Screaming Liberal Post #5

Say it with me, people: Are You Fucking Kidding ME?????

Now, I am avoiding blogging about politics, as much as I can. The online break I took a couple months ago really woke me up about how much happier I am if I am reading and staying aware, but not dwelling. Not that there hasn't been fodder... Digressing, Pobble... Anyway, I haven't been writing about politics and have been happier for it.

However. This guy...part of me doesn't want to give him the attention of a post. At the same time, sometimes I have to rail just a little bit. Now is one of those times. From here on out, whenever anyone asks me why exactly I think this country is going backwards instead of moving forward (and yes, I have gotten that question more than once), this will be the example to which I point. Thank you, G. W. Epperly, for proving my point so eloquently.

In an official complaint, filed with the courts of Alaska (ah, that lovely state ~ all the social awareness and inclusiveness of the South, without the warm temperatures), the individual named above states that the President isn't actually allowed to be President because, as a black man, he cannot actually be a citizen of the United States. I wish I was kidding.

As stated above, for an Individual to be a candidate for the office of president of the United States, the candidate must meet the qualifications set forth in the United States Constitution and one of those qualifications is that the Candidate shall be a "natural born citizen" of the United States. As Barack Hussein Obama II is of the "mulatto" race, his status of citizenship is founded upon the Fourteenth Amendment to the United States Constitution. Before the [purported] ratification of the Fourteenth Amendment, the race of "Negro" or "mulatto" had no standing to be citizens of the United States under the United States Constitution."
                                                 ~ GWE v. Barack Hussein Obama, Nomination Petition Objection
                                                               Year 2012 Primary and General Elections

Those are screaming liberal Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.

Dear Cam and Mrs. Pike...

Even public transportation gets into the act

This is an email I sent Lady Blackbelt. I realized not only would it have made a great blog post, but I should have added a couple other friends' addresses...

We have just come out of our first Mardi Gras and holy shit, it was amazing. The lights and colors and pervasive music, all of it, was indescribable. The city was alive and big and pulsing. We got here right in the middle of Carnival, so literally didn't have a quiet night until Wednesday, when it was all over.

At one point actually on Mardi Gras night, we decided to go down Bourbon Street, just to say we had. I have never been in a crowd so thick I could.not.move. until then. And I wasn't the least bit afraid ~ although I did stick my hand in my pocket with the house keys. My ass got squeezed once. I turned around, looked at the three guys who were close to have done it and said "REALLY?!!!?" Two of them had no idea what I was talking about. The third was busted. I just shook my head and said "happy Mardi Gras" and kept on. That was the only incident.

At the club earlier, we had a couple try to pick us up. Me mostly, though. She was dressed like a pig and wanted people to fondle her nipples. Need I say the pick up didn't work?

The October weekend in Salem and the Fourth of July on the Cape... This was right there up with those. One of these days, I'd love to share it with you. Honestly, I don't know if I would've enjoyed it nearly as much if we'd been here on vacation. Part of what made it so good was the ability to remove myself from the touristy aspects. However, I do understand why people do this as their vacation.

Just...wow.
Miss you. Love you. Think of you all the time.

 

Every bead from the last week. Yep, just one week.

Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee ~ and beads.

Being Neighborly

This afternoon, I walked out of the bedroom, through the livingroom and into the kitchen. Lithus wasn't here. Which made no sense, because he had just been here. And there's no more apartment than that, so it's not like he was in another room. Still, I finished what I was doing and sure enough, he wandered back into the bedroom. When I asked where he'd gone, his response was "Up to the fourth floor."

To the spider owners. To talk about the horrible thing and ask them to take it down.

Tonight, we went for our late night walk. It's gone. I'm sitting here in front of my bedroom window, with the blinds wide open, totally safe. Tomorrow, we're buying them a bottle of scotch to say thanks. And having our coffee on the balcony.

Those are grateful Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee ~ on a lovely little balcony in the spider-free French Quarter.

Carnival and Mardi Gras

Look for pictures, reports, and updates over at Stilettos In The Outback. Just 'cause it's fun!

Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.

Who Would DO That?????

We live in a truly wonderful alley in a truly wonderful part of New Orleans, smack in the middle of the French Quarter. It was six months between times home, so it is particularly nice to be back. Sleep in our own bed, on our own sheets. Use our own towels. Lithus would add cook in his own kitchen, but I am all about the linens.

Our very first night home, we stepped out onto our beautiful little balcony and sighed. Looked left. Lovely neighborhood. Looked right. Giant Enormous the size of Lithus with his arms spread and Much Bigger Bodied "decorative" spider. On the wall of our neighbors' building, "climbing" down...and sideways. Toward my beautiful little balcony.

Who The Fuck Would Do That?????

And no, there isn't a picture. Because while people who hate spiders can post pictures of HUGE GINORMOUS spiders and talk about how scary that is and isn't that a nightmare, people who are arachnaphobic are wracked with sobs and have a hard time breathing at the thought of writing this paragraph, let alone taking a fucking picture of the damn thing. So you'll just have to trust me. It's huge. And scary. And huge.

So, there we are on our first night home and I start to hyperventilate. I looked at Lithus and managed to say "I have to go in." He followed me and asked if I was okay. Nope. I wasn't. There was sobbing. And profanity. We are hoping it's a (warped) Mardi Gras and will come down after the 21st. Because I'd really like to use my lovely little balcony.

Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.

Happy Valentine's Day!

From 1066 to Now and...Beyond

If I say the name Cutty Sark, odds are good you will think of the scotch. That's more than fair. Most of us know Cutty Sark to be this:

In reality, though, the Cutty Sark was this:

And her owner was Jock "White Hat" Willis. Part businessman, part pirate, all class act.

How can a man with that hat and that beard *not* be a class act?

He had a wife and kids. And they had a wives and husbands and kids. Right on down the line...

A man who married a woman with "dangerous eyes"

A coin toss. An adventure. Children to carry on the name. A long, full life.

Totally worthy of an ancestor named for his fashion sense

Angels and ministers of grace defend thee, Mike Willis.

Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.

RIP Don Cornelius

SOOOOOOOOOOOOOUUUUUUUULLLLLLLLLLLLL TRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAINNNNN!

*sigh*

Rest in peace, sir. And many thanks.

Those are Pobble Thoughts.