Don't Get Me Started with Linda Sharp

Honoring Terri

In what I surmise will be the last Breaking News report on the Terri Schiavo case, it was reported this morning that she passed away just past 9am est.  It was a death that took almost two weeks to come by, accompanied by a media frenzy that took on a life of its own.

Now that the clock has stopped ticking on Terri's life, we'll see just how quickly the story dies too.  I'm betting an eggtimer would suffice.

Sure, we will get updates on the brief fight that now ensues over the poor woman's remains - who get's what, where and in what form - and we'll hear TV experts dissect her autopsy report for the masses.  But before we know it, Terri Schiavo will have joined the ranks of Karen Ann Quinlan - people who have died amidst controversy, but that no one can quite put their fingers on.

There will be fallout for sure.  Already, living wills have been downloaded at warp speed and added to people's personal files - a reference manual, of sorts, for our future, that we hope never need be read.   That, perhaps, will be the good that comes out of Terri's life.  We are now aware of just how ugly things can get if relatives don't agree on your level of doneness.  He said she did not want to live this way, they said she did.  He said, she said, they said...what did Terri say?  Who knows? Better be safe and write it down.

What we will also see, littering our television sets this weekend, is an endless stream of politicians who can now say, "I tried.  I voted to save her."  And mark my words, we will absolutely hear Terri's name invoked when it's time for re-election.  Knowing full well that they did not have any more of a legal leg to stand on than the Schindler's themselves, they held those self righteous, self-serving votes.  Sorry people, but there is no philanthropy in politics - there is always an angle and a plan to spin things to one's advantage.

If the politicians really want to enact some form of change - how about this?  In a case like Terri's, when a person is diagnosed as compromised to such a degree that recovery is not an option, when the feeding tube is removed, allow it to be quickly followed by a lethal injection.  If the net result is to be death, then for the sake of all involved, don't make it drag out two to three weeks until the body literally starves to death.  We euthanize animals daily - dogs, cats, elephants who are in pain, seriously injured, unrecoverable - because it is HUMANE.  Why can we not extend that HUMANITY to ourselves?  Again, if the net objective is death, why should it matter if it is hastened and humane?  We should not all feel that a roadtrip to Oregon is our only legal option for a dignified, medically assisted death.

As a mother, my heart goes out to the Schindler's who have been tireless in their campaign.  Yet so much of it was on their own behalf.  As much as I would never want to let go of one of my children either, I understand they were waging a war against the inevitable - playing a Survivor style game to outwit, outplay, and outlast death.  Unfortunately, they could not come to terms with the rules of the game.

Rules that very clearly state the husband is the legal guardian.  That, in the end, is what every courtroom foray came down to.  Reduced to its very bitter dregs, they may have raised her, but Michael Schiavo was her husband. 

What parent could possibly want to swallow that?

As for the supporters around the hospice and around the world, who clung to their Bibles and fervently prayed?  Perhaps they should have opened those Bibles and reminded themselves that the Good Book spells it all out as well.  "And a man shall leave his mother and cleave to his wife.  And the two shall become one flesh."  In many other verses, the Bible states that the union of man and wife trumps the parental relationship.

To pick and choose which portions of the Bible you choose to acknowlege, to me, is hypocrisy at its worst.

And to those who cry removing her food tube was "playing God"?  By that logic, so was inserting it to begin with.  And wouldn't the same apply to any ventilator, heart machine, vaccination or even cough medicine? Any intervention interfering with some "divine plan"?  By that definition, we "play God" every single day.

Personally, I choose to look to this anonymous quote, as I also now choose to look away from what should be respected as a very private time of mourning for Terri's family...

"To the unbeliever, death is the end; to the believer, the beginning."

My hope is that the family of Terri Schiavo can look at Terri's death as the beginning of a new journey, not just for Terri, but for themselves as well.  Life is for living and they now need to embrace their own.

I believe THAT, if nothing else, is what Terri would have truly wanted.

