That Girl Tasha

Crazy is the new Enemy Combatant Status

2012-12-09T15:24:00.000-08:00

Akin (almost) to the witch hunt of 17 century Salem; there was a time during the early 20th century when the ultimate oppression against someone you didn't like was to threaten a lock-up in the loony bin.

You only have to sit through a few old flicks before you see it used as part of a slapstick routine, like with a lot of things we're afraid of; we laugh.

Uh oh, Jeb made a snide remark about the mayor's wife -here comes the paddy wagon. Look likes the boys got a straight jacket for ya, Jeb.

-Cut to hilarious lobotomy scene.

We shake our heads and tsk tsk this simplistic view of behavioral oddities while producing Hollywood blockbusters and docudramas at the injustice done under the guidance of ignorance.

Nooo, you don't understand, the stretchy pants help me save lives, dammit.

Seizures that look like staring spells? Lock him up.

A female who likes to fuck?

Clearly, this is a dangerous mental ailment.

Someone who believes in a god the rest of us don't (or none at all)? Evidently the subject is bat-shit fucking crazy.

The motivations are obvious now. This was a user-friendly weapon and it was fired against anyone targeted out of fear.

This idea of locking people up for having unpopular ideas has fallen out of fashion over the last few decades.

I credit the hippies' coming of age for the decriminalization of eccentricity and sandals.

But now the power elites, who, I must say, have really had their nose to the grindstone, at this whole "hate them for their freedom" thing, have discovered that their new toys aren't all that useful, at least for the time being. Political pressure against the use of NDAA and the media (internet, anyway) firestorm over enemy combatant status makes these weapons of purge politically difficult to use (especially for a democratic president).

So now, once again, having Jeb hauled to the loony bin is looking like a pretty doable option.

The building designation is of little solace when you're locked inside it.

And I really have to wonder;

where have all the hippies gone?

The common factor in all of these columns of power is a shared building block: in none of these situations do you stand before a jury of your peers.

And it really is poetic and kind of beautiful to think; that with all their unimaginable wealth and unfathomable power they are still so very terrified of a jury of 12.

Norman Rockwell's The Holdout

How do we know this is coming? Because power elites telegraph their next move

About a million years ago before half a baseball team called me mommy, I did a little boxing and I kind of sucked. I sucked because under no circumstance could I throw a jab without telegraphing. If you telegraph your jab, you don't have a jab. If you don't have a jab, you don't have shit (I didn't have shit).

And here it is; they don't have shit either because they keep telegraphing their next move. They telegraph by feeding the media everything they need to feed them to smooth out the road.

Here is what they've telegraphed over the last year of so; every criminal is suffering from mental illness (batman murders, Bran Raub -covered by Oath Keepers here ). No longer are we hearing about all the vices of their pre-crime life, all the juicy details of who they dated, who they voted for and what type of porn they watched. All we hear now is how terrible and sad it was that someone didn't notice this mental illness sooner and "do something about it".

But is the media really that complacent? Would they really repeat what they're told ? Aren't they just trying to get the good stories? To be best and first?

Well, yes and yes.

King Stern

Many years ago Michael Jackson's press people (I swear this ties in) started referring to him as the king of pop (The king was already taken by Elvis Presley -who had a nose).

Media outlets, battling to get in close to be first with any MJ news were eager to impress his peeps. They hoped to get on his gatekeepers' good side and gobbled up the king of pop line. They slung it better then his own press agents did. Sometimes even skipping his name to make room for his title.

Some years later, Howard Stern commented that he found this absurdly hilarious and loudly proclaimed he would do the same. He would just give himself a title, any title. He would repeat it. He would ask to be introduced by it. And he would favor media who repeated it.

Go ahead; Google "The king of all media".

And that was just the entertainment industry.

Yes, the stakes are fairly high. There is money. There is fame. There are careers to make and break.

But is it as high stakes as war? The leadership of a nation? The world? What about billions or trillions of dollars? Is it crazy to think that that amount of power and position could slant an individual reporter?

Power players and those who cheer lead for them would call this conspiracy theory.

I prefer to call it human nature.

In a world filled with sociopaths you only have to follow the trails of self interest to see where we're headed.

Crazy is the new Enemy Combatant Status/NDAA and is every bit as dangerous.

-Tasha

See Also;

Marine Veteran Brandon Raub, Victim of Soviet Style Pre-crime Detention

The Emperor Drinks Boxed Wine

2012-08-13T08:38:00.000-07:00

Recently there was a show on one of the Discovery channels focusing on all the ways our subconscious minds fuck with us. In one segment a wine taste test was given to multiple targets. One poured from a box, one from a French wine bottle.

No surprises here, the targets swished and sniffed and twirled and declared this new French wine to be something fruity yet woodsy, fresh yet matured and simply elegant on the palate.

They shook their heads and rolled their eyes at the wine-in-a-box. They wrinkled their noses at just the sniff of it, as if to say, "I'll be a good sport and try it, but my accomplished olfactory already tells me this inadequate inebriate is of wino paper bag variety."

Of course, the twist ending was both wines were from the same cheap box.

Did they really believe the bottled stuff tasted better? Is it that they trusted so much in the price tag, set by experts, that their own taste buds were rendered completely numb? It is possible but I don't that's it.

The thing is; we lie to ourselves all the time, but we're not usually all that convincing when we do it.

I believe they saw this as a chance to feel superior to the masses. To finally look down from above at those box drinkers. With such an obvious - pick the dainty bottle over the cardboard box- password, to the super secret upper echelon club, who could refuse?

But why, why do we care? Why do we want so much to be a puffed-up compatriot of the preferential posh?

All of us are expert in something.

I don’t know shit about French wine.

I can only estimate the price afterwards; by degree of headache. I know the difference between a your and a you’re. Does that make me, by internet forum decree, better than someone who doesn’t know a there, from a their, from a they’re, but can reassembled a car’s engine with her eyes closed?

Why do we do this? Is this just basic tribalism? Is this desperate need to be accepted into something exclusive worse now than years ago when we were surrounded by a multi-generational family? Or maybe this is nothing new. Maybe this is just yet another off-shoot of royalty/celebratory worship.

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Pink vs. Gray Vaginas

When my husband first started law school, we had a neighbor who attended art school. This was one of the top, and therefore one of the highest stress (think cut-throat business world intrigue, then up it a notch) art schools in the country.

My neighbor’s art was always some type of vagina. It was sometimes rainbowed, sometimes flashing, sometimes ethereal, but always, always, it was some type of vagina.

Despite her inspired passionate drive, she was never really in the art school in crowd. These were the people who would be chosen to 'make it' in the fast paced, who's who, latex wearing, world of art.

Georgia O’Keeffe; subtlety was not her thang

For her senior project exhibition she created a covered walk-way, filled with neon light, you guessed it, vaginas. The floor was granite tile and the effect was actually quite pleasing to the eye. The light reflected onto the floor making a delightful, flashing, twinkling vaginal reflection. People walking through commented on how pretty it was. They would stand with hands leaning against the very shiny, very pink archway wall opening and wonder aloud what it could all mean . . .

Neon Virginia? Close enough

At the end of the second day's showing, our neighbor, reacting to the weight and constant pressure of her supervisors' disapproval and her peers' non-stop eye rolling at, what they considered, her unsophisticated display, broke down and, for lack of a better term, flipped her shit.

