August 19, 2005
Hip-hop impresario and fashion designer Sean "P. Diddy" Combs wants to make it easier for fans to shower him with adoration -- so he's dropping the "P." from his stage name.From now on, it's just Diddy.
"We are entering into the age of Diddy. It's a new era," the rap star formerly known as Puffy and Puff Daddy told the syndicated TV show "Access Hollywood" this week.
In a recent round of interviews hyping his upcoming role as host of the MTV Video Music Awards on August 28, Combs, 35, has said he wanted to "simplify" his image and felt that the P. "was getting between me and my fans."
{My emphasis}
I think you can bust "Diddy" on pride, because he's just way entirely too proud. You're supposed to be humble, dude. You ain't humble. You could, conceivably, make a case for sloth, because it's suppposedly easier to say "Diddy" than it is to say Puff Daddy or P. Diddy. But I KNOW we've got Sean dead to rights on vanity...
...because he thinks people actually give a rat's ass about his nickname..
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August 18, 2005
The money quote:
{...}For the record, Hawaii's independence is not secession. Hawaii's sovereignty or territory was never legally ceded to the United States, either through the purported annexation via mere joint resolution, or the fraudulent so-called plebiscite for statehood and the admissions act, both domestic legislations without extraterritorial force on the country of Hawaii, which continues to be under prolonged illegal occupation. No cession, no secession. What we are talking about is not secession, but ending the occupation of Hawaii.Whether you agree with the above or not, it is important to at least understand that perspective, which is held by many.
Ooooooooookay then. "No cession, no secession." Heh. That's a tricksy little bit of legalese, isn't it? I honestly don't see where the heck this gentleman gets that from, given that, according to the WSJ piece, native Hawaiians voted 2-1 for statehood in 1959, but hey, I suppose everyone's got a dream! It appears this gent's arguments are derived from a "creative" workaround of the facts.
See the problem with Mr. Laudig's argument is not the---oh, how should I put this? I'm going to try and be nice, but wow, I just don't see how that's possible.---insanity in it, but rather that he doesn't carry the insanity all the way through. I mean, honestly, if you're going to do it, do it right, eh?
If Hawaii was really under a "prolonged illegal occupation," Mr. Laudig shouldn't recognize Senator Akaka as a "Senator," should he? After all, you can't send representatives to a government you're being "illegally occupied" by, can you? That's not the way it generally works. I mean, what's the point in doing that, from the occupier's viewpoint? If you're going to expend the time and effort to "illegally occupy" a place---particularly for going on fifty years---why on Earth would you give its people access to representative government of the occupier, let alone all the rights and benefits that come with the citizenship you gave them upon entry into the Union? I suppose one could argue that we're taking the "killing them with kindness" path, but, really, why bother if it's just an "illegal occupation"? It doesn't make much sense, on the whole. It seems a wee bit generous.
I could go on, but I think you get the gist.
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Go read the whole thing.
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- Is it just the husband or is it a worldwide male thing that necessitates the stuffing of an umbrella back into its condom-like wrapper? Sort of like the way men always declare WD-40 is the solution to most problems, and if that doesn't work Duct Tape probably will?
- Whenever the Doctor and ML ask me to walk their dog in the day because they'll be out of town, it's a guarantee for poor weather. They're in Dee Cee this week and, of course, today it's raining. Last December when they were tooling around the wine country, it was ten below zero. Earlier this summer when they were biking around Minnesota, it was a hundred degrees outside. Just once would I like to walk their dog when the weather agrees with such an activity.
At least I get out of watering their plants today.
- The husband and I have been watching "The Complete Bond 1962-1989" on AMC for the past week or so. We'll quit after tonight, because the Roger Moore ones go straight to hell after The Man With the Golden Gun.
A few observations:
- I adore the way Sean Connery pronounces Pussy Galore's name in Goldfinger. It just makes me smile.
- Thunderball is still my hands-down favorite of all of them.
And this chick is the baddest of the bad Bond Girls.

