The Monthly Cycle

If you're expecting a post about menstruation, you are going to be vastly disappointed. The world has become too liberal with talk of personal body habits and happenings. I am not one of those people who feel the need to expound on every motion, illness, ache, or passing of air that my body incurs. No, dear readers, I speak today of the other monthly cycle. The utility bill. Every month I get a vast array of providers demanding money for the often shoddy service each supplies. Cable, phone, electric, natural gas. Oh yes, they all want their due for dropped calls, interrupted internet, power outages, and hiccups. I understand imperfection, for I myself am full of such. But what I do not understand is the bitter exchange of false hope that manufacturers and suppliers sell to us. All of us. Walk with me down the vicious cycle a moment. Your dryer took a shit. It happens. We know anything built in this modern day by China or India is going to break sooner rather than later. You head off to Lowe's or Home Depot or wherever to purchase a new dryer. The new ones are all fancy with their singing switches and wrinkle releasing auto starts. But what really draws you is that lovely star on the front with it's magical money saving glittery trail of ka-ching. Energy Efficient it boasts. Could save you $600 annually on your electric bill it falsely promises. The dryer is $1200. Please note: this product now costs more than my first car and will likely last half as long. $1200 for the dryer. It hopes to save you $600 on your electric bill every year (fine print warning: note it suggests how much laundry one does to save that money. Three 12 pound loads per week. If I only did 3 loads per week, I would probably save $2500 per year on my electric bill). Ok, fine. Let's pretend we do only 3 12 pound loads per week to save us $600 per year. Grab your calculators, folks. We will save $50 per month. $50. Ok, that's a trip to Wendy's we can now afford because of the magic dryer with its spell casting ka-ching star on the front. Here's what they didn't tell you. Electric Company no longer has to provide you with 110 kilowatt hours of electricity because of your magic dryer. You're only using 100 per month. At $.13 per kilowatt hour they just lost $1.30 that month from you. $1.30. That's $15.60 per year they lost on you. No, it's not that much. That's barely a T-bone steak at the Road House. Who would miss $15 a year? No one, right? Besides, they're getting you with a $35 per month delivery fee (I have never seen an electric delivery man. I think we're getting shafted here). Now let's say 12,000 of Electric Company's customers have same said fancy magic ka-ching dryer. $187,200 per year Electric company just lost. That's the CEO's salary. Gone. So your magic dryer is now going to result in one of two things; Either the employees of Electric Company taking a voluntary pay cut (yeah, right) or Electric Company must start charging more per kilowatt hour to compensate for the loss. We said they charge you $.13 per kilowatt hour right? This month, you got your regular bill with a notice informing you that due to blah blah blah operating costs, the service charge will be raised to $.20 per kilowatt hour plus a delivery fee hike of just 10%. Know why they say 10%? Because it sounds less scary than $3.50 more per month. That's on top of the $35 dollar delivery charge you're already paying. Ok, so $3.50 more per month for delivery and $.07 more per hour of electricity used. Oh, that's not so bad right? Break it down yearly, my friend. Your original, pre-magic dryer bill was $171 per year (110 kwh x $.13/hour. Let's keep it simple, people. My writing skills far out exceed my math skills. Have you read my posts? I suck at writing. Now consider how bad my math skills must be) plus your $35/month delivery fee. That's $591 per year. Your new, magic dryer bill shows 100 kwh @ $0.13 per hour which dropped you down to $156 per year if all numbers stayed static for 12 month. Plus your $35 delivery fee, so $576 per year. YAY! But they didn't stay static, did they? Electric Company needs to compensate for 12,000 magic dryers. Your new bill is 100 kwh @ $0.20/hour plus $3.50 more per month to deliver it making your annual cost making your new magic dryer bill $702 per annum! What the hell happened to saving $600 a year?!?! The manufacturer's of our lives LIED!! And I just lost my single combo, no onions, from Wendy's! See, they produce these things knowing full well the ramifications of them. And not only did they screw us on the magic dryer and its energy efficiency (time to really mind-screw you), they screwed you on the actual cost of the dryer, itself. You paid $1200 for it, right? Parts and assembly only cost Dryer Maker $200. Know why? Because some guy in Detroit lost his dryer making job 10 years ago because it was cheaper to make the dryer in India. The savings of outsourcing weren't passed on to we, the consumer. It was absorbed by the Dryer Maker. 10 years ago it cost him $400 to make the 'sell for' $800 dryer. But, then he discovered that he could make his $400 dryer in India for $200 but charge $1200 for it. People, we're really getting screwed here. We're getting screwed for convenience. For popularity. And it's on all ends. Dryers, cars, food, clothes, houses, cupcakes, toys, and batteries. Why are we rolling over, believing magic stars and allowing the rich to get richer? I don't know how to end this rant. As mentioned, my writing skills are sub-par. Perhaps I'll allow you, dear reader, to close this for me. Thoughts?

