Day 35: No money for food, but money for bullets.

Between You, Me and the Lamp Post

Day 35: No money for food, but money for bullets.

I got myself into a pickle. Not that I regret it. I stand by what I said and given the chance, I’ll say it again and again.

Earlier today someone asked which kind of deer are most popular to shoot. Several people reacted that they’d rather see the hunter’s head on a while than a deer. I added that I hate hunting and hate hunters.

I was well aware that I would be criticized and I was right. Within half an hour I was on the receiving end of some hateful comments. One person stated, “Are you vegan?”

I knew what she was hinted at. If I was not a vegetarian or a vegan, what right did I have to criticize hunting? If I eat meat than what’s the difference between slaughter and hunting?

In a way she is right. There is little difference. Whether it’s a cow, a pig, a sheep or a deer, killing is killing.

Yet to me there is a difference. I only eat beef, pork, chicken and fish. I never touch sheep, lamb, turkey, rabbit, duck, or any other fancy meats. If I had it my way, I would go vegetarian, but unfortunately, my system doesn’t allow it.

Others stated that hunters help keep down the deer population. Baloney! There are plenty of other animals nobody hunts, and they are perfectly fine. One example is the penguins in Antarctica.

Fact is, some people are gun-crazy and like to kill, it gives them a sense of power.

Another said that some people have to hunt to feed their children. I say, if a family is that hard up for money, then they shouldn’t have had children to begin with. What chance do kids have that come from such a poor family that they don’t have money for food? They won’t get a decent education, they won’t find a job and end up like their parents.

The problem is, all too often one or both parents spend the welfare money on things other than food and then they must good meat from another source. I do wonder though ... if they are so poor, where do they get the money from for a gun, a license, and bullets?

It angers me to no end that those who want to adopt a child are put through a demanding process. Their lives are turned inside out, they have to adhere to all kinds of rules, and pay thousands of dollars.

On top of figuring out how to get approved for adoption, parents also will face paying for the process. The average fees and costs for international adoptions total $44,000, according to the 2016-2017 Adoption Cost & Timing Survey by Adoptive Families magazine.May 21, 2018)

https://www.dfps.state.tx.us/Adoption_and_Foster_Care/Get_Started/requirements.asp

Yet any woman can just give birth to a child, or multiple children, with no questions asked.

What a sick society we live in. People breed at will and animals have to pay with their lives to feed for their mistakes.

Day 9: Is your child a genius

Between You, Me and the Lamp Post

Day 9: Is your child a genius

99% of all parents are proud of their child. They think that their sons and/or daughters are the most beautiful and smartest creatures that were ever born.

While some parents keep their pride to themselves, others tell all and sundry what a genius they have created. Listeners usually indulge those proud parents, they nod their head and think … yeah, yeah, yeah and then have a good laugh behind their back.

Every now and then though, some parents take the bragging about their child to a whole new level. They’re not merely bragging, they are so pompous and pretentious that they believe their own lies.

They Marten for instance, he posted on Facebook …

My toddler told me why Pablo Neruda was a better poet than Robert Frost. It had to do with who wrote more about grapes, vineyards and wine. Then, after taking a swig of merlot, he called Frost a twat.

A toddler drinking Merlot ... surely Marten was kidding.

Then there's Rebecca, she wrote her daughter said the following … 

"DID YOU STICK YOUR FINGERS IN YOUR VAGINA, MUM?" 

My daughter, 8 years old, on a packed tube during rush hour, who's lifes ambition is to mortifying the poor fucker that brought her into this world 😐 and, yes, shes also a lot smarter than me. 

I dont think I'm making it out of this one alive...

Perhaps Rebecca's daughter can teach her mother how to spell.

And last but not least, my personal favorite …

I knew this kid was way smarter than I've ever been. Smarter than his Dad, too. He was three, hanging on the gate, watching a man fix his motorcycle. When it started again, the guy drove off, and my son came running for me saying, "It's a good idea to have an internal combustion engine on a motorbike, because if you had an external combustion engine, you'd burn your legs." When I was 3 I couldn't have said internal or external or combustion, never mind knowing what they meant! He was 4 when he explained to me that the encyclopedias were in alphabetical order which would make it much easier to find things, and wasn't that a good idea - I didn't know he knew what alphabetical order was! Never mind knowing why.

