I Like your post, so you get a star. Oh, and sorry about your suffering.

Maybe it’s just me, but, why do I find it impossible to “Like” a post that is so deeply, sadly, and crushingly personal for the writer? What am I telling them? Am I telling them that I appreciate their writing style? That with their words, they conjure feelings (of sorrow & pain) within me too, and, I want to read more? ‘Cause, after all, isn’t that the sign of a great writer, having the ability to make the reader feel something? Because, that’s not what I want to convey to them when I “Like” their post.

Do they know that when I “Like” their post, I really mean that I understand their pain, as I’ve been through it myself? Or, that they’re telling my life with their words, causing me to relive my own forgotten pain? Because that’s what I want them to know. I want them to know that there is hope after dispair, there is rest for the weary, and there is love after heartbreak. That the more they dwell on their sadness, the more it engulfs them. That they need to know that they’re worthwhile, and that maybe they’ve pinned their hope of love upon the wrong person. That the world is full of love, and, that they don’t have to look far, because there is someone else out there that is worthy of their love, who is also looking for them. And, like any illness (pain) suffered, it must be worked through, and, not succumbed to, to regain your health. And, that laughter truly is the best medicine for anything that ails you.

I don’t want to negate their feelings by “Liking” them with a symbolic star, but, that’s what I feel like I’m doing. Truly, I just want to reach out to them, and give them a big, long hug. To let them cry on my shoulder, until their cheeks sting from the salt of their tears, and they are numb of their pain. Hoping that once their tears run dry, their pain will also subside, and be gone.

For me, to acknowledge their pain by approving (Liking) of it, I feel like I’m ultimately doing the same thing that the POS that caused their painful post was doing. Finding pleasure in the pain that has been inflicted upon them. A pain so deep and resonating, that I can hear the tears fall as they type out their words. And, I just can’t do that.

So, in order for me to acknowledge the writer’s pain & heartache, without feeling like I’m actually supporting it, I’ve decided that in-lieu of a star, I’m going to leave a 😦 in your post comments. Please let it also be known, that it is an invitation to you, if you should need to talk to someone.

A Poets Fan

Your words, to life
my soul they bring

My words, to you
an honest thing

The dance of the shaft
On the windblown grass

The dawning of night
from the day now past

The feathery loft
Of a bird in flight

The smile of a child
a wondrous site

But, from a book,
the wise may teach

While the depth of the soul
a poet will reach

Tis beauty that
is writ within

A voice you give
to a poets pen

Is Your Child Being Bullied?

maspring37

I received this from a teacher I know . I thought it was such a good visual way of showing bullies the harm they do. What do you think?

A teacher in New York was teaching her class about bullying and gave them the following exercise to perform. She had the children take a piece of paper and told them to crumple it up, stamp on it and really mess it up but do not rip it. Then she had them unfold the paper, smooth it out and look at how scarred and dirty is was. She then told them to tell it they’re sorry. Now even though they said they were sorry and tried to fix the paper, she pointed out all the scars they left behind. And that those scars will never go away no matter how hard they tried to fix it. That is what happens when…

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A Yellow Snow (follow-up) Moral

The snow came down, just like they said,
2-4 inches, right on the head

Toasty & warm, it was so nice
‘Til the text came in, “Hey, I need a ride”

I looked outside, to sheets of white
What the hell, this isn’t right

How to respond, what do I say
“Call a guy, ‘cause hell, no way”

“Have you no friends to call instead”
I want to stay, and drink beer in bed

Drat’s that man for asking me
I know I’m gonna hit a tree

Ugh!

2hrs into the onslaught, I’m in my car of ice
With more than trepidation, I pray they cancel the flight

I approach the road with much dismay
Bumper cars? Hey, on the way.

Is the highway really the place to be
70, doesn’t sound good to me

As I enter the onramp, with a white knuckle grip
Oh how I pray these tires don’t slip

The traffic’s at 40, they’re in no hurry here
And, I left home early, with much time to spare

I slip, then I grip, then I coast, and I slide
What would be the price for this wild ride?

