Where is Walter when we need him?


When I was a kid, back in the dark ages, we had one main news source, and his name was Walter Cronkite. He was solid, and everyone knew he was trustworthy. The nightly news was a cornerstone of American culture. Times, as they say, have changed.

I pretty much loathe the people who “read” the news today. With twenty four hour news station, the broadcasters are desperate to fill hours without being boring. So they opine, gossip, argue, posture – anything for an audience. The talking heads no longer report, they tell us how we should think and what we should do. And the crazy thing is, weak minded, lazy people follow right along nodding their heads and moving their mouths in sync with the talking heads. No one thinks for themselves any longer.

Today, I was driving in my car, and a song came on the radio that tells the true story of the “news reporters” and how they see the world. It’s by the Eagles. Dirty Laundry. You can listen on YouTube. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8KOzJ7gNb7Y Holy Cats! Did they ever get it right!

“Bubble headed bleach blond…” “Kick them when they’re up, kick them when they’re down…. crap is king, we need dirty laundry…..” Go on people, have a listen. The Eagles were ahead of their times, prophetic, even.

There are no longer news stations, there are only talking heads and vicious agendas designed to destroy, divide, and decimate people. Can’t trust any of them to tell you the whole truth, and they feast on the sorrow, hurt, and misfortune of everyone. Then make it even worse by twisting the knife in the back of the suffering.

If you want to know the truth, think for yourself, research, and turn off the talking head who are the “wanna be” famous. Trust me, they aren’t even in the same category as Walter was.  Where are the Walters of today when we need them most?

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I Am Cursed


I am beginning to think I am cursed. It seems I am destined to constantly deal with clueless, manner-less, obnoxious people. As the saying goes, I am surrounded by idiots. I am also cursed, literally, by those same obnoxious, caustic people when I ask/tell/demand that they cease and desist doing whatever ignorant, rude, lewd, or behavioral inept thing they are doing.

Yesterday, we were trying to get all our shopping done before our two-year old granddaughter got to the meltdown stage that signals she has had too much day. We were stuck in a line of cars in front of a big box store, because a couple had decided they were too precious to take a chance on getting wet in the drizzling rain. They weren’t just taking up one lane, but were parked right smack dab in the middle of both lanes. Folks were squeezing around them going in both directions. Hence the tail back of vehicles.

After fighting past them and getting into a parking place, I walked up to the woman sitting in one of the handicapped scooters and asked her if she knew that her truck was blocking traffic and causing no end of headaches for the other drivers trying to get around it. Her response was less than stellar. It began with F and ended with you. (Why does everyone use that word when trying to be insulting. Do they really know what it means? Probably not. Stupid is as stupid does.)

So, I said my usual, “No thanks, I don’t swing that way, but it is nice to know you fancy me.” Again, with the F and you thing. But, this time she upped the ante and called me a whore. I was walking away. But she used that word right in front of kids, and, as I was walking away, she shouted it at me. I did an abrupt about-face and walked back toward her. “Are you sure about that? Do you have undeniable proof? What makes you think I would be that kind of woman?” By then I was just a few feet from her, and that cow tried to run me down with the scooter! I stopped her from hitting me, and looked her right in the eye. “Look, all you have to do is get your fat ass out of this scooter, get in your ugly truck and move it so people can get past. Until you do, you can be held responsible for blocking traffic if anything goes wrong and you cause someone to wreck. Learn some manners while you’re at it.” I didn’t raise my voice, I didn’t lose my temper – but it was close.

“You called me a fat ass!” “Well, you ARE fat!” (she was really obese. A sloppy, careless, kind of obese– morbidly so.) Seeing that I wasn’t going to lose my temper, she tried the pity card. “I will have you know that I have had cancer….” I stopped her right there by laughing. “Big whoop, you are still here and alive.” (You know, everyone I know with cancer lost weight. She certainly didn’t look like she missed any meals.) I had cancer too, that ended in a hysterectomy. That isn’t any excuse to sit on my duff and expect everyone to cater to my whims.