A 3-year-old who knows the difference between an internal and external combustion engine … wow. A 3-year-old who uses the word combustion … wow.

All this is bullshit of course. I did some research and found the following …

A 3-year-old should be able to:

Say his or her name and age

• Speak 250 to 500 words
• Answer simple questions
• Speak in sentences of five to six words, and speak in complete sentences by age 4
• Speak clearly, although he may not be fully comprehensible until age 4 
• Tell stories
• Correctly name familiar colors
• Understand the idea of same and different, start comparing sizes
• Pretend and fantasize more creatively
• Follow three-part commands
• Remember parts of a story
• Understand time better (for example, morning, afternoon, night)
• Count, and understand the concept of counting
• Sort objects by shape and color
• Complete age-appropriate puzzles

In addition, I contacted a schoolteacher and asked her if what Marten, Rebecca, and Laurie claimed could be true. She laughed out loud.

"While some children are obviously smarter than others," she said, "every now and then there are the truly gifted ones. Its' not uncommon for these gifted children later in life to be diagnosed with autism or Asperger's Syndrome."

When I looked up Asperger's Syndrome I found the following:

Asperger's Syndrome is a pervasive developmental disorder characterized by deficits in social communication and by repetitive patterns of behaviors, or interests. It is observed in some gifted children.

If your child is of average intelligence … count your blessings.

Day 166: Think before you pull out your wallet parents

My Project: 365 Creative Writing Prompts

Day 166: Think before you pull out your wallet parents

My friends and I got together the other day. Alice was not in a good mood, in fact, she was fuming mad.

“Get this,” she came straight to the point, “Margaret’s maternity leave is almost finished, and she doesn’t want to go back to work. She wants to be a stay at home mom. She’s a qualified chartered accountant and now she wants to quit her job!”

“Do what I did,” Victoria said, placing a calming hand on Alice’s arm. “The very same thing happened with my eldest daughter Cindy. She studied law, passed the bar exam and got hired by one of the big law firms of Toronto. A month later she and Eric got married and three months after that she got pregnant. When it was almost time to go back to work, she announced that she wasn’t going to, that she was going to be a stay at home mom.”

I said “That’s fine honey, but I invested in your future by paying your tuition, amounting to close to $200,000. Now you have a choice, you either go back to work or you are going to pay me back. I won’t charge you interest, but if you’re gonna throw your future away, I want that $200,000 to be paid back to me. And not with $20 a month, we’ll set up a payment plan. We make the amount payable over 10 years, which will amount to $1,666 per month.”

She started laughing and wondered where in the world she was going to get $1,666 a month. I said, “Well honey, that’s your problem. But that’s how it is.”

When she saw I wasn’t joking, that I was in fact deadly serious she wasn’t laughing anymore. When her maternity leave finished, she returned to work. Problem solved.”

I don’t have that problem with my daughter, Angela,” Maggie piped up. “I wouldn’t mind a grandchild, but when I talked to Ruby about it she was having none of it. “Do you think I put myself through university, studied my ass off and worked two jobs just to chuck it all away in a kid?” she said. “Forget it, mom.”

It seems to me that the problem lies with the parents. If mommy and daddy pay for tuition the son or daughter is more likely to chuck their career at the first opportunity than if the student pays out of his or her own pocket. They know what it took to get where they are and are more likely to appreciate it. 

Think before you pull out your wallet parents!

Day 73: Who’s the boss … the parents or the child?

My Project: 365 Creative Writing Prompts

Day 73: Who’s the boss … the parents or the child?

The question ‘Should parents be allowed to smack their child?’ was recently posted on Facebook. A string of comments followed. The younger generation was against corporal punishment, the older generation saw nothing wrong with it.

I see nothing wrong with it either. When a child misbehaves, how else are parents to exercise discipline? Some might say that sending a child to their room is punishment. What a joke that is. Most kids have plenty of entertainment in their bedroom, so what do they care if they have to spend an extra couple of hours there.