I pray those behind me, don’t follow my tracks
The road here is straight, but, I’ve cut a switchback

I arrive at the airport, 9:20 you say
Without a minute to spare, I’m on-time, no way

The night schedule’s short, 9 flights in, none out
So, I wait in my car, as it’s 22 out

The next text comes in, “we’re still at the gate”
What the hell can I do, so I sit here and wait

Then 2hrs after, my short trip begins
The plane’s in the air, they won’t be socked in

When they finally touch down, and the bag’s in my car
He takes over the wheel, as we won’t travel far

Being from the mid-west, he can handle the snow
So he puts it in drive, and then off we go

Back on the freeway, with cars up ahead
He approaches with caution, the brake lights of red

He then inches over, he’s trying to pass
He lets the car coast, then gives it some gas

Our ass end it swings, first left, then swings right
Then harder it swings, like a pendulums flight

He’s cranking the wheel, over-correcting I think
Then it all happened, as quick as a blink

Like a deer in the road, I face oncoming lights
Now, we’re going backwards, boy this isn’t right

I shouldn’t be here, but be home instead
By my fire all toasty, or snug up in bed

But instead, I am stuck on the side of the road
I’m freezing my ass off, ankle deep in the snow

Thank God we’re alive, nearly been in a wreak
But, the cold air it hits me, as I get out to check

I knew I could make it, but, still had to go
And before I knew it, it started to flow

I wanted to stop it, oh how I tried
I could’ve just sat, in my own pee and cried

Like a kid on the playground, that still wants to play
Without interruption, I shrank 4 feet that day

With my bladder relieved, I slunk into my car
And prayed not to stink up, the inside of the car

I was bathing in warmth, so I turned off the heat
And, sat on my hands to keep my ass off the seat

When we finally reached home, and because of the flood
I couldn’t open my door, from my hands loss of blood

My friend, he just laughed, from the look on my face
He couldn’t get out, he was frozen in place

I wanted inside, to get out of this heat
But, instead I just sat there, and peed on my seat

Not to be outdone, he just laughed while I cried
And, he peed on my seat, while he sat at my side

My car was now dangerous, toxic at best
So, we both scurried out, to get out of this mess

Once in the house, we were stat with our showers
Then drank beer by the fire, as we sat there for hours

As we stared out the window, at the snow sheet of white
He said, “Only a fool would be driving tonight”

This story is true friend, ne’er every word
To tell you I peed on myself, how absurd

Only a fool would confess, such embarrassing things
For sheer entertainment, what good would that bring?

The moral is this, should you take any away
Just heed my advice, as there’s no more to say

Before you go driving in snow for a friend
Just buy plastic sheets, it’ll make sense in the end

We Don’t Like No Stinking Snow (either)!

We failed to see the dawn today
They say that snow is on the way

The sky is cloudy, and wind is cold
2-4, we’re being told

So, grab your beer, and grab your bread
Apparently, there’s snow ahead

Find your mittens, find your gloves
Find your parka, find your Ugs

Salt your walks, and cover your car
If you’re trapped where you’re at, I hope it’s a bar

But, if you drive, just chain your tires
I’ll be home, beside my fire

And, I won’t go out, once it falls
‘Cause it’s cold outside as Frosty’s balls

But, if you decide to frolic & play
For you, I have one thing to say

When the cold air hits ya & you have to go
Write your name, or, I don’t know

Go ahead boys, let it flow
Just don’t eat the yellow snow

Something is Phishy . . .

This, was just too wonderful to not share. Enjoy!

Hey Boys!! Keep It In Your Pants!!

When I used to tell people that I had 3 boys, their comment was always, “You’ve got your hands full”, to which I always replied, “No, actually, I’m the handful”. Granted, my boys were lively, but, if my energy could’ve been bottled, whew…..I ran circles around those tikes.

As a single Mother, my constant concerns were providing the standard necessities; keeping food in the fridge, and the utilities on. And, I worked extremely long hours to do that. But, I often wondered what type of men I was raising, given my absence, so I tried to instill certain core values in them at every opportunity.

I didn’t want them to see things my way, I wanted them to be independent thinkers. I wanted them to think things through, with rationale, and reasoning. I wanted them to care not only about themselves, but, about others, and their feelings. I wanted them to know that life wasn’t easy, and, nothing was free. Honest work, for honest pay.

I had my 1st son, 1 month after my 19th birthday. I was fairly young, but, luckily, very responsible. Before I hit 30yrs old, I was overly concerned with the fact, that if I didn’t do my job properly as a mother, I could be a Grandma at 35. The mere thought just killed me. Grandma’s aren’t 35, they’re 65. They don’t work 12hr days to put food on the table, they’re retired, and spend their days baking cookies, doing crossword puzzles, and traveling the world. So, I knew that I needed to do my part, to make sure that that didn’t happen.

