Did You Miss Me? Yeah Right...

This is not a snark fest on the latest GOP example demonstrating Neanderthal man still lives. No, this is one of the few times anyone will ever see me without the smoke and mirrors. Goddamn it, I’m being serious here – or as serious as I can get. Humor is about the only weapon I have left since I sold my soul decades ago and my brain is off the rails.

I’d like to say I’ve been enjoying an endless round of Midori Sours on some obscure tropical beach somewhere but no such luck for damaged goods. In reality I’ve spent the last several months searching for the meaning of life by either self-medicating myself in any way possible to take away the depression, anger, rage, racing brain, insomnia, etc. or simply curled up in the fetal position on the couch watching bad TV. I’m sure we’ve all enjoyed the holiday away from my rants but fun time is over – I’m back, if only for a few paragraphs.

Let’s see what’s happened in the last month or so. I destroyed my living room, tried to deck a security guard in an ER after destroying said living room, given legal drugs for my anxious and depressed nature that landed me BACK in the same hospital with blood pressure so low I was passing out, falling down and seeing spots before my eyes. Back in the day I used to get myself that way on purpose. It’s not near as fun when it’s legally prescribed for you. Plus the food and IV’s reeked.

Between episodes of anger, rage, suicidal idealisations, nightmares, impulsive meltdowns and panic attacks, I spent most of my waking hours fighting off the ever-encroaching tide of doom by verbally shredding a few members of my immediate family, watching bad TV, scooping cat shit and endless worry. Oh, and lots of crying. I did manage to teach myself to successfully put on false eyelashes as there was no other purpose for me on this planet and crying destroyed my mascara on too many occasions.

But in the last couple of weeks the pieces of this odd puzzle started to make sense when someone dared bring up the words “Bipolar 2.” No, not the classic Bipolar 1 where you get to play Charlie Sheen – or at least go on wild shopping sprees topped with drunken debauchery for a month or so in Las Vegas. When you are happy, wild and your mind is endlessly tumbling with delusions of grandeur. Many scoff at delusions but I’ll be happy with any grandeur, delusional or not. At least when the inevitable slide back to the darkness begins with a liter of vodka and the last of 200 vicodin goes down your throat, you know you had one hell of a good time before the bottom fell out.

No, Bipolar 2 is not fun. Think of it as going between deep dark depression punctuated by a racing mind full of angry/anxious ideas that are felonies in most states. Throwing furniture one minute in a mad frenzy, balled up in a fetal position the next. Over twenty years of a constant streams of antidepressants and other drugs that either worked, quit working or turn me into a psychotic zombie. Seeing hallucinations were fun on acid in 1975. Not so much fun on Seroquel in 2012.

Add in three suicide attempts (first at 14), a couple of hospitalizations (yes, I was the one that sabotaged the computer in the psych ward at St. Joe’s) and a lifestyle alternating between good citizenship full of suburban ideals and blatant self-medication on anything I could ingest. To most folks that would raise a red flag. To me it was just normal life.

But a couple of weeks ago my newest antidepressant – Pristiq - quit working. Way too many days on the loveseat in the fetal position. Then my newest psych decided to double my dose - and the floor fell out from under me. To the point that even my primary care PA was on the phone to the pysch reading her the riot act. How else do you get a personal phone call from a psych AND an appointment the very next day? I quit believing in miracles in 1973 – but I do believe in blackmail.

Strangely this psych wasn’t nearly as bad as other ones I’ve seen. Normally I pride myself in making medical professionals reconsider their career choices after dealing with me. But both my new psych and my primary care PA actually talked WITH me about brain chemistry and meds. They respected my knowledge of medications and brain chemistry. How all the problems and atypical reactions to all psych meds I’ve had over the years were a red flag for Bipolar 2 – which is often misdiagnosed as plain, old garden-variety depression. I’ve been treated for depression for over 20 years. Maybe the battle was against the wrong demons.

I just got thrust into this brave new world. My new best friends now are klonopin and buspar. Lamictal is coming as soon as the insurance company is beaten into submission to cover it. But the meds still didn’t keep me from going from a deep drugged sleep into a full-blown panic attack at 6:30 yesterday morning in mere seconds. Call to psych, two calls returned and a dose increase that’d normally put most humans away for days. That same dose that keeps me from begging folks to take me out to the backyard to shoot me, crying nonstop or punching drywall.

