And Then There was Only One to Decry the Inhumanity


It’s an innocent word. All words are in and of themselves.

Until they are attached to people, events and things and then they can and often do take on a tone all their own. We all know that in reference to a whole plethora of words we do not use in our society. The “N” word, the “R” word are examples.

Collaborator simply means “to work together, especially in a joint intellectual undertaking”. Scientists collaborate in their efforts to build a robot to walk the red dirt of Mars. Certainly a laudable effort.

But the word came to take on a very negative tone after WWII when it was learned that various people in various countries had “collaborated” with the Nazis in order to gain safety, extra food, preferred treatment of some sort. There were Dutch collaborators, as pictured here, and French. There were Jews who sold out other Jews.

To be a collaborator became the name of someone who had sold out, saved his own skin at the expense of others, someone who for some personal gain was willing to do the bidding of another group who was acting against one’s own kind, however defined.

The world is full of collaborators, unfortunately.

I have something to say. It in no way is limited to the folks I’m going to talk about. There are their counterparts in every other group I can think of. I’ve been reading Max Blumenthal’s, Republican Gomorrah: Inside the Movement that Shattered the Party. For several chapters now, Blumenthal has been documenting the Religious Right and it’s stranglehold on the Republican Party. He has been documenting how some  African-Americans, sexual misbehavors, gays, and women have been willing to shill for the Right, and doing it by attacking in the most virulent manner their own kind. 

They all have their reasons, they all can give excuses, but in the end, they are those who would walk away from themselves and their families and friends in order to achieve some personal goal. It might be money, prestige, or power. It is never pretty. It always makes one slightly sick.

We see it in the guise of so many Black conservatives (I use the term Black here because they almost universally decry the use of the term African-American since they are promoting the trope of “we are all equal” now). We see it most recently in the various low-level Republican women who have been shoved before microphones to insist that the GOP has no war against women, but this is all just some ploy by Democrats to scare women. We see it in Log Cabin Republicans who look aside as members of their party demean and verbally abuse our LGBTQ brothers and sisters, in the name of God and “traditional values.”

I have said nothing about the tragedy in Florida relating to the murder of Trayvon Martin. You are all most clear on the facts I am sure. It is heartbreaking to see this play out. It is heartbreaking to listen to grown men of African-American descent, talk about how as young men, they learned rules of behavior that no white male would and will ever hear.

  • Don’t run in public places. You will surely be thought to be running from some crime you committed.
  • Don’t speak back to police officers no matter what they say. Don’t argue. Don’t maintain eye contact.
  • Don’t be alone, but don’t be in such numbers that you will be thought a gang.
  • Don’t carry things in your hands, no matter how innocent they may be.
  • Don’t go there  or there or there at night, during the day,  . . .

Can you imagine this? Can you? I can assure you it is the reality of life for the teen American Black Male. I have witnessed more than one distraught mother, shaking her head as she looked at me with tears in her eyes. “I told him not to go . . . or to be with. . . . ”

Have you ever heard radio tapes between patrol officers and dispatch when investigating an arrest? I can tell you that it is common that  the “suspicious activity” often involves merely a black male late at night being in a place that is “white”.

I worked in Detroit. At the time, the most ritzy part of the greater Detroit Metropolitan area were the “Grosse Points”, actually several smaller suburbs, but home to the car giants, the Fords and Iacocca. They were all white. There were NO blacks in residence, other than the help. Do you know what constituted “suspicious activity”? A car with black youths crossing the line from Detroit into their jurisdiction.

The case of Trayvon smacks exactly of this kind of thing to me. And as usual, but for the hue and cry from the African-American community, it would have gone unnoticed.

But there are voices that I am not hearing at all.

I have not heard Alan West, that staunch conservative from Florida say a word. I have not heard Alan Keyes say a word. I have not heard Herman Cain say a word. I have not heard any of pandering sycophants that pass for African-American Republicans lift their voices in horror and dismay. (Nor of course are we hearing from the Religious Right either. Fox has been nearly silent)

And I wonder why.

Except I know.

