Monday, December 29, 2008

Thank You. Here's my Nice List




Well, it's my first day off since Christmas. I can't wait to get out of 2008. 2007 was a cakewalk compared to this year.

Since everyone is basically going over who's been great and who hasn't on the news/magazines/talk shows, I've got my own list.

These have been compiled in random order, but you are not random in my heart.

Thank you Meg for constant support, funny cards, and great emails. Pisces never forget, and you are a beacon of light to us, the Fellowship of Misunderstood Fish. Many fins and happy swims to you!

Thank you Kjou for allowing me to rant, granting me hours-long convos about race, religion, stupidity, music, food, Obama, and the state of the stupidity around me. You will be blessed in many ways for your generosity and spirit. Your gift awaits, and Spice Curls soap is now sold out!

Thank you Roxlander for all the silliness, cut-outs, cartoons, wacky email jokes, and rambling messages as I move into the new year. It's going to get better. Keep the surprise scrapbook cutouts coming. I love 'em!

Thank you Mom for finally coming to your senses and realizing that this here child of your's has finally grown past the age of four. While I will still let you buy me froggy, dog, and kitty pajamas, I've got a real set of problems that keeps on growing. Let's stem that growth and make 2009 a year of gain, not loss.

Thank you Bootsy for taking my late-night phone calls, supplying me with Metrocards and telling me the real deal when I know that I'm surrounded with some talented liars and your basic set of used-car salesman parading as people in power. I'm grateful that out of the dust we found each other. Here's to brushing it all off and shining bright, both of us feeling new and polished.

Thank you Biz and Maroon for making my days better at LUSH, not only for giving me the job, but a place that I've come to know and love. Let the sorority sisters be damned! Bring that Xfiles playlist back in, it was really great.

Thank you St. Vincent de Paul and Bay Ridge Life Center for giving me food, filling my cabinets, and allowing me $25 to buy milk and bread since this wonderful city of mine cut me off from necessary services. You are literally keeping me alive. I never knew it was this bad until I saw other people my age and a bit older going through the same thing.

Please, universe, if you are listening, zap that karma back down to the powers that screwed this all up. Take away the greed, the selfishness, and the deregulation that caused this mess and bring us all jobs and a way to survive happily again, not just hand to mouth.

Saturday, December 20, 2008

Sixteen Candles...



Dexter turned 16 yesterday. I can't believe I've had this cat this long. He's lost a bit of weight, he's lost his little teeth and he moves slower, but he's still my Boo.

As for me, I'm in full Christmas rush-mode at LUSH. I think if people wake up and realize there's only five days left? They might actually get up and shop. It is tiring, however. I'm working straight thru this week with no days off until Christmas.
No time to see the lights or even enjoy the snow. I get the weird feeling this is going to be my life for a while.

Please pray, kiddies, that I find a full time job where I can sit for a few hours each day.

And thanks, Meg, for that card. You're feeding my kitties for the next 2 weeks! I'm eating peanut butter and jelly and they're eating turkey, chicken, and duck entrees from Fancy Feast.

ciao and meow.....

Thursday, December 11, 2008

Bumbles bounce....back!



What can I say? All is well. Sort of. My credit cards may sue me soon, but my Mac is up and running, some bills got paid, and LUSH is giving me 35-40 hours for the next three weeks. Saves me from having to find another part time spot.

I chose to forego a Charlie Brown tree, and instead put up my trusty tabletop. I also decorated my door. At 1 in the morning. With carols blasting from my tv set (it plays cds) since my other cd player died. Thanks, JVC!

Full fibro attack today, though--we went from 17 degrees on Monday to 63????? today. WTF?

I've also started taking photos from the neighborhood regarding the Christmas lights. They went up pretty early this year, another sign that people just want to get the hell out of 2008. Here's a sampler.



Yes, they're Italian. How'd you guess? Con Ed sends Dyker Heights a case of champagne every year. Carbon footprints be damned!

More pics later this week, so stay tuned!

Tuesday, December 2, 2008

My New Best Friend



Yup, that's how broke I am. Mom's golf cart died, so it's off to fixing. I'm down to $15 on my METROCARD, no cash. I get paid next week. Christmas is not looking good. But the big jar of Skippy? It's keeping me alive. I have rice, soup, cat food. My fuzzers will NOT starve even if I have to eat peanut butter. Hey, it's protein. It's fun. I have saltine crackers. I will survive.

My cable and whatnot is being turned on next week, my computer should be up and running, and I can list my ebay stuff from home to my heart's content. I will survive!

Roxlander and Kjou, I'm ok. I just panicked because I had no turkey this year, I had a burger.

This is not a recession, this is a depression. At least the idiots at Ford are taking a $1 salary. That's truly...and I mean TRULY...more money than I have in my wallet right now.

Sigh....

Friday, November 28, 2008

Happy Post Turkey

Woooeeeee.....busy, but not too busy. Doesn't look like Black Friday out there. Doesn't even look like Black Annis (I met a guy in a kilt today, shoot me.)

Obama went and passed out food with his family. Bush sent out Hannukah invitations with Christmas trees on them, and I nearly....passed out. Yes, google it. You will see how stupid this monkey really is. And I like monkeys.

LUSH is giving me hours. I might actually have my Mac up and running again very soon. Until then? It's computering at the library, which is kinda nice. I like books. I have to find a way to work with them again.

A special "hello" to Cosmic, Kjou, and Roxxlander. I've been soooo busy lately. But that's good. I'll have more dirt tomorrow so stay tuned!

Oh, and Dexter will be 16 in one month. Poor guy's lost his front teeth. Do they make dentures for cats?

Thursday, November 20, 2008

Clive, you were the best ever...

Well, my cable's off, so I'm at the library. Today was the day I dreaded. Clive Barnes, dance critic extraordinaire, has passed away. 81. A good life. His last review was in October. For ABT, of course.

This man made me believe that critics have a function beyond bitching and moaning. I also realize I've been reading his words (courtesy of the NY Post, thanks DAD!) since 1977. The height of my beloved Gelsey's fame.

Sigh...this is too much. I knew he wouldn't last forever. He was diagnosed with liver cancer. My question now is who will take his place?

Deborah Jowitt? Tobi Tobias? Lou Lemenick is a bastard. Jennifer Dunning (no, she's not a whore, Meg LOL) maybe. Jamie Bernard? She's movies, not theater. Frank Rich is writing for the NY Times now. ARRRGGGHHH who will it be?

I couldn't even find a decent picture...maybe later.

I'm off to work at LUSH tomorrow. Hey, it's work. It's bath products, but work.

But Clive won't be sitting in the aisle at Nutcracker in 2 weeks. Rats.

Just get me to the inauguration and get me a full time job. That's really all I want for Christmas this year.

Ick. Bleah. Is Clement Crisp still alive?

Sunday, November 9, 2008

Taking It All In



What a week. What an event. In my lifetime. Wow.

I can't describe the actual shock and amazement of having an actual ADULT in the White House. I'm....speechless. Stunned. This country pulled its head out of its ass. We grew up. This is no longer frathouse pranks with politics thrown in.

But now, the growing up must continue. Where do I begin? Here's a vignette to sum it all up.

Back in 2000 when bush (I call him 'shrub') was elected, we were given those piddly little surplus checks from Bill Clinton's hard work of balancing the budget. I got $200. I was sitting in my apartment, going through the mail and I opened the envelope. $200. What the HELL was I going to do with such a small amount? Pay bills, obviously. A frightening thought popped into my mind. My inner voice always knows. "I'm going to pay for this later. In a big way." Tiny thought, small moment, but oh, was I right.

And what am I paying for? A combination of carelessness, sociopathy, bad choices, one-sidedness, greed, corruption, right-wing God-mongering, and a general disdain for the working class and the poor.

Let me sum it up from a stream of consciousness. Whatever comes to mind I will type. Furiously.

My Pet Goat. 9/11. NYC being promised $22 million in funds we've yet to see. This caused the property tax hike, Bloomberg to win (because of Giuliani's endorsement, Mark Green shoulda been mayor), and taxes, taxes, taxes. NYC is now the second most expensive place to live behind San Francisco. Harriet Miers, Rumsfeld, Afghanistan, Bin Laden still on the loose, Operation Shock and Awe, rewriting bankruptcy laws, taking away worker's overtime (which is why AP abused me so), banning stem cell research, Katrina, misunderestimating strategery, No Child Left Behind, Compassionate conservatives (NOT!) and almost 2? 3? 4? million jobs lost over the last 7.5 years or so since shrub took office.

Not to mention the bailout, our new TRILLION dollar deficit, China, India, and Bangladesh getting our jobs, the death of the middle class, the poor falling into poverty, the destitute falling into the pit, the pit being covered with the dirt and ashes of those burned horribly by the rules, the ideology and the factions of power elite that feel fit and suited to sneer at the rest of us like myself.

What I have learned in these last 8 years is that fish rot from the head down. I see a subtle reduction in values that translates into megalomaniacs jumping on the bandwagon and making these tiny things bigger, bolder, and more violent, more reactionary for those who choose not to see. What do I mean?

