Feminist or Victimist?


Back in the dark ages of the 1970’s women declared themselves to be feminists by burning their bras, and protesting Viet Nam. They cried, “I am WOMAN, hear me ROAR” while prancing around bare breasted to declare their freedom from oppressive males. Yee Haw, no longer ladies but WOMEN! And a lot of the regular women went along with the hard core man haters as they were bullied and shamed into standing “with the sisterhood.” Personally, I thought the whole thing was silly and embarrassing.

I didn’t need a bunch of females telling me how to be a woman, nor did I need to join a group of man haters and burn my bras to feel free. I didn’t need to have sex with everyone to feel empowered, and I sure as hell was not going to let anyone bully me into being a pathetic follower. I was, and always have been, always will be, a strong, independent minded, fully functional, intelligent, lady. Meaning, I have manners, morals, and a mental altitude geared toward compassion, motherhood, and being a wife and partner to my husband.

However, the hater feminists screamed louder, and the younger set fell for their lies and consummate bullying tactics, and we are now in our third generation of feminist females. I don’t have a clue what women find attractive about that title. More than a few have followed the Gloria group, declaring they deserved to have it all. A partner, kids, and a career that made them feel powerful. That the glass ceiling had to fall, and they would be the generation of women to do it. Yawn… whatever.

What happened is there are generations of kids who were raised in day care instead of their mothers. The women spent their lives torn between career and kids. And if there was time, a moment or two a week with their partner, who still had to work to fulfill the American dream of a home, a car, and two vacations a year. One with and one without the kids. Many longed to stay home, but were pressured by the mantra of the haters to do all and be all – and to be treated just like a man in all ways. Except in a special way. – Politically correct, you know, like they were delicate flowers deep inside.

So, look what we have forty years later. Feminism has turned into Victimism. Women no longer ROAR, they whimper. They no longer burn bras, they think they need to either prance about in a vagina costume, or cover up to support Sharia law. The haters are angry because their plan didn’t work, so they hate men even more, although it is more likely they drove more women away every generation with their vitriol spewing violence. They demand equality, and once they got it, they hated it. Because they weren’t special any longer, but just another cog in the wheel of the working wonks of the world, and that isn’t faaaair…. Be careful what you ask for, it just might bite your right on your ego.

Now, victimism has managed to emasculate every traditional male role, and it has made something as normal as appreciating the beauty of a female body illegal. Feminist flaunted their bodies and told women that it was something they should take pride in showing off. So, women dressed like they were walking sex on display, and now they are whimpering victimists because some guy, or another female, looked at them. Just looked. Well, if you look like a street walker, expect people to see a street walker.

Once, women were treated with respect by benefit of being a female. No longer. We are no longer valued by men as a loving companion, mother, or lover. We are treated just like any other guy, and with less respect than ever. Feminist saw the light in the 1990’s, and decided the way to force their issues was to become victims of Every. Single. Thing. Victimism is the new feminism of the twenty first century. They want fair, but not equal. Fair is not an option in most real life situations. Equal makes them feel demeaned – go figure – and that makes them victimized via being a feminist. Yes, I know, vastly vexing and illogical.

The roaring women of the 1970’s have fallen on hard times. There is no pride in sisterhood, it is every woman out for herself, and the wimpy males that hover in the background are the whipping boys of the future generation of women. Every feminist screamed defiance. Every victimist screams they are demeaned. Listen carefully the next time the likes of Ashley Judd gets in front of a bunch of other females. Hatred, anti male, anti family, anti women who disagree with the agenda, angry, bitter, vitriol spewing victimism all over those who just want to be normal, every day, honest to heaven, women, moms, wives, partners, and most of all happy.

I am not a victim, and I am sure as hell not a feminist. I am a woman, I don’t need to roar, a smile and a chat works wonders to solve issues. Oh, and I quite like men as friends, much more than shrewish victimist females.

Letting Go


It is that time of year again. High school graduation is looming, and prom season is upon us. I am seeing a lot of folks on social media who have kids in their last year of high school, who are young adults, according to the laws of the land, getting ready to head out into the adult world of college and work. Suddenly, all those parents are lamenting that their baby is grown up and leaving them behind.

