It's true, he really did

Photo courtesy of Jill Greenberg

Here is an interesting article giving the timeline of the cunt-calling and the video where McCain was recently asked about the '92 incident.

I wouldn't care if his vice presidential running mate were a woman with 14 breasts, 3 vaginas, and 17 children at her hip - her womanhood would not in any way encourage me to soften my stance on McCain's opinions and policies.

All I can say...

... is that I would like to alternately punch Palin in the face and debate her on a large stage.

I mean, more power to the grand old party to make dumb decisions all across the board. It's typically what they do best. I disagree with Mrs. Palin on more topics than I can fit in a dumpster, so let's just start with this one:

She seriously thinks global warming is real, but that it is not caused by human activity.

WHAT?

She supports more extensive drug legislation, so it's not likely she's smoking the crack, but that's the only explanation I can come up with for such amazingly flawed thinking.

Sick?

Ode to the pharmaceutical industry:

I'm tired, can't sleep tight.
My head hurts, don't feel right.
My life is depressing.
This wound needs clean dressing.
I'm weak, feel so helpless.
My legs, they're quite restless.
My whole body's aching,
My heart might be breaking.
My teeth, how they've yellowed.
My sex life? It's mellowed.
Not sure what to do,
I'm feeling so blue.
Just want it to stop,
Maybe some pill to pop?
I've shed many tears,
These ads play to my fears.
Everything has a name,
Ads say I'm not to blame.
I'm too fat, I'm too thin,
There are marks on my skin.
All those packs that I smoke,
They're now just a big joke;
Ads say I'm free and clear.
Same goes for my fat rear!
Take this pill, sip this drink;
No loose hairs in your sink!
Don't you want to look younger?
Swallow this, curb that hunger!
You're not yet medicated?
You should be educated.
These ads give so much info,
They all make me feel so...
Lazy
Energetic
Fat
Skinny
Hungry
Full
Happy
Sad
Better
Worse
Bought
Sold
Enabled
American
Pathetic

My own OverheardInNewYork moment

Drunk homeless dude to me: Hey!
Me: Hi. (as I was walking past)
Drunk homeless dude: Hey lady!
Me: *silence*
Drunk homeless dude: Can I come home with you and do you in the butt?
Me: *silence, picking up the pace*
Drunk homeless dude: Hey! HEY! In the BUTT!

I wish I was making that up.

It was only a matter of time

I had a feeling it would happen sooner or later. It's one of those things I knew would creep up on me and get me when I was least expecting it. I've thought about it in the past, but always shied away before I committed. Lots of my friends do it, so eventually it was going to spread to me, right?

The vegetarianism, I mean.

Here's the deal - in addition to having some animal-friendly guilt I have always advocated conscious eating. Read: be aware of where your food comes from, know what you're eating, if you can't pronounce it you don't want to put it in your mouth, respect the source, etc. I think most Americans' eating habits are deplorable, so for years I've been trying to eat healthier and buy local (hence my participation in a CSA), doing whatever I can to contribute to sustainable and respectable food practices not only for myself, but for the benefit of my local community.

Our culture of blind consumption is counter intuitive to treating ourselves and our planet in a way that encourages life. Right now we throw away more than 30% of all the food we buy. That's unbelievable. That means on average, you throw away $30 of every $100 you spend at the grocery. If we did that with commodities other than food it would seem outrageous to us, but since it's food we don't really notice. Think of it this way. If you go clothes shopping and you buy a new outfit, shoes and all, then you come home and throw the pants away before you've even worn them, that's the equivalent of what we do with food as a nation. Seems insane, right?

Part of our over-consumption is wrapped up in wasteful practices that go into producing the food we eat. For example: it takes 2,000 gallons of water to produce one pound of ground beef. That's the same amount of water you can save each year by installing a low-flow shower head or smaller capacity toilet tank. 2,000 gallons! For one night's meal of taco salad! I just can't justify 2,000 gallons of water for a taco salad dinner anymore. And I loves me some taco salad, people. All that water, all that grain/corn (and the land needed to grow the grain/corn) that goes to feed the cow that lives a short and cramped life so that I can later eat him in a completely detached way has become totally unappealing to me now.