AI Results Show-Jessica Thrown Under The Bus

I suppose it should come have come as no shock that Jessica bought the farm last evening during the results show.  But still, her departure cannot help but be tinged with regret and a feeling of "WHY THE HELL IS SCOTT SAVOL STILL SITTING ON THE COUCH?!?!?!"

The show opened last night with its typical ominous "America. What did you do?" feel by Ryan, who in a major bow to the seriousness of the announcement actually wore a suit and collared shirt.  (Another sign of the impending Apocalypse...)

After being treated to a foreshadowing of the results in a video recap, the kids took the stage to perform the final song choice for a soon-to-be-released charity single.  Yes, the American Red Cross stands to benefit from what a pathetically stupid bunch of cows we are as we all rush the Walmarts and Walgreens of this great land and lay our money down for "charity".

This week's offering was "Everything Is Beautiful" and NO. IT. WAS.NOT.  Not even in its own way.  Let's hope America, lemmings that we are, head to the Idol site and vote for last week's acceptable rendition of "He Ain't Heavy, No Wait, Yes He Is, He's Our Brother Scott" - sorry, "He Ain't Heavy, He's My Brother", the lyrics of which have something remotely resembling why people give to charity to begin with.

After the commercial break we are treated to ... another commercial.  Yes, the Ford sponsored spot that serves to remind us that maybe Mario DID have a personal reason for leaving - He was not quite ready to shake hands with Satan and sell his soul to the Devil.  Last night's commericial for Ford's Focus had the kids dressed as enormous dancing, rapping Muppets - insuring that from this day forward, every child will surely scream in terror whenever Mom turns on Sesame Street.

Jim Henson is still rolling in his grave this morning.

But, onto the drama, and we know it's a dramatic moment because the lights are down and the music has a distinctly "Who Wants To Be A Millionaire" feel.  Dun, Dun, Dun, DUNNNNN - wait, maybe it's more like JAWS?  Whatever, someone is going to be fed to the sharks - this week's voter chum being Queen Nefertiti - I mean Nadia, Jessica, who on result nights always looks like she picked up whatever clothes were on the floor when she woke up, and WHOA - Anwar?!?  Yes, you could see the dread as clearly in his eyes as on his head.

Nadia is quickly sent back to Egypt and safety.  And after the commercial, Ryan quickly kicks Jessica to the curb, shows her memory clip and then thrusts a microphone in her hand.

I think if I am impressed by nothing else on this show, it is the ability of these kids, newly devastated, certainly overcome with that ringing-in-the-ears-whole-body-numb-a-cop-is-pulling-me-over-and-I-have-unpaid-parking-tickets sensation, to immediately sing for the millions who just signed their Fame death certificate.

Personally, I would be a sobbing, snot laden pile of goo, with the only sign of life being my upraised middle finger...

Linda Sharp, OUT!

If The Coffin Fits, This Must Be It

Famed OJ Simpson defense lawyer Johnnie Cochran has passed away.  There are many people saddened by the loss: his family of course, countless celebrities who now sweat at the thought of getting busted and having no one to turn to, and the Schindler's of Florida.

Come on - you have to admit, that once Jesse Jackson has soiled the doorstep of the hospice, the legal moonwalking of Cochran couldn't have been far behind.

If the feeding tube fits, you must reinsert it!

In all seriousness, and Johnnie was nothing if not serious (gag, hock, spew), anyone's untimely passing is tragic - think oh, I don't know, Nicole Simpson, Ron Goldman...

Mr. Cochran had apparently been suffering from a neurological disorder (insert your own smart ass comment here) and had been receiving hospice treatment of his own when he died in his home yesterday.

I've surfed around and aside from his church pastor and immediate family, the people to come forward thus far singing his praises include, OJ himself, who offered this quote from the Florida golf course where he is imprisoned for life, "Johnnie is what's good about the law."

Yeah, that and cable TV for death row inmates.  Goood.

