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.

2730 Words


2730 words. That is all he wrote. 2730 words define his poetry and deepest thoughts. So few, yet they say so much. How can it be?

There are fewer words in an obituary, even fewer on a tombstone, summing up most of our lives. We don’t know how the person buried under the soil felt, or what they thought, or what engaged them. And when those that knew them are gone too, all is lost.

It is beyond sad so few of us leave behind any written legacy for our loved ones. A quote, a thought, a story, a remembrance, to hand down from generation to generation sharing and telling the future what the past was all about.

Each of us has a story, lived a life seen only from our perspective. We know things no one else knows, and we share only what is acceptable, easy, and gentle. The hard truth, the pain, the rage, all of those are buried as deep as a coffin, shame.

2730 words are the legacy of my son. Something to share, no matter how painful, with all those who loved him, and all those who will never meet him in this life. It was an honor to put his words together for those who will come after.

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.

How Did I Get So Old So Darned Fast?


Today I turned 62 years old. I think that qualifies me as older than dirt. I know it qualifies me as a senior citizen. What I want to know is how it happened so darned fast. Just a few weeks ago, I swear I was trying to figure out the whole concept of being an adult.

When I turned nine, I remember it well, because my parents gave me a copy of Huckleberry Finn. The first real book I remember ever getting. I still have it. And I took time to re-read it not too long ago. When I turned 17, I was a married woman of a whole three months. I remember thinking I had it all, and knew it all, and wasn’t afraid to face everything life would throw at me. I was a grown woman, and by heaven I knew it all. Arrogance knows no bounds to a 17 year old.

When I turned 20, I had a three month old son, he was taking me down a peg or two in arrogance, and teaching me that being a grown woman was harder than it looked. Being a mother certainly was harder. Little did I know that by the time I turned 22, I would have a second baby boy and life was set on fast forward for the next twenty years or so.

I don’t remember many spectacular birthdays. They seem to blend together. However, I remember when I turned 30, my two best friends kidnapped me, drove me all over Harrison, Arkansas for a few hours, then took me out to eat at a steak place. When I walked in, almost the entire church ward, most of my Boy Scout Leader friends, and many others turned up for a surprise party. I was totally shocked. Not a clue slipped out from anyone. Back then, there were no cell phones, so no one was able to tip me about the kidnapping or anything. It was great! I was fully embarrassed, but it was the slickest thing anyone has ever pulled on me. Candy, and Edie Mae , I have not forgotten, and I will get even one day.

The best gifts my husband gave to me are: The Elton John Concert in Hong Kong, The Michael Buble concert in Memphis, and my beautiful blue Honda Del Sol sports car, I call Posh. Treasured memories, and one of the most fun toys I have EVER had.

Once our boys moved out and on with their lives, and we got custody of Crystal, we decided to move to Europe, and then around the world, using employment opportunities to set off on our next adventure. When it was time to move on to the next new home, it was always on my birthday. We were either moving into a place, or packing to move out of a place – or in accommodations between places. Since it was either a sad time, or an exciting time, there was never time to pay much attention to celebration. One exception, however, was when we were living in Hong Kong. The other moms with children Crystal’s age who attended the same international school as Crystal took me to lunch. It was a fabulous time, and each gift is still something I use today, or wear today. They are part of my treasure horde. Of course, tea in the plaza after school every day was special too. Sigh, I miss you all.

I guess I was busy having a life, and simply didn’t notice time sneaking past at such a rapid rate. Technology has overtaken the simple pleasures, and I miss that. I miss being the mom of growing boys (before teenage hell set in). I miss the summers at the swimming hole with Edie Mae and her girls, and Candy and her boys along with me and my kids. I miss the Plaza with the ladies there and their kids, I miss the women in London and Nottingham, and I miss the dear friends in New Zealand, especially Leah who was more than willing to give me a kick in the attitude when I needed one most. I miss being young and strong physically even if I am old and stronger emotionally and have more wisdom.

The older I get, the less it matters if we celebrate my birthday or not. It is a day I do a lot of reflection on my life. Since it is so close to Christmas, and the anniversary of my baptismal date this month, there always seems to be more important things to focus on. Especially, for me, spiritual matters.