If we have a president that sneers at the poor and only cares about money and power, those that stand in line next to him feel justified. They run for office, hypnotize those around them, and get voted in based on promises, glamour and flat-out lies. True values will never make anyone feel overtly happy or completely safe. Why? An examination of one's conscience requires a degree of vulnerability, an admission of weakness, things that may go wrong, an imperfection that may have to stand. It requires that all will not agree with the choice between what is right and what is easy. It may not be popular, and it might not taste good going down, but it is medicine. For the conscience, for the public, for the policies, and for the soul.

We've got a lot to swallow now that an adult stands before us. Not an elite, but a person who dealt with racism, food stamps, an identity crisis, and people doubting he could do and be what he says he is. Sounds like a lot of us, huh?

Do we count? Do we matter? Who's going to save us? My god, Barack, you have so much on your plate. So many mistakes to fix, so much mess and blood to wade through.

But you will do it. And we will, too. We have to.

One of the moments I knew that I would not vote for Hillary was when Obama stated, "Just when did selfishness become a virtue in this country?" How many times have I asked that myself? This is not socialism, communism. This is what everyone should be doing for other people: caring, sharing, giving a damn. For all my love of the occult and my pagan Celtic roots, I never forget that I come from the church. Every Sunday, every Christmas, every Easter. Without fail. Jesus was not a warmongering gun-nut. He did not kill with glee. He did not judge with hatred. His lessons were not violent, his compassion was not one-sided.

I am only a cynic because I see what could be. I see what people don't do, don't say. I abhor selfishness, greed. I loathe narcissism, cruelty. I have only cultivated an understanding of these things (and at times, acted as such) because I HAD TO. One's choices are greatly affected by the circumstances around them. And to not have a choice...that is the greatest pain, the deepest sorrow. The loss of belief, hope, anticipation. Let this all be over. Let this water be under the bridge, calm and cool.

We've got a lot of work to do. It's not just the government that needs saving, it is also ourselves. Time to grow up, kiddies. The work begins. Immediately.

Thursday, November 6, 2008

I'm Still Taking It All In




"Rosa sat so Martin could walk. Martin walked so Barack could run. Barack ran so our children can fly!"

More thoughts later. I'm still over the moon about this whole thing. My country finally grew up. It's about damn time.

Monday, November 3, 2008

This is Why I'm Voting for Obama



Just to spite this bitch.

Republicans have truly joined the lunatic fringe. I remember when they were just square conservatives who wore ties and argyle socks with everything. Now? THESE PEOPLE ARE GROWING OUT OF THE GROUND. THEY'RE FUCKING CRAZY AND I'M AFRAID.

I'll be happily traipsing over to my voting station tomorrow morning with a baby snickers in my mouth. Just because.

Friday, October 31, 2008

Remember the Truth




Thank Goddess Ireland saw fit to only murder 7 people during the Burning Times. In addition, there was actual proof. The rest of Europe had a field day killing women, the mentally ill, the disfigured, the unliked or anyone else that got in some church dogma's way. Remember the true origins of hysteria today when you see a black cat or a cone-shaped hat on a girl with green makeup. Then, get the snickers out for the kiddies.

Pardon The Witches

And it's NOT pronounced SAM HAYNE, it's SOW (as in pig) INN. It's the Ogham (Oh Hamm) alphabet. Look it up!

Tuesday, October 28, 2008

Why Not Level the Playing Field?




Socialism: The Giant Awakens by Mary Scott O'Connor, courtesy of My Left Wing

"Whenever I hear the old joke, "He was born on third base but thinks he hit a triple," I cringe a little, because I immediately think of the inverse -- of the millions of people who are born with two strikes against them.

Lately I cringe when I hear the ludicrous charge being leveled against Barack Obama: that he intends to apply socialist policies in the United States. The charge is ludicrous because he does not intend such a thing -- not because socialism is ludicrous. To the contrary.

Here is another thing that makes me cringe:

"In America, if you have the brains and the talent and are willing to work as hard as it takes, you can make it to the top."

Well, yes; the operative word in that oft-repeated maxim is "can." But you can have a top-class brain and a top-class talent and work yourself to the bone and still go to the grave with nothing in this country... if you happen to have been born with two strikes against you.

That is to say: You can have the brains and the talent and all the drive imaginable, and end up at a dead end because you got pregnant at 16 when abortion was illegal or unavailable... and find yourself in your mid-thirties a cashier at Sears, bone-tired with three kids at night, answering all the "Jeopardy" questions, wondering how the hell you ended up single and miserable and resenting these kids you love.

You can be brilliant and gifted and work yourself silly to save money to transfer from community college to the Ivy League school that accepted you -- but because you were unlucky enough to be born into a bad neighbourhood you will never get to that hallowed school and instead be shot dead, collateral damage in a turf war drive-by shooting, itself the product of the sociological result of the grinding poverty produced by decades of racial and societal design.

Worse: Born with two strikes, you wind up before the pitch, you take a huge swing -- you miss, and you end up, at 17, in prison. And you spend the rest of your life going through a societally designed revolving door in that prison. You may have made that "first strike," but the odds were against you from the beginning. You never had a chance. And you're not alone. Watch MSNBC's "Lock Up: Raw" sometimes. Look at the faces on that show. Ever notice anything? Check out American prison statistics against American census numbers. The ratio of the American population as a whole to African-Americans in prison is grotesque. This is not accidental. Nor are African-Americans hard-wired to commit crimes. And people who dismiss slavery as having happened "200 years ago" and African-Americans and "liberal guilt" as "blaming everything on something that happened 200 years ago" had better check up on their MUCH more recent history.

See, brains and talent and hard work don't mean a thing when you aren't to the manour born in America; not unless you step into at least a tiny little bit of luck to go with it. And that shouldn't have to be the American Way.

And that's why the reflexively negative response to socialism angers me so much. Just what is so wrong with a level playing field? For that, after all, is what socialism is. A recent interviewer actually quoted Karl Marx's maxim derisively to Joe Biden: "From each according to his ability, to each according to his needs" (as if it were the sum total of Marx's philosophy). It is, however, a good beginning -- and that is, actually, what America desperately needs.

A level playing field, indeed. Imagine an America in which everyone begins life on home base, with no balls and no strikes. Or, to use a clearer analogy -- on a level field, rather than some on a mountaintop and some in a ditch. Simple, really: Healthcare for all, food and shelter, education and basic employment -- all basic necessities guaranteed for all. For every other element one might wish, one would simply have to... work hard. To compete in a truly free market, unemcumbered by hunger, by the disabilities of race, family circumstances, "who you know." One's merits would truly be the yardstick by which accomplishments, achievements and advancements would be measured. THAT... is socialism.

Now, WHO could feel threatened by THAT?

I'll tell you who: The TRUE elitists in this VERY unlevel playing field on which we all stumble and on which we've been playing, blindfolded, listening to propaganda over their corporate-funded loudspeakers for generations. Propaganda that's told us that "Socialism equals Communism equals Russia equals Stalin equals BAD!

When Americans hear the phrase "socialised Medicine," for instance, for decades we've picture Russian breadlines, as surely as Pavlov's dogs (a Russian scientist -- isn't THAT an irony) drooled when they heard bells ringing. Oh, yes, the moneyed elitist classes of America for generations have done spent their brainwashing dollars well: We, the People, have been cutting off our collective nose to spite our face and cheering jubilantly as we did it.

But a funny thing happened on the way to pay the health insurance bills: We bought computers. Little by little, the proletariat began to learn, picking up bits of information along with "barley legal porn." (It didn't hurt that the older folk began to die off. Sorry, grandpa.) The spectre of Stalin's Communist Russia, truly hideous as it was, began to fade; Communism isn't as easy to use as a completely dishonest conflationary scare tactic with the utterly, totally different Socialism when it's more of a paragraph in a history book than an actual memory.

And lately, we have several decades' worth of examples of wildly successful Socialist nations to refute arguments against Socialist philosophy and economics. Not hideous beasts of governments run amok; rather, governments providing basic necessities and services with fabulous efficiency, NOT meddling in their citizens' private lives... and then getting out of the way. And the citizens' approval ratings of their governments? Through the roof. Their Happiness index? Quality of life? Life expectancy? Through the roof. And ours? Let's just say we're competing with the likes of Bolivia.

So... Maybe Americans are getting... less stupid. Because for one thing, they're not buying the "Barack is a Socialist" garbage. And for another, they seem to recognise Socialism when they see it (See: $700 billion bailout for the financial system and using taxpayer money to do it)... and they seem, by all known polling systems, to think it would be a REALLY good idea to start doing some MORE of it -- where it counts: say, healthcare, education, green infrastructure...

SO WAKE THE FUCK UP, Washington and Corporate Elites. The Sleeping Giant is stirring. "

(is it really so bad? for the uber-privileged, maybe.)

Monday, October 27, 2008

One Week and One Day!



Normally, I wouldn't go so far out there to endorse a candidate, but after checking McCain's voting record on actual soldiers? I can tell you it sucks to be a returning vet in Arizona. For someone who prides himself on the military record he hawks with so-called humility? What he's done is the exact opposite.

We are in dangerous times. Do I think Obama has every single answer? No. But I do think he will surround himself with positive people of intelligence, critical thought, and purpose. Competence, and not loyalty, will be the hallmark of his presidency if he gets in. Shrub (bush) believes just the opposite. Look where that's gotten us.

And as for Governor Avon Lady? She's a female bush: right-wing, fundienut, exclusive, chases the party line every time to the detriment of the greater good.

