I think the reason it’s been so silent here at Dy’s Mind’s Eye lately is because I’m just plain overloaded. Not by The Slave Box or by family…though those definitely have been taking their more-than-fair share out of me lately. No, I’m really talking about the media shit-storm.

We’ve got revolutions in Egypt and Bahrain. We’ve got funeral mourners being killed in Lybia and protests in Yemen and Morocco. We’ve got the working class under attack in Wisconsin and the GOP Fascist Asshats in Washington continuing their idiotic war against the poor, elderly, women and children. We’ve got Planned Parenthood and NPR and PBS fighting to stay alive. We’ve got the Seattle Police Department getting away with continued unwarranted brutal force…and even cold-blooded murder of a partially DEAF, drunk man with a CLOSED 3″ pocket knife…going unchecked, uncharged and unbelievable. I am just am all stopped up with all this crap and don’t know where to start. I’m flabbergasted. I’m so freaking angry at it all I’m just that cat in the corner that is spitting and hissing and can’t form words to express it all.

I WANT to write about each and every one of those horrific things and how it makes me angry and   sad and appalled. I WANT to rile you all up into action to DO something…ANYthing…about it. Any of it. All of it.  I just can’t get around my own mind. I’m stuck. I’m angry. I’m sick. I’m fucking in a state of blue screen shutdown.  I just don’t have the mental hard drive space to process, save and upload.

Overflowing GarbageYes, that sounds like a cop out…but I just can’t wrap my head around all of it. It’s too much. It all keeps falling out the sides and seams of my big bag of tricks, one topic at a time, in a torrent of cats and dogs falling from the sky sort of way. My A.D.D. keeps shifting from one topic to the other, trying to keep them all in order…hell, just inside the bag…until my orientation is off and my head is about to explode and then…Blue Screen of Death. Garbage Overload.

The logical little voice in the back of my head says, “Just pick one thing and focus on that. Write about one thing at a time.”

Yeah, I don’t know how to do that.

Not right now…not today. 

I’m going for a Mimosa, damn it. It’s Sunday and I’m worth it. And maybe it’ll quiet that nagging little voice in my head that keeps saying over and over, “Get on your soap box, it misses you…”

© 2011 D. Kessler

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I don’t know about you, but I never use a phone book. You know…a telephone book…that thick  paperback book comprising mainly of yellow pages that gets delivered to your door every year whether you want it or not…a big chunk of wasted paper that lists all the phone numbers in your area. Yeah…that phone book. I can’t remember the last time I actually opened one to look up a number to anywhere.

In the pre-Internet years, I was all about looking up the phone number or address in the phone book, while most anyone else I knew was all about the dial 411 (or some other equivalent for computerized “Information” in the area). I tend to be tactile/visual, so reference books of any kind are welcome, comfortable and even entertaining (yeah, I’m a nerd). However, in this day and age when we all have a computer in our lap and a cell phone in our pocket or purse, the phone book seems about as relevant a corded land-line with a rotary dial. If ever I need to perform the increasingly archaic task of actually calling a business on the phone but don’t have the number, I Google the business name…I look it up on dexknows.com…or, more usually, I open my YellowPages app on my iPhone.  That fat paper phone book usually gets tossed into the recycling bin the same day we get it delivered…and, if your city is anything like my city, there are usually more than one of those obnoxious bricks of paper dropped on your doorstep every year…sometimes more than once a year!

I suppose if you don’t have a computer and are still using an old-style, bare-bones cell phone or…dare I say it?…a land-line, that big tedious book might get more use, but to me it just seems as outdated as the Sears Catalogue. Remember that old dinosaur?

Luckily, there are apparently some options starting to crop up. Sites like YellowPagesOptOut are popping up where you can opt out of having this huge waste of paper dumped at your door.

Thank. The. Gods.

Or…You can find something way more entertaining to do with all that otherwise wasted paper on your…and all your neighbors’…doorstep. Something cool…like, um…I dunno…maybe haute couture?  

© 2011 D. Kessler

I’m sitting in my local just having a drink or five. It’s Friday night, it’s payday, my buddy’s pouring stiffies (you know…Mike…of previous post fame). The jukebox is playing the good, the bad, & lots of the ugly…everything from Nine Inch Nails to Hank III to Journey to Gogol Bordello…it’s a Good Thing. Very.