I didn’t. I mean, sure I would miss them being around all the time, but if you have done your job as a parent correctly, then it is time for junior to head out and grow up. As parents, we only have our children on loan anyway. The goal is to have them become adults with lives and families of their own, no matter what that family looks like. So why all the crying and wailing that they are doing exactly as they are meant to do?

Selfishness, perhaps. A feeling of losing control? Maybe feeling like your purpose is changing and it is something you aren’t ready for, nor is it something that you like? Well, heck, folks, you have had eighteen years to get used to the idea. I wanted my kids to grow up and get on with life.

Of course I worried, because, like most adults, I knew the things out in the world that could hurt them, drag them down, frustrate them, scare them, and annoy them. I knew they would have to pay bills, eat, clothe, and take care of themselves, without mommy and daddy to do it for them. I knew that they would have to figure out how to balance income versus outgo in their bank accounts, I knew they would need to understand credit cards are a financial trap. I knew they would need to understand how taxes work, and that they had to be aware of every penny they would have to pay, and how to do their taxes or who to take them to so they could be done correctly. I knew they would have to learn how to make a deal for a car, and what needed maintenance on a regular basis. I knew they had to know that making a decision about paying a debt or having fun wasn’t really a decision, other than to make sure the debt was paid first.

I knew that my child would no longer be a child to most people, but an adult student or employee. As such, they would be expected to act like an adult. That meant understanding that your boss is not your equal, nor is he or she your friend. Your boss tells you what to do, and like him or her or not, you will do what you are told. An adult works hard, and gets paid for said work. A student, if not paying their own way, is there to learn and do well in school so he or she can get a paying job in a career of their choice. They have one job. Graduate at the end of the four years. To do that, they have to stop playing like teenagers and start studying like it is a job.

If we have done our job as parents correctly, our kids will be ready to leave home and move forward in their lives. From teaching them how to cook, clean, and do laundry to teaching them how to deal with finances, bank books, and car maintenance, it is our job to make sure they know how to do everything an adult needs to do. If you have done that, and they have had part time jobs learning how to function in a work place and in public without being a childish brat, then they know the basics of being an adult. Bravo, you did it!

Now, all they need is more experience. The only place they are going to get that is outside your comfy nest. Be there if they sincerely need help, but encourage them to learn how to deal with life on their own. If they know Mom and Dad will fix everything, they will never learn to trust themselves to make a decision, and they will never truly leave home and become an adult. Let them go, let them learn. Love them as the adults they are and will be. Then go do something fun for yourself. You earned it.

Twenty Senior Moment Thoughts


  1. The moments after you wake up and nothing hurts, and suddenly you think you might be dead.
  2. You can’t argue with someone who doesn’t have on his hear aids.
  3. Telling your grandchildren how things used to work in your world compared to their world leaves them thinking you are either a liar, or crazy.
  4. Food isn’t nearly as interesting as it used to be, especially if you have to do the cooking.
  5. Getting to the the bathroom and back in the middle of the night without hurting yourself, tripping on a pet or shoes, or stubbing your toe on the bed frame is considered a victory.
  6. Taking a shower without someone else in the house to help if you fall is a daring thing.
  7. Running is not an option. Don’t care how big and scary it is. Not happening.
  8. No one cares if you suck in your stomach, because people actually look at your face to see if you can their read lips.
  9. You can say anything you want, no one dares take on the ticked off old lady.
  10. If you have your walker with you, people let you go to the front of the line. Really. They do.
  11. You can tell other people’s bratty kids to stop behaving like a brat. It scares the crap out of the kids, and embarrasses the parents.
  12. When someone young complains about how hard life is, you can mock them by telling them, “Child, you have NO idea how hard life can really be.”
  13. Going out means going to the grocery or out to eat so you don’t starve. Otherwise, why bother.
  14. Music from your era is now elevator music. Scary to hear “Taking Care of Business” played with violins and muted horns. Very scary.
  15. It is easier to relate to old people. I mean really old people, like your parents old.
  16. It is harder to relate to your grandchildren or great grandchildren because, well, they just don’t get interpersonal relationships. They have techno friends instead.
  17. Language doesn’t mean what it used to mean. Slang has evolved into everyday speech, and proper English has disappeared in conversations.
  18. Try explaining how short cut words and TEXT speech are impossible to say out loud, do it often enough that it drives kids nuts. R U does not spell ARE YOU. Really, it doesn’t.
  19. It no longer matters if you wear pajamas all day long. It is just practice for the day you are in a nursing home or left at the funny farm.
  20. Being grumpy and ticked off is the best way to get your daily aerobic exercise for your heart. Less sweaty too.

