Random Rants and One Whimsy

6:51 PM Tuesday Night
My Home

Mulder and Scully should be called at once; a helicopter hovered over my area for a few minutes last night. It resembled very much an alien vessel as it hovered just beyond the tall cedars causing even at that distance, their limbs to gently sway. The dog and children jumped up and down excitedly while briefly images of the TV show Jericho flashed in my mind. Just as quickly as it appeared the helicopter went away, lost in a sea of clouds and trees, only the sound remaining.

I watched the evening but no reports of the helicopter were reported, I guess they don't care much what goes on in lost cow territory.

Blame NASA

I've now come up with a new conspiracy theory about the whole Anna Nicole thing and it's probably as ludicrous as what really happened, which likely we'll never know about. AbbyNormal, in a comment on the last post, reminded me about the Astronaut that drove a thousand miles, while wearing an adult diaper, to confront the girlfriend of the man she was obsessed with. That happened just before the whole Anna Nicole is dead thing, and leads me now to think about how serendipitously well-timed NASA was as that story took Astronaut debacle off the front page. I wonder if NASA at the very least sent flowers or something to the baby, but I also began to muse that maybe it was NASA that had her eliminated. Really if they can put a man on the moon, certainly they can figure out a way to kill off a woman who is admittedly a train wreck. It does make me wonder with my tongue planted firmly in cheek.

Why I've Grown to Hate PodCasts

Maybe it's because I don't have a long commute and I'm not in my car very long during the day, or maybe it's because I prefer to read. I haven't really narrowed the field down any further, but I've grown to hate PodCasts given by pseudo-expert wannabes with an over-inflated sense of ego and purpose. The people doing this, often starved for attention anyway, and passionate that they have something worthwhile to share, often become egotistical about what they do. I caught about 10 minutes one day of a "podcast" about something I don't care to mention here but learned nothing that I didn't already know and found the banter between three "hosts" to be downright annoying. Their attitudes and the name-dropping lost any real information I was trying to glean. If I had heard one more time the name someone being a personal friend of so and so, I was seriously going to vomit. Instead I decided to turn it off.

While I'm on the Subject of Things I Hate

I might as well admit the so-called freelance writers out there with blogs that include the little donation box also annoy me. You know the ones that say they pour their heart and soul into each post as though they'd just given birth. What the fuck? Quit your whining and grow up, you do it for yourself and because you like it, otherwise why bother. They might have been "published" in a few periodicals with limited readership but again, who the fuck cares? If you're doing it in the hopes that you'll turn a buck because you can't afford to feed your family get a real fucking job ass-wipe. If you've already got a real fucking job, then count your blessings, have a Coke and a smile and shut the fuck up. Don't try to convince me into the notion that you'd like a couple bucks because if I enjoy reading your blog. No fucking better than a televangelist, asking for "donations" to keep their show on the air, while wearing their nice suits and praising god that they paid their electric bills.

You can tell when things really piss me off when I start using fuck a lot, can't you?

Changing Seasons

As some have noticed in the recent months my blog, especially following a respite from blogging, has taken on a new direction—well, maybe not exactly a new direction entirely. Over the past year, I've blogged less often about the children and husband, and more about other events that catch my eye. In part because the children are growing up and the web being what it is, it just doesn't feel right anymore. I'm also going to do a little housekeeping on the blog, so stay tuned.

© 2007 Whimsical Ranter
All Rights Reserved

Enough Already

Clip Me Baby One More Time (Also From the Big Fucking Deal File)

The princess of pop (read crap) has shaved her head, apparently to coordinate with her twat, got tattooed, and nearly missed her plane. She whined to the ticket counter that she had to see her boys. As if she gives a shit about her fucking boys because if she did, she would be there taking care of them not fucking partying around the fucking country with that equally dumb bitch Paris Hilton. She's out of control, the headlines read. Who cares? She's a fucking dumbshit! I can't believe that her equally dumb so to be ex husband was really the smart one in that couple. He's handed her the rope, and she's hung herself with it. And all the crocodile tears won't change it.

