The things that go through my head

Everything sucks. Everybody is fiddling while the planet burns. Obama just gave the lying thieving bastard banks that ruined the economy another bailout. People are brainwashed tools that refuse to think for themselves. They probably went to school and failed to learn how. Medical and recreational cannabis users are treated like garbage for merely failing to conform to mainstream societies’ reefer madness propaganda. Feminism is a class in university instead of a way of life. As soon as anybody gets a little bit of power, they find a way to abuse it. We are absolutely inundated with advertising of over-priced worthless garbage that we don’t need. Here I am, thinking that the problem is the advertising for products, when the real problem is the big lie that advertising sells: that happiness can be bought and paid for. The things that really matter are the things that we take for granted. Your health, your family, sunshine, a good home, clean air, peace and quiet. Rich people are some of the most evil, power-hungry, corrupt assholes that you will ever meet. Just go to Wall Street and take a look around. Education, as a public institution, like all public institutions, is beyond reform. First they brainwash the indoctrinators and turn them into excellent tools of the patriarchy and then they brainwash the next generation.

Do I sound cynical? Hell yeah. I have just had enough of all the bullshit and I feel like I can’t take it anymore.

Do I swear too much? Well, if the world teetering on the edge of ecological and economical collapse, all the wars, violent corrupt political regimes, as well as the endless persecution of minorities, lifestyles, drug habits, sexualities, politically incorrect plants, women, animals, kids and everybody else are not enough of an excuse to put FUCK on my blog, than I don’t know what is.

Blogging is such a mixed bag sometimes. I love to write and I love feedback on my writing, even if it’s just the occasional comment from the three or four people besides me that actually care about this blog. If you get a following on a blog that you update regularly, after a while you can feel like you have to produce something every single day, even if you would rather splash around in the mud puddles or clean the house or fret about a major life change. I recognize that I love it when people bug me to update the blog because it means that somebody actually cares about what I have to say. But when I don’t want to blog it feels like such a chore. A very strange combination of factors conspired to keep me from blogging for the past few weeks. The fact that I bought a new laptop and I have had the worst case of writers’ block because I am not used to it. I realize that this makes me a very strange cookie and that I should not admit to being this weird on a blog under my real name.

That’s another thing about blogging that sucks. I am continually reminded by the so-called “real world” that everything I put on this blog is accessible to the whole world FOREVER! And that is such a bad, horrible terrible thing. I can’t think of one good, sane reason to care about being held responsible for the things that I say. I stand by them, and if I am serious about that, I should post my thoughts under my real name, by gum. So that’s exactly what I do.

I say that and I mean that, but I can’t help fearing that I engage in a little bit of self-censorship on this blog. There are many times when I think “Can’t write about that, I don’t want everybody to know that!”

Anyway, what has finally spurred me to give up my lame writers’ block excuse is the absolutely ridiculous reefer madness being displayed by the dead tree media of late. First we have this lame dog pile dumped into the Star Phoenix. The dripping disdain for medical cannabis is apparent in the tone of the article and the fact that the editorialists couldn’t even bother to get their facts straight about this issue. They declare that if only that user of “doobies” had just respected the owners’ request to move, there would have been no problem. If only those pesky groups that are continually discriminated against would just go away and quit demanding their rights and to be treated with respect, everything would be peachy keen and smell of roses. As if! This line of thinking brings up a few questions that I think everybody should think very deeply about, before getting defensive and dismissing everything that I have to say.

Why do people get so upset about the idea of cigarette smokers sharing their spaces with cannabis users? I simply do no understand why it is justifiable to punish medical cannabis users in this way. It makes no sense. Cannabis smoke is far less dangerous than tobacco smoke. There is more pollution and second hand smoke being spewed out the back-end of cars than by even the largest group of cannabis smokers. Why the double standard? I can already hear the response from the reefer madness indoctrinated crowd. “But Tanya, marijuana is illegal!” It is very true that people have fought a constant uphill battle to have the well-documented and extensive medical use of cannabis recognized and respected. There was never an excuse for the government to punish people for growing plants. It’s absolute bullocks and inexcusable. There should never have even been a need to prove the medical use of cannabis for it to be allowed to be used legally by people that need it.

