Thursday, 25 December 2008

Happy Christmas 12/24/08

Dear People,

I am sorry I haven't been here once again.
I fell several weeks ago while walking-- landed flat on my back-- and fell again three days after that. Actually I fainted after a shower. I fell on my right side but fortunately had protected my head with my arm.

My back, which wasn't great due to the motor vehicle accident I'd been in that also gave me the traumatic brain injury, is now a spasming mess on the right side. Can't hardly bend to the right, can't move the right arm out to reach all that much, can't get in or out of a chair without extreme pain and difficulty.

Two trips to the doc resulted in a script for physical therapy which I am glad to say I will be starting next week. The muscle spasms in my back aren't bad as long as I don't breathe, shift positions, or move in any way. Traction is beginning to look like something desirable.

I will be back when I can. Meanwhile:

1). Happy Christmas and happy everything else too,
2). I hope that the president-elect is able to help the u.s.a. out of the mess we are in but I sorta think we are screwed anyways,
3). I saw two pileated woodpeckers the other day pecking on a telephone pole while they were hanging upside down. Very beautiful.

Be well my friends. And if you can't be well, then be weller.


Monday, 17 November 2008

A Murder of Crows - Volume 23

God can I get offended by the stupidest shit or what? I found myself infuriated by a comment from an outspoken young lad that decided to berate me because I had the audacity to say that I don’t drink Starbucks coffee. His assumption of why I don’t drink it had nothing to do with the meaning behind my statement and that was what infuriated me so much. The fact of the matter is that I don’t drink Starbucks because I think it sucks. It had nothing to do with any political ban, or some other bullshit reason that you read about in various spam e-mails, but he chastised me for being a loony that was banning Starbucks based on their anti war sentiments. Personally I never had a problem with Starbucks refusing to send free coffee to soldiers, because everyone has that right, and have even gone as far as to support their decision because their coffee sucks! It’s bad enough that we have sent soldiers to a war zone, but to force them to drink shitty coffee in the middle of a desert is just over the top in my book.

I am not one of those people that runs around telling people to ban things and it might be one of the few things that I have agreed in lock step with a certain radio personality that dominates the noon to three time slot on most AM radio dials. Calling for protests on things politicizes business and that is completely un-cool. I have also subscribed to the theory that there are a lot more people out there that hate me than love me, so the chances are pretty good that I would make billionaires out of companies I detest. Chew on that one for a while as you run out to buy your Starbucks coffee knowing full well that Jeremy hates it so it must be pretty damn good. For the record when I happen to be in Seattle {my favoritest city in the world} I prefer to drink Tully’s but will drink Starbucks because it is after all on every block out there, and Tully’s has only managed to place a store across from nine out of ten of them.

Now on to the breaking of my cardinal rule, I will tell you all a few things that I have banned and why, but for my own personal reasons. I do this mostly to point out to my more liberal readers that they are out of line when judging me as a hateful right wing whacko, because I do put my money where my mouth is, and it isn’t within their realm of stereotype. The very first product that I ever put a “lifetime” ban on was based completely on my own lying eyes, and that would be Nike. I haven’t owned a Nike product of any sort, since I was 13 years old. Admittedly from the age of 13 to about 20 it was because I couldn’t afford them being from humbler means than most, but it was when I worked for a company that made the inner plastics that go into shoes, that I decided Nike was bad news. I have had a multitude of friends that have either worked for Nike or Bauer as they are a local company that has come to the same decision, and it falls under my floating scale of reasonability. I was sent on a trip to Indonesia where most of the labor on Nike products is performed and it was shocking to me. The employees over there are paid poverty wages, and the government supports beating the workers to get them to perform better. Nike was the only shoe factory that made an effort to hide this from the people that were touring, but not good enough for my needs.

Most people would say that this happens all over the world and I am being a prude for taking it out on Nike. The fact is that I know that world economic slavery happens everywhere, but I can live with buying a fifteen dollar pair of sneakers that were made in a Chinese sweat shop. I’m an evil American after all, but at least I will admit that I am unlike the other countries of the world that point their fingers at me, and then do the exact same thing. The problem with the Nike model is that this happens and then they charge a hundred bucks for the shoes so that they can pay all of the stars to promote them. That is what is completely un-cool to me because they are NOT serving a need at an affordable price, they are lining the pockets of a lot of people who don’t exactly need their pockets lined anymore on the backs of the slaves of tyrannical nations. In my book there is a huge difference and this is why I don’t buy or even keep Nike products. I have gone as far as to smile and say “thank you” to anyone that gets me Nike products for gifts and then get them into a Salvation Army bin the first moment I can. I justify that it is doing some good at that point.

Then there was Procter & Gamble which made my life a little difficult for a while there. It was harder when I was younger to figure out what exactly was a P&G product and what wasn’t but I dutifully read labels for about ten years to keep those products out of my grocery cart. That got a lot easier when I had three kids and limited money because almost everything that ended up in my grocery cart was no name brand from that point on. P&G had pissed me off by its senseless use of animals in their testing of various products. If you use Oil of Olay for example you can take great pride in knowing that millions of animals have had their scalps ripped open and chemicals poured in so that your skin can be soft and smooth. I’m not a total loony here either, and some may call me a hypocrite because I eat animals, and I have no problem with medical testing on animals. Again in my closed little mind there is a difference between killing and torturing. There is also a big difference between beauty products, laundry detergent scents and medical research. I might have even given them a pass and forgotten about the whole thing if they had just applied the eye liner to the animals or perhaps washed them a little bunny sweater and tried it out, but the preferred methodology of their labs was always to rip flesh and inject. I never intended to use any of their products that way so why should the animals?

Then you have all those damn charities out there that need constant lamb basting from people like me as well. A lot of the more notable charities have overheads on them that make their actual charitable contributions well below ten percent of their incomes. In a lot of cases these “reputable” charities are nothing more than shell organizations for one radical group or another. As you will see I am NOT mentioning names on this one, because all I can suggest is to always spend a little time looking into a charity before you donate to one. This could be contributed to my right leaning ideals, but in a way it isn’t. I actually know for a fact that I had more legitimate charitable contributions on my tax return than Al Gore did the year he ran for President {since it was disclosed by law}, and only a small fraction of them were religious. Keeping in mind that the Salvation Army makes up the bulk of my religious contributions, I am just being honest, but they do good stuff in my book.

The bulk of my charitable donations go directly to the SPCA and the Special Olympics which have always been my two biggest causes. On that note I won’t “buy” a cat or a dog from a pet store. There are good pet breeders out there, but I don’t have the time, money or effort to figure out who they are or what pet stores they deal with, since there are millions of cats and dogs in this world that need homes and are pining away in an animal shelter. I also can be pretty outspoken about what pets I get when I go to the animal shelter as well, and I have been teaching my kids what I think is the “right way” and the “wrong way” and sometimes preach it to others. The last cat we got from the animal shelter was an eight year old scrawny tawny, who would have sat there a lot longer if we hadn’t grabbed her. The kids of course were enthralled with all of the cats begging for attention, and the kittens of course, but those cats get taken a lot quicker, and if not by us then the next one through the door. The emaciated cat in the corner that had come from neglect almost always inevitably gets passed over and it doesn’t have the energy to show off for the guests, so I always take the kids over to meet them. Our newest cat Duchess was a bit frightened at first, but I was able to get the kids to enjoy the “getting to know each other” process, and in turn she has become my son’s best friend. She is a chubby cat now who waits at the door every day when she knows he’s getting off the school bus, but more importantly, she isn’t the cat that was forgotten about in the malaise of human indifference. Not bad for a self righteous, meat eating, cigarette smoking, right wing whacko huh? ;8o)

Other Crap This Weirdo Publishes... Mental Notes& Random Musings {Daily Blog} The Crow's Nest {The Homepage of J~ Crow}

Nothing that was printed here was intended to offend anyone, and if it did, screw ya, you begged for it. If you believe that there are some measures that can be taken to change me, then please feel free to pray for me, and while you are at it yourself, because you read this far, and if you hated every minute of it, then you are an idiot, not me, or the other people who like what I have to say! .. Jeremy

All writings Copyright © 2008 .. The Crow's Nest

Friday, 7 November 2008

A Murder of Crows - Volume 22

It’s finally over. I haven’t been able to write for months as the political season here had found its way into full flower and with it came all of the hard feelings that go along with presidential elections. I have found it is just easier to write my paid articles, get them in and don’t attempt to write anything else, because everything can turn into a long rant if left unattended for too long. This year was the worst after all, and I found myself angry a lot of the time over the shenanigans that politics had sunk to, but the reality of it all is pretty simple. I don’t hate politicians anymore, because I just hate the people that support them.

