Problem-solving skills.

With the coming of spring, genus douchebaggus teenus emerges. Driven by their fierce, hormonally-addled instincts, they seek to attract the female of the species in courtship display. Prime among their tools (heh) is the playing of loud music as they drive endlessly around the local blocks, windows open and bass rattling sternums for miles around.

(One of the only upsides I can see to ridiculous gas prices is the fact that maybe some of these assholes won't be able to cruise around all summer.)

This afternoon, I was sitting out on the front porch, watching a thunderstorm roll in and generally communing with nature as the kids played with sidewalk chalk. I passed a few words with a neighbor across the street, and then, roaring down the block, came a carload of bepimpled idiots, blasting Lil' Wayne's "Pop That Pussy" at  a volume best described as "planet-shatter."

As they made their second strafing round the block, I ran down to the sidewalk and started gyrating wildly. Ms. Reuben-Jeanne, my neighbor, immediately saw what was up, and did the same on her front walk.

Imagine: two very white, very middle-aged, slightly reubenesque moms shaking their asses, Shakira-style. We enthusiastically worked our mojo. It was when RJ (who is technically classified as a small planetoid) got down to the deep squat-pelvic-thrusts that the carload screeched to a halt and the boys, utter horror upon their faces, exclaimed:

Horrified teen: "Yo! What the fuck, man? Jesus Christ, what the fuck is wrong with you two?"

Me: "Dude, if you didn't want us to dance, you wouldn't have had your music up so high!"

RJ: "That's right, baybee! I hears that hot stuff and I gots to shake mah booty!" (With an extra jiggle and an ass-slap for emphasis.)

*silence, broken only by whimpering*

"Ma'am, would you like us to turn our music down a little bit?"

"Well, actually, a  lot. Some of those lyrics are a bit much for children. Plus, you're going to go deaf."

"We'll keep it down."

"Thanks.  Though the dancing is a Hell of a good workout."

Indispensible

Every parent needs to go out and buy this book.

Immediately.

"Go the Fuck to Sleep."

It's a real book, and it's hilarious.

Huh.

Dino posted a mini-rant on homeopathy and its utter lack of usefulness. I got to thinking about it, and...

I was going to make a comment on the fact that we've also become a style over substance society, hence all the Hope and Change we're experiencing...how we feeeeeeeel about things has become much more important than actual results.

As far as I am concerned, homeopathy is the Obama of scientific/medical world -- in the end, it's an empty bottle/suit that costs a shit-tonne and does absolutely nothing.

Edit: I'd point out that, also like homeopathy, it's easy to sell people a bill of goods based on appearance; a "blank screen on which people project their own views,*" if you will.  It looks good on the label, and promises to fix everything  but in fact does not treat things and makes them worse.


Trading big companies fucking people over (when you have legal recourse, no matter how convoluted) for big government fucking people over with impunity is not improving things for anyone. The Obamacare bill does not do anything but add several levels of bureaucratic bullshit. It does not improve access or quality of care, but it looks good on Dear Precedent's resume.

(A quote from "The Audacity of Bullshit," if I recall.) 

Generation Ass-bitten.

The anxiety on campus is palpable; a wet, heavy blanket you could wring sweat out of. Senior grades are being submitted directly after Easter, and Commencement practices have begun. Several hundred young people are about to spread their wings and fly out in to a "real life" world of jobs and responsibility. This is the moment they've anticipated for the last four years! Freedom! Independence! Disposable income! Unfettered adulthood, in all its fabulosity! All their lives, they've bought in to the fairy tale: Go to a good school get a degree, get a good job.

The problem? The economy and the job market can best be described as "shit on toast" -- if toast weren't so God damned expensive, and if you could afford to fill the gas tank on your beater to get to the store. And after you've started paying off those student loans.

On-campus interviewing for entry-level, corporate sweatshop jobs has been sparse. Campus Counseling has been overwhelmed with stressed and depressed seniors. The job boards are empty save for the paper-printed, tiled 'goatse' that some enterprising frat d00d  wallpaper-glued to the cork.

