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Profile Information

Gender: Female
Home country: US
Current location: retired to MidWest
Member since: Mon Feb 18, 2013, 10:15 PM
Number of posts: 6,151

About Me

Still an ardent Irish-American Catholic damnYankee Yellow Dog Democrat socialist after all these years. (cue Simon music) Army brat and wife for many years, now have been on the loose far longer than I was married. After my two red chows died, I took in a mini-beagle cross that I named Molly Maguire, thinking she might need a good Irish name like my original real one. Later she got a baby sister, a smooth-coat JRT I named Brigid after the greatest of the ancient Celtic goddesses. My great-grandfather and his son fought for Michael Collins and barely made it out of Ireland one step ahead of John Bull. They slipped over to Wales for new identities and then forward to the States for a fresh start. That makes me second generation of illegal but certainly justified immigrants. There are precious few people to whose defense I fly immediately, but the list includes Hillary Clinton, President Barack Obama even when I disagree with him - it happens! - and living Irish patriots Gerry Adams and Martin \\\'Mind Your Kneecaps\\\' McGuiness. I pray earnestly for a united and free Ireland rescued from all official British occupation, with every square inch of alleged \\\'ancestral lands\\\' now held immorally and illegally by the invaders returned to the rightful owners. Irish-only rule for Ireland. No foreign masters anymore! I find it passing strange when Brits chide ME about \'interfering\' in Irish politics!

Journal Archives


the perpetrator eventually apologized - to others, not to me, that's for sure - so I'll keep a sharp eye out for such a suspicious gift horse. ie, I don't buy it. If he truly understood the import of his uncivilized behavior and regretted it, he would have made his apology to the person he most offended instead of hiding behind mommy's skirt. A mature MAN would face up fair and square.


But the world at large has trouble believing it, too, just because it is so irrational. It will remain a project for posterity.

I've attended community fireworks displays elsewhere

and enjoyed them all, especially the ones over water.

But yeah, Brigid was more amazing than any other explosion. I'm used to seeing chows and dobies go wild with fury over something, but not a little JRT. Especially not one like her. She and MM are both known as lovebugs. Try to kiss everybody they see - or at least so far.

Firecracker Season

Sadly it's upon us again. Last year Molly Maguire was still so tiny and young that she spent a great deal of time in my arms, often in a baby sack, and of course we were mostly indoors because I don't like the noise either. There are people around here that I know hardly have two nickles to rub together but over the space of a week or more they must set off hundreds of dollars of fireworks. Rage at the world, IMHO.

Anyway, at just six months now, of course Brigid had never heard any such foolishness. I'd been worried about her because she's at least twice as hyper as MM ever thought about being.

So there we were in the backyard around 10 p.m. when all hell broke loose. Looked and sounded like a war movie. MM squeezed in between my feet while I stood there, but she wasn't shaking at all. The wonder was Brigid! She took those screaming, bursting rockets as a direct assault on her pack, and every time one went off she'd charge the fence sounding like a mad chow on steroids. Absolutely vicious! Since both dogs are generally so ultra friendly I hadn't trusted either one totally to even bark if someone tried to come in the house; so I was more than thrilled to see Brigid's furious response to something she didn't approve. It pleased me enormously, since I'd really prefer to have an intruder scared off or at least enough noise made to alert me, because God help him if I'm awake and cornered. Now I won't worry. Brigid was so magnificent that I waited almost a half hour before going back indoors last night, and missed the late news. She got an extra bedtime snack for her performance, too. She kept growling her savage worst at the outdoor noise about half an hour til it stopped. (She probably thinks it stopped because of her!)

You've doubtless heard the story

(overlooking any anachronism) of the 3 priests who showed up right after the Christ Child's birth; the Franciscan ecstatically admires the modesty of accommodations, the Benedictine something else - remember it's been a long time since I read or heard this myself.

And the Jesuit calmly steps forward to ask the parents, "Have you given any thought to his education?"