There’s at least a million sites/blogs on the web that deal with mental illness and bipolar. I’ve read many of them at 2 am. Most are either written by quacks in need of more meds themselves, pharmaceutical companies promoting their newest potions or boring medical professionals. Some sites are all touchy/feeling about taking care of yourself and your emotions. Not my style at all. If someone wants to be touchy/feeling with me, they damn well better buy me dinner and jewelry.

If you ever find yourself wanting a good education from those in the trenches go to www.crazymeds.com. It’s the closest I’ll ever have to a bible. They are also on Facebook now but their page is temperamental at times. Like many of us folks that are wired a bit differently.

Anyway, my morning doses of Buspar and Klonopin are hitting me. I can function well on doses that topple over most other large mammals. But it’s time to let them peak before I can type at my usual 65+ wpm and not get aggravated about typos.

But I’ll be back kids. Did you know it’s a fact that bipolar folks are normally more creative than the general population? Did you also know I now have the power to scare the shit out of people by threatening to tweak my meds to enable me to put on my purple cape and turn into maniacal super bitch complete with slings, arrows and cocktails? Follow me for snarky political/social commentary. Stay to see me fall through the ice (if they had any here in California) and damn near drown. Nothing is more entertaining – and profitable – than watching others’ misery. Reality TV has proven that.

Speaking of reality TV – these shows on addiction, strange obsessions, hoarders, etc. are frankly getting boring. Watching high society bitches whine over a broken fingernail has no relevance to my impoverish existence. But how about a wild bitch fighting demons on both ends of the scale and very prone to impulsive behavior and dramatic mood swings. Not to mention possessing the power to go sideways on medication – legal or otherwise. Think of the merchandising! No one will know what degree of rage, depression or self-destructive behavior will greet them every week. People threw flour on Kim Kardashian. My fans/haters will probably throw either Peruvian marching powder or some sort of disfiguring acid on me. Far better entertainment. The phone lines are open Hollywood. Salary must include an unlimited shoe wardrobe of my choice each week. Especially stiletto heels so I can inflict bloody injury on others – especially in the groin and throat. Pain and bleeding – that’s entertainment!

PS. Gotta love any medical professionals that urge me to smoke pot. But then this is California…

Show Me Yours and I'll Show You Mine

I thought long and hard before I called this blog “Random and Ridiculous.” Mostly for the fact I had no discipline for any sort of theme aside from cheap thrills and snark. Whatever happened after that was, well, random. The last several months I played “human” between personal emotional dives, unemployment and financial Armageddon. In between all of this I sank deeper into quicksand on my love seat. Then I hit the bottom of the quicksand. I think. Or was it cat litter? Probably me just trying to impress myself with my prose.

Right now ”Random and Ridiculous” is turning into a warm and fuzzy journal of my battle with my new friend Bipolar 2. How the medication just fixed me right up and now I have animated blue birds following me wherever I go. Yes, just like a Lifetime Movie or a Disney classic, right? WRONG! Quit reading this now and pop in a copy of that Patty Duke true life story of her battles with Bipolar 1. At least she got to have some wild times and made bank with the movie. Me – the staff at Raley’s Rx are knowing us by sight.

Anyway for all two of my readers I hate to disappoint you that it’s not 3:15 am with my mascara running and me falling/stumbling into furniture No foot long lines of white powder on an Italian designer glass table. Instead my older (mission style) coffee table boasts an Indian brass bowl, empty diet soda, old Blackberry, older Ipod, scattered PI sheets, purple bong, clearance rack candles with holder and a book on identifying birds of Northern California.That’s not even a D- on the reality star sleaze scale. But did you notice how seamlessly I slid in the purple bong in that list? This is California. That’s why it’s D-, not F.

But tonight, as soon as my wiped and medicated body hit the sheets next to a grouchy cat on a heating pad, my brain clicked. ZING! So I’m back up, hacking between tokes trying to keep the racing in my head under a 7 until my last Klonopin of the day, taking its sweet goddamn time as always, kicks in and slows down my brain and destroys my typing. Since my infamous Pristiq meltdown, my brain is at full tilt even when asleep. Not only my dreams are in Technicolor, they are in sound and now, since the Buspar/Klonopin cocktail routine (not even with a goddamn olive), I actually smell within my dreams. Unfortunately I’m not Dorothy running through lovely poppy fields. More like Dorothy in dusty pen full of pig shit before that Kansas tornado.