Their “constituents”, nay their masters, those lily-white haters of all things non-white won’t tolerate it. No, they mouth, on behalf of whitey, the crap that racism is over in this country, and that we judge “by the content of the character” thereby abusing no only the sensibilities of rational people but also demeaning  the greatest civil rights leader of our time. If West or Keyes or Cain raise their voices, they will be accused of  “playing the race card”. The white head will shake and bemoan, “he’s just like them all, always using race, instead of. . . .” Hear the echos of Mr. Zimmerman? “they always get away. . .”

So don’t expect to hear much from these fine Black conservatives. They condemn themselves. But then what is new? 

Yes, It’s True, We’re Marching to Pretoria

It’s all for one and one for all. . . .



Willard thinks we should all just get along now.

Newt says that this proves that Ragin’ Rick ain’t got the cajones and should step aside and let a real man wade into the Mitty waters.

Ron Paul has gone to sleep.

Ragin’ Rick says, “on to Pretoria . . .err, I mean Louisiana–you must stop that ghetto Cajun talk and speak English!”

Me? I’m packing.

Did you know that Johnny Depp is in New Mexico even as we speak? Yes he is! He’s shooting Tonto. And I’m here in Iowa. Not where I should be, by his side, offering technical advice on how he can be even more adorable each and every moment that he breathes.

Oh. Excuse me. I forgot myself.

Hey, I can drift into Deppland just a bit. The Contrarian was pulling for this woman on Jeopardy just because she had big boobs! I never noticed at all. I think that’s a lousy reason to cheer for a contestant.

John has talent. Pure, gorgeous talent, from the tip of his head to the tip of his toe. And I would like to . . .

Back to REAL LIFE.

Real life has Willard in it. Oh that man annoys the bejesus out of me. The phony of phonies, not to be confused with the holy of holies. Or the moly of molies.

Excuse me. I have to make some scalloped potatoes. Explain that name to me. They have no scallops in them, are not cut to resembled scalloped edging. So what is it with calling them scalloped? Huh?

Wanna watch evolution in reverse? Head to the state of Tennessee where you can see the latest in evolutionary chic, which is creationism in all it’s glory. Yes, ladies and gents hurry up and watch the fake illusory fable compete with science.

From this day forward, lil childrins in the fair state of Tennessee whose namer was a writing stutterer (the true spelling of which is Tenese), will be teached both truth and fable in one jumble of hogwash that passes as your basic edge-E-cation. You will learn if you are so inclined that all these so-called “theories” are controversial, as Pastor Backwards so informed you last Sunday from his pulpit. He learnt that from his KJV which has all the important stuff in red, for the quick tour.

They also passed a law that allows all those ten commandments to be displayed everywhere so you can refresh you memory before stoopin’ the mayors sweet wife when she comes in for some “pork” at the deli.

Oh I did not say that.

I have a question. The Willard says that the President doesn’t understand the economy.

Willard says he was a business man.

Does that mean he understands the economy?

Does The Willard have as many experts advising him on the economy as the President has?

Another example of the inability of Republicans to follow plain logic.

Instead of quietly walking away from an issue that is killing them, the GOP is racing over the cliff. In Tennessee, as you no doubt heard, there is a bill that would require every doctor who does an abortion to be in a list, and that list must include the patients, and plenty of personal information about them. It seems that if you can’t stop the abortion, you make a list of all the necessary information for hate groups and their too-willing nuts to “take care of the problem” themselves.

And In Arizona, when even the dried up prune, Jan Brewer refused to sign the “employer decides if your contraception is for the right purpose” bill, another bright GOP bulb wants prospective aborting women to “have to watch a real abortion” first. And before you are treated for prostate cancer you idiot, I think you should was some ass surgery.

Remember back when President Obama and Senator of Orange, John Boehner were close to the “grand bargain” to pass a budget and end the debt ceiling crisis? Remember that? And remember when JB said that the reason it failed was that “Obama moved the goal posts once again”? And remember that he looked a little sheepish?

