25 Things to Love About Being American

A Bunch of  Things to Love About Being American (in  no particular order):

1) It’s hot here in Southern California today (not as bad as some parts of the country have been, to be sure. Hey, global warming doubters? Suck it): I’m not required to wear head to toe covering. I CAN if I want to, but it’s also acceptable to be in public in shorts, tank top and flip flops (Yes, Mom, I showered, did my hair and applied mascara first).

2) Hot dogs

3) I’m relieving the heat with a Dark & Stormy (DARK rum and ginger beer). Well, sort of. I don’t have Gosling’s Black Seal Rum, which is the quill for Dark & Stormies.

4) I can say “Fuck the Yankees” without censorship. I could also say the same thing about the IRS, Republican ticket and the Dallas Cowboys, if I so choose. 

5) The tire store was open today. Technically, if the business was hardcore “Christian” , it would have been closed today.(seriously, if you’re going to shut down for the Christian Sabbath – Sunday – but give money to organizations that promote intolerance, your “Christianity” deserves to be questionable. Christ didn’t have limits). I got some necessities for the home, my lunch for the week and  accomplished some stuff because of the still putative secular nature of our society.

6) Immigrants who have brought their food, God bless them: burritos (although I don’t eat them), avgolemono soup, bubble tea, kappa maki sushi with avocado (it’s cucumber and avocado. I like it.  A lot). Ropa viejai. It’s all good.

7) Shark Week on Discovery Channel.

8) “The Daily Show With Jon Stewart”

9) www.dognewsteam.com. Dog News. It parodies Fox News and in America, nobody gets locked up. They have an ongoing series called “Stump” that parodies the Presidential election process. Pussy Riot just got locked up in Russia for mocking Putin. How long do you think Dog News would have lasted?

10) I’m 51, unmarried and it’s okay.  Actually, I’m renting from a great, laid-back lady and her dog and cat love me. Life is good.

11) I can get a drink of clean water just by turning on the faucet.

12) My most involved discussion today was divided into the relative merits of Tide Boost v. Oxi-Clean and the Tide Pen v. Shout Wipes (Shout Wipes rule).

13) My neighborhood isn’t  getting shelled by government forces. It’s not getting shelled by rebel forces. It’s not getting shelled, period.

14) Bacon. No limits (and yes, according to Steve Kamb, www.nerdfitness.com , it’s on the Paleo Diet). 

15) I can live anywhere I want in the USA. I chose Southern Cal. 

16) We get to choose what newspapers to read, TV channels to watch, food to eat and teams to support. Suck it, Yankees, Giants (football), Rays, Cowboys, Lakers, Jets (NY or Winnipeg) Canadiens (Habs), Heat and especially the fuckin’ Yankees.

17) Even if the tax rate goes back up to 39.6 (Clinton-era rates. They worked, by the  way), I can afford to support myself. 

18) Classic rock radio stations. And if I get sick of listening to them, there are about 10,000 other different things I can listen to FOR FREE on the radio  (not including Sirius).

19) I’m free to eat barbecued ribs/chops/pig.

20) If I get sick of  being a Congregational Protestant, I can choose to follow another faith without government interference.

21) If I decided to drive to Disney World in Orlando, FL (Disneyland being about 2 miles down the road), I can do it without having to get approval from any government or even have papers other than a driver’s license, registration and proof of insurance (if the state requires it). It’s A Small World. We are free to move about the country (except for the unintended consequences of SB 1070 in Arizona. Hey, Jan Brewer, Governor of Arizona, to enforce your stupid fucking law without racial profiling, I’LL have to carry my passport in case I’m stopped in Sedona. You fucking stupid bitch, you. And that’s another thing I love about America. I can call the Governor of a sovereign state  a fucking stupid bitch without official consequence). I could leave the country if I so chose. Hey, Rush Limbaugh: you SAID you’d move to Costa Rica if Affordable Health Care was upheld. Need help packing”

22) State fairs that experiment with the limits of deep frying, even if I don’t indulge. What[‘s his name, Abel _____ in Texas who deep fries damned near everything for the Texas State Fair?  Go for it, Dude.  You’re earning a damned fine living.

23) We got a fucking SUV on Mars. Yeah, Bitch, MARS.

