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Can I Get Another Amen?

VOTE FOR RON PAUL.

Please. He's the only guy making any sense anymore. Check out his website. Read his history and where he stands on issues. Google him. Vote in online polls for him. Anything!

A sampling of Ron Paul quotes from www.brainyquote.com:

A system of capitalism presumes sound money, not fiat money manipulated by a central bank. Capitalism cherishes voluntary contracts and interest rates that are determined by savings, not credit creation by a central bank.
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All initiation of force is a violation of someone else's rights, whether initiated by an individual or the state, for the benefit of an individual or group of individuals, even if it's supposed to be for the benefit of another individual or group of individuals.
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Astonishingly, American taxpayers now will be forced to finance a multi-billion dollar jobs program in Iraq. Suddenly the war is about jobs. We export our manufacturing jobs to Asia, and now we plan to export our welfare jobs to Iraq, all at the expense of the poor and the middle class here at home.
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Capitalism should not be condemned, since we haven't had capitalism.
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Cliches about supporting the troops are designed to distract from failed policies, policies promoted by powerful special interests that benefit from war, anything to steer the discussion away from the real reasons the war in Iraq will not end anytime soon.
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How did we win the election in the year 2000? We talked about a humble foreign policy: No nation-building; don't police the world. That's conservative, it's Republican, it's pro-American - it follows the founding fathers. And, besides, it follows the Constitution.
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I am absolutely opposed to a national ID card. This is a total contradiction of what a free society is all about. The purpose of government is to protect the secrecy and the privacy of all individuals, not the secrecy of government. We don't need a national ID card.
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I believe that when we overdo our military aggressiveness, it actually weakens our national defense. I mean, we stood up to the Soviets. They had 40,000 nuclear weapons. Now we're fretting day in and day and night about third-world countries that have no army, navy or air force.
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I have never met anyone who did not support our troops. Sometimes, however, we hear accusations that someone or some group does not support the men and women serving in our Armed Forces. But this is pure demagoguery, and it is intellectually dishonest.
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Legitimate use of violence can only be that which is required in self-defense.
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Our country's founders cherished liberty, not democracy.
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Setting a good example is a far better way to spread ideals than through force of arms.
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The moral and constitutional obligations of our representatives in Washington are to protect our liberty, not coddle the world, precipitating no-win wars, while bringing bankruptcy and economic turmoil to our people.
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The most important element of a free society, where individual rights are held in the highest esteem, is the rejection of the initiation of violence.
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Throughout the 20th century, the Republican Party benefited from a non-interventionist foreign policy. Think of how Eisenhower came in to stop the Korean War. Think of how Nixon was elected to stop the mess in Vietnam.
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War is never economically beneficial except for those in position to profit from war expenditures.
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When one gets in bed with government, one must expect the diseases it spreads.
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You wanna get rid of drug crime in this country? Fine, let's just get rid of all the drug laws.
Ron Paul

So what do you think? I love this guy. What he has to say paints red circles around the rest of them, complete with slanty line through the middle.

I'm not normally very political as far as stumping for a candidate or being involved in a particular party. But frankly I've had it. I want a change. I want our country back. Don't you? Ron Paul wants to give it back to you and I. I want people to once more be confident enough in their country and leadership that they don't feel the need to vote for control freaks for protection. I want Ron Paul for president.

Holiday

- green day

Posted by Bullyland at 01:07 PM | Comments (32)

39 and holding and I still miss you

I'm not one to toot about my birthday, in fact most years I lay low and quietly hope they'll forget about it. But it's usually right next to, if not on, Mother's Day and pretty hard to forget.

This year I felt...let's say...less than celebratory. All I could think about was my brother - how he never forgot my mom on Mother's day - even usually giving or making me a card. With my brother, you wished for a homemade card, since they were the best. He was so funny and drew the cleverest pictures. I couldn't bear the thought of him not getting my mom a card this year, so I picked one out for him. My dad thought that was weird, but my mom loved it.

Well, we decided to have my birthday cake on Mother's Day, since my actual birthday was on a Monday. On Sunday, I sat on my parents' porch and had a "moment." Toward the end of his life, my parents' porch was on some days, highlights of my brother's day. He'd be watching TV and I would say, "Are you ready?" and his face would usually light up, or alternately, he'd roll his eyes at my ridiculous question. Of COURSE he was ready to go outside. I would help him out there and into a patio chair for some fresh air and an American Spirit ciggie. Sometimes my older son would join us. Sometimes we'd play the stereo loud enough to hear on the porch. He wasn't very talkative at that stage and I'd spend the time outside rambling on and on, hoping that I was entertaining him. He'd either laugh at me (I'd told a good joke), or roll his eyes at me (I'd told a bad joke), or raise his eyebrows (he doubted my story).

