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Tom Coburn is a Big Fat Jerk


Home of the Barking Moonbat


Friday, April 22, 2005

Evil Bastard

How dare he go and do something decent?

You think the least he could do is attach a lesbian rider.

Wednesday, April 20, 2005

I just don't do pissy very well anymore

I'm not ignoring your all's comments below or anything like that.

It's just that, between grading and mowing and the &^$#&!! bunny and the mouse (who's back, the fiend), I'm busy brooding over this complete jiveass bitch of a student I snarked out in class today.

She's one of those hugely busted females who wears visors and lugs huge feminine protection products by the dozens in one of those humongous utilitarian yet "cute" (in a Nebraska ugly way) bags.

God she's annoying. Worse, she couldn't write a sentence without fifty-five extra words in it (all meaningless) if you paid her.

Even worse, she's so used to throwing around her huge bosoms and extra large feminine protection products to get her way that she doesn't take kindly when short people like me tell her where to jump off.

Which I did today, given she's missed half the last month of classes and assumed I'm such a wuss, she'd get away with it. Til I snark-dared her today when first I told her to shut up, and stop relating all her extra large feminine protection product needs to the back half of the class.

Then she tried her typical "What? What are we doing in here?" And I spit back at her "People who attend class know what we're doing. Let's see how many people in here know what this is about." The entire class raised their hand.

A look of total fury came over her. How dare I defy her huge bosomed extra giant feminine protection products persona!

I then snapped at her that if you want to know what's going on, it's a good idea to come to class and, if you don't, it's your responsibility to find out --- and it's not my responsibility to take up everyone else's time to explain it to you.

Boy howdy she gave me the evil eye, and I stared her right back down. Then she lofted up her giant bosoms and her huge bag of all that, and stomped out of class.

I hate telling people where to get off. But if I had to do it all over again, I'd have been twice that snarky.

Tuesday, April 19, 2005

Cosmic soup

New state of matter

Scientists using a giant atom smasher said today they have created a new state of matter — a hot, dense liquid made out of basic atomic particles — and said it shows what the early universe looked like for a very, very brief time.

For a tiny fraction of a second after the “big bang” birth of the universe, all matter was in the form of this liquid, called a quark-gluon plasma, the researchers said.

“We have a new state of matter,” said Sam Aronson, associate laboratory director for High Energy and Nuclear Physics at the Brookhaven National Laboratory.

“We think we are looking at a phenomenon ... in the universe 13 billion years ago when free quarks and gluons ... cooled down to the particles that we know today,” Aronson said.

Monday, April 18, 2005

And tomorrow

I know that, for the rest of you, the world changed on September 11. But for me, the world changed on April 19, 1995.

I remember it was snowing that day. I was in Colorado, driving to a class and listening to the radio. And there was something about an explosion in Oklahoma City, and speculation of a gas leak. I was mildly interested, but not much. Things were always blowing up in Oklahoma.

Then, I switched to Wingnut Radio --- Dobson's Focus on the Family channel. And there was positive exhileration over --- over what? I didn't know --- I liked to listen to them because I thought they were so crazy, but bore keeping an eye on. But they were really worked up that day. Manic. Ranting. Joyous.

I heard the words "Oklahoma City" and decided to take the long way to class. I turned into a housing division, parked the car and listened.

It was then, for the very first time in my life, I heard real live good old fashioned anti-government rhetoric. The host and his callers were thrilled that it had happened. I was stunned.

Dobson and company, I might add, now deny that radio show ever happened. But I heard it. I heard every last word of it. And every last word of it was sanctioned by Dobson, who knew good and well what these people were who were running this show.

Even then, I still didn't know just how bad it was.

I went on to class, a chemistry class. A couple of students were smiling to beat the band and excitedly carrying on what a great thing this was. I began to realize what had happened might be a lot worse than I thought. I left class, sped home, turned on the television and was stunned. I began calling everyone I knew to make sure they were okay. One friend, a soon-to-be doctor, had been a block away when it happened. Half her husband's family worked in those buildings. She'd first run to the scene, then raced back to her car to drive the 98 miles back home so she could make sure her children and husband were okay. Her husband, who is Jewish, said his Synagogue had received a threat just after the bombing.

They were scared. They were crying.

I called my parents. I said to my dad they think it's white supremacists who did it. He said yep, a simple, all knowing yep My dad --- black haired, black eyed, dark skinned, raised in the hills --- my dad knew pretty much all there was to know about old fashioned white supremacy. Its meanness. Its senselessness. Its cruelty.

I discovered that a number of my fellow students were militia members or militia wannabes. I got into furious arguments many, many times and told countless people off. I joined Southern Poverty Law Center, the Northwest Coalition, I vowed to get back to Oklahoma and to never leave again.

