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.

Baby Know How To Play The Game


Baby Knows How to Play The Game.

I recently observed the following while buying shoes.

A young woman 25ish and her boyfriend/significant other/husband were next to me as I was trying on a pair of shoes. He was standing with a shoe box in his hand, having obviously found what he wanted rather quickly. She was standing in front of a mirror with a fancy high heel boot on one foot and an even fancier high heel shoe on the other. The conversation went something like this.

She: Honey, which one do you like best?

He: obviously bored out of his mind and a bit frustrated – Baby I don’t care, just pick one.

S: Pout face, baby voice – But honey, you are buying them, so you get to pick them. I like them both.

H: How much to they cost?

S: a bit put out – They cost about the same, the shoes are a few dollars more.

Silence – I could see the man logic swirling. Okay! For two dollars LESS you get all that leather and boots will last a long time. You know how it goes.

H: Well, then get the boots. He was thinking this was a done deal.

S: But honey, I don’t know. I mean the shoes fit better . . .

She fell silent posing with one foot then the other in front of her. Letting the man stew a bit.

H: Look Baby, if you like the shoes better . . .

S: breaking in – Oh but honey, I don’t know that I do. They are both so precious.

BEWARE the use of the word precious used when a woman is shopping… always back up a few steps.

H: Baby, both look great on you. I don’t care just pick one and we can get out of here.

S: Shooting him a glare, Well, Never mind then, if you are in such a hurry, I won’t get either one.

H: finally catching on. The light bulb was tangible. Look, Baby, just buy them both. Then you don’t have to decide and we can go have something to eat and relax.

S: Squealed with excitement, followed by a kissy face hug. Oh honey I love you so much!

H: sighing. Love you too Baby. Love you too.

I took a peek at the price tags when they left. On Sale! Boots 125.00; heels 240.00. GASP!! Wow! I guess Baby knows how to play the game. And Honey has learned how to let her.

It Isn’t A Tragedy


I over heard a conversation this morning between two women. It left me a bit gobsmacked and annoyed. It seems these two women have a mutual friend who had a kidney transplant via a relative. One woman said it was such a tragedy that their friend had to have a transplant. They went on to talk about how everyone needed to make allowances for her erratic behavior, and that she should be treated carefully as she recovered. After all, with someone else’s kidney in her she would never be normal.

I thought, “Tragedy?’ Not to me, it isn’t. That woman will live a long healthy life, she is not an invalid, she is not helpless, she is the product of the miracle of medicine and blessings. How can that be a tragedy? They acted as if having any transplant was something no one would ever want. What?

Tragedy is something that cannot be controlled, stopped, or overcome resulting in either an end of a life or constituting a complete change in circumstances for a survivor. Tragedy is losing a new mom to childbirth. Tragedy is a child with incurable cancer. Tragedy is a wounded warrior who has lost limbs, sight, ability to walk, or suffers brain damage or mental illness from serving in the war. Tragedy is a teenager committing suicide. Tragedy is a plane crash that kills 300 people. Tragedy is an old person freezing to death. Tragedy is the mentally ill on the streets of the country when they belong in a safe institution where they can be cared for, instead of suffering the effects of cold and heat, and the lack of food. Tragedy is losing someone to addiction to drugs or alcohol. Tragedy is having a funeral for a twenty year old girl whose death was sudden and unexpected. Surviving a kidney transplant is not a tragedy! It is, instead, an opportunity to celebrate a new and continued life!

What those well meaning women are doing is placing their friend in a box labeled perpetual victim. In pandering to her, giving her excuses for bad behavior, and creating a tragic attitude around her, they are making her weak, mentally, physically, and emotionally. In refusing to celebrate the miracle that her life is, they want to demean it. That isn’t friendship, that is an attitude of superiority. “Poor little thing, she will never reach her full potential,” one of them stated. The other agreeing and doing the Southern thing when faced with perceived tragedy, shaking her head, and murmuring, “Bless her heart.”

I don’t get it. I really don’t understand their attitude, especially treating her as if she is fragile and unable to cope with surviving. She isn’t one bit more special than anyone who has survived a horrific illness. Instead of encouraging her to be helpless, they need to stand behind and beside her as she moves forward into a strong, healthy life. Instead of lowering their expectations for her life, they should be the best of cheerleaders, celebrating each and every milestone in her recovery. And, the last thing they need to be doing is enabling helplessness. I repeat, she is not an invalid. The only tragedy in her life is that her friends see her as a victim who will never be normal instead of a survivor.

