Obama announces endorsement of gay marriage; religious conservatives outraged ocean is wet May 10, 2012Posted by Administrator in Cultural Pessimism, Family, Idiots, Liberal Hypocrisy, Liberal self-loathing, Politics.
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I mean, honestly. Is anyone surprised about GodKing’s announcement? Anyone?
The End of Parenting is Near June 20, 2008Posted by Administrator in Creepiness, Cultural Pessimism, Family, Idiots, Leviathan, Liberal Hypocrisy, Liberal self-loathing, Mechanistic Relativism, Parenting.
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The Nanny State shows increasing signs of ascendancy when a Quebec court decides that dad has been too harsh in forbidding his daughter from attending a school trip.
Madam Justice Suzanne Tessier of the Quebec Superior Court ruled on Friday that the father couldn’t discipline his daughter by barring her from the school trip.
The judge’s decision, made from the bench, applies only to the girl’s unusual circumstances, lawyers for both sides said, trying to dispel visions of grounded teenagers rushing to the nearest courthouse to overturn their parents’ punishments.
Madam Justice’s “logic”?
Lucie Fortin, the lawyer representing the 12-year-old, said the judge found that depriving the girl of the school trip was an excessive punishment.
She said the girl has already been forbidden to use the Internet and her father also punished her by cancelling her participation in an extracurricular event.
The trip, a three-day outing within Quebec supervised by teachers and volunteer parents, marked her Grade 6 class graduation from elementary school.
“She’s becoming a big girl. … It’s a unique event in her life,” Ms. Fortin said.
How in the name of all creation does a freaking court decide if poor little Spoiled BratGirl is a “big” enough girl to override Dad’s legitimate discipline concerns?
This crap is going on in Canada, I know. But it may well meander its way down here, at which point, if I am still a parent, I must consider moving to another country that still recognizes the family as the primary social unit of society.
What is the logical end of this sort of State intervention? What kinds of kids can we look forward to?
See, now little spoiled Mackenzie can now sue her dad and get the correct car with the correct color.
This is no little cavil I am ranting about here. This is nothing less than the huge signpost that society as we know it is about to crumble.
Talk about rising divorce rates, homosexual marriage, rising teen pregnancy and STD transmission rates. Yes, those are all there as well. Take away a parent’s right to discipline, and now the State is signaling that it is the primary arbiter of society. And we all know how well the State does when it manages the monopoly on some service/commodity: It all goes to hell.
This is, simply put, really bad, bad news.
ANCHORESS as usual has more info, as well as coverage on the Canadian school that called Child Welfare on a family because a teacher’s aid felt the child was being abused based on what a local psychic had been telling her, and the school administration bought this nonsense!! Anchoress also talks about Canada’s outlawing of spanking and its lockdown on free speech.
Wow January 22, 2008Posted by Administrator in Family, Music.
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Now, compare this:
(the kid is Eddie’s son, Wolfgang) Near as I can tell, the latter image is from last August (Eddie went into rehab in March, I believe).
I have ranted at length in here about alcoholics and their levels of denial. . .but the woman I have ranted about seems to be doing better. . .and doesn’t Eddie look like a million bucks compared to his old self?
Here’s praying that both of these folks can persist in their sobriety.
A sore-assed bear Christmas December 25, 2007Posted by Administrator in Family, Idiots.
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Where to begin on this Feast of the Nativity?
For so many people, this time of the year is the pinnacle; time to both give and receive gifts, with both verbs leading to their own unique blessings. This year was no exception in that department. Our tree was LOADED with gifties, and it was a delight to watch my children take turns handing out and opening their own gifts. My wife and I were up till 2 and 1:30 AM, respectively, putting the last touches in order, and that too was more fun than it has been in some time.
Left just to ourselves, our family Christmas could go down as one of the best.