Then there is Michael Jackson, for whom Johnnie finagled the infamous civil settlement of $20 some million dollars back in 1993 when Michael was accused of child molestation, the first time.  "Johnnie Cochran was a true gentleman who embodied class, brilliance, honesty and integrity," said Jackson, who would go on, and with class, brilliance, honesty and integrity, end up back in court on the same charges.

His list of celebrity clients was a long one - fine, upstanding, wrongly accused men, all: P. Diddy, Tupac Shakur, Snoop Dog and even Todd Bridges of Different Strokes fame.

Yes, today we remember a man who did as much for the legal system as he did for leather gloves and ski hats.  Rest in peace Johnnie.

(As opposed to Ron & Nicole who rest in pieces.)

American Idol Recap - I Love The 90s

With all the pomp, circumstance, flashy lights and dramatic music, not to mention a flaming-red-graffitied-t-shirt-under-blazer, Ryan kicked off a true celebration last night: The first show without the FAAAABULOUS Mikalah Gordon.  Couldn't you feel the excitement in the air?  I actually had tears in my eyes...

Then we learned the theme du jour and my tears really began to flow.

Songs from the 90's?!?  My spirits sagged lower than Kurt Cobain's pants in "Smells Like Teen Spirit".

If there is a decade with which I am totally unconnected musically, it has to be the 90s.  Yes, I lived through those years, but like an LSD junkie in the 60s, my memories are pretty hazy.  Robbed as they were by a seemingly endless cycle of pregnancy, babies, nursing and playgroups.  If I was to connect with this show, I could only hope Bo Bice came out singing The Wheels On The Bus or that Vonzelle offered up a  gospel version of the Barney classic "I Love You, You Love Me."

But on to the contestants:

Bo Bice stampeded the stage like a true cowboy...a true cowboy in a Miami Beach drag club, that is.  Which is good since the outfit distracted me from his warbling a Black Crows song I have never heard of.  In all fairness, I have barely heard of the Black Crows either - I get them confused with The Counting Crows, Crow's Feet, Crobars, etc.  The hat was a Holstein work of art, I must say, and while it looked tragically out of place on Bo's pate, the dead cow looked perfectly at home on Paula's.  Simon compared Bo's performance to a Wedding Singer - Adam Sandler's slander lawsuit is now pending.

Now before poor Jessica-I-Still-Can't-Find-Clothes-To-Fit Sierra performed, Simon and Ryan indulged us all in a bit of their continuing lover's spat.  May I just say, on behalf of all viewers, "Guys, either get a room or kill one another. My kids have snappier verbal jabs fighting over a Twinkie." 

But I digress... Jessica gave a perfectly acceptable take on a LeAnn Rimes song, the problem is, it's one no one really knows.  Come on kids, we're simple folk out here in TV land. We like our steaks medium, our corn chips fried and our karaoke familiar.  I mean, give us a bag of Doritos and the Brady Bunch theme song and we'll follow you anywhere.  Jessica has a great voice and if she had chosen How Can I Live - a LeAnn classic - my Magic 8 ball might be predicting more than "Reply hazy, try Again".  Styling note to Jess:  No more flat ironed hair.  You need puffed up tresses to counterbalance the heft, 8 inches below your chin.

Anwar, Anwar, Anwar - where fore art thou Anwar?  What happened to the confident, controlled Rastaman who delivered Moon River and What A Wonderful World with such individual style and talent?  The past weeks, when you have been forced to move from a stationary mike stand, have revealed that perhaps you really are a one note wonder.  The one note at the end of all your songs is awesome, but...hell, who knows...maybe a CD called Glory Note would go platinum.  At the very least, it would make one helluva a ringtone on my cellphone.

By the way - it's official.  Paula needs voted off this island.  "Amen and God Bless You."? to Anwar?

