having been there only 2 months) When I finally said well, I'm dyslexic and can follow the graph easier, she had no freakin' idea in 2007 what dyslexia meant. I told her it merely meant that my brain was wired a little different from hers.

After showing her up by cracking the ridiculous code she was so proud of in a few days' effort, I guess that wasn't the most politic thing to say to her. She almost screamed, "I NEVER WOULD'VE HIRED YOU IF I'D KNOW YOU WERE DEFECTIVE!"

That's pretty much where we parted company because I called her a stupid B and walked out. Two months of her was more than I could stand. For a few weeks everyone I ran into from the office high-fived me. Damn, it felt good.

So no, dyslexics are not necessarily less intelligent than constipated single-plane people. And yes, many of us do get a lot of gaff from ignorant and vicious idiots. Sadly not all are equipped to handle the garbage thrown our way. Those of us who can and do eventually kick back are labeled 'difficult' at best. And I'm so dumb I wouldn't trade places with anyone else in the world.


are no more than anarchists in Sunday suits.

As to where to start, start where you are. And you can't afford to worry too much about whether it looks like you're making any headway, because we can't always see that. But you still have to keep plugging away. And I don't hold myself up as any kind of role model, because truth to tell, when push shoves hard long enough, I succumb and show them up for the crazy fools they are. Would you believe that crazy bus driver runs out of the store and hides on his bus if he sees me now? He claims it's a matter of (purely imaginary) honor, but the fool's half scared to death because he thinks I'm crazier than he is.

Maybe that's a tossup!
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