Then her husband, as skinny as she is fat, said, “I bet you never block anyone do you?” It was said in a very snotty voice. “No sir, I do not ever intentionally block anyone. It is rude, inconsiderate, and selfish. If I have accidentally done so, I move my vehicle, apologize and get on with what I need to do.” “Yeah, I bet,” he said. “Well then, you would win that bet. Besides, I was raised with manners, and it is clear your mother didn’t raise you right, or you would know better. Your wife, or whatever she is to you, is obviously uneducated and low-class, or she wouldn’t be reduced to using swear words and calling people filthy names when she is caught out doing something wrong.”

The woman said, “Get the F out of my way, I am going to put this cart up so someone else can use it.” I know it was bad of me, but it sort of slipped out, “I sure wouldn’t want to sit where you’ve been, I might catch something, like stupidity. I’m surprised you can get it to move with your fat ass sitting on it.” No, I don’t feel bad about it at all.

Calling any woman a whore is beyond demeaning, it is foul, ugly, and designed to hurt. It didn’t hurt me so much as piss me off. And it pissed me off because there were little kids standing right there, including my two-year old granddaughter, who heard her use that sort of language. Now, I imagine some of them hear the F word every day since so many people us it as everything from a noun to a dangling participle in day-to-day language. However, it is still wrong to talk like that in front of kids, because some of them may have actually been raised by parents who are doing their best to teach them right from wrong.

So, I am cursed, literally, by idiots. I am also cursed because I am not going to let something like that go, and if people are being inconsiderate and causing problems, I will call them on it. Which only reminds me that I am, indeed, surrounded by idiots. And that just pisses me off even more.

I Don’t Get It


So, I was out with Crystal today finalizing the order with the Cake Lady for the upcoming Baby Shower. We decided to go over to Joanne’s Craft and Fabric store to pick up a few things we need to prepare for the shower. I drive a honking big Silverado pickup truck, so it takes up plenty of space in the lane as I drive. I was driving the speed limit, 10 MPH, in the parking area. This crazy woman pulls in behind me and starts honking. I look up, decide she is in a hurry and that is too darned bad because I am not going to speed just to make her five seconds earlier to where she is going.

Because she started tailgating me, one of my biggest pet peeves about driving, I slowed down a bit more and took my time going where I needed to go. When I went around the parking area to head to the bookstore, she was at the end of it waiting to yell at me. I was tempted to go on, but me being me, I stopped and rolled down my window.

Me: “Do you have an issue?”

Crazy Racist Woman: “You have an issue!”

Me: “I do?” “What might that be?”

CRW: “Why don’t you just get out of that truck so I can kick your ass?”

Me: “Why should I do that? I am not going to fight with you, especially since I have no idea why you want to fight?”

CRW: “Your Mama!”

Me: “My Mama what? Died, laughed, went to the bathroom, what?”

CRW: “Screw you, bitch.”

Me: “No thanks, not into women.”

CRW: “Your Mama!”

Me: “Not into incest either.”

CRW: (now screaming at me) “Get out of that truck and I will kick your ass!”

Me: “Nope, because I have no reason to fight you.”

CRW: “You’re scared.”

Me: (looking her over) “Nope, not scared. Smarter than you. Because if I get out of the truck, you will hit me, I will call the cops, you will go to jail, and I will have to waste my time in court when they send you to jail for 3to six years for battery. I have better things to do, you ignorant cow.”

CRW: “You’re a scared white bitch. ‘Cause you know I will kick your ass.”

Me: “You already said that twice. You are beginning to repeat yourself too much. It is boring me, and you are still an ignorant cow because you can’t explain your rage.”
CRW: “F*** you, white bitch.”

Me: “I already told you, I am not interested in women. But, thanks for asking. And thanks for noticing I am a bitch. Took me a long time to be one. I used to be a real wall flower.

CRW: “I f***ing HATE white bitches like you, you racist pig.”

Me: “Hey, I am not the one throwing around hateful rhetoric and calling people names based on skin color here. You are. So who is the real racist?”

CRW: (Stomping off) “White Bitch!”

Me: “Actually, I am not white, I am beige, cow.”

CRW: “White bitch, racist f***ing bitch.”

