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Dear Mom; Fuck You!

12 Apr

I have never told you outright that I know that you are a lousy human being and a total waste of oxygen – guess what, it’s true. Any bitch that prefers her Chihuahuas to her children is fucked up beyond belief and should have NEVER gotten pregnant to begin with. Today I realized that you treated me as you would a puppy or a dog when I was an infant; I was actually totally dependent on you and my DAD for love, nurturing, support and life.

You ugly self-serving bitch, you had no right to be a wife or to call yourself a mother. Mothers actually care more for their children than just about anyone or anything. Husbands rate slightly higher than children but certainly above self and definitely above pets! If you thought my letter 20 years ago was harsh wait till you get a load of this!

You couldn’t totally fuck up my life because when you were pregnant with me you didn’t have any booze or drugs; or, at least not enough that I was born addicted – but you did that to your second child and, because she was addicted in the womb, she’s totally fucked as an adult – I thank you. For years I thought it was because I left her to you when I moved back in with my dad.

I have absolutely no respect for you and will not mourn your loss when you pass; I will actually celebrate that the world will be better off when you are gone because you ARE totally the worthless, good for nothing, ugly piece of shit that you accused me of being when you spat in my face when I was 12 and I moved back in with my dad. I should add that you are also a leech on society, using your dogs to gain welfare.

You have no idea the amount of damage you did to my ego, and my mental health – but because of dad’s love, patience, understanding, nurturing and guidance I became the stable, strong, resilient, beautiful, loving, mentally healthy, nurturing, successful woman I am today. You had nothing to do with it; you have everything to do with my horrid nightmares and all the time I spent in therapy, but nothing to do with the human being I am today.

So you can kindly FUCK OFF.

The Womb Renter, a.k.a. your first orgasm (as you so inappropriately told me) – You are a worthless CUNT.


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I Am Woman – and I VOTE!!

24 Feb

Apparently the conservative right are hoping that we are all too young to remember or are uneducated enough to not care about all that our sisters in the past fought and gained for the betterment of womanhood.

I have not; and I hope, ladies, that you have not forgotten the lessons of our past. I don’t care if you are a liberal, conservative, progressive, moderate, or anything thing else; we have to make a stand now! There are men who believe that it is their right to determine the best course of action for women’s healthcare and ultimately our rights.

I’m not a second-class citizen and I will not be subjected to antiquated thinking. All of the suffering, work and energy put into gaining the right to vote and the right to govern our own healthcare, without getting the approval of a male relative, will be for naught if we do not take a firm stand NOW. We also stand to lose our rights in the work place; so we MUST act and act strongly ladies, no subtle hints this go around.

We as a gender cannot allow this to happen. We have to turn out and answer the poll questions, sign the petitions and VOTE!! We have to stand for our rights and the rights of all the future women of this country.

 

