Gangster turned hero:

Gang warlord turned hero
We think on 1950's America as an idyllic, simpler time. A beautiful slice of life immortalized in the paintings of Norman Rockwell. Ignored in these nostalgic pictures are life among the poor in the ghettos.

Nicky Cruz was a teenager in 1958. A native of Puerto Rico, his parents sent him to live in New York with his brother when he was fifteen. It was difficult adjusting to a new culture, and a new language in a city that had little care for those who didn't fit the Rockwell portrait.

Nicky had a hard time in school, and was thrown out. He later joined a gang called the Mau Maus. Named after an African tribe, they prided themselves on ruthlessness. Over time, their membership grew and Nicky became president. War was waged on the police, and neighborhoods lived in fear.

In his book, "Run, baby run" Nicky recounts how he was driven by hate. A hate so palpable, he sensed it everywhere he went. He combated the hate with violence. His gang committed robbery and rape among the citizens while waging war on other gangs in the streets. No drug, no rumble, no sexual encounter was enough to quell the hurt inside him that hate firmly planted.

His life was changed when he met a minister named David Wilkerson. After three years of running the Mau Maus, Nicky met a slight, odd looking man who found the right words to reach him. The word of God. Nicky recounts restless nights when Wilkerson's simple message turned over in his head. He had to do something about this preacher. Wilkerson threatened all he built, his only family.

The Mau Maus went to the preacher's rally with intent on disrupting it. Instead, Wilkerson asked Nicky and three Mau Maus to take up a collection for the church.
Was he crazy?
It was the first time Nicky felt trusted and though he knew stealing the money was the "right" thing to do, something stopped him. He took the money to the preacher instead.

He was changing.
It was scary to change. He was in control as president of a gang, and he had a degree of respect. When God began to impact his heart, he had something he never had before.
Self respect.

Hate began to die as he learned more about God. The change in him sparked a change in others.
Imagine the shock when Nicky and his fellow gang members went to the police station to turn in their weapons!

Nicky went on to Bible college and married a sweet girl named Gloria. Together, they have dedicated their lives to youth all across the world. Nicky has given talks in Denmark, England and all across America.
His book is required reading in at least three countries.

I got to hear him speak last Saturday.
His words were not those of a polished orator, but of an honest man with heart.
He was able to reach out to both teens and parents with a positive solution that would better their lives forever.

Excerpt from my book: Kindertransport
 (Wild Rose Press)

I filled the syringe with morphine. My hands shook. Could innocent blood ever be washed away? Would my hands ever be clean again if I continued this course?
The gas would make them choke, gasping for breath as their life was strangled to nothingness. Morphine would make them euphoric, and an overdose would put them to sleep, peacefully, with no pain.
I filled the second syringe, I thought of each child as I punctured the rubber stopper, the needle sucking up the lethal fluid filling the tube.
Little Wilhelm.  treasured leader of the pack. The braces on his legs never stopped his imagination from soaring.
Lara. An artist’s soul expressed with the one good arm she had. Art was reflective of the beauty living in her heart. The twins. Isn’t intelligence measured with creativity? I would sorely miss their energy.
My hand slipped, the needle grazed the knuckle of my thumb. I swore and bit my lip. Perfect. I‘ll kill myself before I get the chance to euthanize my children. Then after I enter Heaven’s gate, if He lets me through them, I can tell God I’m an idiot and a murderer.
I rubbed my shoulders, they hunched with an invisible weight making my back ache.

Stephen King: On Romance?

Stephen King: What the master of horror teaches about romance.

I got busted reading "Carrie" in science class. I trembled with the thought of surviving a pandemic with "The Stand."

Stephen King: A romantic hero? Maybe atypical but absolutely! Let’s look at why:

Stephen knows loss. He grew up with an absentee father and a mother who took charge, a woman who made her living working hard and caring for her sons. She tended to her children's mental and spiritual health as well as caring for her extended family. A woman who provided an inspiration of strength for those who knew her. She died far too young. A loss a young man shouldn't have to face, but her strength was passed on to her children. instead of blaming the fates, they carried on. His modest background gave him sensitivity to the working class and some vital insight about the human condition.

Stephen went to college. He worked his way through school as a janitor.
It was in college Stephen met Tabitha. As students they connected.He admired her for her intelligence and creativity, as she is a writer as well. It was Tabitha who rescued "Carrie" from the trash and demanded her husband finish the manuscript. He was smart enough to listen to his wife, and finished the work. He has loved and dedicated his life to his lady, Tabitha, his college sweetheart. Together they’ve faced and overcome his drug addiction and the physical challenges that came from a severe motor vehicle accident.