A Matter of Trust

Hello, my dear readers. I'm sorry I stayed away for so long, but life throws us hurdles with unbridled passion and so I am left jumping, moment to moment, day to day. But, today is a good day. By this, I mean the young ones are at school and the infant sleeps. Let us expound of theory, of philosophy, of theology. Or, we could just talk about how fucked up the world has gotten. Surely I haven't the time to list each way; every pimple of society in the broad span of an infant's nap. We shall narrow it. Today, I bring you the idea of trust. Millions and millions of consumers world wide exhibit trust of their lives to foreign and domestic producers. What do I mean by this? I would like to take you, dear reader, through my average day of trust. One day, and how many people, companies, countries and entities I allow to dangle my life from their product making marionette strings. I allow myself a shallow night's sleep and awake to the sounds of Zombie Baby growling from his crib. Simply put, in the ten or so steps to his baby cage I have already risked my life in the short jaunt across the room. See, I have no idea who built my house back in 1871. Granted, I put more faith in the builders of the 19th century than those of this 21st, but still.... How long until that floor board gives out? Has that nail rusted from the leak in 1978? Did the tornado of 2011 do unseen damage? As I pull him from his sleep station I sigh in relief that he made it through the night. This is a constant worry of mine. Life is fragile, you know. So I traverse more man built house containing flaw to our kitchen, down 15 stairs that I trust my life to 17 or 18 times a day, and into the arena of HOLY SHIT. Gas stoves, electrical appliances next to water sources. A Pitt Bull. Demon cat. All these dangers. And I haven't mentioned the biggest yet. The jar on the counter. The jar of baby formula. The product I allow Zombie Baby to ingest up to 8 times a day. The jar of formula. The bottle manufacturer. The nipple manufacturer. And the folks that sell sterile water. 4 little items mean the difference of life and death to Zombie Baby. Who made them? How many people touched these products before they got to our home? How many trucks, boats, trains, and planes have they traveled on? How old are they? What cancer causing agents are the canisters made of? And how many impurities are in the cream colored powder, itself? I have just spent the first 9 minutes of my day putting the life of Zombie Baby into the hands of people who don't care about him. Migrant workers. The sick. People who may want him dead because he's white, or atheist, or new, or just based on the geographical location of his birth. People who don't care who dies as long as they make a buck. Let's move on. I take a shower as Zombie baby naps in the crib manufactured by who only knows with whatever material they produce. I chemically enhance my hair, trusting the manufacturers of Pantene to my being clean. The makers of Tone to my skin. The people of my township and their bungling of the water supply. Lotion, make-up, Gillete razors, and the guys that assembled my poofy scrubber. The people who thread the bath towels. The painters of my vanity mirror. The panty liner people. All this trust in one 15 minute process. A shower. A basic human necessity- to be clean- comes down to about 5000 different chemicals and 5000 different people to achieve. We move to my own breakfast. Who made my coffee? Who mixed the French vanilla creamer? How was the damn mug made and with what? Did my dishwasher make matters worse with its toxic cleaners? The box of dish detergent itself says "harmful if swallowed" but I'm spraying all of my eating ware with it? Trusting the "rinse cycle" to remove every ounce of possible harm? One hour of my day has produced this many risks thus far. And it's not even 9 a.m. Let's take a drive, shall we? Let's put Zombie Baby in a car seat that has already been in at least one accident at the manufacturer's plant. We'll trust Chevy, a good ol' American company that outsources their entire product line to a cheaper, more profit making country, with that already purposefully damaged car seat housing my future in it, and drive 12 miles to the nearest Wal-Mart. 12 miles. And 12,000 opportunities to die. Semi-trucks with 18 tires ready to shred. Deer. Bear. Dogs. All very real threats. The little Mitsubishi whose driver just HAS to get to work on time. Even though he hates his job, he's willing to die for it, and he's willing to kill me and Zombie Baby to get there punctually. The state workers who paved the road and didn't think anybody would notice that gaping hole in the left lane. Who cares who hits it and blows out a tire, a tie rod, a CV joint and crashes their car? They don't. They got paid, that's all that matters. We're going to grocery shop and buy food that was brought to the store by who knows who from who knows where. And we're buying it with the sole intention of ingesting it. Produce, we're told is so good for us, that contains more chemicals to make it LOOK good, than to actually BE good. Sprayed with man-made toxins to kill the bugs. To make the apples redder. To make the peas greener. To make it only seem appealing. Like the woman with large, fake, silicone breasts and 8 pounds of make up who looks great, but has herpes. Manufacturers have clearly played on our need for visual appeal, as opposed to the need to actually live and be healthy. And we've let them do this. Medications: enough said. We have bought a week's worth of risk, and now must travel the same semi-truck tire shredding, Mitsubishi weaving, bridge failing, pothole filled high-way back to the flawed, rusty, rotting home in our built by the lowest bidder Chevy truck. It's not even noon at this point and I have have risked my entire family's lives 10,000 times. I haven't even gone on to mention the variables; Comets, satellites, tornadoes, cell phones, pollution, bacteria, random car with failed brakes who has just smashed into my front door, fire, flood, or snow storm. The chemicals I clean my house with. Our clothing. The very Earth beneath our feet. Some things I can't control. Some things I can. Some things the authorities have taken away the choice to be able to. The entire purpose of this article was awareness. Be aware of how much trust you put into "them" every. single. day. And if you decide you want to bungee jump- remember; every bite of processed meat you take offers more risk to your life than the rubber band around your ankles. Carpe Diem, my friend.