There shall be no debate on this one, either. My decision is final.
- You Only Live Twice is the last one that has that lovely early to mid-sixties aesthetic sense that just suits the Bond World so well. George Lazenby never had a chance when they stuffed him into a ruffled tuxedo shirt in the opening scenes of On Her Majesty's Secret Service. It was never going to work. They should have known better.
- The husband commented last night when we were watching Live and Let Die that he really didn't like how Bond conned Solitaire into giving up her virginity. The husband said it was cheating.
Is the husband correct? Discuss.
- Why could they not find one Felix Leiter?
- Why do Jolly Ranchers no longer have hard edges on them? Also, why are they exceedingly sticky nowadays? They seem smaller, too.
- Tide with a "Touch of Downy" is a waste of money. By itself it does not cut down on static cling. And if you use a sheet of Bounce, well, your clothes don't exactly come out smelling like Downy, ya dig? Just buy a bottle of Downy along with the regular Tide.
And that's enough of a peek for you, my devoted Cake Eater readers.
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02:36 PM
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The reason for said swinging is because I had somewhere around eight inches of hair whacked off yesterday. Which I believe means, due to the fact I have seriously thick hair, my head weighs about five pounds less than it did yesterday.
It feels sooooooo good. I just can't help myself with the whole swinging thing.
The other thing that I believe is contributing to my dizziness is the fact I had highlights put in yesterday. And...well, how do I explain this? I suppose I must just come out with it. Okedokey---here goes: I'm a blonde.
Well, not really, but since I'm still somewhat new to the world of hair coloring, I didn't think my dark brown hair could go all the way up the scale to whitish blonde. I figured it would stop somewhere around "Light Bozo Orange" from whence the colorist could throw toner in it and it would still come out lighter than it was before. But Don, my hair guru, yesterday declared that he was going for the "sunkissed" look with me, and hence I now have blonde streaks framing my face. The foils just stayed on a wee bit longer than normal and no toner was used.
Surprisingly, it looks fab. I must say I'm quite pleased with the whole thing. I sort of have an early Jackie Kennedy bob going on, only it's a bit shorter and blonder. What's even better about the whole 'do' is that it looks good curly and straight, which is a rare thing.
Now, if I can just stop flipping my head around, I'll be in good shape.
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August 17, 2005
{Sooper Sekret Message to Steve-o: this just smells like a pshopping opportunity)
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Protesters. About thirty or forty of them. Standing in front of a pricey jewelry store of which they'd undoubtedly start winging rocks through the windows if they learned they were selling conflict diamonds.
Anyway. One of them had a sign that read: "George W. Bush: Talk To Cindy Sheehan!"
For fuck's sake. It was bad enough before the election. If you weren't dodging stupid little MoveOn.Org employees, registering voters, who never remembered that THEY'D ALREADY ASKED YOU TWICE BEFORE if "you would like to help remove George W. Bush from The White House?", you were dodging the stupid peace protestors who hogged the corners. Then you'd have to wear earplugs to avoid all the stupid idiots who were honking either in support or derision---you rarely knew which.
But then Kerry didn't pull through and all the little nutjobs went away. No more MoveOn twerps. No more Mother Earth hippie types flashing you the peace sign. No more honking. George W. Bush's win last November really and truly was a win for peace---because all the stupid noisy types left the neighborhood and all was well in the fair fiefdom of Cake Eater Land.
So, the last thing I expected to see tonight was these doltish protesters out there again, hogging the corners, blocking the way of pedestrians. I truly thought we were done with this crap. It's just so boring. So yawn-inducing. Geez. If I'm tired of it, you'd think they'd be tired of it as well. But apparently not.
I'm wondering if this was an organized move by MoveOn and their ilk. I'm assuming it was. It's not like you had a Moonbeam there, who whipped out her own protest sign and wielded a magic marker like a light saber. Everyone looked well prepared with homemade signs or those stupid "Support The Troops, Bring Them Home" signs that they'd ripped out of their front yards (where they've been since March, 2003) and were waving them with glee. The problem is I know I'll feel dirty if I click over to their site to fing out.