He has been a father to his children for the long haul.
He has overcome personal tragedy and offered support to budding authors with his "On writing" book.He fought a drug addiction during his marriage. It takes courage to admit you have a problem and to ask for help. It is even more courageous to make private pain public so others can be inspired to seek help too, even though doing this gives the mean spirited an easy target.

Stephen was given another horrific challenge when he was hit by a car. Months in physical therapy allowed him to walk again, but the steps were slow, a grueling struggle to heal. Despite the damage to his body Stephen didn’t fall into despair. The self is the greatest enemy, the love of his family his greatest asset. Tabitha was with him every step of the way, no matter how trying.

Horror is all around us. We see the evils humans do; it drags us into emotional mire. Hearing the news is enough to make us want to hide under our beds or just get through the day so we can make it back to the sanctuary of our homes. Through it all love makes it bearable, infusing us with the power to look evil in its face and claim victory.

The master of horror, by his own strength and perseverance is the model of a true hero.

Infamy

Can love break the barriers of time and distance?

Is it possible to have a bond so close that a person can sense the distress of a loved one far away?

After the bombing of Pearl harbor, Jacob DeShazer trained for a mission. A retaliation to bomb Japanese targets then return to china and rendez-vous with American troops. The men knew the chances of survival were slim due to a strong Japanese presence in China.

The air raid was a success, however; on the way back, the planes failed forcing the men to parachute from them. Two men died in the landing, while Deshazer and his fellows were captured.

Back in the states, a mother woke from a dream where she felt as though she were falling. She began to pray for her son. Her fears were confirmed in a news story about pilots captured by the Japanese. her son would be a prisoner of war for three years. Despite her fear, she held fast to the belief her son would come home. The belief gave her peace.

DeShazer returned home a changed man, during his incarceration he was allowed three weeks to read a bible. Jesus' teachings on forgiveness strengthened him; his teachings on love, inspired. He was able to embrace the truth that we are more than our governments. Peace is possible when we learn to love one another. A mission statement more difficult than it sounds.

After the war, DeShazer married and returned to Japan with his wife and son. After writing "I was a prisoner of Japan", he spent thirty years as a missionary. One of his fans was the man who led the attack on Pearl Harbor. the two became friends and worked as missionaries together.

A day of infamy started a life long work for peace.

Rusty Pen

"Advice? I don't have advice. Stop aspiring and start writing. If you're writing, you're a writer. Write like you're a goddamn death row inmate and the governor is out of the country and there's no chance for a pardon. Write like you're clinging to the edge of a cliff, white knuckles, on your last breath, and you've got just one last thing to say, like you're a bird flying over us and you can see everything, and please, for God's sake, tell us something that will save us from ourselves. Take a deep breath and tell us your deepest, darkest secret, so we can wipe our brow and know that we're not alone. Write like you have a message from the king. Or don't. Who knows, maybe you're one of the lucky ones who doesn't have to"

Pushy People

We've all met them:

conventional wisdom calls it assertiveness. somehow its empowering to "Assert" yourself into another's business to the point they are ready to hire a hit man.
maybe they should.
I have been plagued with pushy people my whole life starting with family.
I baby sat in high school for a terrific lady named Judy. Judy was my mentor, whether she knew it or not, she perhaps saved my sanity and saved me a fortune on prozac.
Mom would ask how much the house my client lived in cost. She then seemed to want a list of assets and an approximation of client net worth.
huh?
how the hell do I know? I'm 17 and I am not in real estate.
It didn't stop there, privacy was an issue. It wasn't an issue for her, she didn't understand the concept. I got a letter from my sister. I didn't even get to touch the envelope before mom tears it open and starts to read it. My sis was pissed at me and mom was clicking her tongue telling me how mad she was and of course it was my fault.
My sister wasn't good about privacy either. her 4 year old went rummaging through my closet and found condoms. big trouble for me, but no talk to junior about discretion being the better part of valor.
I had roommates who took my car without permission, boy friends who wanted to have sex with all my friends until they dumped me.
the latest incident being the mom of my sons girlfriend rifling through my closet.
I try to be nice, i really do
she wanted to know what was in my spare room and i told her it was storage. she couldnt wait to get in there! why?
she finally backed off after I told her it was where i hid the bodies of the last few bitches who coujldn't respect my privacy.
In this age of tell all, i need to be assertive to tell them all off.
If you want a tell all, watch Springer.
Back off or i will assert my foot into your ass.

yea, i didn't I do that?