Sadly, there are other family members, and one of them has her head jammed so far up her ass she can’t hope to see straight. By itself, that might not be a problem, but -whether she means to or not- her chronic idiocy impacts others, including my wife. And after having watched this ordure for close on 20 years, culminating in what is quite possibly the most sad and absurd chapter yet in this tragicomic opera of untrammeled foolishness, I am now at the point of acting as a bear with a sore ass, and it’s time for me to unload. Even if it IS Christmas. Or maybe even BECAUSE it is Christmas.
This family member is a woman. Aunt, sister, mother, you try and figure it out. She has a penchant for being concerned about what other people think about her -sometimes, mostly all the WRONG times-, so I will take this minimal step of not identifying her exact role in the family, save to say this; she is NOT my wife, nor either of my daughters. Further, deponent sayeth not.
This fool woman has had a penchant for the complex-carbon molecules known as alcohol for many years. And like with so many people who allow themselves to get enslaved to something, it has gotten out-of-control in the past few years.
My wife, who is very devoted to this hapless dingbat, has tried various methods over the past 20 years to assist said dingbat in pulling her head out of her nether regions. A major intervention in 1987 was met with assurances that she had things under control and would cut back her drinking. Like all loving relatives, my wife and the others involved took this woman at her word. At the time, I am sure she was sincere. And like all addicts, that promise wasn’t worth the water used in exhaling the words to make it.
Her drinking got steadily worse over the years, until finally she checked herself into rehab after nearly killing herself with drink.
That held for three years. She was finally the relative for my wife that she had always longed for; lucid, coherent, thoughtful and intelligent.
There was one fly in the ointment; this woman, finally sober, was too damned proud to attend after-care meetings (AA, in other words).
Then, when her son, he of the twice-daily swillings of martinis- came to visit, she crammed her head back full up her ass, convinced herself that she was OK to drink just a little bit, and fell off that fabled wagon with a crash.
10 months later, she is at a family wedding and making a COMPLEAT ASS of herself. My wife and another family member intervene, extracting yet another heartfelt yet totally useless promise from her to control herself.
How we are undone by the softness and charity within our hearts. Instead of agreeing with her promises, a more hard-assed stance along the lines of; “Get into treatment NOW, or you will have to find your own way home on your own dime,” would probably have worked wonders. But instead, she was allowed another 7 months to fool herself, in the process almost singehandedly destroying a family vacation we took collectively this past summer. That was so ridiculously bad that we put her on a plane for treatment at the end of it.
But somewhere along the way, she had fried the synapses of her brain to a point where she either could not remember that she needed to stay sober, or she simply stopped caring.
The end result is that she immediately began telling herself that it was OK for her to drink again almost upon leaving the treatment room door.
So, we look at visiting their place at Thanksgiving, as this hapless woman likes to be around my children.
I then call this woman, and tell her point blank that she had damned well better not be drinking. If she is and I catch wind of it, she can kiss off seeing my children.
Her husband then called and chewed on my WIFE (not me. . ), saying that we were claiming that the woman was an out-of-control wino. I never said that, simply that if she wanted to see my KIDS, she needed to dry up now.
In the end, she did. For the last time, it seems.
They were scheduled to come out for Christmas, first on Saturday. Well, it seems she is sick, “stomach flu”.
Wait a day. Now the weather is bad.
Wait another day. She in effect now refuses to go, as her husband is (FINALLY) cutting her off. But she is detoxing and getting screaming violent about it.
He finally caves, buys her some wine.. . .and I am getting sick of this story. The short story is that she drank herself insensate last night, passed out beyond being awoken on the kitchen floor, and this poor man (a good man, though sadly co-dependent) had to take her to the hospital at 4Am Christmas morning.
If you can, spare a moment in prayer for this pathetic woman and her suffering husband, and for my wife, who has done everything possible and then some the past 20 years to help this idiot, but to no avail.
I know of no more pathetic creature than the addict. They love to wallow in their own filth, and rationalize the most self-destructive behaviors as perfectly acceptable and healthy.
