Thursday, July 29, 2004
hypocrisy
Lest you, my dear reader, think that I am some sort of mindless Dubyabasher blindly devoted to voting for The Other Guy as long as he's not Dubya, let me reassure you. . . They are all a bunch of egotistical self-serving hypocritical bastards.
Kerry and Dubya should both go fuck themselves. I'm sure it would be the best sex either one of them as ever had.
"He arrived on stage to cheers and the musical strains of Bruce Springsteen's 'No Surrender.'"
WAIT! BREAKING NEWS! JAMES TAYLOR HAS JUST TAKEN THE STAGE AND IS SINGING "AMERICA THE BEAUTIFUL".
(James Taylor? Oh yeah, Kerry, the former vet hippie wannabe cuz he wanted to bang Jane Fonda (okay, I know it's fake, but it's funny, and c'mon, it was the 60's, everyone wanted to bang Barbarella. Hell, I would've.)
Damnit! Now I've been distracted from the purpose of the rant. Hmm. . . that's probably Their plan.
Oh yeah. . .
Ah fuck it. . . I can rant later. Summer school's over. The Boy is sound asleep. I've got a bottle of cheap vodka and the next week plus two days off. I've got The Wife. . . hmmm. . .
("mmmm. . . yeah, baby. . . please. . . . ah. . . ah. . . okay. . . okay. . . can I call you 'Barbarella' ? . . yes, oh yes!")
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Kerry and Dubya should both go fuck themselves. I'm sure it would be the best sex either one of them as ever had.
"He arrived on stage to cheers and the musical strains of Bruce Springsteen's 'No Surrender.'"
WAIT! BREAKING NEWS! JAMES TAYLOR HAS JUST TAKEN THE STAGE AND IS SINGING "AMERICA THE BEAUTIFUL".
(James Taylor? Oh yeah, Kerry, the former vet hippie wannabe cuz he wanted to bang Jane Fonda (okay, I know it's fake, but it's funny, and c'mon, it was the 60's, everyone wanted to bang Barbarella. Hell, I would've.)
Damnit! Now I've been distracted from the purpose of the rant. Hmm. . . that's probably Their plan.
Oh yeah. . .
Ah fuck it. . . I can rant later. Summer school's over. The Boy is sound asleep. I've got a bottle of cheap vodka and the next week plus two days off. I've got The Wife. . . hmmm. . .
("mmmm. . . yeah, baby. . . please. . . . ah. . . ah. . . okay. . . okay. . . can I call you 'Barbarella' ? . . yes, oh yes!")
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the perils of the good doctor noyz
| Sometimes people with autism have a difficult time expressing themselves. Actions do indeed speak louder than words. For example, last Friday, one of my students told me he wasn't ready to go to the bus at the end of the day by trying to eat my right arm. The photo was taken Saturday morning. |  nextdaybite Originally uploaded by dr-noyz. |
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osama loves peanuts and nougat
Or something like that. He must, otherwise how can you explain this:
Woman Arrested, Cuffed for Eating Candy.
The terrorists have already won.
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Woman Arrested, Cuffed for Eating Candy.
The terrorists have already won.
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Thursday, July 22, 2004
let it go
I've heard that many times recently from several different people.
The Wife, friends, co-workers. . .
I've tried. I'm trying.
I can't. I won't.
An image lurks in the back of my mind.
It burns lowly, slowly and steadily, nearly unextinguishable, like a West Texas junkyard tire fire on an August afternoon. The dark billowing smoke clouds penetrate and poison everything they enshroud.
It is the image of The Boy: pale, puny, bloodied, gray, lying limp and almost lifeless on the cold crisp white sterility of a hospital bed; connected to blinking, beeping, buzzing machines via eight different tubes and wires.
And the voice, like razors on my spine, laughing, "I thought for a minute he had a stroke. But then I realized and laughed, The Boy can't have a stroke, The Boy doesn't have a brain!'
_______________
This is not about vengeance. "'Vengeance is mine,' saith The Lord. . ." and I do not profess to be Him. Yeah. Okay.
Who am I kidding? To some extent it is. Ms. von Munchausen damn near killed The Boy. And contrary to her protestations of innocence, her actions were intentional. I can be forgiving, but I'm not willing to be foolish.
Ms. von Munchausen has not yet been held accountable for her behavior. The police, the courts, so far. . . still. . . nothing. That means there is nothing to prevent her from packing up her lair, moving somewhere else, and doing it all again.
As long as she remains on the sunny side of the prison wall she poses a menace, threat, and outright danger to children.
At the very least, I owe it to The Boy to make sure that it never happens again.
And what did we learn a scant four months ago?
"All for the love of The Boy"
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The Wife, friends, co-workers. . .
I've tried. I'm trying.
I can't. I won't.
An image lurks in the back of my mind.
It burns lowly, slowly and steadily, nearly unextinguishable, like a West Texas junkyard tire fire on an August afternoon. The dark billowing smoke clouds penetrate and poison everything they enshroud.
It is the image of The Boy: pale, puny, bloodied, gray, lying limp and almost lifeless on the cold crisp white sterility of a hospital bed; connected to blinking, beeping, buzzing machines via eight different tubes and wires.
And the voice, like razors on my spine, laughing, "I thought for a minute he had a stroke. But then I realized and laughed, The Boy can't have a stroke, The Boy doesn't have a brain!'
_______________
This is not about vengeance. "'Vengeance is mine,' saith The Lord. . ." and I do not profess to be Him. Yeah. Okay.
Who am I kidding? To some extent it is. Ms. von Munchausen damn near killed The Boy. And contrary to her protestations of innocence, her actions were intentional. I can be forgiving, but I'm not willing to be foolish.
Ms. von Munchausen has not yet been held accountable for her behavior. The police, the courts, so far. . . still. . . nothing. That means there is nothing to prevent her from packing up her lair, moving somewhere else, and doing it all again.
As long as she remains on the sunny side of the prison wall she poses a menace, threat, and outright danger to children.
At the very least, I owe it to The Boy to make sure that it never happens again.
And what did we learn a scant four months ago?
"All for the love of The Boy"
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question of the week
"I'm confused. . . You like Peter Gabriel, but you don't like The Eagles?"
- The Sweet and Surly Sister-in-Law, earlier this evening.
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- The Sweet and Surly Sister-in-Law, earlier this evening.
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Tuesday, July 20, 2004
from the lost irony department
From Reuters news service:
"After launching two wars, President Bush said on Tuesday he wanted to be a 'peace president' and took swipes at his Democratic rivals for being lawyers and weak on defense."
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"After launching two wars, President Bush said on Tuesday he wanted to be a 'peace president' and took swipes at his Democratic rivals for being lawyers and weak on defense."
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Saturday, July 17, 2004
"in the land of the blind. . .
. . . a one-eyed man will be king."
Who said that?
__________
"The U.S. government plans to introduce by late 2006 more rigorous testing in English language, U.S. history and civics for immigrants hoping to become citizens, the program director said on Tuesday."
How about testing the citizen's who were born here?
This may smack of intellectual elitism, but frankly, the Good Doctor Noyz doesn't give a fuck.
You wanna vote, you gotta pass the test.
Otherwise just plant your fat sorry ass on the couch with the remote and a bag full of BigMacs and shut the fuck up. Oh, I'm sorry, please forgive me. I see now that you are already doing that.
Half of you don't (or can't) vote anyway, so once again, just shut the fuck up and do what your told.
Whoops. I'm sorry, I see you are already doing that also.
The Romans had a phrase: "bread and circuses".
Bread? Most Americans are overweight.
Circuses? I've got about 300 channels on my television. And then there's the hype and the spectacle of this.
We live in a land where one in seven young people can find Iraq on a map.
I can't vouch for the accuracy of the source, but the Central Committee for Conscientious Objectors cites a Pentagon official as saying "the four major military branches hope to recruit 206,000 young adults this year and another 150,000 reserve and National Guard members" .
Okay, let's do some quick math. . . carry the two. . . okay. . .
46,280. Approximately 46,000 of the young people the Pentagon is hoping to enlist can't find where they'll fight dubya's war on a map.
Tell me, my dear reader. Are you surprised? Sadly, the Good Doctor Noyz is not.
In early 2000, the American Council of Trustees and Alumni, "a nonprofit educational organization committed to academic freedom, excellence, and accountability on college and university campuses, issued a report entitled Losing America's Memory: Historical Illiteracy in the 21st Century
Please allow me to quote from the introduction, it is rather lengthy, but I beseech thee to read on:
What do seniors at the nation’s best colleges and universities know and not know about the history of this nation? What grade would they receive if tested?
ACTA commissioned the Roper organization — The Center for Survey Research and Analysis at the University of Connecticut — to survey college seniors from the nation’s best colleges and universities as identified by the U.S. News & World Report’s annual college rankings. The top 55 liberal arts colleges and research universities were sampled during December 1999. . . The questions were drawn from a basic high school curriculum. . .
How did seniors from our nation’s top colleges and universities do? They flunked. Four out of five — 81% — of seniors from the top 55 colleges and universities in the United States received a grade of D or F. They could not identify Valley Forge, or words from the Gettysburg Address, or even the basic principles of the U.S. Constitution.