But I still don’t understand how I got from 22 to 62 so darned fast! The upside, is now I have grandchildren, and great grandchildren to love and spoil. I have a husband of 45 years, who has grown up and old with me. And who can still carry on a conversation and debate over all sorts of interesting topics with me, Who still, after all this time, wants to have adventures with me. So, I guess the real trade off of getting old, is that I have had a great life, get to do so much more, and know that life is still full of adventures.

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.

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.

Prejudice, Choice, Preference


Recently, I had a rather heated discussion with someone concerning racism. Which is, as we all know, a form of prejudice. It is my opinion that prejudice is part of most cultures and is definitely rampant amongst certain social groups. The definition of the word prejudice [prej-uh-dis] as follows:

Noun:

1. an unfavorable opinion or feeling formed beforehand or without knowledge, thought, or reason.

2. any preconceived opinion or feeling, either favorable or unfavorable.

3. unreasonable feelings, opinions, or attitudes, especially of a hostile nature, regarding an ethnic, racial, social, or religious group.

4. such attitudes considered collectively: The war against prejudice is never-ending.

5. damage or injury; detriment: a law that operated to the prejudice of the majority.

6. Verb (used with object), prejudiced, prejudicing.

to affect with a prejudice, either favorable or unfavorable: His honesty and sincerity prejudiced us in his favor.

7. Idioms

without prejudice, Law. without dismissing, damaging, or otherwise affecting a legal interest or demand.

(I know, it one is not supposed to use dictionary definitions when trying to make a point, it is a lazy way of doing so. However, there are those who simply haven’t a clue concerning the real meaning of the word, nor do they know how to use it properly in either the written or spoken English/American language.)

So, if prejudice is to prejudge and form an opinion in the negative without knowledge, thought, or reason, does that mean a person prejudges and creates a prejudice that it is a choice based on bogus or non information? No, really, I am serious. Because, quite frankly, I am really tired of being labeled by those who don’t bother to gain knowledge concerning a topic before spouting off and blaming everyone but their own prejudging for all the wrongs in the world.

Is it a prejudice to prefer one particular football team over all others to the total exclusion of other teams, or is it a preference based on knowledge, thought, or reason? Is it a preconceived opinion or feeling that is unreasonable but based within ones social sphere of other fans of that team? Is it a knee jerk emotional reaction to get angry when that team loses, or does one stop and think through the game and realize that the other team was simply better that day? Or, does one get simply want to take the anger out on the coach or a team member in an emotional reaction based on unreasonable feelings? Is it a choice or is it a preference? One based on logic and knowledge, or one base in emotional overload.

Is it prejudice or racism to enjoy a song by a black singer that is also a hit by a singer of another color? Is it choice based on knowledge and understanding of that piece of music, or is it a prejudice against the black singer if you like the other singer better? Choice/preference or prejudice? Do your prefer the non black singer because of your preconceived ideas, or because of hostile feelings toward the person of color, or do you simply happen to like one rendition over the other because it sounds better to you? For instance, I prefer the Bing Crosby rendition of White Christmas, because it reminds me of my childhood and happy times. I don’t dismiss the value of other singers, no matter their background, but I prefer that song for personal reasons. I willingly listen to most other singers and their renditions, but that one will always be my favorite. Does that make me prejudiced toward other singers, or do I have a preference?

When it comes down to it, we all have prejudices about myriad of things, people, issues, and yes, football teams. Some of us are never going to wear Manolo heels, not because we have an issue with Manolo, but because high heels hurt our feet. Logic says, if it hurts, don’t do that again. But, some of us will also not wear products made in places where they keep people working for pennies as virtual slaves because we are against that sort of thing. We are prejudice, however, we are also making a choice based on knowledge and understanding of the suffering of the workers. That fine line between choice and prejudice is only crossed when we, as human beings, take those feelings out on other people because we allow emotion to overcome logic and knowledge of the facts.