The Fat Lady Needs To Exit Stage Right, Now!


 

Over the past four years, I have lost 168 pounds and change. Yes, I feel better, have more energy, look better, and enjoy my grandchildren more. However there are a few drawbacks that never occurred to me before hand.

Skin. Losing weight, even as slowly as I have, leaves a lot of saggy, ugly, rumply skin. Bat wings for upper arms, skin that sags down from thighs to knees, and it just keeps on going long after I stop moving. Totally gross, totally embarrassing. And wrinkles are much more prominent too. I always had a smooth face, now I have wrinkles that I never had before. The upside is I look a lot thinner, the down side is learning a whole new way to apply makeup – when I bother that is.

Clothes. For years, like most fat women, I tried to hide my weight in baggy clothes, ugly dresses, and lots of jeans and t-shirts. Underwear was pretty much limited to grannie panties, and because I am rather well endowed up top, very boring super strong support white bras. Now, I nearly have a panic attack when I go into a store to buy clothes. I have gone from a size 28-30 in Women’s (that means fat lady clothes in girl code) to a size 14-16. But because I still have the well endowed parts to contend with, I get a larger size top. I don’t like tight clothing, it generally shows every lump and bump, cellulite, and muffin top on a fat lady. But, I find if I get looser clothes, they fall off me, which can be horribly humiliating if it happens in public. Oh, and shoes. Did you know that when you lose a lot of weight your shoe size gets smaller? Neither did I, but I have had to replace a large portion of my shoes lately. I’ve gone from a 8.5 Wide to a size 7 average. How freaky is that?

Temperature. I have long passed menopause, but temperature change really causes me issues. If it is cold, I freeze when the same temperature in my fat lady stage didn’t bother me at all, because I was always too warm. I forget about that and pay for it by shivering constantly. Wind also has an effect on me. I used to relish the cool wind, not so much now. Besides, I actually got pushed hard enough to almost fall the other day. I am so used to being sturdy enough to stand up to anything up to about 40 miles an hour winds. Now I just feel cold and like a wimp. Heat still makes me miserable. I hate hot and humid climates, but I don’t get miserable as fast as I used to, and can actually stand hotter weather than before.

Hair. I have always had rather thin hair. Now, because I am healthier, stronger, and I actually take my meds and vitamins every day, my hair is thicker. So I have had to learn to change my whole regime while washing my hair. It is hard to break a habit of over 30 years. I keep heading for my old shampoo and conditioner when I simply do not need that brand any longer. It is, well, annoying to have a routine totally changed.

Food. I didn’t have surgery to lose weight. I became very, very ill. Even the doctors didn’t think I would pull through. Fooled them. Wasn’t my time yet. Anyway, I used to crave sweets, sodas, carbohydrates, and fatty foods. I could eat a full meal at any restaurant in America. I was always hungry, and I used food as my drug of choice to cope with life. Now, food – eh – whatever. I don’t often eat every day, and I rarely have more than one meal a day. I make it a policy to eat only half of what is on my plate when we go out to dinner. Because half of a serving is a bit more than a serving for one person should be. The standard meal is FAR too much. At least it is using American sized servings.

Attitude and Mood Swings. I have never been so easily angered as I am now. Part of that is hormonal because everything is still out of whack. But a lot of it has to do with my attitude. While I have never been one to be a door mat, I would often allow my feelings about being fat make me want to stay in the background and unnoticed. Today, I am pretty much one of those old ladies who says what she thinks and devil take the hindmost. Whereas, I used to stay quiet, I am now more than willing to debate and do verbal battle with those who oppose my stance on everything from politics to dealing with bratty kids. So, on one hand, I am dealing with moodiness, and on the other I am dealing with trying to shut the hell up and stay out of trouble. Not doing too well on either issue.

The up side to weight loss is better health, the downside is that my entire lifestyle had to change and catch up with my body changes. I sometimes don’t recognize myself in the mirror. I sometimes think that I am fooling no one, and the fat lady still resides in my mirror and every one knows it but me. I sometimes feel overwhelmed with the way everything changed and continues to change as I keep losing weight.

I guess, because I can spot a phony a mile away, and because I don’t suffer fools gladly, that I tend to step back from every compliment. Like most fat ladies, people would compliment me on my eyes, color of my clothes, hair, but never say I was pretty. Now, folks do say I am pretty, but the fat lady hasn’t sung and exited stage right just yet. I really wish she would shut the hell up so I can get on with who I am becoming. Hateful cow.