I’m simply sick to death of it.
Musings on my marriage September 23, 2007Posted by Administrator in Family, Personal.
. . .he wondered if this was simply how marriage was supposed to be, calm and respectful. But no. No. There had to be a melody line that grabbed you, not just harmony and chorus.
– Character Larry Starcek musing on his marriage in Scott Turow’s Reversible Errors
Turow is one of my favorite authors, and as far as I am concerned is the master of telling stories about the law. Part of his mastery stems from the fact that he personalizes his characters so well, and they all have feet of clay, just like the rest of us.
Some themes repeat themselves in the work: the crippled loved one (Reversible Errors and Personal Injuries (Arthur’s schizophrenic sister Susan in RE, Robbie Feaver’s ALS-stricken wife in PI); the tough, grimly realistic cop (Larry in RE, Lip in Presumed Innocent); and most notably, the marriages damned by infidelity, disinterest or hidden secrets, such as Talmadge and Muriel’s marriage in RE, Rusty and his wife in Presumed Innocent, Sandy and Clara Stern [as well as their neighbors and brother] in The Burden of Proof, as well as Robbie Feaver in Personal Injuries.
The quote above gives a typical illustration of how Turow depicts marriage in his novels; the spouses are rarely in love (he is still one of my favorite authors in spite of, rather than because of, this). If they are, such as the Sterns or the Feavers, something fundamental has crippled the marriage; in Feaver’s case, his wife’s terminal illness; in Stern’s case, Clara’s suicide brought about from the shame emanating from her lone infidelity. Turow consistently paints marriage in very bleak terms. And sorry to say, I get the impression that many marriages in America are along the unhappy -or worse, just tolerable- lines.
But they’re not all that way. Mine certainly isn’t.
Turow and others keep suggesting that the patina of love in a marriage dies away early on. That has not been the case with Nina and I.
We both work at our local Catholic high school. I am there all day, she comes in during the afternoons. She arrived as I was monitoring lunch (which I can do from a table in the cafeteria). To this day, she still whips MY head around, as well as some of the younger males in the room.
Granted, being on the downside of 40, she cannot present that sort of “fresh” beauty that is often exhibited by the girls 25 years her junior she teaches, but she looks very good. Better than any other woman within 15-20 years of her age. And if you factor in the reality that she has had seven children, you would say she is impossibly beautiful.
“Hot” is the current adolescent label. That’s Nina.
And where does she sit? Right across from me. And what do we do, in that cafeteria loaded with adolescence?
We flirt with each other. Look, tease, pass innuendo. What fun it all is. And is it helpful for the marriage? You bet.
I tell you this; none of Turow’s characters are sufficiently enamored with their respective spouses that they flirt in a public diner. Anytime Turow’s characters flirt, you may be sure that they are either in some ways being unfaithful, or they are unattached and “on the prowl.”
We’re married, and we flirt. And I tell you this; there is no one else on this earth I would sooner flirt with; not even any of those fresh-faced high school girls. They won’t look near as good as Nina 20 years down the road, and none of them have her heart and brain.
Besides, she’s my best friend, on top of it all.
Ooo. you make me live
whatever this world can give to me
It’s you, you’re all I see
Ooo, you make me live now honey
Ooo, you make me live
You’re the best friend
that I ever had
I’ve been with you such a long time
You’re my sunshine
And I want you to know
That my feelings are true
I really love you
You’re my best friend
Right now, my wife is off in Connecticut, tending to her ridiculous mother (that may or may not be the subject of another post. The woman has pissed me off more than anyone else has in probably 10 years or more. Just being a self absorbed idiot, and if she does not make it right, my intention is to confront her and deliberately humiliate her. She’s worn out her welcome, and that’s all for now on that) and our three oldest kids at the wedding of Nina’s niece, followed by a short sojourn in NYC to see the sites. I am missing Nina terribly, can’t sleep at night, bored silly during the day.
