The Face of Democracy

In New Orleans, opponents of the demolition of public housing tried to get into a city council meeting which was said to be disproportionately composed of demolition supporters. They railed against an iron gate, which was locked tight against them.

Police showed up -- 40 on foot, and 12 on horseback -- and 4 people were sent to the hospital after they were tasered and sprayed with Gods-know-what chemical (probably mace/pepper-spray).

Democracy in action? Yeah, right.

Read the whole story and you be the judge:
http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20071221/ap_on_re_us/katrina_public_housing

The Most-memory-worthy Quote of 2007 is...

"Don't tase me, bro!"
Ahahahahaha.

Full article: http://news.yahoo.com/s/nm/20071219/us_nm/usa_quotes_dc

Blah

Blah blah blah blah blah, blah blah.

Just Because I Argue...

Just because I say, "the game would make more sense to me if it was put together this way," I get bitched at.

I'm sick of it.

I'm not arguing, I'm actually thinking for myself. I'm allowed to have my Gods-damned opinion, and I'm sick of being taken the wrong way, even when I explain to the person bitching at me that I'm not "should-ing" on him.

Then again, he's a man, and most men, as everyone knows, aren't capable of being un-self-centered.

He just came in here, "Cussing me out again?" "Yeah." "Do I get to read it?" "Nope."
And then a "discussion" about why my tone was personally critical. And then why I shouldn't have been critical, because I don't have any experience with the game at all, and it wasn't a critical discussion anyway, it was just 'informative'.

What. Ever.

Maybe I'll just drop out of my critical thinking class and go back to being a vegetable. But frankly, I'm tired of being a vegetable!!!!!!

Beyond the Veil

The Veil grows thin, so thin I can hear the thrum of the spirits within my mind, chattering away at me.

Every now and then my beloved Celeste will crawl up on the bed, and I can feel her body-weight against my calves as she settles in, curling up to sleep with me. Just like she used to when she lived.

And ah! how she lived. Such a beautiful four years, my troublesome furbaby had. Scratched everything in sight, she did! But I loved her so much. The fleas and the infection they carried killed her on a terrible Sunday night, laying across Rodney's lap as we cradled her and told her how much we loved her. The autopsy found she had feline leukemia, which would have given her a little over a year to live if the fleas hadn't weakened her.

I will never forget the heart-wrenching, gut-twisting scream she let loose, that groan of Death unmistakable. It was then I knew she was truly in so much pain, and urged her to let go -- we were there, she was safe, she was loved. I have not written about this night until now because I am still very upset with it. She was my first kitten, like my own child, and it still makes tears well to my eyes.

Beautiful Celeste, I love you.