Nadia was back in full fro force last night.  She looked amazing and I honestly believe the hair reached record heights.  Unfortunately she chose a Melissa Etheridge song that allowed her to reach record lows.  If you can't growl like Mel, stay away from her songs.  Nadia doesn't have enough meat on her bones to deliver the power of that song.  She'll make it through tonight based solely on hair redemption and killer outfit.

Constantine Maroulis was up next with an unlikely choice - Bonnie Raitt?  It's official, I honestly cannot look at the screen anymore when he sings.  The smarm pours off his chinny chin chin in waves and gives me goosebumps - NO - NOT IN A GOOD WAY.  The best thing I can say about his performance is that he looks interesting with purple spotlights in his hair.  Unfortunately, he will probably pick up at least half of Mikalah's tasteless fan pool and stick around a while - like gum on the bottom of a shoe.  By the way, is is just me or does his Dad look like a mortician?

Nikk-Oh-My-God-He-Isn't-Wearing-A-Hat Smith - I am so glad to have him back in this competition.  The boy is good, although without the hat trick, I had to fall back on his other quirk: He grabbed his crotch five times last night.  I believe that's a personal best - Go Nikko!

Paula note: "Another consecutive great week".  Huh?

Anthony Federov waxed rhapsodic about coming to America when he was a tadpole and then took the stage dressed as Kermit the Frog.  I can only surmise that losing his glasses accounts for his choosing that shirt.  He sang The Way You Look Tonight - but couldn't he see the way HE looked tonight?

Carrie-I-Wear-These-Sequined-Neckwraps-To-Cover-A Plethora-Of-Hickies Underwood was up next.  After making me feel ancient by recounting her first date in 1999 - she did a solid rendition of Independence Day, although I still wish she would emancipate her tongue from the confines of all that yellow scum.  Think pink Carrie, think pink.

Scott Savol just might have his One Last Cry tonight after his nails on chalkboard attempts to hit some high notes last night.  There were cats in my back alley singing back up for him...

Finally Vonzelle got her moment in the "last person to perform" sun.  Not only did she draw the prime slot, she got some killer hair extensions from wardrobe.  Taking on any Whitney Houston song is dangerous, but Vonzelle acquitted herself even better than Whitney in a Honolulu airport.  And with Ms Houston perpetually in rehab or court supporting her husband's most recent beating of her, the world is ready for a new high octave diva.

One last note: It is official - the Apocalypse is nigh.  Warring nations, Jerry Falwell in critical condition and now Stacked starring Pamela Anderson...it should begin raining frogs any day now.

Do You Get A Badge For This?

Well, the smell of hypocrisy is ripe in the air today, boys and girls.  And oddly, it smells alot like a manure farm I passed in Iowa. 

Yes, the shit is deep and wide today as the National Director of Programs for the Boy Scouts has been arrested and charged with knowingly receiving and distributing child pornography.

You read that right - THE BOY SCOUTS.

It seems Douglas S. Smith Jr. (boy, I bet Dad, Sr, is proud), a 39 year employee of the Boy Scouts of America, was dabbling in images of young naked boys engaged in various sexual acts.  Excuse me, Mr. Smith, but my brothers were in the Scouts and I don't ever recall that being a badge they could earn.

(Note: See that picture? It's true...There is just something about a man in a uniform.  In Dougie's case that "something" is the distinct sound of the banjo music from Deliverance...)

Of course, the powers-that-be at the Boys Scouts are "shocked and dismayed".  Yes, I suppose an organization which loudly refuses to allow gay scout leaders near their young charges would be a bit shocked and dismayed to find this out.  Hypocrisy being such a sweet morsel to swallow and digest.

The ironic beauty of this finding should serve as a lesson to everyone out there.  It does not matter what a person looks like, where he goes to church, how good  a neighbor he is, how active he is in the community, what color his skin, what income level is in his wallet.  Pieces of garbage come in all shapes, sizes, colors, genders, religions, languages and levels of society. Blanket assessments and prejudices like "Gay=BAD!" or "Priest=GOOD!" are dangerous, ignorant and wrong.

