Uncategorized

Do Republicans Care about Kids?

/ skidaz / Leave a comment

No, I’m not asking for a friend; I’m asking as a fifty-year, professional educator. Do Republicans care about kids? For from what I read and watch, they don’t. They rail about abortion, pass legislation about “woke” curriculum corrupting our children, but they do everything in their power to dismiss, or avoid, dealing with the critical issues our kids face.

If Republicans truly cared about children, they would/wouldn’t:

  1. Accept them all. Not just the wealthy white kids, whose private education they finance with public monies, at the expense of public schools, who by law must do their best to provide education regardless of race, color, ethnic background, native language, homelessness, or disability.
  2. They wouldn’t cut and gut food stamps (SNAP) that benefit over 16 million kids, nor place bureaucratic burdens on school breakfast and lunch programs. They wouldn’t slash the Children’s Health Insurance Program, which provides health care for half of all American kids.
  3. They wouldn’t gut Head Start, which provides early childhood education, health, and nutrition to low-income children.
  4. They wouldn’t have confirmed Trophy Worm RFK, Jr., who boasted heroin made him smarter and proclaimed children’s immunizations are unnecessary. Who will pay for the Iron lungs when Polio comes to Disney World?

If my facts, have yet to convince you that Republicans don’t care about children, consider these:

A. Pedophilia? Who cares? Epstein? Fake news. (Or was His Highness an uncover FBI agent? BULL S#$T) An eleven-year-old gives birth? Her stepdad thought she was cute.

B. School shootings, AKA massacres of children. Who cares? It’s only happened 229 times since 2018. Not a big deal. Kids? Who needs them?

Well, Republicans, who’s going to wipe the drool from your chin in the nursing home when you’ve decimated our children, our future? Further, please stop sending me your requests for money. I’ve been a registered Independent for fifty-six years and have no interest in donating to TACO man’s “$15 to get into Heaven’s campaign.” Thank you for your attention to this matter.

A New TV

/ skidaz / Leave a comment

Due to the recent haboob and electrical storms, my TV went to live with Jesus. Even though I rarely watch the idiot box and I do have several others scattered in other rooms, I decided to replace this dead one in my family room. Now, I don’t know anything about televisions, nor technology. I don’t care how they work, I don’t want to know anything about pixels, or any other crap I don’t understand. On and off, volume up and down, and channel change is enough for me. I don’t care about OLED, QLED, nor XYZ, etc. Size, price, online ordering with free delivery were my only criteria.

When I ordered one, I chose not to pay the hefty fee for setup and programming. Hell, any teenager would gladly do that for a Ben Franklin. And along came a brilliant young guy, who graciously unpacked the box and set up the boob tube in less than 20 minutes!

“Here’s the remote. I’m not sure it works because I couldn’t figure out how to put in the AAA batteries.”

“Sue, the remote has a solar cell. Just keep it in the light.”

“But what if it’s dark?”

“Plug it in the charger.”

“What if I want to watch Thursday Murder Club? How do I type it in?” Oops, I saw him roll his eyes; he knew he was dealing to an old technically-challenged immigrant.

“Sue, it’s easy. See this icon? It looks like a microphone. Press it down, and speak clearly. You can say ‘Bixby or Alexa, Thursday Murder Club, and it will appear. Here. You try.”

“Well, I’ll be damned! There it is.”

And once again, this old broad learned a new trick. Happy Labor Day.

The Plague: TGIF

/ skidaz / Leave a comment

In my younger life, I looked forward to Thank God, it’s Friday,where I absolutely enjoyed a weekend without my job and its responsibilities. I’d shop, go to a play, a movie, or a party. Sometimes drink too much beer and always revel in the two-night sleep without an alarm clock. As my kids aged, our house was filled with their friends after a football or basketball game. I loved it because I knew all of them and made sure there was food, age-appropriate drinks, and my monitoring. After my kids moved on, I spent my Fridays engaged in the random, boring tasks of life. I didn’t leave my casa; I did chores, read or watched a random TV movie.

