Water Lilly Alley

WTF?

Judge Rules in 'That's So Gay' Case
By LISA LEFF (Associated Press)
From Associated Press
May 15, 2007 10:20 PM EDT

SANTA ROSA, Calif. - A judge ruled Tuesday that a high school student who sued after being disciplined and then mercilessly teased for using the phrase "That's so gay" is not entitled to monetary damages.

Sonoma County Superior Court Judge Elaine Rushing said she sympathized with 18-year-old Rebekah Rice for the ridicule she experienced at Maria Carrillo High School. But, the judge said, Rice's lawyers failed to prove that school administrators had violated any state laws or singled the girl out for punishment.

"All of us have probably felt at some time that we were unfairly punished by a callous teacher, or picked on and teased by boorish and uncaring bullies," the judge wrote in a 20-page ruling. "Unfortunately, this is part of what teenagers endure in becoming adults."

The Rices argued that a teacher violated Rebekah Rice's First Amendment rights by sending her to the principal's office and putting a note in her school file. During a trial in February, Rebekah Rice testified she said "That's so gay" as a response to other students asking her rude questions about her Mormon upbringing.

Isn’t that most bizarre thing you have ever heard? sheesh. Kids.

That is so fucking gay.

Can't Get No...

So, I’m on my way home from work yesterday afternoon. Not that Sunday works for me is a workday but I can use the money and it was basically easy spreadsheet work, but truth be known I would have rather been having lunch with anyone by the name of Nancy.

However, that was not in the cards, so instead on my way home, I had the radio on to one of the classic rock stations in the area. And lo and behold, Mick Jagger and the boys come on doing one of my all time faves: Tumbling Dice.

Now I have been listening to The Stones since day one. When everyone else was all ga-ga about The Beatles, Dave Clark Five, Herman’s Hermits, Jerry and the Pacemakers and of course who could forget Freddy and the Dreamers I was slamming’ with The Stones, Moby Grape, Janis, Jimi and Iron Butterfly. But yesterday, I came to a horrendous realization on The Stones:

I don’t have a fucking clue as to what they were singing about this entire time.

Satisfaction: Something about cigarettes and his shirt isn’t as white as mine.
Paint it Black: Windows painted black.
Ruby Tuesday: Sort of made something out of that- with the likes of: Dont question why she needs to be so free / She’ll tell you its the only way to be/
She just cant be chained /To a life where nothings gained / And nothings lost/ At such a cost

Then again, that really makes no sense at all but at least one could make out at least twenty audible words.

So when I heard Tumbling Dice, that is what I heard – Tumbling Dice. I’m sure there were other lyrics but what were they?

I wouldn’t be surprised if Mick Jagger was not so much a singer as some kind of instrument someone in the band plays, a electronic device with  high and low tones of various gargles, grunts, and moans with a few on the spot audible syllables tossed in for good measure. In short, Mick sings like Keith Richard talks.

I asked a workmate the other day what if Keith Richards and Ozzie Osborne were engaged in a conversation, which of the two would say “What?” first. 

I still enjoy The Stones. One of my favorite all time albums would be ‘Exile on Main Street
and I still think the best song ever would be ‘Loving Cup’ off same album.

The upside is that when you sing along with any of The Stone’s songs, the most you will need to remember is one line, two if it’s a studio recording.

And here’s a tip for y’all. You remember Beast of Burden from the ‘Some Girls’ album?

Well the next time your wailing along with the song… it’s “My beast of burden’ not  ‘My pizzas burnin.

Just sayin…

 

 

Ten Miles To School In Five Feet of Snow

Happy Mother’s Day everyone, I do wish you very best of what this day has to offer and yet I would like to take a moment to reflect on this glorious day of days.

Remember when Mother’s day was for Mom? One’s own mother? Well that concept sort of gets blown out of the water as each and every year comes and goes. My mom passed several years ago and I think of her often. So as with her birthday, on Mother’s Day she is very much here in thought and memory.

However, the older one becomes, the more the mother entity seems to split and one becomes two, two into four, four into eight and on and on and on. Daughters. Daughter in Laws. Sisters. Aunts. Cousins. Friends – international and stateside. Coworkers. And by some mystery known only to the Gods of The Lifetime Channel they all end up related to you in some fashion or another.

Everyone is a mother…. The woman that strips down at Furry Bunny / Buffet Hot Spot… Yup, a mother.

Every one has dropped a crouch cricket at one time or another and this entitles them to at best… Chocolate for the savvy, flowers for the sentimental, and God all-mighty… diamonds for the lovers.

Lucky for me I have my two moms narrowed down to my daughter – gift certificate to Amazon. She’s quite sensible and my daughter in law. I’m setting her up with framed photos for her new remodeled bathroom. Actually my Son wanted the photos but I mentioned that if we tied the photos into a Mother’s Day gift then that would take some of the pressure off of his shopping time and we could both get Mom credit.