I need my wife back. My lover. My partner. My best friend. I can’t see how marriages collapse. Yes, we have had to work to get here, but haven’t you ever worked in some task, and despite the sweat and the aches and the time involved, you found yourself enjoying the work, particularly if you’re working WITH someone?
That’s marriage, a genuine labor of love.
Further proof of alien life. . . April 27, 2007Posted by Administrator in Family.
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. . .found here.
Some of the more disturbing quotes:
3. One-celled organisms and bottom feeders and termites can breed. That doesn’t make them parents. You have to stick around afterwards to be a parent. (Love this one)
4. Real adults don’t follow their hormones out the door. Butt-sniffing four-legged animals who also eat their own vomit do that. Ever see a dog in heat? That’s my wife.
19. My wife is insatiable to the point that it’s no longer sexy. She’s like a lab rat or a barnyard animal. Hell, I can’t even read the paper! (Disgusting)
20. He got mad one night and told our kids that if it wasn’t for them, he’d be free and happy. They haven’t been the same since that night.
#20 is really the proof of alien life. I simply cannot understand what the man is talking about.
Sure, I have seven kids and they individually and collectively at times drive me insane. But the sentiment expressed by the life form in #20 is alien, incomprehensible. I’d be miserable without my children.
The others describe behavior that I am eternally thankful my wife does NOT exhibit, but the fact that others do is saddening, at the least.
Why I don’t write Christmas thank-you letters February 28, 2007Posted by Administrator in Catholicism, Family, Personal.
OPENING CAVEAT: I know the title sounds curmedgeonly, and the first few paragraphs opening this post will certainly it sound like a huge “Oh, woe is me” post. Trust me. It isn’t. Bear with me, I hope to make it pay off.
Berserkness January 18, 2007Posted by Administrator in Cultural Pessimism, Family, Personal.
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The vacillations in human behavior continue to astound.
Sometime yesterday, a person very near and dear to my heart asked to speak to me, and, in response to what I thought was really a rather innocuous observation I had made just previously, then proceeded to rant at the top of her voice, screaming, stomping and crying, smacking herself on the thigh and slapping herself on the forehead, that another person in her household was driving her to drink, said person being unbelievably callous and cruel, and how she had bent over backwards to accommodate this person, and all she was getting was beaten in return. I’ve known this person for over twenty years, and have never seen her this overwrought.
She went on in this vein for close to ten minutes. I quickly came to the conclusion that my best course of action was simply to wait the storm out rather than venture out against it, so I just sat by and followed my own interior advice.
She finally calmed down to the point where she could ask me why I was “taking the other person’s side.” I responded that she was misunderstanding what I had said.
She then retorted that I was being a martyr in making such a claim.
“Martyr?” I replied, throwing caution to the wind and daring the storm to smite me down. “You have been stomping around here, beating yourself silly claiming that you are being treated like trash, throwing the worst tantrum I have seen you ever throw, and then I simply suggest that you may have misunderstood what I had said, and you are calling me a martyr??”
Trembling in fear of a renewed outbreak of rage, instead I was greeted with a twitch of the lips, and my dear proceeded to put her head down and laugh it off, choosing to see the irony I had pointed out to her. And from that point we were able to rationally contend with the source of her angst. I believe the problem is on the way to being solved.
I understand that the above scenario will see more than a trifle obscure to any readership I might have, because I am leaving numerous supporting details out. There is a good reason for this: I don’t want to provide the details.
My point in writing the above is that any of us, from the strongest to the most reasonable, can at any point, suddenly come under such sudden and unexpected pressure that our reason flees us, and we may be momentarily reduced to the level of beasts. It is fascinating to watch, though, how we can recover our reason just as quickly as we may have lost it. The spark of reason is said in some circles to be divine. I have little doubt that it is the Divine that at least provides the spark.