I am not sure how to label it correctly, but I am becoming a Disney pro, at least with regards to their movies, uhm, specifically the girlie ones, sadly.
Yes, there are days wherein we watch Beauty and the Beast or Little Mermaid 3 times in one day. Good thing the themes aren't suicide in those movies. But, I am at odds with The Little Mermaid. What a terrible motive it drives; disobey your parent, make a deal with the witch in order to get yourself in a better position with a guy who doesn't have a problem with statutory issues (Ariel being 16 and all...). Not only that, but then mortgaging your dad's soul only to have your new boyfriend kill your enemy, and then have daddy grant your misguided wish in the end. Hate it.
As it was pointed out to me earlier this week, Disney certainly has issues with putting mothers in their movies. Please note that Ariel, Belle, Snow White, Jasmine, Lilo (and Stitch) and Cinderella do not have moms. Others would be Nemo and Bambi who have mom's that are voiolently killed. Pinocchio is, uh, I guess it doesn't matter -- Jiminy Cricket is his mom in a way. There are a few with moms, but they play very minor roles; Mulan, Sleeping Beauty (aka, Aurora, Briar Rose), thankfully the Incredibles have a mom that is prominent. There are a some movies where having a mother is not so important; Toy Story, WALL-E, and perhaps even Simba of the Lion King. (I need to watch this one again.)
I suppose in a way it is to have us connect more quickly with a sympathetic bond to the character, but overall, I mean, these stories could have been avoided with a good mother having NOT been killed off by malicious Disney writers. I mean, maybe Ariel would have made it to her 17th birthday unwed had she been reared by a caring mother. (Although she is a head-strong redhead -- hard to say.) At the same time, I could cite King Triton as culpable as he CLEARLY engaged in polygamy looking at all the closely aged daughters he has. And no son to speak of... slow swimmers I guess. Stay out of the hot tub buddy.
Belle has class and grace, so I imagine her mother died not too long ago since in the beginning Belle sings of having recently moved to this "provincial town." Creating a back story, I reckon her father moved out of the loving house he and his wife had built, to a place that didn't remind him of her. Coincidentally, I feel Gaston has a back story of knowing about the beast and the castle he lives in which he all-of-a-sudden mentions during his song. I've already put together a pretty good story for that.
Cinderella's mom died early on, as the beginning says as much. Of course, she gets that wicked step-mother who does not have much foresight. Look, your daughters get uglier with age, so bank on Cinderella making it big and taking care of the whole family later on. She really messed up, and if I had been Cinderella in a non-gay way, those step-family members would find their respective heads on chopping blocks.
Jasmine is probably the product of a drunken sultan and a full harem. Arabian nights for sure... nuff said. But that lack of mothering led her into the arms of a common thief. Sure, in the end he pretends to be a good guy, but I bet he turned to thievery because he didn't have a caring mom either.
I don't like Snow White. Any chick that digs living with 7 dwarves is NOT my kind of woman and should seek counseling for such fetishes. And those seven dwarves are idiots, not lovable as they obviously have no clue for managing finances. They work every day in a mine replete with gems and diamonds, and yet live in a one bedroom cottage. I don't buy it. They must be using that filthy lucre for other devious methods, such as crack-cocaine addiction or monthly membership dues to NAMBLA. A mother could have steered Snow White clear of such devises.
Lilo is set up to be an obvious match for a maniacal escape alien convict on the run. And because I like Stitch, I'll let this motherless duo slide. But, again, had a mother been involved, Stitch would have been booted out for reasons any human would; it's a friggin' alien!
So I wonder if the overall message from Disney is to show us just how important mothers really are. By giving us these motherless stories, they demonstrate just how bad it can be without a mom in the life of a child. Because clearly these father-only families are just not cutting it.
My regards to Nemo and Bambi, but I am sure your respective mothers were tasty. Actually, haven eaten a Bambi mother myself, I can vouch for that. And yes, I'd do it again even if it provoked another motherless Disney movie.
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
Sickening times
Not too chipper these days, and it's not so much about being unemployed (still), but because of being sick altogether. Especially since I am on the 6th day of this "cold". I don't feel "cold" so I am not sure why it is called that. I feel miserable, and thus it should be called.
It is kinda hard getting over this; I've taken vitamins, pills, and tried to sleep more but the rambunctious 2 year old here, in all her overt loud ways, limits my naps to 15 minute increments at best.
I suppose I do not feel miserable as much, though. I mean, now I feel okay, but my nose is clogged and I have a cough, but I feel well enough to maybe do a push-up or maybe run to the mailbox. Even when I am not sick, those are pushing the normal limits. I just hate waking up with a plugged up nose, unable to breathe, and coughing up a storm. So I sound terrible, but feel okay.
As for the employment front, I finally applied for unemployment; the first time in my life. I was hoping to never use those benefits, but now I'll gain a new perspective on living life. One less point for me to make fun of poor people I guess. Don't worry, I'll think of something witty to replace it. In the meantime, I do have a job interview with HeadStart on Thursday, so I really need to get over this "miserable."