This is my long-winded rambling way of saying that there is no excuse for the ridiculous drug laws. Nothing good has come of imprisoning millions of harmless drug offenders, the majority of whom are in prison related to cannabis offenses. Just put that in your pipe and smoke it. The government spends all this time and money punishing people for using the wrong drugs and we have literally nothing to show for it. Unless you consider escalating rates of drug use and HIV infections an accomplishment.

If I get around to writing a proper response to this sewage published in the Star Phoenix, I will be sure to publish it here. I think it’s time for a letter to the editor.

But wait! The reefer madness propaganda machine is just getting started. We get to hear my main man Obama mocking the people who responded to his request for feedback on his site and demanded that cannabis be taxed and regulated. Apparently, putting a stop to jailing people for their personal drug habits is beyond the pale for the Grope and Flail * and simply must be mocked and disdained with witty remarks about wondering why anybody would think that President Obama would want to legalize the demon weed. But they made a grave mistake by dismissing the 53% of Canadians that think cannabis should be legalized. What gives Globe and Mail the right to do that? The politicians and the media are both out of touch with what the people really want.

* To use Canadian Cynics’ terminology.

The DFH were right and I am proud to call myself one.

I was bored so I updated my blogroll with a couple of blogs that caught my attention. I have to say that I love Margaret and Helen. They are a couple of old ladies that have been best friends for 60 years. And they got a lot to to say about a lot of things. They don’t like Sarah Palin or George Bush or Anne Coulter. I completely understand. I do wish that they didn’t discriminate against the big-footed. They love to pick on Anne Coulter by mocking her emu-sized flippers. Those of you that know me personally know how much pride I take in my own personal, gigantic man-feet.

Yes, you heard me! I got size 11 feet. I can wear a men’s size nine, maybe squeeze into a wide size eight if I haven’t eaten in several days, which is never going to happen. Before I had children they were size ten. Having kids made them get even bigger. I can go swimming without any flippers and go skiing without any skis. I love being me, big feet and all. I could not possibly put down another human being merely for the size of their feet. Make fun of her for writing terrible books, run her down for being a deranged lunatic. But don’t pick on her for having clown feet.

Big feet are awesome. They are the greatest things in life. Any guy who would refuse to date me based on my big feet would surely be an intolerable knob. It narrows down the dating field considerably.

Other than the big-feet hating, I really do love Margeret and Helen. They are hilarious and witty.

There are a lot of bad things going on in the world.  This story about the rape survivor refferred to as “having sex” with her assailant.  It’s an atrocity the way that article is written.  It makes my skin crawl.  It’s obviously rape to anybody with two functioning brain cells.  Thirteen year olds can not consent to sex.  Gross and creepy and wrong doesn’t even begin to cover it.

If that wasn’t enough to make you hate the world, there is this horror story about the Canadian government’s refusal to grant refugee status to war resisters. This hits especially close to home, considering that my boyfriend’s dad is a Vietnam draft dodger who escaped to Canada.  I was just at a really great presentation put on with help from the Open Door Society.  One of many things that I learned from them, was that the majority of immigrants coming to Canada are not refugees.  They are immigrants with specialized training in professions that are in high demand.  That’s why there are so many immigrant doctors and nurses in Canada.  We simply poach talented people from around the world, rather than help our own people get the training to perform in the professions.  We are closing the borders to refugees of all kinds, including war resistors.

She sure can turn a phrase. I just had to bring you this awesome quote which made me really happy to read.

Lonni and I are in complete agreement on one point: that women don’t own what our bodies eject. There are plenty of bodily effluents over which I would be happy to waive my jurisdiction, after they’re out and away. But — and this is where Lonni and I part ways — until they’re out, they’re mine. Take my used kleenex, my earwax, my excised tumors, but unless I’ve given you the secret password, stay the hell out of my canals.

And for crying out loud, if a kid is what gets ejected, by all means set it free. Don’t shake it or hit it or send it to bed without its supper. Don’t imprison it in a nuclear family or in some bleak concentration camp of a school. Don’t tell it to lose weight or how pretty it looks in makeup. Don’t abuse it with patriarchal myths about appeasing imaginary dude-centric celestial concierges. Don’t force it to marry some asshole in exchange for money. Don’t throw it out on the streets if it’s gay. Don’t expect a goddam thing.