McCain's camp is getting desperate. The Smirking Chimp, one of my favorite left-wing websites, posted a four minute video of what has happened recently at McCain rallies. The ignorance, racism and selfishness is just so hard to watch. Haven't we had enough divisiveness? Eight years is ENOUGH.

In other news, I'm so far behind in my bills, I'm considering bankruptcy. It's not easy, but I am talking to someone so that I know my rights. It's huge, but I am afraid it's all I have. Scary indeed.

Where are the jobs? Where is my country? What is my future? I hope to God November 4 will lead me to answers, if not new choices.

Saturday, October 18, 2008

A Nice Thought for the Week of October 16th-21st



In medieval Europe, more resources and human ingenuity were lavished upon cathedrals and churches than on any other buildings. In the last hundred years, the emphasis has been different, having switched to the towering structures that house institutions dedicated to commerce. By that measure, Money is a far more important God than God. During the next few weeks, Pisces, I invite you to buck the modern trend. As an experiment, see if you can devote at least one more percent of your energy and intelligence to matters of the spirit and soul than to the demands of the material realm. I suspect you'll find, ironically, that this will lead to an increase of your mastery over the material realm.

Ponder that. I love Rob Breszny.

Friday, October 10, 2008

73



I
The Owl and the Pussy-cat went to sea
In a beautiful pea green boat,
They took some honey, and plenty of money,
Wrapped up in a five pound note.
The Owl looked up to the stars above,
And sang to a small guitar,
'O lovely Pussy! O Pussy my love,
What a beautiful Pussy you are,
You are,
You are!
What a beautiful Pussy you are!'

II
Pussy said to the Owl, 'You elegant fowl!
How charmingly sweet you sing!
O let us be married! too long we have tarried:
But what shall we do for a ring?'
They sailed away, for a year and a day,
To the land where the Bong-tree grows
And there in a wood a Piggy-wig stood
With a ring at the end of his nose,
His nose,
His nose,
With a ring at the end of his nose.

III
'Dear pig, are you willing to sell for one shilling
Your ring?'Said the Piggy,'I will.'
So they took it away, and were married next day
By the Turkey who lives on the hill.
They dined on mince, and slices of quince,
Which they ate with a runcible spoon;
And hand in hand, on the edge of the sand,
They danced by the light of the moon,
The moon,
The moon,
They danced by the light of the moon.

Edward Lear, 1871

One of dad's favorite poems. He loved owls and I loved cats. I realized that a few years back so this poem has a different significance. Funny what you remember.

Thursday, October 9, 2008

Spending Like Drunken Sailors



Well, well...how's this for good ole fashioned American values? SPEND, SPEND, SPEND and screw responsibility. The National Debt clock located on 44th Street near 6th Avenue has had to remove the dollar sign to put in another number! And isn't this sweet? The Durst family, who own the clock, are putting in two more digits to accomodate the possibilty...NO...the EVENTUALITY (if that's even a word) of QUADRILLIONS OF DOLLARS OF DEBT.

And people say this is the greatest country in the world? You've GOT TO BE FUCKING JOKING.

My blogs have been short and shorter lately because I barely contain my rage at how far this country has fallen. The corporate culture makes me sick, and I know they won't pay anyone but themselves, which has put a chip on the shoulder of my job hunt. I can barely hold myself still at having to answer, "Tell me about yourself" at job interviews.

I should have become a bartender because it seems all the bars I pass are packed to the gills lately. Why? People either hate the jobs they're in, just got fired from their jobs, or they're trying to figure out how they're going to pay for gas, milk, rent, cars, and tuition on the crappy salaries they get from these jobs.

Since NYC always turns around last, we could be sitting in our own poisoned diaper until fall 2009. And if I hear about one more corporate CEO asshole who hid millions while trying to cover his company's ass, I might just commit murder. My oh-so-famous temper is on red alert lately. I like to tell people I have road rage without actually having a car. Some laugh, some nod, some...and this scares the hell outta me...actually AGREE. Now that's pretty frightening, kiddies.

3 1/2 weeks to go until this election....God/Goddess help us all!

Saturday, October 4, 2008

VP? This Is What They Want You to Think...



I mean do these assholes really think we're going to take her seriously?

Gosh, darnit (and wink wink), I sure as hell DON'T.

The bar has been lowered. To the floor.

I love photoshop, don't you?

LMAOOOOOO

Thursday, September 25, 2008

Normally, I'm a Batman kinda Girl, but....



And if he shows up for the debate tomorrow and McCain ain't there? FINE.

WE'LL HAVE 90 MINUTES OF A PURE TOWN HALL FORUM BROADCASTED ON EVERY STATION.

90 minutes of this guy is NEVER a bad thing.

It's called 'winning', kiddies. Get used to it, Repugnicons!

Tuesday, September 23, 2008

A Bear Market? That's Just BULL!



Well, this whole bailout mess has gotten me SICK. This is socialism for the rich. Do the taxpayers get anything out of this? I doubt it. McCain and his lackey flipflopped on deregulation, which is hilarious since Phil Gramm is on his campaign panel. That's like putting a panel of foxes to guard the henhouse. If a criminal investigation doesn't come out of this? I might just kill someone.

Newsflash, kiddies: this bailout might not prevent another prolonged recession (translation: middle-class fuckover i.e. DEPRESSION PART II) from kicking us, the working poor in the ass. Oh, that's right. I'm selling shit on eBay since I can't get an HR rep to call me back. I just got a turnoff notice on my ConEd bill. Let's see where the money's going to come from this time.

Jesus Christ, it's getting worse! How stupid do people have to be....no, they ARE...in order not to understand or even WANT to understand how absolutely insane this is? The United States will become a Third World country if China and Japan take over all of this country's debt. They are holding 47% of the debt now, and Shrub (bush, I can't even capitalize his name anymore) just wants to borrow more. Our troops are costing $1 billion per month and no one seems to want them to come home. We've got the possibility of this racist country full of ignorance inviting McCain and Princess Bouffant to take over by default simply because no one wants a black man to run anything. Fuck you, you dumb assholes, and the KKK while you're at it--he's bi-racial!!! For the last goddamn time, he's bi-racial! His mom was as pale as I am!!!! He's intelligent, articulate, and would choose an excellent cabinet to help him with his lack of experience!!! Shrub didn't have any experience and he's run us into the ground!

What country am I living in? I have no idea what's up with my eviction since 20--YES, YOU READ THAT CORRECTLY--20 other families in this building all can't pay their rent. I got the damn city to give me the back rent, but I'm still behind by 2 months. They sent the lease anyway. I guess they know I have rights should they drag my broke ass to court. I LIVE IN A BUILDING WITH LESS THAN 50 UNITS, THAT'S ALMOST HALF OF US!

I wouldn't know what to do with a check that even resembled what I used to get. And even that wasn't enough to live on!

All of this is going to damage the dollar. This country is going to turn into the former Soviet Union. The super-rich and the have-nothings.

I hope to god I'm not one of them.

And yet, I can't pull myself away from the tv. What the hell am I supposed to do now....yikes, this is SCARY!!!!

Friday, September 12, 2008

Losing my Virgin-ity



Well, it's been a week. For those of you I left hanging in the balance, Virgin gave me the "heave ho" last Friday. A strange and weird feeling came over me: ONE OF RELIEF.

I walked in, they were late. I waited, they were still not there. I was taken into a room with four managers. That's a firing squad (no pun intended), or at the least, an intimidation factor. None of this got to me. My leather skin is growing thicker. I was told in less than seven minutes that they had reviewed their decision, and, I quote...

"YOU no longer work here."

Ok. Should I cry now or later? I was not asked to explain my side, I was not asked anything. I believe the awkward silence was given so that I could possibly beg, grovel, or apologize. I did none of the above. As I turned to leave, I saw the little man whose feelings I obviously hurt. I looked right at him and said "hey" as if nothing had transpired. He had an expression of gritting his teeth and quickly turned his eyes from mine. This, and I am certain, was about power and ego. Three people I worked with feel the same way.

Stan, the asshole as I call him, is a hulking pathetic lurk of a man who sees fit to put everyone and anyone in their place. Asshole was demoted many years ago from manager to just a sales associate. He seems to forget this. So, I spoke to him briefly about changing the music, and proceeded to lean quietly since my back was hurting me. Sandy Denton's new book is pretty good. I looked up a name of someone who I thought I knew. I think this is the same guy I knew from clubs so many years ago. Then the book got its hooks into me and I began to skim the pages. Quick read and funny. I didn't want to bitch about my fibromyalgia (all of them think it's FIBROIDS, nope! Wrong condition!), but I said nothing. Apparently, saying nothing is not the same as doing nothing. Everyone else seems to get away with doing nothing. I do things, and say nothing, and it got me canned.

What. Ever.

So, off to Macy's I went to buy Mariah's new perfume and it hit me how horrible a situation I was in. I was risking my safety by coming home at 3 am. I was eating in a room filled with overflowing garbage (bacteria) and flies (disease). The bathrooms were usually covered in urine and feces (more bacteria and possibly virii), and the pay was shit. So, what exactly did I lose? Not much.