There’s a saying among parents, that pointedly states: “When you have a boy, you only have 1 penis to worry about, but, when you have a girl, you have to worry about all of them”. That statement rang so true to me, that I decided that the 3 penises that I was responsible for, weren’t going to be dropping their proverbial “pole” in the gene pool, and adding to another parents anxiety, any time soon.

When my boys were young, I had only 1 rule for tv viewing. I didn’t care about them watching anything violent, because I believe that violence breeds violence, much like, hate breeds hate, and, I’ve never been violent, or hateful, that just wasn’t me. If they wanted to watch a horror, that was fine too, unless they became afraid of the dark, or, started waking me up in the middle of the night, because they “had a bad dream”. Then it would’ve stop, but, neither of those ever happened. My only rule for the tv, was nothing sexually explicit.

I didn’t want my boys to be shallow, or, think that girls were something to be objectified. I didn’t want them to be like most other boys, who “hit it, then quit it”. I wanted my boys to understand the true value of a respectable girl. I wanted them to look beyond the sex, the pretty, the superficial, the trophy. I wanted them to find a girl that was going to help them grow as a person. Someone who would feed their mind, and, their spirit. I wanted them to look for a girl that had the same values, and, to understand that more-often-than-not, it wasn’t going to be found in girls that “got around”.

I wanted to teach them to be self-sufficient, so they were never dependent on a girlfriend/wife, to feed them, or, provide them with clean underwear. I wanted them to choose a girl for the right reasons, not because they couldn’t survive without one. I wanted them to choose a girl for love, and, for life. Not simply one that they had fun with, looked good, or, “put out”.

I wanted to raise my boys in such a way, that one day, their in-laws would be proud to call them “Son”. Knowing that he would always take care of their Little Girl, who had waited so long for “Mr. Right”, without giving in, to “Mr. Right Now”.

I wanted them to look for things, that I wished I had looked deeper for, as a young woman. Honesty, sincerity, love. It wasn’t until I hit adulthood, that I realized my value, my worth, as a woman. That’s not to say that I slept around, but, insecurity will make you do things that you regret, and, sometimes those regrets happen in mid act.

For you girls, I’m gonna let you in on a little secret. One that you may not have considered before. Sometimes those same boys that are out to have sex, are actually being pressured by their peers to do so. And, if they were strong enough to stand up to their friends, neither one of you would be feeling the pressure of having sex. Quite often, their feelings for a girl are innocent, and real. But, due to their friends prodding, and pressure, sometimes, to “save face” with the guys, a boy will put pressure on a girl. So, it takes the same strength of will, and self-confidence, from these boys, to tell their friends that they’re not going to do that. In fact, usually within a group, you’ve got 1 leader, and a lot of “yes” men, and, the only reason that the “yes” men go along with the leader, is because there isn’t 1 amongst them, that has big enough gnads, to tell him no. So, it isn’t until someone finally has the courage to speak up, that the “yes” men are no longer pressured to do things that they didn’t want to do in the first place. And, hence, a newer, nicer, leader is born. So, maybe you girls need to put some pressure on your guys, to grow a couple, and, stand up to the “bully” of the group.

As a parent, it really doesn’t matter if you have a son, or, a daughter. The only thing that truly matters, is that they are raised with a feeling of self-worth, and that they know that their values matter. Maybe not to all, but, definitely to those people of value. Teach them to be respectful Leaders, and, not blind Followers, so that they don’t take crap from their peers. Make them understand that love is the ultimate prize, and, that sex doesn’t equal love, and, that they might be young today, but, tomorrow, they’re gonna be old.

And, for those boys out there that would propagate false rumors, to prove you’re a man, ya better watch out, ’cause all of those same girls that you lied about, might just have to set the record straight, by letting everyone know, that while they didn’t have sex with you, they do know, for fact, that you have a small penis. So, for Pete(r)’s sake, save yourself the embarrassment (and, her the pressure!), and, keep it in your pants!!

Hey, Yah You……You’re Being Followed!

 

Were it any other day, I probably wouldn’t have come to a place like this. But, today….today for some cosmic reason, I sought it out. It was as if God himself, brought me here. As if, all of the planets in the universe aligned, and I was pulled, as if by some gravitational force, deep within.