It is kinda hard getting over this; I've taken vitamins, pills, and tried to sleep more but the rambunctious 2 year old here, in all her overt loud ways, limits my naps to 15 minute increments at best.
I suppose I do not feel miserable as much, though. I mean, now I feel okay, but my nose is clogged and I have a cough, but I feel well enough to maybe do a push-up or maybe run to the mailbox. Even when I am not sick, those are pushing the normal limits. I just hate waking up with a plugged up nose, unable to breathe, and coughing up a storm. So I sound terrible, but feel okay.
As for the employment front, I finally applied for unemployment; the first time in my life. I was hoping to never use those benefits, but now I'll gain a new perspective on living life. One less point for me to make fun of poor people I guess. Don't worry, I'll think of something witty to replace it. In the meantime, I do have a job interview with HeadStart on Thursday, so I really need to get over this "miserable."
Monday, November 10, 2008
Not like the movies
Last night when I went to bed, I noted that my band aid had come off my thumb.
Saturday evening, I went the easy route for cooking and baked a frozen pizza. Sure, I spruced it up by adding more pepperoni and olives, but frozen pizzas taste like frozen pizzas; I don't care what Digiorno's tells us in their commercials. Anyway, while reaching into the drawer to retrieve the pizza cutter, my right thumb grazed the potato peeler and efficiently grated a nice chunk out of the tip of my thumb. That potato peeler has never been so effective!
Well, it bleed quit a bit, so I had to get a band aid for it lest I add more sauce to the pizza than desired. Of course, they really do not make band aids for the tip of your thumb with a skin flap that just kinda dangles there. So I tailored a band aid to suit my needs. I do it all the time, actually. As a matter of fact, if there was a pageant for tailored band aids, I would be a band aid beauty quee ... uhm, nevermind.
Anyway, the point is that my haute couture band aid was missing when I went to bed last night. And I can't sleep with that errant flap of skin rubbing the wrong away against the blankets. It just feels wrong. And rather than sculpting a new band aid, I opted to do what I had heard of, and then recently seen in the new Incredible Hulk movie, which is to improvise with super glue. And lo and behold, I had just bought 2 tubes of it last week. It was destiny, obviously.
So, at about 1am or thereabouts, I decided it was time to McGyver my injuries. Well, I opened up a tube and I guess I was holding it wrong because a huge glob of glue emerged over the wound. Naturally, I tried to quickly spread it into the area and you'll never guess what happened. Yeah, all of a sudden my index finger was glued to my thumb, making the world's most perfect 'A-OK' sign. I would have won that pageant too. Not to mention some sort of Darwin award, although that usually entails death and I hadn't made it that far, yet.
Next step in this brave process was pulling out a steak knife and cutting the two fingers apart. It took way too long, and not surprisinly, the flap of skin was not secured. Another glob came out, an this time I got the flap of skin down, but also managed to get the bottle of super-glue stuck to my thumb as I was using that to secure the flap down. Ridiculous! Looked so much easier in the movies! But, I was able to get it off with some moderate pulling.
So this morning, I looked at my worthy self-made reparations. Behold! I now have a dead flap of skin stuck to my body. Yeah, apparently I should have just cut off the flap of skin an moved on with my life. Now I have to wait for the glue to wear off and let my body heal itself, without my meddling. So that means, of all the pageants I could have won, clearly the pageant of stupidity was my fortee. C'est la vie...
Saturday evening, I went the easy route for cooking and baked a frozen pizza. Sure, I spruced it up by adding more pepperoni and olives, but frozen pizzas taste like frozen pizzas; I don't care what Digiorno's tells us in their commercials. Anyway, while reaching into the drawer to retrieve the pizza cutter, my right thumb grazed the potato peeler and efficiently grated a nice chunk out of the tip of my thumb. That potato peeler has never been so effective!
Well, it bleed quit a bit, so I had to get a band aid for it lest I add more sauce to the pizza than desired. Of course, they really do not make band aids for the tip of your thumb with a skin flap that just kinda dangles there. So I tailored a band aid to suit my needs. I do it all the time, actually. As a matter of fact, if there was a pageant for tailored band aids, I would be a band aid beauty quee ... uhm, nevermind.
Anyway, the point is that my haute couture band aid was missing when I went to bed last night. And I can't sleep with that errant flap of skin rubbing the wrong away against the blankets. It just feels wrong. And rather than sculpting a new band aid, I opted to do what I had heard of, and then recently seen in the new Incredible Hulk movie, which is to improvise with super glue. And lo and behold, I had just bought 2 tubes of it last week. It was destiny, obviously.
So, at about 1am or thereabouts, I decided it was time to McGyver my injuries. Well, I opened up a tube and I guess I was holding it wrong because a huge glob of glue emerged over the wound. Naturally, I tried to quickly spread it into the area and you'll never guess what happened. Yeah, all of a sudden my index finger was glued to my thumb, making the world's most perfect 'A-OK' sign. I would have won that pageant too. Not to mention some sort of Darwin award, although that usually entails death and I hadn't made it that far, yet.