Gas Pedal is on the Right

I have a big truck. A 2 ton, gas-guzzling beast of a thing with 8 cylinders and a pansy ass horn for it's size. It's a burgundy truck; No camouflage markings on it of any kind- therefore, the only thing it would blend in with is a bloody crime scene.
I have 8 lights on the front of my truck. My regular headlamps, my high-beams, my running lights and my fog lamps. 2 out of 4 sets of lights are on at any given time. No where on my truck exists any insignia, advertisements (save the Chevy logo) or even a bug shield for that matter.
I describe my truck to you because I want you to draw a mental picture of it driving toward you at a high rate of speed. Can you see it? Big, isn't it?
Fully insured, too.
So I ask, do you think me and my truck being a full 20 feet away from you moving at 65 miles per hour is a good time to pull out of a street/your driveway?
No? Then why does this happen 72 times a day?
I take this time and space to educate you on how to drive. It seems your 5 hour course has escaped your memory. Let's refresh:


This is a Stop Sign. Say it with me: Stop Sign. It means STOP. Now the trick to this sign is that once you have stopped and checked for on-coming or crossing traffic- you can go again. Granted, I agree this sign should be changed to "Pause for Safety" but until that happens just remember this: Stop, look, clear, NOW FUCKING GO. This sign does not mean stop, check your make-up, send a text, change the radio station, masturbate, pick your nose, then go when the person behind you honks. Let's review: Stop, Look, Clear, NOW FUCKING GO. That easy. Pay attention, though; there will be a test on this.
Our second lesson brings us to speed limits:
This is a speed limit sign

This is how fast you can and should go. We know you have no where else better to be, but we BEHIND YOU do. You can tell you are not doing the speed limit when you have a line of cars behind you doing the NASCAR pace motions. We are just itching to get by your 25 mile per hour ass. Please pull over and let us by before we are forced to pass you~~ endangering both yours, mine, and some poor schlubb's life who just happened to be in the other lane.
While we're on the subject of speed limit, let me introduce you to the state route sign.


This is an average state route sign. They are generally black and white and have some amount of numbers in them. THIS SIGN TELLS WHERE YOU ARE, NOT HOW FAST YOU SHOULD GO. Please bear this in mind as the NASCAR pace motions line up behind you, again. In the event of such a mistake, please see directions for Speed Limit Sign.

Sticking with motion, let's review the common brake and gas pedal

.............. STOP..................................GO
See how this works? The long up/down pedal make car go.
The wide left/right pedal make car stop.
The one on the right- go
The one on the left (now look at your hands and make an "L" with your thumb and first finger. That's your LEFT HAND) stop.
Oh, and one final thing:


If a car is parked on your side of the street, YOU MUST WAIT BEHIND IT UNTIL ONCOMING TRAFFIC CLEARS. Does this make sense? This is how the majority of side-street head-on collisions occur. Because some impatient asshole forgot he does not have the right of way. Well, let me remind you with both tons of my truck and all 8 of its cylinders. If you're looking to play chicken with me in your little mini-cooper, YOU WILL LOSE.

I would also like to offer some general advice:
If you can't see over the steering wheel, get off the road.
If you can't reach the brake and/or gas pedal, get off the road.
If you cannot distinguish red from green, get of the road.
If you have ever confused the brake pedal for the gas pedal, get off the road.
If you feel compelled to fuck everyone else over because you need wind in your hair and must do 110 mph to get to the red light; get off the road, then shoot yourself.
If you feel you don't have to use your turn signal because it is not the business of others where you are going, get over it and then get off the road.
If you are drunk, get off the road and pass out somewhere. Better yet, call me and I'll help you finish the case. But we'll drink it OFF THE ROAD.
And finally:
If you drive a mini-cooper, get off the road. You just look ridiculous.

Where has all the respect gone?

