We Interrupt The Regularly Scheduled RobRant....

...to bring you a few choice words from our Founding Fathers, since there seems to be some confusion as to what they intended, and a few others for whom "The Greater Good" was not just a catch~phrase:

Let's open with this one, which seems very appropriate these days...

It will be of little avail to the people that the laws are made by men of their own choice if the laws be so voluminous that they cannot be read, or so incoherent that they cannot be understood.

James Madison

The Father of our Country:

Guard against the impostures of pretended patriotism.

George Washington

If the freedom of speech is taken away then dumb and silent we may be led, like sheep to the slaughter.

George Washington

Laws made by common consent must not be trampled on by individuals.

George Washington

No, not the beer...

A government of laws, and not of men.

John Adams

Abuse of words has been the great instrument of sophistry and chicanery, of party, faction, and division of society.

John Adams

There is danger from all men. The only maxim of a free government ought to be to trust no man living with power to endanger the public liberty.

John Adams

Perhaps the one who invokes him so much should sit down and actually listen to him...

America will never be destroyed from the outside. If we falter and lose our freedoms, it will be because we destroyed ourselves.

Abraham Lincoln

Better to remain silent and be thought a fool than to speak out and remove all doubt.

Abraham Lincoln

Don't interfere with anything in the Constitution. That must be maintained, for it is the only safeguard of our liberties.

Abraham Lincoln

Government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the Earth.

Abraham Lincoln

I hope to stand firm enough to not go backward, and yet not go forward fast enough to wreck the country's cause.

Abraham Lincoln

One of my favorite Presidents...

A Bill of Rights is what the people are entitled to against every government, and what no just government should refuse, or rest on inference.

Thomas Jefferson

A democracy is nothing more than mob rule, where fifty-one percent of the people may take away the rights of the other forty-nine.

Thomas Jefferson

A wise and frugal government, which shall leave men free to regulate their own pursuits of industry and improvement, and shall not take from the mouth of labor the bread it has earned - this is the sum of good government.

Thomas Jefferson

All tyranny needs to gain a foothold is for people of good conscience to remain silent.

Thomas Jefferson

All, too, will bear in mind this sacred principle, that though the will of the majority is in all cases to prevail, that will to be rightful must be reasonable; that the minority possess their equal rights, which equal law must protect, and to violate would be oppression.

Thomas Jefferson

Delay is preferable to error.

Thomas Jefferson

Perhaps the wisest of them all...

Any society that would give up a little liberty to gain a little security will deserve neither and lose both.

Benjamin Franklin

And a little bit for me, from the Great Communicator...

Government's first duty is to protect the people, not run their lives.

Ronald Reagan

Man is not free unless government is limited.

Ronald Reagan

Freedom is never more than one generation away from extinction. We didn't pass it to our children in the bloodstream. It must be fought for, protected, and handed on for them to do the same.

Ronald Reagan

Entrepreneurs and their small enterprises are responsible for almost all the economic growth in the United States.

Ronald Reagan

Government exists to protect us from each other. Where government has gone beyond its limits is in deciding to protect us from ourselves.

Ronald Reagan

RobRant!! RobRant!!

So, every time I post it, in my head I hear Wayne and Garth saying "RobRant!! RobRant!! Excellent!!! Patry On!!!"

I have no idea why...but it works...go ahead...try it.

Anyway, as you may have guessed, this will be yet another RobRant.

I don't know why it is, but as much as I love that kid, he sets off something inside me~other than the old hormones.

Perhaps I need to change the name of this blog from My Wckd Wckd Ways to RobRant: Because Sometimes Beauty Isn't Enough.

So, in this latest edition of the RobRant, I'm going to address young Mr. Pattinson directly. Because it's my blog and I said so. Truth be told, while he's the straw that stirs my drink, he's also been icing my cupcakes of late (sounds dirty, but it's not...unless he gets that icing all over himself and I'm forced to lick it off...but I digress...)

So, here we go:

Robert! Listen up here, buckaroo! I have some friendly words of advice for you...and maybe some not so friendly rantings in the RobRant portion of the evening. I suggest you read, comprehend and get that thoughtful, pensive look that you sometimes have on your beautiful face. You know the one. You know what it does to us...and so do we. I'll do this in bullet form, so it's easier to read:

1: Hiding in Plain Sight: Dude, I don't care if you like to boink tree stumps or Harry Potter himself, so don't be making this about jealousy or whatever. I know the odds are greater for me to win a Gold Medal in Olympic Womens Figure Skating than ever having an encounter of the carnal kind with you, so don't be thinking that's what is driving this rant. Because it's not.

What I want to tell you is this: Currently, my pet, you are a man with a bounty on his head. As such, you need to be aware. There are ways to stave off the vultures. There are ways to stem the rumors you don't wish to address. And you're doing it all wrong.

