Friday stuff

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Until we get honest with ourselves about the mental health crisis in this country, we will have more and more incidents like this. At least then we could say that we tried to get people help as opposed to saying, “yeah, that guy was bonkers, what a shame.”

Yes I understand that he was only recently named and no one really knows why he did it, but sane people don’t walk into crowded lecture halls and open fire.

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Mayor Kwame Kilpatrick has until 5:00 p.m. to waste more money with an appeal he won’t get. Release the documents and get it over with. Everyone knows you’re guilty, everyone know about the party you swear you never had, and everyone knows you and your thugs had something to do with Strawberry’s death. It’s been interesting how the media’s been using “stripper” less and less and “exotic dancer” wih a lovely picture of Tamara Green more and more. And people claim words have no power.

In other news, Matt Allen, accused wife beater extraordinaire and clearly a close personal friend of Mayor McThug, had a brand spanking new job created for him with money the City doesn’t have as a “producer”, which everyone knows is a position where the person in question does absolutely nothing but show up for work every once in a while and get in the way.

Seriously, if you have a marker to call in with the mayor, you’d get it now while the getting’s good. There seems to be a wholesale close-out on the City’s finances so get in line with your hand out.

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There seems to be twenty people living in the house next door to mine, which means there are more cars than legal parking spaces. I would welcome them parked on the lawn positioned like sculpture on concrete blocks as opposed to blocking my driveway. I’ve taken great pains to carefully maneuver around chunks of snow and ice to not hit someone’s Ford Escort POS, figuring that the lady in question either had a lot on her mind or is perhaps a little slow. I hate to sound uppity (but you know it’s coming) yet the more I meet my neighbors, the more I think that secondary education (and here I’m thinking anything past the Fifth Grade) was one of them optional things, like painting over the primer on that 67 Tempest.

Except that it takes two seconds and not even a smidge of math to figure out you might be blocking someone’s driveway, and you’d think it made more sense to block the driveway of the home she lives in instead of the home most likely to call the cops to have her ticketed and then towed. D put a note on her windshield this morning which simply states, “You’ve Got To Park Clear Of My Driveway. Thanks.” It’s straightforward and to the point, assuming she can read, but the words are small and she should be able to sound the big ones out okay. I’m already working out scenarios in my head as to how she might react. I’m thinking confusion as to who left the note as D neglected to sign it, however we’re making the assumption she can put two and two together and not come up with B) A Dog.

I can already hear her complaints and I already have her answers, and they all boil down to the same thing: if you do not think you can park there without blocking a driveway (mine or yours) then it’s not a legal spot. Period.

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I have been watching Doctor Who (a movie wth #7 and #8 and the series starting with #9), and and Farscape (about halfway into Season 2), courtesy of RJ (“Voyage of the Damned” and Time Crash” courtesy of Davecat), and will soon have Torchwood. Took a bit of time for #9 to grow on me, but he finally did. However I’m really more of a #10 girl. I forget why I’m getting the accelerated course on Doctor Who but I do not object. Now to find something to kill time while I wait for my next episodes.

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Back to some watching and writing.