Writing sporadic, self-centered, droning word salad is now how I try to direct my over-racing brain into some sort of activity that requires no skill or coördination. Having to use skill and coördination can amp my already low frustration level up from throwing glasses cases against a wall to a three-state killing spree. However, this way I can simply warp, tease, or go into complete denial without fear of arrest. This trail of words may prevent that same level of anxiety Whitney felt when down to her last 8-ball.

Wait, too soon for Whitney? Why don’t you tell me your definition of “soon” and I’ll tell you mine. We’ll stay up all night and giggle about our silly ideas about how life would be when we were grownups and could do as we pleased. Remember, how mommy and daddy told you could even be President if you set your mind to it? I was told I was on the fast track to failure but then mommy died and I never knew my daddy. At four I do remember asking if I ever did anything right? Never got an answer.

Take a well-deserved break and show me your list of dreams. I promise I’ll show you mine. Here’s a hint about my list: Ending up being crowned Bipolar 2 vixen didn’t make my Top 100. It’s worse than 40 years of wearing sad polyester Sears suits, selling insurance and drinking myself into a stupor every night.

Tell me all about your shattered dreams and I’ll tell you mine. Then we’ll have hot cocoa. Maybe after cocoa there’ll be “poof” in the kitchen and we’ll have a Donna Reed-type wearing apron, heels and pearls making us pancakes with smiley faces made of chocolate chips! With real maple syrup!

Miracles of miracles! The Klonopin is kicking in as my typing is becoming atrocious. It’s a win-win for both of us! With luck I should get my Lamictal by the end of this week. Then we’ll see if I can come up with some snark on current events so you won’t have the see the Wicked Witch of the West melt every night. Remember how that freaked you out when you were five? Almost as bad as seeing Bambi’s mom get shot. But unlike life, movies have happy endings.

Shoes, S/M Fantasies and Chocolate

That title alone should cause any head of any proud card-carrying female to whip around faster than Linda Blair's in the "Exorcist." True to type, I also have no qualms to go for the easy, cheap shot to build up any kind of readership. I'd announce I had nude pictures of George Clooney, Brad Pitt and Bruce Springsteen if I had more finesse with Photoshop.....

As far as the chocolate? The few who aren't hooked on shoes are hooked on chocolate. Easy as that. Shoes and chocolate are as yet an undiscovered component of estrogen. If some genius came up with chocolate shoes, they'd have a bank account that would make Bill Gate's look like he made his living as a Walmart greeter ...."Welcome to Walmart - I came up w/Vista." (I would advise Bill to wear a bullet proof vest and a mouth guard....)

But back to shoes. Thin, fat or curvy. Blond, brunette, redhead or multi-colored. Old, young or of a "certain age." Democrat, Republican or just mildly amused. Any and all beliefs, races and creeds. Put two disparate women together - who would normally be clawing each other eyes out - and give them each a pair of new, beautiful Italian couture shoes. Keep the door closed and give it about 5-10 minutes. Open the door slowly - and witness the first step to world peace and harmony. All hatred and body image issues have evaporated. All you hear are "oooohs and coos" as they admire their own and each other's footwear nirvana. The euphoria of soft, supple Italian leather is as powerful a pleasure potion as the strongest opiates - w/o the legal hassles.

But why? Although shoe sizes are not much more standardized than clothing sizes, most women past 30 can rest assured that those $800 pair of shoes will fit them nicely in their 50's and beyond - despite time, gravity, weight changes, etc. A $2000 pair of Loubutins or Jimmy Choo boots are not just adornment - they are a rock solid investment in your future! Face it girls - the odds are that those Manolos will last longer than your relationships, careers and hair colors. With a little care and occasional visits to the shoe doctor, they will faithfully cradle your feet and make you look good through all trials or tribulations. Those shoes are gonna be there for you on the darkest nights when you question your faith and reasons for your existence......

Yes - in your darkest hour you can dream of the sound of 5" stiletto heels coldly clicking down endless icy marble halls.....tall spires of sexual power stirring both lust and fear in the hearts of others. Twirl around on those marvels of engineering - and catch sight of the flaccid, white bellies of Glenn Beck, Rush, Cheney, Oral Roberts......and so many other angry little trolls. Prostrate on the marble - trembling in fear and anticipation - unable to meet your eyes, knowing the fate of bad little boys with big mouths and tiny brains.