The Lead Story

Every fucking channel's lead story still is the fucking Anna Nicole crap that seems as endless as the men stepping claiming to be the baby's father. I'm still thinking her lawyer/boyfriend/toady whatever he was, has some serious questions to answer like why her will still had her son on it. And don't give me that, she was too distraught bullshit either. All she had to do was sign her name on a fucking cocktail napkin. If she was well enough to hold that fake wedding and swim, she was certainly well enough to do that.

That said, Howie just as executor does stand to get some money out of the deal, regardless of who gets the real assets. I'm sure he's sleeping well. Two down; just one to go.

News From Here

Which is not nearly as exciting as what CNN turned tabloid TV would report. My kitchen is sty, and any minute I'm expecting the health department to show up and put up yellow tape around it. We spent the whole weekend doing stuff. Stuff that obviously kept me from cleaning the kitchen like getting thoroughly loaded on Friday night, which was fun, and the ever popular getting up hideously early in the morning (read 9:30 AM) to go shopping with mom in law.

Rainbird was stuck taking the boys to the custom car show. I'm not sure who got the better end, but at least I was home by noon after a marathon-shopping trip. I even ran through Target and didn't spend any time looking at anything other than what my throbbing head would allow. I spent a lot of time on the pain reliever aisle; I also spent a lot of time remembering how to spell the word "aisle" I kept coming up with isle. I'm amazed at how many people confuse the two just look at google and you'll see hits like "Isles and Isles of RV's". I don't think that's what they meant to say but maybe they do mean small islands or peninsulas.

I've now digressed so far off topic I can't even recall where I was going with this. Lets change topics.

Moving Right Along

I just visited Abby Normal's blog and got a huge laugh regarding her manboob post…I won't spoil it for you but you can read it for yourself here.

A friend wrote me an email saying her daughter watches Full House. I must confess Fredo watches that show on nick at night when he doesn't have school the next day. I think he likes Michelle on the show. Pissboy will even watch it sometimes; he commented that he thought that Fredo thought Michelle was hot. I, in turn, showed him a picture of the Olson twins now.

He couldn't watch the show anymore, found it too disturbing. Uh huh, now who thinks Michelle is hot?

Jamie Sommers (aka the Bionic Woman) has taken on not only a Bionic Baby but also now she's taken on the Bionic Bison, a currently 30 lb, English Mastiff puppy.

Y2K.2?

My computer is informing me that it's updating the new Daylight Savings Time, which is just another thing to thank Congress and our fearless leader for. What exactly is the point to changing the time change anyway? I would much rather they just left the time alone, one or the other thank you and stop this silly switching back and forth all together. How much in resources and manpower is being spent on fixing this problem that the Fed for whatever their meager reasons felt it necessary to annoy the public in an unfair way.

Must they always pass laws or edicts that have serious impact with our day-to-day lives without so much as asking about the impact of their actions?

I wonder if Pat Robertson is touting that people buy generators for this debacle?

© 2007 Whimsical Ranter
All Rights Reserved

They Should be Ashamed

I'm so angry I'm seeing red over this. Shamelessly lifted from Bumble's blog because I'm too fucking livid to write something about it on my own. Bumble's Bog

Please take the time to review the link and subsequent links and scream at the top your lungs to all government officials, "I'm mad as hell and not going to take it anymore!"


© 2007 Whimsical Ranter
All Rights Reserved

Finally Something Truly Blogworthy

Was it Fate?

My life has been pretty dull lately, not a lot of blog worthy activities. It's not that I'm bored with it; it's just that nothing exciting is going on. Day to day life gets dull; well it was dull until I wrote out a whole blog about how ridiculous the far right has been over the whole Nancy Pelosi plane thing. She can ask for the moon, I wrote in the previous post, prepared to spend the day watching the news picking up blog bites, but it doesn't mean she'll get it. Get over it. Anyway that's the thrust. Then around 12:30 PST, the news broke about Ana Nicole Smith being rushed to the hospital unconscious.

