Pfunksfoolosophy

In truth, I only knew one personally; I wrote to one of them and he was killed in action. I wrote about it earlier. This is a sobering number. ONE is a sobering number. War makes absolutely no sense to me. Perhaps that’s why we have so many reality shows to take our minds off of the lives lost every damned day. Yikes.

The other person was a friend of a friend and he enlisted because he had few options. He liked the Marines and he was a good soldier. He was also sweet, funny, messed up and talented. I’m not knocking the military–my dad was a drill sargeant in the Army. Fort Riley Kansas, the home of THE BIG RED ONE, baby! He served in Korea. We’ve had someone serve in just about every conflict since forever. But you know, I just don’t understand how killing someone makes your viewpoint correct.

We teach our children to resolve conflicts without using violence, yet we rush to make war on others. What are we solving? What are we RESOLVING? Nothing. I don’t want to see my brothers and sisters, sons and daughters perish because of a pissing match that got out of control. Understand that I am well aware that when you enlist in the armed forces, chances are you’re gonna see some combat. That’s not my issue. My issue is that this war, like all the rest, makes no friggin’ sense.

Stop it, already.
You wanna solve a problem? Get your best Parchesi, Yahtzee, Poker, Connect Four–you name it–players and pit ‘em against ours. Done and done.

My pals are in heaven nodding their heads, sayin’ “Pfunk, you are so  right. Put me back in the game.”
I wish I could.

Why did I watch the marathon? Why? Am I finally that mindless that I have to rehash something that didn’t interest me until I met a couple of the contestants and wanted to know  what the hubbub was?
Man, I’ve gotta tell ya, going out of doors is a good thing. I’ve seen every episode and still have no idea what makes a good photo. Nigel, the poor sod…while a goodlooking man, kills me. If personality were apples, well…we’d not have pies a-plenty. His wife is quite lovely and they should use her more often. Nigel just rubs me the wrong way. I think it’s the teeth. The teeth, mama. I’m no trip to Hawaii, but put ‘em away, man!

The chatter about the body positions, the open squint (can that be possible?), Miss J–a word about that one–I don’t care if you’re a gay man, you’re a man. I’m not gonna call ya ‘Miss’. Hate to break it to ya, J–until you’ve experienced your menses, I don’t wanna hear you call yourself ‘Miss’. Get over it. You don’t see a bunch of lesbians calling one another ‘Mister Sharon’. Stop it. It’s not cute.

Tyra’s not as annoying as Heidi Klum is on ‘Project Runway’, but if I hear ‘continue on’ one more freakin’ time, there is gonna be war. Just say continue. It’s okay. Love ya, but let’s move it along. My brain hurts.
Twiggy is probably the only one who just does her thing and gets over it.

Eh. I am sure that modeling is tough. Goodness knows I don’t have the stomach for it.  Nor the physique. Dude, they’re nuts.
Now on to my suggestions to spice it up:

1. Have a ‘house mother’ who is there to check the girls. This is required. She will make  them read literature. She will correct their grammar. She will require them to chew with their mouths closed. She will be a heavy drinker. She may wake them up on random evenings  in a drunken rage dressed as Joan Crawford. 

2. No calls to the boyfriends. It’s boring.

3. If there’s a cat fight, please don’t prolong it. Tell them all to shut up.

4. Help us understand why we should care about someone’s hands being stiff.

5. Prohibit Miss J from wearing that long tee shirt and heels. At the very least, make him wear hose.

6. Jay Manuel. Make him stop wearing lip gloss and bleaching his hair. I’d like to see him as a redhead. That’s just me.

7. Nigel. Seriously, get that stick outta your arse. Take a good hard look at those choppers of yours. Appreciate your wife a whole lot more. She’s gotta kiss that mouth.

(by the way, bring your Mom back–she rocks)

8. Tyra needs to stop saying ‘continue on’. Stop it. Bring your Mom along. She’s cool.

9. Make the models promise not to crab about their makeovers. Make them sign a waiver. The  show’s been on how long? Get over it. Quit yer bitchin’.

10. Guest judges from the real world. Matter of fact, have one of the past contestants come in.

Okay, that’s it.

There will be a 12 step program for me. I made the time to blog about this. There is an intervention in my future.

Larry King creeps me out for a number of reasons, but the main thing is this: He lacks tact. While I am not some kind of huge Marie Osmond fan, I like to think of her as the sister I never wanted. She’s been a part of my life for a long time and I feel sorta protective of a woman who tells corny jokes AND laughs at them. I had a friend who worked with her brother Donny when he was in “Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dream Coat” and was  told that Donny was a stand up guy. I dig that. No diva moments. Cool…and while we’re at it, Marie is kickin’ butt on “Dancing with the Stars”…so when Larry dropped the ‘So, your son is in rehab’ business, I wanted to pimp slap him. It’s really none of our business.

I think she’s got enough going on without Larry King just throwing it out there. Sure, as a celebrity you give up your right to privacy–to a point. It would have been nice if he had asked her if she wanted to discuss that prior to air time. I only saw a clip of it and the look on her face said it all. Since I’m pretty sure she would never say the ‘f’ word, she still had that ‘WTF?’ look on her face. I wouldn’t have blamed her for saying “WTF?”–matter of fact, I would go right out and buy a copy of “Paper Roses” and play it in her honor.

Larry, I just don’t get you, man. Tact. Get some.

