Archives for posts with tag: opinion

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The world went berserk the other day when Melania trump showed up with don the con to survey the damage of hurricane Harvey in a pair of 5 inch stiletto heels.

I was one of them. I want to try to explain why this made me angry.

It was pouring rain here in Virginia on Monday. When I was dressing for work, I thought about what I should wear, because, like I said, it was raining. I’d have to walk from my parking lot to my office, and knowing I would encounter several puddles, I chose to wear my sneakers.

So when Melania knew she was going to a flood zone, an area ravaged by 2 days of rainfall, she chooses to wear fuck me pumps. Why? Because she is totally out of touch with reality.

She’s been lavished with money and privilege for so long that she need not worry about stupid little details like stepping in puddles or remembering your umbrella. She is used to stepping directly from limo to Neiman Marcus without a drop of rain hitting her perfectly coiffed head.

She made no effort to appear humble, or ordinary, or commonplace. She feels the need to be stunning at all times. She has no clue that appearing in Houston in an outfit that probably cost more than most people make in a week is offensive.

Just like her stupid, dimwitted, lying husband, she is clueless as to what being a real American is about. Just stick to your ivory tower, FLOTUS…you don’t fit in out here with the rest of us.

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resist

It’s no secret that I hate Donald trump. I am patiently waiting for his impeachment, but I am guessing a major White House probe takes some time. So, in the meantime, here are a few things  I do to make me feel a wee bit better until trump is shown the back door to the White House, preferably in cuffs.

I refuse, flat out refuse to refer to him using the “P” word, other than to hashtag #NeverMyPresident. I’ll call him the Disaster in Chief, but never by the “P” word. He’s not worthy of it.

I have decided I will not use a capital letter in his name. He is not a proper person, so he is not entitled to a capital letter on his name. It’s silly, but I simply love doing it.

I refuse to fly the American flag. My husband was able to procure a few very large American flags from when he worked at a major entertainment venue. For years on national holidays we would drape one or more of these flags off our front deck.

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No comments about how it’s touching the ground. Hubby fixed it after he saw the photo.

But I refuse to do this while trump is still in office. I feel so unpatriotic about how things are going in Washington that I feel like flying this flag that I love would by hypocritical.

Ditto on singing the National Anthem. Thank goodness I never have to recite the Pledge of Allegiance because I don’t know if I could get through that one either.

Most days I pass a chalkboard wall near my office called the Freedom of Speech wall. And each time, if there is chalk and available space, I write #RESIST and “trump lies.”

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Many who see me writing it smile and nod once I’m done. So far I’ve never had anyone yell at me for it, but I see it erased or altered a lot. No biggie.

For a while some asshole was writing “THANKS ICE” on the wall. He’s entitled to his opinion, but not a day went by where it didn’t wind up saying “THANKS ICE CREAM” or “THANKS RICE” or “THANKS LICE” compliments of yours truly.

These are small, insignificant acts. My constant Twittering against trump, my Ides of trump postcards I mailed out, and the various other tactics I used to show my disrespect and displeasure towards the douchebag in the White House may be silly, but they make me feel so much better.

I may be petulantly persisting, but it’s a hell of a lot better than complacently complying.

#RESIST #PERSIST #NEVERMYPRESIDENT #IMPEACHtrump

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For years and years I was not a fan of Twitter. I just didn’t get it…throwing a thought out there for nobody to see. Me? I’m more of a Facebook gal…friends and comments and likes and sharing. I love the interactiveness of it. I had a Twitter account, I just rarely used it.

Until the election.

I quickly realized that posting my feelings about then candidate Donald Trump turned my Facebook page into a battlefield of opinions. I didn’t like that. I also didn’t like seeing other people’s crap about Hillary, so I stopped posting political things. And, after unfollowing the majority of my über vocal and misinformed Republican friends on FB, things got a lot better.

But I needed to vent somewhere.

So, I turned back to Twitter. There I could pretty much say whatever I wanted to. I only had 40 or so followers…who was there to offend? I voiced my outrage against Trump and my love of Hillary on a daily basis during the election.

I spent all three Presidential debates at the computer, Tweeting good points and bad, and reading what others had to say. It was very enlightening – maybe there WAS something to Twitter that I had previously overlooked.