She purchased a gallon of gray paint and overnight, dumped it out and sloshed and smeared it all over the floor and structure of her cunt-cabana. It looked like mud, but more dreary.

The next day people could not get out of there fast enough.

The director of the department followed visitors around and listened to their comments as part of the grading assessment.

They all said how ugly it was, mostly "Eww, gross" and "OKaaay, that was weird."

Our neighbor was officially inducted into the in crowd that day.

The director congratulated her and told she had finally done it.

She had made people experience something they didn’t wish to experience and, in this, had embodied the true essence of an artist.

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Is everyone full of shit?

It's examples like this that make one wonder, how much bluster and bullshit are the upper spheres of any area of society full of?

I suspect the answer is a lot.

Because all of us are knowledgeable in something, all of us have experienced a similar unveiling of the wizard. We have all witnessed the bona fide, recognized expert in our own area of knowledge buffoon his way through an appearance and talk out of his ass. It's no surprise but disappointing, all the same, to see that he really doesn't sport a giant green papier mâché head.

Maybe it's the anti-elitist in me, but while I have an interminable, boundless faith in the power of the average person, who may or may not know a your from a you're, to achieve seemingly impossible heights, at the same time, I have a deeply ingrained suspicion when an expert claims to know better than the rest of us.

I leave you with a kind of long but, worth it, except from the autobiographical novel; Expecting Adam.

This ridiculous snippet made the email circuit at Yale, for obvious reasons, usually titled Faking it at Harvard (as if no one at Yale did the same).

And maybe I don't have an artist's eye but I still really think vaginas are better in pink.

-Tasha

From Expecting Adam by Martha Beck ;

It was mid-November and the few remaining leaves rattled on the trees. I welcomed the winter chill, since icy air helped keep my mind off the nausea. I breathed it carefully one day as I waddled over to William James Hall (known to the intelligentsia as Billy Jim) to attend a class. I arrived a few minutes early and decided to use the extra time to visit a friend in the Psychology Department, one floor above the Sociology Department, where my class was held. My friend was in her lab, conducting an experiment that consisted of implanting wires into the brains of live rats, then making the rats swim around in a tub of reconstituted dried milk. She told me why she was doing this, but I have no memory of what she said. Maybe she was making soup. Whatever the reason, she had put the rats and the milk in a children’s wading pool, the kind you fill up with a hose so that toddlers can splash around on a hot summer day. The tub was decorated with pictures of Smurfs. Smurfs, for those of you who are not culturally aware, are little blue people whose antics you may have observed on Saturday morning cartoons during the 1980s. I personally feel that the Smurfs were cloying, saccharine little monsters, but Katie adored them.

After chatting with my rat-molesting friend for a moment, I excused myself and headed downstairs for the seminar. There were seven or eight other graduate students in attendance, along with a couple of extra professors who had come to hear the latest twist on established theories. I felt the way I always did when I walked into a classroom at Harvard, that I had just entered a den of lions — not starving lions, perhaps, but lions who were feeling a little peckish. The people in the room were fearsomely brilliant, and I was always terrified that I would say just one completely idiotic thing, make one breathtakingly asinine comment that would expose me as a boorish, politically incorrect half-wit.

“Ah, Martha,” said the course instructor, “we’ve been waiting for you.” I blushed. I had stopped at the rest room to blow a few chunks, and had been hoping that the class would start a bit late. I did not want to be the focus of attention.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I was upstairs in the Psych lab, watching rats swim around in a Smurf pool.”

“I see,” said the instructor. “Yes, I believe I’ve read about that.”

A professor, one of the visiting dignitaries, chimed in. “How is Smurf’s work going?” he inquired. “I understand he’s had some remarkable findings.”"Yes,” said a graduate student. “I read his last article.”

There was a general murmur of agreement. It seemed that everyone in the room was familiar with Dr. Smurf, and his groundbreaking work with swimming rats. It took me a few discombobulated seconds to figure out that everyone at the seminar assumed a Smurf pool was named for some famous psychological theorist. I guess they thought it was like a Skinner box, the reinforcement chamber used by B.F. Skinner to develop the branch of psychological theory known as behaviorism. Comprehension blossomed in my brain like a lovely flower.
“I think,” I said solemnly, “that Smurf is going to change the whole direction of linguistic epistemology.”

They all agreed, nodding, saying things like “Oh, yes,” and “I wouldn’t doubt it.”
I beamed at them, struggling desperately not to laugh. It wasn’t so much that I wanted to mock these people. I was giddy with exhilaration, because after seven years at Harvard, I was just beginning to realize that I wasn’t the only one faking it.

-From Expecting Adam by Martha Beck

Joy After Loss

2012-08-06T00:00:00.000-07:00

There was never yet an uninteresting life. Such a thing is an impossibility. Inside of the dullest exterior there is a drama, a comedy, and a tragedy -Mark Twain

I don't down own the copy-write to grief. If we are lucky enough to live long enough we lose those we love.

We just do.

To experience loss is to experience the full palette of human emotion in all its vibrancy and darkness.

When it happens earlier in life it seems shocking. When it happens a little later in life we view it as a sort of phase. We realize we all must face these things at some point. Our friends and family are derailed by tragedies and we wait, watch and help while they go through it. When it happens toward the end of our lives, well, we view it as an inevitable part of the ride; another signal that our time is coming too.

If there is such a thing as scale of loss and I'm not sure there is, mine falls on the lower end. I did not know my baby as a little girl or as a teenager or as a young woman. I never heard her laugh or tucked her in at night. I don't have those memories of her to mourn.

I mourn the possibilities.

I stare at her little empty car seat and imagine buckling her in. I see the empty seat in my truck between my two youngest and visualize her in the middle. I see the empty table place and imagine her high chair there.

While she is not physically here; she holds a window, a view of what might have been.

If there is a spectrum of grief I cannot begin to fathom the outer edge; losing a child whom I knew, one who colored my life beyond the eight months that I carried mine. To lose her so young is such a very sad thing. But is it any different from what we all must face at some point?

As a little girl I had seen such grief in my father, when my parents received a call that my 22 year old half sister had died. I could hear from the hall what sounded like laughter, but not. I was five at the time. I had never heard my dad cry. Peeking around the corner into my parent's room; I watched my dad hit his knees with his hands clasped out in front of him. I didn't know what happened but I knew it wasn't laughter I was hearing. The neighbors came by and picked me up “to play”. Hours later I learned what had happened from their kids. And while my father grieved his little girl, my 22 year old sister also had a little girl of her own whose life was upended in ways I cannot imagine.

So clearly I do not own grief. It is public domain. We all own a share.

But mostly what I want to talk about are the little oddities of the experience, the strange places where joy can be found even among such sadness. I find my emotions don't always "match up" with the store bought variety. I suspect no one's grief squares with what it is "suppose" to be.

I find joy and peace in anything that proves she existed. And in anything that makes me feel she still exists in some way.

Anything that makes her feel real brings me great joy. The photos of us holding her and seeing her little plaster hand cast on the shelf bring me such serenity. I dream of her at night and sometimes in the dreams she's alive for just a little while and I get to see her eyes. She looks right at me. You would think such a dream would be devastating but to see her looking back at me is such a beautiful experience that I smile when I wake up. It feels like I've been given a small sweet gift.