Next step in this brave process was pulling out a steak knife and cutting the two fingers apart. It took way too long, and not surprisinly, the flap of skin was not secured. Another glob came out, an this time I got the flap of skin down, but also managed to get the bottle of super-glue stuck to my thumb as I was using that to secure the flap down. Ridiculous! Looked so much easier in the movies! But, I was able to get it off with some moderate pulling.
So this morning, I looked at my worthy self-made reparations. Behold! I now have a dead flap of skin stuck to my body. Yeah, apparently I should have just cut off the flap of skin an moved on with my life. Now I have to wait for the glue to wear off and let my body heal itself, without my meddling. So that means, of all the pageants I could have won, clearly the pageant of stupidity was my fortee. C'est la vie...
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
Upon reflection
The other day my wife asked me if my boss had ever responded to my email, in which I responded that he had, technically, by replying that it "was a long email," and that he would have to "give it some consideration." At that point in our conversation, I had that epiphanical 'Ah-ha!' moment. Yes, I made up the word "epiphanical," we're still allowed to make up words so long as Bush is in office.
Anyway, migrating back to the original point at hand, I'll need to give you some background on working at the state, specifically for the Oregon Health Plan. First, my manager/boss had been there at the state 3 weeks less than myself. He had come out of the Marines as a Staff Sergeant, and was now within the cubicle bliss like the rest of us. I mostly liked him, well, up until last Friday. Still, I respect him for his service in Iraq, and so on and so forth.
Next, when I was hired, it was expected that a worker would process 10 claims per day, 200 per month. In so doing, we were getting 10,000 applications processed per month (in September). In August, we were about 800 applications behind schedule. When I left, it was up to 5,000. This was due to the weakening economy, so more families were defaulting to OHP for medical coverage. Plus, the Reservation List applications were coming in too (there was a lottery for adults to get on OHP). So, succinctly put, we were getting inundated with applications.
Thus, it was completely unexpected when a new policy was handed down that we now needed to keep applications alive longer, twice as long, as previously. Again, some background for you; If you were to request an application for OHP benefits today, your Date of Request (DOR) would be 11/4/08. You now have 45 days to get that application in to an OHP branch, otherwise, your DOR is null and a new DOR is set the day we finally get the new application. The point of the DOR is that we will back-track your OHP coverage to that day.
Okay, moving forward, now let's say you have benefits already, and it's now time for recertification (recert). We mail you an application and you HAVE to get it back the month your coverage ends. If you don't then we DD deny them. Kind of redundant terminology, DD stands for Date Denial, so saying DD Deny means you're repeating words. But, that's the jargon.
Okay, so let's say that November is your recert month, you get your application in today, and you don't provide all your proof of income for the past 3 months. So we'll "pend" you for more information, giving you 45 days to respond. 45 days from today, by my layman math, is 12/19/08. If a worker doesn't get it, by the old standard, then you sent out the DD paperwork and the case was closed. Not so now, let's say you actually do get the information, but it's a week late or more. Well now you have to repull the denied application, and let's just say it wasn't all the "pended" information either, you now have to give them an additional 45 days, thus pushing the time into February for response. And, the benefits are still retroactive to November.
So, we're already 5,000 applications behind schedule and rising, and now we're supposed to hold onto application an additional 45 days for up to 90 days total, thereby creating more work? Well, in that same week, we were told that we now have to process 12 applications a day, 250 a month. They changed it a little, before we were "pushed" 10 apps (applications) a day by our supervisors. Now they are only pushing 7, but it was up to us to get the additional 5 done.
A little more background to understand: OHP is paperless. We don't get the paper app that you would fill out. Instead, we get a scanned version sent to our desktop. And the denials we send out are never seen by us in the tangible sense. Before hand, when you were done with the 10 apps and felt like doing more, you would check the general program queue that would list out names, DOBs, Case #, SS#, and any other salient information for cases waiting to be processed. But, because we now had the option to pick at least 5, all information save for the client name, were blocked out. Accordingly, they didn't want us to discriminate on the details of cases.
I can somewhat understand this, however, there was one serious repercussion, it also blocked out the information on our already processed and pended cases. So if you had already requested information on a case, it was in your queue waiting to be finished. If a client called, you could look up their name in the pend queue, see the case number, and look up what you did. Not anymore. You would now have to do a person search, and if their name was John Smith or Jose Garcia, good luck finding them, 1 in 10,000 at least.
I hope this gives you a good enough foundation to understand all that was swirling about. We had a team "huddle" -- I guess meetings are so passe -- and discussed these changes. There were lots of dissents. We had an airing of grievances, but I was pretty quiet since I was the lowest man on the totem pole. Anyway, I told my boss that I would send him an email, and I summarized the above, and added in some things that I thought would be helpful.