On Sunday as I was sitting on the porch, I could practically see him sitting there under the sun umbrella. I could see him stubbornly trying to get his cigarette butt into the narrow opening of an old Gatorade jug, hands shaking but making it into the hole nonetheless. The jug is still there, his butts still in it. I cried like a baby.

I shouldn't have let myself get so melancholy at my birthday cake, since the kids were there, but I couldn't help it. I was born on the fourteenth, the same day that my brother died. I don't know if I'll ever want to celebrate my birthday again, so for the time being, I'm 39 and holding.

Posted by Bullyland at 11:01 AM | Comments (3)

I Haven't Been Ignoring You!!

I recently found out that my friend was being blocked from submitting comments to my blog - I am happy to report that problem is fixed. It seems she wasn't the only one being blocked. If you've received this message in the past:

"Thank You for Commenting

Your comment has been received. To protect against malicious comments, I have enabled a feature that allows your comments to be held for approval the first time you post a comment. I'll approve your comment when convenient; there is no need to re-post your comment. Return to the comment page"

or something similar, and still haven't seen your comments, email me at ashtabulababy@yahoo.com and let me know. Thanks!

Posted by Bullyland at 01:27 PM | Comments (2)

Our society is enabling drama queens!

I had an accident on Friday afternoon. At the intersection of Maplewood & Woodbury, you know, that busy "Y" intersection, I rear-ended a guy. Now, before you start thinking what an ass I was, let me defend myself. It was rush hour and we were both stopped waiting for an entrance onto Woodbury. He found his and started to go, and after my stop, I started to go too, and then he stopped again. I heard a "POP" and realized I'd bumped him.

I thought, oh man, what the flim flam! I had my son's and my dogs with me and my plan was grab an iced coffee and take them to the dog park. This would suck to have them in the car for a while on a hot day, in the middle of an intersection. Well, I barely tapped him so I figured there wouldn't be more than perhaps a couple of scratches. I got out of my car and was very relieved to see absolutely no damage to either car. I mean, he had a brand new Nissan Versa, shiny black monochrome bumper, and there wasn't even a mark you could rub out with your thumb. Yes!! Then, I noticed he wasn't exiting his car. I thought, well, maybe he just wants to leave, but he should at least check that there's no damage. So I went up to his window and he's gripping the steering wheel for dear life, rolling his eyes in all directions a la Marty Feldman and saying, "My back! My back!" I remember thinking, how is that possible? I barely tapped the guy. He started freaking out, saying things such as this had never happened to him before, and he wasn't sure what to do, and he knows that after an accident you're supposed to call the police and not move your vehicles...

I could see the guy was more shook up than he should have been. I mean, I didn't have to look twice to see that the guy was a bit of a drama queen. At first, I thought he looked familiar, like I may have met him before. Then I realized that was because he looked a little like James Spader, if Picasso had imagined him. He had unusual facial angles, and eyes that kind of rolled about even when he wasn't rolling them about on purpose. Anyway, I said, "Are you going to be okay? If it'll make you feel better, there's no damage to your car." He continued to freak out but eventually got out of his car and made his way back to the bumper. "You're right! I can't believe it. There's not even a scratch! You've got to love a Nissan!" I said, "Yes, man, that'll be the next car I buy. What luck."

I'd already written my insurance info down for him, not really knowing what for because there was no damage, but it was clear I had to, since he'd already called his insurance company. He went back to the front of the car to get his info and at that moment an Amesbury EMT truck pulled up. The EMT came over and asked me if everything was okay. "I'm fine, the cars are fine, but he says his back hurts."

The EMT told the guy that if his back was hurt he shouldn't be up walking around and led him back to his driver's seat. The EMT then proceeded to radio for local help. Next thing I knew there was the ambulance, the fire truck and a cop on a motorcycle.

