By way of introduction, and a little of that other shit on the side.
Or Good afternoon, or evening. Well, it's morning somewhere in the world, so let's start there, and go forward. If it's late enough for it to be Happy Hour, feel free to raise a glass for me! I love me some Guinness, and a Half-and-Half (also called a Black and Tan) wouldn't be amiss.
However, first, we have our provisos-- and there are several:
*If uppity women offend you, you're going to want to use that back button up there, in the top of your browser.
*If women with strong opinions bother you, ditto.
*Leave if you've got a thing against Pagans, free-thinkers, non-Christians, people who think Atheists are OK, questioners, seekers and all persons rabble-rouser: go now!
*Tattoos and body piercings don't make me an ex-con, worthless or less than you, thank you.
*If you feel that disagreeing with you is persecuting you: leave and take your stupid with you.
*If it's not OK, that I'm pro-abortion, pro-choice, pro-Women, just let yourself out, and close the door behind you. I choose to Trust Women with their own bodies. (RIP Dr. Tiller)
*I probably know more about your religion than you do, so throwing your book at me in a half-assed attempt to convert me won't work. I'm way past that shit. You can't browbeat me into it, either.
*I am cynical, sardonic, introverted and empathic. I am too smart for my own good, and very sensitive to the world around me. Don’t think those things go together? You've obviously never met me! So, if dry humour-- you know, the gallows kind-- offends your sensibilities, you won't want to stay around.
*I use profanity. One of my favourite words is fuck. I love it, it's a multi-purpose word! There's your warning.
*I am bisexual, and therefore a member of the LGBTQ community; if you don't like it, fuck off! It will come up, it's important shit.
*I am a cyclical depressive. That means sometimes I'm going to talk about being in the dark of my mind, so deep that there is no way out. I'm also a women, living in the US, to I'm bombarded with how I'm never going to be skinny, perfect, pretty enough (in addition to the baggage we all have from our growing up years) That means I'll talk about bad body images, and what my inner peanut gallery says. If you're triggered by those things, I will warn you, I'll always put "Trigger Warning" on. If you think mental illness means I need to get closer to god, or that I'm making shit up: Fuck you, and fuck you and Fuck You!
If you treat people the way you want to be treated, if you're able to shut up and listen, and occasionally get ranty about things you're passionate about: You're welcome to stay as long as you like! I don't care if we can't agree on the colour of the fucking sky! Just as long as we can both say, "well, I see where you're coming from, however..." and mean it with all of our manners and civility. I'm more than willing to STFU and listen to you rant, from time to time, too.
Now we've got that out of the way, back to the introduction.
I used to be a prolific writer of all things logical and politically precise. I worked hard to present both sides of a debate, to present all the facts, all information needed for my readers to make an informed decision. I kept my own politics out of the discussion, preferring to let my readers, my listeners make their own choices, just as I had done. It was always fun for me, finding the balance... if there was one. I wouldn't write too much about things that were one sided, like the RCC's baby raping rings. I can't justify that shit, and wouldn't try; some things don’t' balance.
Then the 2008 Presidential campaign happened.
Wow! Did it happen!
Full disclosure: I was registered Independent at that time, and I voted for Cynthia McKinney. Yes, I know she's not all there, but neither is McCain (his record was too long and full of shit!), and I wasn't sure about Mr. Obama (his record wasn't long enough for my obsessive need to research and understand). I'd have voted for Hillary, though.
I watched people panic en mass. It was amazing! People I had thought to be relatively decent, albeit overly religious, or overly conservative, or even overly weird. But generally decent people. They all threw their hands into the air and began to run around screaming about the end of the world.
I hoped no one would harm him, the new President, nor his family. I barely remember Hinckley shooting Reagan back in '81. I was barely three then, but I remember sitting on the floor with my Dad, and the way my parents acted in that moment. I'm sure for those who remember Kennedy's assassination, it was a thousand times worse. Not something I want to experience. Knowing there were (and still are, to my horror!) people who would harm the President merely for the colour of his skin appals me, so I worried for him and his family.