In hindsight, however, I see that I challenged his authority on that matter. I told him that blocking out that information wasn't necessary because all cases would be worked anyway, so there was no discrimination since every day, he would be pushing apps to our queue. Plus, it added an extra step to our processing as well since we couldn't see the case numbers in our pend queue. Blocking out that information was his idea. I also commented on the new policy which ultimately gave the client more reason to be lazy, and more work for us, plus, cost the department more money because it gave benefits where they weren't deserved.
Yeah, I overstepped my boundaries. It's kind of obvious now. I made it as professional as I know how. My early retirement was perhaps a culmination of things, but honestly, I was just trying to make things more efficient -- I guess I was barking up the wrong, uhm, state. And clearly, had I gone along with the sexual harassment thing as cited in the other post, I'd probably be a manager myself by now. I mean, I am efficient...
Anyway, migrating back to the original point at hand, I'll need to give you some background on working at the state, specifically for the Oregon Health Plan. First, my manager/boss had been there at the state 3 weeks less than myself. He had come out of the Marines as a Staff Sergeant, and was now within the cubicle bliss like the rest of us. I mostly liked him, well, up until last Friday. Still, I respect him for his service in Iraq, and so on and so forth.
Next, when I was hired, it was expected that a worker would process 10 claims per day, 200 per month. In so doing, we were getting 10,000 applications processed per month (in September). In August, we were about 800 applications behind schedule. When I left, it was up to 5,000. This was due to the weakening economy, so more families were defaulting to OHP for medical coverage. Plus, the Reservation List applications were coming in too (there was a lottery for adults to get on OHP). So, succinctly put, we were getting inundated with applications.
Thus, it was completely unexpected when a new policy was handed down that we now needed to keep applications alive longer, twice as long, as previously. Again, some background for you; If you were to request an application for OHP benefits today, your Date of Request (DOR) would be 11/4/08. You now have 45 days to get that application in to an OHP branch, otherwise, your DOR is null and a new DOR is set the day we finally get the new application. The point of the DOR is that we will back-track your OHP coverage to that day.
Okay, moving forward, now let's say you have benefits already, and it's now time for recertification (recert). We mail you an application and you HAVE to get it back the month your coverage ends. If you don't then we DD deny them. Kind of redundant terminology, DD stands for Date Denial, so saying DD Deny means you're repeating words. But, that's the jargon.
Okay, so let's say that November is your recert month, you get your application in today, and you don't provide all your proof of income for the past 3 months. So we'll "pend" you for more information, giving you 45 days to respond. 45 days from today, by my layman math, is 12/19/08. If a worker doesn't get it, by the old standard, then you sent out the DD paperwork and the case was closed. Not so now, let's say you actually do get the information, but it's a week late or more. Well now you have to repull the denied application, and let's just say it wasn't all the "pended" information either, you now have to give them an additional 45 days, thus pushing the time into February for response. And, the benefits are still retroactive to November.
So, we're already 5,000 applications behind schedule and rising, and now we're supposed to hold onto application an additional 45 days for up to 90 days total, thereby creating more work? Well, in that same week, we were told that we now have to process 12 applications a day, 250 a month. They changed it a little, before we were "pushed" 10 apps (applications) a day by our supervisors. Now they are only pushing 7, but it was up to us to get the additional 5 done.
A little more background to understand: OHP is paperless. We don't get the paper app that you would fill out. Instead, we get a scanned version sent to our desktop. And the denials we send out are never seen by us in the tangible sense. Before hand, when you were done with the 10 apps and felt like doing more, you would check the general program queue that would list out names, DOBs, Case #, SS#, and any other salient information for cases waiting to be processed. But, because we now had the option to pick at least 5, all information save for the client name, were blocked out. Accordingly, they didn't want us to discriminate on the details of cases.
I can somewhat understand this, however, there was one serious repercussion, it also blocked out the information on our already processed and pended cases. So if you had already requested information on a case, it was in your queue waiting to be finished. If a client called, you could look up their name in the pend queue, see the case number, and look up what you did. Not anymore. You would now have to do a person search, and if their name was John Smith or Jose Garcia, good luck finding them, 1 in 10,000 at least.
I hope this gives you a good enough foundation to understand all that was swirling about. We had a team "huddle" -- I guess meetings are so passe -- and discussed these changes. There were lots of dissents. We had an airing of grievances, but I was pretty quiet since I was the lowest man on the totem pole. Anyway, I told my boss that I would send him an email, and I summarized the above, and added in some things that I thought would be helpful.
In hindsight, however, I see that I challenged his authority on that matter. I told him that blocking out that information wasn't necessary because all cases would be worked anyway, so there was no discrimination since every day, he would be pushing apps to our queue. Plus, it added an extra step to our processing as well since we couldn't see the case numbers in our pend queue. Blocking out that information was his idea. I also commented on the new policy which ultimately gave the client more reason to be lazy, and more work for us, plus, cost the department more money because it gave benefits where they weren't deserved.
Yeah, I overstepped my boundaries. It's kind of obvious now. I made it as professional as I know how. My early retirement was perhaps a culmination of things, but honestly, I was just trying to make things more efficient -- I guess I was barking up the wrong, uhm, state. And clearly, had I gone along with the sexual harassment thing as cited in the other post, I'd probably be a manager myself by now. I mean, I am efficient...
