Born in the USA

I used to think it was a blessing to live in America. That I was one of the luckiest citizens of the planet to be born in such a country. An almost pre-ordained, God-given birthright. That I was blessed. That our nation was blessed. But I am a product of this environment. What else would I believe? Almost a century of “work hard, buy a house, use credit.” But it doesn’t work for everyone.

And what does that get you? America has become the abhorrent opposite of Christianity. Christianity is about sharing, loving, caring for the least, the poor, the fatherless, the widows. America is about securing your own property and power. And the difference between poor and rich is growing out of control.

I don’t know what it’s like to be anywhere else. Rugged individualism is only a value if you are raised in such a world. I was shown the commercial for America. I believed it. “Shut up and take my money.” I believed it was the best because that’s what we tell the world. The ideal is to live here. Immigrants pouring across the border for safety and wealth.

I don’t want to trade places, but I don’t mind sharing. I need healthcare, clean water, access to schools and freedom to move. Protection for my child. So do they.

If we can’t evolve as a society/country to accommodate those in need, then we have no business to point to our manifest destiny. We have become corrupt and require modification. Our entire country was formed on the crushing of Native Americans. There is still sentiment in this country, of those in power, that we can take what we want, benefit ourselves in the present, with no concern for the future. That should change.

We need to move/evolve from deregulated capitalism to something towards socialism. Not socialism, but at least universal healthcare. Life, liberty, pursuit of happiness. First one is life.

I wish I knew what to do. I’m paying attention. I’m watching the money. I’m voting. I’m participating. It’s not clear that the Dems will do any better. God help us.

I love America. Mostly the people in it. But I am growing more and more discouraged by the few in power who abuse the poor.

Born in the USA

This is America


Also. When do we drop the American dream and start living as God intended? Without borders. Without walls. Loving and caring for the world. God doesn’t care if we are safe, air-conditioned and pampered. He doesn’t care how big our house is or what we have in the cupboards if any of his people are starving. He has asked us to move into an uncomfortable place. I am still content to be comfortable. When does that change? What’s the breaking point? To move from comfort with one’s life to fighting for change for others? He’s waiting for us to be the hands and feet of his body. That’s our earthly purpose. When do we embrace that?

I can’t let my family down. Run off to South America, risk life and limb, risk my daughter’s life. My husband and daughter are counting on me. What are the little things I can do for the least of these?

Advertisements

Loser!

“I’m a loser, baby! So, why dontcha kill me…”–Beck 😉

I submitted my audio collection of poems and prose to a contest and didn’t win. Oh well! Here are the entries. Best thing about losing is–I can have my material back to post on my very own blog! Always something to be thankful for. Please listen and let me know your thoughts! Thanks, Dear Readers. Thanks for getting me. :*

Responsible 2

The families impacted by the mass shooter in Texas should sue the irresponsible gun owner who did not store his weapons carefully enough to prevent mass murder.

Sue their guns off.

The next gun owner who is careless enough to let a family member or friend gain access or possession of their firearms should be prosecuted for accessory to murder or criminal negligence.

The NRA shouldn’t have a problem with responsible gun ownership.

Responsible

What I’m about to type is a very conservative, fundamental, controversial viewpoint about the state of confusion in which we find ourselves. If you have factual evidence to contradict me, you can comment peacefully below. Thanks.


We are in the clean-up stages of yet another school shooting. The media is competing for your viewership/readership with breaking details about why this happened. We all know why this happened. A crazy person with a GUN, a crazy person without a fully developed frontal lobe shot multiple other human beings because they lost (or never had) the ability to respect life. And we are responsible. Everyone. Every single person who touched this boy’s life is responsible.

That would include: the media, video game designers, his CHURCH, parents who don’t store their guns properly, gun manufacturers, fellow students, teachers, parents of peers, social media, t-shirt manufacturers, school administration, the girl who let four months of harassment culminate in an explosive humiliation of her peer, anyone who saw something and didn’t say something, magazine manufacturers (publications and bullet-holders), pornography of all kinds, mental health counselors. The whole damn confusing world is responsible for this bullshit.

Oh. Not you?

Really?

In a culture that allows women to strip, or pretend to strip, for money? We are responsible. We allow teens, even accidentally, access to guns? Responsible. We do not love others unconditionally? Responsible. We have turned away from modesty, decency, restraint and community? Responsible. We have turned from God or love to love of money, guns or beauty? Responsible.