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Rational Thinking

08 Aug

The Not So Friendly Atheist Using Rational Thinking to Dispel Religious Myths

My Day of Pentecost Posted on July 28, 2011 by The Not So Friendly Atheist 3

One morning I was at the pre-service prayer meeting. People were praying over the service; asking that the anointing would flow through the pastor and that people would be saved. I was a new Christian and nervous about praying in public so I just quietly agreed with their prayers. I sat next to the pastor’s wife and noticed that she was making strange utterances. As I began to pay more attention I heard several other people doing the same thing. Afterward I asked my youth pastor what they were doing. He explained that they had been baptized in the Holy Spirit. I asked, “How can I be baptized?” He told me I would find out on Wednesday. On Wednesday, I came to church expecting to receive the Holy Spirit- this was something Jesus required his disciples to do before they could preach the gospel and I wanted it. My pastor started his sermon reading from the book of Acts and then said that even Jesus had to be baptized before starting his ministry. He said praying in tongues was the perfect prayer of agreement, would strengthen our weaknesses, and that the Holy Spirit would intercede on our behalf if we didn’t know what to pray. I wanted this and as soon as he made the alter call I jumped to my feet, excited to receive this powerful gift. I was surrounded by church members and repeated the prayer to accept the baptism. They began to speak in tongues waiting for me to join. I stood for several minutes waiting for the utterances to come, but nothing came. My pastor told me that I had been filled with the Holy Spirit and I just needed to let it flow. I kept trying and felt frustrated because it wasn’t working. If this was truly a gift from god why was it so hard to receive? Eventually we stopped and I was told that I was filled with the Holy Spirit, but my mind was trying to prevent the manifestation of tongues. I was told to have confidence in god’s word and keep trying. I went home and prayed, “Father, I know you have given me this gift and I accept it.” I couldn’t understand why it wasn’t working. I sat in bed for hours trying to pray in tongues and eventually just repeated the syllables I heard my pastor use- I wasn’t sure if I was making it up, but I convinced myself that it was real. Over the next several years I would continue to pray in tongues, but would often question whether it was all in my head. I became a youth leader and would pray with many others to receive the baptism. I would see them struggling and encourage them not to give up. I would tell them to copy me until it flowed naturally. Once they made any sound I would tell them it worked and they would keep doing it. I never mentioned my doubts; they looked at me as a role model, but I constantly had inner struggles. During these moments I would pray in tongues hoping that I would have the strength to persevere, but it only provided temporary relief- if any at all. I didn’t understand why god would let me fall when I was crying out for help. We have been taught that if a biblical promise doesn’t work there is a problem with us, but this doesn’t eliminate the questions that loom in the back of our minds. Most people desperately want to believe in god. This desperation causes them to feel guilty when they have doubts and convinces them to overlook the conflicts between biblical doctrine and personal experience. Many Christians genuinely desire to serve god, but can’t understand why it is so hard to follow god. They are told it is because of their sinful nature, but perhaps it is because there is no god to lead them. They feel helpless without god and are told to rely solely on him, but what about the times he doesn’t respond? People are told it was a lack of faith or they gave up too soon, but that answer is a little too convenient. Unfortunately, many people refuse to question their faith because they fear that their miracle is around the corner, but it isn’t. The only reason I stayed a Christian for so long was because I was afraid to give up on god. Christianity preaches about a god of love, but uses fear tactics and guilt to control its followers. We must challenge this deception and confront our doubts. There is a reason why our mind is full of doubt. There is a reason why god never seems to eliminate that doubt. Most Christians know the reason, but choose to deny it. Life is too short to let guilt and fear control us. We must analyze the evidence for ourselves and make the logical conclusion. Our skepticism is our only true friend and it wants the answers. We can’t find those answers when we are scared to ask the questions.

Posted with permission of The Not So Friendly Atheist

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You are offically cancelled, jackass!

04 Jun

You worthless fuck, I know that you used to tell everyone at Charlie’s that you killed me, that YOUR boat was moored where you could see it from YOUR house, that you worked as a foreman and could leave to go to the bar any time you wanted, (you lousy jobless twathead) that some guy with ONE ARM beat the shit out of you, not “three big black guys”, that you used to steal from my kids’ change jar, MY change jar, my debit cards, and I’m sure that’s just the tip of the iceberg.  Anyone who lies and steals like you do should probably just eat poison and rid the world of your carbon footprint.  You are a heinous, pathetic, energy-sucking amoeba, and you aren’t worth my time.  If you continue to bother me I will get statements from people at Charlie’s about what you said and go to court for a protection order.  Do not call me, email me, come near my house, or contact any of my family or friends, because everyone hates you, and I know my boys and son in law would love any excuse to tear you up, and I don’t want them to go to jail.  I have alerted the marina that if you go near my boat, you are trespassing.  MY BOAT, MY BOAT, MINE MINE MINE!!!  And one final item, I want to make sure that you are aware that while you were in jail September 2009 after stealing my disabled son’s anxiety meds and wrecking my car, I was screwing your BEST FRIEND Jim, and it was HIS IDEA, and that’s just one of the many reasons I didn’t waste $50 to bail you out.  I’m pretty sure the last time I told you that you were too drunk to remember.  Now SHOO!  You are officially cancelled.

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How green is “green?”

13 May

How green is “green?”

Today I attended a marketing seminar during which time the presenter advised the audience that, due to concerns for the preservation of our environment, more American customers now prefer doing business with companies that have a “green policy.” He displayed a variety of promotional items that are preferred by his clients, among them:

Baseball caps made entirely of plastic water bottles recycled into canvas “cloth,”

Luxuriously soft sweatshirts made of knitted bamboo fiber,

Attractive polo style sport shirts made from organic cotton, and

Durable shopping bag totes created from recycled paper.

As each item was passed around the room for inspection by the audience, I took note of the washing instruction tags inside each garment and bag; I specifically wanted to read where the items were produced and manufactured.

It should come as no surprised that all of the promotional items were manufactured in India, Honduras, China and Bangladesh.

None were produced in the USA, not even close!

Therefore, I was left to ponder…

How much fuel was used to transport these “green” items from their points of origin to their final destinations here in California?