I would never be so bold as to think that I could stand out in a crowd like this, or, any for that matter. So, I wait for a moment, scanning faces, catching tidbits of conversations as they flash past me. Thought provoking, intellectual, funny, sad. They’re oppressive, but, more so, they’re freeing, mind numbing, inspirational.

My heart races, my palms sweat, my stomach drops, my nerves are shot……I’m a wreck!

Do I care if anyone notices me, or, do I take my newfound membership, and run? Never to use it again. Until, with time, my pass to the world fades from memory, lost, forgotten. Or, do I remain, as a Wallflower, in the shadow, on the sideline, just waiting for someone, anyone, to notice my presence.

I’ve decided to stay, that I don’t care, that here, there is a place for everyone, I’ll find my niche, and leave my mark. I’ll take this one day at a time, and, maybe, just maybe, I’ll find my voice, and contribute to the conversation.

I feel as though I’m being swallowed alive in a sea of people. Seemingly, the entire Earth’s population, has converged into this one place. I’m a small fish, in a very, very large pond.

So, what are the odds, that the very first time I would enter this new, and foreign place, I would find you? How could one person be so lucky? A mere One, among the masses. Standing out from the crowd, there you were. How fortuitous.

I find myself reading of your thoughts, taking them all in. I love the way your mouth forms those sweet, sweet, words, and I want more of you. You, with your quick wit, and, uncanny ability to deliver the perfect punch line. You make me laugh. You, with stories of your past, stories of your present, and, dreams of your future. You tell my life with your words. You, with your pain, your suffering, your surviving. You make me cry, and want to reach out, to help. You, with your worldly insights, your experiences, your journeys. You make me want more out of life. You, with your thought provoking arguments. You’ve made me angry, and reconsider.

Have you noticed me, that I’m here, following you? Does it excite you to know that you have an admirer? As, I’m sure that you have many. Will I ever catch your eye, as you have mine? Do you not know that you need me too? One chance, that’s all I ask…..because, I need you.

You inspire me….To write beautiful lines of poetry, and verse. To find the beauty, in that which isn’t. To follow my dreams, and make them a reality. To change the world, one thought, one action, one person, at a time. To heal, to grow, to give. On so many levels, I’ve changed.

I feel as though I’m obsessing, obsessing over every facet of you. There simply aren’t enough hours in the day for me to give, to find out everything that I want to know. Learn everything that I want to learn. See everything that I want to see.

It’s as though I’ve entered a Fantasy Land, Willy Wonka‘s Chocolate Factory. A place where time, nor space exist, and, all things are possible, with just a little imagination. So, I pinch myself.

And, as quickly as you entered my life, you were gone. As if, with one click of the mouse.

What do I do now? What, who will inspire me? You left me with nothing more than words of encouragement, but, I have no voice without you. It’s as though I’ve been stripped of all reality. So, I’ll wait…..with baited breath, I’ll wait. Knowing , that in time, you’ll return to this place, where first I found you.

Do you want me to stay?

….…to follow you another day………

Hoarding Money?….What You’re Doing Wrong!

I was watching SNL back in November, and, for those that are still up, glued to the boob tube after the final musical guest performance, you may have caught a show called “Your Move, with Andy Stanley”. It’s religion based, but not. It’s more religious overtones, so you’re not bombarded with anything in your face. Even if you’re an Atheist, or an Agnostic, it speaks to you.

This particular night, he was doing a segment on money, that sadly, I found to ring very true. But, I guess that was the point, right. So, his question was something to the effect of, “How much money would you need, to have enough to ensure the security of yourself, your family, and your future generations?”. And, then he gave the answer, that as it would turn out, applies to almost everybody in the world. Think about it for a second. What would your answer have been? Wanna guess what his was? Ok, fine, I’ll tell you. It was “More than I currently have”. Does that sound about right?

He stated that when people were asked how much money they would need to consider themselves rich, that it was up at $5million. So, these people didn’t think that $1mil., or, $2mil, in their pockets, made them rich. How crazy is that?!?

He explained, that the more money someone starts to amass, the more their open palm turns into a closed fist. As they become afraid of losing the “security” that their wealth would provide them in the future. So, they close their fists (to indicate “mine”) out of fear.