There has yet to be a serial killer caught who hasn't been described by his neighbors as, "He seemed like a nice guy.  Kind of quiet, always waved to everyone. I can't believe he did it!"

Same with guys like Mr. Smith - they don't go out of their way to stand out or get caught.  But thankfully, in this case, caught he is.

Hang up your sash and neckerchief Douglas.  After 39 years in the scouts, it's time to start paying your dues to society.

 

It Was Only A Matter Of Time I Guess

As the death watch for Terri Schiavo enters its 12th day, with her body slowly fading towards final peace, the controversy and campaigning to "save" her  continues forward.

Her parents and relatives - it seems anyone remotely related to her can score camera time - periodically step to the microphones to refute any and all statements from the other side.  Michael Schiavo's side says she is peaceful.  The Schindler's side say she is akin to a concentration camp occupant.  Schiavo's attorney say her skin is soft, they say it is dry and cracking.  His side states no hastening of the process has ever been spoke of.  Her family's side, of course, steps to the ever present mikes and loudly voices their fears she will be killed with an overdose of morphine.

And now, riding in on his self serving horse, eager to insert himself into a situation where outsiders never should have been to begin with, is opportunist extraordinaire, Reverend Jesse Jackson.

I honestly do not think that, in the history of the world, there has ever been a human being who has managed to insinuate himself into so many different causes, cases, situations, negotiations, trials and tribulations than Jesse. 

Hostage situation?  Illegal immigrant found afloat in the Pacific?  Anything remotely smelling of black vs white?  Monument unveiling or grand opening? Just call 1-800-Jesse.  Hell, he would come to the opening of a tuna can if he thought a shouldercam was standing by.

What can he possibly offer?  A new viewpoint?  We are all pointed out Reverend.  A legal manuever to reinsert her feeding tube?  Those cards have all been played too, Jesse.  How about support for the family?  OK, fine, I suppose one could argue that - BUT, how much support can a man offer who does not know the family, has been denied entrance to the hospice and will never actually see Terri in person?

In an interview with Wolf Blitzer on CNN, he called Terri's situation "one of the profound moral and ethical cases of our time." 

Uh, no Jesse, it really isn't.  It is not "our case", it is not "our time".  It is not "your responsibility" to get involved on any level.  This PERSONAL, PRIVATE decision is not ours to make or even to pass judgement on.  Terri was Michael's wife when the heart attack struck her down.  Terri is STILL Michael's wife.  All decisions about her life are his to make.  Society made these rules - why are we so unwilling to get the hell out of the way and follow them?

Again, this scenario plays out on a regular basis all across the world.  Terri is not the only human being to ever be removed from a feeding tube.

So where is Jesse Jackson when all these other tubes are being yanked?  Where is he when violations of human rights are occuring everyday on smaller scales?  Where is he when a Mom is desperately seeking a kidney for her rapidly declining child?  Why isn't he grandstanding for the couple in my town of Dallas whose son is on life support, but is losing his home care nurses because of the crime in their poor neighborhood?

I'll tell you - he is no where to be found.

Jesse Jackson emerges only when there are microphones and television cameras on a national scale.  PERIOD.

He will go silent for months, hibernating like a sleeping bear, only to emerge in full preaching, finger pointing mode and insert himself into the limelight of whatever is the cause of the day.

It is as shameful as it is predictable - he will disappear from the Schindler's lives faster than you can say Elian Gonzales, when Terri dies - Jesse is about Jesse and when CNN, ABC, NBC and CBS leave, so will he.  Like everyone else in this country who has their self righteous panties in a wad, he will quickly move onto the next scandal-tragedy.

Hey - I got overcharged for a dozen eggs this morning.  Think Jesse would mind taking on Walmart for me? 

1-800-Jesse...It's time for your close-up Reverend.