How “environmentally friendly” are the factories where these products are manufactured?

Dare I ask about the wages or living conditions of those who labored to produce these items, no doubt in some sort of overheated, literal “sweatshop?”

When Americans select products labeled “environmentally friendly” and “recycled” should we take a closer look and ask ourselves “how green is green?”

Copyright © 2011 by Red Tailed Hawk Publishing. This is an excerpt from GG Speaks!

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What “race” is your Oatmeal?

13 May

What “race” is your Oatmeal?

This morning I indulged in redeeming a coupon for a free cup of tasty oatmeal, flavored with cinnamon and chunks of fresh apple and walnuts. It’s likely that you also received this coupon in your mailbox this week too, courtesy of one of the most popular chains of drive in “fast food” restaurants (I won’t name names, but “golden arches” comes to mind.)

Since this has been a rather rainy and blustery day, a cup of hot oatmeal seemed to be an appropriate source of energy! I was pleasantly surprised by the quality of this tasty breakfast staple. I found the serving I received to be as good as, if not better (no messy pots to clean) than homemade and I would recommend this breakfast treat to you.

Of course, you realize that I would not be writing about oatmeal, unless I had a specific gripe! Indeed, here goes…

Upon receiving the cup of hot cereal, the clerk asked me whether I would mind completing a survey and returning it to the “golden arches” in their pre-paid, self- addressed envelope. Why not? I was willing to be generous in sharing five minutes of survey time in exchange for a freebie breakfast!

The survey asked rather predictable questions,

Was the oatmeal tasty? Would I likely purchase it in the future? Would I recommend it to friends (I just recommended it to you!) Was the clerk polite, and so forth, and then we came to my “favorite” portion of the questionnaire….demographics!

Ahem, yes, questions about my age, my gender, my zip code….what language do I speak at home? And, of course, those of you who know me well, there was the question guaranteed to raise my blood pressure…

What is your race?

The usual followed…you know the categories of boxes offered to check off; so called colors, continents and ethnicities were offered as selections, followed by a box that stated “other.”

“Other?”

As in what? Hybrid? Mongrel? Half breed? Martian?

Exactly what answer is the golden arches and all other businesses and government entities that ask these inane questions looking for?

In my usual snit, when prompted by this question I checked “other” and wrote in “American” adding “this questionnaire would make Adolph Hitler proud! Who designed this “survey?” The Third Reich?”

Now, I ask you, just as I ask the charming volunteers at the Monterey Bay Aquarium who greet visitors and ask them to fill out a questionnaire with the very same racist questions, as do loan officers, “big box” stores, cruise travel agents, and so forth…

“What the fuck does my race have to do with my consumption of this oatmeal?”

Now before you start “educating” me about marketing strategies and how demographics are used to develop new products and improve our economy and so on and so forth, allow me the opportunity to cut you off at the pass and respond with two words:

“Bull shit.”

Or is that one word, as in “bullshit?”

Whatever. All I know is that in this enlightened year of 2011, the “melting pot” of the United States appears to become more racially obsessed with every passing decade.

Just as post WWII school children in Germany were conveniently shielded from learning the facts about depravity of their military/political/social history, it appears that younger generations, here in the USA, have also “forgotten” aspects of European history.

Have Americans lost sight of horrors leading to genocide that the Third Reich established through initially subtle, then eventually bolding requiring the populace to be classified by gender preference (hello LGBT “community”) health status (hello “disabled”) ethnicity, hello Poles, Dutch, Russians, Brits and so on and so forth) and religion (hello Jews, who now that some of you think the Holocaust can never be repeated, also toss “ethnic/racial” labels around like nobody’s business!)

Wake up America! Labeling the population for every little thing is dangerous, especially during times of economic instability. We need not look back 60 to 70 years to reflect on what happened with the Third Reich; we have countless more recent examples in the Balkans and throughout Africa, to name a few. Think it couldn’t happen here? Think again my friend!

Fill out a survey? Sure. Ask me my age, favorite color, preferred cuisine, why not?

But, please, let’s leave race out of my breakfast!

An excerpt from RTF: GG Speaks!

Copyright 2011© by Red Tailed Hawk Publishing/All rights reserved

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Mom With Cancer Denied Custody!

13 May

Mom with Stage IV Cancer Denied Custody of her Children!

Alaina Giordano, a 37 year old mother of 11 and 5 year old children is fighting two battles of her life…one against Stage IV breast cancer, and one against her estranged husband, who has won custody of their two children.

