I just had to share this……
I just had to share this……
I keep thinking in snippets this summer, which shouldn’t surprise anyone who knows me these days. My attention span is limited and though I sometimes try to loosen the strings on it, it just keeps coming back. So anyway, here are a few thoughts.
When was the fifteen dollar burger born and where the hell have I been hiding? Come on. It’s a slap of chop meat, after all. But I guess if you put it on a brioche roll with caramelized onions and aioli mayo, it begins to market itself. it sounds higher end, like a dive with tablecloths. This burger craze started about ten years ago when the market fell out and people wanted alternative places to go for dinner that were reasonably priced. But as with everything else, people always try to push the envelope to see just how much the public will tolerate. And it appears, at least with burgers, the carnivores are willing to pay the price. But it’s still a slab of chop meat on a roll dressed up for a cheap photo shoot date.
Home For Mom
Joan Lunden does commercials for a place called A Home For Mom. It’s a senior care referral service. As I watched the commercial, I began wondering what happened to Dad. Is there a different commercial for him? I never saw one. Do we not think Dad is going to need a place or do we figure he”ll figure it out on his own? That’s a scary thought. Statistics tell us that women live longer than men but to blatantly toss dad to the side of the road on these commercials is a bit harsh, don’t you think? I wonder what 75 year old Dad is thinking as he’s sitting across from Mom and finishing his second bowl of chocolate, chocolate chunk caramel ice cream and this commercial comes on. Just wondering.
I think the eclipse thing was interesting and if you were in certain parts of the country when it was full it must have been a cool experience. But I saw people interviewed who drove fourteen hours for the two minute blackout and estimated it would take them twenty hours to get home. I saw others who were crying at the experience. There were people who planned their trips and marriages around this, paid lots of money for hotel rooms, endured standstill traffic jams and didn’t get to see much because it was cloudy. I don’t know what to say about these people. I hope you’re not one of them but if you are I don’t know what to say about you people. If you really want to be entertained and don’t mind traveling. I can take you to the beach in New Jersey one day. There are sights and people there that will entertain you for hours. You don’t know what you’re missing.
Scouts Of America
Apparently there’s a feud brewing between the Boy Scouts and Girl Scouts. It seems the Girl Scouts are upset because the Boy Scouts are trying to turn the tide on decreasing membership and decided to recruit girls for their organization. The Girl Scouts, of course were not amused. They referred to it as a “covert campaign” that was “reckless and unsettling.” The Boy Scouts argue that many millennial parents prefer their children be in the same organization and some girls have petitioned to join the ranks of the boys. Now I don’t know about you but I would never go to war against a woman. Men just aren’t properly equipped emotionally or intellectually to even be on the same dance floor as women so what makes anyone think this little battle will end up on the positive side of the ledger for the boys. That being said, it’s hard to argue for gender inclusion on one side of the coin but not on the other. I’m looking forward to a fun ten rounds, though I predict the knockout will come in round one.
I was listening to Michael Jackson sing his hit song on the radio the other day and two lines reminded me of our politicians and those who blindly follow along.
And mother always told me be careful who you love
and be careful what you do ’cause the lie becomes the truth.
Have a great rest of your week and weekend. I’ll be working on my thoughts.
My wife and I were having a late lunch outdoors at a casual restaurant the other day. Small groups of women sat at two of the tables, one table had two men and two tables were occupied by professional looking, well dressed couples. One couple looked to be in their 30’s the other in their mid 40’s. I’m not sure if they were married but since they were both directly in front of me, I could tell by their conversation that they were much more than friends. They seemed to have a pleasant lunch, laughed several times, conversed easily and when the bill was presented, the guy paid. A short time later the 30’s couple left and about five minutes after that, the 40’s couple did the same.
But it was how they left that really bothered me and almost caused me to leave my seat.
In both cases, the guy stood up and began walking to the parking lot before the woman was even out of her seat. In both cases, the guy opened his car door and got in while the woman was still navigating her way out of the patio dining area. In both cases the guy started the car as the woman was walking through the parking lot. The woman who was in her 40’s looked over at me as she passed by and gave me an embarrassed smile before looking away.
There aren’t many things that really get under my skin but disrespect is at the very top of my list. The problem is, I don’t know who I was more upset with, the guys for being disrespectful or the women for tolerating it. Because I would bet the ranch this isn’t the first time this happened. This is their relationship. This is how these men treat these women and this is what these women accept. The question is why?
I’ve always believed that you can’t force someone to respect you but you sure as hell can refuse to be disrespected. If someone allows it to happen, it is guaranteed to continue. I realize this works both ways; that both men and women are responsible for this type of behavior toward the other but I believe women share the brunt of this type of boorish behavior.
If you don’t respect the person you’re in a relationship with, then why are you there? If you’re not respected by the person you are in a relationship with, then why do you stay?
I don’t understand.
Statistics tell us that one in five women in the United States have been raped in their lifetime.
One in five women.
The next time you’re in a room filled with people, take a look around at the women in that room and think about those numbers. Disturbingly, since rape is underreported in this country, that number is higher than statistics indicate.