We teach young men to look at the height of beauty, to desire an image, but we ask them to control their biological impulses. Look, but don’t touch. Unless I want you to. #metoo Confusion!

Magazines today are the cock-tease of the world. Without modesty, we are definitely confusing those males who are underdeveloped and ill-equipped to sort out boundaries. We tease them with beauty, love and acceptance. We sell fantasy. Then reject them. Then we allow them access to a gun.

It’s easy to point to the parents, the teachers in that school district, to guns. But what are we actually doing about loving others? Not tempting our brother? Reaching out for the least of these and not humiliating them, getting them help? How can we pursue our personal freedom if someone else is being shot, struggling to eat, or threatening to end their life or the life of others? What are we teaching our young daughters? How to conduct themselves with modesty and kindness or get what they want at any cost?

Before we crucify another boy for mental illness and murder, should we not ask ourselves what needs to change in addition to stricter gun laws? How can I change what’s happening? How can I conduct myself in a safe, respectable, responsible way to impact the world? If I am continually harassed, what can I do to change that? If I don’t want to be thought of in a certain way, if I want to be honored for something other than my body am I offering the world my mind OR my tits, ass, and latest makeup tips? Am I projecting an image to the world that helps or hurts? What makes girls or women of any age think they receive love for showing their body?

Unfortunately, the people that ask these questions aren’t the ones picking up a gun to solve their problems. The world is lost. We are lost until we are loved. Who loved that boy enough to keep him and others from harm?

You can howl at the government and gun makers to reform, but what about our own God-forsaken communities that allow this shit to happen? It takes a village, right? It takes a village to humiliate a murderer. It takes a village to reject a human being. It takes a village to let another boy slip through the cracks. It takes a village to stop this insanity. It takes a village to save another batch of students from slaughter.

We have sold and sacrificed our youth on the altar of money, lust and greed. And it will keep happening until we love everyone. Even the killers. He wasn’t a killer, until he killed.

It will keep happening as long as we are confused, distracted and obsessed with things/power rather than people. God help us.

Dogs in Strollers Signal the End of Times

A repost. Because I just watched John Mulaney’s new Netflix special Kid Gorgeous and he talks about his dog stroller. I’ve lost all respect for you, John. Sigh. But you still make my whole family laugh. So. You got that goin’ for ya.


Do you suppose that at the height of any advanced civilization, pets were carted around in small chariots and worshipped? And then the civilization collapsed due to economic and political disaster? Egyptians, Romans, Mayans. America?? The sign of the end is animal worship IMO. LOL

I don’t know if it’s Florida, old people or Wal-mart, but the amount of small dogs in strollers is increasing. I just saw two Shih Tzus being walked in a stroller on our street on the way home this morning. I saw a Yorkie in a stroller at Wal-mart last week. North Korea has missile capability. The end is nigh. (Please remind me to never go to Wal-mart ever again. Even if they have the cheapest aprons for high school ceramic students in town.)

Seriously though, why stroll a dog? Isn’t the purpose of walking a dog that the dog actually gets exercise? God have mercy on our confused nation. I mean, I love dogs, but a baby stroller?? Please euthanize your dog if they are unable to walk any more. For God’s sake. If you are offended by this advice, you might be a dog-strolling Wal-mart shopper. Or from Florida.

For years I have openly laughed at neighbors standing in small, sad patches of grass behind their dog, watching said dog poop, relaxed with total apathy except for their anxious blue-gloved hand in permanent claw pose, waiting to scoop said poop. The dog always has a smirk or a smile, “I got this human to pick up my shit for free just because I lick his face when he walks in the door.” Or the dog looks totally strained or confused. “Why do I have to poop in front of everyone??”

Who’s in charge? Someone once famously said, “If aliens came to our planet, they would think dogs were in charge because we are picking up their poop!” Aliens would definitely think dogs are in charge if they saw us carting them around in a baby buggy. Gah!

Flooding in Texas. Increased earthquakes. Global climate change. Start prepping now. Actually it’s probably too late. Watch Red Dawn and buy a bottle of Tequila.

Braggart

I just have to praise my daughter for one moment. She deserves some praise.

Lilli started her freshman year in a new school last fall. She was ambitious and hopeful. She took AP World History because her previous history teachers were awesome and she’s always taken advanced placement classes when possible. She got to pick her schedule for the first time without input from us. (Truly! We did not encourage her to take this, it was news to us!) She had no idea how tough it would be.