Then, three weeks ago, disaster struck! Fridays suck! Can you imagine having an air conditioner malfunction when it’s 119 degrees on Friday afternoon? HVAC folk are scarce as two-dollar bills on the weekend. The following Friday, the outdoor spotlight on the pickleball court failed to turn off. The special light bulb retails about $200! OMG! Where does one find an electrician on Friday? Then on Friday this week, the air conditioner in the guest quarters abruptly quit. At first, I thought maybe a breaker had tripped during the electric storm, but no, that wasn’t the problem. I’m S-O-L until my Monday appointment. Finally, Friday night I decided to watch episode 3 of South Park. (I never thought at my age I would be watching that show, but admittedly Parker and Stone’s relentless attacks entertain me.) Damn! My big screen was dead…perhaps a result of the raging electrical monsoon.

Now, I’ve no idea why I’ve been dealt the Friday curse. In my humble opinion, I’ve not been bad–I’ve been “kind of” good. But if you can recommend an exorcist, please message me before next Friday.

“What Do You Want to Be?”

/ skidaz / Leave a comment

To a toddler, this question is simple: When I grow up, I want to be a doctor, a fireman, or the Amazon person who brings the packages. To a teenager, this question is more difficult, particularly in the age of Artificial Intelligence with its predictions most human jobs will be replaced with bots.

Earlier this week, my dentist posited, “Sue, your dad, uncle, great uncle, and brother were dentists. Why didn’t you go into some form of health occupations?”

“Tried it. At sixteen, I was a candy striper. I donned my cute pink and white pinafore and walked into the hospital, where I discovered sick people! The hospital smell overwhelmed me. Then I was assigned to feed a stroke patient, who subsequently vomited his green beans all over my uniform. One real-life experience was all it took for me to cross something off my “wannabe list.” In fact, I had other part-time jobs along the way, but each of them ended with “not for me.”

Given the few acceptable occupations for women in my time, I opted for teaching and landed my first job teaching Junior English in a vocational-technical high school. Not only did I fall in love with the brutal honesty of my students, but their diverse career opportunities from culinary arts to automotives, from carpentry to accounting. I even took adult evening classes there in graphic arts and auto mechanics.

Based on my fifty-year-experiences in education, it is just as important to discover what you don’t want to be, as it is to discover what drives your passion. Sadly, the “every student college-ready” movement has seriously impacted the lack of skilled trades people. Don’t believe me? Try finding a roofer, electrician, or plumber. The waiting line is six weeks long.

By the way, an HVAC was here yesterday for ten minutes. “What do I owe you?”

“I charge an hourly flat rate: $89.00. So $89 will cover it.”

Hmm, when as a teacher, a school superintendent or a college professor, did I ever make even half that?

Uh oh!

/ skidaz / Leave a comment

Nothing says, “Uh oh,” like walking into my casa and seeing six dogs dancing in front of my TV! Unlike most of you, my big screen doesn’t hang on the wall but sits on a cabinet at an angle between two walls.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

Of course, my dogs didn’t answer and continued their happy dance. Obviously something was behind the TV. Should I look? What if it was a heinous snake? Or a rat? Or a javelina? Spare me! Somehow I mustered the courage to peek…a big fat squirrel! WTH, do I do?

With the help of my friend who lives in my guest house, we put the dogs outside. (They couldn’t resist the dog treat-strewn patio.) Armed with a pool net, I was ready to snare the frisky varmint and toss him out the front door. However, Mr. Squirrel zigged as we zagged and alluded us. The search began.

“Sue, I found him! He’s on the landing at the top of the stair case. Prop open the front door. Maybe he’ll smell the air and go out.”

Hmm. Perhaps. “Hey, G, I’ve a better idea. I’ll go upstairs, open the outside door to the balcony, and he can get out.”

“What about the bats?”

“We’ll only leave it open for a half hour and hope he leaves and no bats fly in.”