Jimmy Choo, YSL, Chanel, Manolo, Louboutin, Cavalli, Dolce and Gabbana, Gianmarco Lorenezi - boot towers of power....endless black buttery leather punctuated with studs, buckles, straps and lacing. Tributes to Bettie Paige. S and M. The toe deftly lifting their shirt hems (or white sheets) of the damned. Their breathing quickens. Balancing on ice picks - as a true Mistress of Gravity -easily avoiding the abdominal skin folds that teem with lifeforms that can only survive in the dark and damp (even in a fantasy, there are limits....can't ruin the shoes!)

Despite certain knowledge of pain and humiliation (along with being the lead story on the 6 o'clock news), the mens' reptilian brains takes over - far more than they have in any public forum. As the heel jabs the mountain of flesh, ripples flow outwards from the epicenter. Oh mother of god, they start praising Obama! As the heel digs in deeper, bruising and tearing mounds of doughy nothingness, they scream out for health care reform! A few more twists of the heel and they are calling their Aryan Princess Sarah Palin the Whore of Babylon! Yet, between the whimpers and cries for an end to racism, they want more. Soon the time will come for their verbal castrations - and living out the rest of their lives as eunuchs in servitude to their new goddess of leather and liberalism!

Whew! Even I'm wiping the steam off my glasses with that one! Throw in some Godiva chocolate or Bueno Bars and it'd be practically orgasmic! Never underestimate the power of a quality, powerful, sexy shoe!

P.S. Leave a comment and I may later share my eBay secrets to stalking and capturing the designer shoe for pennies on the dollar.... (begging and bribery are not beneath me....)

The Genie Is Out Of the Bottle.....

I've never been asked to "guest-blog" before (N.E.O. Moms - kudos and fab vacation to Charlotte!). But as usual my feelings of joy and validation quickly evaporated and I'm right back to obsessing about shoes. Surely there's nothing of importance to be said by an unemployed blogger from Alaska on sex, religion or politics. Hey wait - there's that other unemployed blogger from Alaska who came up with that little catch phrase "death panel" - and got a whole lot of mileage out of it. What was her name again? Oh yeah - Sarah, Sarah Palin. The girl who is more at home on the pages of the National Enquirer than Newsweek....smack dab in between ads for psychic hotlines and the 7-page photo spread on celebrity cellulite.

But enough on our Sarah. Although she's one of my favorite right wing nutcases to skewer and roast ever so slowly over extra-hot coals, there's another issue that has popped up in recent days. Apparently a Presidential speech on the importance of education directed to students has been twisted into a dark conservative conspiracy that's adamant that a 15-minute speech will convert our nation's youth to Obama's evil socialist creed. Surely their soft, moldable minds will be forever branded with leftest ideologies that might lead to such subversive activities as examining a multitude of different ideas and using rational thought processes. Next thing you know there'll be armies of children with implanted electronic monitoring devices turning them into mindless, goose-stepping drones of the state. One push of a button from some evil bureaucrat's desk (safely hidden away in an underground bunker in east nowhere Kansas) will cause them to murder their parents in the night. Could the cross-breeding of dogs with cats and Paris Hilton receiving a Nobel prize for physics be far behind?

Are these just the ridiculous rants of an aging tattooed rebel with hair colors not found in nature? Thankfully some people can grasp the concept of parody. But my tirade is no more ridiculous than spewings of "good Americans" over an upcoming Presidential speech to students within publicly-funded (gasp!) schools - which surely are no more than a trip to commie hell in a hand basket. Good white "patriots" wrapping themselves up in the flag and pounding their chests accusing Obama of bringing politics into the classroom, saying it's akin "to the propagandizing of Hitler's Nazi Germany." That last blurb was an actual statement from a "concerned parent" from Anchorage, Alaska. The land of Palin, Uncle Ted and the Murkowski dynasty.....

Silly hysterics of a few whose cheese slid off their crackers, right? Then why are school districts throughout the nation are buckling right and left (no pun intended) to the paranoid rhetoric of racists, birthers, teabaggers, dittoheads, conservatives, FOX News fans, Christians zealots, ad nauseum. What's next? They are infiltrating lawful assemblies using hired gun-toting goons to intimidate those "commies" wanting health care... Hmmmm - where was all this self-righteous furor over George "Wingnut" Bush speaking to school children (speaking of the blind leading the blind) - including on 9/11? Or Carter, Reagan, Clinton, etc.?

