Hawkins and Blow: Two Hats, One Head

Nobody’s Opinion: What does a poor 19-year old boy named Robbie Hawkins from Omaha, Nebraska, and a rich 48-year old fashion Icon of London named Isabella Blow have in common?

Well, it wasn’t the proclivity to wear funny hats.

They both, even though they grew up in different classes and on different continents, suffered from the same conditions: horrible bouts of depression, hopelessness, anger, and a great longing to “Be famous.”

They wanted out.

The only difference between these two lost souls is that Robbie took others along with him into his suicidal pain of escape, while Isabella just beat up on herself.

When a woman takes another life along with her in her insane moment of suicidal despair, it’s usually her own children. Men, on the other hand, seem to have no problem at all in taking as many lives as they can hit. It’s as if they figure---Hey, might as well be Rambo.

In both cases, innocent people get hurt.

While Robbie dressed up in hunting gear and went hunting with a SKS semi-automatic, Isabella just drank weed poisoning.

Isabella, well known Vogue icon in elite circles of fashion, made it to 48--- but not because she wanted to. She had tried to overdosed on sleeping pills, someone found her: jumped off a 30-foot pedestrian pass, but just broke her angles: tried to do a Virginia Woolf by filling her pockets with stones and walking into a river, but she kept floating: tried another couple of overdoses, with no luck: until her final decision of drinking weed poisoning, did the trick. And because she died more slowly, she had the time to design herself a wonderful funeral.

Isabella, like Robbie, wasn’t feeling too good about her chances in life. Like Robbie, she too had come from a broken home. She had become well known in the fashion world, and had quite a few successes as an eccentric who created very weird and funny hats. She helped many a multinational business make money. She found talent.

But she felt unappreciated. She kept getting…well, walked on.

It happens. Creative people very often have no sense of business.

Everyone who came in contact with both these people knew that something was not quite right, but had no clue what to do about it. After all, most people have to live their own lives…go to work, pay the bills, watch a movie---get sleep.

They don’t understand why anyone would even want to kill themselves, let alone kill other people. They don’t understand the difference between the usual “My Dad Just Passed Away and I’m not feeling too good” to the “I Hate Myself So Much---I’m So Worthless--- I’ve Just Got Do Something!”

Robbie had plenty of problems. Broken family, homeless, alcohol problems, girlfriend problems, and then the final insult--fired from McDonalds.

You can’t get much lower than that.

But so what you say? Lots of kids have these problems, and they don’t go around shooting up malls.

Most kids don’t have what they call “clinical depression.” That kind of genetic condition is much like being born with your father’s brown eyes. Mixed that with all of Robbie’s problems and you’ve got a ticking bomb.

Too many of our kids are on drugs, having promiscuous sex, cheating on tests, and drinking themselves into stupors on weekends. Maybe Robbie felt whatever crimes he committed was little in comparison to his peer group.

Before he slaughterd eight innocent people, he might have been right.

Also, watching multi-millionaire rappers getting rich by promoting “sex” and “violence” is not exactly helping the thousands of kids out there who are looking for some hope---especially if they are white poor kids from broken homes.

There is no affirmative action for them.

I’ve seen these kids all over my neighborhood. Only by the grace of God are some of them saved. Most of them have no clue that they have that extra “kicker” inside them. To admit depression you have to take responsibility for yourself, and in this world where even the adults are still children, the kids are left alone to figure that out themselves.

I’m sure Robbie never dreamed he was sick, unlike Isabella…who had had many a shock treatment.

Isabella described depression once: “It’s like when you get a sore throat and you know you’re going to get flu. You know it is coming, but you can’t do anything about it.”

And that's the problem isn't it? That's the problem.

Don't Talk PMS

Nobody Flashes Anymore: I just spent a whole day at the hospital watching young nurses trying to find my veins.

"Okay, I'll try your hand! There a few good veins there. I know that hurts...but it's in!"

Said after she got frustrated slapping my arm so many times I wanted to punch her...before the CT scan.