I have a habit of counting my kids when we're out and about. I do it so often that I don't really hear the numbers anymore. When I've mentally checked them all off, I go right back to what I was doing. If I don't get to the right number, I look to see who is missing and why and then I count again. Ever since the death and subsequent birth of my daughter my brain doesn't feel satisfied when I reach five. My mind rings the someone is missing bell so I start to count again. Mid-way through the second count I realize who is missing and why.

This brings me joy, an odd bittersweet kind of joy.

It tells me that somewhere beneath the veil of consciousness, my mind detects her.

She was really here and somewhere, in some form, she still exists.

It tells me that the empty space is not really as empty as it seems.

Baby Sonora Rain with Mom, Dad and brothers and sisters

-Tasha

Where are all the libertarian women? I'll tell you.

2012-07-06T22:17:00.000-07:00

I never hear the end of women complaining that men aren't involved with their kids, that they don't take an interest.*

And some don't; but maybe it's because they're human and like most other humanoid life forms they can only take so much rejection and nitpicking before they shut down emotionally.

This guy sports a six pack and he still gets nagged

And at that point they probably do say to themselves,” Maybe I'm just not cut out for this, maybe I should just step out of the way and let my wife takeover or step out permanently, let someone else raise the kids who can do all those things the right way."

Anything that doesn't fall in line with the way things should be done according to the TV model receives the head-shaking, smile knowingly and roll your eyes, silly man just doesn't get it look.

I cannot even begin to fathom what is wrong with women. And when I say women -I mean of the finicky mainstream variety.

I don't know her, but odds are she's not a naggy bitch

I have not come across any of this bashing among the off the beaten path types; homeschooling, attachment, crunchy, gunny, anarchists, freedom minded women. Because of the circles I run in, I rarely meet up with women, these days, who aren’t of like mind set with myself. But occasionally when I’m cornered by chance or social dynamics to chitchat with the eye-rolling, tsk-tsking species of my gender, I am reminded why.

Generally, the only discussion going is, my husband/boyfriend is an idiot because_____. Women do this as a type of female bonding. Women who** do not even know each other will connect in a bond of sisterhood by making snide comments about their buffooning husband.

You see, we women want protection. Even those of us who claim independence, who pound our fists and declare ourselves in control of our destinies, those of us who carry guns, run companies, dig ditches or power lift; we can‘t help it. As deeply ingrained as it is in men to dream of being the hero (just admit it, even Samwise Gamgee couldn't help himself), we dream of feeling safe.

Ya, sorry about putting that song in your head

And here is where is gets fucked.

This little lizard brain quirk isn’t enough to stop us from achieving anything feminism fought for back in the day. If channeled properly, it only means that we show our husbands a little respect; that we say, Thank you when he changes the tire, instead of stamping our feet and muttering about how we could have done it ourselves. But when television tells us that men are insulting and bullying us when they talk to the mechanic for us, we get huffy and pissy instead of realizing they are just trying to do their job.

Men can't help themselves; they want to protect; they want to provide for their tribe, their family. I'm not saying only men should work while women do housework. I mean on a very deep, subconscious level this is where men are coming from.

So what now?

We have effectively removed our spouses as protector and provider even if only in an honorary modernized version of the position.

And yet at a deeply rooted level we still want protection.

So here’s what now.

We have put government at the head of our table.

We have put government in the role of daddy.

So while there may physically be a husband and father in the picture, in the dynamics of things, they have been replaced.

I feel so much safer knowing this giant head is here

Government protects the children with their rules and laws.

Government provides food with their little programs.

Government provides health care and education.

So if you’re wondering where all the libertarian women are, we’re the ones not laughing at our husbands.

-Tasha

*This post is a re-write of one I wrote a few years ago. After careful review, I felt the message needed repeating and also, I noticed that it contained zero swear words. I don't like to write anything that doesn't contain the word "fuck" at least once'; hence the re-write.

** Hat tip to Grammer Girl, fucking who and whom

Is Skut Farkus style Obamacare really that big of a deal?

2012-07-05T15:36:00.000-07:00

What does it really mean? I mean the philosophy is fucked, that is a fact.

A governing body that makes decisions based on how much power it can gain and how much money it can can avoid spending will essentially be in control of our lives and our bodies.

You want to drink raw milk? No, that's up to us now. Vaccinations? Well, we're in charge so that's up to us now, too and you know how we feel about that. Oh, and we do things about twenty years behind the times so, high fat? That's bad. Salt? That's bad too or it was fifteen years ago. Corn syrup is awesome though, so plenty of that if you're to be an upstanding citizen. Birth at home? Nope, not allowed.

Also, make sure you and your kids load up on pharmaceuticals like all the good people of the world who wash their cars on Sundays do. What's that? You don't want your children on drugs? Sounds like child abuse. We'll have to declare you unfit.

The possibilities are endless.

It's like accepting a gift of money from your mother-in- law. Oh you thought that was free?

No, the price is your kids wear the clothes she likes and do the activities she likes. Don't don't like beauty pageants? Too bad, mom loves them and if you want the goods, you'll make peace with having your daughter twirl on the runway while mom,"Ooohs and Aawws".

So yes, the philosophy is fucked.

How much of this health care plan that is philosophically and legally feasible is actually politically feasible and how much and how far can they push? Well, we shall see.

This will affect everyone.

NDAA however, is the power to kill.

NDAA is the power to imprison.

NDAA is the power to send anyone to a foreign land to place a check mark for all of the above.

It does not affect everyone. It only affects those who are politically expedient for it to affect.

That is me

and possibly, if you are an active libertarian; that is you.

Control over health care is important in that it really truly does affect everyone . Not just those at the top of Martin Niemöller's first they came for . . . list .

So maybe, in that way, it really truly is that important.

Maybe this is the today's tea tax and or stamp act. Those not yet jaded and so full of enthusiasm had no idea the road ahead in this movement (thank God). Maybe, combined with the hard cold reality that Ron Paul could not get a fair shake, and make no mistake, to the young people who were new to the idea of freedom, the fact that the laws do not apply to those in charge was a cold hard and surprising slap, it really is important.

Here's to hoping that now that it is evident, we are not getting what we wanted for Christmas, that we received a deserved C+ on our response to NDAA, that maybe this health care shove from Skut Farkus and his yellow eyes, so help me, yellow eyes, was just one shot too many.

-Tasha

Hand me my cane; I'm sticking around

2012-06-17T02:04:00.000-07:00

Okay, wow, when I started this blog; Facebook wasn't filled with my high school friends, Reddit wasn't filled with my wrath and Twitter wasn't filled with my anonymous secrets (not really anonymous, guess what my handle is). I did, however, have an active and bright and glittery and kind of loud Myspace account.

I had a devil of a time finding my own log in requirements for this creaky old blog but as much as today's social networks have rendered my blog as outdated as FM radio, I have to say, I'm pretty nostalgic about the whole thing. I never thought I'd be grandfathered into anything with a six year time investment but I think it safe to say, I'm an old timer in the world of blogs.

I started this rant before my husband started O a th Ke epers (no sense making it searchable), before Ron Paul announced his bid the first time around (the republican bid anyway). My now six year girl was just born and since then I have had a little boy (now 3) and another beautiful little girl who was stillborn in March.

Time changes us all and I'm, frankly, not as witty as I used to be and I'm quite a bit more jaded.

I'm also a bit more prone to self censoring now that I know I'm just a click away from family and friends and just a few clicks away from hostile media (thanks to O.K.).

So being the cautious sort that I am; don't expect me to talk about the lap dance I once gave to Matt Leblanc or the day that I learned Judge Reinhold had a fascination for dirty talk (and I mean dirty).