“Inaction is not an excuse for failure to thrive.”


“Inaction is not an excuse for failure to thrive.”

I’ve noticed lately that a lot of people my age tend to simply stop. They stop doing fun things, they stop being involved, they stop thinking and growing intellectually. They just stop. Then they sit about and complain about how boring life is, how hard it is to do things they used to do, how much they wish they had done such and such before they got too old. They are failing to thrive in the late years of their lives. And there is no excuse for that- period.

I know, things are a bit harder to do when knees hurt,backs don’t want to bend, and the body gets tired much easier than it did at the age of forty. We all have to slow down,but that doesn’t mean we have to stop. It may take longer, but there is no reason not to at least try.

Years ago there was a movie entitled Cocoon followed by another, Cocoon Returns. If you haven’t seen them, I suggest watching them at least once. It starred a lot of “stars” who were getting quite elderly. All stuck in a nursing home, waiting to die, fussing at one another, etc. Until things change due to a visit from the aliens. Look, I know it is really a sappy story, but what I loved about it was the willingness of almost all of the elderly folks to embrace that which was different. If their youth didn’t return, their joy for life certainly did. And, at the end of the day, their inaction became action, and their lives infinitely better.

Another movie I loved was Driving Miss Daisy, a stellar performance by one and all. Again, another character that defies the tendency to just sit down and stop. Fried Green Tomatoes is a fantastic film. Kathy Bates and Jessica Tandy were great together and the flashback between Mary-Louise Parker and Mary Stuart Masterson is equally dynamic. At the end of the day, we are still not sure which woman Jessica Tandy was as the elderly friend of Kathy Bates. Ambiguity saturates the film, while turning Katy Bates’ character from a meek doormat into a woman filled with confidence. And, of course, the character played by Shirley Mclaine in Steel Magnolias is just like I want to be when I get old.

I see many older folks off and doing things all over the world. They travel, explore, serve missions of compassion – regardless of sore knees and aching backs. They move, act, and they live every minute of every day. That is what I want to do too.

When our youngest son went off to college, my husband and I decided to work our way around the world. Eight years later, we finally returned to the US. As we were raising our granddaughter, she went right along with us. We lived in London, Hong Kong, and New Zealand, and only came back to the US due to health issues and the awful Socialized Medical care in NZ. We traveled all over each region and were enriched many times over by our experiences.

But I was in my forty’s when we did that. Now I am sixty, and it is going to become more difficult to do some of the things we did. So, we chose other things to do so we could travel. A cruise or four, a road trip across the US, and our big adventure this year is to travel across country by train. I don’t hike for miles any longer, but I sure can sit and enjoy the view from the train.

So there is no excuse not to thrive, people. Just get up, take a few steps, find a hobby that fulfills you, volunteer as a surrogate grandmother to rock babies at the hospital. Volunteer at the schools or libraries to help kids with their reading skills. Go help out a nursing home if you have a talent like playing the piano. There are a multitude of things you can do to overcome the lack of inertia and sedentary inaction. For me, being with my grandchildren is one of my greatest motivators. I write, I hang out on social media sites, I keep up with friends and work on my family history, and I am planning on taking art lessons. I have always wanted to learn how to paint. That will be so much fun!

So, you are old, so what? Inaction is not an excuse for failure to thrive. Just because your body is starting to creak and moan, it doesn’t mean your brain isn’t functioning. (Unless you have a serious condition, of course.) With all the medical miracles out today, most of us will live well into our eighties or nineties.

I have a friend who is ninety-eight. For the several decades, she has traveled the world following the performances of the operas of Wagner. All on her own, she would jump on a plane and off she would go to Italy, France, Germany, or any place in the world that the operas were being performed. What an amazing lady

who just kept on going like an Eveready Battery. She is running down now, but she is still in control of her life and decided to go home until the end of her days. It is heartbreaking, but at the same time, what a life she has had! Even now, she keeps busy with doing her family history and chatting with her friends and family.

Even if you are homebound, unable to walk, unable to drive, so what? There are a million things you can do to keep your brain healthy and busy. Never just stop and wait to die. We all have a finite amount of time here in this life. I could spend it worrying about death, or I can just get on with living while I am still here.

The more we let inaction rule our lives, the less likely we are to live a long life. Not just because our bodies need to move to function well, but because our brains atrophy at an alarming rate. Inaction is not an excuse for failure to thrive. But it is only you that can take that first step. I can’t wait to become a feisty old woman who says exactly what she wants to say about everything.