Now, since I remember my goal was to actually get out by September, I have done just that. They are rumored to shut down in January, and most of them, no matter who buys the space, will not be grandfathered into new jobs. So, I can get a move on on my eBay items and look for a new job. It's good. Mom's gonna help, Kjou's gonna help, Roxlander's gonna help. All of this bullshit in this store was only prolonging the inevitable. And what good is that?

The werewolf picture is from a weird dream I had the other night. I was part of a pack of them. Claws, fur, fangs, the whole nine. Unbelievable. I wasn't afraid. Werewolves have no choice but to change. It is their nature to give into a more aggressive form in order to suit their needs, the biggest being survival. I'll take that as a fabulous little message from my subconscious.

And as for asshole and his little friend, I don't care where they end up. They are like two peas in a pod, as Opera told me. Opera is one of my better associates who warned me about them. A bit late, but it all makes sense. I'm keeping him as a reference.

You live, you learn. Now I'm going to get my claws out. Hee hee hee.....

Friday, September 5, 2008

Judgment Day!


OOh, goody!

Today's the day I get to find out whether Virgin keeps me or not. I got a phone call, jumped out of bed (since I thought it was a job offer) and was told to go in at 5.30. This manager gives off weird vibes just like the other one. Let's see what kind of act I have to put on today.

It's getting harder and harder for me to realize that this is what's going on. The job reports are out and we've hit a 6.1% unemployment rate in this country! So much for my full-time search. I'm still doing the part-time with part-time thingie. It ain't working since I know so many people are competing for the same positions. Scary, scary!

And my hair has gone fully back to its real color since I haven't highlighted it lately. I've got grays coming in, which makes me look like I'm part "skunk". I'd be happier with an all-over "Emmylou Harris" changeover, but maybe that would take time. Oh well.

More to blog about soon! Stay posted!

Saturday, August 30, 2008

Reading is NOT fundamental



Well, leave it to a tense night and a stupid comment to get my ass in hot water. I've been SUSPENDED from Virgin for......no, not stealing....no, not taking merchandise....nope! didn't clean out the register into my pockets....I've been SUSPENDED FOR


(drumroll)


READING A BOOK AT THE REGISTER! TA DA!

Yup, the manager who I can't get a "read" on decides to send me home. People have been getting written up for minor infractions since the place is about to close. Our take on it is that they're pissed off that people have been interviewing (and so have I and five co-workers in the department) and leaving left and right, so "power" must be asserted. I turned around, looked at this guy, asked him to write me up, and then walked away to get a replacement cd for what was playing. I got a bad vibe right then and there, so I wasn't going to stand next to him--this guy gives me the creeps, honestly--and I say I'm going on my 45 minute dinner break. No muss, no fuss, just me slinking away, in pain. As usual. Last night it rained and my back was out. I go into Starbucks...wait, this gets better...and the girl turns around and throws out the newspaper I placed on the table WITH ALL MY MEDICATIONS! I freak, dive into the greasy garbage to retrieve my pills, and dread going back. My intuition was dead-on. I get back, and am told that I'm being sent home until further notice for READING. Nice. Um, no. I'm being sent home because your ego is too sensitive. And when I get quiet, I get reeeaaal quiet. This is unnerving to people, I am told, but since I just received my back rent from the city, still can't pay my bills in full, and was rejected for two more jobs from those being hired internally, I'd say I've got a bit on my mind. This whole thing is an ego thing and a misunderstanding. And now, I'm in limbo. Isn't that nice?

I called my manager this morning and told him how I've seen people be $90 short on their registers, call out constantly, don't do a stitch of work, leave re-stock boxes overflowing, and I get sent home for a book and a comment. Talk about abuse of power. This place is truly evil, and I'm beginning to see it. I love music, I love some of my co-workers, but this is truly ridiculous. What is it with me and three day weekends? I always seem to get fired on them. Oops, I mean suspended. What the fucking fuck as RD used to say....

So, another manager is going to come in, blah, blah, blah, and my fate will be decided. The only thing in my pocket is that September is next week and I might have a wonderful shot at actually finding a decent job. My knowledge of things--including music--could be better served when everyone gets back from their tans, high gas-priced vacations, and barbecues so that HR could get up and make a decision. I'm beginning to truly believe that obedience and ignorance would have won me a job a long time ago. Yet, everyone, and I mean EVERYONE keeps coming to me for ideas, answers, and schemes of how to do this, that, how to make this, that work, and what to do in this, that situation.

God/Goddess help me to find a way to work for myself to deliver me from such utter stupidity. I am sick of being tangled inside people's tiny minds and even pettier situations. I'm tired of it.

Soooo tired of it.

But the bright side? I'm not at work right now, I'm here blogging. For some of you, that's a treat! If you want to send me good wishes and a funny joke or even a cat picture? My email's always open!

And Obama was great. Don't buy into this VP Look I'm a Woman! crap. McCain trying to get Hillary's supporters on a woman who is the complete opposite of what Hill supports is a nasty little trick. Let's hope the voters aren't stupid enough to fall for it.

Ta ta and la la! More news to come when Mr. Manager comes in tonight. Reading a book....that's choice!

Friday, August 15, 2008

Olympic Box-Jumping Results



Well, this isn't one of my cats, but I can't get a camera quick enough to capture Kashi leaping across my desk onto Roxlander's giant box of eBay-able vinyl. Or as the tourists in Virgin might say, "Vehhneeel."

Yes, she's inspired, most likely by the gymnastic coverage that's been on. I'm addicted to beam and bars, as I was when I was a gymnast all those years ago (1981-83.) Damn growth spurt ruined my hands, wrists and ankles. I went back to skating and stuck to dance. Doing three all at once was pretty suicidal, now that I think of it. But there is that "flying" element. Sooo addictive.

Kashi's been sitting by the tv and watching, occasionally tapping, as the gymnasts go by. Men's high bar was fun to watch--she stood on hind legs and tapped the screen as they flew. This cat cracks me up.

No surprise that I saw her leap three feet across the room to get to the top of the box. A giant BOOM and there she is. It's only a matter of time before the boxes cave in underneath the weight of her massive girth, but it's funny!

Let's see if the lunar eclipse affects her snoozing tomorrow night--the window peeks a bit of light right near the top box. She looks like a meatloaf with a tail.

LMAO!

Friday, July 25, 2008

And now for something completely different....

Ahhh...Saturday, my day off. I likey!

Did anyone think I'd leave all that up here to drag and drag?

Puhhhlease. I still know who I am! Some reminders....Enjoy!







Saturday, July 12, 2008

Gratefulness, Deliverance, Protection




Well, she always comes to me when I need it. My dreams have been so prophetic since the beginning of this month. Today I'm going to the beach since I haven't been near her in a long time. Nice letter, too, by the way. I know you're reading this. Waiting.

Your time will come. Let's see who stands up for you. You call me every name you want. I've been called worse by better. I can't stand a sneak. You miserable little girl. So, so damaged. Why didn't I see it? Here's a piece of happiness I found.

My retort will come later. Those of you who have seen the letter are waiting, too. They keep wondering if you actually wrote and edited it. You'll all be very amused.

Invocation to Yemaya


Yenya Orisha obinrin dudukueke re maye mi
re oyu ayaba
ano rigba
iki mi reta gbogbo okin nibe iwo ni
re elewo nitosi
re omo teiba modupue iya mi.

Friday, July 4, 2008

Well, when Meg checks in....

That means I'm not blogging as much as I should be. I will now explain why.

Virgin's got me on a blend of days and nights. This has taken a toll on my sleep schedule, therefore my fibromyalgia has kicked in again. Slightly elevated in terms of pain, not all-out crippled the way I was in 2006 and 2007. Mind you, I have been unable to find another part-time job given my possible eviction, so it's been Legal Aid, phone calls, writing letters, dealing with lawyers. Pro bono, of course, since I don't have a pot to piss in or a window to throw it out of. (Get those Angela's Ashes images out of your heads, kiddies!) Some idiot in my landlord's office did send me a new lease. I find that so funny since I'm going to sign it and stand before a judge to ask, just as Joe Strummer did, "Should I stay or should I go now?"

The roommate situation officially went bust the first weekend of June when, panicked, my mother made a phone call and a critical decision to use plane tickets that she won in a raffle (of all things!) from Jet Blue airlines was made. I had told her of my panic attacks that started again (palpitations, crying jags, etc.) She came up for three days and wanted to meet the person I was living with to discuss just what the hell was going on. She said she needed to see all of this herself and wouldn't take "no" for an answer. Hey, I'm lucky to have a mom that gives this much of a damn about me, and since she's my only living relative left, what am I gonna say, "NO?"

Up she arrives, key and suitcase, kisses my cats, proceeds to clean my kitchen and living room (par for the course--she never touches my bedroom, hasn't since I was about 13) and sat down for a lovely chat with my then-roommate. I was working the night shift. While I don't know exactly what they spoke about, good old Soothsaying Mom (who's ten times witchier and more Irish than I could ever be) told me she got the distinct impression that not only was this person intimidated by me (???), but also by her (!!!). Mom and I look like before and after, quite the startling impression on anyone who's never met both of us at the same time. I look like a younger version of her: hair, weight, eyes, voice and all, and she looks like an older version of me. I have seen my future, and I know damn well it's in my mother's face. That face will one day stare at me in the mirror.

