Posts Tagged with "knoxville"

Yes, I Still Think War Protesters are Moonbats

March 22nd, 2007 at 2:02 am by Mark
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     In 2004, I moved outta DC because the place is pretty much a hell-hole of arrogance and one-upmanship.

     Leading up to the Iraq war, the entire town was behind it save for a few bus loads full of Neo-Nazi Skinheads wearing WWJD bracelets.  Personally, I’m pretty sure Jesus wouldn’t’ve been shaving his head, wearing Swastikas and threatening to kill all the Jews, but maybe that’s just me *rolls eyes*.

     As weeks progressed and the conflict escalated, politicians who’d voted for the war a few weeks prior began spouting rhetoric about how they were always against the war…

     It wasn’t long before the War Protestors started going moonbat-loopy.

     I remember being harassed one morning on the way to work at the Fairfax metro, when I simply walked past the guy trying to hand me his anti-war flyer.  He started screaming, “Fascist motherf&$#er!  You’re a g#$!%m babykiller!”  The rock-salt was down to keep us from falling face first in the slush, but that dear protester decided to see if he could help me fall a little easier.  I turned around and gave him a small shove back, and he finally shut his damn mouth.

     Arriving at work, I was met with another obnoxious punk at the top of the D.O.T. steps.  He was screaming, cussing at everyone who wouldn’t take his flyer.  On Federal Property.  And the D.O.T rent-a-cops wouldn’t get rid of him…

     He was still there at lunch, screaming, shoving people.  And DC people, generally, when threatened, tend to turn Zombie and ignore what’s going on.  They get shoved, they shut down, and continue trying to walk like nothing’s happening to them.

     I am not that way.

     I observed as Mr. Moron accosted an old woman, shoved her down, and busted her purse open.  Her coins went everywhere.  Being typical of the area, people just walked around the bloody-kneed old lady, ignored the screaming moron and went about their business as if it was perfectly normal.

     I ran to her aid, attempted to help her up, and received a short-lived tirade from the moron … short-lived because when he got in my face for trying to help her off the ground, he got a love-pat and a gingerly toss down the Metro escalator.

     And when trying to help the old lady gather her loose change, she simply ignored me, unwilling to make any eye contact, unwilling to accept the money I’d picked up for her.  And nobody else would pick it up.

     There were numerous other stupid incidents which made me loathe to ride the DC Metro after a while (an Asian lady who continually attempted to push me in front of the train, a man who attempted to climb me — standing on the back of my leg and holding my shoulder — trying to push his way into an overstuffed Metro car, the group of suit-and-tie-clad Howard Dean supporters screaming “DON’T TOUCH ME! DON’T TOUCH ME! DON’T TOUCH ME!” and biting passengers for accidentally brushing against them in another overstuffed car), but I digress.

     This is typical of DC.

     It’s a relatively tiny land area chock-full of asinine, and overflowing with WTF.

     Knoxville protesters tend to be at least a little less moronic.  The culture here is very different to DC, in that most people are usually — at least somewhat — nice to each other.  They still scream sarcasm, and use all the silly catch-phrases which don’t apply (general misuse of words and such).  But for the most part, they’re not hitting people.  They’re usually not throwing things at passersby.

     “The smell of patchouli in the air so thick it makes my eyes water,” said Lissa Kay as she filmed this video.

     You can also see that they enlisted the aid of many of Knoxville’s homeless population in exchange for free doughnuts.  I guess they needed to show numbers, and really didn’t think about how demeaning it would be to bribe people to their cause using food…

     Especially when many of the protesters claim that our government was doing that to rural Iraqis…

     Can you say, “Reprehensible hypocrites!” boys and girls?

     I knew you could.

Love Ya, Sue-Bob

February 23rd, 2007 at 12:11 pm by Mark
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Susan Alice Shelley - 12/02/1964 - 02/21/2007

Susan Alice Shelley – 12/2/1964 – 2/21/2007

People living deeply have no fear of death.
— Anais Nin

     Just forty-eight hours ago, I was sitting down to write about what great friends I have.  Mere moments after writing, “Pirates never die,” I received a phone call which showed that the world had decided to see just how much I really believed that.

     She was there one minute, laughing with us like no tomorrow.

     And then she wasn’t.

     We’d met before, briefly, some fifteen years ago.  We knew the same towns, some of the same people.  And when she showed up again last year, it was all so familiar … hard and fast friends, an instant sister, that crazy gypsy, that Wicked Wench.
     It was only natural that I wrote her a testimonial a few months ago:

She’s an incredibly talented artist with a death-lock stranglehold on the eclectic. She’s all fun, all the time, complete with an infectious laugh that can change the mood of an entire bar!

     For those of us who’ve been around her, all we have to do is remember how she she lived: Like there’s no tomorrow.  Nothing left unsaid.  Nothing left undone.  No regrets.

     Laughing at every damn thing — like a bunch of kids with attention deficit disorder — certainly has its benefits.  I remember taking her out for her birthday that night with Niki, going to Market Square…

     Oooh, Kitty!

     (Maybe it’s Susan *grin* Besides, it’s only a 24-Bar Break)

Robinhood: Free Stocks for your Referrals!

Snubbed by Instapundit

February 12th, 2007 at 10:18 pm by Mark
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     Thanks, Glenn.  Appreciate ya.  *rolls eyes in faux disgust*  😉

     Met up with some cool people for Blogfest on Saturday night:

     Oh, and Glenn “Instapundit” Reynolds … *snicker*

     Had a few laughs … Had a few Porters … Had a few more laughs … And then … Met up with some more friends … Had a few more Porters … And laughs … and continued to the next venue(s).