Friday, October 31, 2008
This is your real award.
"Let go." It's somewhere between being fired and laid off. Doesn't matter too much, for thus are the words I heard at the end of my work day. The same manager that gave me an award for my Halloween costume earlier in the day, would then hand me a letter advising me that they were letting me go during my 'trail period.' The best reason I was given, which was cited in the letter, was that my behavior was not inline with the core values of the department. I suspect it has to do with me advising a few co-workers and others about legal options for discrimination and workers' compensation issues. That would put me out of line with state business, or specifically, my job. In Oregon, employers do not actually have to give you a specific reason to be fired, or, as they told me, "let go."
I also have to wonder about the whole cougar incident. See, at one point my manager offered to put in a cubicle quad with other "seasoned" workers. Unfortunately, they wanted to put me in the same quad as the cougar. I quietly declined, and I was asked as to why not. I said that one of the women in there had come onto me, and that I just wanted to avoid any potential situation. Well that ballooned into a subsequent interrogation a few days later with HR reps, and words like "sexual harassment" were being dropped. If I had said 'yes' to the sexual harassment, and played ball, maybe I'd still be employed. The cougar was on probation anyway and apparently had been cited for relationships within the workplace before. I kinda feel like a martyr. I don't know if she was fired or not.
Instead, being the new guy and vehemently interested in self-preservation, I said that it was no big deal, I didn't want to make an issue of it, and that there was nothing further on the matter. Sadly, hindsight is 20/20, and perhaps my foresight wasn't working. And she never really gave up on pursuing me, but at the same time, other women we starting to drop hints too. Not all that unexpected when the workforce is close to 80% women, many of whom are unmarried.
Now I have two things to accomplish; find a new job as soon as possible, and remind myself of all the things I didn't like about that job. Not too hard, since I really did like the training, but being confined to an 8 x8 foot cubicle everyday (I was in my own) was hard. I really felt like an animal in a zoo cage. Still, this was supposed to be my launching point into a better state job, even though a 9 month hiring freeze was taking effect Nov. 1 through June. Or in other words, I don't know if I would have made it anyway. But at least I would have tried.
Stress and depression are merely a stone throw away. The financial burden will bear down quickly, so I suppose I had best get looking through those classified ads. Wish me luck, meanwhile, I'll be playing 'manny' with my daughter. And that's not so bad, but it isn't what I should be doing.
I also have to wonder about the whole cougar incident. See, at one point my manager offered to put in a cubicle quad with other "seasoned" workers. Unfortunately, they wanted to put me in the same quad as the cougar. I quietly declined, and I was asked as to why not. I said that one of the women in there had come onto me, and that I just wanted to avoid any potential situation. Well that ballooned into a subsequent interrogation a few days later with HR reps, and words like "sexual harassment" were being dropped. If I had said 'yes' to the sexual harassment, and played ball, maybe I'd still be employed. The cougar was on probation anyway and apparently had been cited for relationships within the workplace before. I kinda feel like a martyr. I don't know if she was fired or not.
Instead, being the new guy and vehemently interested in self-preservation, I said that it was no big deal, I didn't want to make an issue of it, and that there was nothing further on the matter. Sadly, hindsight is 20/20, and perhaps my foresight wasn't working. And she never really gave up on pursuing me, but at the same time, other women we starting to drop hints too. Not all that unexpected when the workforce is close to 80% women, many of whom are unmarried.
Now I have two things to accomplish; find a new job as soon as possible, and remind myself of all the things I didn't like about that job. Not too hard, since I really did like the training, but being confined to an 8 x8 foot cubicle everyday (I was in my own) was hard. I really felt like an animal in a zoo cage. Still, this was supposed to be my launching point into a better state job, even though a 9 month hiring freeze was taking effect Nov. 1 through June. Or in other words, I don't know if I would have made it anyway. But at least I would have tried.
Stress and depression are merely a stone throw away. The financial burden will bear down quickly, so I suppose I had best get looking through those classified ads. Wish me luck, meanwhile, I'll be playing 'manny' with my daughter. And that's not so bad, but it isn't what I should be doing.
Monday, October 27, 2008
Liberally Free
On Friday, one of my co-workers who is a union volunteer had the distinct privilege of going to a conference with Al Gore and getting something equivalent to a 'back-stage pass' after the conference. Needless to say that today she was still lost somewhere on cloud 9, wherever that is.
I take issue with lots of stuff, that's what primarily defines character, no? People who do not take a stand are typically boring as they don't know what to think, and never bother to look stuff up and thus remain in their awful state of ennui. Today I take issue with the term "liberal," as it clearly is a hypocritical title since it is applied to the wrong group of people.
The word is from Latin -- liberalis -- meaning; freedom, befitting of free, etc. Of course, it has a new meaning now: an entire political mindset that purports to be 'free', but in reality is readily waiting to enslave the masses into socialism or even better (I assume), communism. Looking at their agenda proves this; more taxes to pay for more government assistance. How does paying more taxes make you free? If anything, it makes you more dependent upon the hand that feeds.