Anybody want to do it for me?
UPDATE: the full story is here and here
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The Senate is poised to sanction the creation of a racially exclusive government by and for Native Hawaiians who satisfy a blood test. The new race-based sovereign that would be summoned into being by the so-called Akaka Bill would operate outside the U.S. Constitution and the nation's most cherished civil rights statutes. Indeed, the champions of the proposed legislation boast that the new Native Hawaiian entity could secede from the Union like the Confederacy, but without the necessity of shelling Fort Sumter.The Akaka Bill classifies citizens by race, defying the express provisions of the 14th Amendment. It also rests on a betrayal of express commitments made by its sponsors a decade ago, and asserts as true many false statements about the history of Hawaii. It should be defeated.
The Akaka Bill's justification rests substantially on a 1993 Apology Resolution passed by Congress and signed by President Clinton when we were members of the Senate representing the states of Washington and Colorado. (We voted against it.) The resolution is cited by the Akaka Bill in three places to establish the proposition that the U.S. perpetrated legal or moral wrongs against Native Hawaiians that justify the race-based government the legislation would erect. These citations are a betrayal of the word given to us--and to the Senate--in the debate over the Apology Resolution.
We specifically inquired of its proponents whether the apology would be employed to seek "special status under which persons of Native Hawaiian descent will be given rights or privileges or reparations or land or money communally that are unavailable to other citizens of Hawaii." We were promised on the floor of the Senate by Daniel Inouye, the senior senator from Hawaii and a personage of impeccable integrity, that "as to the matter of the status of Native Hawaiians . . . this resolution has nothing to do with that. . . . I can assure my colleague of that." The Akaka Bill repudiates that promise of Sen. Inouye. It invokes the Apology Resolution to justify granting persons of Native Hawaiian descent--even in minuscule proportion--political and economic rights and land denied to other citizens of Hawaii. We were unambiguously told that would not be done.{...}
Now, while I would like to pass each of the the fomer senators who authored the piece a brown paper sack to help with their hyperventilating, I don't think they're completely off the mark here. If this bill is passed, not only would racial preferences be put into law, but Hawaii could, conceivably, give secession from the Union a good hard whack. This would be precedent setting for all those other groups of people---African Americans, Native Indians, etc.---who would like special racial recognition and the accompanying reparations, land, etc. from the federal government to "right" past wrongs.
I have to admit, however, that it's ironic it should be the Hawaiians who are on the brink of succeeding with this sort of legislation where so many others have failed. Hawaiians have benefitted quite handsomely from being incorporated into the United States and its citenzery. Other groups have not. That's curious. What, precisely, is their beef? That there's too much tourism?
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August 16, 2005
Then I watched while the Lamb broke open the first of seven seals, and I heard one of them four living creatures cry out in a voice like thunder, "Come forward."I looked and there was a white horse, and its rider had a bow. He was given a crown and he rode forth victorious to further his victories.
When he broke open the second seal, I eard the second living creature cry out, "Come forward." Another horse came out, a red one. Its rider was given power to take peace away from the earth, so that people would slaughter one another. And he was given a huge sword.
When he broke open the third seal, I heard the third living creature cry out, "Come forward." I looked, and there was a black horse, and its rider held a scale in its hand. I heard what seemed to be a voice in the midst of the four living creatures. It said, "A ration of wheat costs a day's pay, and three rations of barley cost a day's pay. But do not damage the olive oil or the wine."
When he broke open the fourth seal, I heard the voice of the fourth living creature cry out, "Come forward." I looked, and there was a pale green horse. Its rider was named Death, and Hades accompanied him. They were given authority over a quarter of the earth, to kill with sword, famine, plague, and by means of the beasts of the earth.
---Revelations 6:1-8
Yep. It's official. It's just about over with kids.