I only wish I had been introduced to this line of thinking as a young teenager with no life experience. My life would have been completely different. But I will do my best to follow this awesome parenting advice. And I will make sure that my children read some good literature, when the time is right so that I don’t scare the bejeebers out of them.

That bit about school being a bleak concentration camp does touch a sensitive nerve with me, however.

I once went to the Midtown Plaza mall in downtown Saskatoon. It was the biggest mistake that I have ever made in my life. First of all, like every gullible consumer, I wandered aimlessly about the mall with a wad of cash burning a hole in my pocket. But I was also thirsty for a glass of water. No, I did not say a hot steaming cup of Starbucks, I want water. H2O. Not carbonated, over-priced sugar crap. WATER! As a lifelong participant in the educational system, I like water fountains. So off I went in search of a water fountain. Did I find a water fountain, you ask? No, I did not. Therefore I only had two options. 1. Suffer through my thirst until I get home and slurp directly from the tap or 2. Purchase a Dasani or Evian water bottle from the vending machine, wasting my hard-earned cash and contributing to pollution and the planet’s impending ecological collapse. The mall-builders neglected to put in water fountains in a nefarious scheme to separate me from my hard-earned cash. Well, it worked. Are you happy that you pried $1.75 out of my wallet? I certainly hope so.

I hope that you do not require more reasons to hate the mall. But just in case you do, I can provide. I walked past Cole’s bookstore and came across a lame display designed to separate consumers AKA suckers from their hard-earned cash. The display was entitled “20 books to read before you turn 20″. This is not enough to condemn the display. No, it was the books they chose that elicited a mighty eye-roll from yours truly. I have to admit that I have not read “The Diary of Anne Frank” or “The Book of Negroes” and I have no reason to dismiss those books as hackneyed garbage worthy of disdain. In fact, both of those books are on my grand list of “Books I Must Read Before I Die”. The book that gave me pause was “The Fountainhead” by Ayn Rand. I have to admit that I have not read this book and I never will. You see, I suffered through a couple of other Rand books, namely “Atlas Shrugged”. I can not emphasize how terrible Ayn Rand is. Her books are horrible. She tries desperately to be an honorary man by going on about “mankind”. Thanks a lot for erasing the existence of women, jerk. I have no respect for a female writer that is too lazy to use gender inclusive language such as “humankind” or “humanity”. Did she not grow up in a male-dominated world? Did she not feel anger and frustration while reading textbooks in school written exclusively from the male point of view? It sure used to anger me A LOT when I would read absolute garbage dismissing the female experience.

Also, she loves to write gross sex scenes wherein hetero chicks orgasm while men degrade them. It is impossible to read any of her horrible “literature” without scrunching your nose and thinking “EWWWWW!!!!”. I am an expert on Ayn Rand because I once read one of her books. Trust me when I say, don’t read Ayn Rand. Unless you like projectile diarrhea in written form.

Also, Rand is in love with cancer sticks and compares things she loves to smoking. All the time. And no, I am not making this up.

As if that wasn’t bad enough to convince me that Cole’s hates all women everywhere and female experience, they have to put up a truly odious display. A poster entitled Books for Boys. The books were books that any child living on planet earth could and would enjoy. If you answer yes to the following questions, you would like these books:

1. Do you like getting dirty?
2. Do you like taking things apart?
3. Do you like learning new things?

And that is what everybody likes to do, no matter what the configuration of their personal genitalia. It’s what makes you human. There was no “Books for Girls” display, but that was probably a good thing. They are so stupid that they would have probably put books about kittens and rainbows in the “Books for Girls” display and that would have made me even more cranky than forgetting that girls even exist. I wish Coles would realize that girls are human. How about a “Books for Kids” display?

Coles can forget about ever getting my hard-earned money ever again.

I’m starting to sound like a cranky Andrea Dworkin style radical feminist, the older that I get. And that’s all right with me. Male as standard, female as secondary (or worse, non-existent) is the foundation that misogyny is built upon.

I hate The Mall.

Remember a few months back when I got into a hit and run accident and totalled off my beautiful little white 1996 Pontiac Firefly?
Well, I have to admit to having gone through a wee bit of post-traumatic stress, being the overly sensitive person that I am. I used to be a very aggressive driver, maybe a little too much. No, I didn’t drive around town swearing and waving my middle finger out the window while weaving in and out of traffic, leaving a trail of road-rage inflicted drivers in my path. But I did find it rather difficult to stay below the speed limit and I am impatient with people that chat on their bloody cell phones when the light is green. I’ve got places to go and things to do! So I may have occasionally needed a little restraint. But I really took it the other way after the accident. Here I was driving 30 klicks when I wasn’t even in a school zone. Luckily, my boyfriend took me to skool with a few well-placed snarky comments. I totally had it coming.