Here’s the way I look at it, and I am sure that I am wrong, but many people will correct my ignorance. I like Barack Obama. I actually like Barack Obama a hell of a lot more than I like John McCain, but the chances of me pulling the lever for the guy were slim and none when I listened to his supporters for the last year. More to the point, I have yet to find a more loathsome bunch of people than the truly vocal Barack Obama supporters and they turned my stomach to the point that I was rooting against the guy, like I imagine I was supposed to anyway. A lot of this came from the “destroy Palin” movement that had swept the nation the last four months or so, and the fear that no matter how much I like Obama it is after all going to be these types of people that he will bring to Washington with him. I can hope not, but I have been there before with Clinton, so I am not holding my breath.

Again as far as Obama is concerned, I truly do hope that he is the best president in American history, as I did with Bush, Clinton, Bush, and Reagan. I was too young to wish Carter any luck but come of age in enough time to realize what the worst president in American history could look like. In the end it doesn’t matter who occupies the seat at the White House, I am not going to root against the home team, and like it or not in January Barack Obama is going to be the home team. I actually think he could do a good job, but I also think he could do a bad job, it all depends on what he does, and why as it always does with presidents. Obama could potentially be a victim of his own success though because despite what people think, he is the first president since Reagan to have an overwhelming mandate. His party owns a staggering majority of the house, a decent sized majority of the senate, and a far more left leaning country to pilot at this time. In other words, “He better get some things done” because with that sort of a mandate the moderates are not going to accept the “blame it on Bush” mentality that infests us now, for long.

I have after all lived through a few bad presidents and always for different reasons. Carter was a nice enough guy, but hopelessly incompetent, GHW Bush was simpering, Clinton was an “in the moment” sort of guy, GW Bush was hopeless at picking the battles he wanted to fight {and more often than not made fools of his own supporters} and now the new guy hopefully will take a look at some of these guys and choose is battles wisely. I don’t know at this point, but I will say as a Republican, I don’t buy the absurdities that the rank and file of my party blather on about him. I also think he might shock a few of his own party by displaying a backbone. McCain on the other hand was a shock a day, and that is why I desperately didn’t want him to be president. Did I mention I am a Republican?

Here in New Hampshire the politics went to an all new low, and for that I blame John E Sununu. I voted for him after all, but I almost changed my mind at the last minute. You see here in New Hampshire the Democrats are the most vile human beings on earth. I am not making a blanket statement on Democrats in general, I am just pointing out that the Democrats here are enough to make any decent person sport a Bush sticker on their car just to hopefully push a few of them into neurotic suicide over it. For the last six years the New Hampshire DNC had sported a new plan of tearing up all of the Republicans signs in the middle of the night and replacing them with almost identical signs with insulting things about the candidates. This time around for instance you might have gone to bed with a “Sununu” sign out front of your house and woken up with a “BUSH Sununu” sign out front of your house looking almost identical in colors etc. They do it with the governor and presidential signs as well, and it is considered the norm around here. In other words people expect it from scumbag Democrats, and the Republicans are the bad people anyway because the news told me so. The night of the election the Sununu people went out and did it to all the Shaheen signs and it pissed me off. He should have known better because now not only did he lose, but the Democrats in this state will be able to say that “The Republicans always do that” making another Republican that made a lasting ass out of his supporters.

As I said, it is over finally, and now it is time to move on. I’ve had all of the Dems that know I am a republican telling me all of my faults for the last two days. They are still talking about how Palin lost McCain the ticket {which is a load of crap because everyone that hated her would have hated anyone, they are just making sure they destroy her as a future candidate} even though she may be the only reason McCain won any states at all, and the Obama Presidency {note I didn’t say regime, because it has ALWAYS been wrong to say that} begins in a couple of months, and I am not heading for any tall bridges. The country will survive as it would have had McCain won, and I’m pretty sure that everyone still hates each other. I will add though, Plato so wisely said that democracies only last 225 years on average due to poor fiscal policy because the people soon realize they can vote themselves all the benefits they wish. I am hoping that Obama rises above that philosophy soon, or we could be in a lot of trouble. The Democracy of one man and one vote only works when it isn’t two wolves and a lamb voting on what is for dinner after all. My prediction is that a lot of the people that were voted in for “change” are going to realize this before they go tearing down the house completely, and they may end up with a lot of their constituency furious with them within a year. His mandate dictates that ;8o)

Other Crap This Weirdo Publishes... Mental Notes& Random Musings {Daily Blog} The Crow's Nest {The Homepage of J~ Crow}

Nothing that was printed here was intended to offend anyone, and if it did, screw ya, you begged for it. If you believe that there are some measures that can be taken to change me, then please feel free to pray for me, and while you are at it yourself, because you read this far, and if you hated every minute of it, then you are an idiot, not me, or the other people who like what I have to say! .. Jeremy

All writings Copyright © 2008 .. The Crow's Nest

Monday, 27 October 2008

Reeling in Pain

Dear Little Sister,

Dad went for his two hour evaluation at Sunnyview Hospital for his
driving today.
He had some sitdown tests and then he and the evaluator went out
driving for 45 minutes.

Although Dad's reaction time is above average for his age,
he has visual inattention, poor visual scanning, poor color
discrimination, depth perception and

peripheral vision losses, poor impulse control all which indicate that
he should not be driving at all.

It was obvious to me during the pen and paper testing that Dad does have
some cognitive losses, memory losses (can't remember three words a few

minutes later-- 2 out of 3), sequencing difficulties (drawing lines
dot to dot in order
and serial sevens), has visual discrimination problems (multitude of
examples throughout

the testing and not able to be corrected by glasses) and his distance
vision corrected
is 20/40 (near for reading corrected is 20/30).

When the evaluator took him driving, she had to grab the wheel at one point
in order to prevent Dad from turning in front of another vehicle.

There were other problems with the driving also:
high distractibility, driving 15 mph below the speed limit at some points,

stopping too soon before a red light, allowing someone at a stop sign to
proceed through even though Dad himself didn't have a stop sign in
front of him...

and other stuff. The driving evaluator told Dad emphatically and several
times in several different ways that the time for him to quit driving is NOW.

His safety while driving is inconsistent. The fact that he was at one time an
excellent driver shows however it is about 50/50 right now. During the

45 minute driving session he was either excellent for 50 percent of the time
and totally unsafe the other 50 percent.

Dad did not take this news very well (as was expected-- who would?) and
does not wish to talk about it yet. He did allow me to drive home and to

the diner for lunch. He also does not want to talk about his own dad
who died in a car crash in Florida when I was in second grade.

The evaluator is not allowed to send the results to motor vehicles but
she is forwarding the results to George (our primary care doc) who is

supposed to write Dad a letter. I will see if I can get him to go see George
to talk about it without me there. Dad really needs to see a neurodoc

(fortunately there is an excellent neurodoc in Albany who is an expert
on dementias and is also informed about traumatic brain injuries)

at this point so we can get a definitive diagnosis on exactly what type of
dementia he is having (or if it is an undiagnosed brain injury from one of his

accidents?) and then the proper medication for the kind of dementia it is.
The proper meds are specific to what kind of dementia as some meds are

counter-indicated in some types of dementia but work well for others.
I am going to inquire about trains since there is a station in Montvale and

there are decidedly times when Dad wants to go to New Jersey without me.
Also because of my own brain injury I really have to stop at every rest area

or every other rest area on any trip longer than 45 minutes. So at this point
unless the State of New Jersey steps in and pulls the license, I really can't

stop Dad from driving. At least we know definitively and from an objective
source that Dad should not be driving at all.

It is bad news for sure, more evidence that Dad is not well neurologically.
Hard for us to hear and go through. Even harder for him.


Tuesday, 30 September 2008

Two Brain-Damaged People

Dad has come to live with us. He has some dementia and some aphasia. So now there are two brain-damaged people in the house-- me, and Dad.