I Will NOT Feel Guilty About Christmas Gifts.


I saw a meme on Facebook today that left me speechless, for all of four seconds, then I was totally ticked off. I do NOT like it when people try to manipulate me in any way, and this was exactly what the meme was trying to do.

Basically, it calls people on the carpet for buying nice gifts for their children and labeling them from Santa Claus. Because, after all, some other child might not get anything as nice as a laptop or phone, they may only get gloves and a scarf or something less expensive from the man in red. Therefore, those of us who give our kids something from ‘Santa’ that is more expensive will cause hurt feelings if they share what they got with those less fortunate. In other words, we have to limit what we spend on our kids, or we are guilty of flaunting our wealth, and that makes us evil people.

Quite frankly, that is a load of bull$*(*#!!! If you have kids young enough to believe in Santa, they won’t give a flip how expensive the gift is, because it will be from Santa! That is all that matters. If they are old enough to know the cruel truth of who bought them the gift, then they won’t be upset because it will be from you no matter what name is on the package. Sometimes the logic of the knee jerk emotional response people baffles me. No, the logic of such people always baffles me.

Why would it be my responsibility how your child reacts to what my child receives for Christmas or any other time a gift is offered? I don’t expect you to buy your children’s gifts based on my income or what my child might want. It is utterly ludicrous to suppose that anyone should be involved in gift giving between myself, my children or grandchildren but us.

Everyone knows Christmas comes around every December 25th. Everyone knows that we give gifts to one another in remembrance of the gift we received from God in the Savior, and in the gifts the Magi gave to the Christ child. We know it is coming all year long. I do not understand why everyone waits until the last possible minute to recognize the expense, whether in dollars or time and effort, that will be added to the budget. So let me explain how we do things.

In January, I take my empty Christmas money jar, and start putting back as much as I can from my budget. Some months it is more, some less. I have a goal of one hundred dollars per child or grandchild, a bit less for the babies as they are happy with wrapping paper and boxes until about the age if two. I also factor in things like baking goods, baskets, and wrapping paper to the fund. As I save each month, I start a file from each kid or grandchild about the things that they are interested or would like to have. It gives me a bare bones budget from which to work.

Around the end of October, I start shopping in earnest. I look for sales, coupons, two for one sales, any way to save money and still buy them what they want. It doesn’t matter if it comes from Santa or me, each gift is carefully chosen and paid for with CASH. No debt here, thank you very much. By Christmas, I have spent my savings, prepared goodie baskets for my friends and neighbors, wrapped all the gifts, and have everything set for a family dinner.

Even on a limited income, this can work as long as you are diligent about saving and keeping the funds for Christmas. The trick is to be determined not to waste the funds on other things. If it is in the Christmas jar, nothing short of a life and death situation will get it out of the jar before Christmas. My point is, that anyone can give their children nice things, if they want to work hard enough for it.

Sure I will go without other things, and maybe I won’t have that extra whatever I wanted, but at the end of the day, did I really need it? How many pairs of shoes, or handbags, or goodies does one need to be healthy? Not too many. I would rather see my granddaughter’s face light up with joy at her “Santa” present, or have a heart felt hug from my son for the item he has wanted for a long time, but didn’t want to spend money on with a family to feed.

So, back to the meme, get over it people. No one is responsible for your family but you. My family comes first, and what I have left over, I share willingly and for as far as I can stretch it. Maybe it will only be a basket of Christmas cookies and muffins, but it is given with love and appreciation to my friends and family.

