How to Unlock a Door in 6 Easy Steps
I see dumb people :-o
I was browsing the net looking for suggestions for common household repairs. I found this:
http://www.ehow.com/how_2989_unlock-door.html
There's rosemary; that's for rememberance. There is pansies; that's for thoughts.
(Shakespeare, Hamlet IV.v)
Dramatis Personae:
Ophelia ... Lunatic Queen
A Clockwork Orange Happier ... Lunatic King
Beatrice ... Ophelia's daughter
Pussy ... cat familiar
I see dumb people :-o
I was browsing the net looking for suggestions for common household repairs. I found this:
http://www.ehow.com/how_2989_unlock-door.html
Venereal Disease:
Hey it’s the 80’s, I’m gay, and I have AIDS! Yes, the effeminate gay man of the 80’s must have sex with lots of partners, do lots of drugs, and have those tell-tale purplish spots which denote “AIDS victim.” Most of these movies have some sort of agenda (you can’t catch AIDS from shaking hands, gay people are people too, hip/intelligent/cool heterosexuals who drink wine and eat cheese and read Whitman love gays, etc.) Ironically while the message is ostensibly pro-gay (whoever heard of an anti-gay filmmaker?), the plethora of gay AIDS victims on big and small screens does nothing but propagate the erroneous and harmful conclusion that AIDS is the God-sent plague of the gay community. Yeah, sure the dying gay man and all his grieving friends and his once-estranged-but-now-close family members garner mucho tears and the occasional Emmy/Oscar, but at what cost to the image of the much beleaguered gay community? Does is ever occur to these directors/actors/producers/writers that one of the reasons “mainstream America” continues to see gay people as “other” is because the mainstream media portrays them as strange and sick and promiscuous? With this image of gayness in the minds of the heterosexual majority, no wonder the fight for gay rights/parenting/marriage is an uphill battle. I mean what normal person would want to encourage the state to give custody of small children to an AIDS infested, perverted home? The Hollywood stereotype may be good for the box-office, but it’s a death knell for Gay America.
Hey it’s the 1800’s, I’m gay, nobody loves me, AND I have syphilis! (see above)
Costumes:
Leather and feathers and glitter, oh my!
Gay men love Divas:
Hey, I’m gay and I love [blank] (insert strong or masculine or drug-addicted actress here)!
The Lisp:
Explain the lisp thing, please! I’ve known lots of gay men and not one of them had a lisp.
Okay I thought I was done for today, but I logged onto MSN and found this horror staring me in the face. What a travesty of justice! Why does injustice still shock me? Perhaps, it shouldn’t; you may say, “Ophelia, you’re old to remember O.J., Monica-gate, and other incredulous headline-grabbing mockeries of all that is sane and good and --- aaargh! Hang on while I light another cigarette and drain that bottle of Jameson’s --- Maybe, I should not be surprised by American idiocy, but the day I am no longer outraged is the day I will have discovered the oblivion of heroin addiction. But for now….
Following the very first public accusation of Michael Jackson, I said, “He wrote songs like “Thriller” and “Billie Jean” and “Beat It”. He sang with the great Sir Paul. He inspired numerous Weird Al parodies. He’s an artist, a beautiful mind. He loves children. Such a man could never molest a child.” Then I got therapy and he was accused again and I said, “OMG, of course he’s guilty. I mean he wrote songs like “Thriller” and “Billie Jean” and “Beat It”. He sang with Paul McCartney. He inspired numerous Weird Al parodies. He claims to love children so much that he feels compelled to sleep with them. He must be a pedophile.”
And like all right-minded, opinionated people who are seldom, if ever, wrong, I am dumbfounded at the number of seemingly sane people who don’t get it. Look at him. Listen to him. What do you think happened to McCauly Culkin? Key has a clue; you mouth-breathing, knuckle-dragging supporters of pedophilia need to get one, too.
