What is the most powerful word in the world? My daughter asked me that today. Naturally, having been raised in the Christian persuasion, I said, “Ah hell, honey, love. Duh.”

And then I thought about living in California for two years, and I couldn’t help but remember the fruity-tutti’s (newagers – don’t worry I love them all) saying that the word “hate” was so powerful and destructive that they don’t even say it. Ever. Bad vibration. That’s pretty powerful.

And then I really got into it. D*mn, hell, shit, f**k, bastard, bitch, the “c” word (that I don’t quite like but have started using on occasion while driving, but only in reference to certain bastards who deserved that extra little itty bit more…) Those words are so powerful that they’ve been banned from most mainstream media outlets…

But no; it couldn’t be swear words. Those are ultimately an expression of a persons weakness in a way…(but you gotta love them. And I do.)

So what is the most powerful word in the world? Well, my daughter proceeded to tell me that two of her friends – one guy, one girl - totally unrelated, had randomly come up with the same word.

Maybe.

The guy said he thought it was the most powerful word in the word because it left one hoping. As in, “Maybe there’ll be a good reason for getting out of bed today…if I do.”

The girl said that by using the word “maybe” one could continue holding the reins for as long as one wanted (my own paraphrasing). Which kept her in the drivers seat. Certainly a most powerful position to be in.

Such a simple conversation. But after it was over I suddenly remembered one of the things I hated most about my ex-husband: his favorite word (words): “It depends.” Which is another version of “maybe”.

He kept me dangling for ten years with those words.

Example: “Do you think you, (I, we) should (could, can, will) do this (that, the other thing) honey?”

“It depends.”

Or: “What do you think about this, dear?”

“It depends.”

I kept waiting for an answer, thinking I’d get one. But I never did. Talk about treading water. Until I left the pond for happier shores (horizons).

After much thought, it turns out that I do believe that “maybe” is the most powerful word in the world. Only I tend to subscribe to the “masculine” persuasion: the idea that “maybe” holds a promise of something good to come if I do something to make it happen (as in get out of bed, leavea bad marriage, etc.)…

…as opposed to the “feminine” persuasion: the idea that one can hold onto control indefinitely by refusing to take a stand.

What do you think is the most powerful word in the world? I’m curious.

One of the nations biggest bra makers stated that three years ago, the most common size in the country was 36C. In 2008, it was 36D and will increase to 36DD in 2009. Wacoal won’t even venture a guess as to when or where the increases will end.

The Center for Disease Control and Prevention (yes, the government had to get in on it) blames the increase in breast size to obesity but does conceed that it also might be due to women being fitted with the correct size. Women, especially teenagers, selected a bra one size too small, to show off what they have. Being fitted for a bra instead of just selecting one off the rack took off after Oprah (The Queen of talk) devoted an entire show to buying the correct size.

Breast augmentation has kept up with inflation (no pun intended) as more women, for unknown reasons, seek to improve on what they have. Not only in the United States but in other countries as well. A Texas woman, who shall remain anonymous, had to travel to South America to finally get what she wanted, two pounds of silicon in each breast, giving her a 48KKK bra size (custom made no less. Back brace not included). It appears that Texas has a law regulating just how much a woman can improve herself and she had reached the limit.I also heard that Pamela Anderson wanted to donate her implants to the Smithsonian Museum but was turned down. Will they show up on Ebay?

I don’t consider myself a prude, I’m past 60 years old and spent 10 years in the Navy traveling southeast Asia, so I think I’ve seen it all. I went through the Flower Power and Free Love society of the 60s and 70s and saw just what a young woman would go through, or so I thought. Men burned their draft cards, women burned their bras. Watching women take off their bras in downtown Long Beach, California and tossing them into a pile was a sailors delight. There were more teats hanging out than at a dairy farm.

Any scientist can tell you that breasts are only meant for one thing, breast feeding the young. Try tell any raging harmone teenager that and see what answer you get. Breasts come in all sizes; big, small, well rounded, pointed, soft, firm but as someone once told me, “Anything more than a mouthfull shouldn’t be wasted.” Also, one size does not fit all and that’s where bra fitting comes in, a job any man would kill for. Victoria’s Secret probably has the lock of sexy bras, the ones that are there but can’t be seen, barely more than two band aids, and tease the male to no end.

Personally, I like something left to the imagination, something like unwrapping a Christmas gift on Christmas day.