I mean that would be like saying fuck you to the liberal forums that sometimes comb and quote my blog.

I can't spend my whole life as the zany zebra baby of the family.

I have been slowed down by age and responsibility; my most recent claim to fame is that a bit part vampire from the not-yet-released Breaking Dawn II sent me a direct message on Twitter and if that is not boring enough, it was in response to my Tweet regarding Wikileaks.

Hopefully, my caustic wit will return so we can all discuss our adopted son Rand Paul and try to figure out where we all went wrong and if our collective tough love program can straighten him out before it's too late.

So now I sign off-with the same sort of sentimental clinginess that I clutch onto to my Grease II and Olivia Newton-John records; I still hold this blog dear and cross-my-heart that I will update.

-Tasha

Nothing to say here-the guy at 45 seconds says it all

2011-01-28T21:07:00.000-08:00

Life Lesson From Dad or Never Walk with Your Hands in Your Pockets

2010-12-12T00:10:00.000-08:00

When I was a kid, my dad had a theory that you should never walk around with your hands in your pockets.

He was quite a story teller and many a tale had misfortune woven into it via a man rendered helpless by trapped hands.

One day while going up a restaurant stairwell on a family evening out to dinner. A guy came up behind us and sort of "cut us off" and entered the stairwell first.

The free handed man in the danger sign above is far better off than our poor protagonist

His hands planted firmly into his Dockers and sleeves of his silver Members Only jacket pushed up to his elbows as he clip-clopped by.

Toady a Members' Only jacket is vintage cool; in 1983 it meant you were a dork like this guy.

He was also whistling (my dad had many many theories about people who whistle, mostly that they are full of themselves ) he made it to the top step, tripped and rolled all the way down like a kid rolling down a grassy hill and landed at our feet.

His hands never came out of his pockets.

He pulled one hand free when he landed to help himself up and then re-pocketed it and whistled off.

It was like my dad's imagination suddenly materialized in front of us.

-Tasha

The valet parker who went to went to Yale

2010-12-11T18:45:00.000-08:00

When my husband was in the army they did an exercise where they would parachute onto a treetop (those giant mutant Washington state things)then rappel down. It worked great in daylight (you see where this is going) but when they tried it at night it was a different story. My husband landed just a little off center and when he went to rappel, the branch broke.

He fell 70 feet.

He got an awesome doc who later made a career out of spinal injuries and wound up with a steel rod in his spine. But twenty-eight years later has few back problems other than lack of mobility.

He had another close call about 20 years ago.

My husband's family had an old derringer 22 (handgun). My husband who taught firearms classes at the time, knew this gun was a piece of crap. Told his mom not to touch it. The derringer is essentially an old west style gun with the safety to match. You can throw a Glock all over the room all day without it ever unintentionally firing as internal safeties will prevent that, this is not so with the little derringer.

Fast forward to 20 years ago (that's confusing).

A friend of hubby's family moved to a really crappy place in downtown Vegas. He called hubby to asked about that old gun in the back of the drawer. Hubby launched his speech on safety. But friend convinced him he really needed it. On the way to the crappy downtown apt. hubby and friend stopped to get a soda, gun fell off the seat, hit the ground, hubby looked down at what fell, gun fired, hit his eye.

His friend jumped in the driver's seat, hubby in the passenger. His friend drove like a maniac causing hubby to yell, "Slow down!" a few times (his friend's favorite part of the story).

At the hospital a group of police were just in the entrance. His friend waved passed them saying, "Give me all the tickets you want in about five minutes." The cops said,"Oh, let me guess- 68 white Camero. Ya - there have been calls."

Turns out the bullet went into hubby's eye, rolled around the eye socket, stopped at his brain, went around and was sitting just under his skin.

(Also, you single guys in your mom's basements may want to know that while he was waiting for his prosthetic eye to be made, he wore an eye patch.

I am not kidding you when I say that I was like a body guard to a sparkly vampire, trying to keep the women off of him. He could not go out of the house without women propositioning him.)

His eye was destroyed but he was fine otherwise and was back running valet in a couple of weeks.

However, the whole thing (both instances) caused him to look at his life and wonder if he didn't have more purpose. So at 28 he started going to community college, transferred to a university, graduated Summa Cum Laude, worked for a congressman for a year (Ron Paul) and then went to Yale Law School.

He graduated Law School at 40.

And became that Oath Keeper guy

That was six years ago. People ask me what it's like to be married to an ivy league lawyer, I tell them I don't know, I married a valet-parker.

-Tasha

Finally my favorite author meets my favorite movie . . . Jane Austen's Fight Club

2010-07-25T00:23:00.000-07:00

The Revolution Continues . . .

2010-07-16T00:10:00.000-07:00

For those of you outside of the libertarian soap opera that is Nevada, the quick explanation is Sue essentially fucked over Ron Paul republicans and it cost her the primary. We put together a package of condolences for her and delivered to her headquarters.

Below is the press release.

FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE

Contact: Wayne or Jennifer Terhune
or Robert Terhune

Ron Paul Crowd Sends Condolences to Sue Lowden

LAS VEGAS, 6/15/2010—Supporters of former presidential candidate Ron Paul delivered condolences to Sue Lowden's Las Vegas office yesterday regarding her recent loss in the Republican Senatorial primary. Along with a tongue-in-cheek '"sympathy" card, they sent Mrs. Lowden a copy of the U.S. Constitution and "Robert's Rules of Order". Signers of the card include Dr. Wayne Terhune, and Oath Keepers founder Stewart Rhodes, who was a delegate to the Nevada Republican 2008 convention and a member of the platform committee, as well as numerous other delegates.

"The American people are tired of fake conservatives and corrupt politicians, and that's not just the Ron Paul people, it's the grass roots, salt-of-the-earth Constitutionalists of all kinds across the nation," said Stewart Rhodes. Dr. Wayne Terhune, who organized the delegate-run convention held in June 2008, said, "Even though it's too late to send the correct delegates to the convention in Minneapolis, Mrs. Lowden's defeat is just. As Senator Beers found out, the actions they took at the April 2008 convention have received their just reward."

The Nevada Republican 2008 Convention was illegally and abruptly adjourned (when it appeared Ron Paul was about to win the majority of delegates) on April 26, 2008, and never reconvened. The ballots cast during the convention were locked up in the Peppermill Hotel Casino in Reno and not counted until over a year later. Despite an appeal to the RNC Committee on Contests, delegates from Nevada were appointed by the RNC. As noted by Marc Thiessen in last Wednesday's (6/9/10) Washington Post, Sue Lowden's actions probably have cost her the election. "Sue Lowden's betrayal of the Ron Paulians at the NV State Convention was the deciding factor in her defeat for the Republican primary nomination," said Dave Freeman, Oath Keepers Nevada President and National Liaison to Peace Officers, who was also a delegate to the Nevada Republican Convention in 2008. "It was a serious miscalculation on her part and it cost all the old guard Republicans their positions as well."

"Sue Lowden is merely reaping the whirlwind, and this is only the beginning," Rhodes added. "Hopefully our political leaders in the future will remember what happened, and will act honorably. Sue Lowden's unlimited funds couldn't buy this race. There's no price on integrity."

Easter turkey -no politics today

2010-04-03T10:53:00.000-07:00

I have a million and one things I want to discuss, but this one is time sensitive.

