Death Race 2010.

OK, so I was out driving my intrepid old Nissan to a shopping mall today to get my little brother the last post-Christmas gift I hadn't had a chance to pickup. Since he was visiting and likes to pick out his own things it was a perfect arrangement.

Now as a driver, I am obsessed with driving defensively. I also obey the laws of the road because I don't have points on my license, don't want points on my license and prefer to keep my relationship with law enforcement at an admiring distance.

So there I am driving. Carefully. Throughout the 20 minute shopping trip I encountered people: speeding, changing lanes like bats out of hell without signalling; one accident where someone tried to make a left turn after the light change, thus slamming into another car who was speeding and wham - one car without a bumper, a police cruiser on the scene and a traffic tie-up. Then someone nearly hit my car as I was pulling into the parking lot. When I honked - merely to alert them that there was a car behind them, the driver gave me the finger.

On the way out, a car ran a stop sign as I was already in the process of making my turn. Honked at me, long and loud and ranted from within their car. Using my blinker, I made my nice legal turn and continued on my way home.

At which point I was almost hit by someone making an illegal U-turn.

Almost impossible to believe I've never had an accident. But I've honed defensive driving to an art.

To the crappy drivers out there, think about being in your car with a loved one. Wouldn't you want all the other drivers to be safe, to follow the rules of the road, to use blinkers, stop at stop signs and refrain from speeding?

Slackers & Cry-babies

Nothing I hate worse than someone who takes on a responsibility and then abdicates because the job is harder than they thought. Or merely avoids doing the onerous tasks in favor of the ones that are fun. Or delegates all the unpleasant stuff to other folk and either does nothing or only does the cool stuff but then takes credit for the entire operation. Gotta love a Caligula! Or would Nero be a closer match to this personality type?

And of course this sort of behavior goes hand in hand with blaming everyone else when things don't go according to plan and chastising folk for daring to suggest there is a problem or taking to task the Nero in question for said slack.

Just one more reason to live on a deserted mountaintop and avoid the huddled masses.

The Subject of My Ire?

Well, today, lo and behold .... that would be moi. Me, myself and I. On the hot seat and in the corner with the dunce cap on. Little old Lise. Why, you ask, am I pissed at myself today? When there are so many worthy subjects to be focusing my disgust on? The people who cut ahead in line, the people who talk on cell phones on the bus and train, that guy last night who really ought to re-consider his steroid use who squeezed into the middle seat and then proceeded to SWELL - I kid you not - until I was squished between him and the winow, my poor aching back in AGONY ... well, hey, with all those folks, why pick on myself? Why take me to task?

Here's why. I'm guilty of felonious procrastination, that's why. It's not REAL procrastination - actually its avoidance in the first degree. I've managed to find a gazillion chores that need doing (and admittedly, yes, they all do need doing - when last I checked the dust bunnies were holding elections for their new democracy formed under my sofa). I find myself weak with exhaustion after draining days at work where bad news abounds - including no raises for the next 12 months, no more overtime, and lots of stress, pressure andfrustration. But that never used to stop me. Instead days like that made me redouble my efforts to produce, to utilize the personal time I did have on a bad day to "fight back", as it were, to show everyone there's no stopping me.

Now I seem to have stopped myself. Full stop, no forward motion, whatever that law of physics that says a motion at rest tends to stay at rest? Well I'm here, Einstein. Motionless.

I haven't given up - but my little half-assed efforts seem to be puny, at best. The "before" picture of the muscle-bound guy on the beach getting sand kicked in his face. I'm down, but I'm not out.

So pardon me while I take myself into the back room and beat some sense into me.

Get A Dictionary, Stupid!

One of the most infuriating things I have to put up with is the multitude of people who use the words "retarded" and "retard". Because my brother is, in fact, mentally retarded, and yet is the most generous, kind, sincere and giving soul I know, it is most irksome. Because he, and his fellow "retards" battle every day to dress themselves, care for themselves, help one another, and, in my brother's case, go out into the community doing jobs that make others' lives better. Like the elderly people he helps shop for, or rake yards for. Or the people who visit the college campus where he works on the grounds. He gets his miniscule paycheck and cherishes every hard-earned penny.

And there are lawyers of my acquaintance who drop the "R" bomb every other sentence.

Ask my brother and his fellow mentally-challenged friends twhere to go to look up a word and they'll tell you:

Get a dictionary!

STUPID!

They Ripped My Arms Off and Threw Them Over There!

Ever feel like the Scarecrow after the Wicked Witch's flying monkeys get done with him? When I am being pulled in dozens of different directions by dozens of people who are all blithely oblivious to the fact that HELLO! YES! WORKING AS HARD AS A WOMAN WITH TWO ARMS CAN, that is exactly what I feel like!