Then she "radiated" me with some shit to flow through my veins, handed me a bottle of water and said..."Better flush it quick." But I couldn't because I had to go to another test which I was late for because they wanted to check my blood tests to make sure they didn't blow out my kidney like they did my vein.

Yes, she blew out my vein, but blamed it on me. She said it was because I was making a fist, which she told me to do.

THEN I rushed to a test that was suppose to only take five minutes, but I think the guy doing the ultrasound just had too much fun running that little camera over and over my ..."heart."

He said he liked to watched the orange pictures.

It took over an hour.

All the time my bottle of water lay on the other table. My heart was jumping and jiving. Tonight I smell like leftover radiator fluid.

But the worst part was in the waiting room.

Four women, all at once, started complaining about their periods, and lack thereof...and then their sisters mensuration problems...describing in great detail every single period they ever had.

No wonder they banned it in the Bible.

So, I'm tired. I came home and cooked dinner, and my husband, trying to be a sweetheart, decides to do the dishes.

He forgets we cannot through food down our disposal. So, the sink clogs, and he gets a plunger and manages with sheer brute strength to bust a hole in the pipe, and flood the kitchen.

He is now somewhere driving in the sleet, looking for a replacement pipe.

All I can say is: Thank God men don't have periods, thank God tomorrow''s Friday, and thank God I don't have to go back anytime soon.

The Politics of Plunder

Nobody’s Opinion: It’s getting near Christmas, and I’ve got a book for your Christmas list:

I do this weird thing…whenever I get a book from the library; I use a pencil and mark up all the passages in the book I want to remember. Then I type those parts out and save them on a CD. Saves me money.

But once in a while, the book is so marked up, almost every paragraph has something marked and so I finally have to admit, I might as well buy it, because I would have to type the whole book out. (Don’t worry, I have a great eraser.)

And the book I plan on buying myself for Christmas is The Politics of Plunder: Misgovernment in Washington, by Doug Bandow.

No, it’s not on the best-sellers list. It’s not even a new book. It was published in 1990 and basically covers a lot of the Reagan era. Doug Bandow, the author, is a senior fellow at the Cato Institute and he served as special assistant to President Reagan.

And if you like to see some real statistics behind just where all your money goes, this book is for you.

Despite what you may think, he does not idolize Reagan. What he does do is give an accurate picture of the way the whole system is set up, so that even good men like Reagan, can’t put much of a dent in the corrupt system of “FED ME!"

Not only is Doug a man very found of our founders, but he explains in great detail, just where all the money goes, and how to correct the problems. And this was in 1984.

For instance, I had NO idea just how much the government subsidies our food. Okay, it’s one thing to know it, it’s quite another to read the statistics. The amount of money our government spends is never really reported.

God forbid we take Brad Pitt off the front page.

Here’s an example:

After spending more than $14 billion so far this decade to encourage dairymen to produce as much as they want, the government is now forcing taxpayers to contribute $1.1 billion, along with $700 million in producer assessments, to convince those same farmers to retire. The individual “termination” checks range up to $10 million: all told, 144 dairymen are receiving more than $1 million each to quit their farms.”

I really don’t remember reading about this in my local Sunday paper, do you? And the book is filled with these kinds of facts.

Here’s one of my favorites:

What about the basic right of taxpayers to keep their earnings? Why do dairy farmers, students, yacht owners, foreign politicians, corporate executives, and every other interest group in America have a higher claim to a person’s earnings than the worker himself?”

Exactly.

After reading only half of the book, there is no doubt that our country has been run at least in the food department, much like the Soviet system. We have a few BIG farms, (the little ones were wiped off the map) and billions go to these guys.

One year, the government kept 2 billion oranges off the market because of complaints from Sunkist—left to rot in the sun.

I guess the “free market” just applies when the big corporations can make big profits.

The book will make you think harder, about all the spending now.

I mean, we read about the “lost billions” that were suppose to go to the family’s from 9/11, and the "billions" that were just “mismanaged” in Katrina, and the “billions” that just disappear in Iraq…

They have gotten us use to government waste--- Ho-hum. What’s Brittany doing?

