Elisabeth Warren is a goddess. One of the smartest women in politics, and I pray by all that I hold holy she wins her bid to represent the state of Massachusetts. Below is a vid of Professor Warren ripping the Insurance Industry a new ass… did I mention I love this woman?
An original protest song in honor of the 99%, members of occupy, working men and women, and those fighting for justice in the United States and everywhere. Home made and home recorded with no corporate support or funding whatsoever.
Uploaded to YouTube by RobertHornMusic on Dec 12, 2011
While I usually find the Kansas City Star a paper worthy of nothing more than lining the bottom of my catbox, occasionally they come out with something that justifies my spending a couple of bucks on the Sunday edition. On December 12, 2011 they did just that – in an article entitled, “63 Percent Worked in 2010” by Diane Stafford. After reading the article I couldn’t help feeling that – for some perverse reason – Ms. Stafford was proud of that figure… or at least wasn’t embarrassed by it. Personally, Mommie Dammit finds it appalling and I can’t imagine how the Corporatocracy sleeps at night.
I fully understand how the vast majority of those bilious assholes on Capitol Hill can sleep – they’re far too busy buying $400 hammers, $2,000 ink pens that can write in a vacuum or underwater, and paying $100-million for a robot plane made out of recycled milk jugs so the C.I.A. can drop bombs on civilians in Pakistan. With all of that filling up their 103 work days how can they possibly find time to understand the truth that the reason the tax base has evaporated is because they sold our jobs to China? No, it’s far more productive for them to waste what damned few days they actually do the job we hired them for playing hide-the-sausage with a junior staffer and contemplating their belly-button lint while the Kockinyourass Koch brothers line their pockets and fill their ears with bullshit.
The U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics, in their annual report, “Work Experience of the Population,” said the number of workers unemployed during 2010 was 25.2 million.
The percentage of working Americans — a mere 63.7 percent of the 16-and-over population — fell from 64.9 percent in 2009.
The proportion of workers who were unemployed and looked for work at some point during the year was 15.9 percent, down from 16.4 percent the previous year. Meanwhile, the number of people who looked for work but could not find a job in 2010 rose by 715,000 to 6.6 million.
So what does that mean, exactly, O’ My Children? Tell us Mommie Dammit, what does it mean?… It means that those monthly “unemployment” figures are bullshit. We don’t have a 9% unemployment problem – we have a 36.3% unemployment nightmare. To make matters worse, when all of our boys and girls are home from the @#%AEDTFG#@#% wars in Iraq and Afghanistan you can hoist that figure another 1-to-1.5 percent. At present returning veterans face a 13 to 15% unemployment rate, so add those numbers into our civilian ones and you get nearly 40% of Americans over the age of 16 unable to find work.
Is it any surprise that the Census Bureau reported that over 76 million families lived at or below poverty levels as of the end of the 2010 census? Or that the National Center on Family Homelessness reports a 38% increase in homeless children since 2007 – just to make that clear for you, O’ My Children, that means 1.6 million or 1 in every 45 kids in this country is homeless. The center also reports that less than half of the States have anything resembling adequate programs for their homeless population.
Mommie Dammit just recently came off of a 10 month stretch of unemployment; a time in which I came to know intimately the damage that does to a person’s self esteem and self image. It isn’t the first time I’ve faced that nightmare, either. The older I get the harder a toll it takes on me. I grew up in a household that still held close the Social Contract – you grow up, go to school, get a job, and work your butt off to feed your family and provide them with a good home. Then you get old and you retire on a pension and Social Security. Except that I already knew, growing up in my grandparents house, that the Social Contract was gone. My grandparents had broken their asses – working all of their lives, surviving the Great Depression, raising two sons, a nephew and a grandson, not to mention their undying love and constant generosity to untold others. My grandparents were farmers, and they went to their graves at 74 and 83 still working for a living – and still in debt.