Me: (Okay, I know it was snarky and rude, but I was getting tired of the woman.) “MOOOO”

She stomped into the store, I went round to the bookstore and she left Joanne’s before we got back. Too bad, I really wanted to see what she would do when she saw me in the store.

Nothing ticks me off more than someone honking and tailgating when I am doing the speed limit and obeying laws. That followed by her ignorant ranting nearly made me lose my cool and get out of the truck. I would have dearly loved to see her go to jail, but I managed, barely, not to go to her level. She was, as you might have surmised, a woman of color. In her rage, she only saw my skin, she didn’t talk to me, she raged at me from the moment she started talking. Instead of having a dialogue, she stuck to her racist and hateful behavior. I don’t get how she could be that angry over having to wait five seconds to get to her parking spot. I can only imagine what she must be like if someone does something dire, like walk in front of her car.

I don’t care if she is green with yellow polka dots. It is her automatic hate that bothers me. If I had been black, would she have been as hateful, or is it really just my skin color that annoys her to that degree?

I live in the deep south. This area is more black than white for the most part. I get along with every black person I meet. Most of them are great people, very polite, caring, and loving. The women are loud, strong, and passionate. The guys, well, they don’t talk to me much. Anyway, the only people I have run into with that kind of attitude are generally boys and girls in their teens. They wear baggy pants, shirts to their knees, and hoodies. They run in a pack, slouch when they walk, and all of them seem to have anger issues. They don’t bother me because I have an attitude that tells them I am not afraid, so bring it on if they dare. They don’t dare. Anyway, I don’t understand that kind of racist rage. I think the woman really needs some mental health help and a chill pill.

driving I-40


In the past three days, I drove on Interstate 40 for 14 hours through three states. Seven hours each way to my son’s house to take Nick home. I am a exhausted.

First of all, it is flat in Eastern Arkansas. Like a pancake flat. For miles and miles and miles, all you see is one ugly winter field after another. On the road, all you see for miles and miles an miles is one ugly semi truck after another, along with people who lose their minds when they get on the road.

You know the type, they all drive ten or fifteen miles an hour above the speed limit, whipping in and out of lanes like they are driving the Indianapolis 500, and their favorite gesture requires the use of one finger. Tailgating is to the point that their grill is so close to the back of the car in front of them, that the driver of the car can’t see anything else. Road rage takes on a whole new meaning if someone dares to get in front of them and they aren’t going as fast as the driver behind them thinks they should. Car, truck, semi, doesn’t matter, the road hog wants to take on all of them just to get up the road a few minutes earlier so they can be slowed down again by the next line of trucks and cars.

The wind blows in Easter Arkansas and in Oklahoma. Hard. It blows from the north or south, never from the east or west. So the driver spends a good portion of his or her energy keeping the darned car on the road instead of letting the wind blow the car off into the ditch or center median. And the radio may work, but getting any station besides some farm report or Mexican music isn’t easy. Even the FM stations seem limited to rap or hiphop or ten different genre of Country music. Note to self: NEVER forget the MP3 player again!!! Although, after a while the Mexican music can grow on you. . .

I have had boring six hour days before, but these past few days of driving were given shots of pure adrenalin when some moron would run up behind me at 90 miles and hour (I was doing about 80 to pass the semi’s at times) ride close enough to me to touch my bumper with theirs and honk, flash lights, and scream and cuss (I guess, from the mouth going as fast as the car) when I wouldn’t move over. Not that I could with 12 trucks in a row to the right of me and one in front who slowed down to 60 MPH. What was I supposed to do, drive under the semi to get out of the way? Like it would do him any good. The idiot went around me on the grass median at about 70 MPH. Ten miles down the road, I caught up with him because three big semi’s had penned him in. Boy was he ticked. I was a bit annoyed to slow down to 60, but it was satisfying to see the trucks stop him from driving like a bully.

I am going to have a few magnetic bumper stickers made for my car.

“Tailgaters are bullies with wheels.”

“I slow down for tailgaters.”

“If you tailgate, you will need:
Very good reflexes
Very good brakes
Very good lawyers”

I LOATH road bullies . . . and I hate windy roads, and I really hate flat boring countryside. . . really.