Well, the truth comes forth. Indeed the Prez and lil’ weiner Boehner were near a deal. And Boehner was very sincere. And while he was being very sincere, wanna be Eric Cantor was being very sincere in going around all the TeaPeople® and telling them that he would lead them in a mutiny against JB, and whispering that JB was nothing but a low-down RINO.

Now, a bit of history is in order. Way back in the time of Newtydom, when Newt was Speaker, he was getting entirely too friendly with working with President Clinton. The religious RAgeous Right decided his time had come, and they were organizing a mutiny to dump Newty. Dick Armey thought he was their chosen heir apparent. Except they had in mind Steve Largent (previously a footballer who had got that old time religion and was married to  James Dobson and Tony Perkins and all those crazy MF’s). So Armey told Newt, and Newt avoided the coup.

So, Boehner gets wind of the tides of NO CONFIDENCE about to descend upon his Cheetos head, and well, he ran screamin’ into the night of NO.

And that’s the way that grand bargain fell apart.  And that MF I threw it in there? That was Mindless Furies. Cuz I don’t use those bad words.

And this I just leave you with, cuz I haven’t worked up anything really good on it yet. I swear it’s true though. Here in Iowa they have begun advertising a website called which is for farmy types who are looking for love. It’s a dating service for hicks. I swear it’s true. I do.


Living in Lillypuddin’ Land or the Isle of Disconnect

I mean, they want to win don’t they?

Or is this merely a charade?

It must be, since it is otherwise inexplicable why grown men with some measure of intelligence–that required to walk upright and chew food–would say the idiotic things that have been heard on the campaign trail in the last few days.

First good old Ragin’ Rick informs Puerto Ricans that in his Administration, a brand new requirement to statehood will be added: namely that they discard that old-fashioned Spanishy talk, and pony up to American English–presumably no cheerio and pip pip nonsense of course.

Well Puerto Ricans responded rather firmly with Ricky. Na Na Ricky. No Más.

As of late, the Willard, not to be outdone in the duh race, informed college bound students that “they were on their own” in terms of costs. Don’t come looking to his Administration for financial help. Nope, get a job there junior. Oh, well, a third job them.

And as to women? He’s “getting rid” of Planned Parenthood. He doesn’t care where you get your mammogram there lady. That’s lady business, none of mine. I’m the economic wizard, and I only touch me some lady parts when I am increasing the herd, heh, heh. Get my meanin’ there missy?

“If you are looking for free stuff there lady, vote for the other guy.” Yeah, he said that. Yes he did.

I haven’t heard much of the so-called “new and improved” Ryan plan. But I did hear that he opened by announcing that priority #1 was repeal of Obamacare. Now that tells me right off that he and the Gobs of Poo have no real intention of putting forth a real economic plan. Unless picking a fight with your opening line is your way of thoughtful and conciliatory budget discussion.

But as I hear it, the deficit decriers are slashing spending as only the heartless can, all the while REDUCING TAXES FOR THE RICH EVEN FURTHER, and  just in case that is still too onerous, they would gut the Alternative Minimum tax all together.

All in all, the “new” Ryan plan is nothing more than regifting the old one. Dude, I said, I didn’t like it the first go round.

March Madness used to refer to basketball. Now it refers to Grey Old Putzes running for a nomination.

The funny thing about a guy like Newt is that they are so full of themselves, that they think your making fun of them is just sour grapes. You know, you’re just jealous that you aren’t them. It’s but another delusion they live in.

It’s one of those days. I’ve been packing. I have the living room done, which is more than you might expect because we have cabinets which had dishes and sideboard that was chock full of china. We’re made decisions about how we are going about selling the bronco and tractors and rototiller and such. That is hugely a relief. So now it’s to the Pod people, or the Mayflower, or whom ever. They all have those now. And buying a new car, and finding out about renting an RV and going to see the real estate people to put us in touch with an agent in Las Cruces who can start gettin’ busy.

And then there is fish and chips for dinner, which I positively hate to make but love to eat.

And it’s soggy all over cuz we had a bunch of storms that ran through last night.

But none of our cats look like this cuz they are smartie cats, and don’t go out in the rain. Even when the strays that have taken up residence in one of the out buildings, and I feed a bit here and there, were caterwauling (meaning doing the nasty), none of ours ventured out to peep.