I’ve faced homelessness before as well, if only for 9 days, and I know the terror of it too well from that brief experience. I’ve come close to it a few more times when, between losing my job or getting too sick to work, I only managed to keep a roof over my head through the generosity of local charities. Sappy bleeding heart that I am, it wasn’t for me that I cried – it was because I didn’t have money to buy food for my cats. I was only days away from losing my home, I had very little food in the house, and was too weak from the latest bout with Pneumocystis to find work. But I wasn’t worried about feeding myself… I was heartbroken and humiliated that I wouldn’t be able to feed Tiggami and Cinmoui. That was only two years ago, and to this day I bless the anonymous donor who heard that a man with AIDS couldn’t feed his cats – and then donated two 20 pound bags of cat munchies. When Maria – my beleaguered and beloved Ryan White counselor – brought me the cat food I fell to my knees in grateful sobs that my babies wouldn’t go hungry.
That’s my Cin – ignoring me as usual. Tiggy thinks it’s more fun to punch my camera than have it take her picture, and when I do take one she somehow manages to make sure it’s of her ass.
But now, with Corporate America’s enthusiastic and profit-driven approval, more and more of my two-legged children are homeless and hungry. Their parents – those fortunate enough to have them – can’t find work, and neither our so-called “representatives” in Congress nor their Corporate puppetmasters give a damn. They prefer to hold these children hostage so they can build a pipeline from Canada to import worthless oil that will cost more to extract and refine than the pathetic amount of energy it produces will ever be worth – to say nothing of the environmental havoc their “pipe” dream will cause. Over 76 million families living in squalor, hungry, homeless and losing hope so that Congress can gut the working class and hand billion$ to the uber-filthy-rich .01%.
In those moments when Mommie Dammit’s vodka-fume fueled delusions of grandeur reach a peak, I imagine that the day will come when all of America’s drag queens and homeless mothers unite in armed rebellion, overthrowing the government and electing me Empress of the United States of Mommie Dammit. I will be Absolut (no, that’s not it…) Stolichnaya (dammit!, foiled again) absolute (that’s it!) monarch of a nation with its top three priorities being the end of the Corporatocracy, the end of homelessness, and the restoration of the nation’s workforce. The Pentagon can go hang, we have more damned tanks and guns than any other five nations combined… say it with me, O’ My Children: “pe-nile-com-pen-sa-tion-syn-drome”… Very good! Cookies for everybody! Banks will be broken up and returned to the regulation of the Glass Steagall Act. Corporations will NOT be allowed First Amendment rights, and will be forbidden to contribute to any political campaign in any amount, and individuals will be limited to $5,000 in total donations. Congressional term limits will be set at 2 terms for Senators, and 3 terms for the House of Representatives. Filibuster will be banned, and the rules of simple majority will be returned and enforced in both houses. Healthcare and education, including 4 year college degree programs, will be universal and free – with an immediate 50% cut in all student loan debt, and a 5 year hold on all payments with no interest accrued. Interest rates on all credit, existing and future – mortgages, auto loans, business loans, credit cards, school loans, you name it – issued to private individuals will be mandated at 3.8% annually or less. Credit extended by the government to financial institutions or large corporations will be mandated at 35% annually or more, depending on how stupid or corrupt the corporation was before they came to me asking for a bail-out. They would also have only 10 years to repay the loan, in full, including interest. This is just a start… the rest could fill dozens of posts. But I have visions of a new and expanded role for the E.P.A., the restoration of civil liberties and the abolition of the Homeland Fear and Paranoia Security Agency, with their powers returned to the F.B.I., the C.I.A., the Department of Justice, the Department of Transportation, and the B.A.T.F. where they belong.
But first and foremost are my children, the greatest and most precious treasure of our nation. I never want to see this again…
I’ve seen it too many times. I’ve seen these children sleeping in alleyways, eating out of dumpsters, and selling their precious bodies for an hour out of the cold. The Corporatocracy doesn’t care. Our elected “representatives” have shown they don’t give a damn. To them it doesn’t exist, as long as their million dollar bonuses and book deals keep flowing.
Apologies for the dirth of posts over the past two weeks. Mommie Dammit has just started a new daytime job at an exciting start-up company… read that as “there’s a butt-load of stuff I need to learn, and we’re just getting out of the gate… damn I’m tired!” I’ve been coming home exhausted from the neck up, and there’s just not enough Stoli left in Mommie Dammit’s 4 remaining brain cells to come here and
blow a fuse bestow my wisdom upon you. Frankly, after a full day at the office, about all I can manage is to feed the cats, bring in the dog so she’ll quit harassing the neighborhood, and collapse onto the nearest horizontal surface.