Am I being too harsh on MJ’s supporters? Surely they’re just gullible or mislead or (God forbid) optimists? No, they’re idiots.
They read or watch news articles about the chef who saw it all, and they respond by accusing him of being French and a chef and conclude, “the witness is obviously lying, I mean he’s a Frog, he cooks for a living. Duh!”
They point out that the accusing family is poor and trying to get money. Clearly, if the accusing family were rich, their attempts to make Jacko pay for their child’s pain and suffering (which WILL last a life-time), would be regarded as “just”: the rich family just wants justice; the poor family needs money.
They say, “MJ is being oppressed because he’s a rich, African-American.” This doesn’t deserve a response, but I’m mad so here goes:
& MJ’s not an African-American by any definition of the word; he’s a former child star who does not now and never has lived in the real world; I would be flabbergasted if he ever experienced racism
& One cannot “oppress” the rich and powerful. It defies logic and semantics. “Oppression” is what the rich and powerful do to the poor and weak, you dumbasses.
The alternative to the preceding would be, “The Man is persecuting MJ because he’s a …” Also bullshit because
& “The Man” no longer exists; welcome to the 21s century.
& “Persecution” is an interesting choice of words; it conjures images of witch-trials and lynching, rather than the lawful pursuit of justice against a powerful and rich pedophile which this trial should have been.
& For the “because” clause, see above.
Well, the verdict has been rendered and the pajama-wearing freak of nature who cries more than I do when I’ve missed a dose of my happy pills is now free to return to Neverland (you know that place where the lost boys of J. M. Barnes’ Peter Pan await the return of their fearless leader), Jacko’s defenders can return to La La Land, where nothing bad ever happens to anyone, and I can go back to nursing the rage-induced migraine-from-hell. Thanks, MJ jury.
I'm on vacation, dammit! Why, oh why, do I have to work? Because, "vacation" means something different in the academic world than it does in the real world. In the academic world, "vacation" means you have to answer emails from disgruntled students who did "F" quality work and unrealistically expected an "A" for their efforts. In the academic world, "vacation" means participating in grade appeals.
Scenario: student X has three grades (70, 85, 83) which average out to 79. X wants Lit. Prof. to giver her extra credit for writing a critique of her preacher's Sunday sermon. Lit. Prof. balks at giving academic credit for attending church.
Question: what happens next?
A) Lit. Prof. stands by her decision, thus preserving her own integrity and that of the entire liberal arts community. X accepts responsibility for a well-earned "C" and moves on with her life.
B) Lit. Prof. stands by her decision, thus preserving her own integrity and that of the entire liberal arts community. X appeals her grade because "God" told her to or "mommy" told her to or "inner Satanic voice" told her to.
C) After numerous post-semester emails from a class populated by the worst students in 7 years of teaching, Lit. Prof. has a complete nervous breakdown and eye-twitchingly revamps her syllabus such that it excludes extra-credit (honestly deserving students be damned!); includes more mind-numbing tests (resulting in even more pointless grades which reflect absolutely nothing about students' potential, effort, and intellectual prowess); adds more readings about lesbians, satanists, moral terror, sexual imagery, and Marxism; and takes a vacation (which, as noted above, isn't actually a vacation by any standard definition of the word). Ah, academia!!!
One day I'll get the courage to enter the real-world work force. I would be a good secratary/accountant/personal assistant. After all, I did all of these jobs working for my dad as a teen and 20-something (10 years experience). I can also wait tables at a country club (3 years experience), prostitute my body (17 years of an active sex life), do psychological counseling (15 years on this side of the couch), and flip burgers (no experience, but how hard can it be?). Of course the downside to all of these professions is I wouldn't get my summers off.
I want to be a cat. I took that animal-test thing and came out as a wolf.
Key did a lot of fussing and called me a newbie and accused me of being impolite. So here's another list (this one actually conforms to the original theme).
Ten Things I Have Not Done, But Intend to Do Before I Die.