24) It is written into the Constitution that the sins of the father will not be held against the offspring (Madoffs, Mansons, Bushes). It’s also written into the Constitution that nobody foreign born will be President (and that was specifically to screw over Alexander Hamilton, the guy on the $10 bill, born in Jamaica). Hey birthers: He proved it. Shut the fuck up.

25) I can write a list like this without interference. 

The Viral Post

The first clue that I was coming down with something should have been the iced tea craving.

Never mind that I had felt like there was a golf ball under my jaw. In the past, I have been the queen of over-reaction (I have a zit. LEPROSY!!!!!!AAAAAUUUUUGGGGHHHHHH!!!!!). However, I like to think I’m much cooler now. Okay. Swollen lymph node. No sweat. It’ll pass. A couple of friends that I’d talked to ON THE PHONE were ill with some kind of upper respiratory infection  and  I had just seen the tail end of “Mr. Skeffington” (Bette Davis. Claude Rains. ‘Nuff said) and Fanny Skeffington is “ravaged” by diphtheria.

Fanny Skeffington before

Fanny Skeffington After. Ew.

Not knowing the effects, I had looked it up on Wikipedia and the golf ball in the jaw materialized hours later. I told my brain not to be such an idiotic wuss and knock it off, for God’s sake. I ain’t catchin’ nuthin’ from nobody. Because I said so.

Okay, so the iced tea was the second clue. Denial is powerful.

I found myself waking up in the middle of the night covered in sweat (not unusual: it’s in the mid-90s here and not cooling off at night, I’m in menopause) with a raw throat and a uvula that felt like Muhammed Ali had used it for a speed bag. Okay, I was probably snoring. Again. And the golf ball was gone, but every lymph node I owned was screaming “Red Alert.”

Nah. I’m not sick. I haven’t been exposed. I don’t think. It’s just from the way I’ve been sleeping.

Still craving the iced tea…and water…it's HOT out, I am NOT sick...and avgolemono soup (Greek chicken soup).

I can’t get sick, I thought. I’m protected by a flu shot. They always boost my immunity. Colds? Flu? Pshaw. I am mighty.

The germs are mightier. Little fuckers.

I rummaged in my purse and found Advil Cold and Sinus. Apparently, I needed Advil Cold, Sinus and Black Death. No good: I heard teeny tiny laughter (think Horton hearing a Who. A nasty, vicious cheerleading bitch Who)

Time for the heavy artillery. Time for NyQuil.

Denis Leary referred to NyQuil’s flavor as “Green Death.” Mucinex has an equal number that while it’s not green, it tastes every bit as filthy as NyQuil. And it is a shade of blue not found in Nature (Merry Berry, my ass). However, they work.  I don’t want to know how.

As previously mentioned,  we have a heat wave here in Southern California (go ahead and gloat, rest of US. We got ours. We also had 2 moderate earthquakes within 12 hours of each other. Shake N Bake! Oh shut up: you’re jealous because I got there first). I found myself lying in bed the other night, after downing the Blue Death (sorry, Denis) and thinking, “I have a fever and the land has a fever. When I am ill, the land is ill…I AM MOTHER EARTH!”

New theory: Jim Morrison thought he was the Lizard King. I don’t think he was into mushrooms, LCD, heroin or anything like that. Mr. Mojo Rising must been into the NyQuil. Did anyone check the Lizard King for a green tongue?

Of course, there is always the Overprotective Parent at work. One sneeze and he/she is demanding that your desk be moved so that your bourgeois germs are not carried home to Versailles to infect precious little Disney, his/her daughter (Conceived in vitro with twin brother Walter. Couldn’t you just vomit?) After all, little Disney is just getting over the sniffles herself.

I’ve got news: little Disney is a biological warfare weapon, as is her runny-nosed brother. They’re in daycare, a veritable critical mass of microbes. You, OP, are immune because you are a carrier monkey.  You are Typhoid Douchebag.

And just to make it official, we have the “productive cough.” Bronchial phlegm, thick and salty. My favorite.
And Tiggers the Cat has been hanging close. Buffett, Vicki, Samba, Cookie, George and Toulouse (not all at once) would stay with me when I was sick. If I was in bed, there would always be at least one furry body with me (they took turns). If I was just being lazy, there were sunbeams to absorb and birds to watch; I was on my own.