Allow me to answer some of those questions I get on a daily basis:

NO - those mental telepathy courses haven't paid off yet and so you WILL have to spell out those urgent requests that I get grief for not having followed through on when I didn't know I was supposed to do something in the first place!

NO - I didn't finish ALL of the assignments I was given that, on his best day, would have Hercules babbling and begging! And the concept that everything has a priority, and that priority is FIRST? WRONG! Multi-tasking doesn't mean cloning myself so I can do everything, for everyone, all at once.

NO - I haven't been able to survive without eating and yes, indeed, I will need to take that lunch hour!

NO - See above re: sleep.

NO - I will not give up my personal life. It's pitiful, sure, but it's MY LIFE.

I'm notorious for being the poster girl for "can't say no". In my next life (and yes I believe in reincarnation because hell, I deserve a real humdinger of a great life next time after this!), I'm going to be a woman of few words.

And they are all going to be: NO!!!!!!!!!!!

Go Green, Or Else

I'm not asking a lot, really. I'm not asking that folks all re-design their homes with solar panels or wind machines in the back yard to power their wide-screen TVs (though that isn't a bad idea - maybe they can package the two together).

What I am asking is pretty simple, really. And the only people who don't do it are stupid and lazy. And rude and inconsiderate and we should take it out of their wallets when prices go up on our stuff!

One. Park in a freaking parking space at a store, and DON'T leave your engine running. Especially, particularly, if you are driving a big honking SUV. Sports Utility Vehicles should not be sold to any individual who can't or won't walk a brisk block. If they are such slugs that they have to park RIGHT IN FRONT OF THE SUPERMARKET ENTRANCE then they can't have the car. Make them drive VW bugs - it'll make them humble

Besides, I park wherever I find a spot even if I do have to walk a few hundred feet (for crying out loud you are going inside a store where you are going to, HELLO, walk around!!!!!!). I don't drive around for an hour looking for the closest spot. I just park it.

And a side point, I have a handicapped tag in the car because it is my Mom's. She's handicapped. She uses the tag. I AM NOT AND I DON'T USE IT. If you are one of those millions of people who got a tag because your left eye twitches when the moon is full GIVE IT UP. If you use the tag that belongs to your great uncle Milt who limps because he's got a pin in his hip from fighting the Japs on Iwo, then STOP IT.

It isn't a "Lazy Person Tag", its a handicapped person tag. Nuff said.

But back to my main rant.

Be green, OK? Instead of idling that mother Hummer in front of the Stop and Shop, park it. And walk a few feet.

THEN, when you get to the check out line, do not double-plastic bag your groceries. Do not even single plastic bag them. Collect the freaking recyclable bags that they sell everywhere for 89 cents or 99 cents and USE THEM.

Do you really think you are so important, so busy, that using them, refolding them and storing them until your next shopping trip, is simply too much time taken from your vital activities? You aren't, so get over it.

And last, but not least, use a little muscle, folks.

Got leaves? RAKE THE LITTLE SUCKERS UP. You can even have a compost heap and not stuff them in plastic bags, but let them decompose and use them as humus for your garden. It's GOOD for the earth, OK?

And don't hire the little lawn locusts with their un-regulated leaf blowers that blow leaves, detritis and small children all over the place (like into my yard). Make them rake and bag for cripes' sake.

Got snow? How about a shovel, dude? Instead of your snow blowing ear-drum blowing machine, heft a shovel and burn some calories.

I guarantee you that gut will thank you. So will your blood pressure.

C'mon, people. Being green isn't easy. It's REALLY EASY.

Do it or Mother Nature will make you very sorry.

Can you say drought? Hurricane season? Floods? Heat wave?

Face the facts, OK?

Times are tough. I thought I'd spread the news in case you have been hibernating for, oh, the last six months. (I'd say 8 years, but I think that's gotten across.)

The economy tanked. All over the world folks are thanking us, again, for leading the way. AIG guys got the first $$$$ and took a nice trip. Automakers flew (economy? nah!) to a meeting in DC to beg for cash. The NY financial bigwigs are taking bonuses and getting golden parachutes, with which they are bailing on the industry they have totally fucked over.

And who's paying the price? Oh, why, you and I, of course. But at this point it is all water under the bridge. What we need to do now is fortify that freaking dam so the next time there's a fiscal high-water problem, it doesn't spring a leak the size of Arnold Schwarzenegger (can't spell the name, not gonna try).

We're in for a tightening of the proverbial belt and I wish folks would just get over it.