Back in my day, we feared our parents. Dad never hit, he had the hands of a boxer and feared his own strength. So mam was the one to watch out for. She didn’t hit often, but when she did it was usually deserved. Sometimes she didn’t even have to hit, she just had to give us 'the look' and we knew we were skating on thin ice.

Just as a picture is worth a thousand words, so is one smack. Parents can talk and talk to their kids until the cows come home and the words will go in one ear and out the other. Raise your hand though and kids will know you mean business. Without this kind of discipline, parental authority has become a joke and kids become hooligans. They know that parents can’t lay a hand on them, and they take full advantage of it.

Just how little authority parents have over their kids became clear yesterday.

I was in the waiting room of St. Michael’s Family Practice where a sign was on display reading:

“For the sake of other patient’s health, please wear a mask if you are coughing or experiencing any other signs of a cold. Thank you.”

A woman in her late twenties walked in with a small boy. I’m guessing the child was four or five years old. While the mother registered, the boy – who had a bad cough - took a seat in the waiting room.  When she was finished with the receptionist, the woman called her boy so she could fit him with a mask. He refused.

She explained to him that because he had a cough, he had to wear a mask. Again, he refused. The woman’s response … okay then.

The boy spent about 15 minutes in the waiting room, coughing his head off. This annoyed me to no end. When adults give a tiny cough or sneeze, they are forced to wear a mask before they can sit in the waiting room, but here was this obviously sick child and he was free to spread his germs wherever he pleased. And not only was he coughing, not once did the mother tell him to keep his hand in front of his mouth. Now that’s just bad parenting. If this had been my child, he would have worn a mask whether he liked it or not.

Later on, as mother and son were preparing to leave, something equally annoying happened. As they were putting on their coats, the mother asked the son “How do you want to go home? By cab or by subway?”  Who the hell cares what the kid wants. She is the mother. She makes the decisions. Whatever next? Will she ask him what time he wants to go to bed? Or what she can watch on TV?

On the subway, on the way home I met another annoying mother and child. This mother was also in her late twenties with a kid of about three years old. He came running onto the train and headed straight for the seat next to me. Instead of sitting down, he clambered onto the seat and sat on his knees to look out the back window. Now much to see except for a dark tunnel, but okay.

I wouldn’t have minded, except that he couldn’t sit still for more than 10 seconds, and every time he twisted and turned he wiped his filthy wet boots on my pants.

What annoyed me about this woman was, not only did she not discipline her child, she was paying no attention to him, she was too busy texting. Eventually, when she took a break from her phone, I gave her ‘the look’ and it worked like a charm. She could see that I've had it with her brat and if she didn't take charge of the situation, I would.

On the other hand, I encountered no less than three Oriental couples with their child and not a word of a lie, all three children – ranging from 3 to 6 years old – were perfectly behaved. No screaming, no running, no squirming in their seat. They sat quietly next to their parents, keenly observing what went on around them. I have no idea whether they were Chinese, Japanese, Korean or Vietnamese, but it seems to me Western parents can learn a thing or two from their Asian counterparts.

www.connymanero.weebly.com

Day 64: It was an accident – Decorating for Christmas

My Project: 365 Creative Writing Prompts

Day 64: It was an accident – Decorating for Christmas

There’s been an accident at our house. Something gruesome really ... St. Joseph got decapitated.

It happened last Friday. Being December 1^st, we thought the time had come to bring out the Christmas tree and decorate the house. Don’t imagine this as easy, because it’s a huge job.

First of all, Dieter had to get the tree out of the storage cabinet which is a job in itself. The cabinet is stuffed to the gills with ... stuff. In addition to boxes with Easter decorations and boxes with Halloween decorations, there is stuff such as a fan, a heater, crutches, old curtains, lamps, blankets, cat carriers, etc. To get to the Christmas tree and decorations, all this had to come out.

Once the Christmas tree was out of its box, the branches needed unfolding. Another big job that kept us busy for at least half an hour.

Then, while Dieter decorated the living room, I put the balls in the tree. This under close inspection of our four cats: Mickey, Charlotte, Gabriel, and Holly who couldn’t wait to get their paws on the balls.