Don’t try to manipulate or guilt people into shame for doing well, working hard, and giving generously, be it from “Santa” or from Nana and Papa. It makes you look inept, immature, and impractical. It used to be people stood up for themselves, they didn’t expect everyone else to feel sorry for them and make life easy. Be honest with your children. They aren’t stupid, they know if you are wealthy or if you are barely making it. So, work hard, save hard, give with love, and teach your children to do the same.

Come Christmas Time


I am one of the odd ducks that happens to be fully ambidextrous and, according to all the tests I took in college, I have a brain that is exactly balanced between the right and left sides of the brain. What this means, actually, is I spend more time figuring out which hand to use to do what task, and I argue with myself on almost every single issue.

Emotions in public embarrass me, so that makes logic a good choice, except emotional people think I am cold and unfeeling because I give a logical response. If others get emotional, with good reason, I have empathy for them, but I probably won’t join them in a crying jag, hysteria, or temper tantrum. On the other hand, or side, I get hurt and angry, and I am capable of having a tantrum, I just usually turn to sarcasm, facts, and downright snobby rhetoric to let others know how upset I am.

The biggest battle I face with myself, is admitting that I am such a softie when it comes to anything to do with children, my family, my country, my religion. I can be brought to tears just hearing the National Anthem, and nothing gets to me like seeing a flag flying against the sky. Only years of self control has kept me from breaking out singing God Bless America at a flag raising. See, Embarrassing.

I love my family. I have the most wonderful children, grandchildren, great grandchildren, and all the steps and add on family that comes with them. I have a husband of 45 years who has grown old with me that I love in more ways than I can say. I am deeply proud of all of them, even the one that has gone on before us brings me pride and joy. I admit, blushing, that when I see them do something that brings them joy, I have to fight tearing up. After all, they don’t want to see an old, weepy lady sobbing all over them. So I have learned to suck up the tears and smile with pride, and enjoy their achievements. Holding a grandchild for the first time is magical, sacred, and fulfilling in a way only a parent can understand. It is a continuation of all that we are. But, I never cry, nor do I laugh out loud, the logic side keeps me under control enough to be excited, but calm. None of that means I don’t feel emotion, I am just more comfortable with keeping it close and personal.

Music brings me to deep emotions, especially music that speaks to my religious being. My country and all that it was founded on is as much a part of me as my name. That patriotic belief comes from my ancestors who both founded the United States, and those that were here to meet the ships as they came in.

So, as I sit here with my fifty-fifty brain, we are once again embarking on Christmas and all it means to me. I secretly LOVE Christmas. I start planning gifts and decorations in mid-summer, and can hardly wait until Thanksgiving is over to begin my Christmas plans. I love the bright lights, glittery decorations, brightly wrapped packages, Christmas trees, baking, and all that goes into it the family traditions that our melded family celebrates. It makes me HAPPY!

On the emotional side, I love the deeply religious meaning of this time of year. The sacred music, the beautiful story of the birth of Christ, the amazing story of Mary, mother of the Savior, and the abiding love of Joseph for both of them makes me feel filled with love and understanding for all other mothers and fathers. Though our struggles may be different, we, as parents, have same love for our children.

This is the one time of the year I tell my logical side to zip it and take a holiday. Oh, I allow it control when it comes to things like planning how much I need of what to get things done, and I allow it free reign with finding the best deals for gifts, but otherwise, it stays out of things. This is the time of year I can cry, laugh, and rejoice without feeling embarrassed, or out of control.

Yep, being one of those few that struggle with an ambidextrous brain and body, is not easy. But come Christmas time, only one side is in control. God Bless You One and All, may your dreams come true, and may you rejoice in all the love of Christmas and all it means.

Enough Already


Okay snowflakes and crybullies, enough is enough. It is one thing to protest, you have that right, it is totally different to riot because that crosses the line to illegal activities.

Those windows you broke, the businesses you looted, the cars you destroyed, those belong to someone who works hard for a living. Many of them may have voted for your candidate. In fact, most of them probably did seeing as the areas being looted are in the most liberal cities in the country. How does that help your ’cause’?