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And then, numb, afraid and pissed off on November 9, I began my new relationship with Twitter. I began to follow like-minded Americans who refuse to swallow the Orange Kool-Aid. I am hash tagging and retweeting to anyone who will listen to my outrage against Trump’s lies and contradictions.

Twitter is my platform where I can stand up and scream, “THIS IS WRONG!” And I love it.

I’ll still post a few things here and there regarding our liar-elect on Facebook, but I mostly reserve those things for Twitter. Now I just need to get more than 46 followers….

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For Christmas my girls bought me a Matchbox Karmann Ghia. I have a small collection of Karmann Ghia cars on my desk because it was the first car I ever owned and it is quite possibly the coolest car on the planet.

I was excited when I opened it, and then I looked closely at the car. Wait, was this a Karmann Ghia? I quickly scanned the packaging…Yep, it says Karmann Ghia down the side. But this car really looks nothing like a Karmann Ghia.

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Here is an example of a good Karmann Ghia model. Note the rounded headlights that protrude, the rounded front nose. Note the back that slopes downward, but has small fins. Also note the convertible top. I had a convertible, and the when the top was down, it looked just like that.

Now, look at the piece of crap Mattel/Matchbox tried to pass off as a Karmann Ghia

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This looks nothing like a Karmann Ghia. Nothing. This could be any car – it lacks all the tell-tale characteristics…the personality of a Karmann Ghia. Really look at them side by side…do you see ANY similarities?

I was so disappointed. It sits among my other Karmann Ghia’s because it serves as a reminder of how toy manufacturing sucks these days. How could Mattel let this slide by? How could anyone look at this model and think it’s a proper representation?

What a rip off.

In true Typical Tracy form I have written Mattel and voiced my displeasure and outrage. I doubt I’ll hear back from them. But someone out there needs to know that this is bullshit.

Rant done.

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I woke up on election day feeling fantastic. I had a spring in my step, and was looking forward to heading out to the polls, no matter how long the line. I took my 14 year old daughter, in the hopes that she would be a part of this historic election. And, as I cast my ballot for Hillary Clinton, I had to hold back the tears.

Well we all know how that turned out.

My daughter and I could not stay up for the results. I knew things were going badly. I had nightmares all night long – ones of giant orange dinosaurs chasing me and my family who were frantically trying to hide anywhere we could.

When I woke up at 5 am, I turned on the TV to find out he had won. I turned it back off, got up, and in zombie-like fashion, played Candy Crush. I could not scan my Facebook feed. I could not go on Twitter. And most importantly, I refused to watch the news. Instead, I watched I Love Lucy and The Brady Bunch until it was time to head to work.

Ah work. The morning after the election, my office had a staff retreat. As everyone waited in line for coffee, we all started talking about how stunned we were with the election results, and how despondent we all were about the future of our country. We voiced our fears and our concerns, and it made me realize I was dead right about something I had said to my husband earlier that morning.

I told him I was more thankful than ever to have my job, because I knew that no matter what hellishness was going on in the world outside, I got to wrap myself from 9-5 with folks who are creative, open-minded, and accepting; thankfully I work with a bunch of liberals. I was so very grateful for that on such a dark morning.

I’m also thankful that this same job that I love offers me health coverage. As costs for the Healthcare.gov options sky rocket, and as Trump is promising to repeal Obamacare, I no longer have to worry about where my health coverage is coming from and how much it’s going to cost me. I can’t tell you what a load off my mind that is.

I’m thankful that Trump is a huge liar – because I can only hope that all the hateful policies and promises he made during his campaign were just to get elected. He was never that conservative in the past, and I hope some of his former rational thinking bleeds into his administration. Yeah, I’m sort of banking on him reneging on every promise he made during his campaign.

Somehow I doubt it though. Newt Gingrich wanting a new House Un-American Activities Committee doesn’t exactly give me much to hope for.

The last thing I am thankful for, is that my father was not alive to see this. While I’d love to have him here, I really think he would’ve given up the first time he heard the words “President-elect Trump.”

I can tell you one thing I will do in a Trump world. I refuse to sing or stand for the national anthem until I see that Trump is really working for all Americans. Because as of now, he does NOT stand for the country I love. He does not stand for anything I believe in, and I refuse to show him any sort of respect until he earns it. I also refuse to call him President. Sorry, no can do.