Firstly, I feel it important to point out that sex doesn’t make the relationship, but it sure does fill in those awkward silences quite nicely.

Women; please don’t refer to it as a Tally whacker. If you are talking about our penis; call it by its God given name; Kilauea. OK, You can call it a penis, pecker, cock, dick, Willy the One eyed Wonder Worm or the Heat Seeking Moisture Missile.

Now, let me point out that there is no such thing as a bisexual man. Women can be bisexual, and that is one of the most beautiful things on earth. At least in the videos it is. Realistically, the women that like women only are more like guys than guys. They dress, talk, act and chew tobacco, like fucking storm troopers and parade outside abortion clinics looking to score with poor unsuspecting and emotionally downtrodden girls that just had society and an asshole of a guy dump on them. You know: easy prey. I have to applaud the idea no matter how Jay and Silent Bob-esque it is.

Fags and Dikes are not bisexual. They ONLY like their own kind. Women can be bisexual. Men cannot be bisexual because you either suck dick or you don’t. I know there are those people out there that say that if they could suck their own dick they would never leave the house. I say go right the fuck ahead and stay home because now you’re just another fag with a dick in your face, even if it is your own dick! After establishing this we can move on.

Women use sex to get what they want. With men; sex IS what they want. I call this a symbiotic relationship. We want what you can give us but we have to give you what you want to get it. Make this easier for both of us. Ask for your spoils WHILE you give us oral sex.

Acting like you don’t like sex doesn’t work either. I’ve heard you screaming out God’s name, my name, your ex-boyfriends name, and even your own damn name while you gouge your fingernails through the sheets, the back of my head, and my butt cheeks. So STOP it! If you didn’t like sex you wouldn’t own that pink plastic torpedo named BUZZ!

Women act like they aren’t ready to bump uglies when you meet them because they want to seem virtuous. You aren’t really virgins, all dressed in white cotton panties and experiencing booze and these naughty feelings for the first time. You just want respected and you think that we won’t respect you if we think you’ll give it up easy. If the truth be told; we probably wouldn’t be hanging around if we didn’t think you were going to give it up in the first place.

We really do respect girls who know what they want and don’t put up airs that they aren’t looking to get laid. Ok, I’m lying. We really don’t respect anyone, so don’t think that it matters if you were easy to hop in the sack with or not.

Refer back to the alcohol statement about men and fat chicks and you will understand better WHY you woke up with Buford B. Blue inside your apartment frying up a mess O’ grits an m’lasses last weekend. Booze is a two way street. The difference is that a woman knows BEFORE she goes out whether she’s getting laid that night. Guys pretty much have to wing it.

The drunker you get, the more likely we are getting lucky. The drunker we get, the more likely we are going to get a D.U.I., because once we are fucked up enough we lose all perception of volume, couth and time. We get loud, obnoxiously forward, and then suddenly realize that the bar closed a half an hour ago. One more shot for the ditch and the next thing we can focus on are the shiny tops of the police officer’s jack boots that we just puked fourteen shots of Jack Daniels on during the roadside sobriety test.

You get giggly, somber, and /or downright unruly when you get drunk. If we play our cards right, we get you ladies just loaded enough to convince you to take us home while not so drunk that we have to wash the vomit off before we use you as a human trampoline. In other words we end up with Miss Right Now.

Alcohol is a treacherous thing though. Many times while stalking for the right trophy babe to ply with alcohol a pretender pops into the scene and we end up with a coyote girl sleeping on our arm in the morning. Yes, we would rather gnaw an arm off than take the chance of waking Bubbles the Dancing Bear up by pulling it out from under her head.

I used to be energetic, fun, loving etc… now all the good staff i have is going down due to the life I’m leading. I’m married but separated and live together. very unhealthy situation and on top of that i lost my job that really made me unhappy but I went back to school and almost done with my 2 years community college and hoping to transfer to university in fall 09 or spring 2010. I tried to get a job at grocery store or just an office clerk job b/c i have a good experience in office job or grocery job. I applied many places but it seems like i just couldn’t make it. No luck. The only positive thing i had last semester i pass all 4 transferable class with an A, that was really cool. I sometimes I feel like dating but my situation is won’t let me do that and been in relationship is a west of my time b/c the last 3 relationship i had wasn’t that great. I feel like i can be a good wife to a good man. I feel like i will feel better if i get a job where i can interact with people. just to get out and do something. Or may be a voluntary job on the field I’m studying (Business) even that i couldn’t get that.  Sometimes i think I’m depressed but i just can’t go see a doctor cause i don’t have insurance. I feel really good when i go running. I do run 2 or 3 times a week.  I do have some guy friends (just friends) but the girls have an issue all the time so i don’t have a girl friends. is there a place for me until i finish my education. I just want to do something even for free like entry level job that relate to my major (Accounting) . Is it even normal for attractive 27 year old women to just be shut off in side? is this b/c i expected too much in life? i only want to get a job and lead my life so that i can feel less of a looser. why is this so hard for ppl like me that would love to work and do something positive but it get to the point were i feel like i can’t do much b/c of the freak-in managers or supervisor rejecting my resume. The funny thing is i see people that are slow mentally have a job  ( nothing against them) but they have a job at grocery store as a bagger or what ever.