But things are improving! I am, all at once, excited, overwhelmed, amazed, supremely gratified, frustrated, and exceedingly grateful to be back to work after 10 long months of unemployment. To find myself in a position that matches my edumacation and skills is incredible, and with a brand-spankin’-new company that breeds excitement and challenge is more than I could ask for. So along with my newly hatched company, Mommie Dammit is now a newly-hatched (or is it “booby-hatched”) Systems Administrator for an Internet/VOIP/IPfax provider.
Each day is a new adventure in figuring out what got broke, arguing with the boss, figuring out what the new client’s want, arguing with the boss, juggling and sharing tasks with my coworkers, arguing with the boss (cuz he LIKES it!) and trying very hard not to be too much of a drama queen. After all, I’ve only been there for three weeks. Don’t wanna scare the hell out of ’em right off the bat, ya know. Gotta let ’em get all comfy with me first. heh-heh-heh…
So, now that I have a 3-day weekend for the Holidays, I’m attempting to make up for lost time. This post is in the middle of a
shitstorm string of vitriolic rants discussions concerning all the stoopid shit crossing my path lately, and one or two happy thoughts just so you don’t get to thinking that Mommie Dammit is a Scrooge er sumpthin’.
A recent posting on YouTube gave us a delightful sample of the upcoming
shitstorm rash of grandparent-ism amongst the LGBT community. These darling gentlemen are far from the first, and will certainly NOT be the last Gay couple to find out that they are about to become… wait for it… GRANDPA’S!!!
While Mommie Dammit has been busily re-raising other people’s children for decades, and have occasionally been blessed with a handful of “drag-grandchildren” there’s something to be cherished in the reactions of these men. One overcome with joy and excitement, the other standing back and quietly absorbing the
bombshell news before embracing his children. My own reaction the first time was a mixture of both and several others… yeah, OK. So I’m a drama queen. But one doesn’t take the news of impending grandparenthood at the age of 38 y.o. very lightly.
Lots of love for you, Gentlemen. Enjoy your Grandpa job. Just remember – all the “some assembly required” noisy-assed toys you can afford, loads of pizza and sugar, and at least 3 Disney movies before you return the heathens to their rightful owners.
muck much beloved and greatly pissed missed ABFAB is returning to assault the boobtube… at least, in Great Britain they are. No word yet on when the girls will be back in the United States of MommieDammit America – pity, dahling… we could use Patsy and Edina’s wit and wisdom… or is it just Stoli… to clear all the bullshit and detritus from the Rethuglican debates/circlejerks/fraudfests/… oh, hell. You get the point. Below is a clip in which Pats and Eddi thoroughly explain the existence of another blight on American soil…
Just in case any of you managed to get through the previous two posts with your retinas intact, there’s something else I want you to go read…
You ought to know by now that Mommie Dammit loves my kids in uniform. I don’t care if they’re grunts, jar-heads, squids or fly-boys – they’re all my special children. After all, it takes a certain level of courage and a high level of insanity to wander around the hinterland with other people shooting at you. I live and pray for the day when I no longer see this on my morning news…
With the majority of our troops in Afghanistan coming home soon – but not by Christmas, as we were promised – I sincerely hope that my prayers will be answered… at least for a long while. Adding to my joy that this
!#$%^s6632@#$fuckingbullshit war will soon be over, was the demise of DADT back in September. But now the real work begins…
With REAL unemployment (the kind minus the temporary jobs created for the holidays, and including the people who’ve been out for so long the government can’t be bothered with counting them) still well over 9% amongst the civilian population, we have the added problem that unemployment among returning Afghan and Iraqi war veterans is well over 13 (some figures say 15)%. I’d talked about that in an earlier post, and it doesn’t get any less appalling with time.
There is also the fact that, now that DADT is dead, every Christo-fascist and Reich-wing teatard with access to the Internet or a microphone is going to be waiting with baited breath for any inkling that one of our LGBT soldiers tied his boots the wrong way, or farted while standing post, or scratched his butt getting out of his bunk after too-damned-little-sleep after too-damned-much of the kind of shit that makes for pictures like the one above. These wastes of human DNA with feet and big, yammering mouths are rabid for the instant that they can take any excuse, blow it completely out of context, probably lie their asses off about it (as they’ve been doing all along) and scream “WE TOLD YOU SO!!!” Let’s face it, they’re practically gushing pre-cum with the thought of it.