• Scarcely more than half knew general information about American democracy and the Constitution.
• Only 34% of the students surveyed could identify George Washington as an American general at the battle of Yorktown, the culminating battle of the American Revolution.
• Only 42% were able to identify George Washington as “First in war, first in peace, first in the hearts of his countrymen.”
• Less than one quarter (23%) correctly identified James Madison as the “father of the Constitution.”
• Even fewer — 22% of the college seniors — were able to identify “Government of the people, by the people, for the people” as a line from the Gettysburg Address — arguably one of the three most important documents underlying the American system of government.
• Over one-third were unable to identify the U.S. Constitution as establishing the division of power in American government.
• Little more than half (52%) knew George Washington’s Farewell Address warned against permanent alliances with foreign governments.
What do they know?
They get an A+ in contemporary popular culture.
• 99% know who the cartoon characters Beavis and Butthead are.
• 98% can identify the rap singer Snoop Doggy Dogg.
Beavis and Butthead instead of Washington and Madison; Snoop Doggy Dogg instead of Lincoln?
__________
I love Beavis and Butthead. I used to be Beavis and Butthead. And I gotsa shizzle for my fizzle while I sip my gin an' juice.
But did I miss a meeting? Did someone forget to "cc" me a memo? When did knowledge of pop culture and knowlege of culture seemingly become mutually exclusive categories?
Disgusting. Repulsive. Just plain sad.
Keep the masses entertained and ignorant, throw a little fear into the mix and they will gladly allow you to do whatever you want to rule them. And it helps if you repeat a lie often enough it for it to become true.
"They that can give up essential liberty to obtain a little temporary safety deserve neither safety nor liberty."
"A nation of well-informed men who have been taught to know and prize the rights which God has given them cannot be enslaved. It is in the religion of ignorance that tyranny begins." - Benjamin Franklin
Wait. Thoughtcrime.
Ignorance is Bliss.
Where's the remote? Ah, there it is. . . click. . . click. . . Good "I Love the 90s" is on. Those crazy 90's! What a long time ago. . . "Friends" was a really great show.
I feel better already.
I love Big Brother.
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Who said that?
__________
"The U.S. government plans to introduce by late 2006 more rigorous testing in English language, U.S. history and civics for immigrants hoping to become citizens, the program director said on Tuesday."
How about testing the citizen's who were born here?
This may smack of intellectual elitism, but frankly, the Good Doctor Noyz doesn't give a fuck.
You wanna vote, you gotta pass the test.
Otherwise just plant your fat sorry ass on the couch with the remote and a bag full of BigMacs and shut the fuck up. Oh, I'm sorry, please forgive me. I see now that you are already doing that.
Half of you don't (or can't) vote anyway, so once again, just shut the fuck up and do what your told.
Whoops. I'm sorry, I see you are already doing that also.
The Romans had a phrase: "bread and circuses".
Bread? Most Americans are overweight.
Circuses? I've got about 300 channels on my television. And then there's the hype and the spectacle of this.
We live in a land where one in seven young people can find Iraq on a map.
I can't vouch for the accuracy of the source, but the Central Committee for Conscientious Objectors cites a Pentagon official as saying "the four major military branches hope to recruit 206,000 young adults this year and another 150,000 reserve and National Guard members" .
Okay, let's do some quick math. . . carry the two. . . okay. . .
46,280. Approximately 46,000 of the young people the Pentagon is hoping to enlist can't find where they'll fight dubya's war on a map.
Tell me, my dear reader. Are you surprised? Sadly, the Good Doctor Noyz is not.
In early 2000, the American Council of Trustees and Alumni, "a nonprofit educational organization committed to academic freedom, excellence, and accountability on college and university campuses, issued a report entitled Losing America's Memory: Historical Illiteracy in the 21st Century
Please allow me to quote from the introduction, it is rather lengthy, but I beseech thee to read on:
What do seniors at the nation’s best colleges and universities know and not know about the history of this nation? What grade would they receive if tested?
ACTA commissioned the Roper organization — The Center for Survey Research and Analysis at the University of Connecticut — to survey college seniors from the nation’s best colleges and universities as identified by the U.S. News & World Report’s annual college rankings. The top 55 liberal arts colleges and research universities were sampled during December 1999. . . The questions were drawn from a basic high school curriculum. . .
How did seniors from our nation’s top colleges and universities do? They flunked. Four out of five — 81% — of seniors from the top 55 colleges and universities in the United States received a grade of D or F. They could not identify Valley Forge, or words from the Gettysburg Address, or even the basic principles of the U.S. Constitution.
• Scarcely more than half knew general information about American democracy and the Constitution.
• Only 34% of the students surveyed could identify George Washington as an American general at the battle of Yorktown, the culminating battle of the American Revolution.
• Only 42% were able to identify George Washington as “First in war, first in peace, first in the hearts of his countrymen.”
• Less than one quarter (23%) correctly identified James Madison as the “father of the Constitution.”
• Even fewer — 22% of the college seniors — were able to identify “Government of the people, by the people, for the people” as a line from the Gettysburg Address — arguably one of the three most important documents underlying the American system of government.
• Over one-third were unable to identify the U.S. Constitution as establishing the division of power in American government.
• Little more than half (52%) knew George Washington’s Farewell Address warned against permanent alliances with foreign governments.
What do they know?
They get an A+ in contemporary popular culture.
• 99% know who the cartoon characters Beavis and Butthead are.
• 98% can identify the rap singer Snoop Doggy Dogg.
Beavis and Butthead instead of Washington and Madison; Snoop Doggy Dogg instead of Lincoln?
__________
I love Beavis and Butthead. I used to be Beavis and Butthead. And I gotsa shizzle for my fizzle while I sip my gin an' juice.
But did I miss a meeting? Did someone forget to "cc" me a memo? When did knowledge of pop culture and knowlege of culture seemingly become mutually exclusive categories?
Disgusting. Repulsive. Just plain sad.
Keep the masses entertained and ignorant, throw a little fear into the mix and they will gladly allow you to do whatever you want to rule them. And it helps if you repeat a lie often enough it for it to become true.
"They that can give up essential liberty to obtain a little temporary safety deserve neither safety nor liberty."
"A nation of well-informed men who have been taught to know and prize the rights which God has given them cannot be enslaved. It is in the religion of ignorance that tyranny begins." - Benjamin Franklin
Wait. Thoughtcrime.
Ignorance is Bliss.
Where's the remote? Ah, there it is. . . click. . . click. . . Good "I Love the 90s" is on. Those crazy 90's! What a long time ago. . . "Friends" was a really great show.
I feel better already.
I love Big Brother.
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Wednesday, July 14, 2004
you can't stop rock-n-roll
My 9th grade American History, and (much to my surprise following a Google search) published author, Stanley Oberst had a theory. I'm sure he had lots of them, afterall, he is a high school history teacher.
But he had one theory that I remember over twenty years later. So, it must have been pretty darn good, right?
I googled "Stanley Oberst" and came up with several hundred hits. I find no shame in confessing that I neither read nor even bothered to look at more than the first few. So, I may be incorrect. Given that. . .
I here now proudly present Mr. Oberst's theory (and one of the few things from high school) that I remember after twentysome years:
Country music is twenty years behind Rock-n-Roll music.
Mr. Oberst, you are dead on correct, sir.
My dear readers, if you doubt me, sit down one night and instead of passing time with a book (sorry Fang, but it's 2004, books are so fifteenth century) or squandering your time reading somebody's semi-coherent ramblings, watch an hour or two (or four if you got the beer to keep you going) of GAC or CMT.
What? You don't have cable or satellite television? Um, excuse me, I think we've already covered this. What year is it again? Lame-ass! Go get it now or jump in your car and drive to bar that has it on. The crowd might be a little scary but I promise the beer will be cheap, and there will be a shot special or two.
What will you see?
Scantily clad women, lots of them, in damn near every video, dancing and gyrating while men in sleeveless t-shirts and ultra tight pants play electic guitars; "live" videos in big arena settings with mega spectacular light shows; William Shatner; motorcycles; people actually playing guitars, not a DJ in sight; scenes with a "once good girl now bad girl but gonna be a good girl again" set in a strip club; mullets; did I mention William Shatner. . .
Hell, a coupla times I've even seen a commercial for a Van Halen Greatest Hits CD. Heart is the featured artist this month on a show called "Crossroads". Crossroads? As in "went down to the. . ."?
What year is it again? Is it ninteen eighty-four? No dickweed! It's two thousand and fucking four!
Read the following lyrics from a song by Julie Roberts:
"I'd sure hate to break down here
Nothin up ahead or in the rearview mirror
Out in the middle of nowhere knowin
I'm in trouble if these wheels stop rollin
So God help me keep me movin somehow
Dont let me start wishin I was with him now
I made it this far without cryin a single tear
And I'd sure hate to break down here
Change the "him" to a "her" (or not). Can't you just close your eyes and see Joe Elliot or Brett Michaels singing the same song? In spandex pants?
And don't get me started on Shania Twain.
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But he had one theory that I remember over twenty years later. So, it must have been pretty darn good, right?