Sure, universal healthcare is a neat idea -- no more haggling with HMO's over what is covered and at what cost [80% co-pays]. But will the quality of care increase? And what is the cost to the tax-payers as a whole? If I were a doctor, and all of a sudden I get the same flat rate, what would prompt me to give better care? If anything, I'd see more patient in less time. Sure, these are superficial arguments. Not to mention all the people out of work who were in the insurance industry.
I remember a saying, "[y]ou can take the man out of the slums, but you can't take the slums out of the man."In Spanish, they have a similar saying, "Aunque la mona se veste en ceda, la mona se queda." Or in other words, 'even though a monkey dresses in silk, it's still a monkey.' This is a truism that has been proven before. It's another reason why lottery winners often wind up broke and bankrupt. They didn't earn it, didn't know how to use it, and lost it all. That's one of the great things about earning your keep: you learn to respect what you've rightfully earned.
The main problem I have with Liberalism is they are way to eager to try and help people that, the whole point of accountability, responsibility, and basic self-respect are lost. I understand sometimes people need help, but people who need constant help do so because they know there is a perpetual obligation to help them. Instead of helping people up, it'll just keep everyone down on the same level without incentives to do better. Taxes will be 50% of your income, but at least we'll have universal health care, welfare programs, and Ben & Jerry's Ice cream made with real human milk. Damn you PETA, but I'll save that topic.
I've mentioned in other places, but the good ol' US of A is nearly a socialist country; we're just not taxed enough yet. But we have too many programs to pay for every year. That's why we're constantly over-budget and digging a deeper national dept. I know, I know, Bill Clinton balanced the budget years ago, and with a crippled military/nation defense because he drastically cut funding, that lead to a memorable September in 2001. Funny, Al Qeada had attacked the US at least 4 times prior to that during the Clinton years, and they never were punished for it. Til now. Whoops, side tanget.
So that is my marginal point today; despite the wrongfully named political mindset, how does being taxed 50% of your income make anyone free? You'll not be one lick happier with Liberals pushing for a socialistic approach to fix this country. You'll have less to be free with. And all your hard work will be for nothing save to pick up those that refuse to do so on their own. But at least our title will imply freedom; liberalis. Liberal US.
I take issue with lots of stuff, that's what primarily defines character, no? People who do not take a stand are typically boring as they don't know what to think, and never bother to look stuff up and thus remain in their awful state of ennui. Today I take issue with the term "liberal," as it clearly is a hypocritical title since it is applied to the wrong group of people.
The word is from Latin -- liberalis -- meaning; freedom, befitting of free, etc. Of course, it has a new meaning now: an entire political mindset that purports to be 'free', but in reality is readily waiting to enslave the masses into socialism or even better (I assume), communism. Looking at their agenda proves this; more taxes to pay for more government assistance. How does paying more taxes make you free? If anything, it makes you more dependent upon the hand that feeds.
Sure, universal healthcare is a neat idea -- no more haggling with HMO's over what is covered and at what cost [80% co-pays]. But will the quality of care increase? And what is the cost to the tax-payers as a whole? If I were a doctor, and all of a sudden I get the same flat rate, what would prompt me to give better care? If anything, I'd see more patient in less time. Sure, these are superficial arguments. Not to mention all the people out of work who were in the insurance industry.
I remember a saying, "[y]ou can take the man out of the slums, but you can't take the slums out of the man."In Spanish, they have a similar saying, "Aunque la mona se veste en ceda, la mona se queda." Or in other words, 'even though a monkey dresses in silk, it's still a monkey.' This is a truism that has been proven before. It's another reason why lottery winners often wind up broke and bankrupt. They didn't earn it, didn't know how to use it, and lost it all. That's one of the great things about earning your keep: you learn to respect what you've rightfully earned.
The main problem I have with Liberalism is they are way to eager to try and help people that, the whole point of accountability, responsibility, and basic self-respect are lost. I understand sometimes people need help, but people who need constant help do so because they know there is a perpetual obligation to help them. Instead of helping people up, it'll just keep everyone down on the same level without incentives to do better. Taxes will be 50% of your income, but at least we'll have universal health care, welfare programs, and Ben & Jerry's Ice cream made with real human milk. Damn you PETA, but I'll save that topic.
I've mentioned in other places, but the good ol' US of A is nearly a socialist country; we're just not taxed enough yet. But we have too many programs to pay for every year. That's why we're constantly over-budget and digging a deeper national dept. I know, I know, Bill Clinton balanced the budget years ago, and with a crippled military/nation defense because he drastically cut funding, that lead to a memorable September in 2001. Funny, Al Qeada had attacked the US at least 4 times prior to that during the Clinton years, and they never were punished for it. Til now. Whoops, side tanget.