Let’s also face facts that, in spite of extraordinary discipline and all the honorable intentions in the world, our LGBT soldiers are still only human. Somebody, somewhere, eventually will “screw the pooch” or FUBAR something within eye-shot of a camera lens and the lower-on-the-food-chain elements will be all over it like stink on shit. And while Mommie Dammit will undoubtedly have to put on my cast-iron panties and bitch-slappin’ pumps and go abuse one of my brain-damaged children, let us not forget that all that screaming and bullshit will be coming from the mouths of the same people who brought you the Tailhook scandal. Say it with me, O’ My Children – “het-er-o-sex-uals”. Very good. Gold stars for everybody.
Now. After all that
senile twaddle rabbit-trailing, there’s something special I want you to go read. It comes from another blog here on Word Press that I tripped over discovered via the “Freshly Pressed” page. WORK IN PROGRESS is the blog of Matthew Phelps, a U.S. Marine who was recently able to come out and serve openly and proudly. Matthew’s writing is honest, intelligent, and – at times – heartrendingly candid. In a recent 4-part post, “On Marines, equality, and my date to the Marine Corps Birthday Ball” Matthew gives us a frank look at what’s been going through his head during the months leading up to DADT repeal, and his anxieties and hopes for taking his date, Brandon, to the 236th birthday celebration for the Marine Corps. It is an incredible piece of work, and I urge you – with all dispatch – to haul your tuckass over there and read it. You will be well rewarded.
It’s not just a rich, well written read but there’s pictures all over the place of this
yummylicious handsome young man for you to ogle… I have. Now, if only he was 20 years older and still single… hmmm. Brandon, you’re a lucky man.
… and I can’t believe we’re still having this discussion. Over 30 states have enacted laws, in varying draconian levels, criminalizing HIV and AIDS. The following video tells the story of three people, two men and one woman, who unjustly will bear the burden of the hysteria and prejudice that gave spawn to these heinous
With December 1st being World AIDS Day, and all the pretty words (don’t get me started!) coming from our Conciliator in Chief and Secretary of State – Mommie Dammit can not help but be dumbfounded at the gross injustice and sheer hypocrisy of these laws. I have no words for the anger I feel that these abortions of reason and justice were created in the first place, let alone that they are allowed to continue.
Isn’t it enough that HIV positive people and people with AIDS must carry the burden of your ignorance and fear? Isn’t the stigma that goes with a “positive” diagnosis crushing enough? I did not contract HIV because I was whoring around, nor did I contract it from a needle. I am host to my uninvited microscopic guests because one of those condoms you’re so hot for split during sex, and the man I was having sex with – as well as myself – had tested “negative” less than 6 months before. So many of us went around thinking we were free and clear during that era, only to horribly discover years or months later that the test was wrong. Such is the fate of Mommie Dammit. To the best of the knowledge of the science of the early ’90’s, I’d been carrying the virus for about 3 years. Hidden away inside me were the seeds of ruin, and they kept hiding through my next 5 tests! When the unwanted guests finally decided to crash my party it ruined not only my health, but my life, my career, many of my friendships, and what was left of my relationship with a large portion of my family.
I bear the weight of the stigma, the weight of your fear and ignorance, the plethora of side-effects of my medications, and the knowledge that – in spite of my will and the best medical science – this disease will eventually kill me. Thanks to the herculean efforts of researchers and scientists the world wide that time has been extended, and I have held the inevitable at bay for nearly 22 years. Twenty two years in which I have carried your weight. Twenty two years of vomiting, pain, diarrhea, neuropathy, rashes, insomnia and lethargy. Twenty two years of being treated like a leper by the same community of Gay men that I have fought to protect for more than 30 years. Twenty two years of bureaucratic bullshit, spiraling costs, and far too few truly talented physicians and nurses. Twenty two years of watching any chance for founding and developing a relationship go spiraling down the toilet because even HIV positive men are paranoid and/or ignorant. And now WE are the criminals, placed on the same rung as pedophiles and rapists because of your ignorance and fear. Thank you. Thank you so very fucking much. It’s a good thing the Gods gifted me with broad shoulders and an adamantium will. Without them I wouldn’t be able to carry my own burdens – let alone yours.