While decorating the tree, I suddenly heard a crash followed by “Oh shit.”

“What happened?” I asked.

“St. Joseph got decapitated,” Dieter said.

I rushed over and sure enough, there was St. Joseph, on the floor and his head was nowhere to be found. Oh well, I was sure it would turn up and if it didn’t I could just buy another St. Joseph.

While looking at the Christmas stable, I noticed something very strange. There was something profoundly wrong with our nativity scene. The stable had a St. Joseph (minus his head), a virgin Mary, three kings, three shepherds, an ox and a sheep, but ... there were two mangers in front of Mary and Joseph.

“Two mangers?” I turned to Dieter. “Since when did the virgin Mary have twins?

“I was at the store,” Dieter said. “I couldn’t remember whether we had a manger or not, so I bought one. Seems a shame to let the extra manger go to waste.”

I had no comeback for this. So, the extra manger stayed and apparently, in our house baby Jesus now has a little brother or sister. (No disrespect intended, I assure you.)

With the tree set up and the house decorated, Dieter decided to put lights in the annex of the living room and lights on the balcony. He was about to start with the lights for the annex when I looked at the string, mentally measured the walls of the annex and ... the string seemed too long.

“I don’t think that is the right string,” I said. “I think the string that you’re holding with the blue, green and purple lights is for the balcony and the string over there with blue, green, orange and red lights is for the annex.”

“No,” Dieter said. “This is the string for the annex and that string is for the balcony. Look, there’s a tiny bit of white paint on this light, meaning it’s from the balcony.” And off he went.

Putting up the lights went accompanied by a whole lot of sighing, moaning and occasional swearing when the hammer missed the nail and knocked a finger instead.

When the string of lights indeed proved to be too long, Dieter got creative and worked a design into the display. It wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t good either. Oh well, it would have to do.

Next Dieter put on a jacket and was now going to string the lights along the balcony. Within minutes he came back inside with the announcement ... “The string is too short. You were right, the annex string is for outside and this string is for inside.” Hm, tell me something I didn’t know. But you know men ... they don’t want to hear “I told you so.”

Then again, I made a mistake of my own. I placed an angel on top of the lamp lighting the nativity scene.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Dieter said. “That angel is gonna fall.”

“We’ll see,” I said. “It seems pretty sturdy to me.”

I was wrong. Last night when I went to unplug the balcony lights, I suddenly felt a profound thump on my head. After having rubbed the sore spot I looked and there she was ... the angel smiling up at me from the floor. Her face almost said “Gotcha.”

On Sunday morning, we woke up to the sound of something falling and rolling. Even before I came into the living room I knew what it was and who the culprit was ... Holly had knocked a ball off the Christmas tree and was now batting it around in a way that would have made David Beckham jealous.

Charlotte was also playing with something. Batting it, chasing it, and batting it some more. She had such fun that, at first, I let her play, but when I saw what she was playing with, I had to put a stop to it ... St. Joseph’s head. Don’t worry, doctor Dieter and superglue remedied the situation and all is well with the holy family.

www.connymanero.weebly.com

Day 54: Discrimination – Old vs. Young

My Project: 365 Creative Writing Prompts

Day 54: Discrimination – Old vs. Young

An HR manager recently posted a message that he had hired a woman over 50 and had taken quite a bit of heat for it from the younger generation. There were a number of comments, I put in my two cents and commended him for his decision. I added that giving the choice between a 25-year-old and a 50-year-old, I would pick the 50-year-old every time.

Most young girls marry, start a family and go on maternity leave several times. Next, the kids get sick and mom has to take time off to look after them. With a 50-year-old, you avoid all that. Women that age are not only experienced, they have grown up children.

Well, when I said as much, I was severely criticized and insulted. It was even said that I discriminated against my own kind. Maybe that’s true, but I’m no stranger to discrimination myself. Over the years I’ve been discriminated against for being too tall, too thin, too young, too old, being from a foreign country, speaking with an accent … you name it, it’s been done.

If I’m partial to older women vs. the younger generation it has a reason, several reasons actually.