I was proud of them for their maturity.

Bear used to get all scaredy cat when it thundered. His hearing is now so non-existent that he doesn’t notice now.

That’s sad. We are conflicted about him at the moment. He has his good days and his bad. We’re trying to fairly assess how bad the bad is. The good is not very good. But the spark is there sometimes and then you feel awful for even thinking about, well you know. Sigh.

The thing about string theory is that at some point, you realize it’s all about. String that is.

You can’t escape it.

You’re strings too.

And that can be very confusing.

And so I would suggest that you not think about it too hard.

You can only open you eyes so wide you know before they pop right out. And if you are near the pot, well, they might be confused with MEATBALLS!

And that is simply gross.

Our cats have too much sense to think about strings.

So sue me. 

I Felt Like I Was Homer, Doh

No, no, not THAT Homer. The other Homer, the one who sailed the Mediterranean.

That is they story the Contrarian is pushing. For what that’s worth.

Okay, so this is the story.

The Contrarian tends to read my blogs in bunches. And so he acccccuuuum-ulates all the MInor little digs I make at him, and makes them a BIG DEAL.

So he insists that I set the record straight. So that is this.

A couple of days ago, I was complaining, as has been my wont for some time now that my tummy was unhappy. I have what are known as “digestive issues” and from time to time they annoy me for a few days. So anyhow, I was grousing about this, and sucking down my fourth cup of coffee, when I mused, “I wonder if in fact the full caffeine coffee is making this worse than it otherwise would be?”

Lights, camera, action.

The next thing I know, said holder of the ring of committment, was getting his wallet and checkbook and inserting same in bibs.

“Where ya goin’?” I inquired.

“To get you some D-caf.” he intoned.

“Oh, dear, I can wait, I’ll just stop drinking coffee for a bit.”

“No, the minute you mentioned it, I knew that was it. I”m going to get my sweetie some D-caf.”

And so it goes.

He left.

He returned. With ice cream drumsticks, but no coffee.

“Didn’t have any at Troy. Didn’t have any at Walker either.” he moaned.

“Well, we can get some next week.”

“No, I just came back to drop off the drumsticks, I’m off to Center Point.”

“Parker, that’s enough. No need for all that.”

“No, I going. If I’m not back in twenty minutes, then I had to go clean into Cedar Rapids.”

He left.

He returned.

He had a green container of Folgers.

“I may have to take  rest,” he shuddered. “It’s awful out there.”

“I think I traveled to hell and back. Bicycles, bicycles, bicycles everywhere. I mean they don’t even know enough to get over yet. They haven’t been hit enough times, the brush back doesn’t work. I was nearly killed on a hill when I had to go AROUND them. On a HILL of all places.”

He walked into the living room and flopped down, still muttering.

“I felt like Homer, I felt like Homer,” I heard him say again and again.

I had not the heart to ask which.

 I have only one dog left in the fight. MSU is in the Sweet Sixteen. All my other teams were defeated. Sometimes in nail-biters, sometimes rather ignominiously. Such is March Madness. Such is the foul-make ’em-foul shoot, college ball.

I find that reading crap from the Right is a great sanity protector. One has to hold most strongly to one’s own in order to properly witness the evaporation of someone elses.  (by the way, that is an original quote from me. Feel free to quote me–extensively. Sherry M. Peyton, thinker extraordinaire)

What would it take to buy you off? I’m not talking about the average politician who bit by bit sells his vote for enough dough to insure his own re-election. He/she salves his soul by telling himself that he is simply doing what needs to be done to remain there to do the “right” thing by the really big issues.

I’m talking about the man or woman who makes a decision to deny their very self in return for success, however defined. The ones who out-torture their torturers. The ones who will demean gender, orientation, race, ethnicity, and/or beliefs in order to be in “the club” and reap the reward, called the “American Dream.” The ones who cannot look their own in the eye any more, because of what they have done in the name of winning personal reward.