The upperclassmen fall in to one of two categories:

1. Drinking to self-medicate from the stress of having no job prospects lined up. They wander campus, mouths set in grim lines, and utter Poe-esque horror stories. They trade interview tips, power ties/accessories, networking links...to no avail. Even nepotism is failing them at this point. They are like dementors, sucking the hope and joy out of people who pass too close. The prospect of having to move back in with their parents and find a fast-food or Shore job terrifies them. The prospect of no job at all is unthinkable.
2. Drinking in one last burst of 'apres moi, le deluge' nihilism and enjoying the last few weeks of responsibility-free hedonism. Watching them party non-stop, 24/7 is like watching some grand guignol fin de siecle. They are manic in their pursuit of ass, grass or alcohol. It's exhausting to witness. Local pharmacies are out of rubbers, Quell and KY jelly. Noise violations and alcohol write-ups are through the roof, safety officers have permanent scowls and if housekeeping has to clean up one more puddle of Jaeger vomit or Rumpleminze-tinged piss, they will riot and stab people with their broken broom handles.

There's a lot of fear and anger evident. This is their trial by fire; their youthful idealism and optimism is being trumped by reality. There was a lot of enthusiasm for Hope and Change a couple of years ago, and now there's a lot of discontent at broken promises and dashed expectations. The competition of jobs is fierce, they are up against people with decades of experience, and most of them are as unprepared for rejection as they were when they graduated from high school.

I suspect my campus is not unique in atmosphere right now. I wish I had some tidbits of positivity to pass on to them, but I'm having a hard time seeing any silver linings in the gathering thunderheads. If the economy doesn't turn around soon, the hard rain that's going to fall is going to sweep a shitload away.

Field trip nonsense

I chaperoned SnarkGirl's field trip yesterday -- a walking tour of historic Philadelphia! We saw the Liberty Bell, Betsy Ross' house, the Old Christ Church and Franklin Court. The weather was chilly and gray, but the rain (mostly) held off. However, a few observations:

• What kind of frickin' dumb ass shows up to what was clearly labeled a WALKING tour in three-inch, platformed, spike-heeled, pointy-toed stilettos? "I just couldn't find anything else to go with my Lily Pulitzer!" I wanted to rip off her ridiculous shoes and stab her in the eye with them every time she complained about how much her feet hurt.
• Being in charge of several children who are not your own is exhausting, due to heightened situational awareness and hypervigilence. Strangers, street crossings, making sure they don't wander off...it is a lot like taking six goats to market without lead ropes.
• I should have hired a sherpa to help me buttle all of the girls' stuff, and they shed sweatshirts, jackets, lunches, cameras and souvenir bags constantly, and guess who got asked to hold it all?
• The standard Mom Kit -- first aid stuff, water, wipies, hand sanitizer, hair elastics, hard candies, gum, loose change and a good evil glare is indispensable.
• So is a bellow that will halt forty-seven little girls in their tracks.
• Merchants who festoon their window displays with trashy lingerie, sex toys and bondage accouterments should be forced to answer the questions that such displays will encourage from young girls on the cusp of puberty, and endure the ensuing shrieks of "Oh, that's GUH-ROOOOOSS!"
• Security at the Liberty Bell is ridiculous, the guards have no sense of humor, and I did not appreciate having a large woman in purple nitrile gloves fondling my personal regions and showing the world my C-section scar.
• I feel really, really naked and vulnerable wandering around Philly without my firearm. The historic zones are...unique in flavor, to say the least.

Most of the places we visited had large signs advertising the fact that they were firearm free zones, and no guns were permitted on the property. Ironic -- the cradle of liberty  pretty much ignores the amendment with God damned well guarantees liberty.

Wisdom.

That's just my ceremonial title.

The Real Political Spectrum Quiz Your Result: Blood-Sucking Conservative   You are Rosemary's baby and the Omen combined, the devil incarnate, the love-child of Darth Vader and Cruella De Vil. (No, this quiz does not have a liberal bias.)
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