I googled "Stanley Oberst" and came up with several hundred hits. I find no shame in confessing that I neither read nor even bothered to look at more than the first few. So, I may be incorrect. Given that. . .
I here now proudly present Mr. Oberst's theory (and one of the few things from high school) that I remember after twentysome years:
Country music is twenty years behind Rock-n-Roll music.
Mr. Oberst, you are dead on correct, sir.
My dear readers, if you doubt me, sit down one night and instead of passing time with a book (sorry Fang, but it's 2004, books are so fifteenth century) or squandering your time reading somebody's semi-coherent ramblings, watch an hour or two (or four if you got the beer to keep you going) of GAC or CMT.
What? You don't have cable or satellite television? Um, excuse me, I think we've already covered this. What year is it again? Lame-ass! Go get it now or jump in your car and drive to bar that has it on. The crowd might be a little scary but I promise the beer will be cheap, and there will be a shot special or two.
What will you see?
Scantily clad women, lots of them, in damn near every video, dancing and gyrating while men in sleeveless t-shirts and ultra tight pants play electic guitars; "live" videos in big arena settings with mega spectacular light shows; William Shatner; motorcycles; people actually playing guitars, not a DJ in sight; scenes with a "once good girl now bad girl but gonna be a good girl again" set in a strip club; mullets; did I mention William Shatner. . .
Hell, a coupla times I've even seen a commercial for a Van Halen Greatest Hits CD. Heart is the featured artist this month on a show called "Crossroads". Crossroads? As in "went down to the. . ."?
What year is it again? Is it ninteen eighty-four? No dickweed! It's two thousand and fucking four!
Read the following lyrics from a song by Julie Roberts:
"I'd sure hate to break down here
Nothin up ahead or in the rearview mirror
Out in the middle of nowhere knowin
I'm in trouble if these wheels stop rollin
So God help me keep me movin somehow
Dont let me start wishin I was with him now
I made it this far without cryin a single tear
And I'd sure hate to break down here
Change the "him" to a "her" (or not). Can't you just close your eyes and see Joe Elliot or Brett Michaels singing the same song? In spandex pants?
And don't get me started on Shania Twain.
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Tuesday, July 13, 2004
for the boy
It is done. For now.
This afternoon I mailed two copies of a 12 PAGE document, along with 20+ PAGES of back-up documentation detailing much, but by no means all, of the abuse Ms. von Munchausen directed at The Boy during his thirty three month stay at her so-called Home for Children with Significant Medical Needs.
It was based almost entirely on information The Wife and I read in The Boy's case file we received from the State Child Protection Agency as part of the normal adoption process. Yes, my dear readers, you read that correctly, but I will repeat myself for the sake of clarity.
The document was based almost entirely on information The Wife and I read in The Boy's official case file.
Which means that it was all right out there in the open for anyone to see. The problem, of course, was in order to see, one first needs to look.
And it's not that just anyone could look. The only people who had access to the records were Ms. von Munchausen and the State Child Protection Agency.
I don't fault the State Child Protection Agency caseworkers. They have tremendous caseloads, largely thankless jobs, and are burdened with an amazingly stifling degree of government bureaucracy. They are social workers, not medical professionals. They were just as deceived by Ms. von Munchausen as the remainder of the community.
Which is not to say they are entirely without blame.
Someone should have taken the time to verify some of the information Ms. von Munchausen placed in The Boy's file. Someone should have taken the time to ask questions, such as "Why are you waking a six month old child twice in the middle of the night to give him sedatives?" But no one ever did, because assuming someone took the time to read the endless reports Ms. von Munchausen submitted, she used enough medical terminology to make it sound like she knew what she was writing about.
The Wife is studying to be a nurse. Who do you think helps her study? We've been reading and cross referencing The Boy's file.
With a little bit of knowledge about medical terminology, a little bit of logical thinking, and a little bit of common sense, Mr. von Munchausen's reports sound a whole lot like the Damons Wayans prisoner character on "In Living Color".
One copy went to the local District Attorney.
One copy went to the State Nursing Board.
So if all goes well, within the coming months Ms. von Munchausen will find herself sitting in a jail cell without a nursing license.
And if not, I've still got one copy for Stone Phillips.
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This afternoon I mailed two copies of a 12 PAGE document, along with 20+ PAGES of back-up documentation detailing much, but by no means all, of the abuse Ms. von Munchausen directed at The Boy during his thirty three month stay at her so-called Home for Children with Significant Medical Needs.
It was based almost entirely on information The Wife and I read in The Boy's case file we received from the State Child Protection Agency as part of the normal adoption process. Yes, my dear readers, you read that correctly, but I will repeat myself for the sake of clarity.
The document was based almost entirely on information The Wife and I read in The Boy's official case file.
Which means that it was all right out there in the open for anyone to see. The problem, of course, was in order to see, one first needs to look.
And it's not that just anyone could look. The only people who had access to the records were Ms. von Munchausen and the State Child Protection Agency.
I don't fault the State Child Protection Agency caseworkers. They have tremendous caseloads, largely thankless jobs, and are burdened with an amazingly stifling degree of government bureaucracy. They are social workers, not medical professionals. They were just as deceived by Ms. von Munchausen as the remainder of the community.
Which is not to say they are entirely without blame.
Someone should have taken the time to verify some of the information Ms. von Munchausen placed in The Boy's file. Someone should have taken the time to ask questions, such as "Why are you waking a six month old child twice in the middle of the night to give him sedatives?" But no one ever did, because assuming someone took the time to read the endless reports Ms. von Munchausen submitted, she used enough medical terminology to make it sound like she knew what she was writing about.
The Wife is studying to be a nurse. Who do you think helps her study? We've been reading and cross referencing The Boy's file.
With a little bit of knowledge about medical terminology, a little bit of logical thinking, and a little bit of common sense, Mr. von Munchausen's reports sound a whole lot like the Damons Wayans prisoner character on "In Living Color".
One copy went to the local District Attorney.
One copy went to the State Nursing Board.
So if all goes well, within the coming months Ms. von Munchausen will find herself sitting in a jail cell without a nursing license.
And if not, I've still got one copy for Stone Phillips.
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vagina values
Kerry, Edwards May Not Vote on Marriage
"Democrat John Kerry and his running mate John Edwards may not end up voting on a constitutional amendment to ban gay marriage, a polarizing issue in the presidential campaign."
Right. Because then they would be forced to take a stand on a smoke-screen social issue that is not the government's business anyway.
The pussies.
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"Democrat John Kerry and his running mate John Edwards may not end up voting on a constitutional amendment to ban gay marriage, a polarizing issue in the presidential campaign."
Right. Because then they would be forced to take a stand on a smoke-screen social issue that is not the government's business anyway.
The pussies.
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Friday, July 09, 2004
a kind of movie review
Earlier today The Wife and I went to see Fahrenheit 9/11.
Two words: kicks ass
As you well know, my dear readers, from my earlier rants, Michael Moore was basically preaching to the choir in the case of myself and The Wife. I think it fairly safe to say that holds true for the rest of the theater audience. When the lights came up at the end, we looked around and saw a theater about half full of old hippies. And a smattering of younger twentysomething neohippies.
I do love this town.
Everytime Dick Cheney appeared on the screen the old hippie seated behind me hollered out something like "Wow, I didn't know he was still alive!".
We just sat there, hand in hand, watching, listening, and learning as we slowly sipped our heavily laced with smuggled in vodka very overpriced Cokes.
And I must confess a criticism and complaint about the film. I realize this comes fresh on the heels of my recent Gothika review, but. . .
This was something of a surprise, so if you have not yet seen the film I apologize for ruining the surprise but rest assured I am not giving enough detail so as to be a spoiler.
Britney was in the movie and there was no bumping, grinding, or gyrating! Yes, that's right Britney was in the movie and we did not see her bejeweled belly button. That is a damn shame.
And John Conyers got way more screen time.
"There's what's right, and there's what's right, and never the twain shall meet." - H.I. McDonnough, Raising Arizona
At first I thought the 1984 comparison was perhaps a little overdramatic. But then I realized that short of actually calling the current regime Nazis, it is reference to a totalitarian state that I would hope a majority of people understand.
And then I came home and read this:
Americans Object to War Images Online
and this:
Pentagon: Bush Military Records Destroyed
I had a revelation.
Ignorance is bliss. I love Big Brother.
|
Two words: kicks ass
As you well know, my dear readers, from my earlier rants, Michael Moore was basically preaching to the choir in the case of myself and The Wife. I think it fairly safe to say that holds true for the rest of the theater audience. When the lights came up at the end, we looked around and saw a theater about half full of old hippies. And a smattering of younger twentysomething neohippies.
I do love this town.
Everytime Dick Cheney appeared on the screen the old hippie seated behind me hollered out something like "Wow, I didn't know he was still alive!".
We just sat there, hand in hand, watching, listening, and learning as we slowly sipped our heavily laced with smuggled in vodka very overpriced Cokes.
And I must confess a criticism and complaint about the film. I realize this comes fresh on the heels of my recent Gothika review, but. . .
This was something of a surprise, so if you have not yet seen the film I apologize for ruining the surprise but rest assured I am not giving enough detail so as to be a spoiler.