All Americans who have been on the opposite side of the results of an election have been disappointed and upset by being on the losing side. But I have yet to see Conservatives tearing up the town to protest their loss. It seems that the majority of them are either too busy working or too busy taking care of family and helping in the community to go out and break things. If they do protest it is by voting or writing a letter to their congressional representatives. It is a futile thing to keep expecting a different outcome from behaving the same way over and over.

Dr. Martin Luther King Jr must be turning in his grave to see how people “protest” these days. Dragging a man out of his car and beating him just because he is white and may have voted for Trump, beating a girl at high school because someone in her family voted for Trump (she wasn’t even old enough to vote), beating a 70 some odd man because he shouted All Lives matter and the black woman next to him didn’t like it, all of those are acts of violence. Dr. King was as anti violence as anyone could get. He helped change the world for Black and White people, and this is how you treat his legacy? Really?

To be clear, according to my DNA, I am a multi-race person. I have light skin, light eyes, and silver hair, but I am not just white. Likewise, if you are an American for more than one or two generations, you are probably as mixed race as I am. So that will make you just like me and me just like you. Get over the race thing, it is immature and self defeating. No one respects a bully, and that is what calling everyone racists is doing, bullying.

Get over yourselves all you millennial snowflakes who melt and swoon at the drop of the use a perfectly decent word. When you grow up and leave your protected safe place at university, you will have to go out into the big bad world and work. Guess what, your boss isn’t going to give a rap about how someone micro insulted you. Put on your big boy or girl britches and grow the hell up. The whole micro aggression thing used to be solved easily on the playground around the age of six. “Sticks and stones may break my bones… or it bounces off of me and sticks to you…” Holy cats people, have you really been so wrapped in cotton wool and protected by your helicopter parents that you can’t cope with someone saying something without taking it as an insult or becoming a sobbing mess?

I have noticed, however, that the most easily offended snowflake or crybully is often the first to start screaming invectives and socially unacceptable verbiage as soon as they have two or more bullies at their back. Having a conversation is not allowed due to their allergy to their self perceived micro aggression. Instead, they start throwing things and becoming unmanufactured in the most vicious way possible. Then they whine about racists, sexists, homophobic, people who don’t understand them. Well gee whiz, Wally, get a grip, no one is required to agree with or understand your snit fit.

I am old, to most of you snowflakes, ancient. I don’t agree one whit with the whole concept of safe places, binky, and blanket nonsense that you demand like a bunch of spoiled two year old brats. If you are considered an adult, act like one. Otherwise, go to your safe place and suck your thumb until you can act like one. Enough enough, it is time to get over yourselves.

I Am A Racist? Really?


Recently, I posted my opinion on the cop killings and BLM on a blog. Basically, it ticked off the liberal white guilt trip pack. This is my response. No holds barred. I would apologize for the language, but it is heart felt and honest, so I won’t. Lets just day I kept it as clean as I could.

I’m a Racists? Really?

So, you lot seem to think I am a racist, or whatever, because I am telling you what MY experience with the black and white people in the south has taught me. Okay. Soooo, your point? Look, I have lived in 11 countries, ONLY in the US do we have this idiocy of promoting a race war. In England, New Zealand, Germany, any other place I have lived, people are just people. Skin color does not matter. Here it is promoted by the progressive left who have done their best to keep black people divided by their color. It began after the Civil War and it continues today. I assume, and that may be asking too much, that you DO know the background of the democratic party and their promotion and development of the KKK and all the Jim Crow laws that abound throughout the US. It started in the south, but it spread across the country like wild fire.

After the Civil War, many black men were elected to state and federal positions, as soon as possible the white democrats kicked them all to the curb using the Jim Crow laws, continuing the division between blacks and whites. Then came good old Woodrow Wilson, who was a hugs supporter of Margaret Sanger, and who supported eugenics. That means the killing of all babies she thought were being born to people who were obviously too flawed to be real humans. All blacks, many of the uneducated, Catholics, Jews, and the poor. Nice people.