I will give him a chance, though. I will not hope he fails because, unlike Rush Limbaugh who did just that when Obama took office, because I know that would be plain stupid for our country. I know he’ll do well, because with a Republican majority, there is nobody to cock-block him like they did to Obama at every turn. I just don’t know if the stuff he passes will be stuff I agree with.

So we shall see.

I learned one thing from this election…if you believe in Karma, you’re an asshole.

I say this because if there was ever a time in the history of the world where Karma should have come into play, it would have been for him to lose, and lose “bigly.”

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The other night while I was making a batch of meatballs, I got a call from a CNN pollster wanting my opinions on the Presidential election.

Pretty cool, huh? Little ole Typical Tracy sharing her views and opinions in a national poll. So, if new poll numbers come out and Trump’s numbers have dropped, I can proudly say, “yeah, that’s me.”

Now you will have to bear with me. I’m not very adept at talking politics. It’s a subject that has always left me sort of stupefied… kind of like Chemistry or Star Trek. While I have opinions on this election, I find it hard to convincingly express my thoughts.

That having been said, I really despise Donald Trump. I don’t understand how anyone can be voting for him. I just don’t get it.

I know there are a lot of Trump followers who are voting for him only because they really hate Hillary Clinton. Fine. I may not get why they hate her, but at least their vote is more of a vote against Hillary than a vote for Trump.

But there are tons of people out there who are voting for Trump because they like him. And I just don’t get it.

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He’s a fucking liar. Yes, Hillary has lied. Can anyone out there say they haven’t lied at some point in their lives? But Trump lies constantly. He will say A. on Monday morning. By Monday night, A. has been proven to be a lie, and then by Tuesday morning he will deny ever saying A. or, better yet, will find a spin on how it’s Hillary’s fault.

This happens several times a week. It never stops.

He, or his minions, never answer questions. It’s become page one of the Trump playbook: Deny and Deflect. I don’t think he really answered a single question during the debate in any specific terms. His answers are vague, giving little factual information, and then he falls back on his favorite dodge – pivot the heat off of him and blame it all on Obama and Hillary.

His minions do the same thing on every talk show. When asked a question, they deny and bring up 30,000 emails. They do it almost every time. Or, they deny and point blame at the current administration.

I always feel a little dizzy after watching Trumpbots argue a point. You feel like you just stepped out of a shit storm…no a shit hurricane. Okay, an F5 shitnado is more like it.

My point is, we are month away from the election and I know NOTHING OF ANY OF TRUMP’S POLICIES OR PLANS FOR THE COUNTRY IF, IN FACT, HE TAKES OFFICE.

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But I do know how he feels about Rosie O’Donnell, Alicia Machado, and Elizabeth Warren.

I know he fat shames. God, he’d rake me over the coals.

I know he’s stiffed thousands of hard working small business who were unfortunate enough to go into business with. Hell, during the debate a Facebook friend of mine, someone from my hometown in New Jersey said her father was stiffed by Trump and he almost lost his business.

And Trump University? Don’t get me started.

Seriously, with all that is out there regarding his character, I just don’t get how anyone can actually like this guy let alone vote for him.

Now I guess I’ll wait for all the nasty grams.

 

Lonely Boy

When Andrew Gold’s “Lonely Boy” came out in 1976, I dug it. The tune is catchy, and it tells a story – a genre that was popular back in the 70s. Story songs ran rampant on AM radio back then – “Wildfire,” “Brandy (You’re A Fine Girl),” “Billy Don’t Be a Hero” – hell, I could go on.

My husband likes this song a lot, so it gets played on a somewhat frequent basis. But I began to realize a few months ago that the song “Lonely Boy” makes no sense whatsoever. The story it tells? It’s weak.

Let me show you what I mean.

The song starts out with:

He was born on a summer day, 1951
And with the slap of a hand
He had landed as an only son

Ok fine. Welcome to the world Lonely Boy. All’s well and good, until, in verse two:

In the summer of ’53 his mother brought him a sister
And she told him we must attend to her needs
She’s so much younger than you
Well he ran down the hall and he cried
Oh how could his parents have lied
When they said he was an only son
He thought he was the only one

Okay, so in the summer of ’53 our little boy would only be two years old. I could see him being petulant at first – having been pushed aside for his new baby sister. But come on, do you really think a two year old boy would be capable of such deep, inner thoughts?