Anyway, as Doug says: People abuse power, it is human nature.

The book may be a little outdated, and you never even heard of it. But, it might just be one of the most educational books you will ever read on the United States Congressmen, and how much they love to plunder.

Of course, I don’t agree with everything he says…but how can you know the future, if you don’t know the past? You can’t.

And the past has been hidden, very well as you find out when you read this book.

The Politics of Plunder at least will make you feel like you got to be a little bird and sit in on the most powerful meetings of pork in Congress.

I might never eat pork again. So enjoy your turkey at your Christmas dinner, and at least check out this book sometime soon, before the next election.

It will make everything all that much clearer, but then again...you might want to just watch the football game.

In that case....I agree...you might be right.

The Smackdown of Red Lipstick

Notice: In this picture, I am the one with the red lipstick on...the other girl..beleive it or not, is not even related.

Nobody’s Opinion; I wear red lipstick. My mother wore red lipstick. Her mother wore pink lipstick and lots of face powder which she kept on her private bathroom’s vanity table.

My grandmother’s bathroom was magnificent. She kept the most wonderful smelling powders. I have glorious memories of sneaking into her bathroom when I was five, climbing up on her pink cushioned chair, looking at myself in her huge magical mirror, and carefully opening her colorful canisters of bath power and lipsticks.

I would deliciously float into a sensual Valhalla of womanhood. The smells of lilacs, roses, lavenders, and gardenias---it was as if the Garden of Eden was rushing up my nose.

It was heaven. It was innocence. It was timeless.

In the mirror, I would dare to put a dab of pink lipstick on. Someday I too would be “pretty” like my grandmother.

I would even put it on my cheeks, something I still do to this day.

I loved to sneak in and watch my grandmother’s morning ritual of “putting on her face.” My grandmother was a very beautiful woman without makeup, but with her powder and pink lipstick on, she became a goddess. In the world of horses, she would have been a Lipizzan. She could have walked the ivy-league parties of Boston and put them all to shame with her beauty. She always wore beautiful suits from the best department stores. She had big blue eyes, thin aristocratic lips, and she could have given the Queen herself lessons in how to stand and sit.

I wanted to grow up to be just like her---a grand lady.

Before I was born, the earth trembled with World Wars and bright red lipstick came into style. All the women wore it. The movie stars were never seen without pouted red lips.

Revlon wasn’t stupid. They knew that a little red lipstick could make even the homeliest woman appealing to a man who had been around a little too much death. The great capitalistic American makeup industry was born, which helped produce the baby boom.

The WWII women put on the red lipstick and went off to work. They got married and did not take off their red lipstick, which is why I suppose my mother wore red lipstick up until the day she had her stroke. It made her feel pretty.

Obviously, my mother must have sat in that same pink cushion chair, just like I did. The fine tradition if “putting your face on” was a family tradition. It was a loving gesture to not only ourselves but to the men we loved.

It may come as a surprise to compare, but I think the ritual of fathers buying their young sons their first guns or rifles is a good comparison.

These were timeless gifts of passage at one time in our society.

When I was growing up, makeup, yes, even red lipstick was NOT, let me repeat, not the mark of a whore. Mothers wore it everywhere.

Then along came Marilyn Monroe: A woman so voluptuous that Hugh Hefner launched a whole empire of porn off her naked body and red lipstick alone.

The innocence of womanhood was rearranged.

So, red lipstick became associated with the mark of an “easy” woman.” Makeup became the mark of a ‘slut.’ Pornography and prostitution was brought into mainstream America to stay.

The art of makeup was an art no more.

Now, not only is pornography one of America’s biggest grossing industries; it also creeps into almost everything we see and hear.

Just this morning I was glancing at a copy of Esquire. a magazine which used to have the finest writers, writers like Hemmingway. Now it seems obsessed with soft porn, and writers who, although think they’re very clever, read just like sixteen-year-olds making stupid adolescent remarks about their penises.