For a long time I tried to serve the legitimate needs of the rowdy bus crowd, w/o participating in the hateful speech or the sex and drugs so rampant in their set; many of them are old or handicapped or under any number of challenges including two of the most insane men I've ever seen on the loose. The bus driver is supposed to help them up and down the bus steps and take their packages to the door, which he seldom did. He'd even refuse to go to someone's house if he didn't happen to feel like letting them ride that day. So being still rather nimble and admittedly stupid, I happily took over the package carrying and passenger assisting on the frequent occasions the driver gave no indication of budging. Some of those people were so infirm that they would've been virtually housebound w/o proper help.

It did little to sweeten their dispositions, though. When during the trip one (or multiples) would address me directly with their screed, for the first few years I'd start out as gently as possible; for instance asking, "Do you claim to be a follower of Christ, well versed in the Bible, in obedience to his commands?" An angry affirmative would follow, especially after they'd learned what question to expect from me next: "Then would you kindly direct me to the verse where Jesus commands his followers to hate their enemies and everyone who disagrees with them? Because I have never been able to find that in any translation...." Sometimes a minute or so would lapse before they built up enough steam to literally start screaming again, sometimes right in my face. If the driver wasn't screaming at me himself, he'd be egging on the one(s) involved.

Eventually, of course, the situation grew dire enough that I had to start writing reports to the supervisor and various officials who did respond a little but not enough to make any difference. On four different occasions the driver would be barreling down the road, shouting that he would KILL - literally KILL! - the next person who pissed him off. Which was always me, of course. Impossible to get on the good side of a person who dooesn't have one. When I started recording the various rants and sending copies to the officials who should've been stepping in, by that time they seemed to have washed their hands of the matter and the OATS bus regional manager sent me a nasty letter saying that they'd no longer accept my letters and emails, but that if I continued to be disruptive I'd lose riding privileges.

By that time of course I was only riding the bus to prove they couldn't get rid of me no way no how, but the gang was standing on my last nerve. I'd decided not to go anymore after that last day was over, when the driver had tried (2 days late) to get me arrested for allegedly threatening people with a gun, but the driver stopped to go into a bank before dropping me at home, and his 88 year old 'girlfriend' starting screaming and swearing at me at the top of her lungs. Her little partners in crime chimed in, and that's when I finally lost my temper big time. I am (or at least was) a trained contralto, and my voice easily outshouted theirs. I can swear like a sailor w/o blaspheming, and I proceeded to let loose about 4 years of pent-up rage at top volume, some of it in Irish which they didn't understand exactly but knew was uncomplimentary. Then I got off the bus and walked the 3 blocks home.

Well, that evening the regional supervisor called me in one of her self-righteous snits and I yelled at her too; told her where to go and what to do on arrival before I slammed the phone down in her ear. Several church ladies got wind of the blowup and called me to criticize my unladylike behavior, and they got the same response. By that time I was so enraged that I wrote another letter to the editor of the local weekly, which he duly published the following week. I said that while I did like some people in town, by far the largest majority I'd ever encountered anywhere were the worst, most hypocritical hellspawn ever let loose on peaceful, law abiding folks; and I didn't intend to apologize to anyone for a single word.

And that's the OATS bus story. Sorry to say, I'm probably too fond of relating it at the drop of a hat because I so like the way it ended. Now I'm just waiting for the old fart driver to die (he never was much better than a dead man walking anyway) and some of the others to go before I consider riding again, IF the bus is even in operation at that time. I can tell you one thing, that crazy driver's scared to death of me because when he encounters me in a local store, he turns pale and runs back to his little bus. One of my good friends who saw that happen swears she saw a giant, dark angry figure spread its arms around me when the bus driver approached, before he noticed me, and that's what made him run.

Not that I'd ever want to take advantage, but it makes me wonder if my guardian angel's a big black dude, ideally suited to terrify racist white enemies. Being such an ancient people, the Irish do seem to have an uncommonly close connection to the spirit world. It probably helps explain also why I've never felt really all alone in my life.

What I've been trying to relate

is how the bad guys don't know how they've strengthened me by their abuse. That's the karmic joke of all time. I've pitched plenty of big fits in public and private and I don't appreciate the assault, but it has worked to my advantage. And it is my personal moral challenge to try to love them what little I sometimes can, because as Dorothy Day, the hardest but most just taskmaster I ever knew, said correctly: "I can tell you exactly how much you love God. You love God as much as you love the person you love the least."