Wasn’t he pretty much still crapping in his Pampers at that point? I doubt a child with just enough teeth to gnaw on a Zweiback would have the mental capacity to realize that his life was now cosmically altered – that now he was not an only child. Don’t you think that after seeing his newborn sister he might have just toddled off and played with his Tonka truck?

But wait, it gets worse…

He left home on a winter day 1969
And he hoped to find all the love
He had lost in that earlier time

So he leaves home at 18 all pissed off and bitter. Am I supposed to believe that since the age of two this kid has harbored a long standing grudge just because his parents had the audacity to have a second child? That’s just ridiculous! It’s doubtful that as a adult he would even remember the birth of his younger sister, let alone recall it as the time his life changed for evermore.

And with that last line –  “all the love he had lost in that earlier time…” Are we to further believe that his parents totally blew him off once his precious sister came into the act? Did they show him no love whatsoever afterwards? Did they never speak to him? Was he locked in his room and ignored?

It’s so freaking stupid! If the sister had come along when he was 9 or 10 I might be able to buy this story. I could see him being perturbed at not being the golden child anymore and having to share mommy & daddy’s affection (If he were a narcissistic psychopath, anyway.)

But at two? No way.

Listen for yourself, and tell me what you think. Unless it’s to tell me that you don’t give a crap and that I should find better blog topics. That you can keep to yourself.

cheerios

The other day I was watching yet another one of my mindless reality shows…Chopped, or Best Ink, or any of the dozens of others that I seem perpetually drawn to, when a commercial caught my eye. I wasn’t really paying close attention, but then I noticed an adorable little black girl talking to her mom – and her mom was white.

I sat up for a minute…could this actually be happening? I waited, and sure enough the commercial cuts to the father sleeping on the couch. Dad is black, and it clicked for me. It was the first time I’d ever seen an interracial family portrayed in any kind of advertising on TV. I can’t even be sure if there are that many portrayed on TV – I remember the Willis’ on The Jeffersons, but if there were others, I’ve forgotten or didn’t watch that show.

It made me happy to see that ad. It made me feel like as a country we’ve come a long way. I figured it was a risky move for General Mills/Cheerios to put it out there. Sadly, I was right.

The bigots are raising Cain over this simple American family. And why? Interracial couples are everywhere. It’s nothing new – nothing strange. So what’s all the hub-bub…bub?

You know what I think? I think a lot of Americans like to pretend. They want to pretend that everyone is like them, and any deviation from the way they live is dangerous, and wrong. This commercial? It shoved what they hate most right under their noses…that everyone is different. And that world has evolved – evolved greatly since “the good old days.”

The world is filled with all types of couples. The typical American family is not white man & white woman with 2 white kids. They know it, but they can pretend. These narrow-minded dolts who are complaining about this commercial surround themselves with friends who are just like they are. This way they can ignore the changing world around them, until a commercial brings them crashing back to the real world.

They think that this is what’s wrong with the world. Same sex marriage, interracial marriage – they are ruining society! Ruining America! You know what’s ruining America? Idiots like them who can’t cope with a changing world – always looking back to what’s not there anymore.

I’ve always felt that love is love. You can’t change what shakes your groove thang. Some folks like older people, some like younger, some are attracted to those who are tall, or have curly hair, or big fat fannies, or hairy chests. How can people judge what forms of love or attraction are right or wrong? What gives them the right? As long as both people are over 18 and agree that they dig each other, it’s good by me.

So I say, thank you Cheerios! Thanks for being bold, although it shouldn’t have to be thought of as bold to show a family that represents a huge portion of this country.

Lunch

School lunches have gone to hell in a hand basket.

Each and every day, I make my oldest daughter’s lunch. It doesn’t matter what it is – anything to fill her stomach. Her lunch bag usually contains one of two staples; a ham sandwich on a roll or good old PB&J. If for some reason – flood, earthquake or nuclear attack – I don’t have either of these items on hand, she’ll settle for a bag of cereal or some saltine crackers with butter.

Anything to avoid the lunch line.

