Dear Ms. Kardashian:
Please excuse me for only having second or maybe third-hand knowledge of all things Kardashian, but I don’t currently own a TV because I thought that mine was broken, so I gave it away to someone who works in my building. Turns out the darned thing works perfectly well and is now sitting in a church basement being used in a Sunday school. And I can’t ask for it back because it isn’t the thing to do.
This means that I miss the shows that I used to watch like “60 Minutes,” when I was being intellectual, and the “Real World” and MTV when I wasn’t. So that leaves keeping my ear to the ground, eavesdropping and the Internet, which is where I watch clips of “American Idol” and the like if I am to keep current.
And it was there (on the net and not on American Idol) that I learned that you were in the family way for the second time. The best thing I can say is that at least it is with the same man so that your children will have the same baby daddy, which is getting to be rare among Gen. X or whatever your generation is now called.
The question is why are you so proud when you aren’t even, pardon the word, married? Getting knocked up is no great feat because women, including the truly challenged, have been doing it for ages. The trick is in getting and staying married for more than a few months or even one or two years.
I mean you must know what this person is like when he is mad, did any of his past madness lead to a trip down to the precinct, how he feels about his parents, future goals and how he handles money to name a few and not just what he looks like in his undies and how many tattoos he has.
It’s like the Japanese say, “Before you are married look with both eyes and hear with both ears. After you are married, hear with only one ear and look with only one eye.” And the Japanese were right.
And you have to know someone pretty well before going and making babies with him, though the practice did make Ricki Lake and Jerry Springer and their sponsors pretty rich. You might say you don’t need marriage. Well, you might not, but your children do. Like former vice-President Dan Quayle once implied, marriage is the best social security for children. The late, great anthropologist, Margaret Mead, said it too, and Dan Quayle and Margaret Mead were right because offspring from two-parent homes usually spend more time in school and less time in jail. Besides, you are (sort of) a role model, so the next time you say you have good news let’s hear that there’s going to be another Kardashian wedding in the future and not another bun in the oven.
Someone who is never getting her TV back,
Even though I taught for many years, that doesn’t mean I have the courage to venture out on Black Friday, or on most other days during the holiday shopping season, either for that matter. Maybe it’s my age, maybe it’s from reading too many Huffington Post crime articles online, but there’s just too much that could go wrong. I could battle for a parking space like my car and I are pieces on a “Battleship” game. I could forget where I parked it and wander to and fro searching for the nondescript Toyota for hours, or I could end up in a nosedive with another shopper as we both go for the last item on display.
And with this year’s crop of subversives like the Walmart shopper with the pepper spray, the near Waffle Iron Riot and the mall shooting. I’d rather watch endless loops of “Roseanne” with electrodes glued to my head. But for those who must venture out, I have created the “Holiday Shoppers’ Survival Guide.”
Pre-Shopping Prep: Planning for the event starts in May or June when most merchants start eyeballing their holiday decorations. After drinking some protein shakes, start with jogging around the mall and around the aisles. It should be well under way in August when the first store hangs its first ornament and tree. You may want to take ballet to learn about leaps, twirl jetes, port de bras and other moves in order to snare that first toy or even a waffle iron before twirling and leaping back before security descends upon you. It may also help to take Krav Maga, Jiu Jitsu or any other self-defense program to deal with anyone who wants to put you in a half Nelson or to get yourself out of one.
Attire: Dress is important all year round but no more so than during Black Friday and other days in the holiday shopping season. For extra heavy shopping days, invest in army gear with a gas mask, to have protection against any copycat pepper spray incidents. Women may don stilettos, though I recommend army boots or sturdy jogging shoes for quick exits from seamy characters or events.
Transportation: Before venturing out, I recommend renting an army tank, if you don’t already have one. Making turns and parallel parking may be a little hard at first, but it will almost guarantee you a parking space or two, and will keep other drivers at bay because they know that you can always roll over them.
Defensive Measures: Being hauled away in a black and white shouldn’t a problem so long as you obey all turn signals, say please and thank you and are doing your best to bolster our sagging economy.
The Free Jonathan Pollard movement is starting to sound as old as drumbeat in the distance. But why shouldn’t Pollard, who was convicted of passing “secrets” along to Israel our ally, be released?