A family court judge in North Carolina, where Mrs. Giordano resides with her family, has now granted primary custody to her estranged husband, who has moved to Chicago. This articulate mother, spoke graciously on national TV this morning and explained that her diagnosis as an “incurable” patient was the primary reason custody has been awarded to her husband. Mrs. Giordano indicated that her children do not want to leave her, don’t want to be uprooted from their family home and don’t want to transfer to Chicago.

The following is my essay, a portion of which was read on ABC News/KGO Radio in San Francisco, CA this morning, May 11, 2011.

I am an Incurable Cancer Patient too!

by Gabriella Graham, Founder and Patient Advocate

PMP Pals’ Network

www.pmppals.org

I have been a Stage IV incurable intestinal cancer patient for the past thirteen years.

Thanks to amazing advances in cancer treatment, and palliative care, I have greatly outlived my original prognosis of “18 months” that was handed down to me by Drs. Doom and Gloom in 1998.

I saw Aliana Giordano interviewed on national television this morning. She appeared articulate, caring and healthy. By all outward appearances (and we cancer patients do our darnedest to look as well as possible) one would never guess that this woman is a cancer patient.

She credited her local healthcare team at Duke Cancer Institute for providing monthly medical treatments that have resulted in her cancer remaining stable, without progressing, for several months.

Indeed, she may be a cancer patient for many, many years to come…as a matter of fact, she may live long enough for a cure to be developed for her!

The judge cited concerns that “the course of her (Mrs. Giordano’s) disease is unknown”…interesting! Is the course of any cancer patient’s disease truly known?

Will this judge’s assumption set a precedent for the millions of parents who are diagnosed with cancer each year?

Who can accurately predict how long Mrs. Giordano will live? Even her oncologist cannot make this prediction. Does the judge know something that Mrs. Giordano’s physicians do not?

I encourage the public to rally around Mrs. Giordano, provide her with ample financial support to maintain her home, with custody of her children, and to defeat her so called “husband” in court!

Articles posted in PMP Pals and on www.pmppals.org are written from the perspective of patients and their family caregivers and are not intended to substitute for licensed, professional legal or medical advice. Individual should seek counsel from licensed professionals regarding their specific needs. Copyright © 2011 by Gabriella Graham/PMP Pals’ Network/All rights reserved. Visit us on the web at www.pmppals.org

For more articles by Gabriella Graham on the topic of defying the doomsayers see:

Cancer Patients CAN Outlive the Statistics!

How Much Money is a Cancer Patient’s Life Worth?

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^%$*@%#& cat!!!!!

11 May

So about 4am I wake up to feel my kitty, The Right Reverend Willbamin Rutherford Whackamole III, Esq., jumping up on my bed.  Common practice, she comes and goes in the night, so no worries.  BUT–then I heard what sounded like a small squeaky toy, and knew right away that she had a varmint.  Turned on the light to find a wee mousie between my legs, fortunately on top of the blanket.  It was not dead, but stunned/in shock, and just laid there.  I tried to bump it off the blanket onto the floor, but it clung for dear life with its little mousie claws.  Finally the little bugger let go, and fell to the wood floor, but wouldn’t move much.  Willbamin started batting him around, looking all cute and playful, the little murder face!  She was trying to get him to wake up and frolic with her some more, but he was playing possum.  Sure didn’t want a live rodent roaming my house, or to get up in the morning and step on a still-warm corpse, so I got a broom and swept it out onto the deck outside my bedroom.  I’m pretty sure he woke up, because I heard a scampering noise.  The louvered windows had been left open so The Whackamole could get in and out, because she prefers pooping outdoors, and it’s almost warm enough to leave it open, and I love this time of year not only because it’s warmer, but I don’t have to mess with a litter box, right?  Also is the fact that when it gets warmer (yaright, like that’s going to happen this year) I don’t have any screens, so I have to leave the louvers open to keep the house cooler.  Yup, the entire west-facing side of my house is wall to wall, floor to ceiling huge panes of glass, and it can get quite warm when it’s sunny.  So now what?  I guess I’m going to have to get screen doors, and/or just keep the upper louvers open.  One time she tried to bring a FULL GROWN RAT on the bed, but that was when Steve was living there, and he took care of it.  Did this incident make me want to have him move back in?  BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.  No.  I’ll take a wee non-boozin’ mousie any day!

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I’m a stupid, naive bitch!!