I admit it. I’ve been invaded and occupied. Call me Afghanistan.

This shall pass. I’m not going to the gym and that’s making me antsy (good sign). I made my soup, but it’s too hot to temper eggs, so rather than a traditional avgolemono, it was a think chicken stock, breast meat, rice (yes, it’s acceptable Primal. Ask Mark Sisson. www.marksdailyapple.com) and lemon. I juiced two lemons into the pot and another one into my bowl (I like lemon flavor that punches you in the nose). Protein, Vitamin C…that’s a combo that would fuck up any germ.

And  I give you Ogden Nash’s whimsical, “The Germ”

A mighty creature is the germ,
Though smaller than the pachyderm.
His customary dwelling place
Is deep within the human race.
His childish pride he often pleases
By giving people strange diseases.
Do you, my poppet, feel infirm?
You probably contain a germ.


You little fuckers don't scare me: I've beaten your kind before; the minuscule bodies of your ancestors and cousins rot at my feet. I laugh at your fevers, your nausea, your...

God, it's time for more Blue Death.

What is Joy?

The scale is still in its box. However, I have been eating a helluva lot better than I was 2 years ago. Back off.

What is joy?

Yes, I know it’s a dish washing detergent. Or one of my favorite perfumes (expensive stuff, but it loves me and I love it). But those things got their name from the emotion. I think we have a severe shortage of it right now, so I’m asking the question:

What is joy? How often do you feel it? Do you things to generate it? Do you postpone it? What is your relationship to joy?

Think about it for a minute. Can you answer  those questions?

Joy is necessary, really. It’s like sleep or a nutritious meal. It recharges the batteries, refuels the tank. I ask again: what’s your relationship to joy?


I am blessed/lucky enough to live in a nice house (now) with an easy-going roommate, an adorable little dog and a cat who knows a sucker when he sees one. The backyard is a source of joy and enjoyment:

  Lavender that I added. It's a great landscaping plant.

  A mix including something called "super bells." The lady in the Home Depot Garden Center told me it was a   hummingbird candy store. I didn't get a picture, but the local buzz bombs are already checking it out.

Plumeria. When the breeze swirls around the backyard, you can get a whiff of the lavender or the plumeria.

It's peaceful back there. It's a great way to downshift from a hard day.

This is joy. And Tiggers. If a cat feels at ease enough to sleep, it's a peaceful spot, indeed.

Joy can be a quiet, meditative thing.

Or, it can be as Douglas Adams defined it:
'... on the planet Earth, man had always assumed that he was more intelligent than dolphins because he had achieved so much—the wheel, New York, wars and so on—whilst all the dolphins had ever done was muck about in the water having a good time. But conversely, the dolphins had always believed that they were far more intelligent than man—for precisely the same reasons."

 I don't have the best camera, but yes that is a BABY dolphin swimming with Mom. And they're surfing on the bow wake of the whale watching boat. For them, it's fun. For the people watching them play in the water, that's fun, too.

 And again. What you don't see is the 8 year old girl going out of her mind because this is the first time she's ever seen real live dolphins and we were in a pod of about 200 common dolphins with lots and lots of dolphin calves.

 Unfortunately, I couldn't get pictures of the two blue whales  Of course, I was too busy WATCHING the biggest animals that have EVER existed on Earth? T Rex can suck it.

Now, if animals, whose lives are spent hunting and eating (and sleeping and making little dolphins,(EXTREMELY CUTE little dolphins) can find the time to just play, that says something about the importance of joy and play.

I'm still smiling over 3 hours spent on a boat over a week ago. And I sat in the backyard watching the hummingbird snack at a feeder. Picture? No. I lifted the camera and she took off. However, I understand there's a whole family hanging out back there. I get joy from spoiling hummingbirds.

What's your joy?

Drop and give me 12

WHAT’S YOUR DAMAGE, MAGGOT? 

Sir?

I WORK FOR A LIVING, NUMBNUTS. WHAT HAPPENED TO YOUR WEIGHT LOSS AND BLOGGING PROGRAM?

Nothing. 