Cain Follows Abel In Child Abduction/Murder

I have recently used the tragic kidnapping, sexual assault and murder of 9 year old Florida girl,Jessica Lunsford, as an example of how the media chooses to focus our attention on only one person per category at a time.  Jessie for child abduction.  Terri for Right To Life.  Michael Jackson for weirdness beyond a reasonable doubt, etc.

I had previously brought up Jessica for two reasons - first and foremost, that her abduction was another heinous, horrible act carried out on a defenseless child by a cowardly, waste of flesh, sex offender.  The crime was horrific and as a mother, no punishment carried out will ever be big, bad or bloody enough.

The other reason I had mentioned Jessica though is that at the same time her case was making national headlines and being shown round the clock on CNN, another child - 10 year old Jetseta Gage of Cedar Rapids was abducted from her home and a registered sex offender was being sought as well.

But the media spotlight was focused solely on Jessica and her family's mourning until Jetseta's body was found.  THEN it merited a brief, 10 second mention in news broadcasts.

For those of you who are unfamiliar with her case - which would include the majority of people outside Cedar Rapids - allow me to fill you in.  The poor child deserves to have her name known and the rotting sack of shit that murdered her needs his in skywriting and neon lights.

Apparently, her Mom had dated a man named James Bentley some five odd years ago.  Normal enough - there are lots of dating, single Moms out there.  Somewhere along the course of their acquaintence, she is introduced to James' brother, Roger.  Again, normal meet-the-relatives stuff. 

Roughly one week ago, she enlisted Roger to replace the transmission in her minivan.  That evening, while she was out and the children were at home in the care of their grandmother, Roger abducts Jetseta, only to be found days later with her bloodied, abused, raped, dead body in an abandoned mobile home.

Now, here's where it gets really good - meaning horrifically BAD.  Roger is not only a registered sex offender, young James, who introduced him to Treena (Jetseta's Mom) has been in jail since last fall awaiting trial on a charge of second-degree sexual abuse. AGAINST JETSETA.

OK,  there are cases of bad things happening to good people, but then are cases like this where awful things happen to stupid people.  Treena being today's nominee for a Nobel Prize in Shameful Ignorance and Parental Neglect.

Still with me?

You date a person who in the end, sexually abuses your daughter, and then turn right around hang with his brother?  I don't think so.

Some people might call it throwing the baby out with the bath water, but if you touch my child, your entire gene pool becomes persona non grata and had better cut a wide swath around me.

This may sound really harsh, but in this day and age, Treena Gage should have known better, and while Jetseta truly did not deserve what she got, her mother got what she deserved.

Fool me once, shame on you.  Fool me twice, shame, shame, shame and unbearable emotional pain on me.

A warning to parents everywhere in memory of Jetseta Gage - gone much, much too soon.

It's A Dog's Life

The rings were set, spectators seated on all sides.  Ring officials stood at the ready, prepared to greet the competitors and ensure rules were abided by, as they entered to do battle.  The challengers warmed up in their respective spaces, pacing, jumping, stretching, even shaking out any last minute muscle kinks, some even warily circled one another, sniffing out any weakness.  The call was given and they emerged from their respective corners, creatures of pure animal instinct and rigorous daily training.  With a signal from the "ref", the fight for dominance was on and the fur began to fly...

Man, those Pomeranians are cute.

Sorry to disappoint those who had visions of me ringside for a taping of The Contender or an ear-chewing prize fight in Vegas.  No, what I describe is far more competitive, cut-throat and adrenalin pumping - I attended my first dog show this weekend - a two day, all breed, fur-a-rama. 

It was an education.  And it was, surprisingly, a heck of a lot of fun.

An education, because I learned there exists a whole other subculture of wack jobs in this world, and fun because I just love making fun of a good wack job.

OK, fine - not all of the owners were militant, tunnel visioned, anal, canine french kissers.  Some of them were fairly normal, tunnel visioned, canine french kissers.  As it turns out, there is a breed standard for owners too.

But I digress...