Britney was in the movie and there was no bumping, grinding, or gyrating! Yes, that's right Britney was in the movie and we did not see her bejeweled belly button. That is a damn shame.
And John Conyers got way more screen time.
"There's what's right, and there's what's right, and never the twain shall meet." - H.I. McDonnough, Raising Arizona
At first I thought the 1984 comparison was perhaps a little overdramatic. But then I realized that short of actually calling the current regime Nazis, it is reference to a totalitarian state that I would hope a majority of people understand.
And then I came home and read this:
Americans Object to War Images Online
and this:
Pentagon: Bush Military Records Destroyed
I had a revelation.
Ignorance is bliss. I love Big Brother.
|
Wednesday, July 07, 2004
an apology of sorts
Last night, whilest perusing the wit and wisdom of my dear friend, Cardinal Fang, I commented to give him a bit of rhetorical shit for his expression of self doubt surrounding the manuscript for his still unpublished novel.
Methinks I doth protest too much.
I spent pretty much all of yesterday going page by page through about a six inch stack of documents from the State Child Protection Agency and from the so-called Home for Children with Significant Medical Needs in no particular order, plus numerous other binders and folders that detail the life and times of The Boy while in the care of Ms. von Munchausen. I've spent about 13 hours today writing it up. So far I've got about 5 pages written.
The purpose behind this grand plan is primarily to file a complaint document with the State Board of Nurse Examiners so that her nursing license is revoked and she loses her livelihood as well as most of her power to harm children.
The secondary purpose is to simply put a rather complete document together that details Ms. von Munchausen's crimes against The Boy that can easily be shared at some future date with other interested parties, such as Stone Phillips.
Because as I have asserted from the beginning, a story about a woman who runs a foster home for really sick kids and has for many years, and who deceived the community for years out of their money and their accolades, and who uses mercury and other means to keep the children sick and make them sicker because she has Munchausen's by Proxy syndrome has Dateline written all over it.
What a monumental task. What a pain in the ass.
Am I up to it? I hope so. I joke because I care, but really. . .
Ms. von Munchausen seriously injured The Boy. She made a career out of abusing children. We hear reports that the police and the DA and the State Child Protection Agency are still "investigating", but what the fuck does that mean? All I know is it's been four fucking months to the day since she almost killed The Boy and that crazed bitch has yet to be held accountable.
Well, if the people whose job it is to do such things aren't doing their job, upon whose shoulders does that responsibility fall?
Mine. And The Wife's.
Do you think it's easy to try to prove to the world that a woman who won awards from the governor for her service to the community and has numerous pages of very positive local press has been abusing children for years and almost killed the one you now proudly call your son?
Especially when the kids who are her victims are Tards and/or AIDS Crack Babies so the sad truth is not a whole lot of people really seem to give a damn in the first place. It's not like the kids are gonna grow up and be President or anything.
It might be easier if I had the resources of a high powered attorney, or a moderately cited and highly celebrated university professor, or a rock star, or a successful novelist (sound familiar?).
"They flutter behind you, your possible pasts
Some bright-eyed and crazy, some frightened and lost" - Roger Waters
Every now and then I go through periods where I feel a lot like George Bailey.
It is a wonderful life, and I am grateful for my wonderful friends.
|
Methinks I doth protest too much.
I spent pretty much all of yesterday going page by page through about a six inch stack of documents from the State Child Protection Agency and from the so-called Home for Children with Significant Medical Needs in no particular order, plus numerous other binders and folders that detail the life and times of The Boy while in the care of Ms. von Munchausen. I've spent about 13 hours today writing it up. So far I've got about 5 pages written.
The purpose behind this grand plan is primarily to file a complaint document with the State Board of Nurse Examiners so that her nursing license is revoked and she loses her livelihood as well as most of her power to harm children.
The secondary purpose is to simply put a rather complete document together that details Ms. von Munchausen's crimes against The Boy that can easily be shared at some future date with other interested parties, such as Stone Phillips.
Because as I have asserted from the beginning, a story about a woman who runs a foster home for really sick kids and has for many years, and who deceived the community for years out of their money and their accolades, and who uses mercury and other means to keep the children sick and make them sicker because she has Munchausen's by Proxy syndrome has Dateline written all over it.
What a monumental task. What a pain in the ass.
Am I up to it? I hope so. I joke because I care, but really. . .
Ms. von Munchausen seriously injured The Boy. She made a career out of abusing children. We hear reports that the police and the DA and the State Child Protection Agency are still "investigating", but what the fuck does that mean? All I know is it's been four fucking months to the day since she almost killed The Boy and that crazed bitch has yet to be held accountable.
Well, if the people whose job it is to do such things aren't doing their job, upon whose shoulders does that responsibility fall?
Mine. And The Wife's.
Do you think it's easy to try to prove to the world that a woman who won awards from the governor for her service to the community and has numerous pages of very positive local press has been abusing children for years and almost killed the one you now proudly call your son?
Especially when the kids who are her victims are Tards and/or AIDS Crack Babies so the sad truth is not a whole lot of people really seem to give a damn in the first place. It's not like the kids are gonna grow up and be President or anything.
It might be easier if I had the resources of a high powered attorney, or a moderately cited and highly celebrated university professor, or a rock star, or a successful novelist (sound familiar?).
"They flutter behind you, your possible pasts
Some bright-eyed and crazy, some frightened and lost" - Roger Waters
Every now and then I go through periods where I feel a lot like George Bailey.
It is a wonderful life, and I am grateful for my wonderful friends.
|
Tuesday, July 06, 2004
evil or greed or both
"The Boy possibly has GERD (gastroesophageal reflux disorder) and he is on medication and an adjusted diet to treat that. He does have frequent projectile vomiting from the neurologic problems and his diet and weight have to be monitored very closely. The Boy is having increasing problems taking formula from a bottle and often forgets how to suck-and-swallow, with resultant choking, aspiration hazard, and poor intake. He is weighed daily and his formula concentration is adjusted in order to maintain/gain weight. As The Boy gets older his feeding skills will deteriorate further and he will eventually require tube feedings."
- Ms. von Munchausen, 12/02/2001 from an official quarterly MEDICAL UPDATE as part of the regular bureaucratic paperwork processs for the State Child Protection Agency.
Barely two months after she wrote that The Boy got a gastrostomy tube. Up until this past April he was not allowed to eat or taste anything orally. All of his nutrition was slowly and continuously pumped into his stomach via his g-tube. In April we had testing (which Ms. von Munchausen was vehemently opposed to and subsequently never allowed) that revealed The Boy can eat.
Interesting how she predicts the future, ain't it? It's even more interesting when you consider that we have yet to discover one valid piece of medical documentation which justifies the need for the surgery. And we've looked. We're still looking.
It get's more interesting when you consider that a kid with more significant medical needs, such as a g-tube, brings a significantly larger monthly check in the mail to their foster placement.
(How significantly greater? Ms. von Munchausen received 10 times(!) what we receive for the daily foster care rate to take care of The Boy -- That's one of the differences between love and money.)
That's funny, very funny. Because if I don't laugh the anger makes my blood begin to boil.
Today, The Boy ate plums for breakfast, beef ravioli for lunch, sweet potato's and zucchini for dinner.
|
- Ms. von Munchausen, 12/02/2001 from an official quarterly MEDICAL UPDATE as part of the regular bureaucratic paperwork processs for the State Child Protection Agency.
Barely two months after she wrote that The Boy got a gastrostomy tube. Up until this past April he was not allowed to eat or taste anything orally. All of his nutrition was slowly and continuously pumped into his stomach via his g-tube. In April we had testing (which Ms. von Munchausen was vehemently opposed to and subsequently never allowed) that revealed The Boy can eat.
Interesting how she predicts the future, ain't it? It's even more interesting when you consider that we have yet to discover one valid piece of medical documentation which justifies the need for the surgery. And we've looked. We're still looking.
It get's more interesting when you consider that a kid with more significant medical needs, such as a g-tube, brings a significantly larger monthly check in the mail to their foster placement.
(How significantly greater? Ms. von Munchausen received 10 times(!) what we receive for the daily foster care rate to take care of The Boy -- That's one of the differences between love and money.)
That's funny, very funny. Because if I don't laugh the anger makes my blood begin to boil.
Today, The Boy ate plums for breakfast, beef ravioli for lunch, sweet potato's and zucchini for dinner.
|
wasted potential
So last weekend The Wife and I sat down and watched Gothika. As far as psycho killer thriller mind fuck horror movies go, it was alright. It was entertaining and I'm not too proud to admit that there were one or two moments that actually made us jump.
However, I must say that it was something of a disappointment.
I'm not some ultra hip super cool only go to Vulcan Video to rent my movies type of pretentious artsy goateed "Tarantino is a God" film guy. I've never heard of the director, Mathieu Kassovitz, or the writer, Sebastian Gutierrez. To me they sound like a couple of Eurotrash art house types that deserve to be bitch slapped.
They had a women's prison shower scene with Halle Berry and Penelope Cruz!!!
Was there so much as the slightest hint of hot girl-on-girl women's prison shower scene action?
Fuck no! And that is a crying shame, a damn crying shame! (Can I get an "amen"?)
|
However, I must say that it was something of a disappointment.
