Archive for the ‘Rant’ Category

Small Favors, or HoMD #31

Thursday, January 31st, 2008

It occurred to me today that I’m damn lucky to be unemployed at the moment. I’m barely sleeping, my medicine is making me nauseous, and I have no energy for the gazillionth day in a row.

At least I’m not being missed anywhere.

Cruisin’ for a Bruisin’

Sunday, January 6th, 2008

My BFF called me out on my rules for Christmas stockings.

In short, I don’t  have any. The Husband and I agreed years ago to put no limits on stocking filling. Hence we’re allowed to throw in the odd DVD or video game without the cost counting against our set spending limits. Of course the items have to fit in the stocking, but our stockings are fairly large, so no problem.

Now don’t misconstrue the non-rules. Not everything we stuff in the stockings breaks the bank. We simply enjoy a little leeway for a few pricey inclusions. Most stocking goodies are decidedly inexpensive — candy, little toys, key rings, etc —  but occasionally we will purchase too many stocking stuffers, and some of them sort of lie on or near the stockings but still count as stocking stuffers.

So, yes, we play fast and loose with the definition of stocking stuffers. I unabashedly admit I give stocking nearers.

But Miss smab_mouth should remember her stocking included stocking nearers this year, as did her husbands. Granted, these gifts were from The Husband and me, but she benefited from our laissez-faire policy.

Despite her screed against my not-so-ruley rules, this Christmas I adhered to traditional rules of stuffing except for one book, which I managed to shove into place at the top with at least one corner in the stocking. No stocking nearers for The Husband. Granted he received a lovely Blu-ray copy of Planet Earth, but it was in the stocking.

Happy, smab_mouth?

Now that I’ve addressed the BFF’s issues, I have one to address with her. My complaint concerns one of the labels she put on her post about my anarchic stockings.

The label in question is, “I’m not saying I’m just saying.”

She stole it.

She stole it from me.

After I stole it fair and square (sort of) from the public domain.

You see I listen to a political program called The Young Turks. [Check them out if you haven’t heard them. I think they’re brilliant. I love them so much that I’m a paying member of their site so I can hear every podcast.] The host of the show, Cenk, has a phrase I consciously picked up that I simply love and use all the time. The phrase is, “I’m not saying anything, I’m just saying.” It amuses me to no end, hence the fact that I’ve been using it for over two years.

So, smab_mouth, what do you have to say for yourself? Is your name smab_mouth, and do you steal?

[If you can’t tell, I’m angry that I didn’t create the category first. It’s called envy.]

Knock, Knock

Wednesday, July 11th, 2007

Who’s there?

Large man wearing a tie.

Large-man-wearing-a-tie who?

Large man wearing a tie will sit back on his heels while I am rendered helpless by the adorable boy-child giving me the Jehovah’s Witness spiel.

Who could possibly resist an articulate eight-year old (seriously he was ten-years old tops) dressed in his Sunday best? No one. And that’s why the large man wearing a tie looked unforgivably smug.

I begrudge no one their faith unless they try to push it on me. I am an avowed opponent of proselytization. How can these people who don’t even know my name be so sure I’m in need of saving? If they are so worried about my eternal status, they are welcome to pray for me, but please, please do not involve me.

And I would normally share this point of view with a Christian recruiter, but not a cherubic eight-year old. A child doesn’t need to see how cynical a human can become. A child wouldn’t understand my misgivings about religion.

A well-spoken child deserves my attention because moments like this can shape his belief in his own abilities. A faithful child needs me to listen to him because later in life he’ll need that bedrock of faith to get through the hard times in life.

But grown-ups who send out a child to indoctrinate heathens should know better. They should understand that manipulating someone into hearing the Lord’s word is wrong on a basic level. People have to want that help before they can benefit from it.
So I listened to the wee child. I even took the literature he proffered (my very own copy of the Watchtower!). But it won’t accomplish what they wanted. I’m certainly no closer to God than I was before the visit. I’m just angry and sitting here writing this post on how manipulated I feel and how much I hate how they are manipulating that boy.

Inkey V. The Void

Thursday, May 31st, 2007

Brace yourselves, both of you, dear readers. It’s about to get maudlin and murky and grotesquely self-indulgent.

At least four topics stand patiently in the blog-entries-to-be-written queue, avoiding eye contact, when this trauma-posting rudely pushes the others aside and demands to be written immediately, regardless of the consequences.

I seriously doubt anyone wants to hear the details of my angsty state. Who has angst past the age of seventeen anyway? Sadly for you deux, I made a pact with one of you to publish something on my blog today (and aren’t you impressed with my just-under-the-wire performance?).

So, I’m three paragraphs in and I’ve already run out of ways to avoid the subject. Do I have no other clever ways to dance around the subject? To dance with the subject? Damn. OK, deep breath. Now jump. No, seriously, JUMP. NOW!

I spend a lot of time depressed. I’ve spent ridiculous amounts of time and money and effort on therapy, but I still get depressed. Not sad. Depressed. The clinical kind. The kind where it’s hard to justify getting out of bed. The kind where death seems preferable to just about anything. The kind I’m fighting right now. I take pills for it. Pills I’ll surely take until I die. Pills that glue me together because I’m broken. Pills that glue me together so I can function. Pills that don’t always work. And so I still wrestle with depression.

Nothing new, you say? Of course not.

And that’s part of the problem. I’m dead sick of the same old issues. Can’t there be some variety? I need a new nemesis, a new super villain to battle. There must be some other life lesson out there for me to learn aside from, “What is my purpose? Why am I here?” The life lesson that dresses in a flowing black cloak and is known in comic book parlance as The Void.

I tire of bellyaching. I’ll stop here with the realization that I’ve discovered a new blog theme: Inkey v. The Void. Return to this blog for their future adventures in boring self-recrimination and uselessness.

To be continued…

Required Ink #1

Saturday, April 14th, 2007

From the damp and musty headquarters of InkeyBog comes

Required Ink

A new service for our loyal readers (big shouts out to both of you!), Required Ink will highlight readings in the “internets” that are, wait for it, required reading. Think of these links as posts you would have found here, but better written and therefore a treat.

Today’s entry is a spirited rant by Bill Maher on anti-intellectualism and the damage it’s doing to our fair nation. Enjoy!


Thursday, March 29th, 2007

I worked on one of my many projects last night with my new toy (a 4-thread serger). It ended badly with my project tattered, the machine limping, and me in need of gratuitous comfort.

The remains of my project, scarred forever:

Chewed & Tattered Bag

I swear the serger brought this on itself — that right needle was so asking for it:

Broken Needle

Here lie the guts of my project, torn from the gnashing teeth of the serger:

Project Entrails

What Is so Difficult About Getting a Warrant?

Tuesday, March 27th, 2007

Before I start this post, I feel it’s necessary to state that I do NOT love terrorists. I do NOT want the terrorists to win. I do NOT hate freedom. I do NOT lick Satan’s feet.

That said, I am frustrated over the government accessing information about U.S. citizens without getting warrants, especially citizens who are not under any sort of suspicion.

First there was the warrantless wiretapping scandal, and now FBI director Mueller is trying to convince the Senate that the FBI should keep all the lovely powers they received from the Patriot Act — this on the heels of the “national security letter” to-do. Read the details yourself in this article from the Associated Press.

The notion that we should change the nature of our government in response to terrorism turns my stomach. Where is the freedom in a society where innocent citizens can be investigated without oversight? Why on earth would anyone think this sort of power would not be abused? And what could we possibly gain that is worth switching our system from one of presumed innocence to presumed guilt?