Take Tina for instance. Tina’s parents spent close to $250,000 on their daughter’s law school education. She had a brilliant mind, did her articling in one of the top law firms in the city, with a firm job offer after graduation. Six months before she graduated she met a man and married him. A month before graduation she announced she was pregnant and moving to Chicago. Her parents begged her to finish her education. She could practice law in Chicago after the baby was born. But no, Tina didn’t want to listen, she wanted to be a full-time mom. Today she has two children, is divorced and her parents are still paying off her student loans.

Then there’s Betty. Betty is an administrative assistant in a bank. Shortly after she started her job she got pregnant and went on a year’s maternity leave. When she came back she back she announced she was pregnant again and took off for another year of maternity leave. When she came back to work she was already pregnant for the third time and off she went again.

Next up there’s Yasmine. Yasmine also works for a bank, has four children and shows no signs of stopping. Her children range from age 6 to 11. All four go to school and after school they are looked after by their elderly and disabled grandparents. One is blind the other in a wheelchair. When Yasmine comes home from work, she picks up her kids and promptly kicks them out. In spring and summer, they play (unsupervised) in the condo building’s garden, in fall and winter they are banished to the corridor. When it’s time to eat she calls them in and after supper sends them to bed. When asked why the kids have to go to bed so early she openly states that she can’t stand having them around. Well, if that’s the case, why then have four children?

Are there other examples of young people acting irresponsibly? Yes, tons of them, but I think you get the idea. No need to go on and on.

Now women over the age of 50, on the other hand, are a whole different kettle of fish. When they get hired, an organization knows it’s getting value for money. Women who re-enter the job market at that age are either widowed or divorced and need the job for the money. The chances of an older woman quitting because she’s getting married are slim to none, and the chances of her getting pregnant and going on maternity leave are zero.

Other benefits of hiring older women are that they will show up on time, every time. They are experienced, they know what they’re doing, and take pride in their performance.

So, if you want to say that I discriminate against young people, go ahead. My conscience is clear. 

www.connymanero.weebly.com

ISIS - Behind the mask - this might make your blood boil

Special Report Senior International Correspondent: Clarissa Ward

http://www.cnn.com/interactive/2017/03/europe/isis-behind-the-mask/index.html

This story irks me on so many levels. If the Belgian government knows this guy is an ISIS terrorist, why don’t they pick him up and throw his ass in prison, or better yet, kill him. What are they waiting for? For him to kill a few innocent people?

Whenever something happens, the government expresses sympathy for the families of those killed in an attack. Sometimes they even acknowledge that the attacker was known to the authorities. So why let this guy walk around freely. Why not do something before he acts?

It also bothers me that he collects welfare checks. He is a 29-year-old healthy male for heaven sake. Does Islam forbid him to work? Of course not, there are plenty of Muslim people who have jobs. But why would he work if he gets money to do nothing.

His wife, no doubt, doesn’t work either, so she collects welfare too.

And they have a son, which he named after a terrorist and mass murderer. How could the government allow that? I give you one guess with what kind of mentality that kid will grow up. It is a terrorist in the making.

If they have one kid, others will no doubt follow, which means more child support cheques.

If this guy loves Syria so much, why doesn’t the government of Belgium ship him back there? Is he perhaps too chicken to live among his own kind? Oh wait, there he will have to work for a living, do without the handy welfare checks and forego child support.

The article concludes that he is currently serving 18 months for domestic abuse. So he’s a wife beater. Why prison? Get rid of him and do his wife and the country at large a favor.

Instead of holding a microphone in front of him and making him feel important, they should have held a gun to his head and pulled the trigger. Problem solved.

Texting ... is anything really that important?

A friend recently posted on Facebook that they’d gone hiking on the Lone Mountain Park trail in Las Vegas. Along the way they noticed two girls on horseback, listening to music and texting on cell phones. She called this a funny incident, to me this is annoying as hell.

I admit, texting is one of my pet peeves. I can understand that one person would text another to let them know their whereabouts, such as “I’m still at work” or “I’m in the lobby”. In general though, what is so important that it has to be communicated immediately?

If I was to meet those two girls on horseback, listening to music and texting, I would have a hard time not pulling the earbuds out of their ears and slapping the phones out of their hands. I would give them the message “Pay attention to your horse, your surroundings and enjoy the sounds of nature.”