In Letters to the Editor, a man corrected another man on his love of the mons veneris, not the vulva.

So glad to clear that up.

Another short piece was written by a father who went through a $500 dollar, 30-pound Playboy book of old porn pictures with his seventeen-year-old son. He was so proud when his genius son made this comment on an old porn picture from the 1950’s:

“She’s not naked and she’s doing her nails. That’s stupid.”

Right---smart kid you’re raising there dad.

Then there was an article on the Attack of Marriage by Steven Alderman, a man wanting to legitimize polygamy…something that seems to be on the liberal agenda at the moment. This guy actually looked at women as not much more above the evolutionary level of a goat.

So what happened here? Did the whole pornification (as Laura Ingram calls it) of women as nothing but sex objects helped to fuel the ridiculous women’s revolution that followed?

This then caused a whole generation of men to backlash right back at them with, “Damn it, we like to look at all the skin. Forget the lipstick---just show us more tits and ass. After all, you took us to the cleaners.”

(Sigh)

Now, big lips are in. Our Marilyn Monroe is Angelia Jolie. She doesn’t need red lips, because she has her lips pumped up to ungodly proportions. She looks like she could suck the nipples off an elephant. And instead of a seven dollar lipstick, you now pay a plastic surgeon thousands.

But, here comes my big red lipstick smackdown, which cost me over a thousand dollars.

I have a product which I have had problems getting a prototype for. I had been corresponding with a man who said he could actually make me my prototype, and not only that, he would become partners with me in a start-up business. He would contribute his expertise.

Being as nobody in St. Louis had been able to make my prototype so far, I was pretty excited.

Patent drawings aside…when the cost of a mold for production can cost up to $50,000 dollars, I knew I needed to hold the prototype in my hand before I spent that kind of money. I needed to be with this man in his “lab” to feel the final product. He promised me that I would get to come to his house, and see what he had been working on.

I was planning on just an overnight trip, but he suggested I come for a convention he was going to be talking at near his home.

That should have been my first warning.

The other warning was he had seen my picture on my blog. He said he liked my red lipstick, and women didn’t wear it anymore. The man is 68, and married, so I figured it was just a simple observation. He presented himself as an intellectual…above that sort of thing.

That should have been my second warning.

He also said, since he knew I was going to be putting all the money into “our partnership” and was coming up to see him; he would foot the bill for my hotel.

Okay, stupid is too mild a word. Try “retarded slug.”

Of course, you can all guess what happened. I got up to Connecticut, waited around for three days in this “expensive” hotel he insisted I stay in, which I knew I couldn’t afford, that he kept assuring me he had already paid for…

And then, at a dinner in the lobby the last night I was there having waited patiently to go to his “lab”…he said:

“So, are we going to make love or not?” in a rather disgusted voice. He had no intention of making a prototype or a partnership. He lied.

He also didn’t get laid, therefore I got the bill.

I should have laid him out in the lobby for this horrible deception with a big kick in the groin, but unfortunately, I am my grandmother’s protégé.

How could I have been so stupid? Taking a man, who by all accounts had an excellent business reputation, at his word?

Has my habit of red lipstick caused an unbeknownst brain tumor?

I am fighting to NOT learn this lesson…that the days of most men respecting women are over. And this breakdown of respect for women has hurt our nation and our future.

And all these past wasted years of men and women hating each other, are just filling the coffers of liberal democratic politicians who get big cash contributions from divorce lawyers. Porn, hatred, and lack of respect is very good for business, not to mention the liberal agenda of state controlled mindless citizens.

In Saudi Arabia, millions of women are considered whores if they even show their face. But that doesn’t stop them from going to the local malls and buying the latest shade of Revlon red lipstick in the malls of Dubai to wear under their burke’s.

And me? I’m still in a red lipstick smackdown meltdown.

Nevertheless, I still wear red lipstick for the same reason that I wave the American Flag.

It’s a family tradition. Pass the silicone to Angelina Jolie.

Help Brad Pitt

Nobody Flashes Anymore: Brad Pitt is on a mission to rebuild New Orleans, and you can help.