We have the D.C./Virginia marches coming up, I want to tell you about our 2,700 mile tour through Montana and Nevada with five kids and three dogs,

also I've been drafting up a post on the health-care bill from the prospective of someone who has only once used health insurance; just a lot going on but today's emergency post is about how to be a turkey hero.

This will be quick;

1. Soak your turkey in ice water and two cups kosher salt for 12 hours.

2. Inject the shit out of it with butter.

3. Cook it in a bag (a cooking bag, obviously, and no, dry cleaner bags are not an acceptable replacement.)

4. Put celery stalks under the turkey, inside the bag so you can lift it easier because it will be stuck when done.

5. Going from pan to platter will be a very very delicate operation because this will the juiciest, tenderest, and best tasting turkey you have ever seen or tasted.

6. Once it is on the platter, guard it with your life. One false move before official carving and it will turn to soup, explosively on the table. It will turn to soup anyway as it is being carved but that's okay because everyone will blame the guy doing the carving for the hatchet job and joke that he should never become a surgeon.

7. Bring along some homemade bread, I'll show you how (without a bread machine that costs more than your dryer).

8. Happy Easter

-Tasha

Privacy vs Blogging

2010-02-22T08:47:00.000-08:00

This blog started out as a sort of anonymous rant.

Then I thought -what the heck-and put up some silly family pics, mostly of my dogs, for fun.

Then people I know started reading my blog (this is when I went back and deleted all the bad thing I'd said about them) but now it's sort of going beyond that. Now people piles of people whom I've never met or electronically corresponded with are surfing methodically through my old posts and clicking on photos and such.

Not too long ago we had sort of a rough time and I considered putting my thoughts down here, but then thought what about all those who wish me ill because my husband is that Oath Keeper guy.

This is the pic I tried to talk Stew into using for the Yale Alum professional book thingy -so much better than the bookshelf background

It's not just friends and a few co-blogger gals anymore.

This was a bit troubling to me and I have considered shutting this blog down.

But the more I thought about the hunchbacked google stalkers out there the more a single phrase seemed to block out all other thoughts

Fuck 'em

-Tasha

Bill O’Reilly Advocates Gun Confiscation in Interview with Oath Keepers Founder Stewart Rhodes (Known here as Hubby)

2010-02-20T11:31:00.000-08:00

My "wow" moment as a parent, from a Reddit comment?

2009-11-23T11:04:00.000-08:00

When I was in the seventh grade, I had an awesome English teacher.

He was an obsessive eccentric who made the class a giant party every day. If our school had been in a ghetto, some washed up actor would totally be able to save his career by playing Mr. Springer in a movie about inspiring underprivileged kids.

Because he was such an amazing teacher, the school brought in new teachers to train under him. The way it worked in the district was, the new teacher would have total control of the class. The old teacher would only be there to answer the newbie's questions and offer moral support.

Mr. Springer made no secret of his absolute disdain for this system and for this underling in particular.

She was a "rules are rules" disciplinarian. He randomly handed out ten dollar bills in pink plastic eggs to anyone who could pass a spelling test.

Personally, as much fun as everyone was having, I really wasn't his biggest fan. I mean I liked him and I thought what he was doing was cool but I always felt guilty taking up a spot in his class because frankly I would have done well anywhere. I didn't need a giant dancing science fiction parade every morning to enlighten me to the power of story-telling.

Anyway, one day I finished my work and was writing a note to a friend. I first wrote up a draft, highlighting some of the thing I wanted to say. In the draft, I circled misspelled words and drew little arrows showing where I would move lines around for clarity.

I considered note passing to be a modern form of letter writing. I knew that my friends would keep these notes for years and reread them as adults. I kept that in mind as I wrote. Did I mention that my class work was done and that I had the highest grade in the the class, something like 800 points over the points possible and that the class had been taken over by a tyrant with total control over the class? (See a bit of grudge holding here?)

Well, she spotted my note writing and FREAKED. "How dare you take up my class time with THIS! "

She had serious demon eyes and literally had veins popping out when she yanked the notes off my desk.

This was the first time Underling had dealt with this type of felonious assault on her class time so she had to go to the big guy at the desk for guidance. Guidance from the guy who did nothing but glare evilly at her all class and no doubt wrote and rewrote Poe like scenarios against her in his mind while he watched her botch his class day in and day out .

She slapped the notes against his desks and called me up. He sat back and read the note, then picked up the draft. "What's this?"

"My first draft."

He leaned back in his chair and reread the draft. He immediately recognized some techniques he had taught. "You wrote a draft to a note?"

A huge smile crept across his face.

"This is what I taught you guys to do. And here you are using what I taught-all on your own. I am amazed. "

He leaned back again. And sighed a deep sigh.

"I'm so happy right now, I don't know what to say."

He took both notes and shook his finger in Underling' s face. "You are not going to the Principle with this. I am keeping these notes. This type of thing is why we are all here. She used what I taught her all on her own."

Really even better than a "wow" moment, it was a wow/revenge moment. And I got to be a part of it.

My wow moment as a parent came while I was snooping a bit.

I was looking through Reddit when I realized the page was still signed in to my 12 year old son's account. Knowing I had access to a 12 1/2 year old boy's musings on the the internet was a bit stressful, I wasn't sure what I would run into.

A common theme in our house is the discussion of the idea that every small thing you do in life affects a great many different people and events. We often find that some of the most earth shattering, crazy events in our lives can be traced to some small event that meant almost nothing at the time. I talk to the kids about how different I feel ( sometimes for hours) after someone lets me in in traffic as opposed to when someone doesn't say thanks when I let them in. We talk about all the different things I might do throughout the day based on the traffic exchange that occurred and how that effects others and so on .

Anyway, below is a response to a post on the social news site Reddit.com. I can can see we need to work on sentence structure but I think we are all guilty of run-ons when posting an emotional diatribe.

Below my kid's comment are the responses it generated -wow again. ( and ya- he did write this himself. He does talk like this all the time.)

Every time we go out and about at least three people ask what his IQ is.

Answer: really fucking high

My kid's post;

These people are pathetic. If you move to a rain-forest in Brazil, your still in the middle of the Fucking rain-forest, recession or not.

If you go to veterinary school you will walk away with the ability to medically care for animals, that is knowledge that means something, knowledge that will always be useful and has been useful since man domesticated wild animals.

if you learn carpentry then you can build a house, if you make a movie then it's always there, ready to make you laugh or smile or cry, if you join a conservation program then your actions may save a species.

they may tell you that one man cannot change anything, that everything you do will have no affect on anyone else.That is a blatant lie.

Everything you ever do, from smiling at someone you don't know to throwing your brother a surprise party, everything you do every single day of your life impacts the lives of those around you and vice versa, with their destinies slightly shifted by your actions, they go on to effect the actions of others, years after you've done something the direct consequences are playing out on the other side of the world. everyone is the Center of a gigantic ripple in the the pond we call Earth, each center being constantly affected by the Billions of other ripples being given off each day by Billions of people. Causing the ripples you create to be fundamentally different and have different affects on the other Centers, and on and on. A gigantic ever-shifting Monument to the mastery of the human race over it's own cosmic destiny.

Welcome to the Universe.