I was gone within a month and a half. I swore never to set foot in Colorado again --- Colorado, the first place I ever saw a KKK rally or met a Neo-Nazi. The whitest state in the union. The Alabama of the West, or so it seemed to me.

When I first arrived here, I lived south of OKC. When a siren would go off, people around me would jump. I never could bring myself to see the site of the bombing. Just driving a bit too close to it would make me ill to my stomach.

It is as though the entire world shifted on its axis with that event. I never believed before then that there was evil in the world. I do now.


Today is the anniversary of my mother's death. Tomorrow is the anniversary of the Oklahoma City Bombing. The day after is the anniversary of another brother's death.

I'd forgotten. I'm actually proud of myself that I'd forgotten. Especially because I was so worried because tomorrow will also be the one month anniversary of my oldest brother's death.

I don't have much to say about it. I remember the morning after it happened, driving to the house. It was so, so foggy and so wonderfully spring green with redbuds and dogswoods and azaleas and flowers everywhere just bursting out, set against that wonderful spring fog we get. Every church bell for miles was ringing, in honor of the Oklahoma City Bombing. And I knew that she'd died because she couldn't handle the anniversary of the bombing so close to the anniversary of the death of her son.

A night or so later, I dreamt she came running up to me as a 6 year old child, smiling and happy. She stood and smiled at me for a moment, then ran off into a field. I knew then it was okay that she'd died, even though still today, i sometimes grab the phone to call her and tell her what unusual bird I saw out back.

I remembered with a shock while waterproofing the bunny proofed strawberry bed on the front porch that I built yesterday. She'd approve. She never lived anywhere that she didn't plant strawberries.

So that's where I got that from.

Warming Up

Warming up to my summer routine now. Ran home from classes, jumped into grubs, ran outside, grabbed a pitchfork, grabbed that rootbound little lilac tree. Dig dig dig dig, sort out rocks, dig some more, plunge hands in holes (nails once a lovely home-manicured winter shiny patina sacrificed to digging digging digging), plunge pitchfork in hole again, hear honking ...

... run out front to see who's honking, meet a perfectly lovely woman from down the road who's inviting me to the Wednesday Women's Meeting, meaning all the women have all finally accepted me into the fold, but only because I haven't run off with anyone's husband or boyfriend, haven't once had a wild party, don't appear to do anything worse than smoke pot (although I don't but they're all sure I do because they're all potheads), don't flounce around out front in a bikini or throw myself in the middle of the road looking to catch me the first man to go by, I have a job, I work, I appear studious and, like all of them, I have a perfectly stupid hairdo --- well, okay, I gave up getting hairdos a few years ago and it's now wild and insane and hanging to the middle of my back ...

... give the most gracious thanks for the invitation, panickedly inventory my wardrobe to see if I have anything appropriate to wear to the Wednesday Women's Meeting, dig around in the hole, pull the lilac out of the pot (a job, believe me), tear its rootball apart, drop it in hole, cover with dirt and straw, water, notice my grandmother's iris that I finally got in the ground last fall are getting ready to bloom and are my grandmother's pinks (yu people inherit money --- we inherit plants --- thus, the plant room [don't ask]) ...

... run inside, pull my jeans and shirt off, dump alcohol all over me to chase off the ticks and chiggers and noseeums, put jeans and shirt back on, run back out, grab the lawn mower and mow about a quarter acre, think about doing more, but it looks like it might be getting ready to rain, plus I appear to be covered in *^%$#@!! ticks and chiggers and noseeums, run back in, run the hottest bath I can stand, jump in it and scrub to get the *&^#$@! ticks and chiggers and noseeums off me ...

... put jammies on, fix myself a nice big bowl of locally grown strawberries and fresh cream, chow down ...

... and debate: grading? Or waterproofing the now completely built strawberry bed on the front porch?

Or more mowing? I still have an acre or so to go, as the back part gets brush hogged.

Summer's almost here. I'm just getting warmed up.

Sunday, April 17, 2005

The Plan

1. Affix boards to the two supporting posts on the eastern side of the front porch. The boards must span the length of the porch.
2. Cut some other boards into 2' lengths. Attach to the front and back (respectively) of the supporting posts.
3. Cut down some of my big square beams. Use as corners. Hammer 2' boards into them. Attach long boards on inside.
4. Voila! Almost a strawberry bed ...
5. Put down waterproofing on boards which will be beneath the bed.
6. Lay down some material (combination of cardboard, plastic and weedcloth).
7. Fill with peat, straw, manure, compost.
8. Plant strawberries. And maybe some extra basil, echinacea and whatever.
9. Enjoy watching bunnies freak out because they don't know how to get up on the front porch, so they can't reach the strawberries. Maybe even laugh an evil taunting laugh at the frustrated bunnies wanting to eat all my strawberries.