The only thing i have is my school, exercising and looking for a job. I don’t even look at guy any more off course except my friends cause I’m shut off b/c of my freak in husband who played on my emotion. I feel like I’ll be really happy if i get a job Why do we have to suffer for the ppl in the power chair screwed the economy and they get belled out and me and other ppl like me got left frustrated.

ahhhhhhhhhhh!!!

hey feel free to share Ur opinion.

                Tyler. Connor. Logan. Dylan. McKenzie. Jarrett.  Jackson. These were last names of families in my neighborhood growing up. These days, you’re just as likely to find a last name of Connor as you are a first name of Connor. In fact, I am willing to bet most day cares are littered with Taylors and Jordans. I hate this trend. When did it get in vogue to take common last names and make them first names? I blame the motarded parents.

                I am sure the discussion started something like this. “Uh, yea, honey, this is the third test, and it’s saying positive.” “That is awesome, sweetie. What are we going to name it? Whatever, I am sure our kid will be the most precious, important kid in all the land.” “Yes, dear, I sure do agree. We must name him/her something unique. Surely, when he/she cures the common cold/restores peace to the Middle East/shits gold, they must have a superior name.” “Pookums, we can name it after my recently departed Uncle Joe. Or perhaps your mother Sara.” “Get a clue, dunderhead. Our offspring surely can’t sport a common name. No, the name must be regal. It must be a name that not a lot of kids these days have.” “David? Rebecca? Pat? Amy? Kevin? They are all swell names.” Slapping her forehead, she says, “Shit, I knew you should have used a condom. Look, I think there’s a great name right next door to us. I think their last name would make a fine first name for our progeny.” “You want to name our kid Tomaszewski?” “No, moron, I think we should name it Cooper.”

                Yes, this trend of using formerly last names as first names is the result of parents trying to sound original. Because snowflake will be so special. Get over it. Don’t hex your kid. And it’s certainly not just ‘normal’ parents. No, celebutards are to blame as well. It just might be worse there. Surely, the offspring of such MENSA members as Gwyneth Paltrow & Chris Martin, Bono & Edge of U2, actrors Shannyn Sossamon and Jason Lee will surely erase cancer and acne off the face of the earth. They must be granted ‘special’ names. It is well known that Paltrow and Martin named their first demonseed Apple. Apple? Seriously, WTF? Even Steve Jobs isn’t that self absorbed. Why in the blue hell would you curse your kid by naming them “Apple”?I can just imagine, when poor, poor Apple is getting beat up by the other girls at the haughty boarding school (while her parents are on holiday on the coast). Bam! “And this is for that other shitty movie your mom made!” Bam, fist meets shoulder in effort to give a dead arm. “And this is for your dad being in Radiohead! Everyone hates that band!” Apple will sob back, “But…but my dad is in Coldplay!” “Really,” her agitator will pause to roll up her sleeves more, “well you shouldn’t have told me that.”

                It must be some rule to be in U2 that you have to name your kids wacky names. Keep in mind, the 2 individuals with horribly gaudy, made up names damned their kids by really naming them Memphis Eve and Blue Angel. Wow, talk about pretentious. Sossamon named her kid Audio Science. Lee named his son Pilot Inspektor. I guess that might be from Russian descent with the ‘k’ and all. Perhaps Burger Flipper doesn’t quite carry the same cache.