Come on people, get up, find a cause, reason, purpose, or passion to fill your life. Go on!

 

Have you ever wondered?


Have you ever wondered at the ads that keep popping up about different treatments to make you look younger, whatever? Why is it that most of them are from a “secret formula” especially designed by some scientist or dermatologist? I bet if we all got the list of the junk in them, they would all be pretty much the same. Then, they have the audacity to charge upwards of a hundred dollars for a 4 ounce jar of the goop. And women buy it! Are we all really that paranoid about growing older? Good skin comes from eating right, hydration, and genes. Don’t smoke, don’t drink to excess, and for heaven’s sake don’t do drugs. And go easy on the makeup, it clogs pours no matter how well you clean your face.

My sisters and I (four of us girls) always had nice skin. My mother didn’t allow us to drink soda, eat junk food, and we used good old Ivory soap and Jergen’s lotion to keep our skin in good conditions. I still use soap and water to clean my face, and I use an inexpensive night cream (Ponds) to moisturize my face once a day. Oh, and a sun screen anytime I am outdoors for very long. I’m not a beauty at 60, but my skin is still in good shape.

Anyway, there are no “secrets formulas” that out do common sense and practicality. I know, some suffer from the dreaded acne gene, but keeping your face clean is the most important part of dealing with that.  Photo is from waaaay back when. And the handsome guy next to me is my hubby.

couple 1971

No New Year Resolutions.


I have no New Year Resolutions, not a one. I stopped torturing myself with those things ages ago. Every year I would start out with a list of things I wanted to do. Most were self serving, like losing weight, and some were grandstanding, like I will not let others tell me what to do. Of course, they were destined to fail, leaving me feeling like an idiot. I mean, how can one be so stupid as to always let themselves down, every year, on a regular basis?

After failing so many years in a row, I finally realized that I was simply setting myself up to feel like a loser. I hurt my own feelings, and made myself mad at ME, all for some stupid non-tradition that is encouraged by popular demand. Why? I don’t know, maybe it was just a desperate attempt to fit in, to succeed, to find something worthwhile about myself. But it always worked just the opposite from what I planned.

So, a few years ago, I decided that I wasn’t going to give in and make impossible resolutions about my life. Because, you see, life doesn’t stick to a plan. It has a way of making its own path, and we are pretty much along for the ride. I can’t control life around me, only myself. Most of the time, life around me is on a whole different page than I am at any given moment! How can we resolve to accomplish anything in a measurable way when it comes to feelings and thoughts? If it is something concrete, for instance, completing a course at school, going to the gym, or getting a promotion, perhaps we can make a plan. However, you might get sick, and miss a lot of school. You might be too tired, busy, or bored to go to the gym after a week or so. You might be downsized at your company and have to start your own business to survive. There is no getting around it, no matter your resolve, life just keeps happening while you plan. And it almost always throws a spanner into the works to muck everything up.

Now that can be a good thing, making you move outside the box and do something different and new. But, it means that you will have to forsake your resolutions – again – and if you are emotionally tied to those resolutions, it can make you pretty miserable. Or not. Depends on how much you have invested yourself in the process and plan. I suppose, one should be flexible with resolutions.

I know many folks out there in the world managed to stick with a resolution come hell or high water. No matter what life throws at them, they stick to the plan. But, have you ever wondered what would have happened if you went out to your friends dinner party instead of going to the gym? Maybe you would have met the love of your life, or, if already with the love of your life, maybe you would fall into romance all over again. You see, your choices always have a possibility of at least two outcomes. If you stick to the plan, you know exactly what will happen. You will be tired, smelly, and sore from a workout. But, maybe the second or tenth outcome, well, it might be magical enough to change your life forever.

Now, in my crazy life, I no longer set myself up to fail. Because I have finally figured out what a New Year means. It isn’t a do over, remake, new start, or second chance. It means that you get to change course, learn from last year, and make a choice to be flexible in all that you do. All the New Year does is to make it easy to switch paths, change gears, explore something new, or simply stop always doing and just be. A New Year is a date on the calendar. Nothing will be any different on the first of January than it was on the thirty-first of December. All your problems will still be there, the difference being, that after the holidays, time with family and friends, maybe you have a clearer vision of your life.

No New Years Resolution means I am not locked into a plan. I can do what needs to be done, when it needs to be done, and with that flexibility, I cannot fail. I can only move forward, just like the path in front of me encourages me to do. Happy New Year everyone, I hope you find it magical.