I’ve asked her in the past if she would mind buying lunch that day. Perhaps I had cramps or felt under the weather and was therefore unwilling to slap together some form of consumable for her noon meal. And her answer is always “no, I’ll make something.”

When I ask her if the food at school is that bad, she says that has nothing to do with it. There just isn’t enough time to wait in the line and eat your lunch. By the time you get your food you only have about 4 minutes to sit down and eat it. She’d rather have the time to eat a crappy lunch and BS with friends than bother with the lines.

You see, lunch has changed since I was in school. When I was a wee lass in grammar school we had a whole hour for lunch. The entire school broke for that hour and once you ate your lunch you had the rest of the hour to play, socialize or poke around town. We had no school cafeteria – that was only available in the high school – so you either ate what mom packed in a brown paper bag (no cartoon character lunch boxes for us) or grabbed something to eat in town.

That’s right. You could leave the school grounds and eat at a restaurant. Our grammar school was in the center of town, and there were a variety of places you could grab lunch if you were lucky enough to have the funds to do so. Lunch out was a rare treat for me, and on the odd occasion where mommy crossed my palm with the requisite $1.50, I was in heaven.

Should I get pizza at Benny’s? 2 slices and a soda for $1.25 or so. That left you change to go to the Variety Store for candy afterward. Or you could head down to Joe’s Subs for a half of a #1 – Ham, cheese, and cappicola loaded with shredded lettuce, tomato, onion and oil & vinegar. There were also 2 options for burgers; Hilgens’ where you could get the student special for your buck fifty (burger, fries and a small soda) or Lange’s, whose fries were of the krinkle cut variety – which I preferred.

And let’s not forget the most coveted option – going home for lunch. Oh, I was so envious of the kids who lived close enough to the school to walk home for lunch. What a total break from the rigors of the school day that must have been – to sit in your own home eating a sandwich and watching a cartoon or two before you had to head back for round two of learning those three R’s.

I only did home lunches in the most dire of cases…like my lunch fell in a puddle. That was when I would run the 9 blocks home, shovel anything edible in my mouth and run right back to school. It was more fun to brown bag it and have time to play.

In middle school your options were somewhat limited because the school was further away from town than the elementary school, and in high school you were too far away unless you had a car. But the point is you had time. Time to take a real break from learning – then you went back to class somewhat refreshed.

My kids don’t have that. They only get around 20 minutes for lunch. That is barely enough time to eat if you pack a lunch that does not require re-heating. My youngest has access to a microwave this year, but she says on days the line is so long that you barely have time to eat once it’s hot. She will buy lunch occasionally, but the lines at her school aren’t as long or move faster. My oldest? She flat out refuses to stand in the line.

It’s one of the things that sucks about their generation. Yes, they have the internet and iPods and TV on demand. But for some reason their school day is like a boot camp – learn! learn! learn! There are few breaks where they can recharge, especially once they get older and their course load is more taxing on the brain.

Lunch time was golden when I went to school…a time to kick back and relax; catch up with friends and maybe step outside for some fresh air. Now it’s an episode of Beat the Clock – cram in your food and get the hell back to class.

Short and sweet, I’m pissed off. There will be language in this post…fair warning.

What kind of a soulless shit turns a gun on little bitty kids? Kids whose life consisted of animal crackers, Dora the Explorer and Thomas the Train. What did they do to you, you mentally unstable worthless fuck?

I don’t care what your political views are, something has GOT to be done to prevent sociopaths from getting their hand on guns that can take out entire classrooms in seconds.

Just days ago some cock sucker killed two innocent people in a mall. Over the summer folks were killed at that movie theater. Another turd killed a bunch of people outside the Empire State Building. And those poor people gunned down in the Temple.

I bet I’m not even naming them all. What the fuck? What the fuck is happening in this country? Am I missing something? Why don’t I hear of this happening in other civilized countries in the world? Why is it only OUR country?

People need affordable access to mental health care and we need to buckle down on who we hand guns out to. Fuck the second amendment – if you want to stand behind that then arm yourself with a musket, not an assault rifle.

I thought this shit would’ve ended after Columbine. And then after Virginia Tech. And yet more and more people are getting killed.

It’s getting so that life in the USA is a game of Russian Roulette. You never know if today is the day where you will run into a lunatic who was able to buy a gun at Walmart.