I DON’T SEE YOU LOSING ANY WEIGHT. AND I’VE NOTICED THAT YOU’RE NOT AT THE GYM AS OFTEN. WHATSA MATTER, GONE SOFT?

No, Sarge. Been working my ass off. 

NOT FROM WHERE I SIT, PRIVATE. 

Hey, I’ve maintained my healthy eating habits, Sarge.

WELL, LA DI DAH! LET’S JUST DANCE AROUND THE FRIGGIN’ MAYPOLE. WHAT HAPPENED TO THE MUSCLE DEFINITION?

Well…

KEEP TALKIN’ LIKE THAT, MAGGOT AND DIG YOURSELF IN.  

You going to throw a box of tissues at me, Sarge?

NO MAGGOT, YOU’RE NOT WORTH THE SNOT THAT WOULD END UP IN THE RAG!!! NOW DROP AND GIVE ME 12!!!! YOU DON’T NEED YOUR FANCY PANTS GYM FOR THAT!!!

(For the record, I really did just complete 12 incline push-ups. Used a bureau because the available items that are lower – meaning more effort required – are too unstable and fragile to withstand the forces of a push-up. And yes, there are forces in a push-up. I didn’t even take Physics and I know that). 

ALL RIGHT, MAGGOT!! WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO TO GET BACK ON THE PROGRAM?

Sacrifices, Sarge.

LIKE WHAT?

TV.  

AND WHAT ELSE?

Find a yoga class after work hours?

ARE YOU ASKING ME OR TELLING ME?

Uh, telling, I guess. Sarge.

AND IF YOU CAN’T FIND A CLASS COMPATIBLE WITH YOUR SCHEDULE?

Cardio. That has definitely gone by the wayside. 

YOU NEED TO CHANGE UP YOUR ROUTINE, TOO OR YOUR BODY GETS INTO A RUT.

Really?

YES!! GIVE ME ANOTHER 12!

(I did).

YOU SAW “THE DARK KNIGHT RISES”, MAGGOT! DO YOU NEED A FANCY PANTS GYM FOR PULL-UPS, PUSH-UPS OR CRUNCHES???

No, Sarge, but…

DON’T YOU SASS ME!

Well, we both know I can’t do a pull-up unassisted.

AND WHOSE FAULT IS THAT??

Mine, Sarge.

AND WHOSE JOB IS IT TO FIX THAT?

Mine, Sarge.

WHAT DID YOUR COUSIN MARGARET THATCHER SAY?

Disciplining yourself to do what you know is right and important, although difficult, is the highroad to pride, self-esteem, and personal satisfaction.

WELL, THAT'S A GOOD ONE, BUT NOT THE ONE I HAD IN MIND...

You may have to fight a battle more than once to win it?

YOU'RE GODDAMN RIGHT, RECRUIT!

KEEP POUNDING THAT WATER, RECRUIT. NO MORE GODDAMN MANDICAKES! NO MORE SUGAR! I SEE ECZEMA ON YOUR HANDS! NO MORE GRAIN! PALEO, GODDAMMIT! YOU HAD DISCIPLINE ONCE, GODDAMIT, GET IT BACK!

Yes, Drill Sergeant.

I CAN’T HEAR YOU!!!

YES, DRILL SERGEANT! IT IS UP TO ME GET FIND MY DISCIPLINE AGAIN! 

Excellent, Recruit.  Carry on.

Oh, Honey...

I have worked in various aspects of the financial services industry for nearly 30 years, from customer service and mutual fund accounting to, lately, mortgage banking. My law degree has come in handy, not because anyone has asked me to draft pleadings or research a law, but because one learns analysis in law school and this has applications beyond a courtroom.

Surprise, surprise, my undergraduate degree as a middle-school teacher is also coming in handy.
I started a new job at the end of May which I like very much, particularly since we’ve gotten a handle on what we’re doing, the pay is good, the bosses are kind, appreciative and knowledgeable. For the most part, my co-workers are professional adults who understand and practice appropriate workplace behavior.

For the most part.

It seems, in the giant square dance that is the constant shifting of desks, working groups and frontline supervision, that my group was absorbed into one that included a pair of young females who were great friends with the previous supervisor and spent their workdays socializing (when not bitching about increased productivity goals coming soon). Due to the ongoing disruption and distraction they created, last week, their desks were moved apart with much pouting, whining and sullen behavior.