                I also find it comical that when a birth comes along, the parents get all ancestral. After largely ignoring much of their heritage, now that a shortie comes along, they feel the obligation to find some long lost, bizarre name. To pay homage to the heritage they never really bothered with. Aiden is a hot name right now. What do you call Aiden for short? Aids? Seriously, let’s think this out here. I know someone who named their first born Maeve. Maeve. WTF kind of name is that? It was explained to me that it is an old Irish name. Keep in mind the parents are both Italian. And I still don’t know if Maeve is a boy or a girl. Good luck finding that on a license plate at Disney World. It used to be all the bizarre names belonged to hockey players. Now, all the major sports are littered with names I’ve never heard of.

                Other hot names just seem kinda made up to me. Caden? Jayden is one of those names that’s a combination of 2 names. Similar to Jaron and Jared.  It’s funny how parents can be oblivious. Hot girl names from 2008 include Hailey, Chloe, Madison, Peyton and Morgan. Right, all stripper names. Just sayin’.

                Lastly, why, o why do parents give their kids a repetitive name? I think we all know a Bill Williams or Tom Thomas. All I’m saying is THINK. If you feel the need to try and look all cutesy, then consider what I did. I got a dog. You can name dogs all kinds of cool things like Bruiser or Diesel. If you have to get all trendy, then scar a dog, cat or gecko with a bizarre name. Just not your kids.

When I became a teenager I began to realize that grownups were seriously messed up in the head. I’m not trying to grab attention – not going for the controversial, sensationalistic, attention-getting angle. It’s a fact. There are a lot of seriously fucked up, out-of-touch grownups. I’m a grownup now, and I still think the same thing. And I want to know what the hell is the matter with them. I really, really do because I meet so many kids (teenagers) – friends of my own teenagers, and it breaks my heart because they are in a lot of unnecessary pain. And I suspect that it’s their parents’ fault.

Is that offensive, childish, naïve for me to place that blame? Maybe it is. But that’s my stance. I’ve been a fucked up kid as well as a fucked up grown up. I’ve dragged my ass out of the mud, so to speak, and I did it because I had to. One day I woke up and realized that if I didn’t change things, no one else would. Whether or not I knew what I was doing when I got pregnant, I was the one who brought those babies into this world. They are my responsibility. If things are fucked up between us; it’s my fault: I need to change.

It’s always the parents fault. Period. You start with a baby. A clean slate. And by the time they’re a teenager, you suddenly can’t relate to them? Why the fuck not? Because you woke up one day and suddenly realized that you don’t know them? You’ve had their whole childhood to prepare them, and yourselves for the so-called nightmare of teenagerhood , and suddenly there’s a wall between you and you can’t penetrate it?

You ask, “What happened to my sweet little Mary…or Bobby? They used to be such a good little kid.”

I ask, “What happened to you?” When did you lose your memory of the hell of growing up? The confusion? The pain? Did you just walk through a door, enter adulthood, and forget?” I have one of the worst memories of anyone I know and I simply can’t believe that’s possible.

What door did you fail to open…or keep open, while your sweet little babies were growing up? When exactly did you realize that maybe it was time a long time ago to start paving the way for weird, uncomfortable conversations like sex and drugs? And how exactly did you expect those conversations to go?

“Gee mom and dad, I don’t really want to make you feel uncomfortable, so I’m going to forego sex and drugs until I’m off at college…then I can experiment and make mistakes on my own, where I won’t have to disturb your perfect world with my hell and confusion.”

Is that what you were hoping for, mom and dad?

How many kids don’t survive their teenage years because their parents have their heads up their asses? How many kids suffer undue alienation, fear, confusion, depression, anger, and just plain Hell because their parents will chose any “out” they can find, over a heart-to-heart talk with their kids about what’s really going on in their worlds: what their fears are, what they’re dealing with in school, at home (yes, they’re dealing with shit right under your own roof that you don’t know about, or refuse to see. It might even be you). What they’re feeling – about life, their future, their present…in general. What they know, don’t know, or want to know about sex and drugs and anything else that may or may not exist. What they need to know about you, your own mistakes.

I made it through those years, in spite of all the fucked up, clueless grownups that kept trying to design my world by force, rather than simply listening, or being there to guide me back to the page when my design went a little off the mark, or doing their best to support me when I chose to stay off the page altogether. Fact: There’s going to come a point when you can’t force a kid to do anything. They’re going to do what they want. They might tell you what you want to hear; but you can rest assured they are doing precisely whatever the hell they want once they’re out that front door (or back door, or window). The best thing you can do is build up enough trust before that point comes, so that they come to you when things get really bad.