The conversation was something to the point of how this person didn't know how to help me and how her family was never that great to her, but crystal-ball-loving mom suspected something else. She said to me it was as if there was something secretive in the room, the reaction, the words. Almost like a child sitting in the principal's office, having been berated for some snippy deed. She told me this person most likely had a plan to get out and stay out. Mind you, I put myself in a dangerous situation rescuing this person from a psychotic aunt who most likely suffers from bipolar disorder at the most, or histrionic personality disorder at the very least. It could have been me who had a chunk of brick, wood or pipe flung at my head. I asked for a mere $300 to help with my bills. Getting any money out of this person turned out to be an ordeal. (And if she's reading this right now, let me say how betrayed, insulted and hurt I feel. You don't walk out on someone who's literally trying to keep a roof over their head. But! I forgot! I was supposed to be a surrogate mother. Not my job, sweetheart. Not my job.)

What I did see is someone who doesn't want to contribute, can't share, doesn't know what to do, how to act, or what to say. Mom noticed this, as well. "She probably doesn't know any better and feels the need to protect herself at all costs." Well, thanks for stating the obvious, mom, but it sure as shit doesn't make me feel any better. Plus, this person still has my keys, something I do not like, nor trust, at all.

The last email I got from this person was June 26. Let's see if I hear from this person again. Selfish, stubborn, ignorant, and living in her own world. Nope. Not me. Not my thing.

No time to read, eh? Well, if she took the damn headphones out of her head, perhaps a paper or two might fit in there.

No time for the news, eh? No time for TV? Too bad, I'm a CNN junkie. Always will be. In fact, it might have been my influence that got her to register to vote in the first place. I can be a mentor, but I refuse to be a mother. And my ovaries refuse, too. Since they stopped working when I was 25, there's not much that can be done in that department.

More of Mom's soothsaying and in her own words, "Well, she's probably got some bank account with money saved. It's obvious she's got somewhere to go and isn't used to doing anything except what she wants. If she's not back with her own mother, she found someone to live with. Or off of." I forgot that part: good parasites never kill their host. They just take what they need, detach and move on. A fitting analogy.

Well, said, Mom. You may cling to your rosary, but you're still the most loveably witchy woman I've ever met. Should you pass on, I know that power will reside within me. From ancient times, it goes down from one woman to another. Her mother had it in Ireland, gave it to my mom, and she will give it to me. I've got a smidge, but I know I'll get more. Not that I'm ready to say goodbye, Mom and I are becoming better friends after this.

Defections and betrayals. Ah, a common occurence in my life. I will not dumb myself down for sheep. Sheep get slaughtered. I, somehow, will always survive. And escape, if possible.

And that's what's been going on, Meg. Once again, I'm finding out who cares for me and who doesn't.

This person's things are waiting in a box. Should this person not show up, they will be shipped out to her job when I get $$ to do so. Right now, I'm busy eBaying Roxlander's records so we can split what dividends should come of it. He gives a shit about me, too, and makes even less money than I do right now.

So few friends, so few colleagues. Not a time to take, take, take from me. Now I will give to me.

Just prayers are needed, my true friends. Prayers and words of hope. I need you more than ever. The rest of you? Get out, get gone, and stay away. You needed me more than I needed you.

I am not a fool. Don't treat me like one. Never forget my legendary temper. From what I see lately? I've got plenty of reasons to unleash the demon beast. She lurks right under the surface and is very hungry for some playtime.

And that's how I am, Meg! Thanks for giving a damn. You are in my thoughts and prayers. Kiss the doggies and kitties for me.

Thursday, June 12, 2008

It Can Get Worse

As my friend Bootsy says, it can get worse.

I am facing possible eviction. I won't be blogging for a while. Roommate of no help. I am not supposed to save everyone.

Part time sucks. Virgin will be out of business in NY as of 2009, we've been told.

Just not inspired enough to blog. Mercury in retrograde. If this sounds like a MayDay call, it is.

jesus christ...where is my life where has it gone

Friday, May 30, 2008

Salutes, Tributes, Smiles

Well, it wouldn't be right if I don't commemorate a few people who've made a difference in my life. Harvey Korman's gone, dead at 81, and as Mel Brooks put it, "The world is a more serious place." I totally agree.

This week is an anniversary of many deaths, people I loved, people I laughed with, people who understood me. The person, not the persona.

Harvey, have a great time in heaven. You make me want to watch "As the Stomach Turns" right now.

Nancy Pfifferling, one of the spanish teachers in my high school, dead of breast cancer on May 31, 2003. I loved the way you had a mock funeral for the letter "j" every September. Black veil, dirge, white gloves and all. You were one helluva lady.

Harryetta Peterka, hit by a bike messenger on May 28, 1998. I'm sorry we only worked together three weeks and one day. I looked at the clock when you went down that morning and thought a strange thing, "It's 11.20 am. What if that's the last time I see her today?" I truly am psychic, because that was the last time I saw her ever. I've almost been clipped time and time again by speeding bikes in the last decade. I always look up at the sky and say out loud, "Thank you, Harryetta." You were absolutely loved by all. I realized it when Gretchen Ham called the school and asked about you. I had to tell her what happened and she cried horribly over the phone. I had to calm her down from Michigan. I hate phones, I always did. That day was particularly hard. I miss your curls and the tilt of your head when you laughed. It was 21 days, but I remember. So does Meg.

Olive, my sweet kitty. Also taken from mammary cancer on May 31, 2003. You were my pretty girl, gone at age 9. My youngest cat ever. I'm sorry the chemo didn't work. I remember how you cried when I took you into the vet. I was only trying to save you.

And Dear Old Dad. You'll never leave me. Mom called this morning to tell me she dreamt of you and me. I was a baby in the crib and you were smiling, standing over me. Those were the happier moments in your life, before it all went to hell. Bills and problems and rent and such. Real life always got in your way. They found you still and cold at the old New York Post building on the fourth floor, facing the water street side. They thought you were asleep. You were. Forever. I walked by there yesterday, sat on the bench and looked up at those windows. I still wonder exactly what part of the fourth floor you were on. What window? Ray Walsh wouldn't let me in. Now the plant's in the Bronx, that building is a storage facility, and I'll never know. Maybe I don't have to. I'm just torn that I never got to say goodbye properly.

I stand and salute. I loved you all. I'm a little bit lost, a little bit older. Not shocked that the gray is showing in my hair and the unanswered questions in my eyes. It's very hard to look in the mirror and catch your conscience staring back at you. It's happening more often. I'm starting to avoid that mirror.

Goddamn it, there's just never enough time. There's never enough money, but even a clock couldn't save me right now.

I really, really hate the end of May.

Sunday, May 25, 2008

I'm Too Old and Too Expensive. Slow, too

Well, now I shall speak of my firing (the third job in my life, ever) from SuperMac, a place I will never walk into again. And Girly Boy, the wimp who hired me, will have to deal with the consequences.

Let's review. The head chef, really liked me. In fact, he was the one who recommended me. He was the one who got me the job, not the 27-28-29 year old "owner" who is afraid to say he's the owner because (as I was told by other workers) he is insecure about having a business so young. He is also flippant, can't make decisions, can't spell nor remember anyone's name correctly, and basically is rude, thoughtless and a real dick (that word came up at least 10 times in the three weeks that I was there.)

So, I witness three things: 1) he's not letting us have tips from an online service called seamless web. That's illegal. I make mention of it, he immediately has a blank look on his face. 2) I cannot handle 35 lunch customers by myself with the degree of 'finesse' he requires --which is really perfection, a concept that humanly does not exist--and this pisses him off. Meanwhile, there is another worker there who regularly barks orders at people, is defensive, and completely ADHD. But! As long as the work gets done, who cares, right? I realize I am working for Sad Sack and Baldo's younger prodigy. Not pretty, but I need the tips. 3) Everyone and anyone, with the exception of the chef I like, is younger and in the dark about these things.

I get along with the customers, a few mistakes here and there, hey? It's a learning curve, I'll get it.

So, payday comes along, I get "summoned" up to the office, which is a roach-infested, dark storeroom. It looks like a chamber out of a Dickens novel. I get the speech about "If you're not up to speed, I can't keep you. You're older than me anyway, you can find anything." So, I'm old--discrimination, anyone? Illegal comment #1. "I'm paying you more than the others." Illegal comment #2. If this boy had a problem with my agreed-upon salary, then why didn't he say so at the interview? It's called negotiation. Then, to top it off, I get a check without the taxes taken out. More money for me to worry about at the end of the year. Get in line, people, IRS, Uncle Sam, everyone! I'm fucking broke. I'm at -12 and it's going to take me at least another year to get to zero. Not even a positive, but just zero as a basic balance. Girly Boy had my paperwork, but didn't have "time" to put it in. He had three weeks, but his life is more important than mine.

What do I do with a so-called boss who hires me with a smile on his face, tells me I'm doing a good job, refuses to train me properly, accidentally throws out all the paperwork I had on top of the register--which my welfare caseworker got me into hot water about--and then turns on me as if I'm the plague? Are we talking narcissist, Gemini or simply young, rich, trust fund bastard who simply doesn't give a fuck about my outcome. YUP! That's the answer.