If addressing the situation directly is not feasable (personally, I am a fan of directness and honesty, as I abhor people who are disingenuous) then you have two options: You can be MORE DISCRETE or you can play with your hunters. But remember, the critter who plays chicken on the interstate eventually ends up as critter du jour at the local roadkill cafe. Discretion is the better form of valor, they say, and I could not agree more in your case. Stay away from enclaves of paparazzi and their natural hunting grounds. Avoid places where they are known to be living and breeding. When going out with friends, walk with someone else, for when you are walking with the rumored one (you know we do not speak that name on this blog) it becomes a feeding frenzy worthy of it's own week on The Discovery Channel


2: You Can't Have Your Cake and Eat It Too: You want to be famous, yet you want to be private. Sorry, wrong answer. Part of the trappings of fame are the little nuisances known as THE PRESS. Because THE FANS, who are the ones who put you into the strata where you currently reside, want to know, THE PRESS will take whatever liberties they can to give it to them. Such is the high price of fame and fortune. If you wanted to remain a private citizen, without the invasions of privacy, the rumor, the speculation, the innuendo, the constant, chronic magnifying glass on your every move, then, my pouty lipped friend, you should have become an Accountant.


3: Overexposure, RPattz is Thy Name: Damn, but you are ALL. OVER. THE. PLACE! I LOVE you and I say this! It's getting so that I question even going to see New Moon! I feel like I was on set with you filming it, and have been living in your suitcase for the last 3 months! In fact, I think I was possibly the person who did the horriffic mending job on your precious Stoli shirt. You can't swing a Cullen without hitting something that bears your image or speaks your name. Scale it back a bit, hot stuff! Like Def Leppard once said, it's better to burn out than to fade away! I am going to harken back to point #1 here: discretion. That stinky toque you are so fond of and your Eyegor hoodie (Young Frankenstein reference) do not a disguise make. In fact, if anything, it draws attention and makes people wonder: OMG!! WHAT WAS RPATTZ DOING THAT HE'S TRYING TO HIDE!! ARE THOSE CIGARETTES?? IS THAT A BEER? OMGOMGOMG!!!. See? Scale it back some, my precious.


4: Play Nice: I've noted that when you are with certain people, you seem less nice than when you are alone. I don't know if this is just something I'm interpreting, or if this is something others have noticed as well. But, as I mentioned in point 2, the fans, for better or worse, are the ones who have elevated you to the level you are at. It doesn't cost you anything to smile, say "Hi" or "Thank You" and pose for a photo, which you do...when you are alone. Sad but true, people will remember the negative before they remember the positive. Say "Tom Cruise" to me and I immediately envision nutso jumping up and down on poor Oprah's sofa, screaming I LOVE HER!!!. See what I mean?


5: Character: Not Just For Playing in Movies: This goes back to point 1 again. If you are bumping uglies with a certain someone who looks like she was rode hard and put away wet, isn't it a disservice to each other to not admit it? To not want to be the one jumping on Oprah's sofa (I'll say this much: do that and I will burn everything with your name, image, performance on it as well as petitioning the State Department to revoke any and all visa's and access to this country that you have, sweetcheeks) But you get my point, right? At the end of the day, all we really have is our character. The kind of person you are. I'd hate to think that yours wasn't nearly as strong as your jaw line, lover.


So, there we have it. RobRant over. On to some air guitar and a little bit of RobLuv :D

RobRant Redux

Ok, while I'm not nearly as annoyed with Robert today as I was yesterday, I'm still not ready to crawl back into bed with him. Well...maybe if he asked sweetly...maybe...since the estrogen appears to be flowing today...MAYBE....if he's lucky...or HOT...

Anyway, there's a little bit more RobRant on the horizon...yep...I feel it coming...like a hurricane...or a snowstorm that makes the ankle I broke a decade ago ache like a betch.

Ooh...oohh...here it comes....I shall address Robert directly, since I'm really ranting AT him as opposed to ABOUT him, as with yesterdays RobRant...

ROBERT!? I know you are not from this country. You are, however, a guest here. And as such you need to respect the rules, regardless of how things are done in your country of origin, how "uptight" you view we puritanical Americans, or how many millions you've earned at the box office! (I know...wtf am I even thinking with that last statement? Pssh!) It was noted that you were spied swigging Heinies with the one-who's-name-we-no-longer-speak-of on this blog...that's right...the 18 year old. Now, while YOU may well be of legal drinking age in the Golden State (see...that's what California was known as before the Governator arrived and dubbed it Cal-Lee-For-Nee-Yah), your date for the evening was not. As such, you should be an adult, grow a pair, step up to the plate (baseball term) and say to the barkeep "Ahem, excuse me, Gov'ner, but this young lass is not of legal age. Perhaps a Diet Coke or a Shirley Temple would be a more appropriate libation" instead of corrupting a minor (even though I do believe the corrupting is being done in the opposite direction...watch your hot little ass because the smaller the bitch, the bigger the bite, my dear)

