Thursday, February 23, 2006

Horowitz Knows!

| by Blogenfreude | 4:09 PM |

Who Is Warping Our Children's
Fragile Little Minds?


David Horowitz knows who's ruining the minds of the young! We'll give you a hint - it's not George W. Bush ...

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Saturday, February 18, 2006

An Open Letter to Helen Thomas

| by TFLS | 1:18 AM |

Dear Ms. Thomas,

First of all I want to say that you are one of my hero’s. I am sneaking rapidly up on the half century mark, and I have been listening to you storm the fortresses of power since I was a little girl. Watching you stand – unwavering – a woman alone (especially in the early part of your career); well - you taught me little girls could play with much more than Barbi or easy-bake ovens. The news would come on, the President of the United States would make a speech (the same President I was taught every day in class to revere as though he were a god). Then, smiling - he would turn toward that sea of faces sitting before him, gesturing with one hand as if he commanded an empire instead of serving at the pleasure of the American people. Up you would stand; pen and notebook firmly in hand, and that Cheshire smile would slowly disappear from his face. Your voice was even, calm – distinct. Why, Mr. President, you asked. Always ‘why’. No smile from him after that – hands gripping the podium, clearing of throats, looks to the side. Even as a child I knew he had been caught in a lie. Imagine that - the President of the United States caught in a lie – by a woman who looked like my mom.

All through my life you have been a political constant. Kennedy, Johnson, Nixon. Flashier men with booming voices in pinstriped suits would occasionally grab the spotlight – “No, Mr. President – are you?” People applauded their courage – mistaking bombast for strength; and all the while you stood – front row, house left, pad and pen at the ready. Cameras would seek out the occasional, temporary blond – eye candy – no substance. Why is it America seems obsessed with model perfection? Yet it was always your questioning that led off each and every newscast. Eventually I learned your name. Helen Thomas – United Press International. Helen. I began looking for you, listening for your voice as I’d move through the flotsam and jetsam of my life. I grew attuned to it – grew to trust it; to expect to see you when I’d look up during a particularly heated exchange. Reagan used to smile at you – I remember that – he never backed away, even though he obviously didn’t like your questions. He always accorded you the deference you both deserved and had earned. None of this back of the bus shit the current resident of the White House seems to require in order to bolster his extremely fragile ego.

Clinton always had this rather bemused look on his face – as if he admired the hell out of you – even when you held his feet to the fire over blunders or personal lapses. I always had the impression he liked you immensely – really liked you – even though you made it clear you certainly didn’t return his esteem. Still - I remember he always gave you the first question. But by then, I expected any president to do just that. Decades of hard work ensured that preference, one would think. But not this boy – no; in his fear of all things contrary he tried to shut you out – deposed in favor of a male prostitute who sidled and shimmied and oozed his way into the confidence of a man who pays lip service to morality, but has yet to practice any of those professed beliefs. Frat boy that he is, Bush then allowed one of his mouthpieces to call you names – ‘Old Arab’ – imagine that – the premier lady of American journalism reduced to a racial epithet. Back of that bus, Helen – out the door. And not a peep from your colleagues – not a whisper; their jealousies finally getting the best of them. I was ashamed of more than my government that day. I lost all respect for your profession, I’m afraid. Not you – never you. You stayed on – shouting to an empty room – look! Look! The imperial presidency is here! See him clearly for what he is before it’s too late!

God bless you for that, Helen. Some of us did hear you, you know – we aren’t all blind. Nothing’s been done, I know – and my heart hurts as a result; but we’ve seen the emperor naked now – his short comings visible for all the world to see. And when he’s finally been relegated to his much deserved footnote in history – a new President will stand at that podium, looking out over a sea of faces. Let’s hope that when he does – yours is the first one he sees. I live for the day I hear, “Helen Thomas, Madam President – First Question.”

Friday, February 03, 2006

Typepad Hates Fridays!!!

| by TFLS | 4:18 PM |

What is it about Friday that Typepad doesn't like? Is it personal? I mean - did something really, really bad happen to Mena on a Friday so that’s when her multi-million dollar baby goes bye-bye? My stats had been on and off disabled for days. Last night, they seem to finally have been turned off in their entirety. When I submitted a help ticket, I was told to go buy another metering service. That’s it - no oh, gee; I'm so sorry for screwing up something you've paid for so let me see if we can fix the problem. No - it was get the hell out, and don't let the door hit you in the ass as you go.

Now - I know - LEAVE says you. Love too. Problem is - when I signed up for this gremlin infested service I opted to pay ahead for an entire year. That’s me, tying everything up in a neat little package! So – I go and they'd have my money for nothing; while I’m forced to bundle up my kit and move on. And yes, they charged my credit card, and no those 'rebates' we all got when they had a meltdown haven't been applied yet. I had forgotten I'd done that, you see. I had been looking around, deciding where to go and lit on Wordpress and a viable alternative. So - my plans were to start moving stuff, with the idea of completing the move by March (I'm a slow learner when it comes to the technical end of all this - so it takes me a while to get things done).

Now it looks like I'm stuck till maybe next THANKSGIVING - because I'll be damned if I'll let them take my money! I’m so bloody pissed off right now I’d sue the bastards if I could afford to! I’m open to suggestions here, folks. I don’t think they’ll be forthcoming with any refund if asked, do you? When you all left (those of you that already have) were you in my situation, and did they refund your balance? Or am I whistling in the wind to think of moving at all, as all the other available services suck too? Would moving - no matter what the provocation - simply be trading one devil for another? Let me know, kiddos – ‘cause I’m mad as hell and feeling extra stompy today!