13 Apr

I deserve what I get.  How many times of making the same old tired mistake does it take for me to figure things out?  I continue to bend over and let myself be reamed because I want to trust you, and then you do it to me again.  This is all my fault.  I understand that you are weak and have a sickness, but that’s not my problem.  I’m not your wife, I’m not responsible for you.  You are an adult, and it’s time for you to man up, and time for me to let you go.  Time for me to wring out my bleeding little heart and say, “Adios, suckah!”  If you end up on the street with a cardboard sign and a can of sterno, that IS—NOT—MY—PROBLEM!!!!!!!!!!! I’m pretty sure I deserve better, but for some reason the message isn’t working its way through to my neuroreceptors and into my thought processes.  Is this because of how my dad treated me as a child, or because I have faulty wiring, or that I feel guilty because I wasn’t a perfect mom, or maybe I was molested and don’t remember it?  After you told me last night that you had broken your nearly 2 months of sobriety I did inform you that I can’t do this any more.  At least I took that step.  I can’t seem to find it in myself to just get it over with and make you disappear.  How do I make myself do the right thing?  Do I even know what the right thing is?  I’m going to go out in the woods and scream at the top of my lungs now.

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A lesson learned on relationships

25 Mar

I didn’t want to submit anything on this website.  I wanted to be the bigger person and just let by-gones be by-gones.  But, since my life has been literally flipped upside down, I figured what the hell.  I might as well vent, and try to get some of this anger out.

First of all, I want to say that I’m not sorry for the things I did or how I conducted my life in my past relationship.  I learned a helluva lot.  Like how to not trust people.  How to not sign my life away on a mortgage without having the other person sign as well.  I know, I know.  That was a real dumb-ass move.  But hey; when you’re putting all you’ve got into a relationship and things are happy and moving right along, you only think of the best things.  Not the worst.  Well, dating women that are in their early twenties will absolutely never happen again.  Not only are they immature but they are downright stupid.  That was my first mistake; thinking that any 23 year old single white female had any intelligence.  Here I am bashing the intellect of a woman when I’m the one that made all the mistakes.  Makes sense, right?

What am I most pissed about in all of this?  No, not the foreclosure that I’m facing on some shit-hole property in Collinsville, Illinois.  No, not that.  Not the fact that I spent $7,000 on furnishing for said shit-hole.  Not the fact that the $7,000 came from a childhood investment that I will never get back.  Not the fact that I spent 14 months dating some ditsy girl from Edwardsville, Illinois that literally ripped my heart out.  Not the fact that I now live with my parents at the age of 30, and have to start over in life.  No, not that either.  It’s the fact that it took me literally ten goddamn years to get my credit score from out of the dumpster to the high 700′s.  Yeah, I guess that’s what pisses me off the most.  Some retarded chick destroyed my credit score in a matter of months.

Well, Megan.  I’m sorry to say but this will all eventually end up biting you in the ass.  Unfortunately for you, you can’t just walk away from all of this thinking you’re in the clear.  The bank wants money.  The bank wants the property back.  Sorry for you but you can’t buy all of this bullshit in the pretext that you’re going to get married, and then when you don’t like how things are going just walk away from it all.  That’s called maturity.  That’s called being an adult.  I’m not sure where all of this will end up but I’m not taking the entire blame for this bullshit.  You’re just as much at fault and liable as me.  Just because you didn’t sign your name on any paperwork doesn’t mean you get out of it all Scott free.

The one thing I’ve learned about all of this is to never date a spoiled person. Megan has had her entire life catered to her by her mother, and that’s sad.  Megan had a full ride scholarship to college but she ended up dropping out because she didn’t want to live in the dorms.  Megan didn’t like the relationship she was in with me.  So she high-tailed it out of there and left me with a mortgage and a whole house full of materialistic bullshit.  Most nights I would eat dinner with her parents and they would gang up on Megan even if she wasn’t there to defend herself.  Talk about uncomfortable.  Not only did her parents do that but when Megan dumped the house situation in my lap, her Mother, Melissa, sat there and told me if I needed anything she would be there for me.  More empty words; because look at the situation that her daughter put me in.  No one has called or even been by the house to see how things are going or if they could help.  I even sent them a letter explaining this whole mess would end up in civil court.  Not even a phone call.  What rotten people.

So in conclusion; make sure you really cover your ass when you get into relationships.  Because even when things are going well they really aren’t.  Get my drift? And at a moment’s notice you could be stuck with outstanding debt and bills.  Lesson learned.  If you buy anything together make sure you are both held accountable.

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