And another thing, which has iced my cookies more than you can know: you're alleged driving prowess. You have been aaaallllll over everywhere whining about your inability to drive, your bad driving ability, your "joke" or "clown car". Yep, you have, so don't deny it. I have the Leno clip right here on the old blog to prove it (Oh stop whining!) Anyway, yesterday I viewed a pap clip last night (shut up...odds are you watch them too when you're bored) and there you were, driving a PORSCHE...with ONE HAND. Yep. Good old self effacing Rob Pattinson, who is such a terrible driver and not at all a car guy...who owns a joke car that's always broken but has a good soul...gone Hollywood and apparently lying about it. Why lie Robert? Hmm? Why claim to not be a good driver when you actually are? And we know you haven't really driven in like, 2 months, since you were in NYC and NO ONE drives in NYC...at least not natives. Maybe it's only Mad Dogs and those pesky Englishmen who drive in NYC? And if that was the case...why were you always spotted in a taxi or walking?? Yeah, because you didn't drive for two months, dingleberry! (google it) But there you were, very self assuredly, gunning it and steering with one hand out into Los Angeles traffic like an old pro. I've been driving 30 years and I'm not sure even I could have done that in my nifty little SUV, let alone a Porsche (seriously...was it just me or did that sucker look like it was an automatic? Who the hell drives a Porsche that's an automatic? Fast foreign cars are supposed to be stick, not automatics!)

And, as long as I'm bitching at you, lemme ask another: Why is it you can dig deeply enough for a PORSCHE (and an ugly green one at that!) but not for a new pair of pants?

Oh, and one more thing...seriously, all this covert crap? Yeah, it's old. Old. O-L-D. You know you're shacking up, so pack a bag and both of you stay wherever it is your doing the deed. Don't frigging duck in and out, duck paparazzi where you KNOW they are going to be, then get all bent out of shape and pissed off because paparazzi were exactly where they always are and grit your teeth because you had to endure the onslaught to get to some clandestine meeting spot somewhere else after leaving the place you were trying to not be seen at in the first place.

Again, I say, Robert Pattinson, GROW. A. PAIR. You're 23, not 13. Suck it up and act like an adult!!

Whew...that felt even better than yesterdays RobRant! :D

I will give Robert points for one thing: Last night, at his pal Marcus Foster's show, he was lovely to a fan. She got a beautiful photo with him, and he gave her a huge smile. How classy you are when not under the influence, my muse....

OK...

Ok, here's the thing: I can't NOT like Robert...I am sort of BOUND to him.

You see, as a frustrated and as yet, unpublished writer, I needed a muse. The book I was writing was stalled. I had writers block in the worst possible way.

And then came Robert Pattinson.

Like a cool breeze over the mountains.

He inspired me and suddenly, it was all clear. The work flowed from me.

Without him, I cannot finish my work. So, you see, I am dependent on him. I may actually claim him on my 1040A this year.

So, I need to work through my issues in order to get back to work.

Here's what I'm going to do...I'm going to hash out all of my issues with him and his...uh...crack whore...


Ok, here's my issue: From before ever hearing the term "Robsten", I have not liked Kristen. I just get a vibe off the girl that she feels she's better than everyone. I got the vibe that she thinks she's better than even Robert. In some interviews and videos, to me, she seems annoyed that Twilight turned out to be all about Rob and not about her. I don't know why I got this vibe, or if it's only me that gets it, but 9 times out of 10, when I get a vibe like this, I am right. Anyway, after seeing photos of her sparking up a doobie outside an apartment in LA, a hotel in Vancouver and rolling a joint in plain sight at a restaurant in Italy (with Robert sitting right there, I might add), I really did not like her. I abhor drug use of any kind (most people who've had drug addiction within their families feel this way) and to see someone flaunting it in this manner to me is reprehensible.

Moreover, she just reminds me of the kind of girl you all knew in high school...the one who would sleep with the popular boy even though she didn't really care for him, just because she knew everyone else wanted him and she was the one with him. Yeah, that's why I think she likes Robert.

I just don't like her. I don't like that I feel she'll lead Rob down the garden path, and I don't like the drug use with or without Robert.

Now, Robert...I have many issues with you, my muse.

I'll start with the lessers and work my way up:

First off...WASH THE DAMN HAIR ALREADY! We get it...you are an Artiste! You aren't concerned with the same shallow, physical things the rest of Hollywood is concerned with. You are 'a guy'. We get it. Point taken. Now take a freakin' shower and wash the friggin' hair because I can smell you 3000 miles away!

And ditch that damn blue plaid shirt. You know the one...the one where you cut off the long sleeves to make them short sleeves. No one believes it was ever a short sleeve shirt, Rob. We all know you made it a short sleeve shirt yourself. How do we know? From the frayed edges and long threads dangling off of the poor snip job. While you are at it, please toss the following into my Weber Kettle BBQ: the mended Stoli shirt; the stained and mended blue/gray chino's with the sewn up knees that you've been doggin' since your Harry Potter days; both of your knit toques. They've got to stink from here to heaven and back again. Do your part for our environment and burn them both, please; those damn Nikes. You made kajillions for these last two movies. Spend some of it, and I don't mean going to Modell's to buy yet another cap to shove your greasy, odiferous locks under or yet another windbreaker like my 72 year old father wears. You don't have to go to Armani or Nordstrom. Just go to Old freakin' Navy and spend a couple bucks on a few pair of jeans so you don't have to dog the same pair day in and day out, staining the stains that are already there. Dude, do you stand those frigging jeans up in the corner of your room every night? I don't even want to think about the undies...I shudder at the thought...