Can any of these wingnuts actually define "socialism", "communism", "facism", "Nazi", etc. beyond words they like to sling out for shock value? Similar to a three year old saying "fuckhead" to shock mom and dad and earning street cred with the toddler set....

However, it's not the Dark Side's latest outcries over a Presidential speech that disturbs me the most. What disturbs me is the fact that a group of knuckle-dragging, mouth-breathing, hypocritical right wing zealots can essentially blackmail schools into throwing out the fundamentals of education, free speech and intelligent discourse out over the least bit of controversy (even when the controversy sprung from the voices in their heads). The genie is out of the bottle - even if it is just a rusty beer can.....

Yes, thanks to the right wingnuts, the genie is out of the bottle and poised for all sorts of mischief. Those suburban BBQ's will soon be fueled by burning books instead of briquettes. Soon entire curriculums will be changed to satisfy the politics of denial and bigotry. It'll be so much easier to raise a generation molded by fear and propaganda if we didn't have all this silly academic bullshit! Let 'em learn wood shop and the bible - it was good enough for our forefathers and it's good enough for us!

Yes, the old "dynamite the fish pond" approach. Start spouting bible verses, excerpts from the constitution and whatever Glenn Beck/Rush Limbaugh said that day. Kill enough fish and the smell will overcome the strongest nose (or intellect). Hey, if Sarah Palin can use fish analogies, so can I. We're the culture of celebrity and 30 second sound bites. I especially like the bible thumpers that mix government w/religion. They forget about separation of state FROM church in addition to their own holy scriptures advocating genocide, slavery, human sacrifice, rape, etc. I especially like Timothy ii, 12, St Paul is quoted thus: “I do not permit a woman to teach or to have authority over a man; she must be silent.” Guess someone better muzzle Sarah......and Michelle Bachman too.

I think I just stumbled across the Conservanuts' reasons for their outcry over a simple Presidential speech - if you control education, no one will question your version of the "truth." Not the first time that circus came through town though......but they are betting that suppression of an educational system - or a country - that is free to examine any and all ideas will at least keep their freakish side show going on a little longer......

I Want My Own Religion and Talk Show.....and Vicodin

It's August 31 - and if I don't post something today the month of August will be a "lost" month. Makes sense as the writer has basically been fighting almost a never-ending headache, bouts of depression and stress - both real and imagined.

My mood is not too much better after running hot water all around my head/neck in a vain attempt for relief. Out of vidocin and frankly motrin, aleve and tylenol are about as effective as pissing on a forest fire. Frustrating and not very effective. But the nice man with the "MD" after his name that prescribes them thinks I can do with a lesser amount than usual. Me thinks we're gonna have to have a discussion about this - but that's for another day...besides it's difficult to debate with someone that is almost as much of a smart-ass as I am (Almost.....)

I forced myself to listen to Glenn Beck today - 15 minutes was about all I could take of his rants and paranoia. Then I read Sarah Palin's wall. Face it kids - if you looked long and hard enough (and have a vivid imagination) you can find a conspiracy behind every door. If I looked at one of my cats long enough, I can be certain they're thinking of a way to get rid of the human that doesn't open the doors at every their every demand as soon as they figure out a way to open tuna cans, secure unlimited amounts of cat food and self-cleaning litter boxes...and open the front door by themselves of course...

But it made me think - if you keep the public entertained by shock value, you can makes lots of money and have people think you are god - or at least one of his favorite messengers. Read Palin's Facebook wall - most of her lemming followers insinuate she is sent to them by god....or that god is at least on her side. Of course this leads me to wonder how one makes the judgement that "god" is on one side or the other.....does he throw you a rock with a note tied on it?

As I've had many years of indoctrination into the Catholic religion (although none of it took much to my family's chagrin) I can spout off biblical psycho-babble and scripture with the best of them. Be a shame to waste all that knowledge. Besides if you throw enough gold glitter, solemn mysterious chants and incense on anything, you can capture the hearts (and wallets) of many..... Catholics been doing it for almost 2000 years. Not a bad track record -- although I would be a bit squeamish if I had to go "Inquisition" on someone....I would only enjoy torture if it were applied to my ex-husband - a nice stretch on the rack could do that boy a world of good. I give you my word that there'll be no fooling around with the altar boys either (a man isn't any good until they are over 30....).