I'm not some ultra hip super cool only go to Vulcan Video to rent my movies type of pretentious artsy goateed "Tarantino is a God" film guy. I've never heard of the director, Mathieu Kassovitz, or the writer, Sebastian Gutierrez. To me they sound like a couple of Eurotrash art house types that deserve to be bitch slapped.
They had a women's prison shower scene with Halle Berry and Penelope Cruz!!!
Was there so much as the slightest hint of hot girl-on-girl women's prison shower scene action?
Fuck no! And that is a crying shame, a damn crying shame! (Can I get an "amen"?)
|
Monday, July 05, 2004
lest we forget
On Saturday we attended a Welcome to Our Family and one month belated third birthday party for The Boy hosted by one of The Boys numerous symbolic aunts. Immediately after our arrival, The Boy received a button to wear which reads "I survived DAMNED near everything". Yes, yes he did. It was also a reunion of sorts for former employee's of Ms. von Munchausen and her so-called Home for Children with Significant Medical Needs. There was a comon feeling that all had lived through a traumatic event and had survived. The most remarkable survivior is, of course, The Boy. He survived two and a half years of abuse, both subtle and obvious, and let the record show that it was Ms. von Munchausen's hatred for The Boy that finally brought about her downfall.
The party was of great benefit to me as well.
You see, my dear readers, lately I have become something of a victim of our domestic familial bliss. The Wife, The Boy, and I, along with The Nurse, his nurse and other primary care-giver, the third of the three people who completely know and understand The Boy and his virtual aunt and therefore very real member of our family have all settled down in the comfort of routine. With each passing day the horrid events of four months ago slip farther into the past and into the dreamlike haze of memory. I had grown somewhat complacent.
Although I mentioned last week my intent to refocus my efforts on holding Ms. von Munchausen accountable for her actions, my heart was not in it. My anger had subsided and the task remained only as an unpleasant job to be completed, like cleaning up debris following a big storm.
No longer. I spent some time listening to "Ms von Munchausen said and did. . ." stories, as well as a new revelation or two: revalations about things like mercury and morphine
The evil fucking cunt ass bitch of a goat scrotum licking pig dick sucking witch of a shit licking whore!
The fires of anger have been rekindled and once again blaze brightly.
Because I have the time as today is the official government holiday for the 4th of July and as such the offices of the people I need to be harassing to do their job and bring the bitch down are closed and. . .
As a service to you, my dear readers, because I wish to share information as well as my passion and my outrage, I have reposted in chronological order the saga thus far. Consider it a greatest hits package of sorts. Happy reading.
the good doctor revealed (part two)
an early call
here's to you, ms. von munchausen
lost a battle, winning the war
a simple twist of fate
score update
wow. just plain wow. . .
happy endings, happier beginnings
background info related to the current saga
all over but the shouting
and the forest will echo with laughter
angel
the bitch just won't die
saturday, part 1
saturday, part 2
ms. von munchausen reavealed, sort of
more reasons why
ms. von munchausen revealed, finally
the never ending story
"the evil that men do lives on and on"
ms. von munchausen update
evil, creepy, and just plain fucked up
ms. von munchausen revisited
evidence of crazy
|
The party was of great benefit to me as well.
You see, my dear readers, lately I have become something of a victim of our domestic familial bliss. The Wife, The Boy, and I, along with The Nurse, his nurse and other primary care-giver, the third of the three people who completely know and understand The Boy and his virtual aunt and therefore very real member of our family have all settled down in the comfort of routine. With each passing day the horrid events of four months ago slip farther into the past and into the dreamlike haze of memory. I had grown somewhat complacent.
Although I mentioned last week my intent to refocus my efforts on holding Ms. von Munchausen accountable for her actions, my heart was not in it. My anger had subsided and the task remained only as an unpleasant job to be completed, like cleaning up debris following a big storm.
No longer. I spent some time listening to "Ms von Munchausen said and did. . ." stories, as well as a new revelation or two: revalations about things like mercury and morphine
The evil fucking cunt ass bitch of a goat scrotum licking pig dick sucking witch of a shit licking whore!
The fires of anger have been rekindled and once again blaze brightly.
Because I have the time as today is the official government holiday for the 4th of July and as such the offices of the people I need to be harassing to do their job and bring the bitch down are closed and. . .
As a service to you, my dear readers, because I wish to share information as well as my passion and my outrage, I have reposted in chronological order the saga thus far. Consider it a greatest hits package of sorts. Happy reading.
the good doctor revealed (part two)
an early call
here's to you, ms. von munchausen
lost a battle, winning the war
a simple twist of fate
score update
wow. just plain wow. . .
happy endings, happier beginnings
background info related to the current saga
all over but the shouting
and the forest will echo with laughter
angel
the bitch just won't die
saturday, part 1
saturday, part 2
ms. von munchausen reavealed, sort of
more reasons why
ms. von munchausen revealed, finally
the never ending story
"the evil that men do lives on and on"
ms. von munchausen update
evil, creepy, and just plain fucked up
ms. von munchausen revisited
evidence of crazy
|
Saturday, July 03, 2004
come ferry with me
Mr. Alan responds quickly. And he attached photos! I deeply regret that at this time I have not the means to post them. They portray a vaguely Middle Eastern appearing man in a hospital room connected to different pieces of medical equipment with tubes and wires with wounds and bandages on his throat. In the first he is lying in a bed. In the second, he is seated wearing naught but boxer briefs (ugh!) at a little rolling hospital bed table typing on a laptop.
__________
From : MR.B.ALAN (ba12aln@netscape.net)
Sent : Friday, July 2, 2004 4:29 PM
To : drnoyz@hotmail.com ("Polymer Noyz")
Subject : RE: Reply Soon
Attachment : pic1.jpg (0.04 MB), pic3.jpg (0.04 MB)
Dear Friend,
It is a thing of joy to receive your reply and to know that you are interested in assisting me in achieving my good deeds. I need you to be sincere and have the aim of the deed at heart. It is to assist the needy.
As I said in my previous mail, I have a short time left and I am in severe pains as I type you this mail. For this reason, I have forwarded all the documents that concern this transaction to my trusted lawyer, who resides in Europe.
You might still be wondering why I decided to contact you instead of usingmembers of my family. I tried them earlier and they failed by converting the funds for their own use. This was when I was undergoing my last operation and they eventually thought I wouldn't make it because the doctors said the possibility of survival was slim. After the operation, I discovered that the funds were not used as I instructed. I couldn't do anything about it because they are my family members. I have decided to use a neutral fellow, who does God fear and who also has the interest of man-kind at heart.
My state is so bad now and I don't know if I will still be alive to see this aim achieved but wherever I am, I will be happy if it is eventually achieved.
My friend, if you have the interest of the needy and you wish to assist is accomplishing this dream, come ferry with me in my canoe because it can accommodate two.
I decided to send you some picture by attachment.
As soon as you indicate interest, I will give you contact of my lawyer in Europe, so that you can carry on the transaction with him.
Hope to get your support.
BATES Alan.
__________
"come ferry with me in my canoe because it can accommodate two"??? Ho de ho! That's rich!
__________
To: Mr. Bates Alan (ba12aln@netscape.net)
From: Polyer Noyz (drnoyz@hotmail.com)
Sent: Saturday, July 3, 2004 1:27 am
Subject: RE: Reply soon
Mr. Alan,
I must confess to having experienced a brief feeling of surprise at the promptness of your response, but having read your correspondence I now better understand the urgency of your need.
Please forgive me, I meant not to disregard your privacy, but I took the liberty of forwarding your last letter to my oncologist friend for his professional evaluation. We discussed it at length over a double scotch on the rocks and some double D cups in our face between lap dances at our favorite gentlemen's establishment earlier this evening. Based upon your statement of severe pain as you type and his careful analysis of the visual images you attached I suspect that our worst fears may be realized. Pray tell me, has the cancer metastasized into Stage IVB?
On second thought, don't.
Please conserve your energy for more fruitful endeavours than the mere satisfaction of my curiousity.
You need not explain as to why you chose not to trust matters of finance to your family. It is a lesson my ex-wife, her divorce attorney, and the private investigator they paid for the photographs have taught me all too well.
Yes, my good man! Yes! I will do more than simply ferry with you in your canoe. I will attach a 150 horsepower Mercury outboard motor to the damn thing and we will literally fly across the water!
However, before we proceed, please alleviate one small concern.
In regards to your attorney in Europe, I trust he is not French. Their lack of support for the American President's efforts to rid the world of the menace and threat of global terror is quite appalling. I'll have an order of Freedom Fries with my hamburger, thank you very much. And their taunting! Oh their taunting is quite tiresome.
Hold on my friend, hold on, together we shall see this through.
Best wishes and fondest regards,
Doctor Polymer Noyz
|
__________
From : MR.B.ALAN (ba12aln@netscape.net)
Sent : Friday, July 2, 2004 4:29 PM
To : drnoyz@hotmail.com ("Polymer Noyz")
Subject : RE: Reply Soon
Attachment : pic1.jpg (0.04 MB), pic3.jpg (0.04 MB)
Dear Friend,
It is a thing of joy to receive your reply and to know that you are interested in assisting me in achieving my good deeds. I need you to be sincere and have the aim of the deed at heart. It is to assist the needy.