CNA

Certified Nursing Assistants.
This should be a noble profession, the girls really do like thier patients.
No, I will not call them clients. Patients are in need of care, clients are money makers for business. At least money is made for someone else, as CNA"s are forced to work at poverty level or below.

Nurses can no longer be equated with patient care. One freind dropped nursing school when , after two years, she hadn't even been taught to use a thermometer. In two years she only had an anatomy class, patient care wasn't even mentioned.
Nurses (RN's) can work ten years in a hospital and never enter a patients a room. They are in offices doing paper work.
LPN's are the ones doing treatments and passing meds, unless it is a floor where the liablitly is too high, then an RN is on the floor, but if the work can be passed onto a lower grade, it is.

Many RN's see patient care as a task below their station. If I only had a dollar for everytime I asked for help, only to have the RN tell me "I'm a nurse, I don't work with patients" as she trots down the hall with a big smile on her face. Leaving the patient looking at me in utter confusion.
The patient sat on the bedside commode for half an hour while I hunted down another CNA and waited for her to get a minute to help me.

One memory I have of working in a nursing facility (please note how the names always imply kind care giving in order to lure the client to their fate), involves patients being lined up along the wall opposite the nurses station. I was feeding a patient when I heard another patient trying to gert the attention of two administrators conversing in front of her.
she was asking for a tissue.
Several minutes went by and pleas became more urgent.
Glancing toward her, she was trying to wipe the snot running from her nose onto her shoulder, wiping the excess from her lips, she tried to remove the mucus from her tongue by scraping it along her shirt sleeve.

the adiministrators kept talking. A therapist and a doctor passed her and did nothing.
I left my patient, walked the three steps toward the tissue box and handed the client a tissue.
At no extra charge.
The two administrators kept talking then moved when they thought the client was too gross to stand near.

THe administrators have a private office, their own parking space and medical benefits.
CNA's don't.

My first job was in 1982. I made 3.35 an hour with the promsie of a nickel raise at the end of the year. The twit had the nerve to act like we were supposed to be enthused about this.
Finally, in the 80's there was a staffing agency called All Stat (not all state) who paid $7 an hour for day shift and $8 for weekends.
My freinds and I were ecstatic. We worked all we could for this agency, as most places paid $5 an hour at the most.

Now in 2010, CNA's still only make $8 an hour and that is the high side. One agency cut CNA pay by a dollar an hour citing the economy as the reason. Do you think administrators took a pay cut?

I was concerend when I accessed the DISCOVER computer program at the college. It lists nurse/psych assistant pay range as between $11-$17 an hoiur. I would love to know who they asked.
Medicare home health visits used to be $11 an hour back in 1990. I don't know what happened to the industry, but CNA's quit making money. The pay rate is busted down to $7-8 an hour with no consideration to experience.
I made more in 1990 than I do now.

Death of a parent

I know the drill too well. The patient lands in the hospital, recovers, something else goes wrong and he lands in the hospital again.
Dad has been in and out three times in a week and now they have him at a rehab center. Ugh! Its a nice way to say nursing home.

I always said nursing homes aren't gateway to Hell but you could see the front door from there.
but this blog isn't about nursing homes, its about death.

My dad and I were never close. It sucks, it isn't that he was abusive or drunk. He never drank, and i am sure he did his best with a daughter he had no clue how to raise. His mom was closed off and cold. The oldest of three brothers, dad had no real experience with how to deal with women.
He wasn't real affectionate, when I told him a hug a day was vital to mental health, he would respond with "maybe you'll get two tomorrow."
He never said where the source of the hugs would come from.

He was critical, real critical. I was already insecure and unsure of myself, add this to a birth defect that kept me alienated from my peers, and constant criticism was a devastation to me.
I went to work once and opened up to a co worker about him.
she said "It sounds like he's always knocking you. It's hard to like someone who's always knocking you."

I hate to sound like a whiner, but talking to him was like being on a job interview. I always called to wish him a happy birthday or father's day at times when he wasn't home so I could just leave a message. I tired to be closer, but the personalities just didn't mesh.

As he got older, and he was showing signs of dementia, we got along better.
I joked with my hubby and son about it.
We laugh, but they both know what I'm really saying.

We talked while he was in the hospital.
I am conveniently located out of state, so I can stay safely on the phone.
He told me he loves me, and he was really supportive of my family and our future endeavors.
Now I know how sick he really is.

Mom tells me he cries, he hates being helpless and feeling worthless.
I know the feeling.
I've called mom several times and we talk. He could on a few more years this way, but I hope death is merciful. He will die soon with dignity rather than be bed bound and sick. He is confused at times and he describes the lunch room at the home to be "creepy".
He sits next to people who say nothing for 45 minutes.