I’m reading about them in Republican Gomorrah, by Max Blumenthal. It absolutely makes your skin crawl. If other life forms have visited us, they must surely have left in disgust. To witness up close the intertwining evil is frightening, but at the most basic, it’s not an ideology so much as it is a series of petulant, damaged little men and women who want people to sit up and take notice that they are alive and prosperous. They recognize each other, and join forces all supporting each other in their personal madness, corrupted and corrupting all they touch, for this barely believed “greater good” they hope to usher in.

I should go pack some more. LOL. I’m obviously in a foul mood.

It’s Monday, I’m retired, and I still hate Mondays.


Dude, Yer Messin’ With My Space-Time Continuum

The “issue” reached critical mass yesterday evening. In the midst of a days-long marathon of NCAA basketball, the Contrarian and I found ourselves side by side watching the game.

I say “the” game not of course meaning it. There were four games going on simultaneously, and the “man with the remote” was busy at each commercial break, switching back and forth, grumbling constantly at the “infinite ability of networks to syncronize their breaks so that I am forced to watch these MF’ing same stupid commercials over and over again.”

I, on the other hand, am getting a headache as my brain tries to change gears a dozen times as the screen before me suddenly changes for NO APPARENT REASON since the buttons on said remote are silent.

After this has gone on interminally, from my perspective, which is the only one that counts, I grabbed the offensive weapon in a rare moment when it had been set down.

“NO, NO, NO, NO. GIVE IT BACK! GIVE IT BACK! he veritably screamed in terror and child-like tantrumish frantic cries.


“Not until you stop pushing the buttons every three seconds!”

“I’m in charge of keeping track of the games. You can’t even find a stupid channel by yourself. Give it back NOW!”

Truly, he was only seconds away from flopping on the floor and going into all-out kicking screaming mode, when I relented and handed it back.

He calmed down visibly, but you could still see the hand shaking even in that momentary withdrawl.

Which brings me to today.

I don’t ask for much. Surely you can see that.

I get up on Saturday, and busy myself with wash and with recipe creations and so forth, and with a nice cup of coffee and a quiet (did I mention QUIET?) beginning to my day watching Chris Hayes on “UP” on MSNBC. I sit and ponder, listening carefully to the nuggets of wisdom that may come forth.

He gets up. He is YOU KNOW WHO.

I step off to finish up some dishes for a few seconds, and return, setting calmly once again.

And then it happens. The commercial begins, and he grabs that thing and starts pushing buttons and the screen is flashing by.

“What have you done?” I ask suspiciously.

“I’m just catching up,” he says.

“Catching up with what?” I look with rather more suspicion.

“I backed it up to check something, so now we are catching up again. Not to worry, almost there.”

“Are you saying that I was watching that and THOUGHT it was real time and it really wasn’t?”

“Yep, no harm no foul, as they say.”

“Dude, you have messed up my space-time continuum. I will be off center all damn day now! Man, you are not to be trusted even for a minute.”

Welcome to my world.

See, insurance has been covering most contraception for a long time. Except now, the crazies think it’s a new Obama thing.

So they are against it. Even though they are for me paying for their pregnancies, wanted or unwanted. They are for me paying for their Viagra. They are for me paying for their diabetic medicine when their diabetes is caused by OBESITY, because they can’t keep their mouths shut in the face of a donut. This is simple logic.

They are not able to logically see that this is all the same stuff.

Republicans are not logical.

This is a syllogym that anyone can understand. Except Republicans. They can’t, for obvious reasons.

They say that when he was at Bain Capital, Willard had a piece of tape placed upon the floor, several feet in front of his desk. Those who entered were to come no closer, unless invited.

I don’t know if that’s true. I sounds true.

You know what I mean?

They say Willard is inevitable.

Willard says that himself.

So are death and taxes.

Anybody voting for them?

See, Ron won’t get out until somebody agrees to eliminate the Fed.

Newt won’t get out because he has no friends, and he hasn’t had anyone to talk to for years.

Rick won’t get out because he’s on a sacred crusade from God, and you can’t say no to God.

Mitt won’t get out because, he’s still trying to prove he can do better than Dad.

Chris won’t get in because he’s too fat and lazy.

