The other day, our big columnist at the paper, who has an equally big fb presence, threw out to the wolvesmasses a letter he’d gotten chastising him for giving money that readers donated to him to distribute to needy folks. In it, the person (who actually identified herself later downthread out of ... guilt, I guess?) had this to say about one of the recipients:

I, naturally, couldn’t resist:



To which I was promptly told my comment was “disgusting” and “totally inappropriate,” which I then said was my point because who the hell would deny a struggling mom first of all, but second, it was Jerry’s money to do with as he saw fit. But really, my point—and I did explain this as well—was that here’s a woman who’s chosen to have five children like the fascist anti-abortion cabalmany people feel she must, and she’s getting vilified for that choice; yet mention the alternative, and OMG! What a HORRIBLE thing to say! Well, Ok, so what do we want her to do, then!?? One of the commentors to whom I addressed my thoughts agreed that my comment might be better suited for another thread and pulled it back to how she once thought she was on top of the world with her fancy education and learned that’s not how it works, etc., etc., which whatever, Lady. My comment WAS valid, if tangential, and I put that it might be better served in a different thread only to coddle your delicate sensibilities. Next time, I ain’t going to worry about that shit.

And—AND!—if I may continue on this soapbox for a moment, if anyone ever thought leaving charity solely to churches and people’s “voluntary kindness” without any sort of government safety net is the way it should happen, this is exACTly why it can’t: Individuals cannot be relied upon to neither not judge nor be consistent with meeting the needs of so many people, and anyone who says they’d rather be able to help on their own terms rather than ponying up and letting the government make the choice is delusional, at best. A guy with whom I went to high school, for example, was all stiff because he either donated to his church or gave to a needy family over the holidays or some shit, and he’d posted on fb about what a wonderful feeling it gave him to be able to give and “that’s how it should be.”

Well sure, that’s great, Richie, you helped out a family for a day or maybe even a week if you were extra-generous—now how ‘bout the other 51 weeks or 364 days? Who’s going to help then? And what about the other millions of people who need help? Based on the hard-on you got from how nice it felt to give, are you prepared to sustain that level of giving/ecstasy!? Because from what I understand, NO ONE can without benefit of really good drugs, and THEN you end up getting raw and hurty from the exertion, anyway. (Don’t do drugs, kids!) ANYway, I continue to be mystified by this idea many people have that those with money are the answer to everything, because they aren’t, at least not to any degree that eradicates even a little the suffering of the human condition. Let the government take its chunk and deliver it to as many as it feasibly can, and be done with it.

So things have gone on in the what, year and a half that I haven’t been here? Among them are these:

-- The little Gray Ghost passed a month after I last posted, in what had to be the worst way a person who’d never previously put down an animal could’ve experienced. (Stupid vile, hateful local 24-7 clinic I hope spontaneously combusts with every employee in it.) But we now have Hurricane Carol, who’s been a wonderfully kooky addition to the resort.

-- Rube, meanwhile, has been having tummy trouble again and could possibly have lymphoma, but the vet isn’t quite convinced of that, so we’re treating him for IBD first. And that’s what I’m sticking to.

-- Had some great stories, especially the last couple months of 2011. Besides the RCPM gig, there’s been the first gay National Guardsman to reenlist (big ol’ scoop, that one was), the private inauguration of Gary’s first black woman mayor (there was a public one the week after, but I muscled my way in to the first one when the press wasn’t supposed to be there) and the rescue and aftermath of two little boys whose mom was burned to death in a housefire, which wasn’t a scoop but I got some really good angles out of it. We have new overlords at the paper aGAIN, so who knows exactly what that means, but we ALSO have direct deposit finally, so I’ve been a straight-up ballah, what with not overdrawing my account and all. Like, one day I went to get $20 out of my account and discovered I had close to $1,700 left, and I really didn’t know how that happened! It was amazing!

-- After three-plus years of celibacy, sex even happened quite a bit, but let me ask y’all something: When was someone going to tell me that sex with someone with whom you can barely have a cogent conversation is SO MUCH FUN!?? Damn, yo! Now, I pulled some shit in my 20s, but the Summer of Slut/Autumn of Ass had me hearing, “You did NOT!” quite often by the crew. Well yes, yes I did, and with very little regret.

Because it’s me, however, there was someone with whom I’d hoped to see where things went—completely against my better judgment because also remember, it IS me and I’m nothing if not entirely too optimistic for my own good. (True fact: If someone says to you they aren’t with anyone because they haven’t found someone worthy of them yet (emphasis mine), have a hearty, derisive laugh with your friends about it, by all means, but then take it as the warning it inevitably is.) But it happened and, after a long, emotional (also: DRUNK) email exchange at least on my part, it’s done. Of course, as I’m sitting here achy and hoping like fuck I’m not coming down with death, I’m kinda feeling his not being around—the person I’d hoped he was, at any rate. Who he turned out to be? Not so much, and I REALLY hate the disappointment of that.