Today's headlines here in the Big Old Apple are all about Governor Patterson being a "Grinch", asking for taxation of all those necessities - beer, music for our iPods, etc. C'mon. I'm a Bud Lite girl myself, but I'm fully prepared to have to pull a few extra bucks out of my wallet if I have to in order to enjoy my favorite beverage. Because times are uber tough and our State is in financial difficulty just like the rest of the country.

Sure, my Mom gets a Star tax exemption and those may well be a thing of the past. Not fun.

But we are a Democracy. We run on the wheels of taxpayers' money. That's how it has been, that's how it has always been. Have people forgotten this?

I heard someone say during the height of the bailout talks, "And they're going to use my tax dollars to pay for this!".

Well, shit, Sherlock, of course they are. JUST LIKE THEY USE YOUR TAX DOLLARS TO PAY FOR EVERY SINGLE THING!

From Bush's golf trips and Cheney's Halliburton buddies' windfalls to the war in Iraq and the contaminated FEMA trailers. We foot the bill for EVERYTHING.

So that is why you might want to consider this when casting your vote, whether it is for a local alderman, a DA, a State congressman or a Commander in Chief.
That's why the country bellied up to the voting booths this year and made it a CHANGE WE CAN BELIEVE IN. Because it isn't just about your rights, it is about your wallet. Pick the guy you believe will spend YOUR MONEY wisely.

But for now we have to bite the bullet and pull ourselves out of the muck, we're gonna have to pay for the cleaners ourselves. Just like always.

So stop whining. If we want social services, if we want our State operation to keep running, so our lives can be as normal as possible, and so that our fellow citizens suffer as little as possible, we're gonna have to just deal.

And then remember it when the next group starts getting too rich, too quick, and we aren't seeing the benefits trickling anywhere but up.

No one paid attention when the going was good and now that it's gotten tough, everyone's placing the blame.

Pay attention from here on out and maybe it won't hurt so much next time.

Not A Hard Concept, Folks

What does this sign mean? Easy question, right? Apparently not. APPARENTLY, many, many people think this sign is the acronym for "Slight Tap on Pedal".

No, ASS HOLES, it means STOP - as in come to a complete rest, all motion ceased, your car no LONGER MOVING, the opposite of GO.

Every morning - and evening - I risk my life trying to cross at 3 and 4 way intersections with prominently placed STOP signs, all of which are utterly ignored as folks (usually the jerkwads are on cell phones, too, also an illegal bit of business) zip right on through. Occassionally a momentary slowing (from 40 in a 30 mph zone to oh, say, 39?) before hitting the gas.

This morning I was nearly run down by a cop who also, apparently, didn't recognize the old red octagon for what it means.

I hate these people.

No, really, I do.

People on a cell phone, in a car packed with kids, don't stop at a STOP sign and nearly run over pedestrians. And did it ever occur to them that a big old semi bearing down on them may actually EXPECT them to stop, and when they don't?

Squashed kids.

Please. When you see the red sign with the white letters, do what it says. STOP.

The kid you save may be your own. Or, at the very least, the bumper. Like the one I saw lying on the side of the road this morning.

And you won't have me flipping you the bird in the rear view mirror.

I Do Not Suffer Fools Gladly

OK, this is the first time, but it by Goddess won't be the last time, you see me write this: I hate stupid people. I mean the willfully ignorant. The people who are dumb and proud of it. Those folks who sneer at people carrying books or people who have a reading level higher than the average US newspaper (average newspaper grade reading level - 8th). Anyone who avoids knowledge or learning like the plague (FYI, I'm talking bubonic plague, Yersinia pestis, the Black Death here) and then goes out and blithely passes on their ignorance like a mental STD, making life for the rest of us that much more annoying.

What do I mean by stupid? In short, people who have an opinion about everything, but know nothing. Sharing, ad nauseam, oodles of information that is just wrong, wrong, wrong. And then cheer and encourage as all the other stupid people pick up on it and believe it and spread it around like herpes.

Let me state for the record, for example: Just because you read something in a book or a newspaper or the National Enquirer, doesn't make it so. Period. Writers make mistakes just like, say, politicians (don't worry, they'll get their own Rant). Sometimes they even, GASP, LIE outright. You might have to read a few of them (horrors!) in order to get the full poop. You might have to reason. Deliberate. Weigh the information. Certainly it could be tough, but the grey matter between your ears (I'm being generous and assuming you have some) will atrophy if you don't give it a workout. But in point of fact books can be a really big help in learning stuff. Dictionaries, encyclopedias, stuff like that. (For example, you might learn the difference between lying prostrate on the floor and your prostate lying on the floor. Ouch!)