NEW YORK -Kathie Lee Gifford will join anchor Pat O'Brien on "The Insider" next month as a special correspondent for the syndicated entertainment-magazine show.Beginning Sept. 12, Gifford will appear at least two days a week to cover "big name celebrity interviews and the Broadway beat," Paramount Domestic Television announced Monday. {...}
The Four Horses of the Apocalypse are upon us. Technically speaking they are known as War, Plague, Famine and Death, but they're more commonly---and respectively---known as Frank, Cody, Cassidy and Kathie Lee Gifford.
Make your peace with God now, kids. It's not going to last much longer.
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Everything's fine, right? There are always stickers on bananas. Then I actually looked at it...

What the hell was the thought process here? Did some marketing punk think, "Hey, most kids have bananas with lunch, and statistics show that shoppers go through the produce aisle before they go to the freezer aisle, so we'll put the stickers on the bananas. This will remind people to go to the freezer aisle to pick up our uncrustables for the entire lunch experience."
What utter bullshit.
It should probably be a clue that when you're marketing your product by putting stickers on bananas that you've reached the peak selling potential of said product. If people aren't buying them now, a sticker on a banana surely isn't going to do the trick.
It's just a thought, but, perhaps the reason Uncrustables aren't selling well is because, ahem, unless you're him, most people would think it incredibly lazy to buy pre-made, frozen, peanut butter and jelly sandwiches that have the crusts cut off. Not to mention they're expensive. I looked them up on Simon Delivers. Four sandwiches for $2.99? Or you can get the 18 count for $12.99 What a freakin' waste of money! That's just the epitome of laziness. If you can't slap peanut butter and jelly on two pieces of bread and then cut off the crusts in the time it takes you to defrost one of those things, you have no mad sandwich making skillz. You're hopeless and you are entirely too susceptible to marketing campaigns.
Grow a spine and make your kid a sandwich that doesn't require defrosting.
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"Dude, there are babes galore at these parties"
Girl on the Right
Mary Katherine Ham
Not a Desperate Housewife
{/Ted "Theodore" Logan Voice}
Apparently there is no word on whether there are any "historical babes" at any of these parties, but I suppose you can clickety on over and see for yourself, eh?
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August 15, 2005
I'm not trying to tell the Evangelicals how to run their churches, but it would appear that hosting these sorts of "events" and, moreover, being politically active is a great way to lose your tax-exempt status with the government.
But God only knows, if that happened, they'd blame the loss of that rarefied status on "Secularists bent on destroying Christianity and the good folks who follow it." Then they'd probably burn the state tax commissioner in effigy. They might wave a few pitchforks around for good measure.
It gets so tiresome after a while. You almost wish they'd switch it up a wee bit, just for variety.
{Hat Tip: Andy}
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Go and give Phin and Sadie all of your hard earned money to upgrade your blog.
They'll do a fabulous job. Just ask these guys or these guys.
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Hubba hubba, eh?
Which, apparently, led to horny sailors playing tonsil hockey with unsuspecting nurses in Times Square.
I suppose if there was ever a time for it, that would have been it.
UPDATE: Go and read about Rob's Uncle Morris, who served in the Navy in the Pacific Theater durng the war.
I'll second Rob's comment: Thanks Uncle Morris!
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I really do. I know a lot of you are saying, "What the fuck is she thinking? Eeeew!" I can understand that. Smoking is a filthy habit. I know this. I have always known this. If you would have asked me when I was a teenager if I would ever smoke, I would have told you in a definitive way that no, I would never smoke. Because my mom smoked---and still does. Oddly enough, it's not the fact she smokes that bothers/ed me: it was her choice of cigarettes that drove me up the wall. Because Mom smokes menthols. If you've ever smoked a menthol, you'll know that it's like lighting up a piece of peppermint candy and trying to inhale it. I hated driving around with her on a winter's day. Even now I can conjure up the conjoined smell of the car heater and her menthols. GAG! She never cracked a window, either, and if you did, well, you heard about it. Bleech. This is why I never thought I would smoke and I made it all the way through high school and most of college without ever trying one.