Moving on...Robert...stop playing games. You are 23, not 13. Grow a damn ball and admit whether or not you are bumping uglies with her. I have little to no respect for people who are either in a relationship or are 'more than friends' and won't admit it for whatever reason. In Rob's case, I'd say his reasoning for not admitting would be because the fangirls would hate it. Since a large portion of his appeal is based on the fans, he'd really screw himself by admitting he's screwing her.

But still I don't like games, I don't like deception. And I hate the whole women-who-spend-the-night-with-a-guy-and-sneak-out-the-next-morning-in-the-night-before's-clothing. Robsten notwithstanding, women who do this tend to have an attitude of "I'm in control. I'm calling the shots. I'm independent and liberated". Uh...no, you are not. You are just giving him exactly what he wanted and he's smugly eating a burger while you're seen leaving in exactly what you were seen entering in the night before while the staff snickers behind your back. (This also brings up the question of what kind of a man lets this sort of scenario play out? One with little to no respect for the woman he's boinking?) Plus, you can't sit there and say with a straight face that if they did spend the night together at his hotel, she was unaware it was going to happen. Even Rob wouldn't be that gullible. It stinks to me of ready made PR. You don't go to a hotbed of paparazzi activity if you don't want to be seen. You go somewhere discrete. There are plenty of places you can go. One of the two has a place right in LA. There are TONS of hotels that the pap's aren't camped out in front of like they always are at Chateau. So, if you are going to be in a highly visible celebrity fish bowl, stop trying to sneak out like you don't know you're being photographed and aren't proud of yourself and your indiscrete indiscretions. Stop trying to pretend you're annoyed you've been spotted, because, clearly, if you didn't want to be seen, you'd have gone somewhere where you knew you wouldn't be seen.

And, Robert, I'm going to apply this to you too: Stop being all annoyed at the pap's for taking your photo as you walk/attempt to drive/try to run. You are staying at a hotel with a permanent paparazzi encampment at it. You've been there enough. You've been photographed there enough. You know what goes on there. Stay at the Four Seasons next time. Stay at a Marriott. Stay at Kristen's or rent a damn apartment yourself. Just stop acting pissed and annoyed when you walk right into their nest. You aren't Moses. The Red Sea is not going to part for you and your stinkin' Yankee cap.

And...that brings me to the last portion of my little rant that I'm going to direct right at Robert: You are wearing a NY Yankee cap~constantly. You were in NYC for 2 months. Did you ever even SEE a game? Even on TV? Can you even name the Yankee shortstop? Hmm?? Can you??? And...do you really think that NO ONE knows it's YOU under it?? It's been photographed in the last 2 months more than Derek freakin' Jeter has (do you even know who that is? I bet you don't....) Here...I'm gonna give you $250. Ask Pat Sajak if you can buy a clue.

/rant


Now...let's see if this works and my demons are exorcised....

Aaaannnnddd.....

....the bloom is off the rose!

Didn't take very long, did it?

What a difference a day makes!

Yesterday, I was all mushy and gushy. Today, not so much.

Sad to say, but I'm totally turned off now....

My 100th Post!

And they said it wouldn't last!

I've covered a lot of ground during my first 100 posts here on My Wckd Wckd Ways. I've covered a little somethin' somethin' of my Shepard Smith love...and a little somethin' somethin' of my Shepard Smith hate. I've covered my dirty little Mike Rowe love and come clean with a little bit of the Mike Rowe hate. Now I've moved on to the RPattz luv...can the hate be far behind?

So, what shall we talk about for my 100th post?

There's so much to say, and so precious little time to say it in (who am I kidding? I can type all night...but I doubt you'd continue reading, dear Constant Reader.

Oh wait!! I've covered my Rick Reichmuth luv and haven't ever, ever had any Reichmuth hate!! I still luvs me some of the Reichmuth...when I'm up early enough on weekends to catch his sexiness on FNC :D

But, enough of the past....let's move on to a bright new future.

Let's talk about ROBERT PATTINSON!

Robert, Rob, RPattz, Patty, Spunk Ransom, Teh Robbler...whatever you choose to call him, there's no denying that boy is H-O-T. That I could have birthed him during my Senior Formal in college does not enter into the equation~EVER! It spoils the fantasy that way.

I have currently a small yet growing pile of various magazines on the corner of the desk. All have one thing in common: photos of Robert Pattinson are contained therein. I have fetched magazines out of the recycle bin because they have one teeny tiny photo of Rob in them. I have a folder on the desktop of my MacBook Pro (the same computer that Robert Pattinson himself prefers, I might add) that says "Robert Pattinson". Essentially, all of the images that are on the pages of those magazines are also confined digitally to my little folder.

I have watched Twilight at least 6 times since discovering both it and Robert in early June. I have watched the movie, the movie with the commentary (Robert, seriously...get over your frickin' eyebrows!), the extra scenes, the making of, the becoming Edward thingy...I've watched it all, and still...it's not enough.