There is no human on this Earth that does not posses the power to change his or her own destiny, even in the the smallest of ways, they throw excuses in their own paths, they say that hey have no choice but to live the rut of routine that they created for themselves and exist in by their own choice, that the invisible "System" they claim holds sway over their lives does not allow them to be themselves, only glassy-eyed automation's screaming for release. but in truth all that holds them back is themselves, there is no physical barrier preventing you from telling your boss to suck it, no looming guard forcing you to use your overpriced credit cards, no walls to keep you from moving away from your shitty housing development and your obnoxious neighbors, there is nothing but your own delusions.

You remain in your grudging life of your own accord, not knowing that you've had Ayn Rand turning in her grave at MACH 2 for years.

What will you do? will you ignore my words and continue to wallow in self pity? Or will you acknowledge your existence as an utter individual, that one thing that can move the world through will alone, as you have been able to from birth. Just like the entire human race.

What will you do? The choice is yours and yours alone.

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allenizabeth 6 points7 points8 points 10 days ago[+] (2 children)

allenizabeth 6 points7 points8 points 10 days ago[-]
FUCK YES. EVERYTHING YOU SAID.

I am upvoting you with the force of 1000 dragons.

This is exactly what I long to say to every sad sack on Reddit who thinks the world is a vast conspiracy to disempower them.

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systemghost 6 points7 points8 points 10 days ago[+] (1 child)
systemghost 6 points7 points8 points 10 days ago[-]
I like your dragon-force measurement scale.

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Offensive_Brute 0 points1 point2 points 8 days ago[+] (0 children)
Offensive_Brute 0 points1 point2 points 8 days ago[-]
its important tp properly measure the dragon force with which one upvotes.

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CaptainDevious 1 point2 points3 points 10 days ago[+] (0 children)
CaptainDevious 1 point2 points3 points 10 days ago[-]
Damn. Good rant.

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deadilyduplicate [S] -1 points0 points1 point 9 days ago* [+] (5 children)
deadilyduplicate [S] -1 points0 points1 point 9 days ago* [-]
I think the point that the writer was trying to make in what I submitted was not that our actions lack meaning but rather our thoughts do. Sure when we get out and do something we produce effects which may be good or may be bad. But when we reflect on those actions and think about our lives we find nothing.

You rant is superficial in this respect. It reaffirms our existence by relying on things which we don't question. The point of the quote I submitted was that our lives lack the distractions of previous generations and for those who spend to much time in their heads, life is ultimately revealed to be meaningless.

At least that is how I read it. I liked that line because it felt critical on what I just mentioned. Not really sure why that is pathetic. Although what you said, apart from misreading the submission, is still very much correct and thus gets an upvote from me.

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Offensive_Brute 0 points1 point2 points 8 days ago[+] (0 children)
Offensive_Brute 0 points1 point2 points 8 days ago[-]
perhaps the authors thoughts are meaningless. My thoughts are my most prized possessions. My mental scrapbook, my thoughts and memories, are not valueless, they are priceless.

The author sounds like he needs to do some gardening.

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ysalex 0 points1 point2 points 9 days ago[+] (3 children)
ysalex 0 points1 point2 points 9 days ago[-]
What?

First, I suspect you wrote the submitted post. That aside, what you just said makes no sense.

We think the way we do to force external action to happen. Without internal pressure there is no external force. Actions would only be meaningless if we could not observe them or if they had no effect. But our actions are both effectual and observable, and thus they are meaningful, as the thread OP pointed out (and you agreed with).

But external actions are indicative of internal pressure. Therefore the internal pressure (our thoughts, feeling and emotions), have meaning. The biggest of meanings, actually. They are the driving force behind humanity. The are what makes us explore and excites us to discover. They incite love, hate, anger and fear. They push us to help or hurt one another and, most importantly, they give us reason to exist and survive. Without our thoughts there would be no 'survival of the fittest'.

Saying that thoughts mean nothing is like saying that the only thing that matters in a collision is the collision itself. But before the collision there were forces pushing the objects together, maybe even guiding them together. These guiding, pushing forces are our thoughts and perceptions. Reality is what you perceive.

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deadilyduplicate [S] 0 points1 point2 points 9 days ago[+] (2 children)
deadilyduplicate [S] 0 points1 point2 points 9 days ago[-]

But external actions are indicative of internal pressure. Therefore the internal pressure (our thoughts, feeling and emotions), have meaning. The biggest of meanings, actually. They are the driving force behind humanity. The are what makes us explore and excites us to discover. They incite love, hate, anger and fear.

Ok but actions only have meaning in a very superficial context. Once you remove yourself from that context you see them as pointless deterministic chains which have no real significance. I don't believe this to be a contentious claim. Countless writers have realized this. Tons of people suspect that once you probe to far into your reflections on life you realize that life is meaningless or it does not hold up to pure, unbiased reflection.

for example, you say that thoughts motivate us to explore, discover, etc but you do not provide reasons for why exploring and discovering are at all significant. Are we just supposed to accept that they are? well yes in fact. That is the whole point.

And I did not write the original submission, but that really does not matter since, at this point, I have certainly read far more into it then was intended.

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ysalex 0 points1 point2 points 9 days ago[+] (1 child)
ysalex 0 points1 point2 points 9 days ago[-]
I suppose you're making the assumption that because you cannot see the outcome of your actions on a larger scale, that they mean nothing on any scale.

It all depends what are you weighing an 'action' against. Personally, I find that my life makes sense, has 'weight', if only for the minuscule chemical reactions that take place within the beautiful head of my loved one, who's life I touch everyday.

But I think you're saying that, because we are contained within this universe, and after we all die the universe will still exist and humanity will be long forgotten, and long after entropy has caused even the universe to cease it's existence that nothing matters because the weight of our actions will not be see able, remember able or knowable at that point?

Well thats bullshit, because I made a girl smile this morning. And if time isn't a continuum then that smile lasts forever, somewhere. I made a girl smile forever.

You'll get over it. Trust me, everyone goes through this faze. You're just a little immature, but that fades with age and experience and eventually you won't find making bleak statements about the fragility and hopelessness of life to be as interesting and profound as you once might have thought.

Good luck with life. I hope you find whatever it is you need to make your actions mean something.

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deadilyduplicate [S] 0 points1 point2 points 9 days ago* [+] (0 children)
deadilyduplicate [S] 0 points1 point2 points 9 days ago* [-]

It all depends what are you weighing an 'action' against. Personally, I find that my life makes sense, has 'weight', if only for the minuscule chemical reactions that take place within the beautiful head of my loved one, who's life I touch everyday.

Yes and I have no problems with finding meaning in life. But you don't have to live your live blissfully unaware of the glaring nihilism. I can find meaning and still have the knowledge that this meaning is not absolute or objective.

I don't need to ignore this fact in order to be happy. To me that is immature.

(Edit: And it is unfair for you to me making assumptions about who I am. I am neither the author of the piece I submitted nor particularly young. I have gone in and out of phases of every flavour and didn't like the quote because it was profound, I liked it because of its critical tone.)

Going Back to Veggie, Mormon Democrats and Labor Day

2009-09-06T23:10:00.000-07:00

From the time that Stewart and I were married in '94 till our second baby was born, I was a vegetarian.

No greater cause involved, I just thought I try it for a few days and after that, meat just didn't look good to me anymore.

I think the one real advantage, health wise is, it forces you to premeditate meals.