With no sign of the squirrel, life moved on for the next five days. Uh oh! “Did you hear that? There’s a chirping sound upstairs.” Ye, gods! What now?

“Call the trapper. This is too big of a problem for us, Sue.”

On a Saturday afternoon? Doubtful. After five calls to trapping establishments, one answered and asked a series of questions. His responses to my answers were: “A squirrel can’t live for five days without food or water, so he’s probably coming and going. Thus, I’ll be out on Monday to do a home inspection etc, and the cost will be $2,500.” My ass. I’m not paying $2,500 for a squirrel hunt!

G took charge, went up stairs, and saw Mr. Squirrel scurry under the sofa. She opened the balcony door and left. When I checked the room two hours later, the bushy-tailed menace was gone–leaving behind lots of poop and chewed-up wood and paper. I canceled my Amazon order of a humane, squirrel cage trap and googled squirrels. Squirrels can live up to 100 days without food and water.

Not only did we save a squirrel, but I saved $2,500! Life is good–and very interesting.

AI and the Old Broad

/ skidaz / Leave a comment

Unlike the current US Secretary of Education, Linda McMahon, I know the difference between AI (Artificial Intelligence and A1 Steak Sauce.) Earlier this week, I read an article by Mark Zuckerberg, who posited if folk don’t use AI they will be at a serious disadvantage. Hmm. Frankly, I have a serious case of FOMO (Fear of Missing Out,) so I decided to experience this new-fangled notion first hand.

I researched a bit because I assumed such a contraption would be very pricey. However, I bought a basic pair of Meta AI glasses for $300. When they arrived yesterday, I was surprised by the set-up ease and absolutely blown away by what they could do. I put my glasses on, and I could: translate from one language to another, ask questions and receive answers, take pictures/videos, make calls, etc. I walked outside and said, “Hey Meta. What am I looking at?” The instant reply was: your swimming pool and six dogs. I’ve yet to master the app about some of my sick house plants.

When my exuberance with Meta subsided, I wondered about the outcomes of such technology. I could easily wear my innocuous-looking glasses to weekly trivia and get every answer correct. Is that cheating or simply utilizing an available resource to win? As a high school student, I would be able to pass final exams or earn a perfect score on the ACT or SAT. What are the educational implications with AI? A nation of robots? Will our children even be able to think with integrity and creativity, or will they simply vomit back whatever AI says?

AI is in its infancy with early predictions positing it will make many jobs obsolete, what will our world look like in twenty-five years? Thankfully, I’m an old broad and won’t know.

Me thinks….

/ skidaz / Leave a comment

“Methinks thou does protest too much,” play three-card monte too much, and lie, lie,lie ad infinitum. And yet, 40% of folk believe you; some even say you were chosen by God to lead us to the Promised Land. Promised Land of cruelty toward anyone who dares oppose you? Cruelty toward migrant workers who are honest and hard-working picking crops across America? Cruelty to you colleagues who challenge your asinine ideas? Cruelty to victims of natural disasters?

Perhaps, as a practicing Christian, I could forget some of your transgressions given your serious mental illness, but your narcissistic behavior pushed me over the edge. You delivered my ultimate sword to die on. You are a pedophile, and insult me by calling CHILDREN “under-aged women.” You raped children.

NIMBY

/ skidaz / Leave a comment

An acronym which has been around for forty-six years–not in my backyard. Originally, it was coined to oppose governmental or environmental changes to one’s neighborhood, such as a nuclear plant, low-income housing, or commercial development. But its meaning has morphed over time to include most everything no one wants, until….disaster strikes.

  1. “Why weren’t we warned of the impending floods in the Texas High Country?” Hmm. You weren’t warned because the state legislature denied your numerous requests for a $77,000 weather alert system. Instead, the legislature has proposed moving the Challenger Space Shuttle from the Smithsonian to Houston at the cost of $300 million! It’s all about priorities.
  2. “Where is the Federal Emergency Management Agency (FEMA), and why is ICE Barbie here?” Because ICE Barbie directs FEMA, an agency destined for the chopping block, as a wasteful, unnecessary nuisance. Further ICE Barbie is a pro at dealing with disasters. She dons her combat gear, pulls out her AK-47 and fires.
  3. “Where are Senator Cruz and POTUS?” Cruz is viewing the ancient ruins in Greece, and his highness is golfing. After all, it’s the weekend.