My first thought was big fucking deal. Later, they said she had a cardiac episode, possibly intubated and someone was seen performing CPR on her. They also noted a news conference was scheduled about an hour from then. I thought then, she's dead.

She was. The former fast food worker, turned Playboy bunny, turned pole dancer, turned married to 80-something billionaire, turned grieving widow, turned…

Oh you get it.

But There Must Be a Conspiracy

Everything today must have a conspiracy theory…so here is mine. The lawyer who was present in the hospital when her son died, actually murdered him, and later killed her for her money. There I said it. He didn't anticipate the paternity thing so if I were the guy claiming to be the baby's daddy, I'd be kinda scared that the lawyer of death doesn't pay me any visits.

What Is Actually Plausible

A drug overdose is too simple, however likely but since we're still speculating, then lets really do some reaching. Let's say Nicole was worried about losing custody of her infant daughter because…well…. she's a train-wreck. The man claiming to be the baby's father (where the hell is Maury and his damn Who's Your Daddy, DNA guy when we really need him) said that Ms Smith had methadone in her body when she delivered said baby. Naturally, the baby was born with it in her system too. Now, it should be said that there is no proof of this, but it's not too hard to believe given everything we do know about her. Baby daddy number 2 claims that Ms Smith is unfit, excuse me a moment while I control my laughter, and want to prove he is the father and wants custody. She would be required to appear in court at some point, and considering her wonderful interview skills, my next theory becomes more even more plausible.

I remember watching the footage of her interviews after testifying before the Supreme Court during her, give me my 18 months worth of blood money for sleeping with that cold handed old coot, she seemed more normal than usual, and dare I say together. Despite the fact of all the crocodile tears she shed. Someone grumbled then to me that she went through detox before that appearance to gain certain lucidity. Watching it on TV, and then seeing her again on TV a few days after that it was like the mirror had two faces. One lucid, and the other under the influence of something likely illegal and that was the image that stuck with me, when watching the "Big News" unfold today.

I think she traveled with the nurse (incidentally according to police the nurse didn't perform CPR on Ms Smith, but the bodyguard did, interesting huh?) to do some kind of funky rapid detox on her in that hotel room. Cardiac arrest is actually a side effect of that type of detox, and it's normally not very successful outside of formal clinical settings since it deals only with the physical aspects of the addiction but none of the mental. I think the nurse panicked called screamed that Smith was unconscious; the bodyguard rushed in and started CPR (which is done alone now according to the new rules), probably shouted for the nurse to call 911. All the while, the lawyer boyfriend/husband sitting on the edge of the bed hiding the hypodermic needles and planning how he would inform the media of her quick demise, while maybe text messaging the Bahamas to tell the nanny not allow anyone to see the baby, if contacted.

Okay that last line I have no clue about, but the rest could have happened that way. I don't know, something inside just feels it’s a little weird that he was there when Smith's son died, and he was there supposedly when she died. Maybe he's just very unlucky?

In any event what really cracks me up are the comparisons to people like Marilyn Monroe and the discussion of how tragic it all is. I'm sorry but tragic was 9-11, the war in Iraq, Nancy Pelosi squeezing her fat ass into a small plane, not Anna Nicole Smith. I'm sorry to say but I doubt it will take a year for her memory to be erased from the media entirely. No one will be lighting candles or migrating to the hotel where she died. Her DVDs of her reality show will go unsold because, lets be honest, when she was alive it was a good joke but no one wants to watch drug induced train wreck going on about how she's not fat when she clearly is after they've died. It's just not that funny anymore.

But lets face it she wasn't that funny when she was alive.

But What of Her Daughter?

It may sound cruel, but considering Ms Smith's life, her son's life, etc., I'd say she's better off without her mother; maybe not a whole lot, but honestly better off. That is the real tragedy of Anna Nicole Smith.

© 2007 Whimsical Ranter
All Rights Reserved