     At some point during the night, I actually turned off my phone and left it in the car, because the business calls were really bringing me down after what had already been a long, long, long, long day.  Four business calls per hour gets old on a Saturday night…

UPDATE 11:26PM GMT-5

     Having just read Rich Haily’s blog in its entirety, I wish to clarify something:

Present but not blogging were Les Jones and his wife Melissa, and Mark Steel.

     I submit that I am not the wife of Les Jones.  I have not, nor will I ever be, married to Les.  Nor has anyone ever, ever called me “Melissa.”  I am also sure that Les is not from Utah, nor Massachusetts.
     That said, however, Les and I do have more in common than most of my recent dates, such as mutual affections for Star Wars, Firearms and making fun of the Dixie Chicks.  *snicker*

Effects of Drugs on Spiders

January 18th, 2007 at 12:24 am by Mark
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     Apparently, Monty’s opened up a can of worms that can’t be shut.  Again, I get put in the position to bring it down a notch.

     In the immortal words of Reinhold Niebuhr:

God grant me the serenity
to accept the things I cannot change;
courage to change the things I can;
and wisdom to know the difference.

Living one day at a time;
Enjoying one moment at a time;
Accepting hardships as the pathway to peace;
Taking, as He did, this sinful world
as it is, not as I would have it;
Trusting that He will make all things right
if I surrender to His Will;
That I may be reasonably happy in this life
and supremely happy with Him
Forever in the next.
Amen.

     To put it bluntly, “Shit happens.  We deal with it, or we don’t.”

     Recompense helps.

     But when even that fails…

     Laughter always makes us feel better.

     Let’s leave our apprehension, anger and fear at the door for a moment.  I mean, hey, it’d do us all good to just sit back, take a deep breath, and have a good laugh.
     Shall we?

Tip: Thanks, Zacque!

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Ego Boosts

January 12th, 2007 at 4:10 am by Mark
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     According to the rules of “Pirate Chicks” (I don’t date and/or do Pirate Chicks) I stay in line.  Mind you, those were my own rules, if for nothing else than to cut down on drama.  I love those girls, and I’ll stand up for any one of them at any time for almost any reason.
     Some conditions do apply — they make their own rules, and can make their own mistakes, and take their own consequences.  But I’d like to think we all know each other well enough that no lines will ever be crossed.  We do what we need to do, and we respect each other enough to step on one anothers’ toes.
     I like that.  It’s friendship.  It’s what we do.
     My Pirate Chicks.
     Cuz I’m possesive like that, and hey, like the Pirate Princess said, I was Pirate enough to Hijack the booty …

We are Mark’s Pirates because he said we are.  He sought out the treasure in true Pirate form and laid claim to the booty.  (In a manner of speaking, of course.  LOL  We all know you don’t date Pirate Chicks, Mark.)   All treasure is not silver & gold, mate.  Some things are better and worth a whole lot more.

     But, there’s this guy, Marty Ray.  He’s the one who brought the whole “Pirate” thing together with an annual Pub Crawl, complete with a designated driver (on a bus, with lots of Jell-O Shooters).
     Thanks, Marty Ray.
     He’s real Karaoke Afficianado.
     It’s not your plain-jane, “Hey, we gonna sang some sheeyit!” Karaoke.  Instead, he plays “popular” music in between, and pretty much keeps the crowd entertained.
     Tonight, I went to one of his shows, propagated by the ass, errrrrrrr, girl, in my Flirting 101 blog… (Ed – Sam: Yeah, that deserves a slap.  Oh, Baby!)

      I had a good time, actually.  I didn’t expect that.

      When I got there tonight at 10PM, the place was a little empty.  A few college kids, not much going on in general.
     But by 11:30PM, there was a line out the door.
     You sit around, being “old,” and just kinda watch for a while.  You have a laugh at the guys “trying” to hit on girls and getting slapped in the face.  You have a laugh at the girls swaggering out the door (even though they’ve been drinking Coca Cola all night) with the object of their affection.
     You have a laugh, basically, at the whole, “Been there, done that, and you are certainly a dumbass!” of it all.
     But I found that every ten minutes or so, some hot young thing would come up and ask me, “What am I drinking?” and I’d tell her how, regardless of that fact that she hates gin, she’d enjoy a Gin & Tonic the way I make them.  I’d instruct the bartender, and she’d love it, and pretty much offer me anything I desired.
     Else, one of them would come up and rub my closely shaven head, and tell me how sexy I am.
     Or, one of them would come up and just ask me, straight out, “Are you going home alone tonight?”

      When you’re old enough to be their father, that kinda crap just seems … weird.  And that’s a good thing.
     Then again … It’s a serious ego-boost to know that I’m still sexy at my age.
       But all in all, it certainly feels good to hear all these young kids singing along to the songs you know.   It also feels good to know that they’re making some of the same dumbass mistakes you made when you were their age.

     For all the stupidity of the night, I had a damn good time.

     I even gained a little faith in the future.
     I mean, at least they’re not fighting each other like we did…
     Maybe they will be a better generation…

     Certainly, they know how to make an “old man” feel pretty damn good by asking him to take them home.

     Especially after they’ve been drinking Coca Cola all night.