Now, Mom used to smoke Salems. I remember as kid I would have to go over to the Amoco station to get ciggies for her. She's write out a note that said, "Please sell a pack of Salem 100's to my daughter, Kathy." She'd sign and date the note, give me a dollar and change and I'd be on my merry way. I'd get to the station, I'd hand over the note and the money, whomever was behind the counter would hook me up. I'd run home with the cigs and hand them over to Mom. It was no big deal. Today that sort of activity would get you prosecuted for child abuse, but this was the seventies and things were a bit different back then. I never looked askew at my mom for smoking when I was younger. Lots of people smoked; she was just one of many. But, of course, this period of time was the beginning of the end for smokers. The Surgeon General had gotten his warning on each and every pack. Everyone was talking about lung cancer, and of course, in the schools, they were starting with the anti-smoking propaganda campaigns. Every once in a while you'd get a teacher who would tell you to ask your parents to stop smoking because it was bad for them. They were, obviously, trying to guilt trip people into quitting. Now, I knew better than to do that with my mother. Mom is generally not someone who tolerates people guilting her into anything: she's the one who does the guilting, not the other way round, thank you very much. The only time I ever asked her to quit was when my father pretty much ordered me to. I was skeptical and was afraid I was going to get yelled at by her. But I knew if I didn't, Dad would chastise me, so being stuck between a rock and a hard place, I went into the kitchen and asked her to quit smoking. I remember her pausing for a long moment. She nodded her head slightly, as if to say, I see what you're saying. She then took a long drag and proceed to reply. Her answer, given in a firm, but polite tone, was, MIND YOUR OWN BUSINESS.
And that's a pretty good answer on the whole. I've found it very useful over the years whenever anyone tried to guilt me into quitting. Because plenty of people have tried. Smoking is a personal choice and anyone who tells you that the evil tobacco companies are luring children into smoking with their "deceptive marketing" is full of shit. You should know that. This is a personal choice people make and everyone has the opportunity to say no, thank you, I don't want to do that. Everyone and their brother, by this stage of the game, knows that smoking is bad for them. It is and we smokers know it. We take responsibility for our choices, just like you non-smokers do for yours. It's pretty simple stuff, on the whole.
But, unfortunately, smokers are unable to tell people to mind their own business anymore. Because it was one thing when people took responsibility for their actions, and other people chose to live and let live. Nowadays they don't do that. Now it's all about public health. And God help you if you choose yourself over the health of everyone else. You're a bad person for doing this, don't you know? Where's your sense of compassion for the person who doesn't want to breathe your smoke? Gosh, you really should get with the program, shouldn't you? So, while you're not going to give up your habit, yet you remember what it was like to be a non-smoker who didn't like the smoke, in response you become an overly polite smoker. You excused yourself when you're at a restaurant and go to the bar to smoke. When you were at a bar, you asked if the person next to you minded if you smoked and if they did, you took yourself to another part of the bar. You excused yourself and went outside when you were at someone else's home. Even in your own home, you didn't smoke in front of guests you knew didn't like it. When you smoked outdoors, you picked up your butts and disposed of them no matter where you were. You were polite about your habit. You tried not to put anyone out with it. You, of course, pushed back when some anti-smoking zealot went too far, but, again, you were polite about it. But your politeness, apparently, wasn't good enough for some.