Following them of course, is Johnson, who as soon as Kennedy was dead, brought in the lovely Great Society. It is well known that he loathed black people and thought that they were sub human. So, since he couldn’t enslave them like they used to be, he and his cronies come up with a GREAT idea! Wanna guess? No? Let me enlighten you a bit.

1. First, make welfare easily available and pack it with all sorts of goodies, based on how many kids you have and how much you can scam the system.

2. Emasculate the men of color. Make big daddy government in charge and tell them that they are no longer needed to keep a family solvent.

3. Tell them that they are victims, victims, victims, over and over and over until all the kids believe it, and they stop striving to improve and learn. After all big daddy will take care of them.

4. Tell them they don’t need to work. And kids drop out of school to hang on the corner Uninspired, uneducated kids end up getting into trouble. Soon, it becomes cool to be a loser with no ambition or dreams.

5. Then tell them that family isn’t important. Take that and add to it the way in which black women are encouraged to abort their children, and make it government supported and suddenly there is no reason for a mom and dad, because if a girl gets pregnant, there are no consequences.

6. Fast forward to present day, and you have the creep in the white house promoting racism by continuing the false narrative that black people are victims, and all white people OWE them because we are ALL racists at heart.

7. With no one to teach the last three generation of men how to BE leaders and men of authority and strength, most young men haven’t a clue what real men are like. So they start looking up to the strong man in their area – drug dealers, thugs, pimps, etc. and decide to emulate them.

8. With no man to teach them right from wrong and the value of respect, they have none for anyone except the strong man among them who keeps them in line with violence and anger.

9. Therefore, cops, among any others with authority, are treated like they are the enemy. And that is founded on the way in which SOME bad cops treated them before folks learned better. Like 40 years ago. Yes, there will always be someone who is an asshat that wants to force respect and control, but they are few and far between.

10. Now we have thugs and criminals in charge and everyone is afraid to stand up to them. Cops just doing their jobs are killed, targeted, and the thugs in the bogus BLM groups are screaming kill all the white babies! Murder all the white people! And cops still go out and do their job with huge targets on their backs.

Now, compound the issue with the still progressive slave overseers on the plantation of the democratic party bringing people on stage who are screaming that their son was killed by cops and it is all the fault of the cops. Really? Check their kids police record first, enlightening stuff. But, hey, more money for them paid by the city who is afraid to stand up to evil.

But, I am a racist. As a life long conservative, I am ANTI anything the democrat progressives promote – like modern slavery via welfare and their desire to destroy the black family and dreams. So, I am a racist. Really? I make things divisive by saying that folks up north are different concerning race than down here. Because, ladies and gents, I have lived up north, and there is a difference in attitude. I don’t know why, but there is a lot more racism from both sides there than there is here. Probably one reason is that we have learned by living in close proximity that we need to cooperate and get along to get anything done.

When I was a kid the black people in town may have lived in their own community, but there were doctors, lawyers, business men, clergy, teachers, writers, artists, musicians, hard working men and women who had pride in themselves and in their community,. They had dreams, plans for the future, plans to help their kids be better, do better, live better than they did. They had honor, and integrity. Many black people today have that same drive and ambition and honor. But many many more have bought into the progressive victim propaganda and as such have lost their way.

I honestly don’t care what color anyone may be. I have lived in far too many places to see people as anything other than people. Maybe with different customs and social behaviors, but still just people. It pisses me off that in this day and age people in the greatest country in the world (even with an ass in the white house) is willing to fall for this crap. Racism is a state of mind, so just change your damned mind and get over it. Too many folks on both sides of the issue are caught up in the blame game and victimization and white guilt. Get over yourself. And get RACE out of the politics. At the same time, more and more black folks around here are standing up to the BLM crap and telling them to piss off. The whole BLM thing is insulting to them.

ALL lives matter, cops, black, white, Asian, Hispanic, green, yellow, rainbow alphabet, men, women, children, and undecided. NO ONE is better than anyone else, but then, I am divisive and racist. Actually, what I am is fed up with the navel gazing, arm chair, holier than thou, progressive idiots who want to keep blacks enslaved and whites superior – but then, I must remember I am a racist.