From an animal-lover's perspective, eating meat has always brought some conflicting emotions. My dad hunted when I was a kid, and it was always for food, not for sport. He taught me about guns being dangerous and only for hunting. He made sure I went with him to the butcher a few times when he took the deer in to be parceled out into the multitude of white butcher paper wrapped packages that would eventually fill our freezer. I stepped over dead deer that were being prepped for butchering and was filled with a sense of respect that those animals had been killed for us to eat. It was my first introduction to my very own food source. Rather than seeing an anonymous venison steak or burger on my plate, I knew that meat came from the deer my dad and I took to the butcher. There was something important about that experience. It showed me that meat is not only food, meat was once an animal that had a face and a mother and a life.

The humane reasons for not eating meat were never quite enough on their own to make me become vegetarian. However, the environmental impact of meat production is exactly enough to push me over the edge and change my ways. It's a personal decision. Personally, I simply can't justify my meat consumption anymore. I don't begrudge anyone their steak. I will miss cheeseburgers in a way that is best described as "demented", but that's not enough to make me ignore all the other parts of mass meat production. My eyes have been opened and I can't "unsee" what I've seen.

WHY?

This is upsetting. Infuriating. Frustrating. Sad. Depressing.

This is our neighorhood, our borough, our problem. This is not OK.

And then this happens...

Sometimes my faith in humanity is bolstered by something seemingly insignificant - the smile from a stranger, the kind gesture (holding a door, helping someone pick up their spilled handbag contents, etc.). I feel reassured that we're going down the right path as people and we're doing right by the planet and all the beings we share it with. Despite the war, the hunger, the crime we inflict upon each other on a daily basis, I have hope. But then something terrible happens and I question our entire species and wonder how there can be those among us who are beasts with no regard for life.

My recent posts have been very dog-centric. Unintentional, though it may be.

Yesterday we New Yorkers were alerted to a disturbing discovery up in Yonkers. 2 dogs were found by a gas station's cleaning lady. She opened the lid of the dumpster to throw trash in and, to her horror, found 2 dogs. One looking up at her, just staring, unable to move. The other, dead, frozen stiff, practically on top of the living one. These pups were pitbulls, they had been used either as bait for other dogs who had already been tortured into being fighters, or used as fighters themselves. (this is a photo of them, although you cannot fully see the poor, blonde, dead one)

Dog fighting is a serious crime, it's a felony in every state except Wyoming and Idaho (hellooooo? Get your acts together, WY & ID!), and punishable by 4 yrs in prison and a $25,000 fine in NY. How anyone could take an innocent animal and torture it until it becomes vicious is beyond me. The true vicious beasts are the "humans" who perpetuate this type of backwoods, ghetto, lowbrow, criminal, and depraved "entertainment". There are people who will tell you that certain breeds are innately nasty and mean and are meant to fight. Those people are wrong. No domestic canine is born with bloodlust. Some breeds have more natural aggression, but even those breeds are not born killers.

I am the proud caretaker of what some would consider a vicious breed dog. Duke is a Brazilian Mastiff - a fila brasileiro. Some people use these dogs as guard dogs, to intimidate strangers and protect their homes. In fact, in the UK you are prohibited from owning a fila unless you obtain the court's permission because they are classified as "fighting dogs". Hmm... I wonder how they got that reputation? I can assure you it's from irresponsible and callous humans who, for centuries, have trained dogs like Duke to be killers and fighters.

Ours, however, is nothing but sweet and, ironically, the only time he has ever shown aggression toward a dog or human is when some sick minded guy in our neighborhood jerked the chain (thick chain, not leash - evidence of "toughening up" a dog to make them stronger and meaner than their natural disposition) attached to his pitbull's neck and told Matthew they should see if the dogs would fight each other. Duke didn't take kindly to either the guy or his obviously aggressive dog. He lunged and Matthew crossed the street. Isn't it interesting that the only aggression to come out of my dog was provoked by someone wanting to dogfight? Interesting and telling, I'd say.