I was on hand for the event because my sister (of the latter wack job description), had driven in to compete with her female Keeshond.  A Keeshond, for the uneducated, can best be visualized by imagining a Pomeranian who has had an airtube stuck up it's ass and inflated to Macy's balloon proportions - it's a gorgeous, furry, amiable breed. (She actually owns two - but the male was not competing as he has already achieved Champion status - a feat for which he was amply rewarded by having his balls removed.)

We arrived on Day One, two hours ahead of her show time.  To look at the other dogs?  Enjoy the myriad booths?  Nooooooo, to groom that dog to within an inch of her life.  And we were not alone.  As this particular show numbered over 2,600 dogs, we entered into what was nothing short of football field sized "beauty parlor" for pooches.  Portable tables, extensions cords, blow dryers, brushes, combs and styling products shared space with, well, 2,600 dog crates and their owners.  It looked, and actually sounded, like an American Idol audition turn-out.  Lots of fold out chairs, duffel bags and howling.

Let me just say that if you have ever contemplated attending a dog show and have even the slightest of allergies - turn back.  When I say the fur is flying, I mean just that.  Strands, pieces, hunks, gobs, balls and knots float through the air and litter the floor.  A nasally challenged person would quickly be reduced to strands, pieces, hunks, gobs, balls and knots of congested snot.

The grooming process is actually fascinating - I have a dog - and I brush her regularly.  She looks good.  But to stand her next to a groomed show dog is to put an Amish woman next to Pamela Anderson.

It's not enough to brush them well.  There are breed standards for color, coat, legs, noses, eyes, toenails, etc.  My sister set up an arsenal that included mist, hair cream, chalk, two kinds of brushes, an insanely expensive metal comb, and a blower that I believe her husband made out of an old Concorde jet engine.

I watched as she and the hundreds who surrounded us at Furapalooza, rubbed, puffed, blew, moisturized and teased their dogs coats.  I saw gigantic breeds that could easily run in the Kentucky Derby patiently enduring hot oil treatments, Lhasa Apsos whose immaculate curtains of fur would soon double as arena floor mops and those tall poodles that resemble topiary trees - I get the shrubs around the feet and head, but what's with the twin bushes on the ass? And I then caught sight of what I was informed is a common form of enhancement (I call it cheating): An owner applying MAKE-UP to enhance her dogs eyes and another using a Sharpie marker to fill in a spot on his dog's nose.

It was then that the elephant flew through the room and I officially "done seen about everything".

As I assisted my sister with the canine coiffeuring, my family walked around eager to take in the plethora of pooches, large and small.  They returned with their tails between their legs after they had the audacity to stop, compliment an owner on her dog and - GASP!- LOOK AT THE DOG!  The bitch - I am using a completely unfoul term in the dog world - barked at them, "Don't look at her!  You'll intimidate the dog!"

Wack job, table for one, please.

With our dog resembling a furry porcupine, we set off to our assigned ring to wait for our "heat" - I love all these dog words.  In the waiting area, same breed dog owners rarely speak to one another.  Friends they are not - they are combatants. They are also too busy getting eyeball whiplash by trying to surrepitously look at the other dogs they are up against.  The lack of talking could also owe to the fact they all sport doggy bait - chicken, liver, steak - in their chaw like wads of tobacco.  Forget pockets, getting your dog's attention with spit marinated meat is de riguer.  It is also gross. 

In the ring, the dogs and owners run in circles and lines, pose, and get felt up by the judges - the dogs, not the owners.  After assessing gait, stacking (how they stand), overall build and bite, the winner with the poofiest fur is awarded a blue ribbon and the opportunity to compete again in several minutes against the other first place Don Kings in your breed.  But weep not for the second place finishers.  All bridesmaids get their moment in the sun too.  The also rans enter and compete for Reserve Winner - an inflated title for First Second Place!  This is more important that it sounds for if the winner cannot fulfill the doodies of his/her crown, the Reserve Winner will step in as Mr. or Miss America.