As I said in my previous mail, I have a short time left and I am in severe pains as I type you this mail. For this reason, I have forwarded all the documents that concern this transaction to my trusted lawyer, who resides in Europe.
You might still be wondering why I decided to contact you instead of usingmembers of my family. I tried them earlier and they failed by converting the funds for their own use. This was when I was undergoing my last operation and they eventually thought I wouldn't make it because the doctors said the possibility of survival was slim. After the operation, I discovered that the funds were not used as I instructed. I couldn't do anything about it because they are my family members. I have decided to use a neutral fellow, who does God fear and who also has the interest of man-kind at heart.
My state is so bad now and I don't know if I will still be alive to see this aim achieved but wherever I am, I will be happy if it is eventually achieved.
My friend, if you have the interest of the needy and you wish to assist is accomplishing this dream, come ferry with me in my canoe because it can accommodate two.
I decided to send you some picture by attachment.
As soon as you indicate interest, I will give you contact of my lawyer in Europe, so that you can carry on the transaction with him.
Hope to get your support.
BATES Alan.
__________
"come ferry with me in my canoe because it can accommodate two"??? Ho de ho! That's rich!
__________
To: Mr. Bates Alan (ba12aln@netscape.net)
From: Polyer Noyz (drnoyz@hotmail.com)
Sent: Saturday, July 3, 2004 1:27 am
Subject: RE: Reply soon
Mr. Alan,
I must confess to having experienced a brief feeling of surprise at the promptness of your response, but having read your correspondence I now better understand the urgency of your need.
Please forgive me, I meant not to disregard your privacy, but I took the liberty of forwarding your last letter to my oncologist friend for his professional evaluation. We discussed it at length over a double scotch on the rocks and some double D cups in our face between lap dances at our favorite gentlemen's establishment earlier this evening. Based upon your statement of severe pain as you type and his careful analysis of the visual images you attached I suspect that our worst fears may be realized. Pray tell me, has the cancer metastasized into Stage IVB?
On second thought, don't.
Please conserve your energy for more fruitful endeavours than the mere satisfaction of my curiousity.
You need not explain as to why you chose not to trust matters of finance to your family. It is a lesson my ex-wife, her divorce attorney, and the private investigator they paid for the photographs have taught me all too well.
Yes, my good man! Yes! I will do more than simply ferry with you in your canoe. I will attach a 150 horsepower Mercury outboard motor to the damn thing and we will literally fly across the water!
However, before we proceed, please alleviate one small concern.
In regards to your attorney in Europe, I trust he is not French. Their lack of support for the American President's efforts to rid the world of the menace and threat of global terror is quite appalling. I'll have an order of Freedom Fries with my hamburger, thank you very much. And their taunting! Oh their taunting is quite tiresome.
Hold on my friend, hold on, together we shall see this through.
Best wishes and fondest regards,
Doctor Polymer Noyz
|
Friday, July 02, 2004
i guess "in the navy" is too obvious
Nobody asked, but perhaps we have been told:
Colin Powell Sings Village People Song
I hear when he gets back to D.C. he and dubya are going to wow audiences at local karaoke bars with a moving cover of the classic Peaches and Herb song "Reunited".
|
Colin Powell Sings Village People Song
I hear when he gets back to D.C. he and dubya are going to wow audiences at local karaoke bars with a moving cover of the classic Peaches and Herb song "Reunited".
|
another intriguing proposal
From my electronic correspondence:
__________
From : MR. B. ALAN (batesalan@altbox.org)
Reply-To : (ba12aln@netscape.net)
Sent : Monday, June 28, 2004 6:12 PM
Subject : Reply Soon
Dear Friend,
As you read this, I don't want you to feel sorry for me, because, I believe everyone will die someday.
My name is MR BATES ALAN a merchant in Dubai, in the U.A.E. I have been diagnosed with Esophageal cancer .
It has defiled all forms of medical treatment, and right now I have only about a few months to live, according to medical experts.
I have not particularly lived my life so well, as I never really cared for anyone(not even myself but my business. Though I am very rich, I was never generous, I was always hostile to people and only focused on my business as that was the only thing I cared for. But now I regret all this as I now know that there is more to life than just wanting to have or make all the money in the world.
I believe when God gives me a second chance to come to this world I would live my life a different way from how I have lived it. Now that God has called me, I have willed and given most of my property and asset to my immediate and extended family members as well as a few close friends.
I want God to be merciful to me and accept my soul so, I have decided to give also to charity organizations, as I want this to be one of the last good deeds I do on earth. So far, I have distributed money to some charity organizations in the U.A.E, Algeria and Malaysia. Now that my health has deteriorated so badly, I cannot do this myself anymore.
I once asked members of my family to close one of my accounts and distribute the money which I have there to charity organization in Bulgaria and Pakistan, they refused and kept the money to themselves. Hence, I do not trust them anymore, as they seem not to be contended with what I have left for them.
The last of my money which no one knows of is the huge cash deposit of$18,000,000,00 that I have with a finance/Security Company Abroad. I will want you to help me collect my money and dispatched it to charity organizations.
I have set aside 20% for you and for your time, Please endeavour to contact me if you are willing.
God be with you.
BATES Alan
Amigo Querido, Pues usted lee esto, I don't quisiera que usted se sintiera apesadumbrado para mí, porque, creo cada uno morirá algún día. Mi nombre es SR. BATES ALAN al comerciante en Dubai, en el U.A.E.I se ha diagnosticado con el cáncer del esófago. Ha profanado todas las formas de tratamiento médico, y ahora tengo solamente sobre algunos meses a vivir, según expertos médicos. No he vivido particularmente mi vida tan bien, como nunca realmente cuidé para el anyone(not incluso mismo pero mi negocio. Aunque soy muy rico, nunca era abundante, era siempre hostil poblar y centrado solamente en mi negocio como ésa era la única cosa que cuidé para. Pero ahora lamento todo el esto mientras que ahora sé que hay más a la vida que apenas deseando tener o hacer todo el dinero en el mundo. Creo cuando el dios me da una segunda ocasión de venir a este mundo que viviría mi vida una diversa manera de cómo he vivido él. Ahora que el dios me ha llamado, he querido y he dado la mayoría de mi característica y activos a mis mi
__________
Ah, another desperate individual in a foreign land has reached out to me in their time of need. I am particularly impressed and perplexed by the bit in Spanish at the end. How can I not help this poor man? Perhaps this venture will be more successful than my efforts to obtain my share of my Uncle Walter's estate.
__________
To: Mr. Bates Alan (ba12aln@netscape.net)
From: Polymer Noyz (dr-noyz@hotmail.com)
Sent: Friday, July 2, 2004 1:52 PM
Subject: RE: Reply Soon
Dear Mr. B. Alan,
My good fellow, my heart quite simply breaks to read your tale of woe. To hear of a body not only destroyed but actually desecrated by cancer is always difficult for a man in my profession.
You see, sir, whether through blessed coincidence or the guiding hand of fate, you have contacted me, and I am quite convinced that I may offer some assistance to you in your time of need.
I am, in fact a practitioner of the healing arts, a physician by vocation and avocation. I am not an oncologist, although a friend of mine happens to be. Like many men of wealth and taste, we share a fondness for experiencing the finest in gentlemen's entertainment. As I recall, recently Candi and Brandi had pushed somewhat past the legal boundries of their profession and were shaking considerably more than their moneymakers when I had an opportunity to broach the subject of your plight with my colleague.
His first question regarded the exact type of cancer. Have you been diagnosed with squamous cell carcinoma or adenocarcinoma?
Either way, the treatments are similar. He suggested (and this is not a professional recommendation as he has not seen you as a patient and thus it would be unethical for him to do more than simply make suggestions) combined modality therapy (chemotherapy plus surgery, or chemotherapy and radiation therapy plus surgery) as a possible treatment. He further explained that effective palliation may be obtained in individual cases with various combinations of surgery, chemotherapy, radiation therapy, stents, photodynamic therapy, and endoscopic therapy with Nd:YAG laser.
So, good luck with that.
In regards to your other need, I believe I am also in a position to offer my assistance. You see, I have built a rather substantial practice as a physician by specializing in removing large sums of cash from my patients managed care health plans. I have some understanding of the delicate nature of discretely managing accounts of substantial size.
From you correspondence I have derived the distinct impression that we will be able to reach an agreement which is mutually beneficial to both parties. However, I urge that we handle this matter most discretely and with the utmost of caution.
It was just this past spring that my not so dearly departed as we were lead to believe Uncle Walter found himself in a similar financial bind. He too, had a large sum in foreign accounts and a need for rapid liquidation. His haste lead to carelessness and a substantial portion of his fortune was stolen by the cyber-pirates of The Crimson Permanent Assurance.
I await further instruction as your most humble servant.
Sincerely,
Dr. Polymer Noyz
|
__________
From : MR. B. ALAN (batesalan@altbox.org)
Reply-To : (ba12aln@netscape.net)
Sent : Monday, June 28, 2004 6:12 PM
Subject : Reply Soon
Dear Friend,
As you read this, I don't want you to feel sorry for me, because, I believe everyone will die someday.