I watch YouTube videos (thank you, Sherry, for the Leno video which started the whole she-bang in the first place ;) ) I watch YouTube videos on my iPod touch when I'm away and find some wifi. I look at my own pink Yankee baseball cap and think "Why, it's almost identical to the one the Robinator has been wearing since he flimed here in my fair city...except for it's pink!", I pretend that those aren't sweat stains under his arms in some photos, and that it isn't dandruff on his shoulders...or grease in his hair.

I even made a special trip tonight to get the current Entertainment Weekly Magazine...because Robert is in it.

Yes, I am a woman somewhat obsessed with Robert Pattinson...and I KNOW I'm not alone! The only difference is I don't steal my child's copy of Tiger Beat for the poster :P

So, yes, I have made my 100th post about Robert Pattinson. Here's hoping the next 100 posts are all about the Rob~luv and not about the Rob~hate.

And now, for your viewing pleasure, the video that started the whole obsession off...Robert Pattinson on Leno:

After All, a Girl Needs a Hobby...

After months of resistance, I finally came around. I mean, you can only hear about it so many times before you finally heave a heavy sigh and look, just to shut some folk up.

As the Borg said, Resistance is futile.

I was hooked by the end of the first chapter. How can you not? You fall madly in love and you don't even know why. Edward Cullen dazzles you.

So it was that over Memorial Day weekend, having no money to be down shore, no plans other than drifting wherever the wind moved me, and, thanks to a head cold and miserably rainy weather, not much motivation to do much of anything, I found Edward Cullen. Happening upon a paper back edition of it in the CVS, I finally gave in to Ruby Anne's suggestions that I read Twilight. 72 hours later I found myself running through the raindrops in the parking lot of the Barnes & Nobel's, desperate to find the remaining 3 books in the trilogy, having devoured Twilight and the on line posting of the unfinished draft of Midnight Sun.

That's how I discovered Edward Cullen.

At the suggestion of no less than 3 very reputable friends, friends who shocked me with their devotion to a fictional teen age vampire, I ordered the dvd of the movie Twilight from Target...because it was only at Target that one could find the special 3 disc edition, you see. I waited impatiently until it shipped, and when it finally did arrive, I found my heart beating faster as I loaded the dvd player.

I already knew that the sloppily dressed, greasy haired English boy who played my divine Edward in the movie was not in any way, the image I had in my mind of MY Edward. Oh no, not at all. I'd seen photos of the lad. He was slight, scrawny, even, while MY Edward was a lean yet muscular god. MY Edward was neat, clean, and wore Armani. The English boy who played him? Looked like he needed a bath and directions to a good dry cleaner.

So, imagine my surprise when I found that, while physically, movie Edward was not what I had envisioned in my mind, he was the emotional embodiment of MY Edward. Edward's soul twisted and turned in Robert Pattinson's portrayal.

And so it came to pass that Edward Cullen led me to Robert Pattinson, my new hobby.

Yes, he's 22 years younger than me...but he is legal in all 50 states and Canada.

Yes, he's hygienically challenged, but wouldn't getting him clean be half the fun of it?

Yes, he's a terrible dresser. He can't button a shirt. He mends t shirts that deserve to be burned. He wears too tight, too short suit jackets. He wears those God awful Nike's everywhere. He wears wind breakers that look like he stole them from my father...and he wears them in 80 degree weather. But, the only thing that all of this means is that he'd have to be stripped down in order for me to rebuild and redefine his...uh...style.

Yes, he's English...but he does have an amazingly self effacing wit and fabulously hairy body, much to my surprise!

And, yes, this does make me a cougar, but it makes the rest of my friends, all the most wonderful people on earth, cougars as well, so I'm in very good company :D

Now, having read all 4 books of the Twilight Saga, as well as the unfinished transcript, and after repeated viewings of the Twilight dvd (with and without the hilariously funny commentary) I sit and wait impatiently for the November 20 release of the second film adaptation in the saga, New Moon, so that I can be with MY Edward again....


















Yeah...I know...I need a new hobby :D

When You Start Believing Your Own Press...

Those of you who know me, know that, for a long time, I was a huge fan of Shepard Smith.

I say "was" because, I simply can no longer watch this man.

I noticed it a while back...around the time he signed his big cushy contract. He'd started changing a little before, in fact. Maybe bolstered by the idea that networks were perhaps interested in him? Whatever the case, I started to see a change in him early on. He'd already ticked me off with his continually referring to himself as "a New Yorker" while bellowing how he was a proud Mississippian. No, you are one or the other. You are not both. At least not in THIS city, bucko.

I can't even put into words what it was. Perhaps an attitude, an arrogance.

It seemed that, suddenly, Shepard Smith thought that HE was more important than the story.

Before that, I would tape both his 3pm and his 7pm broadcasts, and watch with interest each night. Shepard was bright, funny and interesting. He did what he said he would do: read the news without bias. No editorializing there!

This was why I liked Shepard Smith.

But as soon as I saw the change in him, I knew it. It was the same change I'd seen years earlier, when MSNBC anchor, and my favorite newsman at the time, Brian Williams, was tapped to replace Tom Brokaw. There was a sudden air of arrogance, a conveyance that he was better than I was.

The same change that I sadly saw in Shepard Smith.