Marie, if you happen onto this blog, know that my kid thinks you’re pretty groovy with the corny jokes. You can adopt her. You’ll have more controversy. You’ll also be an instant grandma. Let me know what you want to do about visitation rights. AND keep your chin up. I’m sending you chocolate. It helps.

Larry King…oy.
Thus ends my rambling rant.

As many of you may remember, my pal Angie had a blog called Plus 1. Due to the inconceivably crazy and misguided assessment of the owner of the ‘host’ if you will, Angie no longer has that blog. She was supposed to get it back well over a month ago. How does this impact you? It doesn’t directly impact you, but it speaks volumes about people. People and their insecurities, their inability to communicate and finally their downright tackiness.

This individual saw fit to suspend Angie’s blog ‘for two weeks’, but if you go over there, the message says that the USER decided to remove their blog. That is a fabrication, my friends. It is a complete and utter LIE. So, it seems that it’s not cool to medicate your child (the cause of all of the uproar was a dose of Benadryl, which was prescribed) but it’s perfectly all right to lie about what actually transpired. I’m really not one to pass judgement, but this is completely wrong. There is no way that this person can defend herself regarding the situation because lying is never cool.

So, please…if you go to rainbow of words now…stop. I am calling for a boycott.

I don’t care how it impacts my blog. It is about the principle of the situation. Why wasn’t my friend contacted–like anyone with a modicum of intellect would have done, and asked to remove the offending post? Why was she told that her account would be suspended for two weeks and find out that her blog is still inaccessible, with the message for all to see that her blog was removed PER HER OWN DECISION, when it wasn’t her decision, but that of the ‘offended’?
People, what the heck are we doing? It’s a freakin’ blog for crying out loud. It’s also a blog that was making a profit. Maybe that’s the root of it. Maybe if you remove any competition, because goodness knows that there isn’t enough for everyone, the internet is finite, (please…) there will be MORE for the owner of Rainbow of words.

Waste of skin is a phrase that comes to mind. BUT, the karmic wheel turns in all ways—all ways. Hmm…

Go see what I’m talking about. I’ll not name names. I think I’ve said enough.

If you’re as peeved as I am…do something. Don’t support Rainbow of words.

This story is killing me and I’m quite surprised I’ve not blogged about it until now.

There’s a small town in Louisiana called Jena. In this small community, on a small high school campus there were some students. One of the students, a black kid, asked the principal if he could sit in the shade under a tree that was commonly used by the white students. The year? 2006. He ASKED PERMISSION TO SIT UNDER A TREE.

The town is segregated. Still, the principal told the student that he could sit where he liked, so the student enjoyed the shade that day with his friends. The next day there were three nooses hanging from it–school colors, mind you. The principal recommended expulsion but the superintendent overruled that saying that it was just ‘a youthful stunt’.

Yeah, a stunt that smacked of images of the Klan, a very real presence in the U.S. even in the northeast. Connecticut has a huge presence there. Betcha didn’t know that.

Well, the black students organized a sit in-right under that same tree. The ‘white’ tree. As you can imagine, racial tensions were high.  In December of that year, a white student who had allegedly been taunting some black students got into a fight. He was defending the hilarious hijinx of his white classmates. He was subsequently taken to the hospital and treated for his injuries and released that same day. It’s reported that he attended a social gathering that evening.

Here’s the good part: six black students were charged with attempted second degree murder. That’s right. This was no ‘youthful stunt’. This was a murderous rage exhibited by savages. Yep. Murder.

They were expelled from school. The six kids charged were: 17-year-old Robert Bailey Junior.Bail: $138,000; 17-year-old Theo Shaw - bail $130,000; 18-year-old Carwin Jones–bail $100,000; 17-year-old Bryant Purvis–bail $70,000; 16 year old Mychal Bell, a sophomore in high school who was charged as an ADULT,mind you and for whom bail was set at $90,000.

Oh, it gets better: (this bit is from the NAACP website article)

“On the morning of the trial, the District Attorney reduced the charges from attempted second degree murder to second degree aggravated battery and conspiracy. Aggravated battery in Louisiana law demands the attack be with a dangerous weapon. The prosecutor was allowed to argue to the jury that the tennis shoes worn by Bell could be considered a dangerous weapon.

When the pool of potential jurors was summoned, fifty people appeared, all white. The jury deliberated for less than three hours and found Mychal Bell guilty on the maximum possible charges of aggravated second degree battery and conspiracy. He originally faced a maximum of 22 years in prison.

On September 4, 2007, the District Court granted Bell’s Motion in Arrest of Judgement as to the Conspiracy charge. Now, Bell faces a maximum of 15 years in jail, instead of 22 years. The rest of the Jena 6 await similar trials. Theodore Shaw and Carwin Jones are scheduled for trial on January 28, 2007. Mychal Bell is scheduled to be sentenced on September 20, 2007.”

Unbelievable, isn’t it? In this day and age.

That a kid had to ask permission to sit under a tree. That the kids who hung three nooses were just given  a slap on the wrist. That now, six kids will be railroaded just like the Scotsboro boys. Unbelievable. And here we are, watching the VMAs, commenting on Britney’s horrible performance.

Here we are, complaining about our lives. Here we are. Doing absofuckinglutely NOTHING.

I’m steamed, people. Those young men are YOUR sons, brothers, nephews. I don’t want that strange fruit hanging from any tree. Please sign the petition.

Please show that you have some humanity left at long last.

http://www.naacp.org/get-involved/activism/alerts/110aa-2007-7-20/index.htm