So that is my marginal point today; despite the wrongfully named political mindset, how does being taxed 50% of your income make anyone free? You'll not be one lick happier with Liberals pushing for a socialistic approach to fix this country. You'll have less to be free with. And all your hard work will be for nothing save to pick up those that refuse to do so on their own. But at least our title will imply freedom; liberalis. Liberal US.
Monday, October 20, 2008
Mr Cloud, I presume.
Oddly, it happened again. The whole purpose for this blog to exist, mandated by one of those dreams that I do not cherish in the least. Interestingly, there is a parallel to a dream many moons ago, over 2 decades hence. The details from last night emerge.
I am either in the future, or in one of those modern homes that could double as an art gallery; svelte lines, uncomfortable furniture, and bold, yet blase color scheme (blacks, browns, bamboo flooring and white walls with large windows). High vaulted ceiling with exposed dark beams lumber overhead. There is a congregation of maybe a dozen people, none of whom I recognize, but I don't have any problems associating with them. Ages range from perhaps 10 years of age (a bored looking lad with a blond bowl cut hair), up to just over my age, a married couple of sorts. Intermingling with other people whom I don't pay enough attention to to describe, but they are round-about doing things. Probably being pretentious.
Sitting down at the table, the couple offer to show me a trick about this house. They place a cup face down on one end of the table, and it begins to gingerly scoot across the table, picking up speed until saved from falling off the edge by the husband. It is a neat trick, and I'm not sure how it's done. Then the boy does the same thing with a small car on the floor, it moves by itself. I inspect it, but it's just a simple car, no mechanics about it, not much to be magnetized. "This is not all," they inform me, " watch this," and then the boy, sitting Indian-style, is moved across the floor.
And then that feeling starts to ride up in me. The point when I perceive an evil in the room. It's not like looking at a biker-dude, with his shaved head, tattoos, scars and grimace that is natures way of saying "stay away," it's an inner conscious that tells you there is a foundation of evil that predates everything. A cold and bitter feeling the pervades your senses, and they know you're in the room with them, and they don't like it.
Again, this is a new detail to add into the otherwise normal equation that I typically face; it is daylight. All dreams regarding this topic have been in obscure or dark areas. But there is light outside. Not direct sunlight, but clearly bright enough to see outside to a distance.
People begin to levitate around me. They don't seem to care how, and they even enjoy it or so it appears. I tell the home owner that he really needs to consider having his home blessed. And I try to hold some people down by their ankles, but I can feel the power pushing them up. I fall back onto rebuking the entities in the name of Christ, and everytime I rebuke one, another ascends up. They just keep rotating around me; I get one down, another goes up, and then the one I rebuked earlier goes up again.
Now just about every one is high above me and then at once, they all drop with the force of gravity. Crunching sounds as bone contacts with hard flooring, and the people are pinned down screaming with these narrowly perceivable forms dog piling them, scratching and making weird grinding noises. I command all spirits to leave, and then it goes quiet. In retrospect, I should have done that in the first place instead of taking one on one.
The weird part is that these entities were not blamed. I was. I must have angered these "playful" spirits. I told them these were not to be trifled with, that they would eventually destroy whomever they could. But I was told not to fret over it. "We all have our personal demons we like to keep," and theirs were literal.
I don't remember what woke me up, but I was still thrawting these forms when I did wake up because I was still trembling and sweating. It's always odd waking up from these because you, literally, are afraid of the dark at that point. And I make it a habit not to look at the darkest points of my room, as I don't want to see the twisted, gnarly faces of evil staring back at me. Sure, I battle them in dreams, now more often than before and I am not sure why, but in reality, where I know they lurk, I have to maintain a barrier between the real and subliminal. Of course, I said a lengthy prayer right after waking up.
***
1984, or close to it, I had two concurrent dreams of the same nature. It was at my grandma's old farmhouse, a place that is always in my dreams, for better or worse. On this occasion, for worse.
Mr. Cloud was exactly that; a small cloud about 4 feet across and 2 feet high, with colorful streamers dangling down maybe three feet. He floated at about 5 feet elevation, drifting from one corner of the house, greeted much like that blissful happy face in the Walmart commercials -- everyone loves to see him as he 'rolls back prices'. I was ambivalant towards Mr. Cloud at best. Of course, that position changed drastically.
I was playing with armymen around the fireplace as Mr. Cloud hovered above me. With his streamers he signaled me to look up at the fireplace. As I did, I saw the face of my cousin being burned alive in the fireplace, flailing about in the flames. And not just one, but one after another. As soon as one was perished, another was tossed in.
I'd run and tell my parents, uncles, aunts and grandparents, but they'd defend Mr. Cloud vehemently. Then I'd ask where this or that cousin was, and I'd get a "probably up in the orchard" or "in the barn" but never the initiative to find them was taken. Not that it mattered, I knew where they really were. And everytime I went back, another would go in. Yet I couldn't leave, because I needed to see the evidence. Then I'd run back to my parents, and the cycle would continue.