What is wrong with some people? Why are some people insistent on violence as a means to make themselves feel more powerful? Are people really that shallow, that immature, that emotionally devastated that they see nothing wrong with beating animals into submission and then throwing them into a ring to see which one can kill the other first? We wage war as nations. We commit crimes as individuals.

Saturday morning Matthew and I are going to a local animal shelter to photograph the new rescued dogs they have available for adoption. The photos will go up on the shelter's website in the hopes that someone will see them and want to make them part of their family. We're going to try not to bring home a brother for Duke. I'll let you know how it goes.

Be the change you want to see in the world. Please.

Big Apple... big, expensive apple

I just stumbled upon a very telling and disturbing article. I live in New York. Brooklyn, to be precise. I love it here. I've never felt more at home in a place ever in my life, and I've lived in many places. I know I don't want to leave, ever.

I rent. I also know that my fiance and I cannot afford to buy real estate here right now... and probably not in the immediate future, either. We have decent jobs. We earn salaries that lots of people outside of New York would envy. For all intents and purposes we make a good living. I know we make more than his parents and we're probably not all that far behind my folks. The scary part is that we pay far more taxes, have a far higher cost of living, share $50k of college loan debt, and aren't even close to the kind of financial stability our parents had at our age.

The article talks about households who make between $80,000 - $150,000 a year being the hardest hit in terms of being able to get ahead financially due to rent/mortgage and tax brackets. Now, I realize that compared to many other families we are lucky as all hell that we have a lovely roof over our heads and we live comfortably. We don't take any of that for granted. But, we fall into the categories discussed in this article and it seems like an even more daunting task to be able to upgrade to something more than a one bedroom apartment unless one of us magically wins the lottery that we don't even play. We don't want to wait until the real estate market seems less frightening to have kids (we're both 30 and we want to have babies sooner rather than later), but the question of how to add another person into a space meant for two is one we're probably going to have to tackle at some point.

Two parts of the article resonated with me most:

"Hardest hit are earners and families making $80,000 to $150,000 a year, including blue-collar workers and professionals such as teachers and midlevel managers."

and

"It's becoming extraordinarily difficult to live in this city as an ordinary person," Mr. Fishman says. "[It used to be] you could have a decent life and put your kids through college. We're beginning to see the end of that."

The end of that? *le sigh* (thanks, Martine) I feel defeated and deflated. Funny how I just posted about affordable dog beds, right? 10 years ago if you would have told me I'd be part of a household making between $80k - $150k/yr I'd have been thrilled. If you would have gone on to tell me I'd still be renting, that my fiance and I were trying desperately to come up with the cash for a wedding that's 3 months away, and that we daydream of being able to buy a place of our own (so we don't have to eventually come up with some crazy living room/nursery scheme when SmallFry one day comes into our lives) with no real hope of that happening I'd have thought you were telling tall tales.

Has anyone conquered the urban real estate market and lived to tell about it?

And the hits just keep on comin'...

I got the pink slip. About 50 of us did. My office is being shut down (thanks, Corporate!) and we've been given the choice to relocate to another office or to take a severance package. The office will physically shut down mid-December and then I've been asked to stay on with a small group until the end of March to transition the accounts and close up shop, basically. At least I've got until Spring. Ideally I'll have a job until 3 weeks before the wedding, take 3 weeks to have my own personal freak-out, get married, go on a honeymoon, come back and start a new position. *sigh* This is just peachy.

Excuse me, miss...

A man came to our door tonight and rang the bell. I should have known something was up when the bell rang after 10PM and we weren't expecting anyone. MT was in the bedroom playing guitar and didn't hear it, so I went to the door alone. First words out of the man's mouth were, "Uh, hey, how you doin'? Oh, you don't remember me, do you?" Nope, I tend not to remember people I've not met before. I would have remembered if I had met a man named Danny who was missing a couple front teeth and had an answer for everything.