They have nothing to say. the train is about to make its last stop and they need to review their lives and get right with God, before its time to disembark.

I am calling mom a lot, as I want to support her.
Dad I hope will go to Heaven soon. I don't mean to sound harsh, but the reality is, mom is over 80 herself, and she can't care for him.

For me, I will treasure the last conversation we had. Dad was the loving father I always wanted.

The women who shape us

We try to remember none of us are perfect. We try to give those around us the benefit of the doubt, and we try not to shout WTF when someone says something so mind boggling that logical thought is blown.

Porsche is trying to raise a lady, a high class lady, not a tramp. The problem is her standards are a bit Victorian and it seems natural inclinations play no part in her attitudes.
I was 12 when i went to my brother's ball game. A really cute guy was near the water fountain and I just wanted a closer look, so I took a drink.

OMG
You would think I was offering blow jobs for a quarter. Porsche went nuts.
I was labeled a whore and told everyone saw me "chasing after" this boy.
By this time I wore a 34 B, it wasn't like dudes weren't gawking at my chest; yet, I never heard any of them get the verbal beat down.

Moving on to 8Th grade. I was vengeful, and I still say the sucker had it coming.
For months I was taunted at school. I went to the office crying, only to be told to ignore it or worse, "maybe they like you."
Perhaps the teaching that abuse equals like is what lands a person on Dysfunction Junction.
Well I had had enough.
I put my poison pen to paper.

Love letters, each more scorching than the last, made their way into the tormentor's locker.
Always anonymous and always read to his friends.
It was almost too easy.
He got a letter a day for a month before I finally signed it with a boy's name.
LOL

He called me crying.
The twerp even tried the guilt card. "I know a good Christian like you would never do that."
Bitch please.
Ten years later, he still refused to talk to me.

The down side was when I was caught reading one of the letters to my BFF over the phone.
YIKES
Evil genius is never appreciated in its own time.

The day I realized the paragon of virtue that is Porsche had a character flaw was during the LA riots. Rodney King was beaten by police and it was video taped.
Porsche was livid over the rioting and couldn't understand why people were giving the boys in blue a hard time. Don't they sacrifice for the good of the community.

I tried to explain "Porsche, did you see the video?"
In a perfect "Edith Bunker" tone she responded:
"Oh! I saw that...Why'd they quit hitting him."

The phone was silent. I was dumbfounded.
"I guess their arms got tired, Porsche."

I laugh at this now, but seriously, I 'm thinking scoping out a cute guy at the water fountain might be the lesser of these offenses.

Springtime resolutions

I haven't been fanatical about posting this blog.
As I about once a week on other blogs, but I wanted to start with the beginning of Lent to restart.


Spring is the most symbolic of seasons, though I love the snow, renewal is inspiration.
I have decided I am a writer asnd need to create a platform as such. In keeping with the lenten season I will give up some things.'

I surrender the notion that I have to have the perfcect figure I had at 20. I am 47 and my husband finds the extra curves appealing. enough said. the up side to being a biker, fashion isn't a biggie with these guys.

I will adopt healthy habits. walking and yoga. I would like to fit more comfortably in my leather pants, but I will not obsess over being a little heavy.

I will quit trying to tell God how to do his job, The world is not now, nor ever will be, what I think it should be.

I will create a platform that reflects my writing and submit more often (articles, not opinions)

I will be happy with who I am and with what I have.

A newbie biker, Christian and writer with a teen son and a husband who adores me. I am blessed and as such, I will use my talents to offer comfort and humor where I can.

I will always be flawed, so the pressure is off to be perfect.
so screw it, let's ride.

Book Review

Kindertransport
Jennifer Childers
Historical romance
Available from The Wild Rose Press
ISBN: 1-60154-522-3 August 2009

In the months before full scale war breaks out in Germany Erika Lehmeier is trying to find a way to help the six children she cares for escape death.
Hitler has decreed that people who have no worth to society, the ones he calls feeders, have to die to preserve the sanctity of the Aryan race. Erika knows the strengths and goodness of the children and can't bear to see them harmed. The only one she can turn to is Rickard Sankt an SS officer. Will he help her or lead them all to certain death?

Jennifer Childers tells a fascinating story of atrocities committed by people who believed in a leader who brought them to prosperity. By the time they realize what is going on they couldn't refuse to follow his demands if they wanted to live.

There are always those, like Gregor, who thrive with a license for cruelty. The writer reminds us in many ways that he and others of his ilk aren't representatives of all German society. Most readers know the history of the death camps where Jews and other unwanted adults were annihilated. This is a heart wrenching tale.