He stated today, "You can adopt a tank less water heater, or a solar panel, or a tree, or a new low flush toilet." And send him the money.

I just love it when he talks dirty.

He says that instead of giving someone you love a sweater for Christmas, give them something they can always remember, like a Brad Pitt poster or a cow.

I am adopting this pole just because Brad is so sexy. It will keep the owners from buying a car, because they won't be able to park it in the garage.

I'm planning on giving the "car-saving" pole to our President, who looks like he could use a good pole to climb up right now.

Yes, not only is Brad Pitt a real hunk of a guy, he is also running his brain on solar energy. Someone help this poor guy out and donate him a new one.

Nobody Loves a Good Conspiracy

Nobody’s Opinion: Let me get this straight.

If you believe that JFK was actually killed by just one man with a lucky bullet that went five different directions, jumping from one man to the next, and over the front seat of a car…

If you believe that two gigantic buildings on 9/11 fell down in perfect symmetry in less time than it takes to cook a turkey; and the greatest nation on the earth, with the highest military and technology intelligence ever invented had no clue…

If you think it’s not even a little strange that a former United States President, a trained nuclear physicist, flew to South America to verify a communist dictator’s win in an election…

If you think that your President, members of Congress, top leaders of the world, and the top CEO’s of the fortune 500 companies, get together regularly in secret meetings all the time just for a friendly game of golf…

If you don’t think that it’s strange when a former Presidential cabinet member commits the high crime of stuffing national secrets down his socks and walking away, not even being afraid to admit it…

Nor is it a big deal when our President and all of the opposition party are silent on the whole affair…

If you think the reason that one-third of American’s obesity is due to our own gluttony for the first time in our population’s history, while a whole market of diet food and pills is making a few companies trillions…

If you read that America has plenty of its own oil that is never tapped because we actually don’t want to hurt a few herds of deer, therefore we fight for the oil of other countries…

If you think that the Muslims just started hating the West because we are imperialists…

If you don’t think it’s odd that news stations are now giving away vacation trips to Dubai…

Nothing usual about a President wanting to sell all our ports to the Saudi’s…

If you think that the Supreme Court erasing our Constitutional right to property by making it legal for vast corporations to take any individual’s property in the name of “taxes,” is actually…okay.

If you think that the flood of drugs and free sex in the sixties…well man, just happened…

If you think that teachers should teach our children about sex at the age of five…

If you thought that letting Terri Schiavo starve to death was a humane thing to do…

If you feel attracted to TV sitcoms where the main characters work in “service” jobs like Denny’s and Home Depot…

If the words “internationally accredited” on your local police car make you feel extra safe…

If you think that the vast network of globalists made up of certain bankers, politicians and CEO’s who are planning to Anglicized the world with a one world free market system under a vast network of un-representative government: a world that is trying to set up a North American Union in order to compete with the European Union…really doesn’t exist.

Then I envy you. You can actually sleep at night.

I can’t for the life of me believe, when there are trillions upon mega-trillions of dollars going into the hands of a very elite few, and when powerful men all over the world do not want to give up power…men like Putin, Chevez, and our own Clinton/Bush dynasties…

That people don’t get it.

I mean… really. What makes the Clintons any different than Putin? Or Chevez? Because they’re from America?

Shhhhh….the village conspiracy nut is talking.

Our founders would have laughed at our sheer ignorance in not seeing the circumstantiated evidence all around us. But then again, they were educated men.

Our Machiavellian Princes and Princesses are many, but few. They have gone to the best schools and they know how conceal their intentions. Like the wizards in Harry Potter, they make smoke screens, divide and conquer, keep everyone dependent, and change the whole world with the right words.

They play on our human hearts by mentioning “the children.” They rule with fear and guilt.

And there’s another conspiracy. To actually see the whole picture, you must be educated. The founders knew that only an educated people could hold on to democracy.

Therefore if you believe our schools are just bad due to…circumstances beyond our control, then I suggest you read a few more books, and join me, before the real conspiracy begins.