Now, one would think I’m against Mother’s Day but that is simply not true. It’s just that I find it a little intimidating when it comes to Father’s Day. If one forgets Father’s Day, it’s no big deal, in fact, if family members forget Father’s Day, then the best thing to do is unite, not say anything at all and more likely than not… Dad will be oblivious to it as well. And with good reason… who needs another tie?

You see, that's the deal. Dad would love a fishing boat, but family reasons that with a nice tie a promotion may be in the works. A fishing boat amounts to smelly clothes, drunken buddies and fishhooks stuck in numerous appendages with a gross factor of 10. Not to mention DEAD FISH!

A tie… hmmmn looking smart and spiffy at the office could mean more money and more money allows for a fun Christmas.  Simple really

I know… It sucks to be me…   

Although, when you break it down… If more women were in charge of what is going on in this world we would be a hell of a lot better off. Because before things really get out of hand. A woman of substance will look you straight in the eye and say… “We need to talk” 

And I don’t know about you… but ever time those words were directed at me… in the long run my life turned out for the better.

Happy Mother’s Day All. You really have earned it.

Ever Wonder?

Ever wonder what happens of

Old men,
childless women,

little Boy's dreams,
three legged dogs,
caged birds,

hurried Sundays,

and boxcars
that people long
gave up counting…

when no one is looking?

Bee Stuff: Day Two - The Hella Bee

Unlike mud daubering wasps with their serrated stingers that can be easily removed by the wasp to sting again, the bee's stinger is barbed. Once the stinger pierces, the attached venom pouch slams a mixture containing melittin, histamine, and a strong dose of the Ouch factor and other enzymes into the target: A very powerful deterrent to non-bee personnel. But - no pun intended- when the bee pulls away, the barb anchors the stinger in the victim's body along with the bee’s entire ass.   

Now tell me if that isn’t some kind of cosmic joke.  Perhaps if the warmongers of this country had the same program going on they wouldn’t be so quick to go to war.  One thing would be for sure… if you did go to war you would have to pick your victim with love and understanding because hatred and vengeance is really not a long lasting thing when it comes to dropping your entire lower extremities off like you don’t need them.    But I digress.

Sigh…

However, the upside to this sting and retire program is that when a honeybee stings another insect such as a honey plundering moth, she does not leave her stinger planted in the invader, in fact, when she retreats from the insect victim, her barbed stinger tears through the invaders exoskeleton.  Or as Mr. Dylan so vividly points out: “Just like a woman…”

Now before you get all Don Imus and slam me for woman bashing because that is not what I’m all about.  I mean there are some freaking vicious men out there as well.  In fact I pretty much stated that in the first part of this post about losing one’s ass
indiscriminately and yet most men do just that. 

So today lets take a look at the notorious Female Urban Hellababe Bee.

As you can see she is very protective of her flower and very determined to keep other invaders away from her luscious honey garden.  She is remarkably identifiable with what we call in the bug world: The Breast Shadow Sash. This shadow line is known to deceive larcenous honey hunters into a false realm of late afternoon thus causing them to turn tail and head on home before dark.

Once they leave, our Hellababe Bee is free to sting another day if need be and therefore she maintains her prestige as the first wall of defense when it comes to cross-pollinating.

Tomorrow we will explore the wonderful world of the Two Handed Blind Wanker Bee.

To Bee or Not To Bee

It has been reported as recently as of last week that in 24 states throughout the country that bees have been disappearing inexplicably at an alarming rate. This disappearing act is not only threatening the livelihood of the nation’s beekeepers but also affects numerous crops as well.

A beekeeper in Visalia, California got the shock of his life when he opened several of his bee boxes only to find half of his 100 million bees. The other half… Missing. Gone. Kaput. Poof!

I think it was Einstein that said if all the bees in the world were to vanish we would most likely follow in their demise within four years.

FOUR YEARS kids.

I don’t mean to be an alarmist but 50 million bees missing from one farm is a fright in itself. We as human beings need to do something as soon as possible or be dealt a hand that could possibly be worse than the 2000 Presidential Elections.

And that something needs to begin with you and me.

So for my part I have hit the streets in search of human counterparts to take the place of our little buzzy friends in the event that they do indeed go tits up in the next few years. I will continue to provide you with the latest in bee news and keep you updated in my quest to find the perfect human bee for the job at hand.

And with that said my friends I would like to introduce you to today’s unique find.

Boys and Girls… I present

The African Urban Hip-Hop Hu-Bee.

Bees are not fast fliers. Yes, their wings may beat close to 11,000 cycles per minute but in the heart of things this barely adds up to only about 15 bee miles per hour, whereas a true fly in the genus Forcipomyia Giddyuptus can flap its wings at 62,000 cycles per minute.

However…

The African Urban Hip-Hop Hu-Bee is so fast, mind you, that our team had to have special aerodynamic headgear designed to deal with the severe wind shear. At first this posed quite a dilemma until one of our engineers decided to place the wind shear deflector on the back of the headgear so as to create an even air flow up and over the head area.