As U.S.A., Inc. moves us all into the manic, compulsory buying frenzy known as Christmas I’m finding myself bemused by all this oral flatulence coming from the
barnyard animals Christo-fascists about trees… Mommie Dammit finds it highly amusing (in a “it gives me gas even a whole bottle of Beeno wouldn’t fix” kind of way) that the vast majority of these breast-beating ignoramuses don’t realize the depths of their hypocrisy where their beloved “Christmas Tree” is concerned, which goes without mentioning the whole farce of celebrating the birth of Christ in December.
Historians, astronomers and other scientific types have been telling us for a very long time that – if we take the description of Christ’s birth in the New Testament literally – “Christmas” should really be in mid-April. Ah, but that wouldn’t satisfy the demands of tradition now would it? The selection of the date to celebrate the birth of the Christ child was based – like so many other Christian “holy days” – on the Pagan celebration calendar. Specifically, Christmas in December was meant to counter the ancient Roman celebration of Saturnalia. Like so many Christian celebrations, Christmas in December was their way of saying to Pagan Romans, “See? We’re not that different after all – so please don’t kill us…” and the world fell for it.
The same holds true for the “Christmas Tree” – this ancient symbol of Pagan Germanic and Norse tradition was adopted into Christian traditions to give the fledgling church a protective facade as it moved out of the Mediterranean and into northern Europe. True to form, later Christians – even to those of today – tried to eradicate the tree’s true origins, claiming that it was a 16th century Christian invention of the (now) Latvians and Germans.
In truth, the tree as you know it comes from an altogether different story of “gifts” given us by the Divine. The original holiday tree comes from the Germanic Pagan celebration of Yule (another name stolen from it’s ancient roots), in which the sacrifice made by the god Odin/Woden to gain the knowledge of the Runes is remembered.
I trow that I hung from the windy tree
hung there nights of all nine.
Gashed by a blade, bloodied by Odin
My self an offering to myself.
Knotted to that tree
No man knows whither the root of it runs.
None gave me bread, none gave me drink
Down to the depths I peered
To snatch up runes with a roaring screech
and fall in a dizzied faint!
Wellbeing I won, and wisdom too
And grew and joyed in my growth
From a word to a word
I was led to a word
From a deed to another deed.
– Havamal (Lay of the High One) st. 138, 139, 141
The tree hung – upside down – to symbolize Odin’s/Woden’s sacrifice, and was kept for the nine days and nights that the god hung from Yggdrasill. At the end of the ninth night the tree would be burnt in celebratory offering, and as a prayer for the god’s guidance and protection through the long dark of Winter.
But none of this has any meaning to the Christo-fascists – indeed, probably only one or two even know the word “Yggdrasill” and neither of them can pronounce it. So effective has their re-write of history been that few outside of the German/Norse traditions and a handful of historians know the story of the World Tree. Instead we have these sheep, in their millions, bleating hysterically whenever someone – however well-meaning, or politically correct – refers to it as a “Holiday Tree.” I can only imagine their pyrotechnics were someone to display it in its historically correct aspect – hanging upside down with a basin of mead below it to symbolize Mimir’s Well, the source of the Runes.
Now even Mommie Dammit, devout pagan that I am, mount my tree upright and decorate it lavishly. But I remember. And I honor the god for whom it stands, for his sacrifice and for the gift of the Runes and wisdom. So, while you’re setting up your tree, attempting to keep your four-legged children from leveling it or running off with the ornaments, and while your two-legged children are anxiously and surreptitiously trying to figure out what’s under it – take a moment to think about the origins of that tree, the nobility and strength it represents, and the promise of life renewed that it embodies.
For faith – in whatever form you embrace it – is a source of great human strength.
It is also, unfortunately, a source of great human evil and weakness.