So, I am driving home today and happen to stop at the light on 67 waiting to turn left onto Camby Rd.  I notice a lot of flashing lights headed my way and think, "Wow, there must really be something going on".  So, I already know that I am not moving, even if the light for me turns green before they get to the intersection.  But, I notice that they are moving rather slow.  A police car comes into the intersection to block traffic, then I notice that it is a funeral procession.  I am not sure who the procession for, but by the many fire trucks included in this particular procession, it tells me that this person had a part in the fire department.  Then, the light for the south bound traffic turns green.  The people at the line continue to wait.....which, out of respect, I was always taught that you do.  You stop when you see a funeral procession.  Does not matter if you are going in the opposite direction or not.  And, you do not pass a funeral procession.  So, while watching the procession pass while I sit still waiting to make my turn.  I see that I am going to be there awhile because I can barely see the fire truck that is at the back end of the procession.  I start to hear the impatience coming from the drivers waiting at the light that has now turned green.  Mind you, the police car is still sitting in the intersection with his siren blaring.  I hear the drivers hitting their horns, not out of respect, on the contrary.  They wanted those that were sitting at the green light to move.  I sat and watched at least 40 drivers continue on their way as the procession still passed through the opposite side of the intersection.

It made me very sad.  Not for the person being taken to their final resting place, but for those that decided they could not stop and wait for 5 minutes to let this procession pass peacefully.  For those that found their day more important to continue on when the person in that casket can no longer kiss their family good night.  I am sad that I am trying to teach my children that when they start driving, they will pull over and let a procession pass, only to get the bird flown at them by someone who does not realize what they are stopping for.

I still made it home, maybe a few minutes later than I would have, but I am home.  I still walked in the door and had my children open their arms and greet me with their smiles and kisses.  Even though I stopped and waited for the funeral procession to pass, my day continued.  

Would it kill the rest of you to stop and pause for a few minutes to let a procession pass you?  Think about that the next time you see a funeral procession.

Just last month, we buried my grandmother.  While riding to the cemetery, I saw only a few cars stop and pause while we passed.  I also saw a few that decided they would pass us in the right lane, just to turn into the fast food joint, or the shopping center along the way.  Was that taco so important that it could not wait another five minutes?  Was that sale going to end before you made it to Kohl's?  No, it wasn't.  You disrespected my family, my grandmother, simply by driving by the hearse to get to your sale and fast food.

On the same note, however, there were people that stopped...a few.  And, those few that did stop, they made us smile.  I smiled because I knew that all hope was not lost.  That there are still a few people out there with some respect for the dead that they would stop and block a lane on a highway just for a few minutes.

So, this brings my little rant to a close.  I hope that you will all take a moment to pause the next time you see a funeral, even one that is heading in the opposite direction.  And, for those of you that did not take anything that I just took the time to type out to heart.....FUCK YOU!

Don't cry over spilled milk

I was watching the news this morning; an event I rarely partake in. I was amused to hear that a semi-truck full of milk had spilled all over an on-ramp to the highway. The driver had minor injuries, and fortunately, didn't shed a single tear.
The next item on the news was about 'good cholesterol' and new studies showing that it may not be so good for people after all. The odd thing about this is that medications
have been prescribed to 'up' good cholesterol in people who apparently had low levels of this chemical. Medication was prescribed for a condition that was never thoroughly studied. This is a frequent and frightening scenario in these United States. Ever watch those anti-depressant commercials? "This drug is thought to increase this happy feeling".. "No one knows how this drug works but..." ... Sign me up for that one. I love popping pills that no one knows how they work, or why they should be prescribed, or even the long term effects of ingesting them. Gotta love this country.
Then we moved on in the news to the uproar over gay politicians. Look folks, you all know I'm agnostic. I don't know what the hell is out there. God, aliens, chance, circumstance. Who knows. But like the medications, those who are opposed to gay anything are thought to have a moral compass even though they don't really know how the universe works yet. Basing your morality on something that has never been proven or even seen for that matter is like taking the Utopia pill that is only thought to control depression even though no one knows how it works.
My advice to all the bible beaters who hold on to a notion of 'maybe' is to move on and get over it. Because someone is practicing, participating or otherwise being something you don't agree with doesn't make them wrong, weird, freaks or anything else. It doesn't make you wrong, either. It makes us all DIFFERENT. I have gone over the 'different' position before. Who gives a fuck really? How is their life really affecting yours? Is my friend being gay really having an impact on whether your belief system allows you to go to your heaven? No, it's not. Therefore, it's not really your concern. You have not been charged with "saving" anyone and all your signs that say "God Hates Fags" are erroneous. You don't even know for sure if there is a God, no matter how much faith you have, to be able to convey who he hates. And, if 5 years of going to catholic classes allows me to recall: Your God is love, therefore it's oppositionally inaccurate to assume he hates fags. Truly I say to you, first, discover if your God actually exists... Then you can ask him who he hates.
Ok,
Rant over
Ragi out.