I was giving him the pleasure of being a passenger in my fine new purple Geo-Metro. (I can never remember the year.) Did I tell you that she only has 123 000 klicks under her belt? That she doesn’t burn any oil between oil changes? That the parts to fix my car are super dirt cheap? That my brother is a Geo Metro aficionado that fixes my car for nothing? No? Well, there you go. My purple Geo Metro is the sweetest ride ever. It also came with a free Nickelback CD and a working CD player. Yes, it’s true that I miss my AM/FM radio and tape deck, but CDs are OK too. But the best thing about my car is the fact that I can drive to the farm four times on a full tank of gas.

As we were driving he pointed out all my flaws as a driver. The fact that I was being tail-gated by an angry swearing dude on a cell phone because I was going really slow. Well, so what, I like driving slow. Of course, I always used to lose my temper at people that drive twenty klicks under the speed limit. Hmmmm. Maybe I am being one of those stupid drivers I am always complaining about.

I wasn’t going to drive like a complete and utter tool! No more of this nonsense. Life is too short to drive twenty klicks under the speed limit and obsess about the number of deaths caused by motor vehicle accidents. It just isn’t worth it. When I took the kids skating in Radisson last night, I drove like a maniac, in the dark, on the highway, over the speed limit, and I didn’t even freak out when I saw a deer crossing sign. I didn’t even fret upon the fact that nearly everybody I know that lives in rural Saskatchewan has totalled their car by running over an innocent deer. I have almost forgotten about that deer I almost murdered because I just didn’t see it. Lots of people die that way. And I didn’t even worry about it. Really. It was really nice.

Am I normal?

sexistcandy

So you say that Yorkies aren’t for girls!  Well, take this, you smelly, sexist candy.  We girls with our scary vaginas are going to OM NOM NOM the life out of you. No wait, we won’t use our scary vaginas, contrary to popular belief they do not contain fangs.  We will eat it with our teeth.  So there you go.  As a revenge for putting sexist crap on your extremely delicious chocolate bars, we spent our hard earned money on you, oh sexist chocolate bar, therefore making money for whoever cooked up this nefarious scheme.

Want to hear a pointlessly funny tangent about my life?  Of course you do, or you wouldn’t have made it this far on my internet soap box.  When I proclaimed to my eldest child Hannah that I was not going to spend my hard-earned money on her anymore, do you know what she said to me???

“HA HA HA HA HA HARD-EARNED MONEY DON’T MAKE ME LAUGH!  You only work 30 hours a week.  You don’t get to call it hard-earned money until you pick rocks out of ditches.”

What an impertinent little brat!  Can you believe the audacity of some peoples’ children?

I am proud to say that I recently got a link from good old Saskboy. February 3 was blogroll amnesty day, a scheme cooked up by Jon Swift to promote smaller blogs like me.  Isn’t that special?  It’s great getting attention for doing nothing.  Really, I have fallen down on the unpaid job of blogging.   What will bored nerds do to kill their insomnia without my inane internet ramblings?  I promise to do better, honest!  I mean it this time.  How could I not blog with all the good things that are going on in the world?  A professional athlete choosing to ingest politically incorrect substances in his free time and I haven’t written about it?  Everybody wants to know what Tanya thinks about weed.  But wait, you already know what I think:  Nobody should be punished for smoking the wrong plants.  What else is there to say about that?  Nothing.  Why is this story even news?  WHO CARES??????  Reefer madness has completely run amok.

A school teacher in Texas loses his job for being too liberal and atheist. Holy Christ on a cracker!  Who knew there was a religious test to teach school in Texas?  Won’t those godpushers give it a rest already?  Speaking of god-pushers, I keep getting prayer rally messages on facebook, even though I have atheist in my profile.  I just don’t understand people.  If you want to read 25 things about me, go here. I know posting links to facebook is lame but I’m doing it anyway.  I like being lame.  I think you have to be my friend to see it, but whatever.