When I started this blog I wanted it to be a place I could go to and just write what was on my mind. Whether it was funny or serious, it was going to be my place to vent. The Stanford swimmer’s rape trial and verdict that has been in the news recently is so disgustingly obscene that even though I wanted to write something, I couldn’t find my way here to rationally articulate any reasonable thoughts. But I have to say something.
A young unconscious girl was assaulted and raped in January 2015 by a drunk student named Brock Turner who happened to be a swimmer. He comes from a privileged family and lives in Oakwood, Ohio, a neighborhood known for a higher standard of living with good schools and a low crime rate. The median household income in $100,724, more than double the average in Ohio.
Brock’s father lamented that his son’s life is pretty much ruined and that it was a steep price to pay for “20 minutes of action out of his 20 plus years of life.” Anyone who wonders if Brock has any respect at all for women should look no further than the insensitive ignorance coming from his father’s mouth. It’s possible the father is a bigger waste of human DNA than his son.
Brock’s mother pleaded with the judge for no jail time, saying that any time behind bars would be a “death sentence.” She felt he wouldn’t survive jail, that he’s be “damaged goods” and a major target being a “Stanford boy.” She claims that Brock is a “shattered and broken shell of the person he used to be. My once happy and vibrant boy is distraught, deeply depressed, terribly wounded and filled with despair.”
She also claims that he has never been in any trouble and his dreams have been shattered. “No NCAA championships, no Stanford degree, no swimming in the Olympics, no medical school, no becoming an Orthopedic surgeon.”
Neither Brock’s mother or father ever mention the trauma endured by the young lady he raped. Not once.
It should also be mentioned that the clean-cut image of Brock that his mother describes doesn’t include his drug use in high school. Why is that important? Because Brock’s explanation for why he made a bad decision is the drug and drinking culture he was exposed to in college and feels that culture is responsible for his uncharacteristic actions. Only he was using before college.
Why are we not surprised that a young college aged man refuses to accept responsibility for his actions and chooses to shift the blame to someone or something else. As if he didn’t know better. As if he didn’t have the ability to make the right choices. However, after listening to his parents speak, it really isn’t surprising at all. This is a family of self absorbed, clueless individuals with no regard for anyone but themselves and their place in society.
Then there’s the judge in this case. After being found guilty in March, Santa Clara Superior Court Judge Aaron Persky, could have sentenced Brock to fourteen years in jail. Prosecutors asked for six years. Persky sentenced him to six months. He’ll be out in three. Why? Persky doesn’t think Brock is a threat and won’t repeat his actions again.
Really? So that’s the new basis for sentencing? If we don’t think someone who has killed or maimed someone because he/she was driving while intoxicated, will be a menace to society again, we can simply set them free? If someone who doesn’t have a record kills their spouse by mistake in a fit of anger but the judge is confident he/she won’t do it again, they can walk with a slap on the wrist? That’s how we’re going to serve out justice going forward? Or is that just how they do it in Santa Clara.
Rape is something you carry with you for the rest of your life. It alters and affects almost every aspect of how you live, who you trust, where you go, what you think and who you are. Society, in their distorted sense of rationale, sometimes places more blame, scrutiny and stigma on the victim rather than the individual who committed the crime.
A person who has already been a victim of this heinous crime shouldn’t have to feel like they were raped again by a judge who shows more compassion, concern and justice for the criminal than the victim.
One in five women.
I don’t know this woman but she’s the kind of person I’d like to know. Anyone who can generate this kind of laughter at something as simple as what you’re about to see is worth hanging out with…:)
If you’re not laughing out loud by the time this is over, I think someone should be taking your pulse.
When your mother asks, “Do you want a piece of advice?”, it’s a mere formality. It doesn’t matter if you answer yes or no. You’re going to get it anyway.
But there’s a story behind everything. How a picture got on the wall. How a scar got on your face. Sometimes the stories are simple, and sometimes they are hard and heartbreaking. But behind all your stories is always your mother’s stories, because hers is where yours begins.
Happy Mother’s Day!!!!
You won’t remember this.
Sitting on my lap and laughing at
something only you understand,
your hands come up to my face as you
bounce up and down on my lap and then
gently lay your head on my aging chest.
You won’t remember how that made me feel.
I tell you that I love you, that you’re
precious and funny and smart and
one day when you grow up you’re
going to hold someone in your arms
the way I’m holding you in this moment.
But you won’t remember my words.
You’re just nine months old but your eyes
can tell a story with only the sound of a smile,
and when you fall asleep nestled against me,
life rewinds to another time and place
that others whom I held will also not remember.
Time doesn’t exist in moments like this.
So I’ll hold you quietly against me until you wake,
until they tell me it’s time for you to go,
and you’re lifted away, watching your arms reach
out to me again so that our fingers touch for the
briefest of moments in an instant embrace.
You won’t remember the day that two women separated by
ninety years held each other and laughed.
And sadly, as day turns into night,
neither will I.