Then, he went on to explain how much more generous people of lesser means were. Because, they didn’t put their faith in the fact that if they closed up their fist, and hoarded that $9.17, that someday they could have a nest egg that would provide them with the “security” that only the “rich“ could afford. They just relinquished themselves to the fact that, given their menial income, that they would never be able to save enough to be “rich”, let alone offer themselves, their family, or their future generations, the “security” that the hoarders (that made 2-3-10x’s more money) were afforded. And, thus, their palm was always open to help others.

Weird isn’t it? But, think about it for a second. At Christmas, you hear stories about Secret Santa’s, who show up at K Mart, or, Wal-Mart, and pay off people’s layaway purchases. Do you think those people got there in a Ford Festiva, with a license plate frame that says, “my other car is a Rolls Royce”? And, it really is!! Hell no! But, they very well could’ve pulled up in a Ford Festiva. I highly doubt that anyone reading this, has ever seen a $75k+ car in the parking lot of ANY discount store.

So, now let’s ponder those people that participate in “Paying It Forward”. Ya think that those people that are eating at the $100/per plate joints are leaving strict instructions to the wait staff/Management, to “Take this cc#/cash, and, use it to pay for the next patron that places an order.”? I heard somebody say “Hell no”!! And, with that answer, you get a prize, because you’re absolutely right!! They can sure as shootin’ afford it more than someone hitting the drive thru at Mickey D’s, or Starbucks, who had the anonymous Do-Gooder in the car in front of them pay for their order. Then, more often than not, that same beneficiary, pays it forward to the next guy. What a beautiful thing. And, again, when was the last time, if ever, you saw a $75k+ car ordering off the Dollar Menu?

I’m not saying that some people of “wealth” aren’t generous, but, the question for me is, are they generous because their gut, heart, and conscience are speaking to them. Or, are they generous, because they can’t afford not to be. When your reason for “helping” others, is because you get to keep more of your money, after writing your “generosity” off on your taxes, then SHAME ON YOU! The people that you look down on, are giving what can’t be afforded. These are people that very well could be robbing from Peter, to help a fellow human being. These are people that check their account balance before helping. Not to confirm how little they can’t help, but, in-fact, how much they can. Their generosity can’t be written off on their taxes, even if they make enough money to file taxes. They do it, simply to help another person, another human being, that is in a worse position than they currently find themselves. They understand, that offering a little bit of help, even to a lot of people, may hurt them a little, but, it’s certainly not going to kill them.

These are the people that I want to be associated with, and privileged enough to know. The ones that give from their heart, regardless the cost to their own financial “security”. The ones that give, in spite of the fact that no one is looking. The ones that give, even when it hurts. These people understand Christianity.

Me personally, I like to buy pies for people in line at the grocery store during the holiday season. I‘ve filled 2 shopping carts with food, and given them to the boy scouts standing in front of the store with their father’s, and walked off with nothing more than the 12pack of soda that I was there to purchase. I’ve stopped my car to give someone my umbrella, while they stood in the rain, waiting on their bus. I’ve opened my home to a man that had been homeless for 8yrs prior to moving in with me. To have a generous heart, doesn’t require that you be “rich”. In fact, it doesn’t even require that you have a pulse, if you’re an organ donor.

For those who are fortunate enough to have more, remember, you can’t take it with you. And, as Andy Stanley so justly put it, when you’re on your death bed, regardless of your current religious belief, it’s going to be God that you look to for “security”, and all the money in the world can’t buy you that. Well, he said something like that. Whatever it was, it was very profound, believe me. Or, not, and check it out yourself.

I found a wonderful quote a long time ago by Desire Joseph-Mercier, that speaks to my heart:
Charity-we must not only give what we have, we must also give what we are.

And, with that, I’d just like to remind people, that to be a kind, compassionate, and generous person, you don’t necessarily have to open your wallet. You just need to have a heart.

Hellions, and Their Crappy Parents.

First, I’m gonna try to make this short, as the mere thought of “The Beibs” makes me throw up a little in my mouth, so please excuse any sounds of heaving coming from your computer. That’s just me, and my barf bag.

My last post (Follow Me….I Have Punch), had very much the same feel. But, I’m still lost in all of this. So…..

Let’s try a hypothetical situation.

If Justin Beiber (sorry if the spelling is wrong, I don’t care enough about him to check it) said to your kid, “Let’s go get something to eat”, then upon arrival of the bill, said “OK, let’s slip out while the waiter’s gone”, would they do it……..?