As a naval intelligence officer, he came across information that the State Department had that Syria, Iraq, Libya and Iran were developing nuclear and chemical weapons to use against Israel, so Pollard did what any reasonable person would do; he passed the information along to the Israeli government that they were legally entitled to anyway.
After the story broke, he and his wife tried to seek asylum in the Israeli Embassy in Washington. Although they were originally accepted, they were later turned out into the waiting arms of the FBI. Although it isn’t my style to publicly criticize Israel, I think the Israeli Embassy should have granted Pollard and his wife asylum rather than using them as pawns and hoisting them into the waiting arms of the FBI.
Pollard was accused of treason for passing along information to an ally and given a life sentence. Clinton was supposed to pardon him but reneged on his agreement. Yet George W. pardoned those convicted of embezzlement, income tax evasion and falsifying firearms records. Obama pardoned those convicted of offenses like selling drugs and moving stolen property across state lines, so you’d think someone could pardon Pollard for passing information along to an ally in the name of self-preservation. Besides, Pollard is ill and needs to spend his dying days in peace rather than continue to be used as an example.
I called the White House and asked President Obama to pardon him and will email as well. Here’s hoping you will do something, too.
In “7 Lessons in Self-Publishing I Learnt in the 7th Grade,” Mainak Dhar takes the reader through a journey as to how to get a being’s work out there no matter what.
He writes about putting your best foot forward, making things visually appealing and using social media and kindle. But he skips the most relevant part, which is to pen something so relevant and fabulous that it jumps off the page and hits the reader right between the eyes, as if a bull’s-eye were painted there.
Mark Twain didn’t use social media. Neither did any of the Bronte sisters or “Harry Potter” author, J.K. Rowling. Even though I am no fan of the series, I know the whole story about how she brought her baby to a café to keep warm while writing the first installment. The initial publication was small because no one including Rowling expected it to take off like it did. The rest, being the stuff of which publishing and movie history is made, has made her one of the richest women in England. And it’s not because she and her their publisher engaged marketing scheme per se, it’s because she wrote something with enough mass appeal that success had no choice but to follow. The same for Twain and the Bronte sisters or anyone of that ilk. It was the craftsmanship, not the marketing.
Dhar included links to his online books with pictures of the covers no less and his photo at the end, leading the reader to the way like road signs to a gala event. I clicked on the link “Vimana” and perused the opening lines.
West India 13000 BC
“The old hunter cursed his son for what would have been at least the tenth time that day. He needed help to carry back the deer he had killed and with the darkness soon to be upon them, he wanted to get back to the relative safety of their group before the Sun retired for the night.”
Now, I am no fan of science fiction, but I did muddle through Ray Bradbury’s “The Martian Chronicles” in high school and still remember a certain passage that scared the bejeezus out of me. I got through the “Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy” last summer without depositing it in the library’s return bin days early, but I know that it’s going to be hard for me to get through something with phrases like “for what would have been at least the tenth time that day” without wondering why it wasn’t at least like the eleventh time, dead caribou and retiring suns.
Dhar, however, was happy because after enough of this stuff, his book “Zombiestan” ranked near the top 1,000 on Amazon. Had that been me, I would have hoisted my computer out the window and enrolled in a vocational training program.
Of course getting the word out is important and that’s why we advertise, but in the end, there’s no substitute for quality, never has been, never will be.
Like many others, I know that the chestal region has many purposes. Though not being in the medical field, I googled it and founda web site talked about milk production. It left me hanging, so I have invented some of my own. This chestal region has more purposes than the giving of milk. It also protects the heart and helps companies like Victoria’s Secret, Warner’s and Maidenform sell brassieres and things. They are also decorative and can be made bigger or smaller with exercise, proteins and sometimes the help of a good surgeon as a last resort.
But what they are not for is to feed young ones in public unless you are a cow in a public place like the Gentle Barn. This is why I am so perplexed that breastfeeding mom, Natalie Hegedus, is so perplexed that a judge asked her to put hers away when she went to feed her kid in his courtroom.
If the judge, like most people wanted to view them, he wouldn’t have become a judge. He would have become an ob/gynie.
Frankly, I side with the judge on that one, and I always hate it when a woman whips one out to feed her young in public (excluding the women’s RR in Macy’s and Nordstrom’s, that have couches for this.) That’s why some gynecological genius got the idea for a breast pump. Your kid is hungry, you can always prepare in advance and whip a bottle out instead. Some of them are very decorative and even have panda bears and gingerbread men on them.