I don't think the plans to destroy a whole generation of adults and children with any kind of mental, emotional or physical defect is as widely known.
Excellent characters and dialogue throughout show the wide variation in the German citizens' reactions to what is going on around them in the world. Erika, Rickard, Father Julian, Olga and many others show the diversity and the love everyday Germans have for their country. Ms. Childers has done an exceptional job crafting this mixture of fact and fiction into a book that will captivate the reader from first page to last.

Overall rating: Sensuality rating: Very sensual

History's tough mothers

The worlds'oldest profession, err, the other oldest profession.

Motherhood.

We are the cornerstone of society, the building blocks of an empire rest on our shoulders, how we nurture the next generation makes history.This mothers day, I would like to acknowlege some of the tough mothers we might have forgotten.

Anne Boleyn:
Refusal to become Henry VIII's mistrress. Anne kept her eyes on the prize. She became Queen of England when Catherine of Aragon was evicted back to Spain. A key figure in the English Reformation, She gave birth to one of the greatest leaders in England.
Queen Elizabeth I. Sadly the birth of a dughter became her undoing when the king wanted a son. She was beheaded May 1536 for hight treason.
When her daughter became queen, Anne was verated as a marty and heroine of the English Reformation. Her sister ran off with her child and raised her so, Mary Boleyn deserves mention as a tough mom as well.

Olympus of Epirus:
Princess of Epirote, commander of her own army and Queen of Macedonia, Alexander the Great just called her mom.Angry at comments that her son was an inferior hier as he wasn't of pure Macedonian blood, she told her husband Zeus fathered her baby.
They divorced and her husband, King Philip of Macedonia, denied Alexander. At the wedding of his next wife, a toast was made blessing Philip and the legitimate heirs he will have with his new bride. Philip then offered this man the hand of his daughter (with Olympia).
He was found murdered soon after and Alexander took over his father's throne.She supported her son and they were close, afer his death Olympia reared her grandchildren as warriors, plotted against ememies and caused the deaths of usurpers.
Cruel while in control it is said she was denied burial rites after she died.

Elizabeth (Ersébeth) Bathory:
The countess of Hungary, mass murderer, occultist and mother of four.When accused of her crimes against female blood the countess outsmarted her cousins attempt at a land grab and left all her property to her children, assuring thier wealth and title after her death.
She helped fund the war against the Turks and was in line to be queen of Poland. Her son stood up for her in court. Bathory was not executed but bricked up in her room until she died four years later in 1610.

Cleopatra:
Incestuous marriage to her brother yeilded no children. Political alliances (and betrayals) bore a son to Julias Ceasar and a son as well as twins to Marc Antony.Her reign marks the reign of the Roman Era i n the Eastern Mediterranean.
She rebelled against Rome and tried to fend for the best interests of Egypt. Allied with Marc Antony they suffered a final defeat at Actuim. She killed herself.
Her beauty was not as renowned as history proclaims. in the words of Plutarch, what made Cleopatra attractive was her wit, charm and sweetenss in her tone of voice.

Coretta Scott King
After her husband's murder in 1968, the easiest course for this lady might bave been to flee to a more tolerant part of the country and never risk raising public ire again. Coretta might have been critcized for not protecting her children, instead she rose to the challenge of continuing her husbands work with the civil rights movementas as well as the womens movement.
She approached Josephine Baker,an entertainer and activist, to take over her husbands place as leader of the civil rights movemement. she declined stating her children were too young to lose a mother.
Coretta steped up to the plate herself, speaking boldly for human rights, and an end to war and poverty.she founded the Martin Luther King Jr. Center of Non Violent Social Change in Atlanta.
Any threat of violence was superceded by a desire to carve a better world for children, hers and ours.

Does motherhood bestow an occult inner strength or does the power of love transcend all forces both natural and supernatural?

Lt. Nyota Uhura

In 1966 a new show came on the air called Star Trek.
A western set in space, the show gave free thinkers food for thought, in fact, after 79 seasons it was cancelled for being "too cerebral."

As a kindergartener watching this show with my older brothers, it didn't occur to me that white people working with other races, let alone Vulcans, should be unusual in any way.
I loved Uhura.
It was a dark secret I had to keep to myself, as an upper middle class child, growing up in the 70's there were some things not accepted.

In the 70's if there was a black woman on the screen she was a nanny, whore or maid.

Enter Nichelle Nichols.