We did win First Second Place on day one, and being the competitive, Type A bitch (again, unfoul dog term) I am, I was bent on doing better the second day.  Being infamous for my ability to volumize three strands of hair into a flowing mane on a human head, I asked for permission to give it a try on my sister's dog.

After 30 minutes with Extreme Volume Mousse, Root Lifting gel and a normal blow dryer, that dog's fur stood straight out from it's body and she looked like she had gained 10 pounds overnight.  Entering the waiting area on day two, I reveled in the nervous glances of the dog owner who had beat us for first place yesterday.  I believe her dog even felt inferior, as it began to stare at the floor.

Call me Jose Eber, we won first place.

I don't know that I will actively seek out anymore dog shows in the near future, after all, I did have a vested interest in this one, and never intend to turn my own dog into a canine Jon Benet, but, I now have a better appreciation for my sister's efforts with her two dogs.

And a better understanding of just what a wack job I'm related to.

Best of Show, sis.  Collect your ribbon and bag of dog food at the center booth.

Save Terri's LIFE! KILL Her Husband!

Much like a vegetarian wearing leather shoes, are the hypocritical actions of North Carolina man, Richard Alan Meywe, arrested today for soliciting a "hit" on Michael Schiavo.  $250,000 for the person who could do the deed, and an additional $50,000 for snuffing out a judge who rejected an appeal in the case.

You gotta love Right To Lifers.

Kill all the abortion doctors!  We believe in the sanctity of life!  Do away with the death penalty!  Kill all the terrorists!  Murder Michael Schiavo! Terri has a right to live!

Listen, you can kill every abortion doctor you can get your hands on, but that won't wipe the law off the books.  Abortion is a LEGAL, personal choice - and I have yet to see the Right To Lifers offer to take in, pay for and support every woman who is seeking an abortion, and then adopt, raise and cherish the child that is born in the end.

For all the bleeding hearts who camp outside a prison when someone is walking the Green Mile, all the love, tears, forgiveness and jail time in the world won't rehabilitate everyone.  There are certain creatures in our society that simply do not deserve to drain the oxygen supply of the decent people. 

And killing Michael Schiavo will not stop a legal process already in motion.  Wacking all the judges won't stop the appeals from being rejected. 

Hypocrisy and ignorance walk hand in hand - one is never lonely for the other.  So if any of the people camped outside Terri's hospice want to prove me wrong, they had better be on the road to the next hospice and the next and the next - because this scenario plays out every single day.

If you're going to grandstand about Terri, you'd better be prepared to quit your job, buy an RV and see America, because the second Terri dies and you return to your normal life, you will prove my point and be no better than a PETA member at a Mcdonald's drive thru.

Food Tube For Thought

If Terri Schiavo's parents had never raised an objection to her being removed from her feeding tube - would any of us care about her case?

NO. WE. WOULD. NOT.

Feeding tubes are removed every single day in this country, with the same net result: the patient is "starved and dehydrated to death" <---Note I am quoting Terri's parents. 

Why isn't the government stepping into those cases to "err on the side of life"?  Because there is nothing political to gain - those cases have not been publicized, so no voters know or care about them.

And here's an interesting tidbit:  When he was Governor of Texas, good old George signed a law stating that in cases where indigents (the poor and uninsured) were languishing on life support, ie: ventilators, feeding tubes, etc, DOCTORS and HOSPITALS can unilaterally decide to unplug the patient EVEN OVER THE WISHES OF THE FAMILY WHO STILL HOLD OUT HOPE.

Does anyone else smell hypocrisy?

Again, we all need to stop playing Gladys Cravitz from Bewitched and get our noses out of other people's personal business.  Because I guarantee you, every one of these people protesting her food tube removal and applauding George and Congress for getting involved would raise holy Hell the SECOND government or anyone else dared to enter into THEIR personal lives.

Chew on that for a while.