It started out small...Shepard editorializing this small story or that. Jumping in over other reporters, yelling to get his voice heard first. The way he'd talk over the car chases he is so fond of showing.

But then it started to escalate. Shepard began to editorialize and give his opinions on THE NEWS.

How can you sit there, and say you deliver the NEWS, fair and balanced, when you are interjecting your opinions, be it a sarcastic snicker, or a scoffing laugh.

It got so that I would turn him off midway thru the broadcast.

And it really shone thru during the elections.

I realized that Shepard Smith was no longer a NEWS man and had moved on to news ANALYST when, during the election he made a statement about how the South was going to show how far it had come by electing a black man. THAT, Mr. Smith, is YOUR opinion, not a news fact.

It got particularly bad during the election, when Shepard continually allowed his partisanship to show. We got it, Shep. You were for Obama. Your point was driven home.

After the election, he actually stated that he saw absolutely no media bias during the election.

Huh?

I'm guessing he never picked up a copy of the New York Times during those months, of flipped on any of the major networks newscasts or snuck a peek at his cable counterparts. I guess that, during this past election cycle, Shepard Smith lived in a bubble.

I knew it was completely over for me where Shepard was concerned when I heard him mocking Glenn Beck. Now, I don't watch Glenn. I'm sure he's a nice enough fellow, and from what I've seen of him, he has said some things I can agree with~and plenty I can't, but that is neither here or there. It's the idea that he was openly mocking the man, in front of him, right on television. That's just cruel.

Now comes word of Shepard dropping yet another expletive live on the air, this time on the Strategy Room, FNC's internet based show. Shepard, opposed to the 'torture' that is waterboarding, had a melt down. Too bad Glenn Beck wasn't there to mock him...odds are good old Shep wouldn't like it very much once the shoe was on the other foot.

(And this brings me to one other point...waterboarding. By the definition of torture in the Geneva Convention, waterboarding is NOT torture. I think that everyone screaming that it IS torture (and citing the Geneva Convention while doing so), including that dim bulb in the chandelier masquerading as our Commander in Chief, fails to realize this. Or perhaps our new clueless administration doesn't want them to realize it....kind of like the old fable about the Emperor's New Clothes...once they opened their eyes and actually saw what was in front of them, they failed to believe. I think that is a huge fear of this administration and the reason our new President has been campaigning for reelection for the last 100 days. No one out there screaming that waterboarding is torture has ever been thru waterboarding. They are calling it torture because they are being told that it IS torture, so they blindly believe and follow...independent thought is a dangerous thing to a naked emperor...but I digress...)

Back to the post at hand...

When you are so fond of saying that "this is the news, fair and balanced" and want to brag about how you DELIVER THE NEWS, then perhaps you should DELIVER THE NEWS, not your opinions. Sadly, you'll no longer get THE NEWS from Shepard Smith. Sad, really. He was the last evening broadcast I could get actual NEWS on. Now, I'll have to try to catch Trace Gallagher for the news.

I'll end my rant here, and also note here that I reserve the right to edit or delete any posts that are made in this blog.

Missed a Month?!

How'd I do that?? Not post for a month?

Well, probably because I've been rather preoccupied by other things in real life, and as such, haven't had much to say.

So, since I'm sure so many of you have been chomping at the bit for more of my Random Musings, I'll toss you a bone....


~ Is it just me, or does LOST just get better and better??

~ Why is it the people who really have no good reason to be full of themselves usually are the ones who ARE full of themselves?

~ Trampy girls...why do they always seem to get whatever they want?

~ New show Castle...I want to like it...but I don't.

~ Just Born brand jelly beans are yummy and addictive!!

~ I actually enjoyed last night's episode of Dirty Jobs...sled dogging in Alaska done especially for Discovery Channel's Alaska Week. TV's Mike Rowe wasn't nearly as annoying as he's been lately!

~ Rick Reichmuth...he makes me smile. Rick Reichmuth in a fancy black sports car makes me smile even more :D

~ the hurrieder I go, the behinder I get

~ Does anyone know ANYONE who enjoys going to the grocery store?

~ I really miss Seinfeld.

~ I'm still trying to figure out exactly what it was that made me find Shepard Smith attractive.

~ Deadliest Catch returns tomorrow! Can you say EXCITING?!!!

~ My new iPod Touch is awesome!

~ Captain Jonathan Hillstrand...'nuff said

Your Tax Dollars In Action!

As many bloggers do, I have a little site counter attached to this blog, where I can see where my hits are coming from. It's so interesting to see hits from Europe reading my post about the private Eric Clapton concert I attended (many thanks to the Eric Clapton Portal for posting the link!) and to see how many people are googling TV's Mike Rowe and his latest venture, mikeroweWorks.

Sometimes, I get a little surprise...like, tonight.

Many times, the name of the company that the hit is coming from shows up on the counter. I've seen some large corporations, colleges and universities, among others. I've even had hits from government offices.