Defend my dissertation. The defense should take place some time between July 8th and 12th, which means I can die any time after that, but not before (from this blog to God's ears).
Subject A Clock Work Orange Happier to my will. This may take a while.
Publish a fully annotated critical version of the complete works of Margaret Cavendish.
Balance my checkbook. If you would like to contribute to The Balance Ophelia's Checkbook by Adding More Money to It Foundation, I accept PayPal.
Give my pussy a bath. She's very dirty, and is starting to smell. Besides she's all matted and stuff.
Plant a garden. The only truly happy memory of my maternal grandfather is of working in his giant garden, drinking tea from a jar, feeling very small walking through rows of corn.
Visit the Hemp Capital of the world: Amsterdam. Be a judge in the High Times Cannabis Cup.
Single-handedly reform the Republican Party. Granted this will be a monumental task, and may take some time, but it must done or America will suffer under the tyranny of so-called conservatives who have mistaken moralistic oppression for political conservatism.
Start my very own self-sufficient artist commune. Writers, poets, painters, sculptors, musicians. It will be an orgy of creativity. We'll starve together and live a monk-like existence. It'll be great!!!!
Achieve nirvana; figure it all out; detach from everything; fully connect with God and all existence. This will of course have to be the final thing I do before I die , as I will be pure being at that point and will have completely detached from a world of action.
Key is fussing. I've just returned from battling the evil creepy crawly in my bathroom (or to be precise the parallel universe in my bathroom closet).
Ten Places (real or not) I Will Never, Ever Visit Under Any Circumstances Whatsoever (in no particular order):
There's a creepy crawly in my bathroom. I hate creepy crawlies. My husband is asleep, so he's no help. BTW, it's noon here in exile. Where have all the cowboys gone?
DH and I were pillow-talking last night when it hit me: RSC is the ideal weight loss regimen for women. Let me break it down for you ...
Ramen noodles: clocking in at low 190 calories per serving, ramen is also a good source of iron, which we all know is essential to athletic performance (inlcuding marathon sex) and relieving depression. Since depression can and usually does lead to overeating, iron is an important weight fighting nutrient. Add the occassional canned green vegetable and/or canned protein source, and you may actually have a balanced meal. Of course the best thing about ramen is that it's cheap, easy, and requires absolutely no culinary skills.
Sex: this is one of my favorite activities -- it's fun and it burns calories. I refer my gentle readers to Calories we burn whilst having sex! According to She Vamp, sex with a man with a normal-sized penis while balancing on a barstool burns 42 calories. By adding a faked orgasm and supressing your frustration and rage (the result of faking it), you can chalk up another 173 burned calories. The great thing about sex as exercise is that's it's cheap (if you don't pay for it -- and what woman has to?), doesn't feel like work (unless you're faking orgasms), and is readily available. A word on "availability": if you don't currently have a partner you CAN substitute masturbation. The drawback of masturbation is that it doesn't burn as many calories, so you'll have to do more of it and do it more often than intercourse -- which for some women may not be a drawback at all, but I don't want to think about that right now. To achieve maximum benefits on the RSC program, I recommend some form of sex at least four times a week for 15-30 minutes per workout.
Chocolate: (note: this is purely my addittion; DH stopped at sex -- go figure!) No diet regimen is complete without at least one indulgence. Although this regimen has both sex and chocolate, sex has the added benefit of burning calories. Therefore sex is not, strictly speaking, an "indulgence." Chocolate, however, is just for pleasure; it is just for you; it is dessert; it is ecstasy; it is a great compliment to any bubble bath and goes well with coffee, wine, and strawberries. If you are one of the rare few who hates chocolate, get help!
In conclusion, you CAN have your ramen and eat it, too. Moderation is a good thing, but sex and chocolate are best enjoyed in excess.
Peace to you all.
(This is my first blog -- If you must comment, please be kind.)
... so little time. The following is my things to do list: