Monday, December 26, 2005

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I Cannot Believe I Am Posting an Article Written by *shiver* Pat Buchanan!


IMPORTANT NOTE: I'm pretty sure I loathe Pat Buchanan. But, surprisingly, he and I have similar views on American Imperialism. So surprising, in fact, that I decided I had to give them some air time on my blog. However, for the sake of "balance" and my own conscience, I am also including a link that gives you the low-down on Buchanan's other, not so noble, stances. Pat Buchanan will NEVER, EVER get my vote but, in this case, he gets "the nod".


December 26, 2005
How Stands the Empire?

by Patrick J. Buchanan
How long ago was it that you last heard some pundit blather on about America being "the greatest empire since Rome"?

Quite a while, I imagine. For if the Iraqi insurgency has done nothing else, it has induced a sense of humility, and of the limits of American power.

Surely, all Americans hope the Iraqi elections will usher in a coalition that will let us depart. But it is time we stood back and took a hard look at what this war tells us, not only about our ability, but about the wisdom of trying to remake the world in our own image.

Is this generation of Americans really up to the task? Is it really willing to pay indefinitely in blood and treasure to realize the ambitious agenda George W. Bush has set out? Consider:

Though our 2,150 war dead are not 4 percent of the men we lost in Vietnam, our home front has buckled. Half the nation wants out. Is this how a mighty empire reacts to a little adversity?

Today, we field armed forces one-tenth the size of U.S. forces in 1945, and not half as large as the forces commanded by Ike and JFK. Yet, the very suggestion of a return to the draft, which we all readily accepted in the 1950s, causes a firestorm of indignation and protest.

Apparently, few of our future leaders wish to risk their lives in the "global democratic revolution."

Nor have the rest of us been called on to sacrifice. Today, we spend 4 percent of our GDP on the military. In Ike's day, it was 9 percent; in Reagan's, 6 percent. But any proposal to raise taxes to expand U.S. armed forces to enforce the Bush Doctrine against Iran or North Korea would have Republican supply-siders digging the cobblestones out of the streets of Georgetown.

When it comes to empire, we are – in a phrase Bush used to hear often growing up in West Texas – "all hat and no cattle."

And whether we invaded to liberate Iraq from a brutal tyrant, or to strip a dangerous regime of WMD, or to establish democracy, does the world appreciate it? Does the world really want America to democratize mankind?

A new Zogby poll of 3,900 people in six once-friendly Arab nations finds that, when asked to name the leader they detest most, 45 percent named Ariel Sharon, but Bush has moved into second at 30 percent. Tony Blair was a distant third at 3 percent. No one else was close.

Only 6 percent agreed with al-Qaeda's goal of a caliphate ruling the Islamic world, and only 7 percent approved of its terrorism – but fully 36 percent admired how al-Qaeda "confronts the U.S."

How admired is President Bush? When he urged the Iranians to go to the polls and repudiate the mullahs, they responded by choosing as president Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, who makes Hashemi Rafsanjani look like Ramsey Clark. When Condi Rice stiffed the leader of the Muslim Brotherhood on a visit to Cairo, the Brotherhood soared in Egyptian eyes and swept to victory in 60 percent of the parliamentary races it contested.

Everywhere today, nationalists burnish their credentials by dissing us. In Canada, Prime Minister Paul Martin seeks to save a scandal-ridden regime by pandering to Canadians' dislike of the United States. Hugo Chavez made himself the toast of South America by flipping off Bush at the Argentine summit. Evo Morales just swept to victory in Bolivia by promising to defy the Americans.

When Bush went to Seoul, he was informed that South Korea is pulling out of Iraq. The U.S. ambassador, who denounced the North as a criminal regime, was told to shut up. East Asia just held its first summit – to which the United States was not invited. The Uzbeks have just told us: Close your airbase, and get out.

Because of charges that we used secret prisons in Europe to interrogate jihadists and EU airports to transfer them there, the United States has never been less admired in NATO Europe, nor its president more despised.

Is it not thus apparent the world does not really want an American empire, or American hegemony, or Bush's "democratic revolution"? Is it not equally apparent that we Americans, unwilling to conscript our young or further tax ourselves, cannot sustain a global policy that commits us to defending nations all over this world, most of which do not even like us?

However Iraq ends, the era that began with the fall of the Berlin Wall has reached its close. That place in the sun the Greatest Generation won for us, and the Cold War generation kept for us, the baby boomer generation appears to have lost. And perhaps forever.

America needs a new vision. America needs a new foreign policy.

COPYRIGHT CREATORS SYNDICATE, INC.

Thursday, December 22, 2005

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Lately, I've been feeling like a shill for Yahoo! 360. Back in September, I got the bright idea to establish a page that my students could link to in order to find out their assignments for the upcoming week. Now, 360 cannot hold a candle (Christmas or otherwise) to MySpace, but I liked it because it was new and hadn't been corrupted by a bunch of predators, like MySpace. In other words, reasonably safe for school. Once I had established my page, I then had all my students create their own pages and connect to mine. In a matter of days, Yahoo! now had about 90 more users, in a key demographic, at that.


Well, the holidays are here and, without any help from me (until now!) Yahoo! has set its sights on yet another key demographic. Little kids. To wit, Yahoo! has enlisted Santa, his wife, his head elf, and even Rudolph (Quick! Someone call PETA!) to spread holiday cheer and to encourage folks to use 360. Each of them has his or her picks of movies (Miracle on 34th Street tops Santa's list), books (Mrs. Claus prefers the 'Tis the Season Holiday Cookbook), and music (three guesses as to Rudolph's favorite song), plus a few blogs about life in the North Pole.


To help this nefarious plot along, I herewith provide you the links to:




Santa



Mrs. Claus



The Head Elf



Rudolph


Saturday, December 10, 2005

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Just in Case You Get Too Caught Up in Christmas




Current mood: Cassandra-like




Dear God - XTC

Dear God, hope you got the letter, and...
I pray you can make it better down here.
I don't mean a big reduction in the price of beer
but all the people that you made in your image,
see them starving on their feet
'cause they don't get enough to eat from God,
I can't believe in you

Dear God, sorry to disturb you, but...
I feel that I should be heard loud and clear.
We all need a big reduction in amount of tears
and all the people that you made in your image,
see them fighting in the street
'cause they can't make opinions meet about God,
I can't believe in you

Did you make disease, and the diamond blue?
Did you make mankind after we made you? And the devil too!

Dear God, don't know if you noticed, but...
your name is on a lot of quotes in this book,
and us crazy humans wrote it, you should take a look,
and all the people that you made in your image
still believing that junk is true.
Well I know it ain't, and so do you, dear God,
I can't believe in
I don't believe in

I won't believe in heaven and hell.
No saints, no sinners, no devil as well.
No pearly gates, no thorny crown.
You're always letting us humans down.
The wars you bring, the babes you drown.
Those lost at sea and never found,
and it's the same the whole world 'round.
The hurt I see helps to compound
that Father, Son and Holy Ghost
is just somebody's unholy hoax,
and if you're up there you'd perceive
that my heart's here upon my sleeve.
If there's one thing I don't believe in

it's you...

Dear God.

Friday, November 4, 2005

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Not in the Mainstream

Lately, with the Supreme Court nominations and their resultant arguments for and against, the phrase "not in the mainstream" has been used to indicate someone who could not be trusted to do what's right for this country. Though, of course, I wouldn't want a judge to be too far to the right or left, since when is "the mainstream" something for the United States to aspire to? I do not consider myself in the mainstream. I don't feel that I am in line with the values of middle America. And, to me, that makes me more truly "American" than most. Wasn't this country founded by people who bucked the status quo? Weren't our esteemed forefathers dynamic, thoughful, flawed, creative, passionate and, dare I say, quirky? They didn't cater to "middle America", if there even was such a thing back then.

Maybe it's because I was raised in Southern California, but middle America scares the hell out of me. Soccer Moms and NASCAR Dads? McDonalds and Starbucks? Wal-Mart, for gosh sakes? Where's the sophistication? Where's the innovation? Where's the creative spark? Where is that cool, smart, funny, slightly out of the mainstream President of my dreams? Yeah, yeah, I know, he's in his office in Harlem chasing his secretary around the desk and can't run for a third term.

Alas, our choices in the last presidential election were, indeed, meager. As a registered Democrat, I was very much an ABB (Anyone But Bush) voter. Kerry did not thrill me in the least and I thought his wife was a horror, but to vote for Nader would have been a betrayal of my party.

So, what do I look for in a candidate? I want someone who does not conform to the stereotype of the "mainstream" politician. I want someone who makes me say, "Hell yeah!" not "Needs salt." What's more, I want someone who will not betray the voters after ascending to office (remember, I'm from Governor Arnold's Kal-ee-for-nee-ah). Very well, then, who's looking good?

The potential presidential candidates that I like are Hilary Rodham-Clinton and Barack Obama. Both seem up to the task (Rodham-Clinton more than Obama, but she carries so much political baggage from her husband's administration that her run may end before it begins). One is a woman, one is a black man. On the other side of the aisle, many people are touting Condy Rice as a contender. A black woman (twofer?) on the Republican ticket would defy a lot of stereotypes about that party. Time will tell as we get closer to election season, but it is encouraging to note that issues of gender and race are becoming moot. It may no longer be an issue of black/white, male/female. It may become about where their "stream" is located.

What are your thoughts?

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Saturday, October 15, 2005

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Africa in Our Midst: Lessons from Katrina

This is an amazing article about blacks vis-a-vis Katrina that made me think twice about the way in which the disaster was portrayed by the media.

Africa in our Midst: Lessons from Katrina

Jared Taylor

(To appear in the Oct. 2005 issue of American Renaissance)


In the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina, which blasted the Gulf Coast on Aug. 29, the entire world has seen images that leave no doubt that what is repeatedly called the sole remaining superpower can be reduced to squalor and chaos nearly as gruesome as anything found in the Third World. The weather—a Category 4 hurricane—certainly had something to do with it, but the most serious damage was done not by nature but by man.

Much has been and will be written about why the levees that are supposed to keep the water out of below-sea-level New Orleans failed. There will be bitter recrimination about whether the federal rescue effort could have been launched sooner. Commissions will be set up to ask questions and lessons will no doubt be learned. But there was another human failing that was far more ominous and intractable. No commissions will be set up to study it, and official America will refuse to learn any lessons from it. In the orgy of finger-pointing that is coming, it will be all but forgotten. That human failing—vastly more significant than the ones the commissions will investigate—is the barbaric behavior of the people of New Orleans.

New Orleans is 67 percent black, and about half the blacks are poor. Of the city’s 480,000 people, all but an estimated 80 to 100 thousand left before the hurricane struck. This meant that aside from patients in hospitals and eccentrics in the French Quarter, most of the people who stayed behind were not just blacks, but lower-class blacks without the means or foresight to leave.


Looters make off with a trunk full of beer.

Katrina hit on the morning of Monday, Aug. 29. Immediately after the winds died down, the first reaction was one of relief. The hurricane had jogged east, and the city was battered but still standing. Then the levees broke—apparently some time on Tuesday—and the city began to flood. Before long, 80 percent of New Orleans was under as much as 20 feet of water, and what had been only a storm became a disaster.

The city’s 70,000-seat football stadium, known as the Superdome, had been officially designated as a public shelter before the hurricane, and several thousand people were already there the night before the storm. It had some food supplies, cots, and medical supplies. But when the waters began to rise, people poured in from all directions, swelling its numbers to an estimated 25,000.

People came because their houses were under water, but also because New Orleans very quickly collapsed in banditry. Looting began even while the storm was still blowing. At first there was sympathetic clucking about the need for food and medicine, but news clips of blacks wading happily through waist-deep water with television sets over their heads dispelled that view.

The day after the hurricane, a reporter caught the atmosphere of high-spirited chaos at a Wal-Mart in the Lower Garden District. People were grabbing things as quickly as they could, smashing open jewelry cabinets and scooping up double-handfuls. One man packed his van so full of electronic equipment he could not close the rear doors. A teenage girl passed out, face down, and people stepped on her. A man stopped to roll her onto her back, and she vomited pink liquid. “This is f***ed up,” he said, and rolled her back on her stomach. An NBC correspondent filmed black, uniformed police strolling through the aisles, filling shopping carts.


One of the few whites at the Convention Center,
with her 11-month-old baby boy.

At one store, a police officer broke the glass on the DVD case so civilians would not cut themselves trying to break it, but one man was ungrateful. “The police got all the best stuff,” he said. “They’re crookeder than us.” One woman stocking up on makeup was glad to see the officers. “It must be legal,” she said. “The police are here taking stuff, too.”

Violence of all kinds quickly spread through the paralyzed city, where robbery, rape and even murder became routine. There were still thousands of people trapped on rooftops and in attics, but on Sept. 1, Mayor Ray Nagin called the entire police force off of rescue work and ordered it to secure the city. The response form the force? An estimated 200 officers just walked off the job. “They indicated that they had lost everything and didn’t feel that it was worth them going back to take fire from looters and losing their lives,” explained Henry Whitehorn, chief of the Louisiana State Police. Many disappeared without a word. Sheriff Harry Lee of Jefferson Parish in New Orleans also said his men were deserting. “They want to be with their families,” he said. “Well, I want to be with my family too, but you don’t quit in the middle of a crisis.”

Two police officers, including the department’s official spokesman Paul Accardo committed suicide by shooting themselves in the head. The London Times estimated that one in five officers refused to work, and some of those who stayed in uniform were useless. When Debbie Durso, a tourist from Washington, Michigan, asked a policeman for help he told her “Go to hell—it’s every man for himself.”

The collapse of security made rescue and relief nearly impossible. “No one anticipated the disintegration or the erosion of the civilian police force in New Orleans,” explained Lieutenant General Steven Blum of the National Guard. He said the city was operating on only one third of its pre-storm strength of 1,500 officers, and that the guard had to switch from rescue to law enforcement: “And that’s when we started flowing military police into the theater.”

New Orleans has had only black mayors since 1978, and has spent decades making the police force as black as possible. It established a city-residency requirement for officers to keep suburban whites from applying for jobs, and lowered recruitment standards so blacks could pass them. Katrina blew away any pretence that the force was competent.


Corpse left in front of the Convention Center.




(On September 5, exactly a week after the hurricane, Mayor Ray Nagin offered to pay for the entire police force, firefighters, and city emergency workers to go on five-day vacations—with their families—to Las Vegas or some other destination. He said there were enough National Guard in the city to maintain order, and that his men “have been through a lot.” He brushed off suggestions that this was dereliction of duty. He even asked the Federal Emergency Management Agency (FEMA) to pay for the vacations, but FEMA refused. “We haven’t turned over control of the city,” a city spokesman explained. “We’re going to leave a skeleton force—about 20 percent of the department—for leadership and liaison with the troops while we get some rest.”)

New Orleans has a high crime rate at the best of times—it is usually in top contention for the American city with the highest murder rate—and looted and stolen firearms spilled into the street. Some blacks fired on any symbol of authority, blazing away at rescue helicopters and Coast Guard vessels. Several days after the hurricane, with desperate people still waving for help from rooftops, FEMA said conditions were too dangerous to attempt rescues.

On Wednesday, along one stretch of Highway 10, hundreds of volunteer firefighters, auxiliary coastguards and citizens with small boats were anxious to reach people, but could not set out because of sniper fire. “We are trying to do our job here but we can’t if they are shooting at us,” explained Major Joey Broussard of the Louisiana State Fisheries and Wildlife Division. “We don’t know who and we don’t know why, but we don’t want to get in a situation of having to return fire out there,” he said.

Perhaps the most chilling accounts were from hospitals, where staff desperately tried to move patients up stairs as the water rose, while blacks invaded and looted the floors below. Most hospitals had emergency generators, but these began to fail or run out of fuel. Two days after the hurricane, the city had no running water, and as food ran out, doctors and nurses gave themselves intravenous feedings to keep going.

Just outside New Orleans, gunmen held up a supply truck carrying food, water, and medical supplies that were on their way to a 203-bed hospital. Patients in hospitals all across the city eventually had to be taken out, but rescuers met resistance. Coast Guard Lt. Cmdr. Cheri Ben-Iesan told reporters at an emergency headquarters: “Hospitals are trying to evacuate. At every one of them, there are reports that as the helicopters come in people are shooting at them, saying, ‘You better come get my family.’ ” An effort to evacuate patients and staff from Charity Hospital in downtown New Orleans was stopped by sniper fire. Other hospitals reported gangs of looters attacking and overturning ambulances.

Chris Lawrence, a reporter with CNN, filed a report from the roof of a police station: “Right now it’s the only safe place to be in the city. We were on the street earlier but the police said under no circumstances would you be safe on the street. They said anybody walking in the streets of New Orleans is basically taking their life in their hands… . They directed some of the young women to get off the street immediately.”

What may have been the most shocking headline of the entire crisis was in the September 2 issue of Army Times: “Troops Begin Combat Operations in New Orleans.” The article was about the Louisiana National Guard massing near the Superdome in preparation for a citywide security mission. “This place is going to look like Little Somalia,” Brig. Gen. Gary Jones explained. “We’re going to go out and take this city back. This will be a combat operation to get this city under control.” The amphibious assault ship Bataan was in the area, but kept its helicopters on board after pilots reported sniper fire.

Many soldiers came under gunfire from civilians. “I never thought that as a National Guardsman I would be shot at by other Americans,” said Philip Baccus of the 527th Engineer Battalion. “And I never thought I’d have to carry a rifle when on a hurricane relief mission. This is a disgrace.” Cliff Ferguson of the same battalion added: “You have to think about whether it is worth risking your neck for someone who will turn around and shoot at you. We didn’t come here to fight a war. We came here to help.”

Michael Brown, head of FEMA, said: “We are working under conditions of urban warfare.” Lieutenant-General Steven Blum, of the National Guard, said the 7,000 guardsmen arriving in Louisiana would be dedicated to restoring order to New Orleans. He said half of them had just returned from overseas assignments and were “highly proficient in the use of lethal force.” He promised to deal with thugs “in a quick and efficient manner.”

Shoot-to-kill orders were supposed to have gone out, and Louisiana Gov. Kathleen Blanco boasted that battle-hardened veterans would put down the violence in no time. However, there were few accounts of soldiers firing their weapons. The London Times reported that a New Orleans policeman explained through tears that he had seen bodies riddled with bullets, and one man with the top of his head shot off. He said looters were armed with stolen AK-47 rifles, and that the police were outgunned just like in Somalia. “It’s a war-zone, and they’re [the federal government] not treating it like one,” he said.


Hysterical woman in front of the Convention Center.

We will never know the full extent of the mayhem blacks loosed on their own city. Many victims will not be found for weeks or even months, rotted beyond recognition, their killers never found. Drowned or murdered, the bloated, stinking bodies that turn up by the hundreds will look much the same. In their haste to get cadavers off the streets, the authorities may not worry much about cause of death.

From Hurricane to Jungle

In the two main refugee centers, however—the Superdome and the Convention Center—too many people witnessed the degeneracy for it to be ignored. The first refugees had arrived at the Superdome the day before the hurricane, on Sunday, August 28. The last finally left the stadium on Saturday, Sept. 3, so some people may have spent nearly a week in what, after the toilets began to overflow, became known as the Sewerdome.

Preparation for refugees was pitifully inadequate. By day, as many as 25,000 people sweltered in temperatures that rose into the 100s. Whatever order had been established soon melted away, and the stadium reverted to the jungle. Young men robbed and raped with impunity. Occasional gunshots panicked the crowd. At least one man committed suicide by sailing off a high deck and splattering onto the playing field. Bodies of the murdered, and of infants and the elderly who died of heat exhaustion began to accumulate. Six babies were born in the stadium. Charles Womack, a 30-year-old roofer, said he saw one man beaten to death, and was, himself beaten with a pipe. Crack addicts—who had brought their most valuable possession with them—smoked openly and fought over drugs.

A group of about 30 British students were among the very small number of whites in the stadium, where they spent four harrowing days. Jamie Trout, 22, an economics major, wrote that the scene “was like something out of Lord of the Flies,” with “people shouting racial abuse about us being white.” One night, word came that the power was failing, and that there was only ten minutes’ worth of gas for the generators. Zoe Smith, 21, from Hull, said they all feared for their lives: “All us girls sat in the middle while the boys sat on the outside, with chairs as protection,” she said. “We were absolutely terrified, the situation had descended into chaos, people were very hostile and the living conditions were horrendous.” She said that even during the day, “when we offered to help with the cleaning, the locals gave us abuse.”

Mr. Trout said the National Guard finally recognized how dangerous the threat was from blacks, and moved the British under guard to the basketball area, which was safer. “The army warned us to keep our bags close to us and to grip them tight,” he said, as they were escorted out. Twenty-year-old Jane Wheeldon credited one man in particular, Sgt. Garland Ogden, with getting the Britons safely out. “He went against a lot of rules to get us moved,” she said.


Looters with bags of clothing.

Australian tourists stuck in the Superdome had the same experience. Bud Hopes, a 32-year-old man from Kangaroo Point, Brisbane, took control and may have saved many lives. As the stadium reverted to anarchy he realized whites were in danger, and gathered tourists together for safety. “There were 65 of us altogether so we were able to look after each other, especially the girls who were being grabbed and threatened,” said Mr. Hopes. They organized escorts for women who had to go to the toilet or for food, and set up a roster of men to stand guard while others slept. “We sat through the night just watching each other, not knowing if we would be alive in the morning,” Mr. Hopes said. “Ninety-eight percent of the people around the world are good,” he said; “in that place 98 per cent of the people were bad.”

John McNeil of Coorparoo in Brisbane tells what happened to their group, too, heard the lights were about to go out: “I looked at Bud [Hopes] and said, ‘That will be the end of us.’ The gangs had already eyed us off. If the lights had gone out we would have been in deep trouble. We were sitting there praying for a miracle and the lights stayed on.” Mr. Hopes said the Australians owed their lives to a National Guardsman who broke the rules and got whites out to a medical center past seething crowds of blacks.

Peter McNeil of Brisbane told the Australian AP that his son John was one of the 65 who managed to get out. The blacks were reportedly so hostile “they would stab you as soon as look at you.” “He’s never been so scared in his life,” explained Mr. McNeil. “He just said they had to get out of the dark. Otherwise, another night, he said, they would have been gone.” No American newspaper wrote about what these white tourists had gone through.

When guardsmen began to show up in force on Sept. 1 and take control, some blacks met them with cheers, but others shouted obscenities at them. Capt. John Pollard of the Texas Air National Guard said 20,000 people were in the dome when the evacuation began, but thousands more appeared from surrounding areas when word got out that there were buses leaving town. Soldiers held their M-16s and grenade-launchers at the ready, and kept a sharp eye out for snipers.

That same day, when it was time to board buses for Houston, soldiers had trouble controlling the crowd. People at the back of the mob crushed the people in front against barricades the soldiers put up to contain the crowd. Many people continued to yell obscenities whenever they saw a patrol go by. Some were afraid of losing their place in line and defecated where they stood. The Army Times reported that Sgt. 1st Class Ron Dixon of the Oklahoma National Guard, who had recently come home from Afghanistan, said he said he was struck by the fact Afghanis wanted to help themselves, but that the people of New Orleans only wanted others to help them.


Refugees at the Superdome.

By the evening of Sept. 3, the Superdome was finally evacuated, but the state-of-the-art stadium was a reeking cavern of filth, human waste, and an unknown number of corpses. It, too, had been looted of everything not bolted down. Janice Singleton was working at the stadium when the storm hit. She said she was robbed of everything she had, including her shoes. As for the building: “They tore that dome apart,” she said sadly. “They tore it down. They taking everything out of there they can take.”

If anything, conditions were worse at the Convention Center. Although on high ground not far from the stadium, it had not been designated as a shelter. It was, however, beyond reach of the high water, and soon some 20,000 people were huddled in its cavernous halls. There were no supplies or staff, and for several days neither FEMA nor the National Guard seems to have known anyone was there.

Armed gangs took control, and occasional gunshots caused panic. There was no power, and at night the center was plunged into complete darkness. Degeneracy struck almost immediately, with rapes, robbery, and murder. Terrible shrieking tore through the night, but no one could see or dared to move. When Police Chief Eddie Compass heard what was happening, he sent a squad of 88 officers to investigate. They were overwhelmed by superior forces and retreated, leaving thousands to the mercy of criminals.

It was not until Sept. 2—four days after the hurricane—that a force of 1,000 National Guardsmen finally took over from the armed gangs. “Had we gone in with a lesser force we may have been challenged, innocents may have been caught in a fight between the guard and military police and those who did not want to be processed or apprehended,” explained Gen. Blum.


The evacuation begins.

Sitting with her daughter and other relatives, Trolkyn Joseph, 37, told a reporter that men had wandered the center at night raping and murdering children. She said she found a dead 14-year old girl at 5 a.m. on Friday morning, four hours after the girl went missing. “She was raped for four hours until she was dead,” Miss Joseph said through tears. “Another child, a seven-year old boy, was found raped and murdered in the kitchen freezer last night.”

Africa Brumfield, 32, explained that women were in particular fear: “There is rapes going on here. Women cannot go to the bathroom without men. They are raping them and slitting their throats.” Donald Anderson, 43, was at the convention center with his wife who was six months pregnant: “We circled the chairs like wagons because at night there are stampedes,” he said. “We had to survive.”

The very few whites in the crowd were terrified. Eighty-year-old Selma Valenti, who was with her husband, said blacks threatened to kill them on Thursday, Sept. 1. “They hated us. Four young black men told us the buses were going to come last night and pick up the elderly so they were going to kill us,” she said, sobbing. Presumably, the blacks wanted to take their places on the buses.

The center was not entirely without a form of rough justice. A National Guardsman reported that a man who had raped and killed a young girl in the bathroom was caught by the crowd—which beat him to death.


Utility repair trucks on their way to New Orleans.

At one time there were as many as seven or eight corpses in front of the center, some of them with blood streaming from bullet wounds. Inside, there was an emergency morgue, but a National Guardsman refused to let a Reuters photographer in to take pictures. “We’re not letting anyone in there anymore,” he said. “If you want to take pictures of dead bodies, go to Iraq.” By Saturday, Sept. 3, the center was mostly cleared of the living. Refugees pulled shirts over their noses trying to block out the smell as they walked past rotting bodies.

By the weekend, there were an estimated 50,000 soldiers and federal rescue workers in the city, but even the massive presence did not bring calm. On Sunday, Sept. 4, contractors working for the US Army Corps of Engineers came under fire. Their police escort returned fire, in what became a running gun battle. Deputy Police Chief W.J. Riley said police killed four of the attackers.

By Saturday, police had set up a temporary booking and detention center at the New Orleans train station. State Attorney General Charles Foti said there were plans for a temporary court system, but no one knew how they were going to assemble juries or call witnesses. The grim business began of combing the drowning city for corpses and the remaining survivors.

Reactions

The world reacted with astonishment to sights it never expected to see in the United States. “Anarchy in the USA,” read the headline in Britain’s best-selling newspaper, The Sun. “Apocalypse Now,” said Handelsblatt in Germany. Mario de Carvalho, a veteran Portuguese cameraman, who has covered the world’s trouble spots, said he saw the bodies of babies and old people along the highways leading out of New Orleans. “It’s a chaotic situation. It’s terrible. It’s a situation we generally see in other countries, in the Third World,” he said.

The comparison would have been insulting to some Third-Worlders. “I am absolutely disgusted,” said Sajeewa Chinthaka, 36, of the looters. The Sri Lanka native added: “After the tsunami our people, even the ones who lost everything, wanted to help the others who were suffering. Not a single tourist caught in the tsunami was mugged. Now with all this happening in the U.S. we can easily see where the civilized part of the world’s population is.”

In the United States, the stark contrast between endless scenes of appalling behavior by blacks and rescue personnel who were almost all white was greeted with the standard foolishness. Some people accused the “biased” media of suppressing footage of rampaging whites and heroic black helicopter pilots.

Most blacks made excuses for looters. “Desperate people do desperate things,” said U.S. Rep. Diane Watson of California. Rep. Jesse Jackson Jr., Democrat from Illinois, said we must not judge harshly: “Who are we to say what law and order should be in this unspeakable environment?” Rep. Melvin Watt, North Carolina Democrat and chairman of the Congressional Black Caucus, was perhaps the greatest ass of all: “Whatever is being taken could not be used by anyone else anyway,” he said.

Many blacks took it for granted that federal relief was slow because the victims were black. Rep. Elijah Cummings said “poverty, age and skin color” determined who lived and who died. Hilary Shelton, director of the NAACP’s Washington bureau, blasted “disparate treatment” of Katrina victims. “Many black people feel that their race, their property conditions and their voting patterns have been a factor in the response,” explained Jesse Jackson, Sr. He said the rubbish outside the Convention Center made the place look “like the hull of a slave ship.” Black activist and reparations-booster Randall Robinson said the relief effort was the “defining watershed moment in America’s racial history.” He said he had “finally come to see my country for what it really is. A monstrous fraud.”

U.S. Rep. Carolyn Kilpatrick said she was “ashamed of America and … of our government.” The mayor of New Orleans, Ray Nagin, shouted and wept on local radio, demanding of federal officials: “Get off your asses, and let’s do something,” (and gave city workers a vacation when the feds arrived). There was an undercurrent of fury at a meeting of black leaders in Detroit. One audience member wanted to know whether the slow federal response was “black genocide.” Another shouted, “African Americans built this nation. Descendants of slaves are being allowed to die.”

One black man, observing the chaos from abroad, took a different view. Leighton Levy wrote in the Sept. 2 Jamaica Star: “I am beginning to believe that black people, no matter where in the world they are, are cursed with a genetic predisposition to steal, murder, and create mayhem.” He wanted to know why there was no footage of white looters: “Is it that the media are not showing pictures of them looting and robbing? Or is it that they are too busy trying to stay alive, waiting to be rescued, and hiding from the blacks?”

Most blacks and many whites fell into the usual assumptions about omnipotent white government and helpless Negroes. If black people were suffering it was because whites had not done enough for them. It did not occur to them that it was the responsibility of New Orleans and the state of Louisiana—not the federal government—to prepare for hurricanes. Before the storm hit, Mayor Nagin issued a mandatory evacuation only under pressure from the Bush administration. The mayor then did nothing to enforce the order, leaving hundreds of city buses and school buses to drown rather than use them to offer transportation to people without cars.


New Orleans school buses that could have been used for evacuation.

Something of the mood of black New Orleans was caught by Fox News film crews as late as Sunday, Sept. 4. White volunteers were trying to persuade a black woman and her small children to leave her flooded house. “You’ve got to get out,” they explained. “The water isn’t going away.” A black man at the top of a multi-story building told a helicopter crew he didn’t need to leave. All he needed was some supplies.

These people could not understand something that was obvious to the whole world: New Orleans had no electricity, no plumbing, no transport, and no food. Blacks refused to leave their flooded homes, even though to stay meant near-certain death.

Homeland Security chief Michael Chertoff noted how crazy it was to stay in the wreckage. “That is not a reasonable alternative,” he said. “We are not going to be able to have people sitting in houses in the city of New Orleans for weeks and months while we de-water and clean this city.”

FEMA reported that it had pulled three Carnival Cruise Lines ships from commercial duty to shelter the blacks of New Orleans. Maybe the chance of berth on the Ecstasy, the Sensation or the Holiday would be enough to drag them out of the muck.

Lessons

Ninety-nine percent of the white people left New Orleans when the evacuation order went out. Some 80,000 blacks could not or would not leave. Whites did not “leave them behind,” as the editorial-writers keep telling us. No one could have gotten some of them to leave, but if it was anyone’s job to give them the option, it was that of the black-run city government. Of the blacks who stayed, probably only a minority committed crimes, but they were enough to turn the city into a hell hole. Some did unspeakable things: loot hospitals, fire on rescue teams, destroy ambulances. No amount of excuse-making and finger-pointing can paper over degeneracy like that. Black people—and only black people—did these things.


Military helicopter drops supplies.

The Superdome and the Convention Center were certainly unpleasant places to spend three or four days, but 50,000 whites would have behaved completely differently. They would have established rules, organized supplies, cared for the sick and dying. They would have organized games for children. The papers would be full of stories of selflessness and community spirit.

Natural disasters usually bring out the best in people. They help neighbors and strangers alike. For blacks—at least the lower-class blacks of New Orleans—disaster was an excuse to loot, rob, rape and kill.

Our rulers and media executives will try to turn the story of Hurricane Katrina into yet another morality tale of downtrodden blacks and heartless whites, but pandering of this kind fools fewer and fewer people. Many whites will realize—some for the first time—that we have Africa in our midst, that utterly alien Africa of road-side corpses, cruelty, and anarchy that they thought could never wash up on our shores.

To be sure, the story of Hurricane Katrina does have a moral for anyone not deliberately blind. The races are different. Blacks and whites are different. When blacks are left entirely to their own devices, Western Civilization—any kind of civilization—disappears. And in a crisis, civilization disappears overnight.

Tuesday, July 19, 2005

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The Poser Geek
You answered 50% of the questions as a geek truly would.
As a poser geek, you're trying too damned hard. There's a strong possibility that you think you're a geek because you own your own computer, however you're truly missing the bigger picture. You aspirations of being a geek mainly come from your friends, who are probably slightly cooler.

Get rid of those thick black-rimmed glasses. Being a geek isn't about style, it's about substance!

So what's this all mean? It means you're probably a pretty cool person. You've probably got social graces and are well liked by many people. While not a complete conformist, you do prefer to follow along with popular culture. True geeks probably laugh at you behind your back.

In a nutshell, you answered most question how you thought a geek WOULD answer, but your misconceptions deceived you. Truth is, 60% of people are geekier than you.






My test tracked 1 variable How you compared to other people your age and gender:










free online datingfree online dating
You scored higher than 3% on geekness
Link: The True Geek Test written by ambientred on Ok Cupid

Friday, June 24, 2005

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These are the Times that Try (Wo)Men's Souls
Current mood: apoplectic


*sigh*

My aunt is a piece of work.

I woke up, showered and dressed, then realized that I was wearing the wrong shoes for that day's outfit, so I went out to my Jeep to unearth the correct ones from the back seat. I saw my aunt standing in the den, but wanted to get myself prepared for another exhausting test of wills with this woman first. Can you believe she practically chased me outside?! "Good morning!" she cried. What, was she afraid I was going to drive off without saying goodbye? "Good morning," I replied, sticking my head up from the back of the Jeep. "What do you want for breakfast?" "Oh, whatever you're having," I responded, trying to be polite. "Well, I was up at seven, so I've already eaten two hours ago." Ah, so the digs begin. Meanwhile, both my cousins, Ryan and Rhonda, are still asleep. Why give me grief? "What do you want me to make you?" I take a deep breath and venture, "Pancakes?" "Okay," she nods. "Do you eat sausage?" "Yes," I affirm. "How about pancakes, sausage, and decaffeinated coffee?" "That sounds like a paradise breakfast!" I respond, enthusiastically smiling. "A par-adise breakfast. Well, o-kay." And it was a great breakfast, marred only by her incessant talking about how much weight she'd lost on Weight Watchers. Not the best topic of conversation when I am trying to enjoy my carbs and fat.

After breakfast, I asked if she would drive me to Garden Ridge, a place where she had taken my mom and me when we visited her in 2000. I had found these really kewl sets of glasses, including a special one that Chuy adored, but all of them had gotten broken over the years (see my January 2nd posting for the story of the last one's demise). I was really excited at the prospect of being able to pick up some more. "Well, if you want glasses, we should go to Big Lots." !!!!!!!!!!!!!!! She wanted to take me to Pic 'n' Save to buy glassware?! Of course, I don't expect her to know that my china and glassware are fuckin' Wedgwood but it should be obvious to anyone that I already had perfectly good glasses at home and was just trying to replace the unique ones I had from Garden Ridge. I left out the Wedgwood info, but did tell her my reasons for wanting to go specifically to Garden Ridge. So, where did we go? Big Lots. This woman is clearly used to getting her own way. At Pic 'n' Sa...excuse me, Big Lots, I bought a cheap broom and dust pan, aluminum foil, and Handi-Wipes. But we went to Garden Ridge, too. If she hadn't taken me, I would have driven myself there as soon as we returned to her house. I'm used to getting my own way, too. Garden Ridge didn't end up having the glasses I wanted, but I did buy some decent other ones, plus a nice pitcher.

When we returned from our shopping trip, we chatted for a while (translation: she word vomited and I nodded at appropriate intervals) and then she mentioned going to Half Price Books. This got me very excited. "Sounds like a dangerous place for my wallet," I laughed. "We should have lunch while we're out. What is there to eat over there?" she wondered aloud. "There's The Waffle House," she remembered. Oh, kewl! I had seen several Waffle Houses on my way to Arlington, but they were definitely not places I would have gone to by myself. My favorite meal is breakfast, though, and I sure didn't mind having it twice in one day.

It was noon by this time, and Rhonda was up. We convinced her to accompany us. This was my chance to spend some time with my cousin. Thankfully, she's nothing like her mother and actually listens as well as talks. Perhaps she's just had no choice, given what she's been up against all her life.

I'm sure my aunt means well, but I am just not used to be spoken to so patronizingly. "Oh A-," she tsked when she found out I had purchased several video games at Half Price Books, along with a few books, such as Bergdorf Blondes, a book that's been on my "Wanna Read" list for ages. I let her go on about how "surprised" she was, and then pointed out to her that some of the games I had bought for $5 were worth $40 new. What I wanted to say was, "Lady, you may have met me when I was an infant, but you don't know me and what you think you know about me is usually wrong."

On our way back, we stopped at a greengrocer, where I picked up an apple and some bananas and my aunt complained bitterly to the cashier about how much more expensive fruit is in Texas than in California. I'm sure you can picture how well that went over with the hapless employee.

When we got back, my cousin Ryan was up and dressed for work, so we got to chat for little while. After I gave my aunt her hostess gift (a box of See's candy, since I know it's her favorite. See? I'm not a complete social clod) and she browbeated me about not bringing a television with me ("Well, A-, you know, we have weather here in Texas and if there's a hurricane or a blizzard, they have a little ticker at the bottom of the screen that warns you"...blah, blah, blah) I left, thankful for the hospitality, but grateful to be gone.

*********************************************************

So tonight I opened the door to my new condo. Yep, just as nice as I remembered. Blonde hardwood floors, blonde cabinetry, black granite countertops, white crown moulding, heavenly walk-in closet. The bathroom is as big as the bedroom! Okay, I didn't officially pace it out, but I really think it is!

I kind of snuck past the doorman and went straight up, concerned that somehow I would be prevented from entering since I hadn't let anyone know I was coming.

After I unloaded my clothes from the Jeep, I got my books, CD player, and video games (I have no way to play them, but why leave them in the back seat to tempt some "Serious Sam"-playing thief?) I unfurled my $59 BeautyRest air mattress and...promptly poked a hole in it! Yep, the broken antennae that I had completely forgotten about on the CD player popped right through it. GODDAMMIT! You have no idea how much I beat myself up over that. Thank goodness the mattress came with a patch kit, that I profanely adhered to the hole.

Tonight, I started reading Mirror Image, the Sandra Brown book my aunt lent me. I want to read it quickly, since she said she and Rhonda were coming to see my condo this week. She insisted that several people are waiting to read it. Gosh, I wouldn't want to keep them waiting.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, was my first night in my new place.

Thursday, June 23, 2005

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I Have Arrived!

Current mood: taking it all in

Got up this morning at a fairly decent hour, 7 a.m., and quickly showered and dressed. Ate some apricot Danish and drank about three cups of highly watered-down o.j. at the Ramada, then set off.

Today, I listened to Two for the Dough by Janet Evanovich. Since Ranger and Morelli are two characters I particularly...ah...enjoy, I was gratified to hear their names within the first few minutes. Sooooo sex-ay!

I still didn't finish it by the time I reached my aunt and uncle's house in Arlington, but I'll just save the last CD for the drive tomorrow from Arlington to Dallas.

Not much to remark upon in terms of the Texas leg of the trip. Lots of flatness, punctuated by half-hearted hills in the near distance. It started to get pretty once I reached Abilene, though.

One thing I did notice, when I would hit pockets of civilization (if you can call West Texas "civilization") is that the ratio of trucks/SUVs to passenger cars is about 5:1. I drive a Jeep, so I felt in good company. I may not have Texas hair, or a Texas twang, but I do drive a gas-guzzling behemoth of a vehicle. Yee-haw!

Tonight, I had my very first Sonic cherry limeade, a drink that came highly recommended by Erika. The verdict? I want to bathe in it! I want to jump around in a fountain of it! Please, sir, may I have some more? My cousin, Rhonda, is a Sonic carhop. She skates out people's orders and makes great tips (she's very cute!). How Southern is that?

Wednesday, June 22, 2005

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I'm in Texas!

Current mood: tired

So, after an interminable drive, I arrived in Texas at 5:23 p.m. (California time). I know this because I called Chuy on my cell to announce this feat of vehicular stamina. I stopped off at Wendy's in Anthony, TX, the first town I encountered, to chow down on a Number 1 combo with cheese, no onions, no mayo. Grinned at the good ole boys in line in front of me. Yee-haw! I'm in Tayx-us!

Having such a great book on tape, One for the Money by Janet Evanovich, to keep me occupied helped enormously. What a great series! I'm in lust with Ranger and Morelli! Tomorrow, I will listen to Two for the Dough. Thanks are owed to Erika, who lent me the books, and to Kathy, Doreen's mom, who loaned me the books on CD.

Tonight, I stayed at the Ramada in El Paso. Took a nice bath. Found a lump in my right leg. Maybe this explains the pain I have off and on? I massaged it and fervently hoped that it wouldn't give me any trouble tomorrow.

Can you believe I'm only halfway to Dallas?

Tuesday, June 21, 2005

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Dallas Delayed


Current mood: ambivalent


Okay, so I was supposed to leave for Dallas this morning, but didn't. I guess my ambivalence about this Dallas adventure is manifesting itself in my slowness to pack, to leave, to change.

Chuy was softly snoring and, although the plan was to wake him and have him load up the Jeep, I just couldn't do it. At 8:40, I had decided that it was too late to leave today, and I would go tomorrow. Besides, my electricity isn't scheduled to turn on until Friday. No sense getting there on Thursday, only to sit in the dark.

Or so I told myself.

Sunday, June 19, 2005

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Survey Sunday--I've Been Sorted by the Sorting Hat!


Current mood: sorted




i'm in gryffindor!

I'm in Gryffindor! Be sorted @ nimbo.net

YOU BELONG IN GRYFFINDOR!

Basically, you're brave, daring, chivalrous, and pretty much.. an all around good person. Of course, some see you as a goodie-two-shoes. But hey, it's true! You're really good at winning, and normally always come out as the hero. Everybody likes you.. except, maybe, the Slytherins. You're too perfect. No, really.. You're too perfect. It's annoying to watch you win, repeatedly. Oh well. Be proud anyway.

Gryffindors to Remember:

Harry Potter

Ron Weasley

The whole Weasley family

Hermione Granger

Albus Dumbledore

i'm in gryffindor!

I'm in Gryffindor! Be sorted @ nimbo.net

Sunday, June 12, 2005

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Happy Anniversary, Chuy! Feliz Aniversario, Mi Amor!

Current mood: happy



Today is my 13 year anniversary. Thirteen years ago, Chuy and I became a couple.

Sunday, June 5, 2005

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Survey Sunday-- Which Victoria's Secret Model Are You?



You are TYRA BANKS


You are easygoing, sweet, and care for others!


Take the quiz: Which Victoria's Secret Angel Are You?

Friday, June 3, 2005

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Forgiveness

Current mood: divine

I forgave my mom today. Don't ask me how. It just happened. I was driving home from work, listening to music, and glanced down at the flyer from the play that she and I are going to see this Sunday and I said, "I'm gonna see my mommy this weekend!" and I was HAPPY about it. When I heard my own words, I realized that I had forgiven her. Simple as that. No need for "a talk" or for rehashing the past or for tearful hugs.

Now, if only my fucking father could be so lucky!

Sunday, May 29, 2005

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Survey Sunday-- Are You Addicted to MySpace?

You're a Healthy MySpacer!



Take addicted to MySpace? today!


Created with Rum and Monkey Personality Test Generator


You're here for friends and fun, yet only when you've got the time to log-in. You like MySpace but you don't like like MySpace. Often, you have better things to do. And while you still check your messages, read some blogs, and catch up with a few long-distance friends, you are in no way addicted. In fact, your addicted friends wonder what's wrong with you.

Sunday, May 22, 2005

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Survey Sunday-- Which Napoleon Dynamite Character Are You?


Summer
You are Summer Wheatley and you hate cake.

Which Napoleon Dynamite character are you?
brought to you by Quizilla. 



Actually, I love cake!  It's "kay-suh-dil-uhs" that I'm not too fond of.

Sunday, May 15, 2005

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Survey Sunday-- Which American Cities Best Fit You?








American Cities That Best Fit You:



75% Austin

70% Miami

65% Las Vegas

60% Atlanta

60% Denver




Well, Dallas will have to do! But it's good to know that Austin's just a couple of hours south if I decide to settle there, instead.

Sunday, May 8, 2005

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Survey Sunday-- In Which City Do You Belong?






You Belong in Paris


Stylish and a little sassy, you were meant for Paris.

The art, the fashion, the wine, the men!

Whether you're enjoying the cafe life or a beautiful park...

You'll love living in the most chic place on earth


What City Do You Belong in? Take This Quiz :-)



Find the Love of Your Life
(and More Love Quizzes) at Your New Romance.



Sunday, May 1, 2005

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Survey Sunday-- Asshole/Bitch Test

I am 38% Asshole/Bitch.
.
I may think I am an asshole or a bitch, but the truth is I am a good person at heart. Yeah sure, I can have a mean streak in me, but most of the people I meet like me.

Sunday, April 24, 2005

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Survey Sunday-- Which Sex and the City Vixen Are You?



Which Sex and the City Vixen Are You?



You Are Most Like Charlotte!


You are the ultimate romantic idealist

You've been hurt before, but that hasn't caused you to give up on love.

If anything, your resolve to fall in love is stronger than ever.

And it's this feminine optimism that men find most appealing about you.



Romantic prediction: That guy you are seeing (or crushing on)?

Could be very serious - if you play your cards right!




Which Sex and the City Vixen Are You Most Like?
Take This Quiz Right Now!



Find the Love of Your Life
(and More Love Quizzes) at Your New Romance.



What?! I was sure I'd get Carrie or Samantha! Who knew?

Sunday, April 17, 2005

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Survey Sunday-- What Type of Punker Are You?

What type of PUNKER are you???

Alternative Punker!!!

Green Day(pictured), Blink 182, Afi, etc:You pretty much either used to be punk, and softened up, or you are one love song away from a poser.

Personality Test Results

Click Here to Take This Quiz
Brought to you by YouThink.com quizzes and personality tests.

Sunday, April 10, 2005

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Survey Sunday-- How Emo Are You?


I am 26% Emo.
.
Hmm.. I should stop listening to Dashboard Confessional.... enough said... Now that I stopped looking at my shoes, I know how the real world looks.

Sunday, April 3, 2005

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Survey Sunday-- What Icons Are for You?





What Icons are for you? by ladyallie
Username
Favourite Colour
Sex
Your Love icon is...
Your Sad Icon is...
Your Happy Icon is...
Your Angry Icon is...
Your Food Icon is...
Your Animal Icon is...
Your Random Icon is...
Your Cartoon Icon is...
Your Sexy Icon is...
Quiz created with MemeGen!

Sunday, March 27, 2005

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Survey Sunday-- Which Ender's Game Character Are You?



AlaiID
Which Ender's Game Character are You?

brought to you by Quizilla

Sunday, March 20, 2005

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Survey Sunday-- Act Your Age




You Are 27 Years Old



27





Under 12: You are a kid at heart. You still have an optimistic life view - and you look at the world with awe.

13-19: You are a teenager at heart. You question authority and are still trying to find your place in this world.

20-29: You are a twentysomething at heart. You feel excited about what's to come... love, work, and new experiences.

30-39: You are a thirtysomething at heart. You've had a taste of success and true love, but you want more!

40+: You are a mature adult. You've been through most of the ups and downs of life already. Now you get to sit back and relax.


Thursday, March 17, 2005

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Another Meme

Current mood: hungry



How tall are you?
5'10"

Have you ever smoked heroin?
What? You can SMOKE heroin??!! Eghads!

Do you own a gun?
No. Don't trust myself with one!

Have you ever been arrested?
No.

Rehab?
I'm assuming that, in this case, "rehab" refers to "drug rehab". So the answer would be no. If it's referring to "physical therapy" the answer would be yes.

How many of your friends have committed suicide?
None.

Do you shave your crotch?
No. I have had my crotch shaved for a hernia operation, though. It itched when it grew back.

Would you fuck someone in a cemetery?
If he were a vampire.

Do you ever punch yourself?
Maybe slap myself around a little...

Have you ever killed an animal?
Not purposely.

Are you Irish?
Nope. American. If you're talking about my ancestry, it's English and German. Irish people probably would hate the likes of me!

Who would you punch if you could?
Dang, this survey is violent! I think I'd punch George Bush, but he's already pretty brain-damaged. Could I kick him in the crotch instead?

What do you think of hot dogs?
I don't like them. I have to disguise them with lots of mustard and relish in order to eat them.

What is your favorite smell?
I have many, it's difficult to pick just one. I love Obsession for Men when Chuy wears it.

What do you prefer to drink in the morning?
I always greet the morning with a big glass of water and then later, a Diet Coke.

If you had the chance, which city would you go to right now, SF or NYC right now?
NYC. I have been to SF recently but not to NYC since 1985.

Do you do pushups?
*snorts derisively* NO!

Do you ever fantasize about murder?
Sure, but only on a global "Queen of the Damned" scale. I don't lust for any one person's blood.

Would you fuck Victoria Gotti if you could?
Um...no. I'm a woman, for one thing. But if I were a man, I would find her sleazy and annoying.

Have you ever done ecstasy?
No, can you believe I spent over a year in the rave scene and was never convinced to try it?

Are you straightedge?
No. I drink every once in a while.

Are you vegan?
HELL NO!! I think vegans are INCREDIBLY self-righteous and annoying. Human are OMNIVORES and are meant to eat meat.

Do you shoplift?
No. I'm not eight years old! Sheesh!

What’s the last thing you stole?
I stole some woman from Florida's source code for my original blog until I could find something more original. I got caught, too! (see my blog about it titled "Beach House Rules")

Do you ski or snowboard?
No. No interest in it, and now I can't due to my osteoporosis.

What do you think of moustaches?
I love them! Chuy, grow yours back, please!!

Do you use hair gel?
No. I have perfect hair.

Do you sniff cocaine?
No, never. Sniffing flowers is more my speed.

Who is your favorite serial killer?
Wow, I have a sick fascination with serial killers. I think my favorite is Charles Sobhraj a.k.a. "Serpentine". Sobhraj is a Euro-trash version of Ted Bundy. I like my sociopaths with some style!

Have you ever made out with your friend's bf or gf?
NO. That would be the lowest of the low.

Have you ever been caught mid-hump?
No, but mid-makeout by my stepdad when I was, like, 16.

Have you been shot?
NO!

Have you ever been hospitalized?
Yes, a few times.

Do you like painkillers?
Yes and no. I was on them for many months due to the aforementioned hospitalizations and they helped enormously, but I think they killed some of my brain cells. I swear I am much stupider now.

What is your secret weapon to lure in the opposite sex?
I don't know! You'd have to ask my many victims!

Have you ever lubed up your genitals with soy milk?
What the...?????

Do you own a knife?
Just kitchen knives and it took me years to get up the nerve to buy really good ones. Too afraid I might use them inappropriately!

Have you played ghettopoly?
No, but I read about it.

Have you ever bought drugs in the "ghetto" or "hood"?
No. Generally, I stay away from those areas. I'm a tall, blonde, white woman. I wouldn't exactly be lo pro.

Do you have ADD?
No. I have no learning disabilities whatsoever. Numbers seem to exit my brain really easily, though. Perhaps some discalcula?

Have you ever had a head injury?
Not that I can remember!

How many virgins have u slept with?
None that I know of. I wouldn't want to.

Do u love the pain a tattoo brings?
I don't have any tattoos, so I guess the answer is no.

Have you ever had a near death experience?
Not really. My skydiving accident was probably the closest, but I was already on the ground when my ankle snapped and I landed face first in the mud.

Have you ever owned shoes that had Velcro fasteners?
Yes. Pants, too. Velcro's kewl!

If you found your true love and your child hanging from a cliff who would you grab first?
Neither. I have arthritis and a shoulder injury. I'd never be able to hold on. I'd get some help and rescue them both!

Tuesday, March 15, 2005

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Love Note
Current mood: starry-eyed

I hadn't gone grocery shopping in a week, and our larder was rather empty. Even worse, Chuy was out of coffee and cookies. It must be understood that coffee and cookies are Chuy's breakfast every morning and, for him, to be out of them both would be tragic.

So, last night, as I was putting away the coffee, cookies, and other items that I had just bought at Albertsons, I realized that this is what people who love each other do. They notice what it takes to make the other person happy, even if it's the simple act of keeping him replete with Nestle Clasico and MarieLu's.

I was so filled with love at that moment that I grabbed one of my pink stickynotes, penned "Te amo!" in large purple letters and stuck it to the brand new coffee jar. I knew that when Chuy opened up the cupboard the next morning, it would be the first thing he saw.

What I didn't expect was that, today, when I got home and made a beeline for the computer, the first thing I saw, stuck to the screen, was my love note. In large purple letters that matched the intensity of my declaration to him, Chuy had added "MI TO MY LOVE"

Sunday, March 13, 2005

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Survey Sunday-- Global Personality Test



Global Personality Test Results

Stability (37%) moderately low which suggests you are worrying, insecure, emotional, and anxious.


Orderliness (66%) moderately high which suggests you are, at times, overly organized, reliable, neat, and hard working at the expense of flexibility, efficiency, spontaneity, and fun.


Extraversion (73%) high which suggests you are overly talkative, outgoing, sociable and interacting at the expense too often of developing your own individual interests and internally based identity.

Take Free Global Personality Test
personality tests by similarminds.com




trait snapshot:


clean, self revealing, open, organized, outgoing, social, enjoys leadership and managing others, dominant, makes friends easily, does not like to be alone, assertive, hard working, finisher, optimistic, positive, likes to stand out, likes large parties, respects authority, practical, high self esteem, perfectionist, dislikes chaos, busy, not familiar with the dark side of life, controlling, high self control, traditional, tough, likes to fit in, conforming, brutally honest, takes precautions

Sunday, March 6, 2005

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Survey Sunday-- What Kind of Handbag Are You?



You Are a Classic Gucci Bag


You've got style mastered - because you stick with what works

Like this Gucci Bag, you prefer classic items that stand the test of time

You're also a bit of a practical girl, who prefers function over fluff

You prefer a big bag, so that you can have your stuff with you at all times




What Kind of Handbag Are You? Take This Quiz :-)




Find the Love of Your Life
(and More Love Quizzes) at Your New Romance.

Friday, March 4, 2005

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Death of the American Dream
Current mood: morose

Maybe it was after reading The Great Gatsby in high school that I received my first inkling that no, in point of fact, you can't get whatever you want just by putting your mind to it. Regardless of how rich he had become or how many grand parties he threw, Jay Gatsby would never win Daisy away from Tom Buchanan. The realization killed him.

But it was 22 years later when I finally had to give up my dream of getting pregnant and giving birth to a healthy, lovely, intelligent child that I finally, finally got the message that wishing it so doesn't make it so. That working hard to make it so doesn't make it so. That "putting your mind to it" doesn't make it so. That some things just aren't so! And the realization didn't kill me.

But I wish it had.

Wednesday, March 2, 2005

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from "I'm an Intern in New York"
Current mood: busting a gut

IMPORTANT DISCLAIMER: I did not write the following blog, but I wish I had! It's about buying fake purses in New York's Chinatown. This guy's blog is called I'm an Intern in New York. He works at Comedy Central. Enjoy!

Chinatown 2: The Revisiting
I thought I'd seen everything, ladies and gentlemen. When the Berlin Wall fell November 9th, 1989, once again uniting East and West Germany, I cried. When John Glenn lifted off for a second time at age 77 to become the oldest person to ever travel in space, I cheered. And when Tootie used a Hearse to take her driver's test in episode ..147 of The Facts Of Life, I nearly crapped my pants. But after this weekend, it became clear that I in fact hadn't seen everything.

On Saturday, I traveled with a friend to the downtown district known as Chinatown. She was looking for "a purse," which in Chinese means "3 or 4 purses." We browsed many store fronts, "fronts" being the important word for the day. More on that later.

It is bizarre to see little, old ladies trying to push merchandise on an unsuspecting public. You see them and think they're going to give you a sugar cookie or something, but instead they say, "I got what you need. You need something? I got what you need."

After one lady strolled up to me and told me she had what I needed, I said, "You have an original, still-in-the-packaging, mint condition Star Wars Millennium Falcon action playset??" She looked around shifty-eyed. And then, wouldn't you know it, out of her pantaloons came an original, mint condition Star Wars Millennium Falcon action playset, still in the packaging. Amazing, I thought.

"I'll give you $5 for that," I said.

She said, "What? Look, mint condition. You look, still in packaging. Hard to find. I sell for $15."

Here's where my haggling skills come into play. Watch and learn, ladies and gentlemen...

"Deal!" I said, grabbing her hand almost violently and then shaking it.




Haggling Skill No. 256
When you want to end your haggling session and accept the given offer, yell "Deal!," grabbing the person's hand almost violently and then shaking it.



So, I had what I came for. Now, we needed to find a purse for my friend. But where? Where in Chinatown would we possibly find a purse, specifically one that's inexpensive, poorly made, and sold by big, burly males who seem to know an awful lot about purses for being so big and burly?

At last, success! Hidden away behind all the purse stands was a purse stand. This purse stand looked much like a garage. I think it was the garage door which made it look that way. The walls reminded me of a Payless shoe store. And also a garage. Hung all over were purses, purses, purses of all colors, shapes, and sizes. The big, burly gentleman managing the place was eager to please and was a master "purseman," I might add. His knowledge of purses seemed to explode out of him.

"Here you go. This one shiny. Glitters a bunch. Make you look real pretty for going out to dinner," he said. "Here, you look. It opens, it closes, it glitters. It real shiny."

"You sure do know your purses, sir," I said. "I mean, come on," I said to my friend. "What other choice is there? This one opens AND closes! And LOOK, it's all glittery and shiny and shit."

But, alas, despite the expert sales pitch, my friend wasn't convinced. She quickly glanced at the three walls of the purse stand which weren't a garage door. She asked the purseman if he had anything else, besides what was on display.

Here's where the purseman became very quiet. He looked us up and down suspiciously. Then, he went to the back wall of the garage -- I mean, purse stand. Oh fine, it was a garage, okay? It was a garage dressed up to looked like purse stand. Are you happy?

Anyway, he went to back wall of the purse stand and, after looking out onto the walkway entrance for a second or two, knocked on the wall three times.* To my surprise, a small section of the wall, maybe 5 ft. high by 3 ft. wide, clicked and then opened up.** There seemed to be whole other section of purses available, probably the ones which were acquired through legitimate channels, and not ones which were in any way illegal. ***

The purseman gestured for my friend and I to go inside. My friend went in to look at the recently uncovered purses, which again I can only assume were obtained through the most honest and reputable channels. I mean, let's be frank here, people. Some purses are just too non-illegal to be kept in the front. Am I right?

The purseman closed the door behind her, then he asked me if I wanted to go inside, too.

"No thanks," I said. "Just make sure she comes out again and doesn't become part of some illegal, underground, sweatshop slavery ring, alright?"



Haggling Skill No. 128

If the person you're shopping with is suddenly removed from your field of vision, be sure to tell a nearby clerk that you don't want them to become part of some illegal, underground, sweatshop slavery ring.



Well, I'm happy to report that my friend did come out of the tiny door, and was completely unharmed. She did smell like a cock fight, but that's neither here nor there. Unfortunately, she didn't find a purse.

So, broken and beaten, we wandered the streets of Chinatown aimlessly, hoping to find another stand that sold purses. Five feet later, we'd found one. And, astonishingly enough, we'd passed ten on the way.

Well, my friend eventually found a purse, and a fun time was had by all.


Chinatown Fun Fact!

Not many know this about Chinatown, but its people, its hundreds of restaurants and shops, and its booming fruit and fish markets are actually 87% purse.
****


* I'm not good enough to make this part up.
** Or this.
*** Or this.
**** This, I am.

Sunday, February 27, 2005

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Survey Sunday-- What DJ Are You?

Miles Maeda
Miles Maeda...

You're laided back, the "cool" guy.
You're either lazy, or you appreciate the easy,
mellow sounds of deep house, jazz, and
atmospheric tuneage.


What DJ are you?
brought to you by Quizilla











Currently

listening
:

Vol. 3-Nude Dimensions


By
Various Artists

Release date: By 02 October, 2001






Friday, February 25, 2005

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Movie Whore

Thursday, February 24, 2005

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The Seven Deadly Sins Survey

WRATH

1. With whom did you last get angry?
A student who defied me.

2. What is your weapon of choice?
Words. Compassion. Sometimes guilt, if I think it will work.

3. Would you hit a member of the opposite sex?
I guess so. I hit Chuy on the shinbone once. Damn near broke my hand! I'll never do that again!

4. How about of the same sex?
I just feel too old and fragile to do that, but I'm capable of anything if provoked.

5. Who was the last person who got really angry at you?
Probably a student who didn't get his/her way and was too immature to see why I couldn't allow him/her to get his/her way.

6. What is your pet peeve?
Wow, too many to list here, but I guess my main one is being interrupted/not being listened to.

7. Do you keep grudges, or can you let them go easily?
OH YEAH, do I EVER keep grudges. There is really no rhyme or reason that I have about who gets forgiven and who never gets to see or hear from me again (or, worse, who gets my wrath). All I can say is that you never, never want to cross me. I am like a private detective/pitbull when it comes to finding out how to crush you. Sometimes just knowing that I COULD crush you keeps me from actually crushing you. Like I said, no rhyme or reason. Best not to find out!

SLOTH

1. What is one thing you're supposed to do daily that you haven't done in a long time?
Take my calcium. I know, I know. I'm absolutely CRAZY! I think it's because it gives me a stomachache (or because I really don't want to live).

2. What is the latest you've ever woken up?
Don't remember. Depends on when I go to bed! I need about nine hours of sleep, but usually get around seven.

3. Name a person you've been meaning to contact, but haven't:
My dermatologist.

4. What is the last lame excuse you made?
Hmmm...not really one for lame excuses. I guess it would be "I've had a hard day, so it's okay to eat this Whopper. Oh, and king size it, would you? Oh, and could I add a strawberry shake to my order?"

5. Have you ever watched an infomercial all the way through (one of the long ones...)?
Yes. I find them interesting. I've actually bought some stuff advertised on them. Can't say I recommend doing that!

6. When was the last time you got a good workout in?
What is this "workout" you speak of? Does pushing the remote count?

7. How many times did you hit the snooze button on your alarm clock today?
OMG! Like, four times! I hate getting up in the morning!

GLUTTONY

1. What is your overpriced yuppie beverage of choice?
Bottled water.

2. Meat eaters: white meat or dark meat?
White, white, white. I hate dark meat (except when it comes to men *lecherous laugh*)

3. What is the greatest amount of alcohol you've had in one sitting/outing/event?
Don't know. Maybe four or five drinks? Certainly not when I'M buying!

4. Have you ever used a professional diet company?
No. I may need to, though!

5. Do you have an issue with your weight?
Never used to, but then I turned 30 and it all went to hell. Since I was ill and had four surgeries in nine months and also quit taking fertility drugs, I recently lost 20 pounds. I'd love to keep them off and lose even more, but I don't advise using my "weight loss method"!

6. Do you prefer sweets, salty foods, or spicy foods?
Depends. Sometimes I prefer crunchy vs. smooth texture, or fresh vs. fried. Sometimes my cravings coincide with my cycle.

7. Have you ever looked at a small housepet or child and thought, "LUNCH"?
WTF???? Hell no!

LUST

1. How many people have you seen naked (not counting movies/family)?
Don't remember. Many.

2. How many people have seen YOU naked (not counting physicians/family)?
Don't remember. Many.

3. Have you ever caught yourself staring at the chest/crotch of a member of your gender of choice during a normal conversation?
No. My gender of choice is a guy, and I don't look at their crotches. But, okay, once this well-endowed student had her blouse zipped down to her navel and her breasts were falling out and I really wanted to tell her to zip up her blouse, but that would mean admitting that I had noticed her breasts and I'm not a lesbian and it just wasn't worth "going there".

4. Have you "done it"?
Define "it".

5. What is your favorite body part on a person of your gender of choice?
Chuy's tookus.

6. Have you ever been propositioned by a prostitute?
No, but I've been mistaken for one! Twice!

7. Have you ever had to get tested for an STD or pregnancy?
All the time. When you are going through infertility treatment, it's just a fact, Jack.

GREED

1. How many credit cards do you own?
Three.

2. What's your guilty pleasure store?
Target!

3. If you had $1 million, what would you do with it?
Pay off my mortgage, pay off my student loans, travel for a few weeks/months, and invest the rest. If I earned enough annual interest on the principal to equal my present salary, I'd quit my job.

4. Would you rather be rich, or famous?
Rich, rich, rich. I have NO desire to be famous.

5. Would you accept a boring job if it meant you would make megabucks?
Yep. But it would have to be really megabucks (like $120,000 and above).

6. Have you ever stolen anything?
Yep.

7. How many MP3s are on your hard drive?
Maybe eight. I get them for free from amazon.com (Legally! You should try it!)

PRIDE

1. What one thing have you done that you're most proud of?
I went to Italy by myself for a month.

2. What's one thing have you done that your parents are most proud of?
I haven't a clue.

3. What thing would you like to accomplish in your life?
Well, the only thing I wanted to accomplish was to have a baby. And I can't now. So, I bought a condo, which was my only other life goal. Why am I still alive? Beats me.

4. Do you get annoyed by coming in second place?
Yes. I like to win.

5. Have you ever entered a contest of skill, knowing you were of much higher skill than all the other competitors?
Huh. I don't really enter contests like that. I know that I used to enjoy reaming other people in checkers games when I was, like, ten!

6. Have you ever cheated on something to get a higher score?
Maybe. When I was in eighth grade, I did start answering questions on a test before the teacher told us to begin (and I got caught, and punished, like ALWAYS whenever I even attempt to do anything bad).

7. What did you do today that you're proud of?
I corrected some essays, even when I didn't feel like it.

ENVY

1. What item (or person) of your friends would you most want to have for your own?
My friend Katy's little girl, Marika. What an adorable child!

2. Who would you want to go on "Trading Spaces" with?
I'd say Erika, since she and I both have good taste and I know I could trust her. Plus, her apartment has such great potential!

3. If you could be anyone else in the world, who would you be?
I honestly do not know. Maybe Reese Witherspoon? She is young, has cute kids, a good career, and a hot husband. Plus, she's Southern and I'd like that.

4. Have you ever been cheated on?
Yes, but it was an odd situation. I was driving to Los Angeles to see someone on weekends, you know how that is, and this woman was more geographically available. The guy and I broke up, but not about that, and not right away after I found out (when she called his apartment and I answered).

5. Have you ever wished you had a physical feature different from your own?
Um, YEAH! Shall I make a list?! Let's start with my myopic eyes, my saggy boobs, my flat ass, my poochy stomach, my mole, the list goes on and on!

6. What inborn trait do you see in others that you wish you had for yourself?
Style.

7. Do you wish you'd come up with this survey?
In a way. I think it's clever.

8. Finally, what is your favorite deadly sin?
Well, obviously I'm no stranger to any of them! I guess I most often indulge in the sin of gluttony (based on my flab!).