More Hu-Bee Facts

 The average honey bee posses five eyes. The three Ocelli are simple eyes that discern light intensity. While the other two large compound eyes are suited for movement. At first we thought not to play God and tamper with the nature of things but then our scientific yearnings fell prey to our style conscious cravings and we decided on two inner eyes to foresee movement in the environment and two outer eyes to discern and control – control being the key factor here – any and all light sources.

This outer eye apparatus is connected to an audible unit that fits directly over the ears to aid in rhythmatic wing flapage. This audible thumping over the ears can usually be heard as far away as 100 meters in what one naturalist described as a steady “boom, boom, boom.

The African Urban Hip-Hop Hu-Bee can easily be identified by its bright chest colors. These markings, scientist believe is also used to warn off the dreaded Mississippi Cracker Hu-bee: A long time natural enemy to the Hip-Hop Hu-Bee family

As a reporter for this blog… I feel that by working closely with our human counterparts alongside the insect world we may not only survive this missing bee crisis but may end up taking a huge load off of our little bee buddies thus leaving them more time to make honey in the sun while the world babbles on.

Tomorrow, We will come face to face with the Urban Shadow Sash Hu-Bee. 

50 million bees missing from one farm… damn. Even if you were to spread them out, you still see a few hundred of them hanging out… that is a conundrum…

 

Nothing Lasts Forever, Not Even Five Minutes

Los Angeles – City of Angels. It’s so damn good to be back home and in one piece, mind you. I was sure that of yesterday 1425h daylight savings time that I was about to become what I was before I was what I am now. In other words - a sparse space of nothing. But I’m getting a bit ahead of myself.

Five days earlier.

Friday May 4^th I boarded Southwest flight 307 to visit my Son, his wife, and both grandkids to celebrate my umpteenth birthday on the 5^th of May in Reno, Nevada. All went well, flight was delightful and the visit was very gratifying to say the least.

My granddaughter just turned a year this past April and is at the stage where she can crawl, scream, puke and utilize her special powers of inquisitiveness to her full advantage. So all in all it was a great family affair. “Ex One” came over to say ‘hi’ two days of the four that I was there and I must say she has aged well into the mode of reasonableness to the point that I’m not as gun shy from her as in years past. In fact not once did I concern myself with having to know where the nearest exit was located. Then again I never let my guard down, for at any given moment I’m sure she could morph back into the She-Witch from the netherworld at the drop of a pin. The supernatural is that way ya’know.

Time to leave came and went an as of 1425h yesterday my flight found its way on a steep decent into Burbank. I did find this a little unusual because Burbank sports one of the shortest runways in the Los Angeles area and so a long slow decent is the fare of the day. Yet, we were coming in rather fast and in the two minutes of airplane time that we were to touch down, the plane swooped the runway and began another accent. A little unnerving but I figured nothing to really worry about… Until we circled for the third time… with rotors grinding, wing flaps groaning, and the hydraulics doing that god awful thing that they do when you think that for sure they are going to give out and forfeit the ability to lift in that special way to keep everyone joyful and happy.

We come in for a touch down the third time and then abort.

Now things were getting a bit out of hand and it would be safe to say three quarters – if not more - of the people on board were now calling upon their respective sky-gods of Christianity, Judaism and Islam to intervene. I mean they had Yahweh, Jesus, The Father, The Holy Spirit, Wotan, Odin and Allah all lined up and struggling for a place in the grandstand of things to see who was going to be hailed as the one great almighty savior of flight 1457.

I’m not saying I was not as frightened as the next guy but what I will say is that the old adage of there are no atheists in a foxhole is a load of crap, because, if for any fucking moment I thought there might be a god I would have given full notice then and there and opted for cutting some kind of deal with any one of the available deities at hand, but none seem to suit me even in this time of personal distress.

So instead… I decided that in what I thought was going to be my last few moments on this planet that perhaps I should re-associate myself with the 14 by 17 inch color glossy, fully laminated, tri-folded crash brochure that I never gave a freaking second thought to in the all the flights I have ever boarded. Now it was making a lot of sense and that someone, somewhere in time must have figured that something would or possibly could go wrong when trying to bring a gazillion ton wiener mobile with jet engines safely back to ground and felt that a brochure  to inform unbelievers in ways to make themselves useful in this time of mechanical mayhem would come in handy.

For some people praying I’m sure felt like the thing to do but I also felt that the grandstand of gods that everyone seem to be pleading to was nothing more than a gaggle of traffic controllers whispering under bated breaths “What The Fuck is that all about, there is going to be so much paperwork.”

Well, all turns out well because we made it in on the last fly though. And it was only after we came to a full stop that the captain came over the PA system with: “Sorry for the incontinence and delay on our approach, but there was a strong wind coming out of the north, thus causing us to come in on a westerly runway.”

WHAT a bunch of shit…

There were fire trucks on the tarmac…

The moral is this tale I guess would be that if you can’t find God in a moment of crisis, a fire truck will have to do.