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Tuesday, November 29, 2011

Occupy This

At this point, I think that it's probably safe to say that most Americans are familiar with the "Occupy Wall Street" movement that's been going on. What I think is a little more difficult to determine is exactly how to define the "Occupy" movement's motives or ultimate goals (and believe me, I've read their "list of demands").


I think that it's also safe for me to say that I don't know nearly enough about this protest. I don't completely understand the whole 99% business, or who exactly is at fault in their eyes (the government? big business? banks? war? religion?). And that is most certainly a lacking on my part to do proper research. 

I basically say all of this to preface the fact that I want to talk about a very specific observation made that I feel is entirely indicative of a much larger-scale problem. A problem that is affecting this very public, very political outcry and is almost solely the reason for its ultimate failure. 

Extremism. Extremism is why this movement will fail. I believe that extremism is why most political disputes fail, on either side.  It's a problem of "bad eggs," so to speak. About one person ruining it for all of the others. For example, Christianity, as a whole, is good. The basic teachings, the beliefs, the commands. But then extremism comes along with a couple of self-professing Christians who persecute, judge, and condemn others, and it's ruined. Christianity gets a bad rap because of a few "bad eggs." Now, when someone wants to attack Christianity, they cite those few bad eggs and it kills an otherwise quality rebuttal.

This is the same issue plaguing "Occupy Wall Street." Their quality argument is that the majority of them aren't mooches. They don't feel entitled. They aren't looking for a hand-out. They are simply tired of busting their asses at menial jobs (if they are lucky enough to have one) for menial pay, only to continue to accrue more debt and live more fearfully; fearful over the well-being of their families, over the loss of their homes, over their bank accounts. They are tired of feeling like, even after all of their hard work, if it's still barely enough to stay afloat, instead of their government stepping into to give them a boost, they are funneling money to the already wealthy.

Here is where the problem lies: the few who are mooches. The few who do feel entitled. The few who are looking for a hand-out. The few who expect a hand-out. The few who don't work hard, have no intentions of working hard, and who gladly, without a drop of remorse, nor gratitude, lean on the system. Take advantage. Expect others to pick up their slack. Expect to be rewarded simply because they have a little and you have a lot, and it's only fair if you share. Ironically enough, they create the flaw in their own argument.


The 1%ers don't feel any obligation to "share" with these few. And who would? If person "X" works hard their entire life (or even doesn't work hard, say their family worked hard and it's been inherited) to accrue a reasonable/unreasonable amount of wealth, why would person "X" feel obligated to give it to person "Y," someone who doesn't work hard, wouldn't appreciate it, and is indeed repulsed by the very notion that you don't just automatically know that it should be given them. There truly and genuinely are people out there who think like this. Who do have this inflated sense of entitlement. Who use and abuse and take advantage of any amount of generosity that there is in the world. And they do so ungratefully and shamelessly. They kill everyone's sense of altruism and good-will-among-men rhetoric. They are the "bad eggs" that ruin it for everyone. 

This is the basic principle for why welfare recipients in certain states are being drug tested now. The majority are most likely struggling small families who need that money to survive, and it's barely enough to do that. Families that most likely work hard for a measly paycheck. But there is also a minority that abuses that system. That receives welfare and blows it on drugs or alcohol. That chooses to feed their habit rather than their children. And they instantly ruin it for everyone else. Make it more difficult for the people who really need it, to get it.

And unfortunately, this is why "Occupy Wall Street" will fail, as well. It's impossible not to include the moochers in with the 99%, and they are the first citation for opposing arguments. And how can you defeat those citations? When alas, they are but sadly, sadly true.

Wednesday, November 23, 2011

Always Reaching

Someone told me the other day that I reminded them of Twiggy. I think that that was one of the nicest compliments I've ever received (incidentally, the nicest compliment was when an elderly gentleman approached me at Publix and whispered to me, "If my old lady looked as good as you, I'd keep her locked up at home.").

Twiggy is stunning, even today. But Twiggy circa 1960's is a goddess.



 Mia Farrow circa 1960's is exquisite, as well. 


There is something about big eyes and short hair that is breathtaking. I aspire to be even a quarter as beautiful as these women.

Wednesday, November 2, 2011

How Blessed Am I?!

I think it's about time that I tell you a little bit about the first man that I ever loved. A man whose kindness and caring are insurmountable. A man who has never failed to impress or amaze.

His name is Dad.

This was my dad before he was my dad. Could he have ever guessed at this point in his life just how much a little girl would eventually love and adore him?

It was love at first sight. Regardless of the fact that I was just being born and can't quite recall precisely how I felt at the time, I can tell you that 100%, without a doubt, I loved my father and he loved me. Unconditionally.

The above picture is my absolute favorite. It's so 70's and techie and adorable. He and I have had a few discussions about this before, but I still couldn't even begin to tell you what purpose those instruments serve. Something to do with physics or radiation or something...maybe? My father works for a nuclear plant, and since you can't exactly pop in for a visit, I feel like I've always had an extremely skewed vision of what he does there. In my head, it's somewhere between Homer's job at the Springfield nuclear plant on the Simpsons, and some sort of top-secret, highly-dangerous laboratory that is forever teetering on the edge of destroying us all.

This is what my dad's office looks like in my head.
While that picture of him is definitely one of my favorites, this photograph is the epitome of my father:


If I had to give you a singular image of how I view my dad, this would be the one. This photograph just screams so much of him to me. It tells so much. It reminds me of every little part of him. From the blue "Bingo" grill plate on the wall--which reminds me of his past, and how much of a bad-ass he was growing up, all the way down to the poor, dismantled Teddy Ruxpin--which reminds me of where I get my twisted sense of humor. Not to mention the obvious, which is that my father can build or fix ANYTHING. He has a tool for every need. He is incredible.

I write all of this because I am constantly reminded of how blessed and lucky I am. Reminded of how much this man means to me and just how much he loves me. This past Sunday, my dad drove up to Atlanta to take care of some things in my condo for me. It was his only day off.

Among some of the things that he installed/repaired/fixed/adjusted were: starting the pilot light on my fireplace, fixing my backdoor so that it actually closes now, reversing the hot/cold on my shower so that the correct temperature is now associated with the correct handle position, purchasing and installing two beautiful light fixtures (and there would have been a third if he had an appropriate ladder), installing a towel-bar in my half-bathroom, and installing a TP holder in my bathroom. 

Just look at that handy work! Did I mention that my father is amazing? Incredible? It's honestly the truth. And I don't mean to keep bragging, it's just that he's the greatest and he's mine.

When he does things like this, coming up to fix and install all of the stuff that I'm too stupid to figure out, it always reminds me of an episode of Boy Meets World. Just watch the first minute-and-a-half of this video, because it captures, in a nutshell, just how I feel about my daddy.

"You work all day, then you come and work some more. And then you do my work. You're hogging all the work!"
 
"It's like he's Superman. Superman's my dad."