Maybe things won’t ever get really bad. But maybe they will. You have to consider that. With the kind of shit that’s out there now, I personally am not taking any chances. I want my kids to trust me enough to call me when they fuck up, or when they hurt. Not some psycho asshole from hell.

If they’re doing stuff that could harm them, they need to trust me enough to talk about it so they can hopefully make choices that will open doors to happiness and health. If they trust me enough to talk to me before they “try something new” then I am a successful parent. We can talk about it – what it is, where it could lead. That doesn’t mean I’m going to be able to convince them not to try it if it’s harmful or dangerous, but just the fact that they engage me in this process is evidence that they are thinking about things, and willing to open up about stuff – whether it’s scary, bad, unacceptable, or illegal stuff. Sex, drugs, whatever. I want them to trust me. That trust could save their life. It could make their teenage years a little less hellacious. It could create a lot of happiness now, and be the foundation of a lot more happiness in the future for all of us.

But they’ll never trust me if I judge them. They won’t trust me if I act like the typical ignoramus grownup who is always “right”. No way in hell. And if they even think I’m going to try to convince them not to try shit, they won’t even bother talking. It’s all very tricky – the business of gaining trust and keeping it.

I don’t think it’s a kid’s job to prove to their parents that they are trustworthy. I think it’s the parent’s job to earn their kid’s trust. If they do this, their kids will open up to them when it really counts. Honesty will happen. Mutual trust will be the result. Kids need to believe their parents will be there for their pain, suffering, hell, fuck-ups and confusion. Whether you agree with me or not, the truth is, building trust is the only thing you actually can control, as a parent and you control it by how you talk to your kids. And more importantly, by how you listen. You control it, by controlling yourself.

There. That’s my rant. I want parents to get a fucking clue. If you grew up in a perfect world and just don’t know any better, then at least consider that what your kids are up against today is a whole hell of a lot different than anything you ever knew or had to deal with, and you just might have to broaden your mind to some unpleasant realities.

Put away your fear, put away your god damn expectations and just listen. Let your kid tell you about their world. Affirm what they say by reassuring them that you love them and accept them, and you are always going to be there for them no matter what they do, or how big of a mistake they get themselves into. If you don’t know the answer, tell them you don’t have a clue, but you’re willing to help them figure it out. Learn together. Tell them you respect them for the courage it takes for them to get through a day of school. When they make good choices, friggin’ celebrate. Let them know you’re proud of them. When they screw up, love them more. That’s when they really need it. And so do you.

If you made it through all this, thank you for reading!

 

SUBTITLE:  

The Analysis

or (more likely)

ANAL-ization of THE COMPLAINT

 

Complaining (in and of itself) is an Act.

 

However, the Discography of THE COMPLAINT itself is an Art.  Absolutely so.  It’s shrouded in Layers of pensive Thoughts, Behaviors and Attitudes that are as individualistic as The Person who airs them.  Even each ‘Airing’ (Rant or Rave) has a Degree of Severity (not Civility) in it.  Letting lose and letting go ‘of a COMPLAINT’ is a Method of De-Stressing much like an Alcoholic finds (temporary) Comfort (Northern or Southern in Locale) in a Keg of Beer, Glass of Wine, Shot of Bourbon or  Bottle of Champagne.

 

However, Whine-ing can be short-lived and THE COMPLAINER (for the most Part) is a Constant.  Said COMPLAINT remains unleashed. The Degree of Sentimentality may be lessened.  The Emotion may be temporarily gone, but as for its Physicality, a COMPLAINT is easily discernible and is like a Pimple:  It pops out and explodes when it wants to.  Bottling up a COMPLAINT can lead to dogmatic  Internal Problems that can be costly in the long run.

 

TRACING THE COMPLAINT:

The Core Group revolves around:

 

YOU:  Your COMPLAINTS, Grudges and Maddening Experiences can range from breaking a Nail to losing Millions in an ailing Financial Downturn.

 

FAMILY:  How Family Members annoy you can be summed up in a COMPLAINT (if not more). SO much for the ‘Extended Family’ that sociologists are touting.  If you are rated as a prolifically compulsive Writer, at times like these, the Merriam-Webster Synonym Dictionary (found at www.m-w.com) comes in handy and automatically eases THE COMPLAINT.  That is:  By finding an Outlet to spill your COMPLAINT may be therapeutic.  The Act of Reading itself (as in Reading others COMPLAINTS on this Website) acts cathartically.