Now I know that the official words for my brain damage is "t.b.i." or "traumatic brain injury." The reality is that traumatic brain injury equals brain damage. My brain damage was acquired after the age of 21 in a motor vehicle accident. It is brain damage nonetheless. One physical therapist from Sunnyview Hospital in Schenectady tried to tell me that "brain damage" sounds like one is "damaged" somehow. Yes, my brain is damaged. Why not just call it what it is?

Dad has some restlessness and is wanting to do housework and fix up the house when he is not sleeping in front of the television set. Last week, we decided to stain/waterproof the back deck. First we had to locate the two buckets of stain and the brushes. That wasn't any problem as my friend Ed had given us those things and they were sitting by the back door. Then we had to wait for a sunny day. That happened.

It was a very sunny day. And hot, considering that we live next door to Alaska. So Dad insisted that we wear long-sleeved shirts. The stain getting on our skin would ?eat it? stain it? At any rate, on went the hot shirts. Then there are the latex gloves-- same reason. We started working out of one bucket but then that went to, "Here's another bucket spike. You use your own."

There was lots of staining, doing and redoing. I redid some of Dad's area and he redid some of mine. Two half-gallons were left when we got done. Between us, the stained deck was definitely personalized. There are some drips and dots from my work. And some heavier stained areas from Dad's work. With two brain-damaged people staining a deck, the results will be interesting. A guarantee.

Yesterday, Dad decided that we should put together a clothes rack with vinyl bag hooked onto it for the clothes he has that he no longer wears. This particular clothes rack/vinyl bag thing was manufactured in mainland China. And I swear whoever wrote the instructions hit the "from mandarin to english" button on babelfish. To complicate things further, Dad dumped all of the numbered poles out of their respective bags. The first attempt came out with two longer sides and two shorter sides. There was a break then during which I hoped in futility that Dad would forget about this particular tortorous clothes rack/vinyl bag thing. Didn't happen.

After some "Divorce Court" on teevee, we went back upstairs for a second go 'round. This time we managed to get the vinyl bag installed but then the poles kept pulling out of their holes. And so this clothes rack/vinyl bag thing stands loosely in a corner looking more like a modern art structure than anything remotely functional.

Because of my difficulties with multi-tasking, perhaps I would have had a shot at putting the thing together if left alone in a cave far away from human civilization. No chance of success yesterday. Dad kept up a running commentary as we were working. And between my t.b.i.-related perception problems and Dad's dementia-related perception problems, shoving poles into holes at flush 90 degree angles was not a task destined for fantastic results. Husband said he will "look at it" today.

I think there is something to be said for joining a nudist colony and forgetting about clothes and things like that.

sapphoq healing tbi

Friday, 29 August 2008

A Murder of Crows - Volume 21

It’s getting pretty old at this point, but I have to thank my ex-wife for finally forcing me to put a lot of things into perspective yesterday. She didn’t do it on purpose of course, but she did all the same, and as always forced me into a situation that I wasn’t very comfortable with. This isn’t exactly her method of operation, but with it all becoming quite old, it is also getting to the point where you just can’t cover up for her neglect anymore either. This is how it worked yesterday.

There was a phone call, and it was “that woman” who wanted to talk to her youngest daughter. It appears that she just remembered that her birthday was around now, and she figured that she should call and talk to her. Imtoocutus wasn’t exactly thrilled to talk to her, because like the oldest daughter she has learned the proper emotions that someone should have towards a mother like hers. The phone call was two days late for any proper birthday wishes, and Imtoocutus didn’t even bother to correct her on any of it. Her only intention was to get the phone out of her hands and into the hands of anyone but her. This is the way that Lazius Boycrazius would treat her mother as well, and it is simply systematic of how daughters relate to their mothers, especially if they are bad mothers. Problems start at this point as she hands the phone to Captain ADHD {a boy and incapable of ever truly comprehending how rotten his mother is .. genetics} and he takes the phone down to his bedroom to talk to her for an hour.

She filled his head with all of the shit that she always does. Told him about all the things she has at her apartment, her new snake, the bedroom she made for him, the toys she has been collecting for him, how she would love to see him but nobody will bring him out there, etc etc etc. I’ve said it enough that she is just the most evil woman on the planet, and clinical definitions of issues that only Oprah Winfrey could love doesn’t change the fact that at this point the only good thing she could do for her children is kill herself. I know it sounds pretty bad to say something like that but bear with me as I proceed further. In any regard, my son, as always gets to spend the first week of school, the week before his birthday, and the most hectic time of his father’s life, miserable and crying because his mother is a monster. I was at a total loss, and devoid of time to comprehend the proper way to deal with this. I had already gotten up 2 hours early to take my father to the doctor, and was sick as a dog from all the extra burdens this week. I decided to just lay it all out on the table for him.

The first thing I did was I sat him down and decided to just start with right and wrong. I explained to him that he is a little boy, and little boys are supposed to be taken care of by their parents. It doesn’t sink in all that great at first, so I had to elaborate, and this is where my own feelings started getting in the way. I told him about when he was living with his mother, and how I used to come and pick him up every other weekend. He remembered this so, I continued rationally. I said to him that I used to drive 5 hours to get here, 2 hours to pick him up, 2 hours to get back here, and then we spent 2 days here. I told him then that I would drive 2 hours to take him back home, 2 hours to get back here, and then 5 hours to get back to my home in New York. He comprehended that really fast actually when he said that it was 18 hours of driving every other weekend, and I said that it was MY responsibility as his parent to do that and I never gave him a hard time about it. He agreed. I then pointed out the contrast that in 6 years his mother has driven here to see him 2 or 3 times, and she can come see him every Saturday if she wants, and she only lives an hour away. If anything he at least comprehended why his sisters hate their mother.

At this point I had to be rather cunning in explaining to him that daddy has to work {and his mother doesn’t}, daddy has to organize trips to the zoo and the amusement park etc for him, his sisters and all of their friends {and his mother doesn’t} and most importantly that daddy does it because it is part of his responsibility as a parent. I added all of their sports {at two different schools} doctor’s appointments, library trips, grocery shopping, and a host of other things daddy has to do for them and himself, and then asked him if he could understand why he doesn’t have time to take them an hour each way to see their mother who won’t make the trip themselves? I absolutely hate the fact that that freak of a pathetic excuse for a mother {a fucking mother of all creatures!} forced me to have to have that talk with my son. This is the bulk of the reason that my oldest daughter can’t be trusted alone in the same room with her mother. As much as she dislikes her brother and sister, she hates her mother {really really hates her mother} because of this type of crap. I’ve had to hold her as she cried through long diatribes about how she hates her mother for doing this to her brother, and no matter what any of us do we just can’t keep her from damaging him at will.

I also had to have the talk with him about responsibility. This is not an easy talk with any child much less one that has ADHD big time, and misses his mommy. I had to ask him if he understood why he gets punished for things. In a roundabout sort of way we came to the conclusion that he is punished so he will admit what he did and then hopefully not do it again. Sometimes he scares me at how easily he just “gets it” sometimes, but he reasoned out rather quickly that his mother blames everyone else for everything. He even started saying how he wished that he could just meet with his mother at the court house like he used to, but then changed his tune when he remembered on his own that they can’t. He remembered on his own that they can’t because she couldn’t follow the rules, and then even noted that she still blames everyone else for that too. In the end of the conversation I had to head off to work, and I had a crying 9 year old boy clutched to me. This is simply more of the wonderful things that the so called “mother” of these children doesn’t have to deal with when she creates this kind of damage. Aside from the fact that she would never reduce herself to going to a job either, she wouldn’t take something like this head on and would simply assign names to blame.