The bridge of the Enterprise was graced with a woman who was elegant, refined and highly intelligent. Every inch a lady, Uhura shattered the stereotype not only for black women but women everywhere. She did not get coffee, no one referred to her as "the little lady" and she held her own without benefit of a husband.

Her skirt got shorter with the part and Nichelle thought about quitting. She tells about being in her dressing room when Martin Luther King popped in to say hello. He told her don't quit, no matter how small the part becomes, she is a role model to black girls on a show optimistic about the future.

Thankfully, she didnt quit, but Dr. King was only half right. Lt. Uhura was not just an inspiration to black girls. To the little girl ostracized for facial paralysis, Uhura gave me an example of dignity I tried to emulate as I walked down the halls at school. Lifting my head high I wouldn't let anyone see me cry. I read and learned to ignore ugly things I heard. (ok I did backslide and get suspended for fighting once. must have been my inner Kirk)

I look forward to the prequel "Trek XI" comes out next month. In the thirty second trailer you have Uhura stripping off her shirt.
Annoyance began creeping up my spine.
There is rumor she is going to have an affair with Kirk.
I gave an exasperated sigh.

As the release date nears, I am ready for battle. I want to love the movie, but more than that, I want Uhura treated with the class and dignity she has personified for 40 years.
She is nobody's slut and I don't think she needs to shake her money maker for ratings. (Isn't that what the Andorians were for?)

I will become very angry if they sully this refined character and make her ship's trollop. I will resort to coarse language when I rip into my communications board and blast Paramount out of the water.
I hope I am over reacting to a thirty second trailer and the creators of this movie will respect Rodenberry's vision.

It is a vision wrapped snugly in my psyche. Peace, cooperation, and unity made possible through acceptance of others and acceptance of self.

The Watchmen

I went to see this movie last week. I really can't say I'm a prude of any type as I can make a sailor blush with limited effort and I am a fan of the martial arts, but enough is enough.

I don't feel so guilty when critcizing a work by someone who has enough fame not to be hurt by my comments, and frankly, they don't care what the likes of me thinks anyway, but let me talk about this film and there will be spoilers aplenty.

The story starts with a murder. A character called the comedian is killed in a violent struggle for his life. He was a hero, a war veteran and a real scumbag. By the time you learn more about this character the more grateful you are to the killer.
First, the comedian isn't funny. The irony behind this is told by the other hero in this retired gang of superheroes, Roshack. (more than likely spelled wrong)

You see Roshack is an abuse survivor and moralist, the comedian would be his foil. the final joke is on the people themselves when Roshack points out there is no real good, when the forces of good are willing to do evil in the name of good.

Confused?

I don't blame you. Let me talk about the characters. In the 1940's The Watchmen became such effective crime fighters there was no more need for police. The comedian brutally beats his fellow superhero and attempts to rape her. He is stopped by his fellow crimefighters. (nothing happens to the abuser)
Later you find out the next generation heroine is the child of the rapist and the girl superhero (these characters are so bland I can't remember their names.) seems she let him have a second shot.

Please. If a woman is tough enough to fight off a superman is she really weak enough to let the SOB take a second shot at her? I couldn't find this realistic at all, unless she was a dolt or a doormat, no woman in her right mind would let this masogynist near her.

Her daughter grows up to be a superhero in her own right. Falls in love with some radioactive man with glowing blue skin and an impressive member. He is naked through most of the movie and Mr. Happy is glowing for most of it.
Great. A smurf on steroids.
This romance started after Mr. Blue dumped his lady love for a younger woman then he is devoid of emotion (not to mention morals, personality or sensitivity) and she dumps him for a nice, bland younger, former super hero, whose name I also cannot remember.

The duo rescue Roshack from prison. The one character with depth and likeability, brilliantly played. He is tortured, he is committed to ridding the world of moral disease. Problem is, he works with most of it.

The violence is over the top and unnecessary. When the baddies try to get Roshack in his cell, thug gets his hands tied, then his arms cut off when his boss gets hold of a chain saw and dismmebers his lackey for being in the way of the door. so you are looking at a double amputee with blood gushers flowing from two bloody stumps.

The good guys (after some sex) do save Roshack, though it was hardly necessary. One fight scene focused on the heroines stilletto shoes and long flowing hair. I guess dressing like a slut increases your armor class?

The end was interesting, I liked the twist and if you haven't seen the movie, quit reading now.
I really am trying to save you $10.

The former superhero, (now mega rich) has decided in order to save billions, a few million have to die. He blames Blue member for bombing New York so the world can unite against a new enemy. This sends big blue off to outer space to live out his days and makes a hero out of the hero turned villain so the greater good could be served. Now we have world peace and it only cost a few million lives. This put Roshack over the edge and he allows himself to be killed. His life was a lie, his mission to punish the guilty was made a lie with his team mates actions, and to live would be spitting in the face of truth.