Of course, it’s not just those two who are obsessed with texting. I’ve heard of men texting while using a urinal, heard women texting while in a bathroom stall, and there’s the ever annoying texting while walking and even worse, driving. How many accidents could have been avoided if some silly message had not been sent?

How different it was back in the day.

When home phones became popular, my folks applied for a line and were told that the current waiting time was between 12 to 16 months. Because of my diabetic brother, and a note from the doctor, stating that a home phone was necessary for his safety, we received our phone in just three months.

When cell phones became popular, only business people carried one. For the average person, a cellphone was a luxury they could ill afford.

Nowadays, just about everyone, even children, have cellphones. Only, in many cases the phone is not used for calling. No, for many people, especially youngsters, it’s a status symbol as they put the latest model on display. They use the phone for games, to check their email messages and Facebook updates, and of course to text.

Parents will say that they gave their child a cell phone for their safety. Hm, makes you wonder how kids way back when survived. When my generation was growing up, nobody had cell phones, yet we all made it to adulthood.

Did we ever face emergencies ... sure we did. I remember spraining my ankle on my way home from school. I didn’t have a phone, there was nobody around, so for a little over a mile, I hobbled home that day. My generation learned how to handle a situation and in the process, we toughened up.

Like I said, texting is a pet peeve of mine. It annoys me when people walk at a snail pace because they’re busy texting, it makes my blood boil when I see a driver punching in a message while standing at a red light, or even worse, driving. And it certainly annoys me to see kids, glued to their phone. 

Would you pity her?

Soon my blog will celebrate its sixth anniversary and over the years many readers have asked me where I find inspiration for my posts. One word … Facebook. Whenever I’m short on inspiration, all have to do is scroll through the Facebook posts and something is sure to jump out at me.

Take today for instance. Someone posted a video of a 22-year old African American woman that was aimed to gear up sympathy for the woman’s "dire" situation.

She works at McDonalds at minimum wage, she had a young kid, and has to make do with what she earns, plus what she gets from child support, plus government assistance.

After seeing the video, I got to thinking and watched it again and again and I found quite a few interesting details.

She complained that she only earns minimum wage at McDonalds. Well, at least she has a job. Millions of people don’t and for one reason or another are refused unemployment benefits.

My neighbor also used to work for McDonalds, but he didn’t stay there. He went to night school, put himself through college and obtained a government job.

The woman lives in a two story house with a beautiful big kitchen. Now it so happens that I have friends and acquaintances who are not exactly well off and I can tell you, none of them live in a two story house. One lives in a cheap apartment, the second shares an apartment with a roommate, the third lives in a trailer and the forth rents one room in a house.

None of these people have children (they can't afford them) so they don’t have the benefit of child support and when they applied for government assistance, they were turned down. Subsequently they turned to The Salvation Army, United Way, and other charities and were sent packing.

The woman in the video states that she only buys frozen foods (as fresh food might spoil and be wasted). Not very smart in my opinion. Frozen food is the most expensive. Take carrots for instance. A tin of carrots costs 65 cents, a bushel of fresh carrots costs 99 cents, while a packet of frozen carrots costs $2.45. If she’s worried about wasting food, she can go to the market on a daily basis for what she needs.

She complains that she had to have a tooth pulled because she couldn’t afford root canal. 

I have news for her, I know quite a few people, working people with medical insurance, who can’t afford root canal either. As for me … I wouldn’t want root canal if you offered it to me for free. 

As for the woman herself … she is African American, yet she has long glossy hair. This indicates a) her hair is straightened, b) has extensions, or c) is a wig. Either way, an expensive look.

As for her clothing … she is seen wearing a GAP T-shirt. Anyone who has ever shopped for clothing knows that GAP is an expensive store. Her jacket I recognized as Tommy Hilfiger (designer gear). Some might say that her T-shirt and jacket are knock-offs, but knock off items are still more expensive than no-name clothing.

All in all, my less than rich friends would trade places with this woman any day. She has a job, she lives in a furnished two story house, she receives child support and government assistance … what exactly is she complaining about?