 Has quiet been restored? Not really. This has not even slowed them down, really. The sidekick will look around furtively for anyone with authority, run over to her ex-desk and the ongoing live version of the Gossip Girls will be in session.

We also have ongoing texting during meetings and training (with the giggles and whispers). And the following scenario:

Music coming off through headphones (cheap ones) from 3 BIG desks over that I could hear it pretty clearly.
I sent the following email subject line:

Turn down the music, please. I can hear it down here.

I GOT the following response:

Susan,
I would be happy to do so, however if you ask me to turn down rather than telling me to turn down it would work a lil more effectively and would be taken a lil more appropriately. (this is a copy and paste of the message, by the way)


“lil”?
That’s right, Folks, we got us a Queen Bee here. An over-aged teenaged one at that.  Attitude straight out of the 7th grade  ruling clique on someone who should know better.

This broad (No. I’m a broad and I’m not going to include her in with Bette Davis, Elaine Stritch and me)…This spoiled brat seems to be channeling Snooki in appearance and work ethic, as in not having one. For instance, last week, we had a couple of new hires join the team and she was asked to let one sit with her and “shadow” as she worked. She refused in front of the guy, saying she “had numbers to hit.” Full disclosure: I tried to refuse myself because I didn’t feel confident enough in what I was doing. I got overruled and it turned out okay. SHE got a verbal smackdown (no names but everyone knew who the boss meant)  in a team meeting in the afternoon and this led to hours of sulking.

 When I got the job, I was told it was a professional dress and work environment. Professional dress: no tight clothing (well, there’s Salmonella, who wears her clothing 2 sizes too small and can barely move. It’s amusing. Her career path is the Lewinsky Method), no spaghetti straps or flip flops except on OT days on Saturday (even when it’s Casual Friday, there are standards to be observed). Let’s just say she got the same advice and chooses to ignore it.

There are rules about taking phone calls: you do it “off the floor”, meaning you go outside or into the hall because you’re not supposed to be disrupting the people around you. You also do your texting outside and on your break because when the company is paying you, they expect your time and attention to be geared towards THEIR goals. Yup, we’ve got that shit going on, too.


This job involves analysis of timelines and actions by a mortgage servicer (the people who collect your payment and apply it to your balance. Or, as happened a little too often, don’t). There is a lot of input to various computer systems that use the dates input to determine if harm was done to the borrowers.  I’ve been hearing a lot of bitching about being “input monkeys” and sadly, not just from her, but from others of her age group (late 20s, early 30s).  When we’re told that the daily goal for productivity will be increasing, that’s always good 10 minutes of bitching and whining from her and her dumbass sidekick (neither one is particularly smart, by the way, either in raw intelligence or the use/application of common sense).  By the way, I’m already consistently hitting that upcoming daily goal plus extra, so it’s not as if Pharaoh just told us we have to move an additional 10 blocks per day to the top of the pyramid.

And this brings me to another point: Involuntary servitude in this country was abolished by the 13th Amendment in 1865. If you hate the job so much, you have two choices: shut the fuck up or get the fuck out.

You aren’t Terrell Owens or Barbra Streisand, okay? You’re not bringing anything special to the table that would make employers and co-workers put up with your shit. You're not even  at the level of one of those useless "celebrities" from reality TV.

And a former middle school teacher, who has dealt with her share of teenaged tart tyrants isn't about to be bullied by someone who should have grown out of that crap by now.

After the email exchange over the music, the rest of the day was filled with sniper-shot comments about “blasting music” and pointed questions to other team members with headphones. Yeah, I’m working with a mental 13 year old.

Oh, Honey.

First of all, you Dumb Shit Diva, “lil”? Really? You’re in no position in terms of authority, intelligence or any other measure of status to be condescending to me. You’re just another co-worker and one whose dead ass I am already carrying. And your dumb fuck sidekick’s, too.  Considering how much time the two of you waste in socializing  and extending your lunch half-hour and breaks (this has been noticed by management), I resent it and the fact that you feel entitled to bitch about how much is expected of you.  In the words of Peter Venkman, when his secretary, Janine, complained about her workload, “I’m sure someone with your qualifications would have no trouble finding work in the food service industry.”