I watched from the other side of my car as the medical personnel had the guy answer some questions, do a few duck squats, reach for the sky, and then someone determined that he was good to drive off, or he refused the ambulance, I don't know which. I heard him complain to someone that the firemen seemed more concerned about my dogs than him. No one wanted to tell him, well dumbass, that's because the dogs are sitting in a hot car in the middle of the sun because you have to be a drama queen about absolutely nothing! No one had the heart or the balls to tell the guy he was wasting everyone's time and valuable resources, and that he needed to shut up and get moving. No one (myself included, I'll admit!) had the heart or the balls to tell the guy the truth. "THERE'S NOTHING WRONG WITH YOU, GO HOME." The cop looked at the cars and said we could pull our cars over to exchange info. The guy asked the cop if we did the right thing by not moving the cars, and the cop replied that since there was no damage, it would have been fine to move them out of the way.

The guy, Paris M. as I found out when I gave him my info, was still half-heartedly emoting about his back after the EMTs and firemen had left the scene. I was at a complete loss as to how to handle him. I was absolutely speechless over everything that had transpired. Had I had the luck to hit a normal human being, we would have looked at each other's cars, laughed, said how lucky we were and drove our separate ways.

I hate drama. According to my friends, I've turned into a virtual hermit and the main reason may be that I hate drama. I can't understand anyone who likes it. I can't understand anyone who creates it. I can't understand Paris M.'s desire to make a mountain out of a molehill, to want to go through paperwork and red tape.

I got a call from our insurance company - turns out we share the same company - and was asked to make a recorded statement about what happened. As I told my story I really bit my tongue and held back the negative adjectives regarding Paris. When I got to the point about being lucky there was no damage, the agent stopped me. "Mr. M. said there were some scratches and scuffs, and he's taking it in to get an estimate. We'll be taking care of all that for you, so you won't have to worry about anything."

"Wait a minute," I said. "You don't understand. I know I'm at fault, but there was NO damage. Not even a smudge you could wipe off with a cotton ball. How could he claim there was any damage?"

The agent said well, he had. I said. "Hold on one second. Since I'm being recorded, I just want to say for the record that Paris himself said - quote - 'You're right! I can't believe it. There's not even a scratch! You've got to love a Nissan!' - unquote - and frankly I don't understand how he had the nerve to get an estimate. What's he going to say to the body shop? Paris: 'I'd like an estimate on repairs for my car.' Bodyshop guy: 'For what?' Paris: 'To see how much it'll cost to buff out those invisible scratches.' I mean, if I were him, I'd be embarrassed. I'm embarrassed for him. What a drama queen."

The insurance agent laughed a little, a little taken aback by my forthright comments, obvy. He mentioned that he would have it looked into. Clearly, he as well as everyone else in this world has been conditioned to "be nice" instead of telling it like it is. Someone should have probably called Paris on his melodrama when he was 5 or 6 years old, then maybe he wouldn't be a forty-year old loser who has to make a big deal out of nothing, get the cops, the ambulance, the fire department all involved and tax dollars wasted for nothing - save a little attention.

The more I thought about it, the more angry I became. I had Paris' contact info in my hand. I grabbed my phone, planning on getting him on the phone and calling him on his lies and his drama.

Then I remembered a long talk me and my mom had just had with my 8 year old about his anger. He's been losing his temper a lot lately, and a lot of drama has become of it. I'm trying to nip this bad habit in the bud - that habit of jumping the gun and getting angry or melodramatic over small, everyday things.

I felt as though I couldn't very well call Paris and chew him out if I was preaching the exact opposite to my son. So I took a few deep breaths, relaxed my clenched fists, hung up the phone, and forced myself to laugh. I started giggling, then laughing, then got the hiccups, then I started feeling - gasp - empathy for Paris. This poor dude has such a boring life that he not only had time for - but created - the extra footwork for himself making a big deal out of this nonissue.

Then I picked up the phone again and instead of dialing Paris' phone number, I dialed the insurance company.

"I forgot to mention the fact that there was a motorcycle cop at the scene, along with four firemen and two EMTs. You may want to get the police report as I'm certain it will include the fact that there was zero damage to either car - as well as the names & contact info of the six other professionals who witnessed the car and the fact that Paris was doing duck walks and refused the ambulance. Just in case you really did want to investigate, you know, to save your company from a little fraud by not pandering to the drama queens."

"Thanks - we didn't know about the police or the fire department or ambulance. We are definitely looking into it."

You're welcome. I'm just doing my part in preventing America's enabling of melodrama.

Post script: My friend Heather is an EMT in Manchester. Upon hearing this story, she declared, "Welcome to my world, sweetheart."

Posted by Bullyland at 11:11 AM | Comments (9)