Uh oh.

Well, the anti-Obama venom has worsened dramatically

One thing that amazes me is that at least a few people in this godforsaken xenophobic town have started to be a little nicer to me, at least on the surface. I knew it would be hard to settle in somewhere so isolated, but got my eyes opened quick. And there is a strong backlash operation to anything or anyone the least bit 'different', to the point that several complimentary notes I received in the mail, regarding my letters to the editor of the local weekly, were unsigned! And they were compliments! I guess those people feared others might learn they'd been nice to that damnedYankee Democrat invader. (During the Civil War, which has only lessened somewhat on the surface here, they had to close all the churches because of the deadly gunfights that broke out.) And a lot of the men still play soldier in the woods on weekends. Sometimes I feel like I died and woke up in 1960's Selma.

Anyway, the bad junk I hear and see is the last dying scream of dinosaurs, so in a way it should be music to my ears. I can't attend the local Catholic mission because on arrival almost 8 years ago, I blundered by saying something nice about Jesuits, and the guy that was the visiting priest then had, unbeknown to me, been kicked out by that august order for severe, unrepentant alcoholism. But he had lots of friends here who swiftly made themselves my enemies just because I innocently praised the Jesuits. Well, if it hadn't been that, they would've found something else to complain about - which they did until I left the congregation, not the Holy Roman Church itself.

Then I started walking almost next door to a UMC church built in 1904, and although some people there have gotten almost friendly, when I stopped by one evening to listen to the bell choir practice to see if they played well enough to consider joining, the pastor rushed up to me and shaking all over because he KNEW HE WAS SINNING, he told me not to even think about joining that group. Later on one of the bell choir founders did invite me to join, and I thanked her but said I didn't care to fight with another pastor.

That's one entertaining if disapproved habit I have that scares the tar out of some people - I freely share true stories. People shouldn't feel like they can do what they want and get away with it while their victim has to remain silent. Now the pastor's moving but I really don't believe our episode had anything to do with it, since he was just reflecting the general attitude of exclusive superiority.

In an earlier life I'd been elected to local offices, so I know how to treat people well and be gracious and friendly. But this place has been an education in hell. Can't afford to move and I'm already dug in too deep here to be willing to move anyway. So I take extra care of the good relationships I do have, and have learned how to treasure them more than perhaps I would have otherwise. Astonishingly, some people have even become allies of sorts.

If you HAD made that clear, I wouldn't have taken ANY offense.

But please stop and remember that we do get all kinds of serious garbage flung at us by the troll patrol, and absent any explanation, plus not knowing you from Adam, what else was I to think? Also, reduced funds forced me to retire in a comparatively low cost of living area - a remote corner of the MidWest - and that unspeakable website reflects exactly how most of these people 'think'. I've had trash thrown in my yard, seriously threatening anonymous phone calls, and even bottles thrown at me from passing cars. Sometimes people literally on sight start to scream at me in public, and it's all because they hate and fear President Obama, and they know they're in for a verbal battle when they do. I had to quit riding the local mini-bus which is partly government funded, because of the crazies on there. The bus driver even filed a false police report against me claiming I'd brought a gun on board and threatened to shoot people. Since he waited two days to say anything, fortunately nobody took him seriously. Etc etc etc. So for good reason, I've got a shorter fuse than I used to about anti-Obama crap.

Yes, please next time make your intent clear. I don't like to fight any more than necessary. Absent attacks on my beloved President, I can actually be a pretty congenial person.

I love 'em too

But I also love scooping the rest of you guys just once - JUST ONCE, LORD, IT'S ENOUGH!

Your help in locating the picture will be deeply appreciated.

What led you to believe the other poster merely made a mistake and not a slur, though? It was deeply offensive harrassment. How could he not have meant harm, when he did the equivalent of throwing a dead skunk at a group of people who were not hurting him in the least? If you're right about this, let's see an abject public apology from him and not a left-handed non-apology saying he's sorry we were upset or that we misunderstood his innocent little prank. His pin doll will remain fully accoutered until he does. But don't hold your breath waiting.
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