So, pardon me if I don’t really have an earth shattering rant or a sage blurb to dispense to the masses.

I’M GETTING MY DRINK ON, DAMMIT! 😉

I deserve it! I preserve it! (Okok…no B-52’s references, I gotcha.) Damn it if I haven’t earned this cocktail and all it’s cousins!

I’m wishing y’all a Happy Fucking Friday and go tear some shit up with people you love. RIGHT NOW! Do it. Cuz if they’re really friends worth half their salt… they miss you. Even if you saw them yesterday.

If you’ve read some of my posts in the Archive…specifically during the 2008 Presidential Campaign…you’ve probably gotten the idea that I really can’t stand a Certain Woman Who Shall Not Be Named. There’s not much worse in my book than being a total idiot and thinking you’re a genius, plus you just can’t keep your mouth shut…even when every time you open it you do more damage to yourself and those you supposedly represent than if you JUST…SHUT…THE FUCK…UP.

fingers_in_ears

Maybe I should be happy she can’t keep her oral flaps zipped. The more she spews lately, the worse she sounds, the deeper she shoves her foot down her esophagus. Hell, she should be digesting her left knee right down in her upper intestine right about now. At this rate she’ll be a candidate for a Hoveround and government assistance before the next presidential campaign. Oh no! Let’s watch the double standard kick in, shall we?  She doesn’t want a government health program for the masses, but what do you bet she’ll take government funds for medial assistance if she ever needs it!

I know I’m not spouting anything new here. I’m just letting off some steam so I don’t explode the week of February 28-March4. That’s the week we’re not only not going to write about The Dumb Barbie-Bitch from Alaska. We’re going to do that thing that Arrogant Sociopaths absolutely hate.

WE’RE GOING TO COMPLETELY IGNORE HER!

Yep. Flip that channel, turn the page, click off the website…completely fucking pretend she doesn’t exist!  Can you sing “blahdadaladalaladadahlalaaaaaah” with me while covering your ears and squishing your eyes up tight? You know…just like when we were kids?

Facebook has a info page here.

Better yet, LeftAction has a petition you can sign here.

Go do it, Join us!

Because that Dumb Bitch just pisses the hell outta me to no end. I can’t even begin to say the vile things I think about someone that bereft of soul.

The only YouTube video I can handle watching of her is this one…cuz she actually doesn’t say a damn thing.

© 2011 D. Kessler

I’ve come to the conclusion that I don’t know how to eat like a skinny person. Well, actually, let me clarify. I do know how to eat like one very specific skinny person…the skinny person that I used to be.

For over 35 years I ate what I wanted, when I wanted, in quantities I wanted…and never gained a pound. I was that skinny bitch you hated, the one that wore a size 2 and ate burritos the size of a small child…WITH all the extra cheese and gi-normous glops of sour cream. I ate cake and pie for breakfast, drank breves instead of lattes, ordered fries drowning in melted cheese and dunked them in brown gravy before I washed them down with a full-bodied micro-brew amber ale.

The carbs and fat grams were off the charts. The party on my taste-buds was that to rival an exclusive event on Ibiza…and I drank to match. Oh yes, I drank a lot….frothy girly drinks, heavy wheat beers, sweet liqueurs and of course vodka. Vodka with juices. Hel-LO…can you say calories?

Through all of that…all those years, well into my late 30s…I remained a lithe 5-foot-6-inch 115 pounds.

Oh,I didn’t work out…I didn’t need to. Yes, my feet were my main source of transportation…that and public transit…and I didn’t have a sit-down job, but neither did I have job that required a ton of energy either. I wasn’t running around all day and night, lifting and moving or breaking a sweat…almost never. I just was that lucky girl with the amazing metabolism.  Until…

I’m not sure what happened. Could it be that age really just kicks in one day? I mean, it was like…*snap!…all of a sudden I was growing in places I didn’t want to grow. Sure, I finally got the much coveted “Twins”, but the heck made the deal to let their “cousins” move into The Upper and Lower Asslands, and gave permission to all manner of their “extended family” to take over bodily neighborhoods I didn’t know I had!  My awesome expensive club clothes…Lip Service, Catherine Coatney, Betsy Johnson, all of them…no longer fit. My work clothes weren’t comfortable…and my ankles started bothering me if I wore heels for too long.