But if you have no desire to learn, no willingness to clutter up your consciousness with intelligence and knowledge (versus the names of every season's winner of Survivor or American Idol), please, do me a favor. Zip it. Don't share your ignorance with me, or with the dozens of cerebral sponges in my immediate vicinity. Particularly because several of them will be just like you and they'll take what you say as the gospel and then they'll repeat it to ten of their dumb ass friends and so on and so on. Before you know it we're awash in a sea of idiocy and given the cumulative national IQ probably in a rowboat with only one oar. (Average US IQ is 98, giving the country a ranking of 46th in the world. Source - IQ and the Wealth of Nations,Lynn/Vanhanen 2002)

You can help stamp out stupidity. Consider it like a charity that doesn't cost you anything. If someone asks you a question, say, does the planet Earth revolve around the sun or vice versa? You don't know, but figure, hey, I've got a 50-50 shot of being right, right? DON'T ANSWER. Just change the conversation. Say something like, "Hey how about those Yankees?" or "Did you hear what Imus said this morning?" But if, when confronted with this question, you suddenly find yourself overwhelmed with curiousity, why not stop by your local public library - I'm sure they love to see mental virgins, I mean, the intellectually pure, wander in - and look it the fuck up. Don't just cruelly vomit out your ignorance, awing those poor tabula rasa masses with your blatantly false "knowledge". (According to Ben Smith's Politico blog, 18 % of Americans do, in fact, think that the big old yellow blob revolves around us.)

I value knowledge. I like people who like to learn new things. I take nothing away from someone who tries to improve themselves. That very desire is what separates the merely untutored from the massively stupid.

So the next time you are thinking of holding forth on how the internal combustion engine works, or the chemical makeup of plutonium, or the complexity of the symbolism in Dante's Inferno, do the world a favor. Stop. Stifle that impulse. Even be courageous and admit you don't know. And then pick up a book, go to the library, watch the Discovery channel. Learn something. Learn anything. Who knows, you may find out you really like knowing stuff.

THEN speak up. You'll make the world a smarter place.

Yes, I'm A Tree hugger and Proud of It

I love trees. Not only are they beautiful to look at, but especially in suburbia (or, as I like to call my little town, "mall land") they serve several other purposes. First, the offer shade and cooling during hot summers, which cuts down on the need for AC, thus saving electricity, which saves money, which also eases the burden on that old grid thing that crashed in 2003, and it saves on pollution because I'm not shooting whatever it is that AC machines shoot into the air which destroys the ozone and lets the sun in and destroys the planet. You know, the one we ALL LIVE ON? Then, trees also buffer the noise, which, at my particular abode, consists of screaming mutant children, loud parties, domestic disputes, and the unceasing roar of Old Country Road (all the folk unlike myself who pride themselves on their ability to visit every shopping mall within a 250 mile radius of their homes drive by MY HOUSE every weekend).

I have lots of trees. They provide food and shelter for wildlife. Bees and butterflies, squirrels and birds and the odd raccoon that hangs around in the Bradford Pear outside my window, sending my kitty cat into a paroxysm of agitation. I love to sit under them and read. Or write. Or just cogitate.

Life would be perfect in my green yard, filled with gardens and shade and the life that springs from roots.

But then there are my neighbors.

Apparently they stem from a line of humans who are out to decimate, destroy, and delight in the death of every living thing, but trees are their first target.

The presence of dead leaves on their lawns necessitates actual physical labor to remove them. And since that is so onerous (heaven forbid they move their lard-asses off their sofas and away from their wide-screen TVs to put their flabby bodies into some semblance of MOTION) they have taken on Mother Nature and simply hired obscenely expensive tree services to chop those suckers down. Oaks. Maples. Sycamores. Pines. Beech. Sweetgum. You name it, it's been chopped, shredded and mulched somewhere in sight of my house.

I've retaliated by planting a new tree, or allowing a sapling that has planted itself to flourish. It's beginning to look a tad like the forest primeval around my property, but that's going to be that.

Then along come some new neighbors. They swore they liked green. The loved the healthy hedge. But of course they LIED like the rat bastards they apparently are (a dysfunctional family with homicidal children lived there before they were foreclosed on - apparently something in the house draws miserable human beings to live there). They chopped down the hedges. A couple of small maple trees. But they left the grand old sycamore, a twin to the one in my yard, whose branches overhang more of my property than their's.

BUT. They decided a lovely circular brick design thingamabob would look GREAT circling the tree. SO they hired some little immigrant laborers to dig down 10 inches. That was bad enough, they damaged and exposed the roots of the tree. But then I come home and what have they done?

CHOPPED ALL THE ROOTS LOOSE AND CUT THEM OFF!!!!! The tree is now ROOTLESS in a 360 degree circle around its base.

What does this mean for the tree?

Why, DEATH, of course.

Fuckers.