Really?


The shopping frenzy is escalating exponentially as we get closer to Christmas Day. Stress is starting to show amid those who are still trying to buy, build, make, get, gifts ready for the big day. I realize how difficult it is not to stress out, but why do people feel they have to take it out on the person who happens to be manning the cash register?

In line at Wally World today, a woman in the next check out lane started complaining loud and long about how stupid it was that they didn’t have more lanes open, and that it was annoying how slow the checkers were. One of the people directing traffic to different lanes told her that the self check was available and that there was no waiting. To my dismay she turned on that woman and told her, “I EXPECT to be waited on when I come into a store. I EXPECT that someone will check my items, and I will pay a PERSON not a machine!”

Wow! Nice, not! Merry Christmas to you too, you hateful cow!

The woman kept her cool, and apologized that the cow had to wait, but that there was nothing she could do, as people were checked out on a first come, first serve basis unless they used the self check out. This was a busy time and the next few days would be crowded in most stores. The cow still huffed and puffed, complaining under her breath.

All those around me, including me, just stared at her in disbelief. Making eye contact with one another, we all seemed to be thinking, “Really?” Shaking our heads and trying to ignore the oozing anger around the woman, most everyone got on with their business. Finally, the woman was at the register and ready to pay. She said to the girl at the register, “I would wish you a Merry Christmas, but I really don’t care if you have one or not.” The poor girl nearly cried, but she just wished the woman a good day.

Say what you will about low payed employees, but the women at Wally World were gracious even in the face of insults and mistreatment by the very person they served. At the end of the day, that hateful cow will have a miserable Christmas, while each of those she abused will be blessed in one way or another for turning the other cheek.

I admire that, I really do, I simply do not have the kindness gene in my DNA. It took all I had not to tell that woman off, but it wasn’t my place to do so. Besides, I didn’t want to end up in trouble right before my son and grandchildren got here. So, I let it go, but you know, it really bothers me. So from now on, I will do my level best to be polite to all those who serve me in any way, even the surly cashier at the local gas station.

Why, Bless Her Little Heart


I follow the Matt Walsh Blog http://themattwalshblog.com/2013/11/06/kids-react-to-abortion/comment-page-1/#comment-62347 on a regular basis. He is a brilliant commentator and observer of life. He is also conservative in many of his opinions. Today his blog was about what the government run institutions called schools are teaching our children concerning several hot topics. One particular person who commented on the blog really hit my hot button. To save her embarrassment, I won’t include her name.

SHE SAID:
I knew there was a reason I wasn’t going to follow you any longer and this is it. Rick Perry used his own son to pass a “religion rights” bill (the Christmas bill) and anti-abortion spokespeople and politicians use fetuses to push their agenda. Give me a break. People like yourselves don’t want to provide for kids with social programs after they are fetuses, you don’t want women to have birth control because a) you think birth control is abortion and that’s what the right preaches, even though the science says it’s not (but wait, you don’t believe in science either been badmouthing it since Bush was President at least), b)you’re too afraid white people will be outnumbered by minorities, first of all, (at least according to Pat Buchanan’s book “State of Emergency,” and Fox News), and secondly, you think women should be controlled by men using your conservative fundamentalist religious ideology as applied to current ideology in the Republican Party. Your GOP politicians go on record saying that “rape” isn’t rape, and that you can’t get pregnant from rape, your party blocks a jobs bill for veterans, blocks VAWA, your party cuts food stamps so poor kids can’t eat, and calls 46% of the populations “takers” and moochers (some of those moochers vote Republican) and then you wonder why people are starting to vote Republicans out.

I SAID:
Takers? Of course they are takers, they sure aren’t doing anything to be productive, now are they? Honey it is the majority of conservative working people that allow the rest of the lazy moron leftists to sit at home in front of their big TV, eating, smoking, and drinking between producing more offspring to keep the money flowing. Unless, of course they decide to murder them either before or after they are born.

You can’t believe in religion because EVERY religion (except some weird off beat crazy people) says life is precious and children are blessings. So if someone does, they are racist or anti women (rolling eyes here).

I don’t care WHAT color someone’s skin is, I care about how they treat people and how they behave. So that argument is surely stupid too. I have lived in many countries, sweetheart, and some of them were not nice places to be, but the people were wonderful, and some were just as bad and stupid as people here in the US. I live in the deep south, dearie, and there are thousands of different colors of skin down here. To say that all white people are afraid of, or hate, minorities is purely ignorant.