Me thinks this can be a good gig - hell, I'm infamous within my own circle of friends, acquaintances and enemies alternatively either making them laugh or pissing them off. I bet I can be great at 30 second sound bites. Hell, if I can convert you to thinking that you absolutely NEED A TASER - then how far behind is the salvation of your soul? Not to mention the peace you will find in abject poverty in this life....(yes, the abject poverty bit - after you gladly give your worldly possessions to the Church of the Demented Redhead)

Oh my deluded ones - only I can show you the way! I'll say anything you want me to say to make you love yourself and make you feel your ideas actually matter. Stroke the ego enough and even the most hardened soul will succumb to my mindless rants and rascally charm! I can take scripture out of context and twist it to my own vendetta as well as any hard-boiled greasy southern tele-evangelist....(and I will NEVER wear a cheap polyester suit as that offends the same god that gave us Gucci and Chanel).

Sigh - I could go on for hours now formulating my new religion. Need a media onslaught on TV as to reach the bored and sleepless masses at 2:00 a.m. - I'd be much more entertaining than a typical infommercial - even the one that promises to send you FREE HOLY HEALING WATER! Yes, kids -- there is really such rot out there on the airwaves. Wonder if those shysters would suffer a decline in donations if the United States implemented accessible and affordable health care for all its citizens (but that again is another rant for another day).

OK - can I finish and get off this thing now? I made a half-assed attempt to write and I wasted both my time and the time of the reader. Or have I? Can I use the same logic Palin used - y'know drone on about bears protecting cubs and dead fish going with the flow as I quit? Or is my quitting not really quitting but a brilliant personal political and career move? Stay tuned to find out......

AADD, Twitter and Sarah Palin - What Was That Again?

I'm fully aware of my AADD. Pick up a shiny new toy and all the other ones are left in the dust. It can last from 10 seconds to 10 years. Writing is about the only way I can complete a thought. Try holding a conversation with me --- I do well to blurt out a train of thought and keep it on the same track it started on....

In my own small world, my friends (and even a few enemies) say I'm a good writer. Hell, they will say about anything to con me into doing their dirty work and write their business letters, brochures, resumes, school accreditation reports (brilliant works of total fiction) and even a few papers for a Masters in Business Administration that wasn't even for myself (but I "got" an A....). Even made a living for many years as an "administrative assistant" which meant I wrote it, signed it (forgery is a valuable skill seldom taught in business school) but got none of the credit.

But after reading a few of the millions upon millions of other blogs shouting out in the darkness, I've come to the conclusion that any talent I thought I had was due primarily to the fact that I hang out with a crowd that really hates to write a postcard, much less a thesis..... so naturally I showed my usual mature, reasonable reaction -- take my goddamn ball and go home. Thus the neglect of this Blog.....

The world of Twitter is meant for people like me - I can keep it together for 140 characters (although I think 160 would be ideal). Pop up an idea, bad joke or a link and my job is done. By that time I'm bored with it totally and spend the rest of the day reading everyone's tweets and following link after link after link - I can start with Palin - one of my all time favorite quasi-celebrities to skewer - and keep myself amused all day long. That woman is a goldmine of comedy for years to come and what makes it extra special is that she hasn't a clue (or a sense of humor - or even a sense of irony...)

True - many of us see Palin for what she really is - an aging second-rate beauty queen from an ugly strip mall pustule of a town that'll do anything for fame and fortune. What some of us may not realize is the fact that despite her lack of any real intellect, she is an expert on manipulating America's love of the classic "David and Goliath" tale.... Americans just love to root for the underdog!

"Us versus Them" - the ballsy little guy versus the big, evil, unfeeling _______ (government, religion, corporation - fill in the blank) is a basic underpinning of American popular culture. We absolutely love when the underdog socks it to "the man". It started with the American Revolution - America the Underdog versus Great Britain - those snobby oppressors of us - the "real" little people. It's been an integral part of our culture ever since. The "little guy" that comes out of nowhere and beats the real - or imaginary - giant. One of our favorite movie plots.

In fact we love this story so much that sometimes we root for the underdog even without considering the possibility of that dog having rabies.......Being the underdog doesn't necessarily mean being in the right. Sometimes an underdog is an Obama -- but sometimes it's just a bitch with fleas......

Speaking of bitches w/fleas - Exhibit A - Sarah Palin. Who relishes in telling us - again, again and again - how a pitbull w/lipstick, PTA hockey mom from Nothing Special, Alaska - rose thorough the ranks in a just a decade to become a US Vice-Presidential candidate (oh yeah, there's that Alaska Governor gig she did for a while too...). Sarah Barracuda. Stupid but ruthless. Wink, wink - I shop at Walmart just like y'all, go salmon fishin' in full makeup and you betcha that big government and media are out to get me!