What he said.

As for the “ask me pretty please with sugar on it” attitude: Yeah. Begging’s not my long suit. For this post, I tried to find a Far Side cartoon of a family sitting down to dinner with the dog pointing a gun at them and saying, “Hey, Bucko! I’m done begging!”

What he said.

I am not going to wheedle, cajole, plead or otherwise tap dance to get adults to behave in an adult, responsible manner.  If you’re going to be disruptive, discourteous and disrespectful, you will bring out the middle school teacher in me and be treated accordingly.

And if you’re enough of a dumbass to put it in an email that takes about .5 seconds to forward to management…that’s the kicker right there. Not only arrogant, but dumber than mud.

Maybe I’m the one who will get moved (not out the door. They like me, they like my work). But I’m not the one about to get an international reputation  as the Dumbass Diva.

P.S. "Lil" Girl? You don't know me. You don't know where my influence lies. You don't know who my friends are. You don't know who owes me what big favors. And you sure as shit don't know how far I'll go to protect my income and peace of mind when pushed. Keep that in mind next time you want to play  Queen Bee of the Middle School.

Pictures!

(We’ll get into the numbers another time. Honest. The scale is up on a closet shelf where it can’t do any damage).

Housekeeping: My “troll” cherry has been broken with the following comment:
“LOL just take the stick out of your ass, and stop trying to pretend there is any kind of discrimination in this ad. BTW, why did the joke backfire? Because YOU didn't like it? You are so pretensious on Follow Up to "I'm Not Laughing"”

I published it because I’m not afraid of criticism, even if it comes from a spineless wonder. Anonymous? The definition of P-R-E-N-T-E-N-T-I-O-U-S is people who attempt to impress by using words they have not mastered (being able to spell it demonstrate mastery). Like Sarah Palin. The “LOL” and “BTW” are indications of a lazy intellect as well. I may be pretentious, but by the grace of God, I’m not a spineless ignoramus (would you like a definition for that?). Of course, if I had your piss poor spelling skills (and insufficient good sense to use Spellcheck when it may count), I don’t think I’d use my real name, either.

 And since Newcastle immediately yanked the ad in question, I doubt I’m the only one who had a problem with it.

This is a pictorial demonstration of progress. Not only mine: clearly, my good friend, Sandy, has eclipsed me in a year. Look at that smile! Yea, Sandy! AND, I have another friend who has started hitting the gym before work, telling me I’m a good influence. PLUS, I’ve noticed more people bringing fruits, vegetables and nuts to work for snacks instead of the sugary stuff.
You’re doing it for yourselves, Guys . Keep it going.

Okay, this is me (and my good, lovely friend Marie) in 2010 (July 4):

(My shirt is from Boston’s on the Beach in Delray Beach, FL. I love the design. Fantastic use of the Red Sox logos. And I do love my Red Sox).

And the two of us July 2, 2011:

(I am smaller. Really)
And this year, July 7:

Yeah, see, not much progress, but Marie looks great.

Now, check out my friend Sandy. June 2, 2011 (my 50th birthday celebration):

And June 1, 2012:

Wow. Just wow.

Cousin Margaret Thatcher once said, “Sometimes you have to fight a battle more than once to win it.”
How right she was. I haven’t reached my goal. Yet), but I haven’t given up or gone back to the old ways. I’m still hitting the gym and I’ve adapted my eating to Paleo style. I keep slipping there. By the way, Scrabble, affogato is NOT Paleo. The bacon-wrapped dates and the grilled asparagus, yes. Affogato, no. Next time: fruit and grass-fed cheese, maybe some nuts.
And Anonymous? Suck on it.

What Makes a Man?

In light of recent developments among my friends (and some soon to be ex-friends), I feel compelled to ask and answer: What makes a man?

It’s not what’s between the legs or the ability to impregnate or the Y chromosome. That’s just what makes a male.

A man is a grown-up version of a human male.

“Well, duh,” you may be saying. “We all know that.”

My friends, let me explicate.

The difference between an adult male and a man is that a man does not run from responsibilities. A man is not a coward. he also does not create confrontations just to prove to himself that he's a man, because that proves exactly the opposite.