You see, when smoking became a public health "crisis" war was declared. And we all know that all's fair in love and war. So the anti-smoking advocates put out faulty and misleading information about the dangers of secondhand smoke in an attempt to get things their way. Really, some of their lies would make Goebbels stand up and cheer for the blatant use of propaganda. Now, no one's saying it's a good thing to breathe in other people's smoke. It is, however, misleading in the extreme to put an ad on a bus that claims "secondhand smoke kills more people each year than murder." I see this ad on a daily basis. I don't know who has paid for it, because there's no credit listed anywhere on the ad. Now, think about that claim for a moment: secondhand smoke kills more people each year than murder. Really? How so? How can you say, definitively, that of all the people who die each year, more of them die from secondhand smoke than from murder? When someone is murdered, we have the statistics because the coroner who examines the body post mortem has to fill out a form. They have to check a little box that says that this person's death was not natural and then they have to say why. Furthermore, they have to be prepared to testify in court as to their findings. Is there a little box on a death certificate which the coroner checks when someone's keeled over, declaring the cause of death to be secondhand smoke? No, of course there isn't and anyone with half a brain knows this. The anti-smoking advocates are playing games with statistics. They can contribute x numbers of death each year to heart disease, lung cancer, etc. And as we know all of these diseases are exacerbated when you smoke. These anti-smoking advocates then make the massive leap of the imagination by declaring that because people are exposed to smoke every day, then, of course, anyone who dies of heart disease, etc. if they didn't smoke must have been killed by secondhand smoke! Not only is that faulty logic, they have no way of proving that fact. There is simply no way they can prove it. But are they called on it? Nope. Because it's for a good cause. They're trying to save lives!
So, if you're a smoker today, not only do you have these anti-smoking advocates hounding you to change your wicked ways for the good of everyone else, you have the added fun of being forced to pay extra for said wicked ways to support everyone else's bad habits. Because smoking is bad for you. It's a vice, hence the government believes they can tax you extra for this vice. Now, this seems a wee bit illogical, doesn't it? I can't be the only one who thinks this way. Every single branch of government, state, city or federal---at the behest of of the anti-smoking zealots---has pretty much declared war on smokers. They pass legislation saying you can't smoke in your workplace. You can't smoke in bars or restaurants or any number of other places, until the only place there is to smoke is one square mile in the middle of North Dakota. They justify this by saying they're protecting the non-smokers, BUT then they also throw out the excuse that, ahem, they're trying to get the smokers to quit as well. Yet, when their budgets don't balance and they need an extra source of income, they automatically tax the smokers and their excuse is always and forever smokers choose to smoke. So one minute smokers are seen as suckers who are being taken advantage of by the "evil" big tobacco companies, yet in the next, we're making our own choices, hence we're responsible for our actions and the government can tax us for it. Well, you know what, people? Make up your fucking minds. I've had it. I'm tired of being jerked around by people who not only want to tell me what to do in an effort to save me from myself, but who also want me to keep smoking to fund their governmental largesse.
So, having had it with being jerked around by a government who can't think straight, today, I quit smoking.
I also quit to piss off Tim Pawlenty, too.
I smoked my last cigarette this morning at midnight. The husband sat with me and we chatted leisurely. I fully enjoyed it. I timed it so it was the last cigarette of the pack and I didn't regret it when I stubbed it out. Afterward, I threw the empty pack away, cleaned out the ashtray for the last time and went to bed. I'm done with smoking. But I'm not done with the nicotine addiction. This morning, when I woke up, the husband helped me put my first patch on. He gets to choose the location every day because you have to place the patch somewhere between your neck and your waist, on non-hairy skin, but it has to be in a different position from day to day. You can't put it in the same place twice for a week. Next week, we'll start the whole thing over again. Today my patch is located on my lower back, on the right side. Who knows where the husband will place it tomorrow. I'll be doing this patch thing for eight weeks, slowly weaning myself off the nicotine.
You see, when I said up at the top of this overly-windy post, that I love to smoke I meant it. I really do love to smoke. If there was a way to be able to smoke and not be addicted to it, I'd love it. Unfortunately, that's not the case. But there really is something so sublime about smoking. Just the act of pulling one out of a pack, putting it in your mouth, then setting fire to it, while taking a long pull is a beautiful thing. It's partly the method and partly just taking the time to complete a small ritual that makes it so sublime. Those of you who have never smoked, I'm sure, are gagging right now and are only focusing on the bit about inhaling. That's fine. I don't like to go camping or enjoy shitting in the woods, either, which I'm sure are some of your favorite things. Potayto, Pohtato. Live and let live, etc. ad nauseam ad infinitum. But if some of you have ever smoked, you know what I'm talking about. Smoking is a calming thing. It's an act wholly unto itself that, if you bother to appreciate it, is a beautiful experience. I won't say it's religious, but it's awfully close. It makes you slow down. It makes you take your time. It helps you to experience pleasure in small doses. It's lovely.