So, I work out my last four hours. The last four hours of which I don't even know if I'll get paid. But, I'm nice to all the customers, I clean up (relatively speaking), and I have a knot in my stomach that had me so angry and so upset that I couldn't even count the drawer. I know how to count a drawer. It's pretty easy. I did it with great aplomb when I was 16 and I did it again for all these weeks and at Virgin, but I swear to you the math didn't make sense. I walked out at 10:04 pm and wanted to vomit. I stood outside the gates of St. John the Baptist church on 31st street doubled over, waiting to vomit, but it didn't happen. A total stranger asked me if I was ok. I said no, I just lost my job in the most underhanded way possible and that I was feeling sick. Do you want me to get help, he asked. No, I said, this will pass. It will always pass. Thank you for being a human being.

And how will this pass. I will tell you.

1) Those tips withheld are illegal. I am going to the Dept of Taxation and Finance on this little wussy twit.

2)Then, the EEOC, since I was told this is more fitting to a college student. Translation? You've graduated. What are you doing here. Um, you hired me, you stupid asshole. That's why I'm here. I need a job, dickhead.

3) I'm sure the Attorney General would like to know--as well as the better business bureau--that he's abusing immigrants (he made one chef CRY last week, I was there and I have two witnesses. Overworked and underpaid. How Tom Curley of him!) and that he's fucking teenagers out of their tips.

So, now I'm begging Virgin MegaStore to give me an extra day to hit 32 hours per week. I will also have to go back to craigslist to see if I can pick up another job, and start listing Roxxlander's vinyl that he gave to me last week. All 7 boxes of collectibles, goodies, and whatnot.

Right now, in the distance, I hear church bells playing what sounds like Debussy. Perhaps this is a sign. So much for trying to save my ass with 6 day a week work. Always, as always, I get screwed.

But those that are still at that place will not. I want my last four hours and then I will bury that bastard.

There are three things you do NOT do in this life.

1) you never hit your mother.

2) you don't rat out your friends.

3) you NEVER, EVER fuck with an Irish woman. We will come after you. Blood, guts, and glory. For us, not you.

Yes, kiddies....the bitch is back!

Tuesday, May 20, 2008

It's My Name, Too

A brain tumor. May is the month of Kennedys gone. I lost one of my jobs today, not that I liked it and will explain later, but also my father's death anniversary is coming up, and Teddy's got a brain tumor.

Here, in its full glory, is the famous concession speech from August 12, 1980.

"[AUTHENTICITY CERTIFIED: Text version below transcribed directly from audio]

Thanks very much, Barbara Mikulski, for your very eloquent, your eloquent introduction. Distinguished legislator, great spokeswoman for economic democracy and social justice in this country, I thank you for your eloquent introduction.

Well, things worked out a little different from the way I thought, but let me tell you, I still love New York.

My fellow Democrats and my fellow Americans, I have come here tonight not to argue as a candidate but to affirm a cause.

I'm asking you -- I am asking you to renew the commitment of the Democratic Party to economic justice.

I am asking you to renew our commitment to a fair and lasting prosperity that can put America back to work.

This is the cause that brought me into the campaign and that sustained me for nine months across a 100,000 miles in 40 different states. We had our losses, but the pain of our defeats is far, far less than the pain of the people that I have met.

We have learned that it is important to take issues seriously, but never to take ourselves too seriously.

The serious issue before us tonight is the cause for which the Democratic Party has stood in its finest hours, the cause that keeps our Party young and makes it, in the second century of its age, the largest political Party in this republic and the longest lasting political Party on this planet.

Our cause has been, since the days of Thomas Jefferson, the cause of the common man and the common woman.

Our commitment has been, since the days of Andrew Jackson, to all those he called "the humble members of society -- the farmers, mechanics, and laborers." On this foundation we have defined our values, refined our policies, and refreshed our faith.

Now I take the unusual step of carrying the cause and the commitment of my campaign personally to our national convention. I speak out of a deep sense of urgency about the anguish and anxiety I have seen across America.

I speak out of a deep belief in the ideals of the Democratic Party, and in the potential of that Party and of a President to make a difference. And I speak out of a deep trust in our capacity to proceed with boldness and a common vision that will feel and heal the suffering of our time and the divisions of our Party.

The economic plank of this platform on its face concerns only material things, but it is also a moral issue that I raise tonight. It has taken many forms over many years. In this campaign and in this country that we seek to lead, the challenge in 1980 is to give our voice and our vote for these fundamental democratic principles.

Let us pledge that we will never misuse unemployment, high interest rates, and human misery as false weapons against inflation.

Let us pledge that employment will be the first priority of our economic policy.

Let us pledge that there will be security for all those who are now at work, and let us pledge that there will be jobs for all who are out of work; and we will not compromise on the issues of jobs.

These are not simplistic pledges. Simply put, they are the heart of our tradition, and they have been the soul of our Party across the generations. It is the glory and the greatness of our tradition to speak for those who have no voice, to remember those who are forgotten, to respond to the frustrations and fulfill the aspirations of all Americans seeking a better life in a better land.

We dare not forsake that tradition.

We cannot let the great purposes of the Democratic Party become the bygone passages of history.

We must not permit the Republicans to seize and run on the slogans of prosperity. We heard the orators at their convention all trying to talk like Democrats. They proved that even Republican nominees can quote Franklin Roosevelt to their own purpose.

The Grand Old Party thinks it has found a great new trick, but 40 years ago an earlier generation of Republicans attempted the same trick. And Franklin Roosevelt himself replied, "Most Republican leaders have bitterly fought and blocked the forward surge of average men and women in their pursuit of happiness. Let us not be deluded that overnight those leaders have suddenly become the friends of average men and women."

"You know," he continued, "very few of us are that gullible." And four years later when the Republicans tried that trick again, Franklin Roosevelt asked, "Can the Old Guard pass itself off as the New Deal? I think not. We have all seen many marvelous stunts in the circus, but no performing elephant could turn a handspring without falling flat on its back."

The 1980 Republican convention was awash with crocodile tears for our economic distress, but it is by their long record and not their recent words that you shall know them.

The same Republicans who are talking about the crisis of unemployment have nominated a man who once said, and I quote, "Unemployment insurance is a prepaid vacation plan for freeloaders." And that nominee is no friend of labor.

The same Republicans who are talking about the problems of the inner cities have nominated a man who said, and I quote, "I have included in my morning and evening prayers every day the prayer that the Federal Government not bail out New York." And that nominee is no friend of this city and our great urban centers across this nation.

The same Republicans who are talking about security for the elderly have nominated a man who said just four years ago that "Participation in social security should be made voluntary." And that nominee is no friend of the senior citizens of this nation.

The same Republicans who are talking about preserving the environment have nominated a man who last year made the preposterous statement, and I quote, "Eighty percent of our air pollution comes from plants and trees." And that nominee is no friend of the environment.

And the same Republicans who are invoking Franklin Roosevelt have nominated a man who said in 1976, and these are his exact words, "Fascism was really the basis of the New Deal." And that nominee whose name is Ronald Reagan has no right to quote Franklin Delano Roosevelt.

The great adventures which our opponents offer is a voyage into the past. Progress is our heritage, not theirs. What is right for us as Democrats is also the right way for Democrats to win.

The commitment I seek is not to outworn views but to old values that will never wear out. Programs may sometimes become obsolete, but the ideal of fairness always endures. Circumstances may change, but the work of compassion must continue. It is surely correct that we cannot solve problems by throwing money at them, but it is also correct that we dare not throw out our national problems onto a scrap heap of inattention and indifference. The poor may be out of political fashion, but they are not without human needs. The middle class may be angry, but they have not lost the dream that all Americans can advance together.

The demand of our people in 1980 is not for smaller government or bigger government but for better government. Some say that government is always bad and that spending for basic social programs is the root of our economic evils. But we reply: The present inflation and recession cost our economy 200 billion dollars a year. We reply: Inflation and unemployment are the biggest spenders of all.

The task of leadership in 1980 is not to parade scapegoats or to seek refuge in reaction, but to match our power to the possibilities of progress. While others talked of free enterprise, it was the Democratic Party that acted and we ended excessive regulation in the airline and trucking industry, and we restored competition to the marketplace. And I take some satisfaction that this deregulation legislation that I sponsored and passed in the Congress of the United States.

As Democrats we recognize that each generation of Americans has a rendezvous with a different reality. The answers of one generation become the questions of the next generation. But there is a guiding star in the American firmament. It is as old as the revolutionary belief that all people are created equal, and as clear as the contemporary condition of Liberty City and the South Bronx. Again and again Democratic leaders have followed that star and they have given new meaning to the old values of liberty and justice for all.

We are the Party -- We are the Party of the New Freedom, the New Deal, and the New Frontier. We have always been the Party of hope. So this year let us offer new hope, new hope to an America uncertain about the present, but unsurpassed in its potential for the future.

To all those who are idle in the cities and industries of America let us provide new hope for the dignity of useful work. Democrats have always believed that a basic civil right of all Americans is that their right to earn their own way. The Party of the people must always be the Party of full employment.

To all those who doubt the future of our economy, let us provide new hope for the reindustrialization of America. And let our vision reach beyond the next election or the next year to a new generation of prosperity. If we could rebuild Germany and Japan after World War II, then surely we can reindustrialize our own nation and revive our inner cities in the 1980's.

To all those who work hard for a living wage let us provide new hope that their price of their employment shall not be an unsafe workplace and a death at an earlier age.