But this is a disaster, and it’s in my backyard! I need help.

I understand, but you denied help when it was in someone else’s backyard. You slashed funding and personnel without any thought to the consequences. I mourn the loss of so many innocent lives that were lost to your callousness and greed.

The Rise and Fall of the Diving Board: The End of an Era

/ skidaz / Leave a comment

Given the lengthy, hot summers in Phoenix, most home owners have swimming pools. Our pool was put in over 30 years ago and underwent one mega renovation. However, both of my kids insisted that the diving board remain a permanent fixture. The revered diving board to me was a source of major consternation, particularly when my youngest mastered outrageous antics, like cartwheels and a wide-range of acrobatic feats off the board.

On one occasion, I said to my then-husband, “K just back-flipped off the board.”

His response, “Is she okay?”

“I don’t know; I couldn’t look.”

Last week disaster struck. Miraculously disaster was avoided given the number of young children in my pool, when a young mother took their dare. With her kids and nephews urging her on, she mounted the board and dove. The weighty, fiberglass board flew from its platform and smacked her head as it hit the water. Thankfully, she was not injured, and thankfully, her brother-in-law managed to get the board out of the water.

As I surveyed the aftermath, I decided to replace it. Wrong. Since Phoenix has one of the highest rates of pool drownings, strict safety codes for pool construction have been enacted. Pool contractors are required to be licensed and carry pricey liability insurance for their creations. Thus, none of the reputable companies I contacted would even consider replacing a diving board and its platform on my ancient pool.

I’m okay with this, for I’m far too old to have my pool rebuilt at today’s prices. I’m okay with this because I’m not a diver. And I am really okay with this because….

I never want to see my grandson catapulting nor hot-dogging, like his mom, into my pool.

Chasing Dolly

/ skidaz / Leave a comment

Neither the clone sheep, nor Dolly Levi, but the Dolly…Parton. On Monday, I learned that the Dolly was going to perform in Las Vegas in December, and tickets for her six shows would go on sale Wednesday morning. Some of you probably are wondering why I would care, but it’s a family thing. My maternal grandparents were from a small holler, Kodak, in east Tennessee, where my great grandfather was the Sevier County sheriff. The county seat is Sevierville and home to the Parton family. Given the size of the community my relatives knew the Partons, and until my grandmother’s death she was an avid follower of Dolly’s rising success. (My youngest kid somehow inherited my grandmother’s admiration for Dolly and exclusively uses her cake and brownie mixes.) Given this quasi-familial relationship, I set out on a mission to get concert tickets. Just 8 tickets, which according to the website would cost $600 at the high end, and $25 at the low.

Wednesday morning, 9:00 AM: I entered the queue. WTF? 54,569 folk in front of me! My kid was in the queue with 13,000 ahead. Thank God. We’d score tickets for sure. 10:00 AM the sale began. 10:30 AM all six concerts were sold out! By 11:00AM, the alleged $600 seats were being sold by brokers for $13,929!

Talk about shock and awe for this old broad. My dreams of spectacular Christmas presents shattered, I schlepped away with a determination to figure out what happened. After too many hours of research, I’m still not an authority on what happened. My simplistic explanation is: ticket scalping in the digital age due to (ro)bots. If you want to further understand, consider reading Ticket Masters: The Rise of the Concert Industry and How the Public Got Scalped by Budnick and Baron. Supposedly, His Highness, at the urging of Kid Rock, issued an Executive Order in March to curtail this practice, but obviously that’s yet to come to fruition.

When a nation is run by billionaires, the rest of us don’t matter. Sorry. I’ve got to go. I’m late for the Bezos’s wedding!