Unfortunately, though, it's also addictive. Which is what I'm trying to rid myself of. The addiction. I've been smoking for ten years and eight months. I've been toying the with notion of quitting for a while now, but it was Pawlenty who got me to quit. Not only is the Governor of the State of Minnesota too chicken to call this health impact fee what it is---a tax---he's funding education spending out of it! Hence, you can't even call it a "health impact fee" because the money is going to education, not to keeping health costs down. This, I think we can all agree, is not fiscally responsible. So, Tim, in an effort to show you what fiscal responsibility is, I quit smoking. I can't afford to keep paying $3.95 per pack---because, of course Phillip Morris took this momentous opportunity to raise prices by $0.30 per pack---so I quit. It's pretty simple: if you can't afford it, you don't buy it. Right? That's what we have to do in our everyday lives. Why shouldn't you have to do the same, Tim?
Now, if you like irony, you should know that the State of Minnesota is paying for my patches. All you have to do is call the QuitLine and tell them you don't have health insurance and they'll rush the patches right to your door. I lied to get them to pay for it. I think it's only fair since the governor keeps lying to me.
Anyway, I suppose I should warn you, my devoted Cake Eater Readers, that I might be overly cranky over the next couple of weeks. This crankiness might result in much meanness, or it might result in hilarity. Who the hell knows what's going to happen? I've never tried to quit before and while the patch is giving off the nicotine I need, I'm having some issues with keeping my hands busy. I'm a fidgeter by nature and the smoking took care of those fidgets. I'm losing that, though, and while I keep taking a break to throw a tennis ball around, I'm somewhat at a loss because I'm losing that thing that always made me slow down and take a look around. So, long story short: look out.
I would also like to add that I'm closing comments on any posts related to my effort to quit smoking. I don't want any email, either. I'm sure a few of you, my devoted Cake Eater Readers, would love to cheer me on through all of this because you're good people and you're thrilled by my decision to become a non-smoker again. Well, thank you for that, but just send me happy thoughts through the ether, ok? I don't know how to say this nicely, so I'm just going to say it: it's condescending as hell when a non-smoker or an ex-smoker tells a smoker who's in the process of quitting that, "they can do it! just keep going! resist the urges! It'll get better, I promise! think of all the money you'll save!" and so on and so forth. I know you don't mean for it to be condescending, but it is. As hell.
You are a non-smoker. The way I see it, particularly right now, this means you're the enemy. Sorry, but if all smokers are the enemy for anti-smoking zealots, it's more than fair for me to lump you in with them. Even if you despise their tactics as much as I do, if you've ever declared that you do so like a non-smoking restaurant that's only non-smoking because they've been forced to go that route by the government, well, you've placed yourselves squarely with the anti-smoking zealots. You've benefitted directly from their actions. I don't see why you should get a pass. Sorry, but that's just the way it goes. Doesn't feel so good to be demonized that way, does it? But fair's fair. You're just going to have to deal with it. I've taken more than my fair share of crap from non-smokers over the years. I've listened to your fake coughing when you've walked past me, where if you'd just had the balls to ask me to put it out, I would have. I've listened to non-smokers whine about the smell of smoke in their clothes after they go to the bars. I've listened to windy lectures about how dirty it is when smokers stub their butts out on the sidewalk and walk on, while deliberately ignoring the fact that outdoor ashtrays are almost an extinct species, and that, ahem, it's generally a bad idea to throw something that's just been on fire into a trash can. I've listened to non-smokers think that the best way to balance budgets is to tax smokers. I've been told I have no right to mind my own business, in other words. You non-smokers have put your nose in my business for years, implying that I didn't know what was best for me, so you were going to take care of it for me. So, I certainly hope you non-smokers will respect it when I tell you to mind your own business and spare me the condescending comments. I'm a non-smoker now. I've gained that right, haven't I? Right now, I feel like I'm crossing over to the enemy and I most assuredly don't want to be patted on the head and told I'm being a good little girl while I'm doing so.