Wally World After Dark


If you want to see the weird, wild, insane, and down right disgusting, to to Wally World after dark. Shudder…. My day was going great until I had to go in there. Yeah, the one in Southaven (next time a 15 minute drive out of my way first)! If you have ever been to the one in Southaven, MS, you know what I mean. From the guy dribbling his basketball down the aisle until it got away from him and broke the olive oil bottles, the woman with four kids running wild and having a fist fight right in the middle of the store, to the guy who called me a Beach (you know what he was trying to say),when I asked his clueless, phone chatting, wife to let me by. I had to remind him how to say the word in English, reminding him the difference between a bitch (female dog) and a beach are vast – and and got off one of my best zingers in ages.

“Senior, I am not a beach, a beach has sand and rocks, I don’t. And I doubt you could find your rocks with a map and a compass, as they must be very small. After all, a real man doesn’t call an elderly woman names.” So, he counters with the expected “F You Beach. ”

I managed not to laugh, but said, “I didn’t know beaches could do that. However, I prefer a man, not something with tiny rocks, who thinks he is a man because he can swear in two languages. But, it is nice to know you fancy me.” Boy was his wife ticked…. I speak enough Spanish to know he would be sleeping on the sofa tonight. The guy with them was laughing like a loon. He kept saying, That old lady got you, bro, she got you good. The wife was not a happy camper…. Ha ha. I won. If you don’t want to be set into your place, don’t take on an English teacher in a verbal war. We win.

Like I said, Wally World after dark, you just never know what you will see.

Stop Saying That!


I was sitting in a café having breakfast this morning when a gaggle of 20ish to 40ish women came in and sat down at the table behind me. They were talking loud and being a bit obnoxious, but I tried to ignore them and read my book while eating breakfast. Soon, however, it became impossible to concentrate because they were talking over each other, squealing, and generally trying to out talk each other. One phrase kept coming up, over and over and over…. “Oh My G-d.” It was used so often I actually started counting the number of times I heard it. In a 25 minute stretch, it was said 44 times by different females, with different vocal expressions. It was used to convey everything from awe to anger, to agreement, to disappointment. It was, quite frankly, annoying beyond words.

I guess that three word phrase is today’s equivalent of earlier generations catch words such as like, you know, just too…whatever. And it is designed to make whomever utters it sound like some empty headed wannabe (another catch word) who has no idea how to make a cogent remark of exclamation.

However, the reason this constant utterance of Oh my G-d bothers me so much is that it seems, well, offensive to those who are Christians. I was taught that to use the word G-d in casual language, or even more so, as part of a swear word, was highly offensive to the Divine. When one calls His name, one is asking for His attention. We say in in reverence and supplication in prayer, we say it in times of dire need for direction or help, we call upon Him in rejoicing and thanks, but we do not simply use His name as an expletive or common exclamation of surprise or shock.

I always remember the prayer of Jesus Christ in the Garden of Gethsemane when he calls out in spiritual agony, “My God, My God, why hast thou forsaken me?” (Matthew 27:46, KJV) That is the standard of emotional being that would result in the need to cry out to the Father in such a way. Not just because someone has spoken about a juicy bit of gossip, and everyone responds with equally juicy surprise and avid curiosity for the speaker to tell more.

I recently had an bit of a verbal discussion with a woman who was allowing her children to jump off a retaining wall into a very busy car park. At least I thought she was allowing it. She had her face buried in her phone text messaging. Three other adults asked the children not to jump off the wall because they could get hurt as there was so much traffic. Finally, after the children ignored everyone, I asked where their mother was. They pointed her out. I walked over and told her that her children were in danger of being hit by cars since they kept jumping into traffic, and if she didn’t get off her damned phone, I was going to call the police and let them sort her out. She looked up at me in surprise and said it was none of my business what her children did. I told her it certainly was if I ran over one of them when they ran out in front of me. I calmly started to dial the emergency number, but before I hit send, she screamed, Oh My G-d, what the hell are you doing? I told her, I don’t know what He is doing other than keeping your kids alive, because you are too busy playing on your phone to pay attention to your children. I, however, am trying to get you to be a responsible mother. Then she upped the ante with Oh my F-ing G-d. I responded with the comment that the as far as I knew sex had nothing to do with the conception of Jesus Christ, and the Divine probably wouldn’t have sex with her no matter how much she begged. She threw her hands in the air and stomped off to her car, only remembering to call her children when she was half way there. When I passed her car, she was still texting. And probably using the OMG comment every two seconds. Some times sarcasm is just too intelligent for people to understand.