 

FRIENDS:  You can choose your Friends and not your Family. INSERT:  And Experts wonder why so many People (including Adults) run away from Home. To continue:   Many Friendships break up (as Marriages do) because too many COMPLAINTS are lodged against that Person, Place, Things or Circumstances that becomes too unbearable.  After a certain Point, Intolerance sets in and it just does not pay (on and for any Grounds of Sanity whatsoever) to keep The Friendship alive.

 

AT WORK:  Bosses ignite an entirely new Level for THE COMPLAINER.  With a Degree of Power in place, no one really complains about what The Boss is doing.  Jeopardizing One’s Job (especially in this precarious Job Market) is definitely Taboo and not a wise thing-to-do.  This may be the leading Reason why World Economics is as degraded as it has become the last 3-4 years.  The Leader (in any Organization) is The Boss.  The Followers (in any Organization) are the Employees. A Class System again is put into place.  The above Subjects warrant Grounds for ‘COMPLAINTS.’  After a Month passes, an Assortment of COMPLAINTS begin to build.  Blowing The Whistle on The Boss is now an Industry of its own Accord that’s seen on every TV & Radio Channel, Website & Blog across The Planet. It’s a Travesty of Justice and Goodwill when COMPLAINING does not get to do what it does best, but is breached for the Advancement of a Cunning Few.  One Party always remains that is left in Despair with solidifying COMPLAINTS. 

 

Locating an Outlet that finally filters the Air (that acts as a Purification System) is a sure-fire Way to lay a COMPLAINT to rest, even just for The Present, as many COMPLAINTS have the Tendency to occur and resurface.

 

In a post-industrialized, techno-World that began at The Turn of The 1900s, Individuals began thinking (which is Step #1 to the complete Compilation and Registering of a COMPLAINT) along these 4-Lines:

 

Am I pretty or handsome enough?

Am I slim enough?

Am I smart enough?

Am I rich enough?

 

JUMPING INTO THAT TIME MACHINE:  Back in the Days of ‘Little House on the Prairies’ of Kansas in 1850, there weren’t too many Teen Magazines to thumb through; Colleges to attend or Diet Books to peruse.  The Amount of Time “getting down, dirty, nasty and spiteful about yourself was severely limited, as Survival (defined on Page 1187, Column One of the Merriam-Webster Collegiate Dictionary ©1999)  in a new Territory was topping the TO DO List. Nothing else was of that utmost importance. Looks, Body Image, Brains or Money were not in their Top Ten List.   No petty and insignificant Acts/Actions that many (if not most) COMPLAINTS are structured around Today were posted on the TO DO List of 1850.  Their Value and Material System was plainly based on a different Set of Criteria than ours is. 

 

The Degree or Richness of a COMPLAINT is also interesting. After all, how good can a COMPLAINT be if there isn’t anything to judge it (up) against?  Would a COMPLAINT even be an Actuality if there was nothing to compare it to?  Time and Personalities are the Two (2) Factors that color a COMPLAINT and give it its Pizzazz - all the more, adding to its Dimensionality.

 

Is there not a slight Difference between COMPLAINING that the last Chocolate cream-filled Cupcake was eaten compared to a Ponzi Scheme that left a Family barren, broke, homeless and forlorn?  What’s considered serious to One Person may not be to another.  A serious COMPLAINT to one Person could be the Brunt of a Joke to another.  Besides Belief Systems, add in different Cultures, Borders and Political Parties and then, the Gamut of what is COMPLAINARY paints an entire different Picture. 

 

This Verbiage also brings up a few Questions and Facts:

 

How long does or will a COMPLAINT last?

 

How stressful can a COMPLAINT be before it garners Anxiety, a Heart Attack or Stroke?

 

And, of course, the Universal Differential that’s portrayed as COMPLAINT Severity, i.e.: 

 

Does Money buy a COMPLAINT-Free World?

 

As an Example:  Do those Individuals in Darfur (who are starving that managed to get through the Carnal Slaughter, Rape and Genocide), have time to complain.  If so, do their COMPLAINTS ever end? Whom do they complain to?   How long can they exist with this Clamor in their Lives?  Tracing a similar Plight, in the 1960s, Children in Biafra were starving.  Did their Pleas go up against Deaf Ears?  If not, then why is there such overt never-ending Poverty, Despair & Pain  in The World (now some 50 years later) if there’s Plenty of People (dealing in Goods & Services) and Organizations to complain to, whose Goal is to react in Kindness and Generosity?  How are COMPLAINTS registered at Customer Service Departments and what Percentage of COMPLAINTS are alleviated yearly? 