Ok, sorry for that, but it's just the way I feel.
Posted by: Kathy at
01:58 PM
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August 14, 2005
...I really didn't expect people to start turning on Natalee's mom. That's fine and I can understand why, but jeez people, I didn't write that post so people who are watching the coverage could bitch about how whacked out Natalee's mom is.
You're somewhat missing the point, eh?
Posted by: Kathy at
08:34 PM
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Russ, as has been established, is a biker. As in motorcycles. Not the sort you pedal yourself. In September he's going to ride from Winterset, of course, to New York for the Iowa State/Army game. Since this is something of a long ride, and as a biker you must have your, erm, ass in shape (read as "toughened up") for said long ride, he's making day trips here and there to get his bum readied for this pilgrimage. His first trip was to the Twin Cities and we met up for some yummy pancakes here.
It was a distinct pleasure to finally meet Russ, who is a very amiable and funny guy. We sat and chatted about Iowa State, our various adventures on campus, blogs, shooting fireworks out of dorm windows and not getting caught, and other stuff until the waitresses were starting to give us the hairy eye, because we'd turned into a pack of campers. Before that, however, Russ bestowed upon us some sausage made from Bambi's remains.

When I asked the waitress for a carrying bag, she enviously eyed my venison. I think maybe she was hoping I'd leave one of the sausages for her with her tip. Didn't happen, obviously. I am so happy Russ made the effort to bring us this venison. When he asked if I wanted any, he said something to the effect, "Don't worry about leaving us short...this is like us having extra tomatoes and giving them away." What I failed to think about, however, was the difficult logistics of getting a cooler strapped onto a bike. Whoops. I used to be pretty thoughtful about this sort of thing, but I'd completely forgotten how much of a pain it can be to haul things via motorcycles. So, thanks, Russ for the making the extra effort to clean out your freezer! We surely do appreciate it the pain and suffering you went through to bring us some Bambi!
For those of you who are wondering if my frosty beer made an appearance at our first meeting. Sadly, I have to report that I did not get to meet my beer, as she would not have fit into Russ' already-full backpack and cooler. (You can only carry so much, eh?) But hopefully she will sojourn to New York for the Army game. Russ made no promises, but I sincerely hope she makes it there. A cross-country trip could be such a fantastic learning experience for my beer.
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August 11, 2005
Posted by: Kathy at
02:03 PM
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Thanks Bill, you sick, twisted little monkey, you!
UPDATE: I feel I should probably warn people about clicking over. It's a wee bit disturbing. Consider yourselves warned.
Posted by: Kathy at
10:59 AM
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Some of the chapters that I've found particularly fascinating describes the motivations and movements of the Schwarz Kapelle---which translates as "The Black Band----who were the main group of German army and intelligence officers opposed to Hitler's reign and who tried to depose him, it turns out, many times before Poland was invaded. Led by Admiral Wilhelm Canaris, the chief of the Abwehr (the secret intelligence and counter-espionage service of the German General Staff), who thought that Hitler would ultimately turn out to be the downfall of his country, they failed mainly because they were wary because Hitler had no problems retaliatiating against army officers who stood up against him and because of a lack of external support from Britain and France.
It's stunning to read this one particular chapter which details Canaris' and the Schwarz Kapelle's movements immediately preceding Hitler's invasion of Poland on September 1, 1939, for it sounds so familiar given the appeasement by certain unnamed countries today during the War on Terror.
If you're interested, take the jump. more...
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12:13 AM
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