My point, however, is this. There are many of us who find the causal used of the name of the Divine in common vernacular, to be offensive and rude. Please, just stop and find a better way of expressing yourselves. To me it is just as offensive as being called the N word is to black people. Remember, when you use the word G-d you are asking for the attention of the Father. And if you add the word damn to the first word, you are asking Him to bring damnation down on someone. He probably won’t, but asking him to might bring you more attention that you would care for when you get to the other side. I don’t know about you, but taking on a deity is not my idea of smart.

Why We Need A Two Year Old At Christmas


1. It is a good excuse to watch Christmas movies all day long.

 

2. You can sing Christmas songs at the top of your lungs and the kid thinks it is GREAT!

3. Tape takes on a whole new dimension when left in the hands of a little kid.

4. Baking cookies can be a daily activity, and so can eating them, cookies are a healthy snack if Nana makes them.

5. It is cool to be excited by Christmas lights, and we can say inane things to a the child, like “Oh Look! A Reindeer!” without other adults looking at us like we are on cog shy of a gear.

6. We can go shopping with the child, and no one bats an eye when we spend half an hour in the toy department playing with the toys. Gotta know if it is age appropriate after all.

7. We can say, in public, “If you aren’t going to behave, I am going to call Santa RIGHT NOW and have him put you on the naughty list.”

8. We can decorate the house and yard as garishly as we want, because children love all that sparkle and glitter, giving us the excuse to be over the top all we want.

9. We get to eat. A lot. Because children need to eat, and we need to test the food to make sure it is safe and healthy for them. Doesn’t matter if it is all the goodies we can get our hands on, someone has to be the taste tester.

10. We can read “The Night Before Christmas” and “The Grinch Who Stole Christmas” and the story of the birth of the Christ Child every single night, or day, at home or in the car, and no one thinks it is weird.

11. We can go see the newest movies for kids, and not feel like everyone thinks we are some sort of weirdo sitting in a theater full of kids.

12. We get to do fun stuff, like make Christmas ornaments from glue, paper, felt, paint, and the occasional crying fit.

13. We can make a mess every single day, and it is just fine to leave it until the child goes home. Unless, of course, it is spilled sugar – that has to be cleared up so it doesn’t feel like sand is all over the floor. Besides, a two year old might just decide to lick it off the floor (true story) for fun.

14. Wrapping paper can be more fun than the gift we are trying to wrap. Especially when combined with excuse number three.

15. We can play with all the toys that the kid got for Christmas, BEFORE the kid gets to. Someone has to put them together (some assembly required, my …. or how to bring out the Grinch in the old man on Christmas Eve).

16. Going to Walmart with cookie dough and flour down the front of your sweat shirt is OK. After all, the two year old has it in his/her hair, down the front, and in his/her shoes too.

17. Helping the child to dress the dog up to be a reindeer isn’t all that crazy and idea. But, I wouldn’t advise trying to do the same to a cat. Really. Not. Smart.

18. There is nothing wrong with having the child’s stuffed tiger in the manger for the baby Jesus. It works. And it saves on the requisite fight over the dolly that takes place between the angel and Mary after the play is over.

19. It is perfectly fine to sing different words to songs like Jingle Bells and Santa Claus is Coming to Town – as long as you keep them clean. Kids love that sort of silliness – and as long as there is a kid around, no one thinks you are two cogs short of a gear.

20. Stay up late night takes on a whole new meaning with an excited two year old who is waiting for Santa. But once the child is asleep, Papa Santa gets to eat the cookies and milk, and Nana Santa gets to eat the carrots and celery left out for the man in red and his reindeer, leaving behind enough crumbs to prove someone ate them. Then the “some assembly required” commences, leaving two very grumpy elves to find their way to bed way past their bedtime.