AP World History is a class usually reserved for sophomores and juniors. It’s a college-level course offering college credit with weighted grade points. She didn’t really understand how grueling it would become or that it was for college credit. She just assumed this is the class she should take. The other history course offered to freshman was just regular old History.

She quickly realized the amount of note-taking and homework was unusual. A Bible-sized amount of vocab note cards later, she was drowning in stress and anxiety. This wasn’t even like any college course I’d taken. No notes dictated by the professor. Just endless excavation of words from reading. This was difficult for a 14 yo who should actually still be in 8th grade (she skipped 4th grade). Hell, it would be difficult for anyone of any age.

But she just found out–she got a 95 (A) on her final exam for the class! Honestly, I was overjoyed, but not surprised. I knew she could do it. Of anyone I know, Lilli could do it.

Lilli is smart. So are many kids these days. But what Lilli has above most, even her parents, is an undying work ethic. I’m so proud of that. So thankful for her constant devotion, integrity and bottomless strength. She inspires me.

She’s had her low moments in this class. Feeling overwhelmed. Feeling inadequate. Feeling like she’s in over her head. But she always rallied. With encouragement from us, she didn’t linger long in her feelings of vulnerability and weakness.

After the first week, she was ready to transfer. Through tears and shaky voice cracks, she was serious about moving to a less-challenging class. I asked her to try. Try until the end of first semester. “And if you still want to transfer, let’s do it,” I told her.

She tried. She finished. She succeeded. And she stayed the whole year.

We’ve helped, but she’s done most of it on her own. Just being willing to try was her biggest accomplishment. Pushing past difficulty and pain. Tackling this class has been the hardest, most challenging job she’s had so far. And she aced it.

Big lessons other than history learned here. Way to go, Pencil Princess. I am so happy that you’re my girl. So happy you kept going. You’re getting a huge reward from us! AND you don’t have to take World History ever again! LOL You’re a genius!!


You can change the world. You just have to change your mind first.

Free!!

I have 3 publications on Amazon.

Present Tense is 99 cents today. Check it out. I can’t always offer these on sale, but it is right now, so go grab it.

My game play manual is FREE!!! right now, so check that out! Updo Salon & Spa It’s cheap at $2.99, otherwise. It’s a whole night of fun with your galfriends! Fun to just read, you don’t even have to throw the party, but you’ll want to.

Then I have my newest pub, House Full of Hope, a play. 99 cents today as well! Thanks for checking me out OR just joining me in celebrating my New Addition. LOL Bad joke, I know.

Writing a book or blog article or play is very much like giving birth. There is immediate joy after the delivery and you forget how bad you felt in labor. But even in the tears, even in the pain, there is joy to be found and pleasure to be experienced.

Forgive me if I’m the mom who is making you look at all the cute pictures of my new spawn! LOL I’m just so excited to offer low prices (or FREE) on my babies!

Walk. the. F. OUT

My daughter just yesterday participated in the student-led walkout protesting gun violence, but mainly as a commemoration of those lost on Valentine’s Day. F*ing Valentine’s Day. 17 people were murdered. Most of them children. Happy Heart Day, America.

Also. She walked out because she believes that no one needs an AR-15. But she walked out. Stood with her fellow classmates. Prayed. Honored in silence those who had to die for someone to listen. For someone to stand in their place.

She and her close friend were the only two from her class to go, but she said probably 200 showed up. Maybe more.

My husband and I attended the pre-walkout meeting last week. A “doctor” was there. We went around the room introducing ourselves. So-and-so, parent. So-and-so, student. Martha Maggio, parent. This guy. This f*ing guy. *DOCTOR* Douchebag, parent. He put the emphasis on the doctor. Not me. I’m putting the emphasis on Douche.

“I’m DOCTOR So-and-so. Parent.”

What. Ever.

So. From the jump, this PARENT, already has his panties in a twist.

He asks all kinds of ridiculous questions. We are winding down.

“Any more questions?”

Raises his hand. Again.

“Uh, yeah, this is more of an editorial or commentary.”

Oh. Shit. I just knew it was going to be something dumb.

“So, this is a protest, right?”

“No. This is a student-led commemoration that they kids won’t be punished for participating in. It’s totally voluntary. No one is being forced to go.”

“Well.”

Oh. Shit.

“Well. This website says, and I quote, “(Whatever the *F* this guy said. I don’t even care. It was basically some news article or website post revealing that the March 14th walkout would be a protest against gun violence.)”

This guy goes on and on about how it is a protest. “Right?”