To all those who inhabit our land from California to the New York Island, from the Redwood Forest to the Gulf stream waters, let us provide new hope that prosperity shall not be purchased by poisoning the air, the rivers, and the natural resources that are the greatest gift of this continent. We must insist that our children and our grandchildren shall inherit a land which they can truly call America the beautiful.

To all those who see the worth of their work and their savings taken by inflation, let us offer new hope for a stable economy. We must meet the pressures of the present by invoking the full power of government to master increasing prices. In candor, we must say that the Federal budget can be balanced only by policies that bring us to a balanced prosperity of full employment and price restraint.

And to all those overburdened by an unfair tax structure, let us provide new hope for real tax reform. Instead of shutting down classrooms, let us shut off tax shelters. Instead of cutting out school lunches, let us cut off tax subsidies for expensive business lunches that are nothing more than food stamps for the rich.

The tax cut of our Republican opponents takes the name of tax reform in vain. It is a wonderfully Republican idea that would redistribute income in the wrong direction. It's good news for any of you with incomes over 200,000 dollars a year. For the few of you, it offers a pot of gold worth 14,000 dollars. But the Republican tax cut is bad news for the middle income families. For the many of you, they plan a pittance of 200 dollars a year, and that is not what the Democratic Party means when we say tax reform.

The vast majority of Americans cannot afford this panacea from a Republican nominee who has denounced the progressive income tax as the invention of Karl Marx. I am afraid he has confused Karl Marx with Theodore Roosevelt -- that obscure Republican president who sought and fought for a tax system based on ability to pay. Theodore Roosevelt was not Karl Marx, and the Republican tax scheme is not tax reform.

Finally, we cannot have a fair prosperity in isolation from a fair society. So I will continue to stand for a national health insurance. We must -- We must not surrender -- We must not surrender to the relentless medical inflation that can bankrupt almost anyone and that may soon break the budgets of government at every level. Let us insist on real controls over what doctors and hospitals can charge, and let us resolve that the state of a family's health shall never depend on the size of a family's wealth.

The President, the Vice President, the members of Congress have a medical plan that meets their needs in full, and whenever senators and representatives catch a little cold, the Capitol physician will see them immediately, treat them promptly, fill a prescription on the spot. We do not get a bill even if we ask for it, and when do you think was the last time a member of Congress asked for a bill from the Federal Government? And I say again, as I have before, if health insurance is good enough for the President, the Vice President, the Congress of the United States, then it's good enough for you and every family in America.

There were some -- There were some who said we should be silent about our differences on issues during this convention, but the heritage of the Democratic Party has been a history of democracy. We fight hard because we care deeply about our principles and purposes. We did not flee this struggle. We welcome the contrast with the empty and expedient spectacle last month in Detroit where no nomination was contested, no question was debated, and no one dared to raise any doubt or dissent.

Democrats can be proud that we chose a different course and a different platform.

We can be proud that our Party stands for investment in safe energy, instead of a nuclear future that may threaten the future itself. We must not permit the neighborhoods of America to be permanently shadowed by the fear of another Three Mile Island.

We can be proud that our Party stands for a fair housing law to unlock the doors of discrimination once and for all. The American house will be divided against itself so long as there is prejudice against any American buying or renting a home.

And we can be proud that our Party stands plainly and publicly and persistently for the ratification of the Equal Rights Amendment.

Women hold their rightful place at our convention, and women must have their rightful place in the Constitution of the United States. On this issue we will not yield; we will not equivocate; we will not rationalize, explain, or excuse. We will stand for E.R.A. and for the recognition at long last that our nation was made up of founding mothers as well as founding fathers.

A fair prosperity and a just society are within our vision and our grasp, and we do not have every answer. There are questions not yet asked, waiting for us in the recesses of the future. But of this much we can be certain because it is the lesson of all of our history: Together a President and the people can make a difference. I have found that faith still alive wherever I have traveled across this land. So let us reject the counsel of retreat and the call to reaction. Let us go forward in the knowledge that history only helps those who help themselves.

There will be setbacks and sacrifices in the years ahead; but I am convinced that we as a people are ready to give something back to our country in return for all it has given to us.

Let this -- Let this be our commitment: Whatever sacrifices must be made will be shared and shared fairly. And let this be our confidence: At the end of our journey and always before us shines that ideal of liberty and justice for all.

In closing, let me say a few words to all those that I have met and to all those who have supported me at this convention and across the country. There were hard hours on our journey, and often we sailed against the wind. But always we kept our rudder true, and there were so many of you who stayed the course and shared our hope. You gave your help; but even more, you gave your hearts.

And because of you, this has been a happy campaign. You welcomed Joan, me, and our family into your homes and neighborhoods, your churches, your campuses, your union halls. And when I think back of all the miles and all the months and all the memories, I think of you. And I recall the poet's words, and I say: "What golden friends I had."

Among you, my golden friends across this land, I have listened and learned.

I have listened to Kenny Dubois, a glassblower in Charleston, West Virginia, who has ten children to support but has lost his job after 35 years, just three years short of qualifying for his pension.

I have listened to the Trachta family who farm in Iowa and who wonder whether they can pass the good life and the good earth on to their children.

I have listened to the grandmother in East Oakland who no longer has a phone to call her grandchildren because she gave it up to pay the rent on her small apartment.

I have listened to young workers out of work, to students without the tuition for college, and to families without the chance to own a home.

I have seen the closed factories and the stalled assembly lines of Anderson, Indiana and South Gate, California, and I have seen too many, far too many idle men and women desperate to work.

I have seen too many, far too many working families desperate to protect the value of their wages from the ravages of inflation.

Yet I have also sensed a yearning for a new hope among the people in every state where I have been.

And I have felt it in their handshakes, I saw it in their faces, and I shall never forget the mothers who carried children to our rallies.

I shall always remember the elderly who have lived in an America of high purpose and who believe that it can all happen again.

Tonight, in their name, I have come here to speak for them. And for their sake, I ask you to stand with them. On their behalf I ask you to restate and reaffirm the timeless truth of our Party.

I congratulate President Carter on his victory here.

I am -- I am confident that the Democratic Party will reunite on the basis of Democratic principles, and that together we will march towards a Democratic victory in 1980.

And someday, long after this convention, long after the signs come down and the crowds stop cheering, and the bands stop playing, may it be said of our campaign that we kept the faith.

May it be said of our Party in 1980 that we found our faith again.

And may it be said of us, both in dark passages and in bright days, in the words of Tennyson that my brothers quoted and loved, and that have special meaning for me now:

"I am a part of all that I have met
To [Tho] much is taken, much abides
That which we are, we are --
One equal temper of heroic hearts
Strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield."

For me, a few hours ago, this campaign came to an end.

For all those whose cares have been our concern, the work goes on, the cause endures, the hope still lives, and the dream shall never die."

Monday, April 28, 2008

TeleVirgin SuperMac

Yes, you read that correctly. I have not one, not two but THREE part time jobs.

Virgin Megastore called me. Music, books, politics. That's so me it ain't funny.

SuperMac is a Mac and Cheese catering place. My favorite dish and the one part of soul food I love the most. Plus the tips are phenomenal.

And last, the one I don't like, the telelmarketing job. Of course, it's about the arts. I get to discuss the symphony, the ballet, plays, musicals, and all that. BUT! I have to persuade and schmooze people into buying tickets. My thing is, you either want them or you don't. I won't be keeping this job too long. Once Virgin gives me my hours?

I'm outta there.

Let's see if I can keep my Medicaid. That's the part that scares me the most. I need my medications. And Starbucks called, too.

Didn't I say it would be feast or famine? Never fails, kiddies, never fails.

And my roommate is still not giving me enough money. There. I said it. Stupid is not taking a bad job, stupid is keeping a bad job. When you get paid shit and only get paid two times a month? There ain't enough to be spread around. I had something like that for one month back in 1997. I walked out after 33 days and never looked back. Time for her to do the same.

Yes, if you're reading this, now the world knows. You're worth more! DEMAND IT.

Sunday, April 20, 2008

Not Much to Say



More great interviews, though.

Ricky's, Starbucks, 2 agencies, Virgin Megastore, Working Families Party, SuperMac.

For those of you reading this blog? Stay tuned, you might be getting a phone call very soon.

None of the places America Works has sent me to led to anything. Typical. All they have is menial, minimum wage jobs for the "lesser-thans" that cling to welfare. I'm not one of them. Myself and and a lawyer whose firm disbanded actually give each other knowing looks each morning when we talk. Yes, my superiority complex is coming out, but I'm not about to dumb myself down for the masses.

I'm convinced that this country wants obedience, sheepishness, low self-esteem, and outright stupidity to fit its ranks and rosters. I will NEVER do or be that.

My parents, from what I can see in this corporate narcissist haze in which I am stuck, did me a huge disservice by making me read news and books, making sure I worked part-time in high school and college, made me GO to college, and had me question what I saw and experienced all around me. The Robber Barons have come home to roost and are now pecking my flesh bit by bit. Inch by inch. Hitchcock couldn't have divised such cruelty in any of his films, and he was the master of suspense. Once again, I will not be obedient, I will not be nice, I will not be politically correct.

I am intelligent, hardworking, and am smarter, faster, and learn things quicker than any of these twits I'm dealing with. Mob rules do not apply to someone like me. I am a leader, not a follower. I will be slaughtered alone in protest and with a smile during my last breath, not packed with the lemmings going over the cliff, smashing into the rocks.