Would they do it regardless of the level of their friendship with “The Beibs“, being barely an acquaintance, or someone that they’d call a friend, simply because of his status? Or, God forbid because he might never call them again if they didn‘t play along? Would they do it without a thought, not caring how much/little the damage was on the bill? Would they do it because their pride took precedence over their moral value system, and they didn‘t want to wash dishes while Justin was out having fun, and laughing at their expense? Would they do it at the expense of others, so that they could be cool too? Would they do it, just because they knew that they could get away with it?

Or….Would they not do it………?

Because you taught them about Karma, and that it truly is a Bitch? Or, because they don’t want the waiter to have to pay for their meal from their own pocket? Or, they wouldn’t want that to happen to themselves, or you? Or, because you instilled in them that nothing in life is free, and anything that they want needs to be earned, not taken? Or, because they’re not willing to risk their freedom over a childish act? Or, they don’t need to prove how cool they are to someone that has no value to society? Or, maybe, because they knew that as their Mother, you’d be ashamed of their actions, because she “raised you better than that”?

Or, better yet, would they speak out against it………?

Because it’s just plain wrong, or, a real friend would never ask them to do something that was against their values, or could slap them with a criminal wrap sheet for life. Or maybe, just maybe, that being a friend of “The Sleaze”, doesn’t define them, nor make them a better person. Or, because there’s not enough giving, and too much taking as it is. I mean really, wouldn’t it just be better for the Earth’s moral compass to point a little more North, and a lot less South?

Either way, is it something that they would actually have to stop and think about, or, would the answer come to them immediately? Would they have to weigh the pros & cons to make a determination? Would they be at a crossroad, with an angel on one shoulder, and a devil on the other, both wanting them to take a different direction? Would they put so much emphasis on “who” the person was, that they wouldn’t stop to think about “what” the person was? Would they allow their moral character to crumble beneath them upon request? Would they enthusiastically upchuck everything that we’ve taught them, just for bragging rights over their friends? I would hope that they’d know that they could retain their bragging rights, simply by saying that they turned “The B-bag” down.

So, as I sit here, I have to ask myself. “Self”, I say. “What are we raising our kids to be, or, to believe?” Did you not hear that 49% of Americans, don’t think that Christmas is a religious holiday? What the hell!! These same people were kids just a decade ago.

Have we not taught them the fundamental difference between right, and wrong? Because, it really is just that plain & simple.

Do we so desperately want our kids to have it better than we did, that we would turn a blind eye to all of the nice, expensive things that they bring into the house, instead of asking how, or where they got them?

When my son’s were growing up, I instilled certain values in them. Fundamental values that would allow them to make good decisions, for themselves and others. I would tell them, that if they hung out with a certain clique, “because they had fun”, to consider the fact that all of the cliques had fun. They just chose to have fun in their own way. The “Geeks” enjoyed games, and books, and building shit. The “Preppies” enjoyed shopping & pool parties. The “Stoners” enjoyed chilling out with a beer (and the obvious joint) & being free spirits. The “Jocks” enjoyed working out & dating (seemingly superficial) Cheerleaders. It didn’t matter what their demographic was, any more than who their demigod was. They all had fun together, within their group. And, for those lucky few (like my son’s) who were diverse enough to not chose to be labeled, they got to enjoy it all (minus the drinking & weed), and were loved by all for it.

I’ve always had full faith in my boys that they’ll “do the right thing”. Not because they thought I might find something out, and beat their ever loving asses, but, because I raised them to be respectful, and to take the feelings of others into account, be they peers, adults, officials, bullies, animals, or the elderly. But, my son’s have also learned that they, themselves, and no one else, is responsible for their actions, or the consequences thereof. I’m also proud to say that my boys have zero qualms about speaking out about social injustice, and don’t give one iota what you think about them doing it. They wholly understand, that if you’re not part of the solution, then you’re part of the problem.

I digress.

But, is it only me, or does it seem that far too many parents today, are raising Superficial Cheerleaders, who support all of the wrong people, for all of the wrong reasons?

I, for one, feel that that ticket that “The Dweebs” bought to be launched into space, needs to punched! Let’s send him, and the horse that he rode in on, into the far reaches of space, where he can hover around with the rest of the space junk. Maybe that way, he can bring back that proud glint that used to be seen in his Mother’s eyes.

In the immortal words of What’s Her Face, “Stop The Insanity”!