When I get tired and it's dinner time, everyone knows it's going to be chicken and rice again. Now that I've gone veggie, that would mean just rice for me ( which would be cool if I were watching a Kurosawa samurai flick, with a bottle of Saki and some empty wrapping paper tubes for the slow scenes ). So vegetable steamer it is. I've found it's quick and easy to chop onions, peppers and a portabella mushroom with tomatoes and maybe some cheese on top. I almost always put out a spinach salad too but I just feel better having a nice platter of veggies. I love to see the kids with a nice colorful plate.

But what really spurred me on to go back to vegetarian was pure selfishness.

When I was a vegetarian, I weighed about 90lbs. I was also running about ten miles a day, in the heat, pushing a double jog stroller, something that's a bit easier to do ,time-wise, with one or two kids than it is now with five. But I think I'm going to refocus on that. I'm not so sure my knees can handle 10 miles a day but they can handle five or six.

On a different subject; Labor Day

Reading to our kids about the origin of labor day, reminded me of when I was ten and my mother went on strike.

I had a very Mormon family but they did have a secret .. . they were democrats. (Can you see here how I checked the libertarian box soon after my 18th birthday?)

I know there are some Mormon Democrats around but unless you are Harry Reid you're not getting invited to any fab LDS parties if anyone lets on.

Anyway, because of our strange household politics, there was a bit of a war going on.

Up until then, my dad could be literally leaning on the fresh pot of coffee (coffee!-another secret) and my mom could be literally across the room and my dad would ask her to pour a cup for him. And here's the weird part, she would do it.

Then came the whole equal rights amendments thing and I'm not sure how it all started but . . .

it ended with my mom marching around the house, hoisting a bottle of Era laundry detergent chanting;

"E" "R" "A" "E" "R" "A"

My dad even learned to make his own coffee after that small revolution.

-Tasha

Oath Keepers, cancer, T-shirts, homeschooling and the FBI

2009-09-03T15:30:00.000-07:00

My mom-in-law's cancer has really progressed and it has not been easy for hubby.

Her mother passed away recently and I think that may have been the catalyst for her downward spiral. It was extremely important to her to make a video of her mom's life for the memorial but she was in no shape to do it. Stewart and I are pretty low tech so, Jim Ayala, the guy who does the Oath Keeper videos stepped up and it meant the world to Dusty (my mom-in-law).

She was actually hospitalized by the time of the memorial so we held it in a chapel at the hospital.

One my fav pics. from the memorial video; Stew surprising his grandparents in the grape fields

Dusty was wheeled in- in her bed so she could be there. Dusty talked about overhearing her dying mother repeatedly praying for her as she walked away (Dusty was still able to walk on crutches before her mom died).

Happily it is not in any of her vital organs but it is throughout all her bones and wrapped around her spine and some of the tumors are quite large and are pressing on her nerves. The result is agonizing pain. She can no longer sit up on her own and the reason for her hospitalization was a broken femur as cancer had eaten through it.

The whole thing has been hard on Stewart. Dusty does not have insurance and as soon as her team of docs found out, all their talk about the attack plan went out the window and they sent her home. But she could not sit up or get up on her own at all, so every time she needed to get up Stewart would drive over to lift her.

( Do NOT take that rant as a hint at socialized medicine-just because I despise corporate style health care doesn't mean I want the government running it. You see here, why us libertarians have such angst? )

She has her daughter living there to help but sis isn't able to lift her straight up, the way she has to be lifted in order to not cause too much pain (though she' only 90 pounds now). So with legal work and Oath Keepers T-shirts and hat orders all piled to the ceiling and email that is just stunning Stew was spending hours a day caring for his mom. Of course, now he keeps getting sick from emotional and physical exhaustion.

All of this would be tolerable but you would not believe the things people say in email (The Oath Keeper email boxes now total 9,000 - 10,000 unanswered emails. Stew's personal email receives hundreds a day. ) And if you can believe it- he actually receives email multiple times a day from people who say things like- if you don't answer this email within two days it will mean __________ (fill in the blank with some ridiculous belief like you hate all Americans or you think forced vaccinations are totally fucking awesome).

Now you know people don't generally say things like that in everyday correspondence so it must be something that control freak types save for people they know don't have time to answer as way of using force to get an answer. Some have even posted our address on the net; essentially threatening me and the kids, claiming Stew didn't write up what they told him to, so he must be a plant.

Oh well, nutty people on all sides , I guess.

And ya- we're all getting death threats from all over the web now, but mostly from the non-violent left.

Looking back at grandma's memorial video, I find it funny that people have been accusing hubby of being a white racist. He has the most racially and culturally mixed family I've ever known. Raised in a mix of Filipino and Mexican cultures. It was totally a requirement before we got married that I learn to make chicken adobo from grandpa and tortillas form grandma.

Oh well, but back my regular life. I have gone on Oath Keeper strike. And happily found some awesome people to do all the shipping. The emails are still looking for help but may wind up going on a ticket system.

So today I am actually getting back to the whole "homeschooling mom of five thing."

The laundry does not wait on politics (if it did, I'd run for president).

We're trying out Susan Wise Bauer's The History of the Ancient World. Looks good so far. The little ones are doing the Story of the World. This is my second round on that one and we're using the audio CD to save my voice. Also we're trying out Singapore Math and dumping Saxon, I'm tried of spending six hours a day doing "busy math".

Now for some good news, when Dusty was going to the hospital, the paramedic said his mom was in the same state and was saved by some experimental treatments. Well, it turns out that same team of docs was willing to take on Dusty. Her first treatment is today and I promise promise that I will update everyone on that.

Now before anyone sends me stuff on alternative cancer treatments, let me add this. Until she ran out of money she was going to an alternative hospital in Mexico and is still doing the raw food thing. They did amazing things for her there but it's all cash on hand. No surprise though, that kick-ass experimental medicine here is some of the same stuff they do in Mexico standard. I have high hopes for Today.

In other news, as long as Dusty responds well to treatment, we are going back to Montana.

Our backyard before we left Montana -no need to show our current backyard as a comparison, as it's posted all over the net ; )

Honestly, my kids deserve a better childhood than they can have in Vegas. My oldest turns 13 in a few months and I have an obsession about giving him a tree to build a tree-house in before he's too old.

Oh and a message to "non-violent" folks at the Daily Kos who are calling for the death and or imprisonment of me, my husband and my children, who think the FBI ( who they hated for eight years but now love ) should round us up. . .

You'll be happy to know that we did, in fact, receive a visit from the FBI the other day . . .

Dakota checking his target at an Appleseed shoot (One of those violent American heritage gatherings, where they tell stories and shoot real guns)

Oh wait, that's right . . . they were just here to pick up Oath Keeper bumper stickers.

-Tasha

Do I look like a bitch? Maybe I am. But I'm a libertarian bitch.

2009-05-31T13:58:00.000-07:00

I'm considering removing those last post because some freaks from around the web are copying my blog and "discussing " it.

Apparently liberals have suddenly caught a disease. Wherein they now believe the executive is all powerful and saying anything against him amounts to treason.

Liberals, Listen Up

For eight years I've been yelling from the roof tops til I was blue in the face warning against Bush and essentially everything he was doing and or about to do.

For eight years liberals have been saying "right on". We're with you. The President should not be a dictator.

I have not changed!!!

I'm saying the same thing but now receive a totally different response. "Where have you been for the last eight years. What do you mean Obama can't do this? "

I've been here! Where are they now?

If I say I'm being targeted for my political beliefs they say,"What? Well, how does it feel? This is what we've been dealing with for eight years."