Contempt led me through these past five years, and contempt will allow me to rise above. I will put on the mask, play the part and dazzle. I grew up on a stage, who better than I to charm them with cooing words and a demure smile? It's all a game.

One in which I WILL DEVISE THE RULES. Should I die trying?

Well, these assholes couldn't carve out my dignity with their knives.

The demon is back. Say hi to the little bitch. I can tell she's gonna be around for quite some time this summer.

Saturday, April 12, 2008

Public (Non)Assistance

Well, the middle class is officially dead. We are also officially in a recession. Don't let Bernanke fool you. The only things I can find are part-time, and I'm struggling. So, I got my benefits (purely a title by attrition) to the tune of $31.50 per week. Yup, PER WEEK. I can't pay my bills, can't find a job (although the interviews are coming fast and furious), and I am seeing the death of the middle class.

I sat between two people the other day: one man had a PhD, the woman had a masters in teaching. No welfare queens or assholes bilking the system in this bunch. This is good old-fashioned Reagonomics coming home to bite our heads off. If you're not rich? Well, go bitch somewhere else. We don't wanna hear it!

Never in my lifetime have I had such a difficult time simply surviving.

And as for my living situation...well. Oh, boy. Don't get my started. Eccentric, selfish, mixed jumbles of yuppies that can afford this place and the blue collar chumps that can't get by? Let the class war begin.

I've fucking had it. Really and truly.

Wednesday, March 26, 2008

Hi again

Well, I'm back. Turned 36, found my Russian fotog Vlad (he gave me a pic of Gelsey for FREE), roomie's doing well, but our $ situation is not. I'm trying out NYC's emergency rent program and then if nothing happens, it's on the dole for me. NO pride at this point, it's all about survival. Since I've been running into people with masters and PhDs, it's not surprising that we're all struggling. Nothing's going to change until the next election, so I'm not going to freak out. I've cried, kicked and screamed and that's been a waste of my energy. The economy's in the toilet, and NAFTA's fucking us all. If people don't wake up by the time November rolls around? We're all doomed.

Other than that, I'm happy to see Spring breaking thru. After an entire year that felt like winter, it's refreshing to see the sun out a little later in the evening.

In the meantime, it's off to Sephora and Starbucks for me.

(To apply there, not to shop. Please, kiddies. I'm not that stupid.)

Thursday, March 13, 2008

Two Things I'm Known For



Anyone who knows me realizes that 1) I love Christmas; and 2) I was raised with Italians up to the age of 9 in Bensonhurst, Brooklyn. Once upon a time it was THE Quintessential Italian Neighborhood. Now it's mostly Russian and Chinese, but I like to think of the Pasta/Pizza/Tony/Bakery days.

What you might not know is that "The Godfather" was released in New York City on the same day I was born: March 15, 1972. It was a Wednesday, I was told. Maybe 5 or 6 theatres. No one realized the epic saga it would become. People thought Brando was just hamming it up with an orange tabby in his arms. Little did Scorcese realize he'd crafted one of the top 100 films of all time. Even made men--REAL MOBSTERS--revere Mario Puzo's tale of family, secrets and revenge.

Here's a spoof video to celebrate my two loves: the holiday and all my Italians. I was given (and boy, do I hate this word) Honorary Wop Status back in 1997 due to my pasta-making abilities and my full knowledge of opera in lyrics and the ability to sing some of those arias. Some of these lovable nutjobs even refer to me as "Kennedini" or "Kennedizzi", which never fails to make me collapse when I hear it. My mother rolled her eyes and my dad's spleen almost burst while laughing when I received that particular birthday card. I know it's in storage somewhere.

Enjoy!

Wednesday, March 5, 2008

A Dog Barks....at 1 am, 2 am, etc

Yes, Animal Control has been called. Why?

For the past TWO WEEKS the asshole who lives beneath me has been unable (if not unwilling) to keep his dog quiet. A barking dog in an apartment as small as mine equals

1) the dog is stressed.

2) the dog is not being taken out on a regular basis, hence the stress.

3) the dog is sick, hungry, or otherwise neglected.

I watch Caesar Milan. DOGS NEED TO BE WALKED AND ATTENDED TO. THEY NEED TOYS, PARKS, WALKS, AND PLAY. My own father raised german shepherds upstate when he was a child through his teenage years. I think I know something about animals. I worked in a pet store. I've done volunteer work in Brooklyn and rescue work in NYC. I'm an animal lover. THAT IS WHY I CALLED 311 LAST NIGHT AT 12:51 AM AND PUT IN A COMPLAINT ABOUT THE ASSHOLE BENEATH ME. It's not about him. It's about the dog.

First, in my typical Stormtrooper fashion, I banged on his door. Asshole refused to open it and face me. Instead he spoke macho bullshit to me behind a lock. How manly!

If a dog is barking and someone is home, why don't you try to calm your dog down? Then, I walked up the stairs screaming about he should watch Animal Planet or The Dog Whisperer, and I get, "I never bother you when you're banging upstairs with the tv on. Maybe I'll come up and visit you more often?" I answered, "My door's always open. Come on in if you need to!"

Now, here's the stupid part of the argument. My noise at night is the same as anyone's in this building. You can hear the floorboards creak and the toilets flush. It's called living in a tenement apartment built in 1929. The walls and floors are paper-thin. However, once my noise stops (and within a reasonable hour), all is quiet and there are no cats wailing or yowling. People noise is not the same as a stressed-out dog barking. Noise is tolerated, as specifically stated in the lease (which Asshole obviously did not read) between the hours of 8 am and 10 pm. 12:51 am is LATE AT NIGHT, THEREFORE VIOLATING THE TERMS OF THE LEASE. Does it take a lawyer to know that? NO! READ THE DAMN LEASE.

Mind you, this asshole has only been living here since October. In those 5.5 months, he has managed to piss off his neighbor, my next-door neighbors, my superintendent and his wife, Kathy. Kathy, is like me: Irish and German. Except she is older, less tolerant of bullshit and has seen and done it all. Frankly, she is what I will most likely turn into by the age of 50. Loud, brash, and more frightening than anything Stephen King or Wes Craven could invent. I admire her greatly. This took time, but I realized that we have the same values. She did not take kindly to being referred as Hughie's (my super and her husband) 'ball and chain' this past summer before Asshole even moved in. This comment was made in front of other people who know Hughie and Kathy. You don't fuck with the people that will help you open a lock, fix plumbing, or unclog a toilet. Hughie refers to Asshole as "that piece of work", my neighbors refer to him as "Oh, yeah. THAT guy." No one likes him. I guess his dog doesn't either.

And now, neither do I. My complaint # has been filed. Asshole will get a letter in the mail from the city of NY stating on how to keep his dog quiet. I know he doesn't know how to keep his dog happy, because this is the only companionship he can find. Very much like the dickhead I live underneath. He beat his girlfriend to a pulp two summers ago. If you think I'm not big on animal neglect, ask me my opinion on domestic violence. I called the cops on him and he happens to be a cop himself. Do you think I cared? Ummm.....NO. Kicking your significant other around like a Brazilian at the World Cup doesn't sit well with me. He knows I called. Now he sheepishly avoids my gaze and has kept his love life (and his boxing skills) OUT of his apartment. I did not care that he is a member of law enforcement. I did not fear that he has a gun and might have turned on me. If I could battle pneumonia, survive almost being miscarried twice inside my own mother, chronic bronchitis, fibromyalgia, acne, cysts in my breasts and ovaries, and recurring staph infections when I was a kid? It's obvious that I, like my cats, have nine lives. A bullet would only take away another one of them. My life force and my will is THAT STRONG. Plus, I could sue him, I could sue the management company for leasing a place to an obvious mental defective, I could sue the NYPD for not properly profiling a member of their own psychologically, and then I'd go to the media. My rolodex is fat and full of names I took with me from my former job. He'd be a disgrace, and I'd be a survivor making the rounds of CNN, The Times, The Daily News, and maybe other talk show outlets. I wouldn't shut up. I'd be a damn celebrity. I'd make sure of it.

So why should I fear this asshole beneath me? From what I can see, he drives a truck. He told Hughie he has his own company, but when Hughie asked him about his "fleet", he said he only has one truck. That's not a company. That's you driving a truck. And keeping strange hours. Hours that your dog is neglected. Hours in the night when I don't see your lights on, or even see you in the hallway. I think I saw asshole walking this dog ONCE. At least dickhead above me takes his own dog out twice a day. Dickhead might not be nice to the women in his life, but he is nice to his dog. Asshole seems to neglect dogs and it's clear to me he hates women, given his lovely veiled "threat" and his 'ball and chain' comment. Through a locked door, no less. Oh, I'm soooo afraid. Don't you love cowards? Aren't they fun?

So, the City of NY has put the letter in the mail. We'll see what happens. I know housing court pretty well given my parents travails and my own journalism school trips, and if it gets to that? I'll see that he's either brought up on charges, evicted, or has the dog taken away from him. It's about the dog! Not Asshole!

I will stop at nothing anymore to ensure my own peace of mind and the province of sleep. I've had it with assholes, dickheads, and morons. PERIOD. Like Kathy says, "Don't fuck with the Irish. We're really not that nice in a fight."

To be continued...