Over the course of two nights this dream transpired. Mr. Cloud eliminated 6 cousins or so, and I got to see them all burn, yelling at the top of their lungs, rolling in the coals, but I was powerless to stop it. Kinda reminds me, in a way, of last night's dream and how people defend their personal demons. Not that I am blameless, by no means, but you can't be saved if you aren't willing to save yourself.
I'll get you Mr. Cloud...
I am either in the future, or in one of those modern homes that could double as an art gallery; svelte lines, uncomfortable furniture, and bold, yet blase color scheme (blacks, browns, bamboo flooring and white walls with large windows). High vaulted ceiling with exposed dark beams lumber overhead. There is a congregation of maybe a dozen people, none of whom I recognize, but I don't have any problems associating with them. Ages range from perhaps 10 years of age (a bored looking lad with a blond bowl cut hair), up to just over my age, a married couple of sorts. Intermingling with other people whom I don't pay enough attention to to describe, but they are round-about doing things. Probably being pretentious.
Sitting down at the table, the couple offer to show me a trick about this house. They place a cup face down on one end of the table, and it begins to gingerly scoot across the table, picking up speed until saved from falling off the edge by the husband. It is a neat trick, and I'm not sure how it's done. Then the boy does the same thing with a small car on the floor, it moves by itself. I inspect it, but it's just a simple car, no mechanics about it, not much to be magnetized. "This is not all," they inform me, " watch this," and then the boy, sitting Indian-style, is moved across the floor.
And then that feeling starts to ride up in me. The point when I perceive an evil in the room. It's not like looking at a biker-dude, with his shaved head, tattoos, scars and grimace that is natures way of saying "stay away," it's an inner conscious that tells you there is a foundation of evil that predates everything. A cold and bitter feeling the pervades your senses, and they know you're in the room with them, and they don't like it.
Again, this is a new detail to add into the otherwise normal equation that I typically face; it is daylight. All dreams regarding this topic have been in obscure or dark areas. But there is light outside. Not direct sunlight, but clearly bright enough to see outside to a distance.
People begin to levitate around me. They don't seem to care how, and they even enjoy it or so it appears. I tell the home owner that he really needs to consider having his home blessed. And I try to hold some people down by their ankles, but I can feel the power pushing them up. I fall back onto rebuking the entities in the name of Christ, and everytime I rebuke one, another ascends up. They just keep rotating around me; I get one down, another goes up, and then the one I rebuked earlier goes up again.
Now just about every one is high above me and then at once, they all drop with the force of gravity. Crunching sounds as bone contacts with hard flooring, and the people are pinned down screaming with these narrowly perceivable forms dog piling them, scratching and making weird grinding noises. I command all spirits to leave, and then it goes quiet. In retrospect, I should have done that in the first place instead of taking one on one.
The weird part is that these entities were not blamed. I was. I must have angered these "playful" spirits. I told them these were not to be trifled with, that they would eventually destroy whomever they could. But I was told not to fret over it. "We all have our personal demons we like to keep," and theirs were literal.
I don't remember what woke me up, but I was still thrawting these forms when I did wake up because I was still trembling and sweating. It's always odd waking up from these because you, literally, are afraid of the dark at that point. And I make it a habit not to look at the darkest points of my room, as I don't want to see the twisted, gnarly faces of evil staring back at me. Sure, I battle them in dreams, now more often than before and I am not sure why, but in reality, where I know they lurk, I have to maintain a barrier between the real and subliminal. Of course, I said a lengthy prayer right after waking up.
***
1984, or close to it, I had two concurrent dreams of the same nature. It was at my grandma's old farmhouse, a place that is always in my dreams, for better or worse. On this occasion, for worse.
Mr. Cloud was exactly that; a small cloud about 4 feet across and 2 feet high, with colorful streamers dangling down maybe three feet. He floated at about 5 feet elevation, drifting from one corner of the house, greeted much like that blissful happy face in the Walmart commercials -- everyone loves to see him as he 'rolls back prices'. I was ambivalant towards Mr. Cloud at best. Of course, that position changed drastically.
I was playing with armymen around the fireplace as Mr. Cloud hovered above me. With his streamers he signaled me to look up at the fireplace. As I did, I saw the face of my cousin being burned alive in the fireplace, flailing about in the flames. And not just one, but one after another. As soon as one was perished, another was tossed in.
I'd run and tell my parents, uncles, aunts and grandparents, but they'd defend Mr. Cloud vehemently. Then I'd ask where this or that cousin was, and I'd get a "probably up in the orchard" or "in the barn" but never the initiative to find them was taken. Not that it mattered, I knew where they really were. And everytime I went back, another would go in. Yet I couldn't leave, because I needed to see the evidence. Then I'd run back to my parents, and the cycle would continue.
Over the course of two nights this dream transpired. Mr. Cloud eliminated 6 cousins or so, and I got to see them all burn, yelling at the top of their lungs, rolling in the coals, but I was powerless to stop it. Kinda reminds me, in a way, of last night's dream and how people defend their personal demons. Not that I am blameless, by no means, but you can't be saved if you aren't willing to save yourself.
I'll get you Mr. Cloud...
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