If warn against Obama's gun grabbing pals, they say "What? That's fear mongering! "

Listen you "tolerant" liberals; say what again. Say what one more goddamn time.

Do I look like a bitch?

Maybe I am.

But I'm a libertarian bitch.

-Tasha

I thought this was cartoon was cute but I'm much more of an AR-15 kind of girl myself.

Oath Keepers has taken over my life!

2009-05-30T12:46:00.000-07:00

When we needed a break from OK, I kidnapped my entire family to the mountains of Utah-no computers aloud.

You guys, this things has just gone nuts.

As a homeschooling mom of five, it's not like I hang around eating bon bons all day. I often fall asleep with shoes on and rarely get through half the the things I'm supposed to do without the OK thing.

So sometime in March, Stewart says he's starting up a little project he's been tinkering with for a while.

There were a few get togethers of old friends and new and then he launched it-just put up a Blogspot called Oath Keepers and two weeks later a hundred thousand people showed up.

Now two months later the MySpace is around 5oo friends (which is amazing because I run that and I have now idea what I'm doing) blog followers are around 400, Twitter is only at 130 but again the problem is I run it, 900 posts on the message board, Facebook is well on the way t0 3,000 friends, Youtube is at 1200 subscribers - it is nuts.

And every one of us are trying to maintain a normal job of some type. None of us are getting any sleep, the emails are coming in by the thousands, and if we don't shut them off, the phones ring all day (and we've never made our phones public) .

It's all a good thing but, holy cow!

I have a few other thoughts to share about how crazy this has become in another way but I think I'll cut off here and put that in a different post. It definitely deserves it's own space.

-Tasha

Aaahhh isn't hubby cute?

2009-04-28T10:52:00.000-07:00

Oath Keepers, Lexington

Oathkeepers.blogspot.com Coming soon . . . Oathkeepers.org

2009-03-14T22:33:00.000-07:00

The third photo on the wall is a picture of my dad. He passed away in 2006 , some of you may remember the post about it.

To everyone who emailed and commented here and around the web on my sister-in-law, thank you. I apologize for not giving a faster update but you know how emotionally draining these things can be.

She is doing much better and maybe her child to teen emotional state actually has helped to bounce back.

We're taking her skating with the kids this week. And then we'll think on how to handle the legal end.

In other news: hubby and friends have come up with something. It started out as a weekend long discussion a year or two ago and after launching it about a week ago has taken off like wildfire. Take a look.

Oath Keepers discussed with Jack McLamb on Alex Jones 3-13-09

2009-03-14T22:21:00.000-07:00

Heart Rocks-Imagine Britney doing a Led Zeppelin cover?

2009-02-08T12:05:00.000-08:00

I had a ton of fun going to a Heart concert Friday night. Although I've never mentioned it on here, I am a die hard fan.

It occurred to me while listening to Ann sing that although she has an amazing voice, if she were just starting out today, she wouldn't have a chance because she doesn't look like Britney Spears.

In order to get radio play today you have to have enough money to pay the larger radio stations and in order to do that you need funding and in order to get funding you need to fit the formula; Britney fits it, Ann doesn't.

Watching them reminded me of the vast difference between the boy/girl band generation of music and the generation that grew up in the 50s and 60s.

I remembered as a kid watching the Osmond's (of course-we actually went to church with them) and the Mandrel sisters' shows, they all played multiple instruments, wrote music and sang at church concerts growing up. Against that family background there may have been one or two standouts who had both a lifelong study of music and preforming behind them and also an amazing natural talent that was obvious to all.

This was how stars were born and this is what I saw watching Ann and Nancy put down a guitar and pick up a mandolin, drop a microphone and pick up a flute, put down a mandolin pick up a harmonica ect. and then laughed to myself imagining Britney running around grabbing instruments trying to figure out which end to play (No hate to Britney, I simply don't know the names of any other recent pop star types. You can insert any pop artist's name there, I'm sure.)

Ann Wilson has a voice that is stunning. Like listening to an opera singer at their peak; just her voice alone can send a chill down your spine. But their music is also a lot of fun. And even more fun when your hubby surprises you with tickets :) like mine did.

And since I can't seem to post even about a rock concert without it turning political, I'll have to add this. If you remember during he election Sara Palin's nickname during high school was Sara Barracuda. And whenever she came out to give a speech, she came out to Heart's Barracuda.

Being one of the original Seattle garage bands with the politics that the culture demands, Heart was not happy and supposedly published this letter. It appears to be a spoof done by a Seattle paper, but is funny just the same.

Some Heart clips below as well.

-Tasha

Nancy doing Tom Petty's You Wreck me

Ann's version of Immigrant Song

Barracuda

Another reason Montana Rocks-Glacier Bank Tells Government to Fuck Off!

2009-02-02T12:45:00.000-08:00

That's right, Glacier Bank turned down the bailout money.

One more reason to love Montana.

What's not to love about a state that threatens succession over the Heller decision and is at it again over the made in Montana firearms bill. Why the Freestaters chose New Hampshire I'll never know

"Also, then the government would become a shareholder in the bank. Philosophically, we sure didn't think it was a road we wanted to go down. " -President and Chief Executive Officer Mick Blodnick

Take that Bank of America!

And what road are they talking about? Maybe the Road to Serfdom?

We've been banking with BoA by default since they took over the local Vegas bank we had an account with some 15 years ago.

But here's the thing, when we move back to Montana this spring/summer, I'm closing that piece of crap account and opening one with Glacier.

For me to say anything positive about a bank is bordering on a miracle.

Those who have been regular readers know that I was completely traumatized by a bank when at nineteen years old, the Mormon credit union I belonged to made me call my mother from the manager's office when I wanted to withdraw money.

The money was to purchase a car with my boyfriend.

Buying a car together suggested we lived together, which suggested we had sex together, which suggested the bank manager had to get my mom on the phone right away (ya, the same guy I married and have five children with).

So anyway, Mick Blodnick, I fully support what you're doing but if you ever try to make me call my mother, it's over.

-Tasha

Nation's No. 1 bank turns down bailout money

By NANCY KIMBALL/Daily Inter Lake

Published: Saturday, January 31, 2009 11:46 PM CST
Glacier tops financial scorecard

Glacier Bancorp of Kalispell made national headlines twice last week.

Bank Director magazine named it the best bank in the country. And Glacier announced it would take no bailout money from the federal government's Troubled Assets Relief Program.

President and Chief Executive Officer Mick Blodnick is honored that the nationally respected magazine put the bank holding company in the lead spot in its annual ranking of the top 150 performers nationwide.

But there's more to the story.

"What we as a company, all of our 11 banks collectively, take more pride in is the fact that for the last five years we have been in the top five," Blodnick said Friday. "We were number two last year and number three the year before.

"Number one is nice," he said, "but all of us feel more proud of the fact that consistently we have been up there for some time."

Glacier Bancorp, with $5.03 billion in assets, is the holding company for Glacier Bank in the Flathead Valley and 10 other independent banks in Montana, Idaho, Wyoming, Utah, Colorado and Washington.

The magazine's top ranking is compiled from six different criteria measuring return on average assets, return on average equity, two measures of capital adequacy, and two indicators of loan quality.

More here

Damn, it feels good to be a banksta

2009-01-31T10:51:00.000-08:00

Now that your neighbor's stuff is all piled up on their lawn, don't you just feel better knowing these guys have 37 million dollar apartments, thanks to us?

-Tasha