The problem with wanting to help people all the time is that when I actually say no it feels bad, really bad - even when I know it was the right thing to do. He told me a very detailed story (first sign of bullshit - too many details) about how the house he lives in was set on fire just last night by the woman who owned it because she wanted to get the insurance money. He was now homeless and living in the car wash... but then he mentioned just wanting to get out of the car wash for a night or two because he'd been there so long, which didn't jive with his burned down house story from 30 seconds before. So he was ringing my bell "again" to see if I could help him "just get 2 car fares". I said no, I wouldn't be helping him do that and then he said he needed the car fares to get across town to a program set up by something-or-other ministries. The saga continued. I had to interrupt him and say again that I wouldn't be helping him. He went on about some other angle. Then I asked him to leave.

It felt awful. I knew the guy was full of bullshit, and it still felt awful. I don't know his real story. I just know how real my guilt is even though I shouldn't have it.

Pirattitude Gone Wrong

The New Jersey Nets are being moved to Brooklyn. We have no stadium. This means that a huge (and very ugly) arena along with a massive condo complex are going to be built in an already congested part of my borough. Not too far from my house the developers used imminent domain to force people from their homes and businesses so they can raze those buildings to make way for this behemoth that none of us who live here want. When it is finished it will be the densest housing tract in the nation (YUCK!). This is going to mean increased traffic on our streets (which are already crowded), increased ridership on our subway lines (which are already crowded), and a whole host of other problems created not only from the new structures once they're up but even from the demolition of the existing homes and businesses. 350 homeless people have already been pushed out of their shelter after it had to be evacuated when a parapet fell from a building nearby that was being demolished by the developer.

Normally, I'm all for Pirattitude. You know, approaching the world with swashbuckling abandon and not giving a scurvy-ridden care what the landlubbers think of you. However there are times when doing whatever the hell you want with no regard for the consequences is a pretty selfish thing (DUH). Basketball is coming to Brooklyn. Woo frickin' hoo. Oh boy, I'm so excited I can hardly contain myself. Basketball is exactly what we need. Excuse me, I just threw up in my mouth a little. What about the homeless shelter? What about the people who are losing their beautiful row homes built in the late 1800s? What about the destruction of old warehouses and factories that are part of the rich history of blue collar industry (which, by the way, all have stunning architectural details)? What about the congestion created on streets and subway lines that can't handle the traffic? What about the fact that none of the residents of this town want this and our government gave the green light for the developer to use imminent domain to steal property? Our government allowed the developers to become Land Grab Pirates. It makes me sick. It's just so wrong!

This video offers free Land Grab Pirate lessons at 10AM at Pier 6 - that's where and when the demo started. *snicker* Too funny.

Go to the damn tea party and vacate my premises.

I sat on my bed a couple hours ago recuperating from yet another invasive procedure (and sadly not the last) that involved laxatives and a long, long tube and was disturbed, not by my unending gas pains, the general rumbling of my guts, the grogginess of the anesthesia, but by a small, dark thing moving along my peripheral field of vision somewhere near my door. This small, dark thing was a mouse. A freaking mouse... in my bedroom.

Now, I knew darn well that we had mice in the apartment. This was not happy knowledge. Cute or not, rodents are rodents. I don't even dig on squirrels - rats w/better PR. Mice? Totally not my thing. I saw a dead one about a month ago and my roommate saw three last week - all alive mind you. However, since the exterminator came on Saturday (whom my landlord refers to in a thick Jamaican accent with no intended humor as "the terminator") and supposedly eradicated the vermin, I figured I wouldn't be seeing any mice in my bedroom today. Normally I'm a pretty tough chick. I mean, I like pink and dresses are cool, but I'm not an uber girly girl.

That said, nothing sends me into squealing chick mode like rodents. Well, rodents or roaches. Both of which we have. It's so disgusting. I've been voluntarily marooned on my bed for the last 2 hours with the exception of a quick trip to the bathroom, natch. I know I'm bigger then he is. I know he can't hurt me. I know all of the reality, but I still don't want to see that mouse. Nu uh. No thanks. I'm moving in 2 weeks and it is a good thing. It's also a good thing because there was a shooting on my block yesterday. A 15 yr old kid took a bullet to the head. Yep. Makes my mouse drama ridiculous.

I'm braving it. I'm headed to the kitchen to make a cup of tea. If I don't post again soon send a search party. I'm one of the only white women in Flatbush. You'll find me.