Now she claims to have a higher calling to restore America to Conservative values (which haven't work too well so far). Those afraid of the future cling to the past - and you can twist that nicely to fit the classic "David and Goliath" plot - starring Sarah as the victimized underdog ready to fight against big government, godless liberals, evil abortionists or whatever is the flavor of evil of the week and by god - git 'er done! Against that big wicked world that many don't, can't - or choose to not - understand. Capitalize on some of our primal fears - the fear of the unknown, the fear of change. Lather, rinse, repeat...... soon you too can have your own cult following,,,,,

It's easy to call her a total nut case. She says it's only the dead fish that go with the flow - but her own salmon run didn't quite make it all way upstream. I skewer her on a daily, sometimes hourly, basis. She keeps me amused enough to keep from spending what little disposable income I have at eBay on shoes.

There's no danger of Sarah ever being labeled an intellectual. But you don't need intellect or talent in these days of 24/7 celebrity blood lust. You just need to know how to work the crowd - to hone in on what you can manipulate and work it baby. Sarah is using our inclination to root for the underdog for her own shallow crusade of "Love me, I'm Sarah" campaign. It's not the position itself that she desires - it's the stage it offers for her show. The talk show/book/lecture/nat'l political circuit is much bigger stage than being governor of some frozen state of less than 700,000. All you have to do is look at a few tabloids to know that it doesn't take much in either brains or talent to rake in the money and adoration. Hell, all you need is a round of in-vitro fertilization gone horribly wrong.....But the difference between a welfare mom with 6 kids in Minnesota and one with 6 kids on a reality TV show is "star" power. Manipulation - by either calculation, talent or being able to whip a crowd into a frenzy.....Smoke, lights and mirrors -- or using our fears and emotions against us.

It has happened before in America - and it can happen again. Take a few minutes and google "Senator Joseph McCarthy" or "McCarthyism"...... any of this sound familiar? Are "Palinites" that far from "Palinism?"

Sarah, like McCarthy, knows how to play to the darker aspects of human nature and she's milking it for all that she's worth. She knows that by presenting herself as the underdog savior that'll take us back to the "good life" of God, country and Conservative "common sense" she'll attain her megalomanic goals. Besides - as a veteran of the beauty pageant circuit - she knows the power of a Pepsodent smile along with some tits and ass. She's hoping our memories are short and our fears of the unknown are long - in fact she's banking on it. It's worked before - and it'll work again unless we start taking her for much more than a Letterman punchline......

Home Remodeling Hell

I have several half-finished posts collecting dust in the "draft/edit" stage - I guess my mind is so wrapped around either finishing (or avoiding) home remodeling hell that any day I can finish w/o a meltdown is a success. I've basically lost any vestige of a sense of humor or sense of reality. I've gone w/o a kitchen sink for 3 days - I'm NOT in the mood to be clever or amusing....

But right now I'll do about anything to avoid the odious task of ripping out 16 year old carpet......now I know why the installers wanted 35 cents a sq. foot to make it go away. I still don't know what possessed me to think that saving money for more important lifestyle essentials like shoes, clothes and building up my my Southpark DVD collection would be worth the grime, cat hair and mysterious matter you find underneath that nasty worn carpet.....

Do it yourself remodeling destroys your bank account, your back and any faith you ever had in any inherent goodness of mankind (yep, I dealt with the contractors.....) Now I know the reasons behind the vacant stares of the lost souls shuffling aimlessly up and down down the aisles of the big box hardware stores.......I recognize the smell of desperation filtering through stale dust and paint fumes. I know now that all those "happy" remodeling shows such as on TLC, DIY, etc. etc. are lies - all horrible, life-sucking lies. Sponsored by Satan who wants to sell paint, tile and plumbing parts that defy physics. Those happy home owners on TV are smiling because they have professionals doing all the dirty work for free. They never had to look for replacement parts for faucets that haven't been made since 1983......Did you know there are faucets selling for OVER $500!?!? I will not pay that much for any piece of metal unless it's measured in carats and I can wear the damn thing!

And once I climb out of this circle of hell, I'll be set to plunge into the next one - Real Estate Hell - a dangerous mix of shattered hopes and financial issues (sounds like most of the men I've dated). But at least I don't have to risk frizzy hair or broken fingernails.....