Needless to say I had the wonderful job of filling out an inch thick stack of paperwork for all of my kid’s schools last night after work. These things seem trivial but they grate on me. I do all the hard work, get no support whatsoever {financial or emotional} from their mother, and as always I just hang myself on the cross out front in an attempt to be above all of that. She sweeps in every few months and damages her son, and for what? Her desperate need to control all of these scenarios has forced me to treat her like an enemy combatant, and I would be an idiot if I didn’t. You really need to think about it all to truly grasp the situation as it stands. Mother’s are supposed to be the one person in the world that loves you and cares for you above all other things. This mother won’t even visit her kids because she has to have them in her world. In her dangerous, irresponsible, state certified unsafe, world of despair, misery and much much worse, and if she doesn’t get it then she will completely destroy her only son to get it. Most people can’t even comprehend doing this, and there is a reason for it! It is below the level of “normal evil” that the average person can even comprehend. It will take an army of Oprah Winfrey’s to convince me of anything different ;8o)

Other Crap This Weirdo Publishes... Mental Notes& Random Musings {Daily Blog} The Crow's Nest {The Homepage of J~ Crow}

Nothing that was printed here was intended to offend anyone, and if it did, screw ya, you begged for it. If you believe that there are some measures that can be taken to change me, then please feel free to pray for me, and while you are at it yourself, because you read this far, and if you hated every minute of it, then you are an idiot, not me, or the other people who like what I have to say! .. Jeremy

All writings Copyright © 2008 .. The Crow's Nest

Saturday, 16 August 2008

A Murder of Crows - Volume 20

I probably should have stayed in bed. I don’t know what the hell was up with me while I tried to sleep today, but I kept waking up with the strangest dreams. Most of them involved my cat, which was a bit strange, but at the same time wasn’t completely unexpected. The stupid thing meowls like it’s in heat all the time, and refuses to keep a non nocturnal sleeping pattern, so it has been getting on everyone’s nerves around here pretty badly. Then there is the other problem where it is an eight year old cat, and my aunt’s three year old cat happens to be a bully. For those of you that have been reading my writings for a while, you can understand that my aunt’s brain turns to tapioca pudding when animals are involved so she doesn’t get the animal structure in the house through her rosey colored glasses.

Now does this mean that Duchess {my cat} gets beaten up by Lucy {her cat} all the time? Not in the least, and this is the part of it all that is so hard to explain unless you have one of those relatives that seems to have brain damage when pets are concerned. Her cat is a bully, and a con man just like most cats are, so she torments the dogs when nobody is looking, and runs the house with an iron fist. Duchess prefers to sleep all day, and is unimpressed with such Animal Farm style hierarchical structure, and allows Lucy to do whatever she does upstairs while she sleeps in the basement. Now of course my aunt {animal disfunctionate} will not listen to any one of the six other people in the house that try to explain to her that her cat terrorizes the house, just like the four dogs, and six cats that we have buried in the back yard that belonged to her {long story .. all buried there before she moved in .. I practically run the dysfunctional pet cemetery in town} and that will never change. Life in Tinsel Town goes on.

Duchess is the new cat in the house, much older, and subjected to a house full of cats before going to the Animal Shelter, full of cats, and then here to a house full of dogs and a cat. She knows how to play the game, and she appears to be an unusually gifted cat when it comes to getting what she wants. The obvious tone that she uses when she caterwauls all note either screams “feed me,” “play with me,” pay attention to me,” or in some cases “get up you lazy asses,” and gets what she wants when she wants it. Night time is also the time when she deals with certain “issues” that the dogs don’t seem to have the intelligence to take care of during the day. When Lucy comes downstairs to push Duchess around she usually encounters a surprise that befuddles her poor little bullying brain, which usually ends up in my aunt’s bedroom with Lucy hiding under the bed and Duchess trying to tear her apart. This in turn causes my aunt to ream the rest of us out for letting Duchess bully her poor defenseless cat, and the rest of us wanting to take her poor defenseless cat and put it where her last six poor defenseless cats ended up! It shows a certain level of cunning in her cat to end up in the one place where manipulation will create the sympathy required to keep her iron paw on the pulse of what is going on in the house, but again we are dealing with an unstable individual as it pertains to animals.

Needless to say after a night of nightmares that were along the lines of waking up to all the animals in the house being killed by Lucy the spawn of Satan and a stray cat that he had in a drunken night of indiscretion, I woke up late. It wouldn’t have been too bad except it pushes my schedule back an hour, which changes my usual daily activities just enough to make me a bit grumpy. The first of which is having to go to the gym when my usual cast of characters have gone home and a new cast of characters are there. This is both a good and a bad thing. The good part of it all is that all of the mentally handicapped people from the group home are in there after I leave. It’s good for the soul to walk into the place and be greeted by eight people that are genuinely happy to see you, very interested in how your day is going, and very happy to tell you about their own day. I don’t know all of their names but I get a smile when they are all around because they are very nice people. The fact that they are escorted in by a bunch of hotter than hell grad students who serve as their aides doesn’t hurt either, but they don’t seem as happy to see me.

The bad side is the “Jump Nazis” that now fill the gym usually after I leave, and are the reason I get up a bit early to make sure that I can get into the gym and out again before they get there. Most of these are college students, but they have been recruiting lately and walking into the joint was almost dangerous. These guys and girls usually take very heavy weights and stand in the middle of the walkways and jump up and down, or do very long sweeping motions with them making the place almost closed down the whole time they are in there. Today in particular they had just about every square inch of walkway covered by each of them holding Olympic size bars {seven feet, fifty five pounds} and jumping up and down blocking every machine in the joint. My mentally handicapped little buddies were all huddled in the corner practically watching them. After catching up with my little buddies I proceeded to walk through all the Jump Nazis to get to all the machines I needed. The trick is to not humor people like this in the least.

The icing on the cake was when my mentally handicapped little buddies left and the Jump Nazis decided to have a huddle and start talking loudly about all of them. I tried to do my preacher curls and ignore them all until one of them decided that it was important to talk about Jerry {the one that has to have a guide dog as he is also a severe stroke victim} and they all were whining like crybabies about how the dog was going to cause an accident. My years of going to this particular gym, that dog has been completely unassuming and usually lounged around behind the machines and completely out of the way. I wish the Jump Nazis would learn from his example, but I saw an opportunity to do something I like to do from time to time, and couldn’t help myself. This would be pissing off a large number of people, many of which are much bigger than me, in a fit of self righteous indignation. Its fun, you all should try it some time. I piped up from my preacher bench, “Unlike a bunch of two hundred pound people jumping around in every free space in the place with seven foot iron poles on their shoulders,” which elicited the type of response one would have expected. It just goes to show that steroids and animal fur make some people impossible to deal with ;8o)

Other Crap This Weirdo Publishes... Mental Notes& Random Musings {Daily Blog} The Crow's Nest {The Homepage of J~ Crow}

Nothing that was printed here was intended to offend anyone, and if it did, screw ya, you begged for it. If you believe that there are some measures that can be taken to change me, then please feel free to pray for me, and while you are at it yourself, because you read this far, and if you hated every minute of it, then you are an idiot, not me, or the other people who like what I have to say! .. Jeremy

All writings Copyright © 2008 .. The Crow's Nest

Wednesday, 13 August 2008

Spike's Wishes

Spike's Wishes for All of Us:

Oh that today we not afraid of our essential solitude!
That we are able to extract what joy there may be in life today wherever we may be.
For life is sacred and we don't really know how long we have here.
Let us celebrate life deeply.

Wherever we are, that we don't have too many regrets over what could have been.
That when we are stuck, we remember that we have options even if we do not know recognize them yet.
Knowing that all of us are capable of great things that go unacknowledged,
That we will find those great things and do them anyway.

Oh that we embrace all of who we are!
That we love carefully and selectively and honestly.
That we do not negate our selves for the benefit of others
who would use and abuse us.

To know as much happiness as we have known pain,
as much love as we have known hatred,
as much comfort as we have known heartbreak.
That we keep striving until we can strive no more.


*posting from a library in the middle of nowhere island maine.
*will be back in civ Sunday night.

Wednesday, 6 August 2008

Dear Asswipe 7/5/08

A big fuck you going out to V.E.S.I.D. for operational failure.
Taking the side of the stoopid job developer in demanding I get a "return to work" note for a vertigo attack-- bovine fecal matter.
Furthermore, as far as "return to work," what work?
Screw off.
If you aren't going to help me, then get the fuck out of my way.

No love,
the traumatic brain-injury malcontent on your overflowing caseload.

Monday, 4 August 2008

The Crow Murders Movies - Volume 1

I had one of those off days last night when all of my friends were either off making better friends, working over time or doing things that I wasn’t included in {thank God} which left me time to take my daughter out to the movies. She had been nagging to go out with my friends and me on Saturday nights {which ain’t gonna happen because I need ME time sometimes} so it made pretty good sense all around. The movie we went to see was “Hellboy 2 The Golden Army” as I figured it was best to see wholesome entertainment in an effort to raise my child properly, and it was a delightful surprise all around.