That truth was brought home to me from the oddest of sources… a couple of weeks ago when I finally broke down and bought the DVD of “Pirates of the Caribbean: On Stranger Tides.” I figured I already owned the other releases, so it couldn’t hurt to complete the set – after all, I
fantasize about love Johnny Depp. However, the critics were right – it’s largely a flaming pile of crap. But there was one bright spot to which I’m referring – at the end, as the plot (“plot”? what plot?) reaches it’s… well, I guess it was a climax though it felt more like a zipless fuck… anyway, there came a single moment when the screenwriters had a flash of brilliance. Captain Teach, a.k.a. Blackbeard, says to the pious-to-the-point-of-pompous Spaniard –
“In faith there is light enough to see,
and darkness enough to blind!”
Amen, Captain. A-fuckin’-men! Mommie Dammit couldn’t have put it better myself.
I’m firmly of the belief that we all, great and small, need something to believe in, something to give us grounding, and something to inspire us. I don’t give a damn what the “something” is, but we all have a need for it. We all have to have that something that gives our lives definition and helps us make sense of the world around us. Whether that faith is grounded in a Divine entity or entities, a nameless “Higher Power”, in worldly science, or a stinky tennis shoe – I just don’t give a rat’s ass. So long as that “faith” inspires you to become a better, kinder, more selfless and loving human being then I say “ALL HAIL NIKE!“
I will continue to hope, and to believe that the human race will eventually grow up. That we will eventually learn that we are indeed all one family, and that the tiny blue marble we inhabit is ours to nurture – not to rape and pillage. I will continue to believe that our gods mature as we mature, and that one day our faith – however it may be framed – will be a source only of light.
… and it is breaking. For the past two nights I have watched in horror as a beautiful, articulate young man struggled to shape his words – to bring his thoughts to his lips and speak them clearly. Last night on The Rachel Maddow Show, and tonight on Countdown with Keith Olberman I watched interviews with 24 y.o, U.S. Marine Lnc. Corporal Scott Olsen – the Iraq war veteran who was terribly injured by a police-fired projectile at the Occupy Oakland rally just 6 weeks ago. He had done two tours of duty in Iraq, and came home unscathed only to fall to the violence of Oakland’s police as they fired tear gas canisters and flash-grenades into the protesters.
His neck still in the foam brace, and the scar of his wound vivid above his left eye, this young man brought Mommie Dammit to tears. With my heart in my throat I struggled to sit through both interviews – not because I’ve grown jaded with the repeated atrocity of our nation’s police and elected officials, but because their heinous crimes have so grievously damaged this bright, heroic young man. As I listened to him struggle valiantly to pronounce his words, often with heartbreaking failure, I desired nothing more than to reach my arms around him, hug him tightly to me, and then hunt down every member of the Oakland police department who were on the scene at that protest… with mace in one hand and a steel mallet in the other.
A short time ago I asked how long it would be before we saw police actions like those that met the Vietnam-era anti-war protesters. How long before we were to pay for our right of assembly and free speech with our bodies and our blood? Now it appears that it was only a matter of days, or even hours, as that same day I watched the news to see the police in New York run over a protesters head with a moped, and smash another young man’s face into a car’s bumper then grind it into the pavement. And now Scott, a veteran barely out of his own childhood, struggles to recover from skull fractures and brain injuries. As he told Rachel on Thursday night, “…it’s hard to know where to direct the anger. But it’s sad to see that it continued going on, and all our rights are being trampled upon.”
Both interviews with Scott were graciously and respectfully conducted by Rachel and Keith, and I applaud them both for their obvious concern and share their admiration for this young man. If nothing else about the Occupy Movement moves you to rage against the monster that is Corporate America, if nothing else will pull you out of the mind-numbing pablum of Making an ass of yourself with the has-beens or the grotesquery of The real house-whores of (insert your trailerpark here) and bring you to your feet to deny the rape-and-pillage of the Reich Wing, then watch the video of Rachel’s interview with Scott Olsen. I pray you feel even a pale shadow of the anger boiling in my veins, just a hint of the pain in my gut I feel for this child. Watching his comrades come home in flag-covered coffins brings Mommie Dammit to my knees, watching others come home destroyed in body and mind twists my heart. But to know that this child came home from the travesty of Iraq, alive and unharmed, only to be maimed on his home streets as he marched for justice… I have no words left for the rage I feel. All I can think of is a quote from Wil Durant:
A great civilization is not conquered from without, until it has destroyed itself from within.
We have begun to eat our own…