Jeb won’t get in because he had a brother who every pretty much still hates.

Sarah and Alan all are waving their hands frantically—WE WILL SERVE, and nobody cares. Or they care just enough to be mortified.

I hereby certify that the Republic is safe for the day. You may wander around the planet as you desire.

And don’t forget to laugh.


Has It Come to This Again?


I meant Friday.

My sweet brain cells are under extreme tension and stress.

I have lots of teams in the NCAA that I have to root for.

Sometimes, well that brings me into conflict.

I used to live in Connecticut. You know. Connecticut. Where basketball is akin to the Mayflower and that great experiment? It’s like the MOST important thing.

So, I’m a Huskies fan.

But I live in Iowa. So it would be ungracious of me not to support Iowa teams.

And when Connecticut plays Iowa. . . sigh. . . well you see my dilemma.

And then of course I support MSU, because that is my alma mater. So I get all twisted when MSU plays either Connecticut or either of the Iowa teams.

And NOW there is my about to be state: New Mexico. So there are two teams there. And I want to be a good New Mexican.

So. . .the potential for conflict is growing, well, exponentially.

What kind of packer are you?

No, not football. Geesh. You and my husband!

No, I mean packing as in boxing up all your crap to move it to another location, packing.

I like to think I’m a pristine packer. Nice sleek boxes, nice tape. Packing carefully, lots of bubble wrap and peanuts, and very clean items, carefully chosen as necessary to my new about-to-be life.

At least throw out the crap you haven’t seen since the last time you unpacked, thirteen years ago.


Instead, I’m dumping it in, and sealing it up, and thinkin’, “I’ll sort through that when we unpack.” or “I wash all that when I have a dishwasher again.”  I suck. I know it, and I keep on suckin’ at packing.

Speaking of which. Guess who has not placed one single item in one single box so far?


You women know of what I speak.

The noodle heads of course claim that racism exited stage left when MLK was declared the new human shield used by racists to declare their lack of racism. Ain’t no racism no mo’, I only judge by the content of the character!


As Juanita Jean so perfectly points out. There is nothing left to the imagination with this little bumper sticker coming to a car near you.

The new hate.

Is there anything but hate and “otherness” to these people?

At long last, have they no shame?

When they are not wrapping themselves in the American flag and proclaiming their way is  “the way” they are slipping on the white robe of morality and telling everyone else how to live righteously.

All the while they are doing the nasty and lookin’ at the porn quicker than anyone else.

Speaking of which, Squatlo Rant has a link to the story of a woman and what it means to be subject to the Texas sonograms law from a real life example.

Meanwhile Ragin’ Rick is busy telling Puerto Ricans that they gotta learn to speak English and promising the rest of us, or them too, that he will spare no expense in having the Justice Department devote it’s time to eradicate pornography. He said he would personally look at it all, cuz he sure does know it when he sees it. Look out BARBIE, no more chest bumps for YOU.

This comes as great news to Americans who are looking for work. Perhaps they can be English teachers or porn identifiers in the new Santorum regime. Probably only a minimum wage job. . .oh I think Santorum is probably against minimum wage. . .makes ya dependent ya know.

Constant Weader points us to this older Vanity Fair article to understand the awful state that Republican policies have put this economy in. It’s a valuable read. Joseph Stiglitz is the author.

Did you know that “performance bonuses” were changed to “retention bonuses” to reflect that there was little performance but they sure wanted to pay themselves that money anyway.

It’s about greed. I bet that comes as a surprise.

This one just gave me a giggle. Written by a “purported” liberal turned conservative, it suggests all sorts of things that are patently untrue on the surface and beneath. This guy is about my age, maybe a bit younger. I did not grow up thinking capitalism was somehow bad. And duh, you might want to look at the numbers. Americans are far from the happiest people on the planet. They regularly fall far below most Europeans in life satisfaction. That darned anecdotal evidence thing again. An anecdote does not make a generalization dude.


Blago Bites the Bullet Big Time

Hi Ho, Hi Ho, it’s off to the slammer we go.