Don’t get me wrong or anything here, because I realize the movie made money and all, but relatively speaking, it wasn’t the box office bash that many of the other movies out there can brag about being. I can almost understand this as I have found that most of the really good movies don’t do very well, and the intolerable movies are pure gold {see my review on “There Will Be Blood” as in shooting out of your eyes for having watched that crap} and that is how Hollywood works. Hellboy 2 was one of the best movies I had seen in a very long time. It likened me back to the feeling I had when I saw Terminator 2, in the sense that it was the sequel to a decent movie, but completely blew the first one away, and more over could stand perfectly fine on its own. My daughter who had never seen the first one was easily enamored with the movie and even was able to pick up quickly on the subtle humor that should have been left over from the first, but again stood well on its own.

Truth be told, the movie not only had a great story line, but they took impeccable steps to polish all of the details. Certain areas of the movie that easily could have been washed off as fill, were crammed together with brilliantly thought out humor that added to the story, and left me feeling particularly happy with the outcomes. Without spoiling the movie the most important part I can think of is that they made damn sure that the “bad guy” in the movie {although more misguided and perhaps a martyr more than anything} was without a doubt, the baddest mother fucker I had personally ever seen in a movie. Not so much because he was unmitigated evil, or anything like that, but more because he was someone that actually could take on the “Prince of Hell” {which Hellboy for the most part is regardless of which hat he wears on Earth} and make you believe that he was every bit his match. The character building, and the “dirty little secret” that went on throughout the movie was also well thought out and quite engaging.

The only knock I can put on Hellboy 2 is the fact that its one hour and fifty minutes of entertainment was sketched together so perfectly that it flew by in a haze. It’s probably going to require another sitting, or at the very least it is going to need to be in my DVD collection the second it makes it to the Wal-Mart shelves, but I am already clamoring for another one. They built a rather intriguing story that was going well beyond the boundaries of the movie anyway, so I am assuming that they already have those ambitions, but you never know {remember Remo Williams?} what will happen in the minds of the Hollyweird. Should Hellboy 3 find its way into a theatre near me I can assure you that it will be one of the few movies that has me in there on the first night come hell or high water. Pardon the pun. Along those lines, despite how bad I though “The Order of the Phoenix” was, I can assure you that Harry Potter might be the other one.

Now to contrast this with the other “Comic Book” movie out in the theaters, I did end up seeing “The Dark Knight” which of course had been another one of those “Must See” movies for me this summer. Although it was a good movie {note the lack of “very” in there} it couldn’t wipe Hellboy 2’s ass in just about every aspect of entertainment value. Heath Leger went out with a very good performance, as I thought he would, but the part became far too droll to comprehend after a while, and the ending left a lot to be desired. The ending of Hellboy 2, and more over the bad guy {and towards the end his army of minions} that Hellboy had to deal with made Batman and the Joker look like unimpressive school children. Of course in all fairness, Hellboy 2 wasn’t even the best movie I saw this year, but that was only the fate of being released the same year as Indiana Jones, which despite the fact that it could have crossed that barrier of going “one too many times to the well” was also a masterful piece and more importantly, tied up all of the loose ends of all the Indiana Jones movies perfectly. It was almost like a gift to the fans of Indiana Jones, while Hellboy 2 was more like a treat to fans of great action movies ;8o)

Other Crap This Weirdo Publishes... Mental Notes& Random Musings {Daily Blog} The Crow's Nest {The Homepage of J~ Crow}

Nothing that was printed here was intended to offend anyone, and if it did, screw ya, you begged for it. If you believe that there are some measures that can be taken to change me, then please feel free to pray for me, and while you are at it yourself, because you read this far, and if you hated every minute of it, then you are an idiot, not me, or the other people who like what I have to say! .. Jeremy

All writings Copyright © 2008 .. The Crow's Nest

Sunday, 27 July 2008

A Murder of Crows - Volume 19

The dog days of dieting are upon me. I happen to be lucky in the regards that if I want to lose a lot of weight fast, I can simply not eat, lift a lot of weights and let the muscle burn the fat off. A lot of men are like this, and it is one of the fortunate attributes of the gender. I noticed after the Mother of All the Evils’s left me, that anger led to testosterone, and by sheer fury I could bulk up in all the right places and lose the fat everywhere else, and that methodology has always stuck with me. At that time of course I went from a pathetic 220 pounds of fat, dumb and happy, and shrunk down to a measly 148 pounds at one point, but I had a lot of help with that. Since she had left me when I was in the hospital with Chicken Pox, I was already on the way to losing the first 30 pounds because of the pneumonia. I don’t suggest that route for anyone, but fate was on my side at the time I suppose. The weight lifting came along in there because I was so weak when I got out of the hospital that I couldn’t even lift my 8 month old daughter.

The rage of the betrayal kinda took all of that and made it out to be something far worse eventually. I was completely exercise bulimic, so that no matter how much I ate, I was guaranteed to run into the gym and work it out of me so hard that I gained no nutrition what so ever. I had that wonderful heroin physique and a horrendous temper, and aside from all of my other problems I was rather pathetic on top of it all. When the doctor finally changed my meds it all turned around anyway, and I started actually putting on muscle and at the end of my last “health” spurt, I was maxed out at about where I am now, although I looked a hell of a lot better. Of course I was about 5 years younger too, so that would stand to reason. At that time I was about 175, with a 30’ waist, 42 “ shoulders and chest, and I was able to ignore the fact that they don’t make clothes to fit people like that. This is a big secret in the mind of a hopeless physical manipulator {aka anorexic, bulimic} because clothes made for normal people will always make you look and feel fat.

Now I am struggling a bit again. I seem to have a better grasp of my mental facilities, but that is probably more a symptom of age more than anything else. After years of being in an impossible to fathom online relationship, and coming to grips with the fact that it was not only impossible, but perhaps more to the point, foolhardy, I was already well on the path to the level of “not giving a shit” that I had to be at to get as out of shape as I was this time around. I finally was looking at having to get larger pants so I could sit around and wallow in my self pity and eat, when I finally had enough of that. I went from 210 to as low as 178 and now am back up at 182, but my waistline is smaller still than 178 so I am assuming that I am on the turn around. The turn around being that point where you have stripped most of the fat and are now at the point of putting on heavier muscle. I still feel fat, and I still feel bloated all the time, and I actually don’t like looking at myself, which is the real reason I take pictures of myself every day. History has dictated that I am an idiot and I have to stay above the dangerous phase of getting in shape at the expense of my health. Well I figured the best thing to do at this point is take my last 50 bucks and buy some new clothes. Thank God for Wal-Mart because 50 dollars will buy you a week’s worth of clothes, and despite my body disfixiation, I can feel cool enough in Wal-Mart bought clothes. Go figure huh?

Wal-Mart is now stocking “athletic fit” clothing which filled me with a bit of jubilation. I never learn my lesson though, because I have fallen into that “athletic fit” trap all throughout my existence, and like anyone else that sells “athletic fit” clothing they are simply to make pudgy people feel better about themselves. My new “athletic fit” clothing are too tight in the shoulders, and way too baggy in the middle and when I first put them on they made me feel fat. Pretty sad huh? The trick during times like these that an old roommate of mine once told me when she was sick of killing myself through diet many years back is to turn to the side and look at yourself that way. This is why I remember to take pictures of myself from the side too, despite the vanity of it. From the side a guy can see his “shape” regardless of the clothing that he wears, and it works for women too, as long as they don’t assume they have to be shaped like a ballerina anyway. I do fit back into my old suits that had been tailored for my physique but again I had my affirmation that I am filling out more in the right places as the shoulders are tight. I am not thrilled in having to step up to 1X shirts just to move my arms, but then again they should stay tucked in easier ;8o)

Other Crap This Weirdo Publishes... Mental Notes& Random Musings {Daily Blog} The Crow's Nest {The Homepage of J~ Crow}

Nothing that was printed here was intended to offend anyone, and if it did, screw ya, you begged for it. If you believe that there are some measures that can be taken to change me, then please feel free to pray for me, and while you are at it yourself, because you read this far, and if you hated every minute of it, then you are an idiot, not me, or the other people who like what I have to say! .. Jeremy

All writings Copyright © 2008 .. The Crow's Nest

Friday, 25 July 2008

Trolling, Threatening, T.B.I.