An adult male will taunt the fans of sports teams that rival his favorite and be particularly offensive about it. A MAN will suffer those taunts becasue he knows that except for joy or sorrow at a game's outcome, a team's actions have no real impact on his life. Sports is exercise and entertainment. If he's counting on the outcome of a game to make the month's rent/mortgage, he is an adult male, not a MAN.

An adult male will cry victim and use it as an excuse to indulge himself (alcohol, food, women, drugs)  and shirk his obligations to the detriment of those around him/counting on him. A MAN will acknowledge pain and focus his energy on completing his duties.


A male may create a child or children, but a MAN sticks around to raise that child with its mother. And a MAN shows respect to that child’s mother. A man knows that he is always teaching and children are always learning. How a child will treat others is learned from observing the MEN and WOMEN around him. If the household only has children and adult males and females, that child will never learn ways of respect and consideration.

 A male is usually stronger than a woman or child, but a MAN uses that strength to provide for and guard his family. A MAN does not use his superior strength to beat his children or their mother to maintain control.

A male may be tempted by  other women (or men), but a MAN will not let that temptation take control of his actions.  This is real strength.

A MAN takes pride in what he creates and nurtures. An adult male takes pride in childish things because he doesn't understand the rewards of actual achievement.

If you don’t want the responsibilities of properly raising a family, don’t create one. Wear two condoms and get a vasectomy. Have gay sex; humans haven’t evolved to the point where same-sex activity leads to conception. Yet. You never know.

There’s a lot of American political talk going on about “nanny states” and “socialism” and since the Supreme Court just upheld Romneycare (for that is the root), states are already screaming over increasing their Medicaid coverage to accommodate more people. Where’s the personal responsibility? We’re all rugged individuals and we should take care of ourselves and our own.

Yeah? How about you members of the Tea Party who, by walking out on a wife and two kids (including an infant)  just put their families in danger of needing food stamps, subsidized housing and Medicaid? Hypocrite much?

And while I’m thinking of it, even though the kids are still pretty young, one of their first lessons is going to be this: you matter less than whatever piece of ass Daddy is chasing. Proceed accordingly.

Girls have a hard enough time keeping and building their self-esteem. Add to that seeing Daddy treat Mommy like something disposable and she’s going to have a bitch of a time learning about healthy relationships. In the ads for “Ted” right now, there’s a scene with the bear sitting with 6 hookers and the bear says something like, “I’d like to thank the 6 bad fathers who made this night possible.”

Congratulations, Pal: you just joined their ranks. And you're about as good as John Edwards, whom you said you despise.

Your son will grow up learning the same lesson: women are disposable and there’s no need to honor your commitments. So much for that much-vaunted personal responsibility. Nobody’s going to be there to show him the way.

Maybe, if your family’s lucky, they’ll be like shelter dogs: adopted by a responsible parent who WILL love them and care for them the rest of their days.

Hey, I don’t think my father was completely happy with his life, but he stayed married for 55 years, came home every night and made sure the family he created was sheltered, fed, educated  and learned self-reliance (okay, well some of us bobbled the financial part of the lesson, but we’re learning).   When it came to “for better or worse”, he stuck it out (he created some of it, but the stuff he didn’t, he stuck it out) Dad was a MAN; according to a friend of mine, a family man, “Men handle their shit.” They don’t play with it, they deal with it.

MEN understand that freedom isn’t free; yeah, you can follow a path of your choosing, but you WILL be accountable for your actions. Life isn’t consequence-free; adult males try to weasel out of situations they create (or pay lawyers to help them). MEN step up. If you hit another car in a parking lot when nobody’s there to witness, how you respond is the difference between a MAN and adult male: the adult male will quickly move away to park somewhere else. The MAN will leave a note on the other car with contact and insurance info (and if you’re driving without license or insurance, you’re not only not a man, you’re also a damned  fool. You put me and everyone else on the road at risk, you had fucking well better be prepared to handle all consequences).

Like I said, MEN know that they are always “on” and their kids are watching. MEN know they are role models, whether they want to be or not. Adult males will deny the responsibility.

There was a movie in the 1980s titled “Men Don’t Leave.”

Real men don’t.