Political Nutrition

Look. Noone wants to be middle aged, old, graying, flabbing, wrinkling or even remotely considered too old to understand. But there it is. Deal with it. And please, can you not use the following words on your Facebook status? Dude. Awesome. Posse. Homies. Peeps. Sweet. The 411. We tell our children to act their age not their shoe size. We tell our children sit up don't slouch. And we tell our children to speak clearly so we can understand them. And then you log into facebook and are confronted with your dear friend Roland, using the moniker  "Rollin Wid it" and a photo with his face in the shadows, sideways baseball cap and a shirt with *$&^# on the front. Looking like such a badass. His status says "Hey peeps...ketch me on the cell...we'll do it up..." Roland dear Roland. High School Valedictorian, Summa Cum Laude, CEO of Fortune 500 company, father of 3 who doesn't let his kids friend him on facebook. I once asked politely just ...

So it seems the great earthquake that was to Rock New Zealand at 6pm on May 21st didn't. Christmas Island is spared. And most likely so are we. Camping isn't the first to give us erroneous headlines. It doesn't take much to make a small error. Everyday around the world we are told some pretty bizarre stuff. Most of the time we're intelligent enough to get past it. Just not always. I'm still having a field day with the CDC and their response to apathy among the public. They keep trying to warn us and help us prepare for eventual calamity and we just don't pay attention. So, they figured they'd join us in our world of sensational headlines and create a blog that would surely get our attention. With Zombies. Yep, they're on the way folks, so be ready! But all it takes to get our minds engaged it seems is to fire up our imagination. How? Simple mistakes. Carelessness on the job. Shoddy journalism, if journalism is even a profession anymore. More like Med...

News flash: The rapture will take place in the Bermuda Triangle. Exact latitude and longitude to remain a mystery. You can leave all your worldly goods with me and I will make sure that the most deserving among us finally get their slice of heaven too. I have to say, those who are awaiting judgement day to arrive this Saturday aren't doing at all what I would have expected. You see personally, I would be spending my time ensuring that I have in fact made the world a better place. Then I would be loaded up on the mother ship and taken to a better place. Because I deserved it. Though I would probably go with much regret. The earth is my home. My space. And I kind of like it here. But I've lived a good life, always tried to do the right thing and so I'm pretty damn sure that if Saturday is the day, I'm moving on up. But the Rapturites are a different breed. They are "getting ready for the judgement day" by doing every possible thing they can to impress the gr...

The title is misleading. Mother's Day isn't about getting some flowers for your mom. Or having your kids wake you up with breakfast. Or mow your lawn. Or take you out to eat. And it's certainly not about an egg. More on that later. For those who have experienced the joys and absolute heartache of being a mother it can be a very painful day. What happens when children don't call and send cards. When there are families divided. When there are motherless children and childless mothers. When Mother's Day for some is someone else's holiday. When as a newlywed, I miscarried, I had my very first bout of Mother's Day grief. I should have been entering my third trimester. I should have been planning a nursery. A baby shower. I hated Mother's Day that year. Mother's Day doesn't need to be a day of resentment or grief though. And it shouldn't be. First, as I get older, facing health issues that I as an invincible youth never thought would happen to ...

Sure. I could be wrong. The End could actually be nigh. May 21st. That's the big day. Like in 2000. Oh wait. We're still here. Or in 1000. Or 1033. Maybe it was 1853. Or the 1970's. I remember all those wild eyed folks on the street corners of New York City with their signs, calling out as we walked by that our days were numbered. Bad enough we were teenagers, breaking rules anyway, so calling us out like that and telling us we were going to die was just a bit creepy. And then there were the "88 signs the Rapture will be in 1988?" So, here's my take on the whole enchilada. Some people consider themselves very very pious. In fact, it seems as if religion is their whole raison d'etre. And so, following this logic, the fact that with all of society's laws and mores and prisons and wars and torture and threats and blackmail and sin upon sin in the name of controlling said sin, for some damn reason the fundamentalist churches of the world cannot seem ...

"What's this about Osama being dead?" hubby asked as he played a facebook game. "huh?" was my reply. "It's all over Facebook" he said. No, I didn't jump onto Facebook to see. I ran to the old standby. The television. Seems many of my peers did the same. I turned on NBC, and yes, admittedly, was already smiling simply at seeing the Donald get trumped right off the Telly. But then I watched as the President, respectfully, and somberly, announced the events of the day. Osama was dead. And at the hands of the Americans. I didn't need it spelled out. Our President had done what was necessary, and as many contend, should have been done years ago. And my first reaction was one of deep contentment. Like someone had waved a wand and made all the bad stuff go away. Finally this man had gotten what he deserved. My first thought? It's about time. But as I watched the growing reaction, the jubilant crowds in the street, the singing and dancing a...