On T.B.I., Trolls, and Threats

The pagan community on the internet is not united by any means. There are various factions and splinter groups. That is an average thing. A bunch of pagans together in one room can certainly fight like liberals and fundamentalists. Or, like frogs and snakes. That is probably average also. No biggie. I've been on the internet long enough to have my own opinions about cyberbullies and even to have acquired my very own cute little chicken trollette. That is no great woop either. I became interested in the study of cyberpsychology as a result of interpersonal conflicts on the web. And as I continued to force my brain to think in my own process of healing t.b.i., I grokked a few things about my own behavior and decisions:

1. I have acted like an ass at times on the interwebs. Oh well.
2. I made my apologies and amends. To the best of my ability, I endeavored to offer no excuses for my poor behavior.
3. I moved on.

I don't begrudge my detractors since I certainly have acted like an ass at times. In one instance, I was playing the part of an undercover reporter and that was the height of stupidity. I was deceptive. I was dishonest. People from various sides of that particular dispute were pissed at me for good reason.

In that particular scenario, I took responsibility for what I had done and endured the fallout. I learned from it. And I have to thank my good friend Jer for helping me think about the situation with clarity. Folks displayed various levels of acceptance as is their right. There are still snarks thrown in my general direction from time to time. To that I say, "Whatever." If I am going to champion freedom of electronic expression, I have to be willing to risk running into some expression that I don't approve of. Oh well. I don't have to engage in mental masturbation today. I know how to use the back button. I can put on my big girl panties and move on.

Unlike a few pathological relatives of my childhood who did their best to infest my being with the soul-sickness of not-good-enough, I do not intend to live out the rest of my life apologizing for my own stupidity of a year or two ago. I don't trouble myself with the notion that I am somehow not good enough for or less than any particular person or group of people. It is rather meaningless to me. I have moved on. I am writing about this today because I am making some connections within my own self about my own self.

* * *

Lest any of you misunderstand, the assumptions about me and the snarks do not fall under the category of cyber-bullying. People can fight, disagree, blow up at each other, call each other names, and all sorts of other stuff without that falling under pretend labels and pretend diagnoses. People do not always understand or approve of my choices. I don't have to explain a damn thing to anyone. I am free to associate with the people that I choose to associate with. I am free to go where I go and to do what I do as long as I don't impinge upon the rights of others. Others are free to do the same. Not everyone wishes me well and I don't give a damn about that anyway. The stuff of conflict is not automatically classified as cyberbullying.

The encyclopedia at P.C. magazine defines a cyberbully as "A person who uses the Internet to harass or intimidate someone else." Someone who calls me a troll or stupid or insane or a toxic fluffbunny or a fucktard is expressing an opinion. Their opinion may or may not have some validity. I am free to engage them in some ritualized name-calling or to respond or not respond in any legal way that I choose to.

The folks at tech target add the word "threatening" to the definition of a cyberbully. Sameer at the Cyberbullying Blog points out that the behavior is repetitive. There is a pattern. It is more than one occurrence. Someone e-mailed three requests to me to close her e-mail box on one of my domains. I have an off-line life. I hadn't checked my e-mail box there in a while so I only got the messages yesterday.

The first e-mail (dated June 29) states that there will be mythological salt pits in my future if I contact the young woman again. The second (dated July1) makes an unflattering inference about either my size or some quality of mine. She asks me in the second e-mail to delete her and in the third (dated July 2) to remove her. I know she meant for me to close her e-mail box but the choice of words was amusing to me. I did as requested. I have no intention of contacting her again. As long as the young woman does not continue to threaten me with mythological salt pits in my future or other stuff, we are both free to carry on in the absence of the well-wishes of the other.

The above example falls short on the repeated part of threat inherent in the definitions of cyberbullying. Here are some things that do qualify as cyberbullying:
maintaining a website that is designed to harass someone or threaten them,
posts on a website or forum or journal or blog that tell someone to watch out because the poster or friends of the poster may show up at any time,
making up lies about someone and publishing them on the web (e.g. the teen who killed herself on account of some stuff that was posted about her on MySpace and the teen who killed himself after being harassed on Bebo more recently),
texting someone for the purpose of intimidation,
making repeated fun of someone with social difficulties brought on by Asperger's on internet forums,
provoking someone in an e-group into rages and then mocking the rages,
sending someone tons of spam or bogus e-mails,
repeated racial slurs used in a chatroom against another participant.

The thing about traumatic brain injury, as well as many other disabilities, is that we are more vulnerable whether we want to acknowledge that or not. We may be more vulnerable to cyberbullying because of errors in our judgment. We may be too quick to trust others on-line, too eager to expose personal information, too fast to offer up our struggles. We can participate in flame wars without understanding what we are getting into. We can become too casual about what we publish on our websites or blogs. We may wind up communicating via instant messenger with folks who do not wish us well. (In the early days after my brain injury, a woman began to call me every day. Mate was baffled by the sudden appearance of a new close friend in my life and did not understand the almost daily lengthy phone conversations. I didn't remember who this woman was or where I knew her from. Eventually, I discovered that the woman was the daughter-in-law of a friend who just liked to talk to people on the phone).

Below are a few websites referenced in this post and a bunch that aren't. I recommend the "Are you a cyberbully? Quiz," the cyberethics site for those who like academic stuff, the Donna Williams poem, and the "Shrink the Cyberbully Game" by virtue of their being different than the usual offerings.

The other stuff may help you decide what to do if you are being cyberbullied. Inclusion of the links do not imply the endorsement of any of the websites endorsing this post nor does it imply that I totally agree with every freaking thing said.

sapphoq healing t.b.i.,2542,t=cyberbully&i=40624,00.asp


Examples of cyberbullying.
Suggestions on handling cyberbullying.
A blog noting laws being passed in the United States.

Suggestions for parents.
Acknowledges that cyberbullying happens to adults too. Some simple advice.

Are you a cyberbully? Quiz.
Attention seekers from Bully-Online.
Cyberculture-- pretty cool stuff here.
Privacy from a cyber-business perspective.
Various links about cyberethics.
Identities, trolls, etc on usenet groups.
Search for copies of your pages on the web.
Archives of a site where trolls gathered proudly.
Writing: an excellent troll how to.
Usenet trolls.
More extensive classifications of trolls.

Griefers. [They are on Second Life also].
Classifications of flame warriors *the pictures are priceless.
Poem by Donna Williams.
Trolls on the Curezone forums [original aol article not on aol anymore.]
Study on trolls in a feminist forum.
Flaming, 1992.
More on usenet trolls, attacking in waves, use of the word "sockpuppets" to mean one person
posting to a board under different names in order to agree with themselves!

smurfs and bots

shrink the cyberbully game

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Wednesday, 16 July 2008

Itching For Audiobooks - Volume 1

I finally got sick of listening to the same audio books over and over again, and I think everyone around me was getting sick of me quoting sorry old insults from the Elenium or some mundane Harry Potterism. Of course I am still a creature of habit so I loaded up a bunch of Stephen King audio books and have been listening to them over the last couple of weeks. A few of them I had read a long time ago, and a few of them I hadn’t read so long ago, but can attest to the fact that I was still married when I read my last one so it wasn’t all that short of a time. For the most part I had given up on Stephen King as I started finding his writing style to be a bit boring, but he did write 2 of my top 10 all time favorite books, and has the honor of being number 1 with The Stand.

The first of the audio books by the local author, I had loaded up was the other of the top ten that he had written and it had been so long since I read it I had forgotten quite a bit of it. This book would be Salam’s Lot which thanks to a bad movie adaptation and most people’s inability to sit and read a good book, has been relegated to the level of “crap” amongst most people, but seriously even with it being over 30 years old is literary genius. Being his second published work behind Carrie it was most likely Stephen King’s coming out party, and at the time technically sealed his right to be an author, but let me tell you, you haven’t even scratched the surface until you hear the audio book.

The person reading the audio book’s name escapes me but he is the guy that does all those movie preview voice over’s “in a time not so long ago, in a little town” that makes you desperately want to see the movie that he is plugging. With the book actually being read in that voice that usually makes you shell out 9 bucks for a movie that disappoints you in the end, you can see why his reading of Salem’s Lot makes it almost more fascinating then when I had read the book at eleven years old. The absolute “creepiness” of the book as he would read off the times “10:10 am” and then real into what was going on in the mundane lives of the town of Salem’s Lot had me enthralled, and it was harder than usual to work as I was simply wrapped in the story.