So, I did what everybody always says to do: I cut back on all the things you’re supposed to, and then even cut them out altogether. It didn’t seem to help, not one bit. I tried going to the gym…I really did…but I all that happened was my appetite went up and, even though I didn’t give in to it, the scales still stayed the same. I try to eat sensible: small portions, whole grains, naturally low fat…it’s not working. It’s gotten so that I’m afraid to eat anything at all…anything…AT ALL…and I get serious guilt if I eat, period.

Add to that that I live with two adults that can eat anything and do and seem to think I should eat what they’re eating, when they’re eating it. AND I have a mother-in-law that thinks the world revolves around pasta and processed/packaged foods, so she delivers such to my house every Saturday…from Costco…gratis. I’m at my wits end.

Don’t get me wrong…I’m not shopping for clothes in the plus-sizes…yet. Oh-gawd-shoot-me-please-before-that-happens. But I sure as hell don’t know who the frak that woman is in the reflection as I walk past the glass-fronted shops and cafes on my way to and from The Slave Box…but she isn’t me and I don’t like her.

No sirree. I don’t like her one bit.

© 2011 D. Kessler

Still not feeling well, though I did go to work today.

Everything feels magnified: problems seem bigger, happy thoughts seem more shiny, everything will turn on a dime, though.

Full Moon. Oh yeah. Slap a Full Moon on anything and for me it acts like a big magnifying glass…for better or worse. Add that it’s in the sign of Cancer I definitely feel more sensitive, a little raw.

That’s all I got.

That and I’m about to kill a certain overactive teenage boy-cat.

Talk amongst yourselves. Move along, kiddies…nothing to see here today. Nothing but that crazy woman about to let out a blood-curdling scream…again.

© 2011 D. Kessler

“True compassion is more than flinging a coin to a beggar; it is not haphazard and superficial. It comes to see that an edifice which produces beggars needs restructuring. A true revolution of values will soon look uneasily on the glaring contrast of poverty and wealth.”      ~ Martin Luther King, Jr, on 4 April, 1967

“In a country well governed, poverty is something to be ashamed of.” ~ Confucius

We’re a bit under the weather here at Casa de D today, so I really don’t have the mental energy to really serve you all right with a well thought-out, creatively worded article on just about anything, sorry. However, I do want to share an article with you that a friend turned me on to earlier today.

It’s been sixteen years since the article below was written and it still rings true, sadly. We still pour money into unnecessary and immoral wars, we still refuse to legislate adequate funds to programs to feed, clothe and provide health care to the poor of this country. We sweep them under the rug while spending billions on killing machines and killing strategies…creating more poor in those countries we destroy in the name of “Freedom“.

So, although we may have a national holiday today recognizing Dr Martin Luther King Jr., the media and government still refuse to recognize what the hell the man actually stood for, worked for…and died for. We as a people refuse to take any responsibility for digging past the propaganda to find the truth. We as a people hide behind rhetoric and lies…lies told to us and lies we tell ourselves…lies perpetuated by so-called “Christians” and the Tea Party and anyone else that spews hate by way of rationalizing the denial of aid to those in this country in need.

© 2011 D. Kessler

The Martin Luther King You Don’t See on TV
Media Beat (1/4/1995)
By Jeff Cohen and Norman Solomon

It’s become a TV ritual: Every year in mid-January, around the time of Martin Luther King’s birthday, we get perfunctory network news reports about “the slain civil rights leader.”
The remarkable thing about this annual review of King’s life is that several years — his last years — are totally missing, as if flushed down a memory hole.

What TV viewers see is a closed loop of familiar file footage: King battling desegregation in Birmingham (1963); reciting his dream of racial harmony at the rally in Washington (1963); marching for voting rights in Selma, Alabama (1965); and finally, lying dead on the motel balcony in Memphis (1968).

An alert viewer might notice that the chronology jumps from 1965 to 1968. Yet King didn’t take a sabbatical near the end of his life. In fact, he was speaking and organizing as diligently as ever.

Almost all of those speeches were filmed or taped. But they’re not shown today on TV.
Why?

(…Read the full article here.)