I was sad. He was the only character I could care about.
So the movie ends with a stalemate of sorts. The Watchmen can't punish the bad guy because he is a good guy, yet he just killed off New york to serve the greater good.
err...
Now the world is at peace and the newspapers are bummed. Nothing to print you understand, until the news geek finds Roshack's journal, hope! there is enough dirt in there to win a pulitzer for sure.
This is how the movie ends, not a bang or a whimper just trumped up special effects to cover a weak plot and weaker acting.
Sadly, its a trend.

manners

I admit it, I did not attend the Emily Post academy of good manners, but I do like Miss Manners column.

Being a charm school dropout, i am not cultivated in all social graces, but for the love of pete would a little common courtesy kill us?

I had to pay a speeding ticket. In line with several people I waited to plead guilty or innocent and have my fee reduced by the kindly DA at the end of the line who took his morning for this purpose.

A gentleman, we are blessed with those in the south, opened the door for a lady carrying a load and the broad says to him "your moms proud of ya"
my jaw dropped, she went through the security door (lucky for her) and I exclaimed
"what the hell was that?"
People looked surprised and I went on to expliain "a thank you is all she needed to say. Why in hell would you be rude to someone offering you a courtesy. what a bitch"

Yes, i've covered my lack of ladylike decorum in these circumstances before. the gentleman in question seemed shocked at my response. Honestly, women complain about men all the time, its a wonder they bother with women at all. To be off the cuff rude to someone who was nice to you is inexcusable. I wanted to box her ears!

Back in the 80's when Cosmopolitan magazine was considered the women's bible (May God have mercy) there was an article listing smart alec responses to men's sexist behaviour. such behaviour including, opening the door, offerein to help with our coats or pulling a chair for us to sit down.

Please. Bring me a time when these are the most serious offenses a man can make against a woman and I will never say another word against chewing tobacco, fart jokes, or the obsession they have with cars.

Anyway I complimented the young man on his manners and apologized for this woman's lack of refinement. So the battle rages between my biker half and the part that remembers etiquette class and dressing in lace.

In closing, be kind to men. They have suffered with woman''s sufferage far longer than they should have with the conflicting ideas and the constant beratement. Give him the remote, make some supper and give him a backrub. He earned it.

Hypocrites

In the workforce, some semblance of manners is expected when dealing with people. We need courtesy, it is a social lubricant. It also keeps us from tossing people from tall buildings, not that they may deserve it.

I thought I was close with a patient. she was about my age and we both have teenagers. I honestly don't remember saying anything out of line to her. I do remember her spawn being in the room.

The subject was Nazi's. Allegedly, I talked about Nazi's and the topic was enough to throw the faux southern belle into a swoon. I don't remember saying anything. Our kids are studying the Holocaust in school and have to read the book "Night". Seeing the book may have prompted a comment, i honestly don't know.

My Uncle liberated a concentration camp and my father fought the Battle of the Bulge. I have no Nazi leanings I promise.

Back to the uproar. Supposedly, due to thier Christian belief (did I mention I was raised Catholic?) the subject of Nazi's is too harrowing for their mindset and they simply cannot abide my presence any longer.

oh dear, my paycheck is now cut in half.
Had I uttered a "sieg hiel" or talked about Hitler's dreamy eyes, I could understand the outrage. What really brasses me off, is the teenager.

More than once she missed the bus and I took her to school (let me also mention the nursing services are paid by the taxpayer, the client pays nothing.) She asked me to take her to a fast food restaurant before we went to school. I said fine.

This budding epitome of Christian womanhood did nothing but talk about how niggers shouldn't be at her school and she wished the county would re-segregate.
I remained a professional and said nothing.

Had I actually held Nazi leanings, I would have explained to the little darling that the handicapped would have been listed among the unworthy and she and mumsy would have a government paid vacation to the detainment center of its choice.

so all I can say is "wow". The crime of sixty years past will be held against a person with a word, while the crimes of 40 years past are celebrated.

May God forgive us.

थे थे age

Paranormal

HI,

I'm Jennifer Childers and I write for the Wild Rose Press.
My new release "Kindertransport" will be out soon, I will post a release date later. It is historical romance set in prewar nazi Germany. it's interesting to note Adolph Hitler was on a search for paranormal and occult artifacts when..."
"AAA!"
A figure approaches and gives Jennifer a shove. She screams and topples down hill. Alayna smirks and waves bye bye.