It is well known among my friends and unfriends (a few have done so because I won’t back down on certain issues), that I do not bow to white guilt. There are two reasons, first, slavery happened over a century before I was born. I had nothing to do with it therefore I have no guilt over what my ancestors may or may not have done in the past. Second, I was raised in the US Military post Korean War. Therefore, I grew up with, went to school with, engaged with, and befriended children of all colors, cultures, and backgrounds. Living on an Army base, especially overseas, was like living in a special world where everyone just got on with doing what had to be done. There was no time, nor place, for racism, prejudice, or attitudes. Choice or preference, or simply how things were?

Along the lines of refusing to bow to white guilt, I am adamantly opposed to allowing enemies of my country into the United States. Jihadist Islam is not something that we should tolerate in a freedom loving country based on the values and morals within the Constitution and Bill of Rights. The culture and religion of the radical Islamist is exactly opposite of what most Americans believe and they are a threat to our security. Some would say I am a bigot or a racists, and I would be if this opinion was based on knee jerk emotional reactions and not on knowledge, logic, and an understanding of what the jihadist radical islamic people believe and what they want to do to all who do not believe exactly as they do. Ergo, people, it is the JRI who are prejudiced, bigoted, and racist – not I.

However, there are those that believe I should be ashamed of my thoughts, and I should welcome refugees (I use the term loosely here) who hate our country to waltz right in and do as they will. We should bow down to their demands and give them everything they want so they will like us and not hurt us. How did that work out for other countries and cultures in the past? Read your history, it is about to be repeated because people are terrified to stand up and state the obvious after all their social media group will lambaste them into submission by using guilt and passive aggressive attacks. So, is it choice to stand up to the enemies, is it prejudice to want to stop others from taking away our freedom, is it a preference to remain free, or is it simply the way things are?

I don’t care what your skin color may be, or not. I don’t care where you live, or who your social groups are, as long as you aren’t hurting others, cheating others, taking from others without giving back, or using your social groups to make impossible demands so you can remain a child in an adult body.

I don’t demand anything of anyone, I ask that people remember how far we have come from 1864 and how much change was wrought by Martin Luther King and his followers, black and white. (With, of course, the exception of the ambulance chasing rabble rousers like Sharpton, Jackson, and Farrakhan.)

Under the changes that took place during and after the tenure of Dr. King, the world opened up for everyone of color – and changed the world for everyone in the United States. It wasn’t until the radicalized people like the Black Panthers and Malcolm X took over that the peaceful changing world of race acceptance was shattered. It wasn’t until the US government displace fathers in the black communities, thriving black communities by the way, and families fell apart that we began to see the gangs form and violence foment within the broken communities. When Uncle Sam became Daddy Sam, many succumbed to the easy money and gradual erosion of personal accomplishment and pride in a job well done. Things went from “I can do this” to “I deserve this because of my skin color.” Yet even with the violence – mostly black young men killing black young men who have been disenfranchised as valuable to the community – there are those who see past the propaganda and refuse to be yet another government statistic. Bravo for them! It is too bad that those with so much potential become so convinced that they are worthless simply because the government tells them so to keep them on the welfare system. Does that make me prejudiced toward people of color? No, because the facts and knowledge based on information provided by the communities and history of the people themselves provide the logic behind my words. A knee jerk prejudice reaction would be to assume that all people of color are violent, ignorant, and worthless. Kind of like all Democratic senators did after the civil war. And, like Lyndon Johnson and his cronies did after the death of Dr. King. After all, he created the great welfare program resulting in the enslavement of the minds of the black communities.

Before, you go pointing fingers, making assumptions, loudly proclaiming someone a certain label, take a look at how you are behaving. Are you being prejudicial, based on emotion and preconceived ideas planted in your minds by those with an agenda to control you and your thoughts and ideas, or are you making a choice in how you behave based on knowledge, understanding, and facts found within today’s news and yesterday’s history? Are you spouting slogans like parrots forced upon your conscience by repetition of those who are prejudging those who are not like you, or, are you thinking past the hype and searching for the rock bottom truth behind the propaganda? Is it prejudice, choice, or preference? Who is making you point fingers and label others? Is it really you, or is it a feel good reaction to unpleasant truths? Really, I would love to know. Because I am really tired of being called names when I disagree with the popular propaganda machine robots. Really.

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.