Speaking of bigots, don’t' even get me started on the tea-bagger movement! No, I won't call them the Tea Party. They chose Tea-Baggers as their moniker before they knew what it was, and if they really don't like it, they should have used their Google-Fu (or asked their grand kids) and looked into it. For the record, tea-bagging can be fun as hell with the right gent! Yeah, I have a thing about these tea-baggers. But that's not for now.
About that time my parents' marriage disintegrated. They were married just about 30 years. To this day I have no idea why my mother left; Dad doesn't know either. He never did get an answer. She just decided she wanted to get with someone else, I guess. I don't know. So I was helping my Dad navigate divorce court, and the afterwards. Having been in a marriage that died during W's wars (no, the war in Iraq wasn't the reason, merely the impetus for me to get the fuck out while the getting was good!), I was able to help Dad get through the first bit. Even if you know your marriage is fucking dead, it's hard as hell to get through the first few weeks.
During the election itself I was making plans to move to Arizona with the love of my life. He and I moved in together the 14th of November, 2008, and have been enjoying the ride ever since. Moving almost three-thousand miles and starting a new life was crazy, but we did it. I'd follow that man to the ends of the earth-- even Antarctica! (And I hate the cold)
Just in time to see the new President get sworn in, and the GOP to shit the bed! That's even before 2010's election and Speaker Boner took over and started crying all over the place.
I tried so hard to be balanced, honest and open, and yet not call them every single name I could think of.
It didn't work very well. So I stopped writing. They reminded me of when my kids were toddlers; you know how it is, the throwing themselves on the floor, having a fit about something. That's what those GOP'ers remind me of, and if I was their mother... Better for them that I'm not.
I couldn't be logical when writing about panicking white, rich men, desperate to get their power back. I couldn't write kindly about legislation designed to strip women of the right to complete sovereignty over their bodies. I just don’t' have it in me to be that blind. I'm a Libra, not Lady Justice. I couldn't be happy for the fat-cat bankers getting money when people were losing their homes. I couldn't write about Cheney being anything other than a war-criminal.
It was my policy not to write anything overtly negative about a sitting President, or VP. I felt they had a tough enough job that I didn't want to add to it-- even in an oblique way. I would merely state "I disagree with Stance B" and leave it lay. No, I wasn't and am not, arrogant enough to believe that anyone close to the President has ever read anything I've written (well, maybe an email or letter about some piece of shit legislation I wanted Vetoed, or a thanks for being a decent dude).
I can't be that way, any more.
This even handed, mild mannered, quiet Gamer Girl is fed the fuck up! I am Fed Up! I am tired of hearing people cry because they don't like the way the country's going, but they're too busy going to church on Sunday and getting sanctified to do anything other than bitch about brown people.
I'm tired of Wall Street being in the pocket of Congress, or perhaps, Congress is bought and paid for by Wall Street. That relationship is so incestuous that even they don't know where they end and the other guy begins.
I got tired of hearing, "If you don't like it, leave!"
So, I decided to get ranty.
So, I decided to get ranty.
I'm a Socialist. It's not a dirty word. It's just the way it is.
I love the US. I was born in Kalamazoo, Michigan for crying out loud! It doesn't get much more white-bread than Michigan. So I'm not going anywhere.
This blog will be a little of this, and a little of that. Some profanity and poetry. Fiction, non-fiction and occasional rants against whatever I feel like ranting about.
Expect Romney-bot to get ranted on and Senator Frothy, too (That'd be Santorum. If you're not familiar with him, please go to www.spreadingsantorum.com. It's not for the faint of stomach). Newtie will get ranted on, as will my Governor, Leather Faced Brewer. I'll even throw in some of my observations about the fashion disasters I see down here. Tucson, Arizona is a fashion nightmare!
I'll probably bitch about the credit card system, how little education is valued in the south and how much I love chocolate and enjoy cooking. I read voraciously, love news, hockey (Go Pens!) and hate basketball. I belly dance, love Irish music, techno, opera, Euro-thrash, punk, ska and electric rock (pretty much any music). I love bad B-movies, and documentaries. I play video games, shooters, RPG's, adventure and puzzles, in addition to my MMO. As you can see, I've a lot of disparate parts.
Like I said, RedHeaded Confetti