But, imagine my surprise tonight when I took a hit from none other than Fannie Mae! That's right! The embattled mortgage company that we, as taxpayers, have to bail out. It's good to see my tax dollars in action, as someone who's being paid with my hard earned money is sitting there, goofing off, googling about who designed a certain website. It's good to see that, even though I had to take a 10% pay reduction at my job because of the real estate crisis (created, in part, thanks to Fannie Mae and the sub-prime mortgage fiasco) that someone gainfully employed at Fannie saw fit to mess around on the internet while probably still earning the same salary they earned prior to this financial meltdown.

So, if I may be so bold, I would like to ask the Federal Government for some of my tax dollars back. Specifically, I'd like the money that was paid to this person who saw fit to waste the hard earned and dwindling cash that I am paying them in order to ensure that they retain a job and our country's economy doesn't implode on itself under the weight of bad loans made by their employer.

Maybe it's time we started demanding accountability for our money from these institutions if we are going to be spending our hard earned money to save them. Something to think about....

S-A-T-U-R-D-A-Y NIGHT!!

Once upon a time, I was a young pre-teen girl, reading Tiger Beat and 16 Magazine...for the pics of my faves, you know ;)

Things were very different back then. The articles in these publications were sugar coated pabulum designed more to sell record albums and drive up TV show ratings rather than give you the real poop on those faves who's pics lined your bedroom walls. Not that we knew otherwise. We were more than happy to think our teen idols were as squeeky clean as we were!

Anyway, like most of the rest of the girls my age at that time, I was sort of outgrowing Donny & Marie (does anyone ever really outgrow Donny Osmond? Seriously...the man's a grandfather and I'd STILL do him in a heartbeat!) and looking for more 'grown up' music. I found that sound in the voice of Les McKeown, lead singer for The Bay City Rollers. No, they weren't from Bay City, Michigan. These five lads were from Edinburgh, Scottland, and they had the tartan to prove it! The lineup consisted of the afore mentioned Les, lead singer and the driving force in heartthrob, guitarists Woody Wood, Eric Faulkner, bassist Alan Longmuir and his drum playing blond brother with the little Dutch Boy hair cut, Derek. Alan later left the band (which he and Derek had actually founded as The Saxons) and was replaced by Ian Mitchell...but more on him later.

Now, you're going to think I'm weird (unless you already thought I was, and, in that case, this does not strike you as odd at all) but I just went up into the top of my closet shelf where all that 'stuff' lives. You know that 'stuff'...the stuff you just can't bring yourself to part with. The prom corsage, the gift a sweet boy you had a secret crush on gave you at your 12th birthday party, a postcard from a long forgotten friend...that 'stuff'. I have my grandmother's old jewelry box up there with some of this 'stuff' in it. There's a little adjustable ring with a distelfink on it, a NYC subway token, a pendant with my name twisted in silver wire that I got at a long gone fair, beaded earrings from the 1980's, a high school yearbook photo of me, and some ticket stubs from NY Ranger hockey games at Madison Square Garden.

There is another ticket stub in there. It's hot pink and it says SECTION 204 ROW B SEAT 12. It's dated May 9, 1977 and it's face value is a whopping $8.00. It was from my very first concert...The Bay City Rollers.

Yes, I had the Rollermania bad, though not as bad as some of those at that show. There were girls with their hair cut like Woody and Eric, wearing the same style ankle high pants with tartan around the cuffs, wearing tartan scarves around their necks. Before the Rollers, I'd always called it 'plaid'. My school uniform as plaid. But the Rollers wore TARTAN!

I went to the show with my cousins Diane, Maria and Joanne. Joanne had graduated high school and was working at the time. She waited in line on her lunch hour at the box office for the tickets. By the time she got up to the window, all that were left were singles. She did, however, manage to get two fairly good seats together. My mother was somehow elected as 'the parent' to bring us. She took the worst seat. Maria was OVER THERE, and Joanne was WAY OVER THERE. Diane and I had two choice seats on the aisle. We sat there, like two little ladies, in our jeans, sneakers and cute girl tshirts, like two little ladies, while the girl with the Eric Faulkner haircut sitting next to us explained how we'd need to sit back when the music started so she could rush the stage. This was our first concert. We thought it was going to be like a play. Everyone sits nicely and enjoys.

Wow, were WE idiots!

If I recall correctly, the 'opening act' was a clown...yes...a clown. We really didn't pay attention, since we were in awe of the Faulkner~headed girl. Her mother actually let her cut her hair that way? And where did she get pants LIKE THE ROLLERS WORE?! We looked at our Toughskins and Keds with embarrassment. We were failures as fans.

Then, the lights dimmed and the music started! IT WAS TIME FOR THE BAY CITY ROLLERS!

As if on cue, the Eric Faulkner girl charged the stage~along with just about every other girl in the audience. Diane and I looked at each other, embraced and screamed as only 12 year old girls can. It was almost as ear piercing as the music!

Suddenly, there was my mother in front of us. With a mighty index finger in our faces she said "I'll be in the lobby. DON'T MOVE" And she was gone. In an attempt to see better, we sat our butts on the top of our chairs, ensuring a much better view, and continued to scream.

We screamed for an hour.

And when it was over, we went home, dazed, deaf and hoarse.