 

Can a COMPLAINT be heard and eased by a Greater Power than Mortal Man?  In other words, for those whose lives are based upon (a) Religion:

WWGCA:  What Would God Complain About? 

 

In other words, insulated in our own Home Units (whether it’s a Villa in the South of France, a Farm in Georgia, a Trailer Court in Kentucky; a Time-Share in Cancun or a Co-op Penthouse in New York City, COMPLAINTS permeate ‘The Scene’ and lodge themselves in The Psyche of Man so that Discussions (as these) can be aired on Websites as Richard’s.

 

A BEFITTING RITE: 

Many Global Religions and 12-Step Programs hold a Ritual each December 31 to cleanse themselves of THE COMPLAINTS they previously experienced as Arrogances and Troubles that followed them through the ‘Last Year.’  The Process is to list those Grievances on a Page of Paper and then toss them into a Vat burn or burn them up in a Fire(place).  Therefore, they are symbolically removed forever and  no one is haunted by them any longer.

 

AND THEY ARE CALLED ‘BIRD-BRAINS!’

No Research (to the best of my Knowledge) was ever done to see if a(ny of these) COMPLAINTS ever return, like the Swallows to Capistrano that arrive like clockwork on March 19 (after leaving Goya, Argentina (beyond the Andes) on the 18^TH of February, flying some 7500 Miles in 30 Days, at an Altitude of above 2,000 feet). Do those Swallows complain as they are ardently keep flying away from vicious Predators, Airbuses, Jet Aircraft and Miles of Smoggy Pollution on their Way to their Destination?   That, at most, is an ingrained Tendency.  COMPLAINTS are learned or acquired although some surface due to personal Traits or unforeseen Dramas.   Removing them appears to be more of a Psychological Cleansing.  And, if it alleviates The Problem – THE COMPLAINT or The Issue (at hand) then rest assured before long, another COMPLAINT will arise.   However, the Person is then free till the next COMPLAINT arises and can get something important done instead of ‘stewing’ in his or her COMPLAINT.  Seen another Way:  The Dynamics of the COMPLAINT has done its Job and served an important Purpose in The Daily Life of 21^ST Century Man. 

 

One Thing is for certain.  The COMPLAINTS a Person has at age 10 are totally different than those of a 30, 50 or 70 year old.  The Structure of a COMPLAINT grows more complicated as an Adult straddles through his/her Decades and with what(ever) he/she embodies, faces and knows.

 

Simultaneously, Location & Financial Standing (or Means) also play significant Roles in ‘The Everyday COMPLAINT.”  Historically and prehistorically, it was (only) Cave Man who had just one COMPLAINT. Their COMPLAINT was surviving The Day and making it through The Night without being eaten by large, man-eating Carnivores.  What was a COMPLAINT to Neanderthal definitely was not a COMPLAINT to Contemporary Man.  For the most Part, no large woolly Mammoths frightfully stampede  or lurk through the Cities or Forests of our Planet today.  Occasionally, We will see a Grizzly Bear or Deer check-out a backyard garbage can for a morsel or two if their Food Allowance has been jeopardized.  The Viewing of one’s Conditions is directly linked to THE COMPLAINTS We have, hold and pass along to Others.   

 

TOO MUCH TALK – NOT ENOUGH ACTION: 

How the COMPLAINT evolved:

Early Man did not complain about who won or lost the SuperBowl; if Bus Fares are escalating or if his mother-in-law is interfering (again).  It may not have been ‘that much of a COMPLAINT, as a perceived important life-or-death Goal to reach.  In other Words:  On the ‘Reichter Scale of COMPLAINTS,’ there are complaints and then, there are COMPLAINTS.  COMPLAINTS may appear ‘in disguise’ for you to CHANGE - a Change may do you good.

 

“If COMPLAINTS are perceived or interpreted as a Disguise that seeks for you to change or implants the Notion that ‘Change is in the Air,’ then that Message may hold positive good for The Recipient.   Unfortunately, for Contemporary Man, there are too many Choices than can lead him/her astray and into the cobblestoned Dilemmas of Living a Life filled with COMPLAINTS.  Knowing others are suffering with them, too, secures the Fact that DNA & COMPLAINTS are forever binding and are woven as a colorful Part of our Lives that we’ve grown to (for no other word) than to COMPLAIN about…” 

 

QUOTE OF:  ASK: ADRIENNE SIOUX KOOPERSMITH

Sunday, January 11, 2009 – 6:37 AM CST through

Friday, January 16, 2009 – 11:08 AM CST

askoopersmith(at)hotmail(dot)com

“We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights, that among these are life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.”