My name is MR BATES ALAN a merchant in Dubai, in the U.A.E. I have been diagnosed with Esophageal cancer .
It has defiled all forms of medical treatment, and right now I have only about a few months to live, according to medical experts.
I have not particularly lived my life so well, as I never really cared for anyone(not even myself but my business. Though I am very rich, I was never generous, I was always hostile to people and only focused on my business as that was the only thing I cared for. But now I regret all this as I now know that there is more to life than just wanting to have or make all the money in the world.
I believe when God gives me a second chance to come to this world I would live my life a different way from how I have lived it. Now that God has called me, I have willed and given most of my property and asset to my immediate and extended family members as well as a few close friends.
I want God to be merciful to me and accept my soul so, I have decided to give also to charity organizations, as I want this to be one of the last good deeds I do on earth. So far, I have distributed money to some charity organizations in the U.A.E, Algeria and Malaysia. Now that my health has deteriorated so badly, I cannot do this myself anymore.
I once asked members of my family to close one of my accounts and distribute the money which I have there to charity organization in Bulgaria and Pakistan, they refused and kept the money to themselves. Hence, I do not trust them anymore, as they seem not to be contended with what I have left for them.
The last of my money which no one knows of is the huge cash deposit of$18,000,000,00 that I have with a finance/Security Company Abroad. I will want you to help me collect my money and dispatched it to charity organizations.
I have set aside 20% for you and for your time, Please endeavour to contact me if you are willing.
God be with you.
BATES Alan
Amigo Querido, Pues usted lee esto, I don't quisiera que usted se sintiera apesadumbrado para mí, porque, creo cada uno morirá algún día. Mi nombre es SR. BATES ALAN al comerciante en Dubai, en el U.A.E.I se ha diagnosticado con el cáncer del esófago. Ha profanado todas las formas de tratamiento médico, y ahora tengo solamente sobre algunos meses a vivir, según expertos médicos. No he vivido particularmente mi vida tan bien, como nunca realmente cuidé para el anyone(not incluso mismo pero mi negocio. Aunque soy muy rico, nunca era abundante, era siempre hostil poblar y centrado solamente en mi negocio como ésa era la única cosa que cuidé para. Pero ahora lamento todo el esto mientras que ahora sé que hay más a la vida que apenas deseando tener o hacer todo el dinero en el mundo. Creo cuando el dios me da una segunda ocasión de venir a este mundo que viviría mi vida una diversa manera de cómo he vivido él. Ahora que el dios me ha llamado, he querido y he dado la mayoría de mi característica y activos a mis mi
__________
Ah, another desperate individual in a foreign land has reached out to me in their time of need. I am particularly impressed and perplexed by the bit in Spanish at the end. How can I not help this poor man? Perhaps this venture will be more successful than my efforts to obtain my share of my Uncle Walter's estate.
__________
To: Mr. Bates Alan (ba12aln@netscape.net)
From: Polymer Noyz (dr-noyz@hotmail.com)
Sent: Friday, July 2, 2004 1:52 PM
Subject: RE: Reply Soon
Dear Mr. B. Alan,
My good fellow, my heart quite simply breaks to read your tale of woe. To hear of a body not only destroyed but actually desecrated by cancer is always difficult for a man in my profession.
You see, sir, whether through blessed coincidence or the guiding hand of fate, you have contacted me, and I am quite convinced that I may offer some assistance to you in your time of need.
I am, in fact a practitioner of the healing arts, a physician by vocation and avocation. I am not an oncologist, although a friend of mine happens to be. Like many men of wealth and taste, we share a fondness for experiencing the finest in gentlemen's entertainment. As I recall, recently Candi and Brandi had pushed somewhat past the legal boundries of their profession and were shaking considerably more than their moneymakers when I had an opportunity to broach the subject of your plight with my colleague.
His first question regarded the exact type of cancer. Have you been diagnosed with squamous cell carcinoma or adenocarcinoma?
Either way, the treatments are similar. He suggested (and this is not a professional recommendation as he has not seen you as a patient and thus it would be unethical for him to do more than simply make suggestions) combined modality therapy (chemotherapy plus surgery, or chemotherapy and radiation therapy plus surgery) as a possible treatment. He further explained that effective palliation may be obtained in individual cases with various combinations of surgery, chemotherapy, radiation therapy, stents, photodynamic therapy, and endoscopic therapy with Nd:YAG laser.
So, good luck with that.
In regards to your other need, I believe I am also in a position to offer my assistance. You see, I have built a rather substantial practice as a physician by specializing in removing large sums of cash from my patients managed care health plans. I have some understanding of the delicate nature of discretely managing accounts of substantial size.
From you correspondence I have derived the distinct impression that we will be able to reach an agreement which is mutually beneficial to both parties. However, I urge that we handle this matter most discretely and with the utmost of caution.
It was just this past spring that my not so dearly departed as we were lead to believe Uncle Walter found himself in a similar financial bind. He too, had a large sum in foreign accounts and a need for rapid liquidation. His haste lead to carelessness and a substantial portion of his fortune was stolen by the cyber-pirates of The Crimson Permanent Assurance.
I await further instruction as your most humble servant.
Sincerely,
Dr. Polymer Noyz
|
dreaming
"I was deep within a dream, an angel with a broken wing
She came to me and gently brushed a tear across my face"
- brimuzik, "Holly", 1995
My dear readers, I have shared with you in the past that I've been a special education teacher of students with significant with a capital fucking "S" disabilities for over a decade. I spend my days with people who cannot now, and in all realistic probability will never, walk or talk; with people who can't eat, sleep, or in many cases literally shit without somebody's help. Such is the life I have chosen. It's modest but it rocks. I wouldn't trade it for all the multi-platinum albums and groupie sex in the world.
The rush of thousands of screaming fans got nothing on the rush of witnessing that moment when the neurons connect and a student whom the world is quite willing to write off as "disabled" and "retarded" does something new because you raised the bar and then encouraged them to jump it.
And I'm just not egocentric enough to be a rock star.
As one of the weird and unforseen perks or consequences (depending upon your viewpoint, I reckon), I sometimes dream about the student's I teach. In my dreams, the students do more than walk and talk, they run and sing, they escape the bondage of their real world limitations.
Everybody I know who works with this population of children and young adults has similar dreams. Everybody.
"The only limits to our student's abilities are those of our imagination" - a mantra by The Good Doctor Noyz
__________
First, some background info for my newer dear readers:
When The Boy, who turned 3 about one month ago, was first and finally placed with The Wife and I last March we knew he had very limited movement in his arms. We were certain that he was paralyzed from the waist down.
We were very, very wrong.
Currently, although he does not have the motor coordination to balance and thus needs your help, he can stand up and support his own weight for about a minute, and if you lie him down he's got the strength and motion for crawling, he just has yet to master the coordination of the muscle groups involved.
_________
Last night, I dreamed of The Boy.
In my dream, The Wife and I are sitting on the couch, the T.V.'s on, but we're not really watching. It's just background noise. The Boy is older, he's five, maybe six. I don't recall what he wore.
He runs down the short hallway into the living room and stops beside the coffee table. He does not speak, he remains completely silent. His eyes playfully sparkle as they connect with mine. His one-sided Elvis grin taunts me as he turns and runs off.
Following the obligatory and unspoken hide and seek count I get up to follow. I walk down the short hallway into our bedroom. At the foot of The Wife's and my bed, a boy-sized shape appears to be hidden under the black throw blanket that usually stays folded across our feet. I know well how to play this game.
Dramatically from a child's perspective, I approach, "Oh, where is The Boy? Oh where could he be? . . . and what's this? Who left this big blanket here on the floor?"
I grab the blanket and toss it aside. The Boy looks up at me with laughter and jumps into my waiting arms.
And then the alarm clock or the dogs or something happenened and it's dream over.
__________
The Boy RUNS? The Boy JUMPS?
I dreamed it. That's damn near the same as imagining it. Now it's time to make it reality.
If I only knew how. . . and never forget my dear reader. . .
All for the Love of The Boy
|
She came to me and gently brushed a tear across my face"
- brimuzik, "Holly", 1995
My dear readers, I have shared with you in the past that I've been a special education teacher of students with significant with a capital fucking "S" disabilities for over a decade. I spend my days with people who cannot now, and in all realistic probability will never, walk or talk; with people who can't eat, sleep, or in many cases literally shit without somebody's help. Such is the life I have chosen. It's modest but it rocks. I wouldn't trade it for all the multi-platinum albums and groupie sex in the world.
The rush of thousands of screaming fans got nothing on the rush of witnessing that moment when the neurons connect and a student whom the world is quite willing to write off as "disabled" and "retarded" does something new because you raised the bar and then encouraged them to jump it.
And I'm just not egocentric enough to be a rock star.
As one of the weird and unforseen perks or consequences (depending upon your viewpoint, I reckon), I sometimes dream about the student's I teach. In my dreams, the students do more than walk and talk, they run and sing, they escape the bondage of their real world limitations.
Everybody I know who works with this population of children and young adults has similar dreams. Everybody.