"Later loser," Alayna cracks her riding crop. "Listen up. This is a paranormal site and I'm, technically, paranormal. Werewolf or werekin if you prefer. I'm just a bit tired of the goody two shoes heroines and their pathetic tales of woe. Does he love me? Will he love me forever? Gads, suck it up or die you pathetic pup. If you want a man, grab him, take him and make him beg to be your slave. If he gives you a problem, beat him into submission. I'd say allow him to pleasure you but return him to the pack after about a week, that way you don't have all the soppy emotional crap keeping you from what's important. Watching a woman coo over a man just makes me want to put her out of her misery, permanently.

Historically speaking in 1433 Emperor Sigismund declared a disbelief in werewolves to be illegal. There is a reason for that, we're here. I remember tales of werewolves in post war Nazi Germany. I got enthused for nothing, they were just a bunch of guerilla fighters who couldn't accept defeat. They chose to die fighting rather than surrender. Now that I think about it, I respect that. I was bummed they weren't real werewolves however.

Our leader created us. Bigger, faster and stronger than any human. He is a scientific mastermind and strategist. When he is done waging war, and setting factions against one another, those left standing will be ripe for the plucking. Surrender now and I might be merciful, annoy me and hope your end comes swiftly. Know this one way or other, you will be on your knees trembling before my armies. I am Alayna and I am your overlord.

To see more blogs on the paranormal come to:
http://www.blogger.com/i.g?inviteID=5472494733768661705&blogID=4062637315710769193

Confessions of a Charm School Dropout: part I

I love happy endings, so let me start with one.

His name is Rusty, we have been together for 20 years. In all this time the one quality that warms my heart and makes me love him all over again is the fact he is a Southern gentleman.



He opens every door for me, drops me off at the front of the building before he finds a parking spot, and never fails to be polite to me, even when I am at my not so lovable. Every kind word and gesture has cemented my love for him.



I have grown so accustomed to his polite ways that I become confused when other men don't seem to understand the reason I keep staring at the door like a puppy and wait for them to open it for me. it takes a while, but i'm patient. eventually they figure it out.


It's hard enough to see manners fall by the way, but it seems acts of kindness have fallen victim to our current mind set as a society. We don't offer old ladies a seat or offer to help a woman carry packages to her car. It's enough to make me wage war on the feminits. (but that's another blog). I wonder if young women understand what they are missing when the simple pleasures of common courtesy have been ripped from their experience by well meaning enlightenists.



I know etiquette. Please, Thank you, may I? Simple phrases used to lubricate the gears of civility and present a comfortable setting. I can be polite, honest, unless courtesy is denied me.

I can't abide rudeness, it chafes.


I have seen Rusty jump from the car to help a lady stalled in traffic and push her car off the road. I have known him to wait after work until a female customer was picked up after dropping her vehicle off at the shop so she wouldn't be bothered. He has physically escorted a customer out of a restaurant for sexually harrassing a waitress.


I love chivalry.


along the way I figured out the difference between etiquette and real manners. Courtesy is a good thing but real manners comes from a genuine caring for another person. It seems we have forgotten to care. Too involved in our schedules, ourselves, and worry over offending someone , manners have fallen by the way. What was once common courtesy seems to be looked on with distrust. I will never forget being called into my bosses office. I was written up for creating an uncomfortable work environment. I called people sir and maám and they didn't know what to make of it so I got a discipline note put in my file. Seriously. I am not making this up.


I signed the document and laughed as I folded my copy and put it in my pocket, I then apologized for the inconveniece and promised her I would try to tone down the professionalism.


we worked in a hospital. Why would sick people and fellow nurses need to be treated with courtesy? I can't imagine what I was thinking.



I have to admit my temper got the best of me one day when I was at the check out lane and and the girl told me not to call her maám. I got annoyed. "I never met you before what the hell else am I going to call you. this should be the norm, its called manners."


ok rudely pointing out one's lack of manners does not excuse my lack but honestly I do have my limits. Dealing with what is now called "the raunch culture" has tested these limits to the full.




My beloved may be a relic from the past, a throwback if you will, but I wouldn't have it any other way. It's amazing how far something as simple as a thank you can make you feel valued, even cherished. The world has grown callous in its speech and manner. Profanity is the norm while courtesy is looked on with suspicion. These are indeed strange times.




I propose a rebellion. Join me in subverting societal norms! A return of common courtesy. A counter culture of civility! Dust off the old courtly manners, make people wonder, cause a rukus, if nothing else, it seems to make them wonder what you are up to.