Stephen King read off the prologue of the book, and explained in his own words the thinking that went into the book. His childhood romanticism of Bram Stoker’s Dracula, his explaining of how he thought the Lord of the Rings was loosely based on Dracula {which I have often thought myself} and how he had gotten wrapped in the gruesome Vampire chronicles that one finds in the comic books. He explained how he wanted to take the old world European town that was frocked with Vampires and turn it into a mad cap American tale in a big city. Fortunately for all of us his infinitely more brilliant wife convinced his to make it in an American version of an Eastern European hamlet, and Jerusalem’s Lot was created. I think myself and he admitted it in the prologue that in the end it became more appealing as he went to stay closer to the Bram Stoker vision, and allow his characters to become heroes, than to go the Tales from the Crypt route he originally intended.

The second of these was a book that kinda bored me when I read it and was officially the last Stephen King book I had cracked, which is The Girl Who Loved Tom Gordon. This book was wrapped in surreal controversy after it had been released, and in my mind had been a far more interesting story than the book itself. For those who had forgotten, immediately after the book was released Stephen King got hit by a Van, and almost died, but was physically fucked up to match his mentally fucked up. Tom Gordon then blew out his arm and really never pitched for the Red Sox again. More over when he made his comeback it was with the Yankees to be a real pain in the Red Sox ass. Stephen King has since recovered, and has watched the Red Sox win 2 World Series so I guess he can stop his self moderated taboo about writing about baseball characters, but then again there was this book to sort out again.

First and foremost let me tell you that the book was narrated by Ann Heche who was famous for her own weird antics involving Ellen Degeneres, which basically ended her career as a sexy starlet. Guys for some ungodly reason despite their wanted need to watch women kiss each other, couldn’t get into watching her in sexy roles anymore, and she went on with her life, got married and had children. Go figure, but that is a little off the point here. She was the perfect person to read this book though, because I was totally wrapped in her voice. More to the point, I have to admit that her voice got me totally HOT. I realize that it is shocking to a lot of people that I am so easily amused, but I think it is the only audio book that I heard every word of. This, in the end was a good thing, because I think I had missed what was actually an excellent book the first time around. It also had one of those endings that left you with just enough information to be satisfied, but not enough information to complete the tale. I had forgotten that or perhaps had missed that point, or perhaps I was pissed off that I couldn’t listen to Ann’s sexy voice anymore.

If anyone out there wants to find out more about these audio books or would like to listen to them for themselves please drop me a line and I can make sure that they somehow accidentally get on your hard drive as they had mine ;8o)

Other Crap This Weirdo Publishes... Mental Notes& Random Musings {Daily Blog} The Crow's Nest {The Homepage of J~ Crow}

Nothing that was printed here was intended to offend anyone, and if it did, screw ya, you begged for it. If you believe that there are some measures that can be taken to change me, then please feel free to pray for me, and while you are at it yourself, because you read this far, and if you hated every minute of it, then you are an idiot, not me, or the other people who like what I have to say! .. Jeremy

All writings Copyright © 2008 .. The Crow's Nest

Sunday, 13 July 2008

Host Hostage has been lolCatified by Owlmirror

Below is an excellent rendition of Wafergate which has been LOLCatified by the Illustrious Owlmirror.
(sapphoq reviews says: full of win!)

The following was copied and pasted from Owlmirror's comment over at P.Z. Meyer's science blog:

Being aware of All Internet Traditions™, I think we all know that no Internet Phenomenon is complete until it has been properly LOLCATIFIED.

Thus, we present for ur lolz:




Act I, Scene I
University of Central Florida, Catholic Chapel









Act II, Scene I
Diocese of Orlando


Act II, Scene II
Catholic League


Act III, Scene I
University of Central Florida


Act III, Scene II
University of Central Florida


Act IV, Scene I
Pharyngula Headquarters


PHARYNGULA: (Repeat above 1000 tiems)

Act IV, Scene II
Catholic League


Act IV, Scene III
Pharyngula Headquarters

PHARYNGULA: (Repeat above 1000 tiems)

Act IV, Scene IV
Pharyngula Headquarters


TEH END.......?

Posted by: Owlmirror | July 12, 2008 4:37 PM

Saturday, 12 July 2008

Google Search Meme

snagged from
a blogging buddy on Live Journal

Type in what the questions ask you into google search and use the first thing that comes up as your answer.

1. Type in "[your name] needs" in the Google search:
2. Type in "[your name] looks like" in Google search:
3. Type in "[your name] likes" in Google search:
4. Type in "[your name] says" in Google search:
5. Type in "[your name] wants" in Google search:
6. Type in "[your name] does" in Google search:
7. Type in "[your name] hates" in Google search
8. Type in "[your name] goes" in Google search:
9. Type in "[your name] loves" in Google search:
10. Type in "[your name] has" in Google search:
11. Type in "[your name] gets" in the Google search:
12. Type in "[your name] eats" in the Google search:
13. Type in "[your name] can" in the Google search:
14. Type in "[your name] drinks" in the Google search:
15. Type in "[your name] makes" in the Google search:

and my results

Spike needs to give "Carpocalypse" to another station.
spike looks like a bubble about to burst
SPiKE LiKES blends sensible design fundamentals with exceptional creativity.
SPIKE SAYS, "The Man Is Not My Father!"
Spike wants the girl.
Spike does [the] right thing.
Spike hates chickens.
Spike goes to Venice.
Spike loves Luke.
Spike has wide economic impact
.Spike gets more macho.
Spike eats a worm.
Spike can copy word revisions.
Spike drinks at home.
Spike makes [her] bones.


Spike needs...another station, [another selection, or to change the channel].
Spike looks like a bubble about to burst.
Spike likes the sensible, [the practical, the logical].
Spike says, "This man is not my father."
Spike wants the girl.
Spike does the right thing.
Spike hates chickens [who lack guts and fortitude].
Spike goes to Venice [in her dreams].
Spike loves Luke.
Spike has wide economic impact.
Spike gets more macho.
Spike [has never] eat[en] a worm.
Spike can...revise [words].
Spike drinks [diet soda] at home.
Spike makes [no] bones [about it].


Spike loves Luke but she wants the girl.
She makes no bones about it.
It is the girl she wants, not Luke.

In her dreams, spike sweeps the young woman
off her feet and they fly off to Mexico for a holiday.
Or perhaps to San Francisco, San Diego, Montreal.

Spike has been accused of being macho,
called a bull-dyke, or a chicken before
but she does not shrug from doing the right thing.

She is sensible, practical, and logical.
She knows that when it comes to straights
the fantasy is better than the reality.

She stays home, drinking diet soda
and watching a corny movie where the heroine says,
"This man is not my father."

Sighing, she changes the station.
Then she takes out the latest manuscript
and revises the words. She dreams

of making a huge splash, an impact.
She dreams of making it big
in books and in love.

Tuesday, 24 June 2008

Marriage for ALL

I think that the government should get out of the marriage business completely.
I think that anyone who gets married in a church, circle, synagogue, temple... that should be called marriage regardless of the genders of the folks involved.
I think that anyone who gets married before a judge...that should be called a civil union.
Both words should be interchangeable with the same rights and responsibilities.

But failing that, then YES absolutely-- screw this civil union/domestic partner crap.

It's the right thing to do.

Saturday, 21 June 2008

No readers, this one is not about any of my obsessive thoughts about VESID sucks.

Friday. Today is Friday. Friday it is. It is Friday today.
Friday is the day that mate and I go to the bookstore.
I got a Richard Dawkins book (passing nod to all those who hate him for being uppity, crass, and an atheist) which talks about evolution. I am studying my ancestors.

To those who don't know, I am technically an atheist along with being a witch, bisexual, woman, newly Discordian (yes dearheart, you do have to eat a hotdog without its' bun in a park on a Friday)-- Hail Eris, and an evolutionist. Oh yes; and hater of VESID (VESID sucks)-- I did promise an obsession free entry today didn't I, lover of my mate, the internet sleezy as it is at times, my dog and cats and frogs and trees and woods, defender of separation of church and state, supporter of civil rights for all civils.
So shoot me.