“No. This is student-led. It’s a memorial for the fallen students and faculty. We are following the wishes and desires of Stoneman Douglas. There won’t be any signs. Whatever other groups are doing on March 14th is not endorsed by this high school, administration or school district.”

And he just kept on. So I finally ended the damn conversation.

“So what if it is a protest?”

Silence.

“These kids have a right to say whatever they want. That’s their freedom to do so.”

Silence.

I said what the principal could not and should not say. And then the meeting FINALLY adjourned. Thanks, DOC! I mean, Dick.

What I wanted to say and said loudly in the parking lot to my family (LOL):

YOUR SECOND AMENDMENT RIGHTS COME AFTER THESE KIDS’ *FIRST* AMENDMENT RIGHTS TO PROTEST GUN VIOLENCE. GATHER, ASSEMBLE, RIGHT TO LIFE, LIBERTY AND THE PURSUIT OF HAPPINESS. MOST OF ALL, LIFE, MUTHAFATHER! DO YOU LIKE GUN VIOLENCE?? HEYYYY! THIS GUY’S PRO-GUN VIOLENCE! SHUT THE *F* UP AND SIT THE *F* DOWN, LOBBY BOBBY!

But  I didn’t say that. To him. But I did shut that meeting hog down.

After we adjourned, he scurried over to a news reporter from the local paper who was covering the meeting. The reporter was actually trying to talk to a mother who identified herself as the parent of a child who just came from Stoneman Douglas this year. He’s a senior now here at my daughter’s high school. He wanted to participate in the walkout/memorial because that was his school. Those were probably people he knew. That mother spoke firmly, passionately, but kindly at the meeting. She was there to represent her son because he was at track practice. The doctor harassed her with questions and debate.

Which one of these parents is raising a child that will best contribute to society? Just asking. Just saying.

GAH!

Must go ask the Lord for strength in loving this type of buffoon. Forgive me, God, for hating this man. For, at the very least, not tolerating this man in my mind and wanting to curse him. I failed to love this person. Find compassion. Talk softly. Reason. I wasn’t rude, but I had hate in my heart.

You don’t need a gun to settle an argument. You just need to be armed with logic and facts.

Better Things to Do

You’ll never understand me
But really that’s okay
I have better things to do
Than fight online all day

I have minds to change
Hearts to save
Actions to do
Love be a slave

Talking to you is
Wasting my time
I would rather be
Composing my rhyme

Just please–go away
Don’t you have other stuff to do?
I am far too busy today
To get tangled up with you

Your directive is lost
Because I control my own life
People like you
Should just, “Put down the knife!”

Walk away
Get a hobby
Oh, I know
You could join the gun lobby

I choose to live life
With no weapon or guns
I may lose my life
But I won’t take anyone’s

You can’t hold evil
You can’t trust yourself
I trust God
Not a gun on a shelf

You can say that’s foolish
But only a fool would say that
Says so in the Bible
I could show you where it’s at

I have better things to do
Than worry about dying
Or to worry about your words
Or to spend my day crying

I have love to give
People to hold
Security in this life
And my ability to get old

Nothing in this life
Has power over me
Not fear, not illness
Not death, not greed

What has power over me
Is what Jesus said
“Love your neighbor as yourself.”
That part was in red.

I know you don’t get it
I know you live in fear
I know you need your gun
That part is very clear

I can be killed
I can come to harm
But I won’t pick up
And carry an arm

The only arm I need
Is the right hand of the throne
It’s more powerful
Than the gun you own

Gandhi said:
Peace at all cost.
Even in death,
Obedience is not lost.

I’d rather be
On Gandhi’s side
Or Jesus or Buddha
Or any peace-loving guide

Jesus asked his friend
To put down his sword
Then marched to his death
And he willingly went forward

I’m not afraid to die.
That is truly being free.
I would fight to live,
But if overcome, let it be.

I’ll never carry a gun
I’ll never live in fear
I have something better to do
Than debate my views on here


If you don’t like my opinion, there are millions of other blogs. Let me Google that for you! 😀


This is my rifle blog. There are many like it, but this one is mine. My rifle blog is my best friend. It is my life. I must master it as I must master my life. Without me, my rifle blog is useless. Without my rifle blog, I am useless. I must fire compose my rifle blog true. I must shoot straighter write clearer than my enemy who is trying to kill silence me. I must shoot delete him/her before he/she shoots responds to me. LOL

There are many blogs, but this one is mine! See what I did there? Step! OFF! Girl, bye.