I’m sure the heifers will remind of whatever I’m forgetting, but for now, Ima take me a Tylenol with codeine and hope I don’t die between now and my shift tomorrow.

Stupid car depreciation falling off my list of things I can deduct. So much for being frugal about shit.

Worse thing is, the so-called “rebate” won’t even cover my whole tax bill. Boo-URNS.

If you try to live your life by the “Accept things as they are, not how you want them to be” paradigm but also “The law of attraction” paradigm (wherein you put out into the universe exactly what you want and how you want it, etc.), how exactly do you reconcile the two?

This is the shit I think about when I’m lying on the couch stuffed-up, miserable and weepy, but then I get bored and don’t process it all the way through. Also, I had a dream this morning that I SWORE I was going to write about, but then I fell back asleep and forgot it.

So yesterday I’m sitting in a luncheon assignment listening to a trio of legislators about Indiana’s impending tax crisis of doom when a grown man walks in and sits down at the table—doused profusely in the dreaded stench. I would’ve asked him about his cologne choice, but he kissed the woman sitting at the table with me, and when I turned around to see who it was, she gave me the hairy eyeball, and I didn’t feel like getting shanked with a salad fork.

Thankfully, my neighbor hasn’t burned any more of the crap, but now we’re back to her boyfriend’s big-ass Escalade taking up all the parking spaces in front of the crib. God, that’s a pointless-looking vehicle.

My first cold since maybe last year, and I get it from a 5-month old. I can’t kill a 5-month old!

Anybody got a long-handled spork so I can stop the infernal itching in my head!??

Mer hasn't even touched down yet, and already Mother is making this a giant headache for me. Sigh.

The party was lovely: Tons of food, former co-workers I haven't seen in a few months with their lovely children, plenty of beer, the whole deal. And I got to spend a whole 15 minutes with everyone before I had to go back to my boss' crib to file my two stories. By the time I got done, everyone was gone. There was cake still left out when I came back, though, and beer, of which I pounded two cans before I left.

(...)

Does it end there? Of course it doesn't: I look at my story on the cop shooting this morning, and the reporter who took my dictation (because I never really did figure out how to work my boss' computer; they had so much spyware and anti-virus stuff on it) made it all wordy and weird, which annoys me to no end, especially since he's a good writer otherwise.

And today's story? A woman who saved two starving kittens abandoned on the side of a highway and how police in three different munis laughed at her for wanting them to help her figure out what to do. I think I'll just go slit my wrists now.

You know how I said I was going to a party today? Yeah. Guess who got called up to work a cop shooting and be on call the rest of the day?

Sigh.

I told the poor editor who had to inflict this upon me that I promise to remain sober enough to work.

I did spend a good portion of the day trying to force myself to come up with something about him, though, and that's not the way you're supposed to commemorate someone, at least in my mind.

Also, I'm cranky because I had all these plans for Mer and Snidge coming in this weekend (as it is MY High Holiday), and there was going to be much laughter and merriment. But Mer's in the Dominican Republic with her mom as a gift for earning her Master's, and Snidge is out in DC at an Aimee Mann show tonight which, I mean, c'mon, Punta Cana and Aimee Mann vs. NWI? Yeah, that's not rocket science there. But I had PLANS, y'all, and now I'm stuck working all weekend with few plans and no friends* with which to share them.

[/wehwehweh]

I have one of those allergy headaches that feels like someone's stabbing you in the temple/ear. And it sucks.

Going to go drown in my own snot now. Good night.

Stupid allegies

that not only do I have hillbillies and an overabundance of screaming brats pollutingpulating the cul-de-sac, I forgot about the Cougher, who spends his nights coughing and hacking up his lungs as well as the lungs of everyone within a square mile of Chez Broad. It's really unpleasant, I have to say.

Another year, another having to sort through my receipts to see how much I'm going to get butt-raped by the guvmint. Thankfully, Greta's going to help me through it, but still, Gah.

Remember how I was all excited about my new bag? Yeah. All of a sudden, I'm kinda sorta bugged out, because it's a bag that was a new style for Fall 2004. I mean, I still love it and all, but dude, Fall 2004.

Is that shallow?

I need it to go with my new shower curtain, which I bought earlier:




Total departure from what I was originally attracted to, but it works. But I can't find a plain black and white striped towel to save my damn life, though. What is UP with this!?? Sheesh.