Just don't forget to fasten your seatbelt elsewhere (other groups/forurms)

Away from Pets, sometimes the ride's bumpy. Road's full of potholes dug by trolls. The threads can on occasion resemble demolition derbies. But I'm sure you know how to navigate the rapids already. On a website dedicated to progressive support, there's a certain contingent that's anything but. You will also find as I have some of the more beautiful minds and souls around.

Anyway I like to think of Pets as the garden spot.

MUTT'S A LIAR !!!!!!!!!!!!!!

In revenge, not only did I tell every Republican I could find so they'd know exactly what their faux-christian hero really thought of them, but I also wrote 'MUTT' in big red letters on one of those rubber chickens and hung it upside down off my big campaign sign. My furkid Molly Maguire had always ignored that $20 toy before, but when she saw it hanging there she grabbed it and started running around the yard. It squawled like a stuck pig, which thrilled her.

So from then on when I brought her indoors, I'd hang the Chicken Mutt back on the sign. Even after she decapitated it.

Well, I thought it was funny!

I've denounced conservatism plenty

and believe they're pushing us toward a violent revolution which nobody will be able to control. Once that explodes, it's anybody's guess what will result. But we should remember the old saw, "Revolution always eats its children."

I figured that was the subject.

And I don't plan to watch it myself. But if it had the kids asking when's Mass tomorrow, it's to be appreciated for that if nothing more. Their enjoyment of church attendance should mature over time.

Maybe taking them to that movie was a good thing after all.

Excellent OP, thanks.

Bookmarked it and only now had time to review.

One interesting thing I've always found: many performers are mistaken for extroverts when they really are the opposite. How many times have you heard an actor say they find it easier to play another character onstage or on screen than to hold a personal conversation, especially with a stranger? My personality has a good dose of both, but I can tell you the first time I stepped on stage it was instant joy. Not because I craved approval, though applause is addictive. It was like finding my true home at last. Maybe I'm a closet control freak. It's incredibly satisfying to capture an audience and draw them along the way you want them to go. After it's over I don't want to be around anyone.

Although that should be written in the past tense. Where I retired for financial reasons only in RedNeckLand, there's so little in the way of avenues for artistic outlet that cliques jealously guard their own little bit of spotlight, even against others born and raised here, with family trees dating back a hundred years or more. When I went over one evening to listen in on bell choir practice in another room, to see whether they played well enough I'd even want to offer my services, the pastor rushed over and with a panicked look on his face warned me that those people had been playing together all their lives and might not want anyone else in the group. I told him very quietly that that's exactly what's wrong with this town. I've never seen a place so xenophobic and vicious even to their own.

The economy forced me into extra early retirement

So I wound up with very little $, but I'm far happier than in my working days for some of the same reasons as yourself. My time is my own. No one tells me what to do when (except for abiding by the law, of course) and so long as I can avoid jail, I don't have to put up with anyone I don't want to see. Blessed, blessed relief. Never been bored in my life and never will be. There's too much work. But I set my own schedule, and if I want to read at 2 A.M., that's exactly what I do.

I view it as just reward for sparing all those people in years past (and a few now) that I really would've loved to go after with an iron skillet.

Which reminds me of another blessing - I also cook and eat what I want and when I want. It's very hard to keep a straight face when people offer me sympathy for living alone. I also suspect part of the unspeakable ire a few others direct toward me has partly to do with jealousy, even though they might have a lot more in worldly goods. Which brings up another oddity; nobody else in town wanted this ancient house, at least not enough to buy it at the bargain basement price I paid. In another short while it would've been impossible to rehab at all.

But now that I have the entire outside looking halfway decent and the yard heavily landscaped, some people make it clear they don't think it's fair for me to have a big beautiful place to live in just for myself. Even though it's going to Catholic Workers for a rest home when I'm gone. They're also puzzled by how I live so well on so little, but I know they'd never for one second dream of sacrificing like I have to bring new life to the place, w/o incurring debt.

Hahahahaha - can you imagine how it galls the RW to see a damned (allegedly) godless Democrat outdo them? I always had blue striped shade cloth around the porch but had to replace it twice, so finally I gave it up. The 1" square white lattice I just had put up around the porch is there for a lot more than shade. I like to sit outside and listen to the world go by while keeping my own silence. And I can see everyone even though they can't see me.

Aha! That proves I'm up to no good!

George Carlin was a very wise man.

No, my dogs don't look at all like me and I've had plenty of them

Luckily, they were all better looking. I don't quite understand how it came about, but I've always had incredibly beautiful dogs, many of them rescues. I didn't necessarily pick all of them, either. A lot picked me - out of pity, maybe. They probably thought, we'd better go take care of that poor girl before the Ugly Patrol gets her.

I've enjoyed all the posts

And agree entirely. Don't need to repeat all the stories I've told before proving it from my own experience.

Here's a new one, though: last night at bedtime, I went outside to call the dogs in and Brigid appeared with one of her beloved big sticks clamped in her jaws. I just said, "Brigid, you know you can't bring sticks in the house." W/o a second's hesitation, she jumped off the porch, laid the stick down, and came dashing back. And she's not even a year old! By next winter she should be calm and mature enough to run loose in the house more; I have to restrict that now because she loves extension cords too much. But I look forward tremendously when we can all crowd into the recliner and watch tv together. She and Molly Maguire pay close attention to nature shows, and I've even heard them complain when I changed channels because their show was over. They don't care as much for Bill Moyers as I do.