These words are some of the most well known words in American history.  They open that document that is held in regard by some as superior to even the bible, The Declaration of Independance.  Written over 232 years ago, this document, in no uncertain terms, states that “all me are created equal” and that their Creator grants them the right to pursue their happiness.  Now, ironically, it is the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints that has taken active steps to prevent some of those supposedly equal men from doing what makes them happy.  Marrying the person they love. 

What does the seperation of church and state, something else that is supposedly held as sacred in our country, mean if a church can throw massive amounts of money into a political issue?  Marriage is a state issue and church issue, yes.  But why is a church trying to tell the state what is right and wrong?  Moreover, why are we still seeing the rights of minority being supressed?  Haven’t we grown past this?  In the same election where we welcome into office our first non-white president, we strip another group of a basic human right.  We take one step forward, and two steps back.

Some say that allowing same sex marriage is a slippery slope.  But how slippery can it be?  Is it really going to lead to a man wanting to marry his dog?  It seems to me that that is just a desperate attempt at an excuse.  There was a time in our nation’s history when it was illegal for a white to marry a black.  We see this and realize that the Jim Crow Laws were wrong.  The world didn’t unravel because we eliminated those laws did it?  Seems to me that we are still here.  So why will the world go to hell if we allow two men who love each other to marry?  Seems to me that it can’t be any worse than what we have going on with our heterosexual marriages.  Is it up to 60% failure now?  Last time I checked, that was not a good thing.  So if a man and a woman who do not truly love each other, or who in all likelihood will not be together for the rest of their lives even thought they vowed to be can get married, why not give two men a shot?  It can’t really get any worse can it?

Do we really want our children or grandchildren to look back at us as the backward generation that couldn’t recognize that we are all the same?  The way we look at the absurdity of the Jim Crow Laws?

Okay. Where do I start? Let me first say that I love my husband, and most of the time, he’s caring, kind, and sweet. But today was the utmost mean thing he has done, in the entire existence of our eight year marriage, that teetered on the brink of pure scummy husbandly selfishness.

I’m home from a sweet trip down Holiday Lane with my four-year-old son. It was wonderful. Humongous candy cane and snowflake lights decorated the street lamps, the Union Square tree lit up my son’s face as the most prized mental picture of the years to come, and we were able to score free hot chocolate from the Ghirardelli square store (and I loooove chocolate.)

But, my husband has been the bearer of kill joy today. Instead of surprising and meeting him after work, he was off early and already home by the time my son and I arrived downtown. After refusing to meet us and telling me he would be home the rest of the day because he was tired, he decided to go out with his bestfriend and “forgot” his cellphone.

My son and I were stranded in the freezing cold darkness (okay, I’m exaggerating a little) of the Bart Station. Add to that, we had a “wonderful performance” presented by the  woman screaming “You punk a** bi***, you ain’t never gonna see yo son again!”  all across the bart station as I was scrambling all the numbers I needed to call him at. I finally caught him on his bestfriend’s number to tell him that he forgot to pick me up, then he replies “What did you want me to do, wait around for you all night?” 

I hung up on him, called HIS mom, and she picked me up without hesitation.

Tonight, I want to lock and leave a note on the bedroom door:

Rely on the couch to sleep on tonight, like I rely on your mom to pick me up from the bart station.

Of course, I’m not that cold or callous to leave a silly nasty note And I’m not about to let his need to “hang out with the boys” damper the rest of my night. I’m still pissed, angry, and the phones are still shut off - but I’ll just let my temper simmer for the holidays since, regardless of the Grinch’s attempt, I’m still in the mood for this night and the holiday season to be peaceful. And on the bright side (because of this) maybe, just maybe, he’ll feel guilty enough to buy me a better present than the mechanical/computer upgrades that he’s been buying me for the last few years (last year: extra GB stick, the year before that: an Ipod.)

Wishful thinking on my behalf, I suppose. Catching my husband anywhere near a Macy’s Womens department is like waiting for reindeers to fly.

Happy Holidays to all.