Blago blah blahed about how he wasn’t guilty/would be back/thanked all the little people/was facing a challenge/none of the above, or something else entirely. Nobody cared.

It’s just nice noting the turning of a page of crap.

I have a reader stuffed with blogs and other newsworthy picks. I can’t begin to read them all every day. I do the best I can, and from time to time, I purge the list of those places that I don’t find I’m using much.

And, as you can expect, I am constantly finding new places that are providing much food for thought. So I thought I’d at least mention some of them, so you can decide whether you might add them to your list of “must reads.”

I do my best to include lots of voices, especially voices I respect, but some I don’t. I have stricken The Blaze, finding the reporting the near non-existent scribblings of high school students at best. Frankly the only thing interesting were the comments and when you understand that these lost souls are unredeemable from a psychological point of view, there seems little point in reading their sad recitation of wacko talking points.

That said, I have added The American Spectator which is deeply conservative. I suspect they are not true believers so much as they are manipulators. I’ve come to realize you don’t read the kool-aid drinkers but the mixers. Along with the National Review, is about all I can stomach of the “intellectual right.”

On a much brighter note, I’ve added the following:  Feministing which lends a more snarky women’s point of view to things. Field Negro, adds another African-American voice, as does SkepticalBrotha and Uppity Negro Network.  Lesbians speak up in Tenured Radical and Social (In)Queery. We try to better understand our Latino citizens with The Wise Latina Club.

If any of you have blogs that you think I should follow please do advise. The broader the network of voices, the more informed we all are. At least so I believe.

As most of you are aware, we are embroiled in this country with a number of GOP faux issues: women’s right to contraceptive care, among them. Juanita Jean directs us to this great site for some good old fun with the perpetrators of Texas’ sonogram law. Women there, are, how shall we put it, not so pleased with their men.  God bless Facebook for providing the space to gather.

We have an appointment at 3:00 p.m at our local market to pick up their daily supply of boxes for my packing adventures. The Contrarian invited me to sup before hand. He recommends “La Mick-Don-aulds” for an offering of surf and turf, otherwise known as a Big Mac and Fish sandwich. I’m so excited, I’m wearing my best hoodie.

The GOP claims that the stimulus has been an unmitigated disaster. Now, I’d be the first to admit that one thing doesn’t necessarily correlate with another, just cause they happen at near the same time. But just sayin’ I think that the GOP doesn’t much like this graph.

But then they probably explain it some other way. Like Alan West, who says that the rise of the stock market over 13,000 is in “anticipation of the GOP victory in November.” (the vertical is the # of job-less unemployment claims)

This is one of the reasons I so dislike flag-waving right wingers who constantly tout the US as some special mecca of perfection unknown throughout the rest of the civilized or not world. These are some damning and sobering numbers. It gives new meaning to the term: “We’re #1″. Please read America the Possible: A Manifesto Pt 1. It’s long, but it’s today’s must read.

The dangers of carbon dioxide. Tell that to a plant, how dangerous carbon dioxide is. — Rick Santorum, accepting the Michele Bachmann chair in biochemistry … (This from the Constant Weader) *Chuckle*

Christopher Orlet over at American Spectator has some interesting things to say about the idea that what might help America is if we weren’t so segregated in housing between the rich, middle class and poor. Let’s just say he’s not likin’ the idea much as you can see from the following:

 In general the middle class craves order, stability, security and tranquility. The poor, meanwhile, lead lives that are slovenly chaotic. (this of the “poor” in his own neighborhood and why his middle class neighbors want to escape)

You quickly grow weary of cleaning up your neighbors’ mounds of discarded beer cans, fast food bags, and wrappers. Marijuana is smoked openly on the sidewalks and stoops.

the few responsible middle class parents on our street do not allow their children to associate with their poorer neighbors. I can’t say I blame them. The foul language, the filth, the drug use, the frequent spousal and child abuse, and the unsecured firearms are all excellent reasons why, even on our block, the children are segregated into classes.

Gosh, I don’t know this Orlet dude, but I sure feel sorry for him. Don’t you?

And just cuz you guys are super great!

Whoooooo Are You?