But I hate it when someone always has to come along and make a point about how it is natural. Lots of things are natural. Trimming the toenails is natural, but you don’t see anyone doing it in public except maybe in certain Occupy Wall Street camps and on some el trains in Chicago. Flatulence is natural, too, but you don’t see anyone curring loose in public and expect it to go unnoticed, and the same for the alimentary canal and other natural functions, too. Besides, there is something contrary about hijacking something that is supposed to be sexy and turning it into something that is utilitarian and not expecting anyone to sit up and take note.
So ladies, please leave your tatas covered unless you are out for a night on the town, are at the beach and want to show some cleavage or are traipsing down the runway of a Victoria’s Secret fashion show. Otherwise, they are yours to have and behold and not for public viewing.
Once upon a time, college was a place for the more hoi polloi. Sure, the lower class could also attend, but we expected certain behaviors from our college students, for we considered them to be the bearer of the torch, the ones who would produce advances in science, literature and medicine. We did not expect them to murder each other, rape one another or riot when they do not get their way.
But those were the good old days.
Now they are just like the other barbarians who do whatever their cerebral cortexes desire. The latest was a riot when Penn State coach for his role in the 2002 cover up for his now retired his assistant who was accused of sexual abuse. Rather than going to the police, Parerno went to his bosses instead and for this, he was fired, though his bosses should have been as well for their role in the cover up.
What is shocking is not only that this man was allowed to keep his post but that he has any support in the community. Yesterday night, thousands of Penn State co-bullies took to the streets chanting, “We want Joe!” And they didn’t stop there. They flipped over a news van and kicked out its windows to express their emotions.
Maybe it relates to the overall drop in high school students’ ACT and SAT scores, which could also relate to a drop in judgment.
Earlier in the day, Penn State quarterback Paul Jones told the Associated Press that Paterno wept as be told his team that he planned to retire.
“All the clips you’ve seen of him, you never saw him break down and cry,” the quarterback said, “and he was crying the whole time today.”
Probably because he got busted more than over any harm he caused. Narcissists are just like that. It’s their agenda front, line and center. I don’t know what’s more shocking, that an adult would take advantage of others who have less authority and power or that he has any support.
Someone should take an MRI scan of these college students’ brains, provided they have any.
Make no bones about it. My mission here on this earth is threefold: to blog, to annoy and to breathe in as much air as I can before expelling a bunch of hot air for a speech. There are some others, but I can’t reveal them now, either because I haven’t thought of them yet or they are too personal.
And that is why when I get annoyed, I take action. I must. It is part of my constitution, my mission, my raison d’etre, aside from the other aforementioned missions. And that’s why I am here now, to give a grammar lesson, if you will about the language of a flotilla. I was an English teacher in my former life and have a credential that isn’t set to expire for another year, so here goes:
Vocabulary Word # 1: Freedom Fighter, n. (Free’dom- Figh’ter) A Freedom Fighter is a terrorist aiming to free the Israelis of their land so they can move in and set up camps where they can lounge around and procreate.
# 2: Flotilla Aid, n. (flo’tilla – aid) A ship filled with things to aid the Palestinians in removing the Israelis from land that the UN partitioned in 1948 and/ or that the Israelis won in wars waged by the Arabs. When you see the words “Flotilla Aid” think weapons, not pampers, figs and scented soap.
It’s one helluva misnomer.
# 3: Passive Activist, n. (pas’sive – ac’tiv’ist) Is a subspecies of human who sits on his arse (passive) before launching a rocket to kill those he doesn’t like (activist) after blaming them for his arse-sitting position in life. See terrorist, stooge, liar and all around goomba.
# 4: Occupation n. (occ’u-pa-shion) The land that the Israelis lawfully live on that the Arabs want. Synonymous with to lawfully live on.
Word # 5: Terrorist (ter’or-ist) One whose job it is to main, kill and destroy others after blaming them for taking land that was partitioned by the UN or won in a war then blaming them for other all-around miseries in life like unemployment and not enough good stuff for the hookah. (See a nimrod, crank and goomba.)
There will be no quiz on these words because they are in the media all the time especially in online rags like the Huffington Post and in papers like the New York Times and the Guardian.