In the news: an autistic girl in Canada. Seems the educational aide went to a psychic who asked her, "Are you working with a girl whose name starts with a V?" (yes). "She is being sexually abused by a guy between the ages of 23 and 26." The school did the only logical thing-- Children's Aid Society was called. (Americans: think Child Abuse Hotline or D.S.S.).
Mom was then presented with a list of "behaviors" that could possibly constitute signs and symptoms of sexual abuse. Mom protested. Victoria is severely autistic. The Children's Aid Society fortunately was not willing to put stock in a psychic's tip. The report was taken and then quickly dismissed. Mom has sought legal advice regarding the possibility of lawsuit. Meanwhile, Victoria is not going to school. Mom is not going to work. The two are home together all day.

What stupidity! The "for entertainment only" psychic prompted this whole thing. And as almost always, it is the kids who suffer. Victoria was in a self-contained classroom with five other kids. She is non-verbal, entering puberty, lacks inhibitions. The principal interpreted licking a table and gyrating against staff bodies as being indicative of sexual abuse. Some people don't have the sense they were born with.

The psychic shold be prosecuted as being fraudalent, the teacher's aide should be fired, and Victoria should be going to school somewhere.

For dinner tonight-- pizza from a restaurant. Hooray. It was delicious. On the teevee, court teevee as usual. This morning-- dog and I walked our two miles. Mate has been ordered to walk two miles a day by his heart doc. Since he hasn't been or he is slowly working up to it (we will see) I've decided to do it for him. Perhaps he will have some benefits via osmosis.

I visited buddies on multiply tonight. The journals: live, commie, and insane-- will be done tomorrow. The miscellaneous ones: myspace, 360, paganspace-- Sunday.

I'm still doing second life stuff.

if for some strange reason you feel compelled to join up. Don't bother getting the paid account. Leave me your secondlife name in your comments and I will contact you to give you the url to my secondlife home where you can stay for free.

I am learning 3D building and scripting there. Not to put too fine a spin on things, my buildings all resemble something that someone with brain damage would create. (Well, I do have brain damage. It's called "traumatic brain injury" in polite society.).

Tomorrow is run through the house wildly picking up crap and sticking it somewhere out of sight day. My dad wants to come up on Sunday if it isn't raining.

There. A semi-average post.


Thursday, 19 June 2008

A Murder of Crows - Volume 18

My forehead is still throbbing as I sit here and write this today. I have been to the gym already, and it was a slow day there. Most of my gang didn’t show up so I got to get my workout in without much interruption, but as I sit here I am amazed at the pain that is coming from right above my eye. It will sound like a long story but it really isn’t. I think the whole event took a little under 15 minutes, but it felt like it was a lot longer, and to say the least, I am too old for it all.

Let me start by saying that this July, God Bless, I will be 19 years sober. It is a small miracle for the most part, but not too shocking anymore to any of those that had seen me drink. I was an unearthly monster that was full of rage before I drank everything I could get my hands on, and alcohol managed to strip what little conscience I had left to get the rest of my rage out of my system. Since the last day I drank back in 1989 at the ripe age of 19 {yep, you know you were bad when you never even made it to legal drinking age before the gig was up!} I have formulated the belief that I am completely and utterly intolerant to alcohol, and I have no control over it. Before I get all preachy here, let me say that this relates, because I also happen to have no control over alcohol in other people as well. For many reasons I also happen to be intolerant of alcohol in other people. Again to specify, I don’t care if anyone drinks and actually envy those that can quite good naturedly but I have never been able to tolerate those that let alcohol do to them what it did to me.

I have a routine. My routine is what keeps my day to day going along smoothly, and for the most part holds my sanity in for as long as it possibly can. It consists of getting up each day by 11, hitting the gym by 12, getting some writing done by 3, getting the kids off the bus around then, getting dinner into me by 4, and heading out to work by 5. The second part of my day consists of getting through work as best I can, leaving at 2, stopping at Dunkin Donuts for a large Ice Coffee {which I will keep adding ice to and drink from until it is water the next night when I leave work}, get home by 2:30, sleep by 4am, rinse, repeat. Anything that interferes with all of this is a burden, and that includes all of the doctor’s appointments I take the kids to, picking them up for sporting events, etc etc etc. With three kids there is a lot of etc etc etc. What really drives me up the wall are the extra things that really should have never happened at all, and especially if they are pointless. At one time rescuing raccoon cubs might have filled that bill, but I have grown up over the last few years and have incorporated “The Next Right Thing” theory that has allowed for “extra” hassles in my day to day.

What happened last night was not an acceptable “extra” hassle from start to finish, and my head still hurts so I am a bit pissy about it. On my way through the Dunkin Donuts drive thru there was a sign saying “Window Broken Come Inside” which I hate to do because it takes longer and my clumsiness often forces me to drop my coffee. Of course it is the only one that is open at 2 am so I haven’t really got my choices in the matter. I went inside and there was a crowd of sorts in there that appeared to be exuberant over the Celtics win over the Lakers, and had probably closed the bar they watched the game at. One of these guys was a belligerent Lakers fan that appeared to be barely old enough to drink if he was at all, and he was explaining very loudly to everyone about how the Celtics cheated. This is typical for a Lakers fan, because like their baseball equivalent {the New York Yankees} they have never actually lost a game in the team’s history, but have been woefully screwed repeatedly thus interfering with their perfect seasons they inevitably would have had. The entire country is used to this mental disorder and usually ignores it.

This is where I come in, of course, because I have never known what was good for me or prudent in the least, so after 5 minutes in line I ordered my coffee with this yappy little twit bumping into me, and shouting at everyone. When I finally had my coffee and could have made my big escape unscathed the little red Jeremy on the left shoulder said “Come on, be a smart ass. That’s always fun isn’t it?” and the little white Jeremy on the right shoulder had nothing to say about the matter. I said in an undertone as I walked by, “The Lakers had no business even being there,” and continued on my way. Hey! The truth hurts and all, but sooner or later someone has to educate the poor lad, and who better to do it than me?

The little prick wheeled me around and punched me hard in the forehead. The combination of drunk and stupid had interfered with his aim because I am pretty sure, looking back that he was aiming for my nose or my eye. Twelve inches of solid bone surrounding rock, was none to kind on the little moron’s hand, as he staggered back from what was probably 2 or 3 broken fingers. I barely noticed this because I had stars in front of my eyes and I think tears were probably welling up. I had dropped my ice coffee after all and that always makes me sad. Phase 2 had to be executed though because this little Peckerhead was about 4 inches taller than me and easily half my weight. To be honest with you, my arms were bigger than his neck, and I was rather pissed off that all of the mouthy assholes in the place simply cleared off and left us a lot of room. I am way too old for this shit!

It is after all the responsibility of the old to teach the younger generation things like manners, tact, and dignity, so I did end up grabbing the kid by his neck and dragging him outside while he started yelling in beergoggle about how I was assaulting him. As I had to wrench him from the door that he was clinging onto with his good hand I was starting to get really angry. When I finally got the twit outside I punched him with sober aim clean in the nose and he laid there until the police came and picked him up. I stood there smoking a cigarette until they got there and since the gentleman was a known issue in the area after sporting events the police just took my name and number and let me go about my night. They of course wanted to know if I wanted to press charges and I said no, because I was probably owed from when I was his age. It made the officer laugh actually, when he responded in kind. My head still hurts, so it isn’t exactly bragging.

I went back inside to get another coffee, which the girl behind the counter gladly gave me free of charge, and several of the idiots in there were cheering me, so I told them to shut it, because they were equally as embarrassing to me. The recent events probably made it so that the rest of the beer balls had been put away. I then went home and slowly poked around the web through my cloudy vision, and slept pretty good albeit with a harder time getting out of bed than the last week or so had been. Fortunately I have this little writing side line that I do, and I can find some humor in this crap, and am already planning on incorporating this into my article for my mouse fart this week. That drive thru window better be open the night the Red Sox win the World Series though ;8o)

Other Crap This Weirdo Publishes... Mental Notes& Random Musings {Daily Blog} The Crow's Nest {The Homepage of J~ Crow}

Nothing that was printed here was intended to offend anyone, and if it did, screw ya, you begged for it. If you believe that there are some measures that can be taken to change me, then please feel free to pray for me, and while you are at it yourself, because you read this far, and if you hated every minute of it, then you are an idiot, not me, or the other people who like what I have to say! .. Jeremy

All writings Copyright © 2008 .. The Crow's Nest