I am a conservative woman, and heaven help any man who tries to own me, force me to anything, or try to treat me like a second class citizen. I am intelligent and I am not afraid to use that intelligence to set them straight. Or I could vote, or, if that doesn’t work, I have a carry permit and a gun. So your little diatribe on that topic is just as mistaken as the other comments you’ve made.

I don’t know a single conservative who does not support our men and women in uniform, or who have served in the past. Supporting them is vital to all of us. However that pot head ass in the white house loathes the military, unless he gets to play with the drones and kill people. Maybe that is where you are getting your particular point of view. From that and the talking heads on the liberal news networks like CNN (Communist News Network) and that sort.

I certainly do agree that food stamps and welfare need to be cut. Or, if those capable of work, have to be drug tested every month, that would make me happy too. Maybe then the whiners will get off their collective rear ends and GET A JOB. And there are jobs out there, they are just jobs that mean you have to get your hands dirty or work at night, oh, and pass a drug test on a regular basis. Even highest educated person in the land has to start at the bottom of the heap. Unless he is an elitist liar like the pot head ass in the white house.

What I am saying, bless your angry, greedy little heart, is that there is a VAST difference between conservatives and Republicans who are know as RINOs. (Republicans in name only) The RINOS are the guys you are talking about. The conservatives are people like me who work hard, save, give to charity, support our military heroes and our local police and firemen. We go to church, synagogue, chapel, temple, or where ever one worships their version of God. We are loving people, patriotic people, and profoundly protective people. Our families, country, and love of God are vital components of our humanity. So are unborn children.

Life is precious, every single life, even yours, is vital to someone. To use abortion to get rid of a child because he or she is inconvenient is flat out wrong. Use birth control correctly, or better yet, people need to stop sleeping around every time they get the urge and learn a bit of self control. However, I understand that being virginal after a certain age is frowned upon by a particular group of people.

I would suggest, (name withheld for her protection), that you stop trying to blend all conservatives and RINOS into one lump. We are not the same. And we will always fight for what we believe is right, and that includes the right for a baby to be born. You may call it tissue, but DNA says it is a human being from the moment of conception.

So, people, when are you going to make a stand and protect your innocent kids from the institutions political persecution of their minds and hearts? Home school folks, get them in a religious school, do something to protect your kids. Regardless of your stand on these issues, those are things that should be taught by parents, at home, in private, using real facts, not emotional knee jerk blather. People like that woman are everywhere, filled with anger, frustration, and a deep personal hatred for anyone who is a thinking, logical, person. We should pity her, because she will go to her grave just as angry as she is today since her brain and soul have been preempted by the left.

Why Is It Number Four


Why is it, as soon as I put the hard top back on my car, the sun comes out?

Why is it, that having the top down makes me want to play my music really loud and drive really fast?

Why is it, that every time a young person sees me driving a sports car, they seemed shocked?

Why is it, when an old person sees me driving a sports car, they all look confused?

Why is it, when a person gets past 50, everyone expects them to slow down and be stodgy?

Why is it, that when a person gets past 50, every single working part of the body decides to retool and redefine their working order?

Why is it, that some women freak out and spend thousands on plastic surgery and products to look younger, when time will catch up eventually and they will look like freaks AND look old?

Why is it, that everyone is scared to death to be round? Round is a good shape. Comfy, and easy to maintain.

Why is it, women under 60 freak out about being a grandmother?

Why is it, that women under 60 come up with stupid names for their grandchildren to call them so they won’t be known as a grandmother? I mean, really, MoMo?

Why is it, getting old is a sinful thing instead of something we have earned?

Why is it, that the young never appreciate what we know and the wisdom we have to share until it is too late to make a difference in their lives?

Why is it, if a couple is out dancing and having fun, and they aren’t young, people think it is either sweet, cute, or disgusting?

Why is it, people stare if I hold my husband’s hand in public? It isn’t as if we are doing anything gross, like snogging.

Why is it, all little babies and toddlers know that I am a Nana? Hormones?

Why is it physically impossible to stop myself from cooing over little babies, snarling at kids between 8 and obnoxious, and loathing kids between oh, teenage and forever if they are impolite, gross, or disrespectful?

Why is it, no one offers to help mom’s who are struggling with kids in public instead of complaining and making rude remarks?

Why is it, the older I get, the more I love the old guy I married so many years ago?

Just asking.