So, tonight, I perused YouTube, and thru the magic of the internet, I got to experience Rollermania once again...


Ah...Dedication with Ian Mitchell on lead vocal. Here's how it went: Ian replaced Alan in the original line up, and Diane and I fell in love immediately. Looking back, I can't help but wonder why. Then again, we were kids, and so was he. Ian was all of 17 at the time he sang this song. Anyway, we were soooo excited to be seeing OUR IAN at the concert. In the weeks leading up to the show, we would look at the glossy pictures of the Rollers in Tiger Beat and 16 and sigh, knowing soon enough, we'd be in the same room as our sweet Ian. Then we read it: BREAKING NEWS IN 16 MAGAZINE! IAN IS OUT OF BCR!! Our pre~teen hearts broke into a thousand pieces! No Ian?! Who would sing Dedication?! There were only 4 Rollers at our show...but who even remembers the music? :D

It Ought To Be A Law...

What with our new president signing nonsense into law, I figured he could sign another frivolous one into law as well, as long has he's in a singing mood:

Let it be known throughout the land that Rick Reichmuth, meteorologist for FoxNews, must never, ever cover up by wearing a suit while giving the forecast. Instead, he must always wear these jeans and a snug polo shirt:



Then we can all sing the "I'm Just a Bill" song from the old Schoolhouse Rock series :D

As I've said before, this is what's sexy, and right now, I need all the sexy I can get in my life.

Sorry for scamming the pic from our facebook, Rick...please consider it a birthday gift from you to moi * bats eyelashes provocatively at The Reichmuth *

The Lesson of Icarus

Perhaps, dear Constant Reader, you remember the Greek myth of Icarus from a long ago school lesson. Perhaps not.

In any event, I am going to use my first entry of the new year to demonstrate to you why it is so important that we never forget history, as we become doomed to repeat it.

Icarus was the son of a gifted craftsman named Daedalus. Daedalus had created a labyrinth for King Minos where the Minotaur was to be imprisoned. Daedalus and his son Icarus were exiled to the island of Crete after the King discovered that Daedalus had helped the Minotaur to escape. In an effort to escape their exile, Daedalus fashioned a pair of wings on which he and Icarus were to fly away on out of wax and feathers. But, the father warned his son, that if he flew too low, moisture would weigh down the wings, and if he flew too high, the sun would surely scorch them. Travel between the two extremes, he cautioned.

Of course, you know how this ended. Tragically, as most Greek stories do, with the boy so delighted in his freedom of flight that he soared ever so high, allowing the heat from the sun to melt his waxen wings and sending the boy crashing to his death.

The lesson gleaned fro this fable is to remember not to get too close to the sun, as you may very well be burned.

How true this lesson is, even today.

Only today's entry is about celebrity and how what we see isn't always reality. Celebrity, for what it is worth, is little more than smoke and mirrors, with heavy editing involved so we see only what our celebrity of choice wishes us to see. It's nothing new. It's gone on as long as man has existed. But it is only when we get too close that we begin to see the cracks in the facade, where the truth has a tendency to ooze out a bit, if you pay attention closely.

Obviously, I did not pay enough attention in class when we were reviewing this myth. Perhaps, if I had, I would have avoided any involvement with the message boards of TV's Mike Rowe. Perhaps, if I had, I wouldn't have been so disappointed in what I've come to realized of late, and that is that the internet version of Mike is perhaps the real version of Mike, and that maybe the TV version of Mike is really only culled together by directors and editors. Charm and charisma can only hide so much, I'm afraid. Eventually, you start to see things and become aware of the truth.

Likewise, it appears that only a certain kind of "fan" is acceptable on the afore mentioned message boards. Only a certain kind of pandering and gushing warranting any sort of tip of the hat from the object of their desire. All others are left to swing in the wind at the mercy of the hungry vipers who fancy themselves to be the chosen ones. Some are ignored completely, apparently so offensive in their daring to be seen and heard that they are never to be spoken to, only about in thinly veiled ways. Others are berated and belittled publicly in order to pay for their grand sin of attempting to talk to TV's Mike Rowe. The remaining few who maybe have working brains and are able to think for themselves are left to fight for their rights to keep their opinions, as while the chosen are entitled to have them, those with brains clearly are not.

Sad, really, as this is a man who has, within the last 6 months, embarked on a crusade of sorts to highlight the need our country has for skilled laborers. Of course, you won't find any evidence of this on the website that bears his name and was apparently born for that express intention, as it has devolved and has become little more than a place for the faithful to vie for attention, agreeing with everything Rowe and a few "key" disciples say. They then snipe at other interlopers who dare attempt to feel a little bit of the sunshine that is Mike Rowe on their faces, regardless of the validity or importance of the post in question. The fact that the fearless leader is self admittedly at a loss for what his project even is holds no concerns, as to question would surely put one on the fast track to being viewed in an unfavorable light. Instead, the sniping at key offenders, the gushing at chosen postings, the orgasmic postings around anything from The Master instead continues.

So, I heave a heavy sigh, dear Constant Reader, for as they say, the best of intentions do go awry. I flew too close to the sun, it seems, and as the wax melted, I saw it for what it really was.