"The only limits to our student's abilities are those of our imagination" - a mantra by The Good Doctor Noyz
__________
First, some background info for my newer dear readers:
When The Boy, who turned 3 about one month ago, was first and finally placed with The Wife and I last March we knew he had very limited movement in his arms. We were certain that he was paralyzed from the waist down.
We were very, very wrong.
Currently, although he does not have the motor coordination to balance and thus needs your help, he can stand up and support his own weight for about a minute, and if you lie him down he's got the strength and motion for crawling, he just has yet to master the coordination of the muscle groups involved.
_________
Last night, I dreamed of The Boy.
In my dream, The Wife and I are sitting on the couch, the T.V.'s on, but we're not really watching. It's just background noise. The Boy is older, he's five, maybe six. I don't recall what he wore.
He runs down the short hallway into the living room and stops beside the coffee table. He does not speak, he remains completely silent. His eyes playfully sparkle as they connect with mine. His one-sided Elvis grin taunts me as he turns and runs off.
Following the obligatory and unspoken hide and seek count I get up to follow. I walk down the short hallway into our bedroom. At the foot of The Wife's and my bed, a boy-sized shape appears to be hidden under the black throw blanket that usually stays folded across our feet. I know well how to play this game.
Dramatically from a child's perspective, I approach, "Oh, where is The Boy? Oh where could he be? . . . and what's this? Who left this big blanket here on the floor?"
I grab the blanket and toss it aside. The Boy looks up at me with laughter and jumps into my waiting arms.
And then the alarm clock or the dogs or something happenened and it's dream over.
__________
The Boy RUNS? The Boy JUMPS?
I dreamed it. That's damn near the same as imagining it. Now it's time to make it reality.
If I only knew how. . . and never forget my dear reader. . .
All for the Love of The Boy
|
Thursday, July 01, 2004
evidence of crazy
First, my dear readers, I would like to share this with you:
PHOTO HAS BEEN REMOVED
Ms. von Munchausen spews forth venom from her forked tongue.
There she is, Ms. von Munchausen. Malicious stone hearted cold blooded egocentric evil. Posing for the cameras last March outside the courtroom right after the judge approved the State's intervention to take away her children, lying to the community saying that she had "done nothing to violate the trust" placed in her.
I've been wanting to share that for months. Whomever said "discretion is the better part of valour" didn't just slam a couple cups of Folger's French Vanilla coffee spiked with double shots of rum. (I've got a week and a half vacation break between summer school sessions. I'm taking full advantage of it.). My patience, while legendary in some circles, is not limitless.
It has been three, going on four months since Ms. von Munchausen maliciously, if not fully intentionally, almost killed The Boy. Three going on four months since the State Child Protection Agency finally began paying attention and shut down her so-called Home for Children with Significant Medical Needs due to multiple allegations of child abuse and neglect. Three going on four months since a jar full of mercury was found in her bedroom. Three going on four months since the local police and the DA began their criminal investigations. Three going on four months since Medicaid began a massive fraud investigation.
And where is Ms. von Munchausen? We have heard she may have recently purchased another home. I don 't know how, and I don't know where. She is not in prison. She has not yet been arrested. I understand that the wheels of justice turn slowly, but come the fuck on.
So, during my week and a half vacation, I am returning to my crusade to bring the fucking bitch down.
It is my hope that my efforts, while not in vain, are unnecessary. The Wife just got a call from The Mole who is still working for the Board of Directors of Ms. von Munchausen's so-called Home for Children with Significant Medical Needs. The Mole and a couple others remained to clean up the mess, both literally and figuratively. The Mole just called and talked to The Wife about the various goings on. The Wife quoted her as quoting the Board's Lawyer referring to Ms. von Munchausen as saying, "she's just committing fraud left and right." And apparently Her husband, the Physically Abusive Possibly Pedophilic Idiot just struck some sort of deal with someone where he agreed to tesfify against her. I knew that sorry bastard would sell her out in about two seconds to save his own lame ass.
We'll see what happens and continue to wait, patiently if not quietly. And I'm not holding my breath. In the meantime, it's back to my crusade.
__________
Okay, I went off on a little tangent there. Sorry. I remain very emotionally invested in the subject and have been known to ramble incessantly on.
But now on to the (hopefully more entertaining) purpose of this little rant.
Yesterday, while going through piles of documents we have received from Ms. von Munchausen's so-called Home for Children with Significant Medical Needs, The Wife came across an early version of the place's history that Ms. von Munchausen wrote to deceive prospective donors. She makes mention of her dead daughter, who died at around age three from a still unknown and undiagnosed immune system disease. In my mind, I have little doubt that this child was her first victim.
Okay, now to the fun crazy part. . .
Ms. von Munchausen wrote that her dead toddler daughter's favorite book was The Prophet, by Khalil Gibran.
Really?
Okay, amazon.com describes this book as follows:
"In a distant, timeless place, a mysterious prophet walks the sands. At the moment of his departure, he wishes to offer the people gifts but possesses nothing. The people gather round, each asks a question of the heart, and the man's wisdom is his gift. It is Gibran's gift to us, as well, for Gibran's prophet is rivaled in his wisdom only by the founders of the world's great religions. On the most basic topics--marriage, children, friendship, work, pleasure--his words have a power and lucidity that in another era would surely have provoked the description "divinely inspired." Free of dogma, free of power structures and metaphysics, consider these poetic, moving aphorisms a 20th-century supplement to all sacred traditions--as millions of other readers already have."
Huh? A three year old liked this? I'm approaching the near side to forty and I think it's boring crap and would still prefer to read a good book by Dr. Seuss.
But then again, i'm not a toddler genious, so it's not surprising that I'm not moved by passages such as:
Then a mason came forth and said, "Speak to us of Houses."
And he answered and said:
Build of your imaginings a bower in the wilderness ere you build a house within the city walls.
For even as you have home-comings in your twilight, so has the wanderer in you, the ever distant and alone.
Your house is your larger body.
She's fucking crazy. Lock her up.
|
PHOTO HAS BEEN REMOVED
Ms. von Munchausen spews forth venom from her forked tongue.
There she is, Ms. von Munchausen. Malicious stone hearted cold blooded egocentric evil. Posing for the cameras last March outside the courtroom right after the judge approved the State's intervention to take away her children, lying to the community saying that she had "done nothing to violate the trust" placed in her.
I've been wanting to share that for months. Whomever said "discretion is the better part of valour" didn't just slam a couple cups of Folger's French Vanilla coffee spiked with double shots of rum. (I've got a week and a half vacation break between summer school sessions. I'm taking full advantage of it.). My patience, while legendary in some circles, is not limitless.
It has been three, going on four months since Ms. von Munchausen maliciously, if not fully intentionally, almost killed The Boy. Three going on four months since the State Child Protection Agency finally began paying attention and shut down her so-called Home for Children with Significant Medical Needs due to multiple allegations of child abuse and neglect. Three going on four months since a jar full of mercury was found in her bedroom. Three going on four months since the local police and the DA began their criminal investigations. Three going on four months since Medicaid began a massive fraud investigation.
And where is Ms. von Munchausen? We have heard she may have recently purchased another home. I don 't know how, and I don't know where. She is not in prison. She has not yet been arrested. I understand that the wheels of justice turn slowly, but come the fuck on.
So, during my week and a half vacation, I am returning to my crusade to bring the fucking bitch down.
It is my hope that my efforts, while not in vain, are unnecessary. The Wife just got a call from The Mole who is still working for the Board of Directors of Ms. von Munchausen's so-called Home for Children with Significant Medical Needs. The Mole and a couple others remained to clean up the mess, both literally and figuratively. The Mole just called and talked to The Wife about the various goings on. The Wife quoted her as quoting the Board's Lawyer referring to Ms. von Munchausen as saying, "she's just committing fraud left and right." And apparently Her husband, the Physically Abusive Possibly Pedophilic Idiot just struck some sort of deal with someone where he agreed to tesfify against her. I knew that sorry bastard would sell her out in about two seconds to save his own lame ass.
We'll see what happens and continue to wait, patiently if not quietly. And I'm not holding my breath. In the meantime, it's back to my crusade.
__________
Okay, I went off on a little tangent there. Sorry. I remain very emotionally invested in the subject and have been known to ramble incessantly on.
But now on to the (hopefully more entertaining) purpose of this little rant.
Yesterday, while going through piles of documents we have received from Ms. von Munchausen's so-called Home for Children with Significant Medical Needs, The Wife came across an early version of the place's history that Ms. von Munchausen wrote to deceive prospective donors. She makes mention of her dead daughter, who died at around age three from a still unknown and undiagnosed immune system disease. In my mind, I have little doubt that this child was her first victim.
Okay, now to the fun crazy part. . .
Ms. von Munchausen wrote that her dead toddler daughter's favorite book was The Prophet, by Khalil Gibran.
Really?
Okay, amazon.com describes this book as follows:
"In a distant, timeless place, a mysterious prophet walks the sands. At the moment of his departure, he wishes to offer the people gifts but possesses nothing. The people gather round, each asks a question of the heart, and the man's wisdom is his gift. It is Gibran's gift to us, as well, for Gibran's prophet is rivaled in his wisdom only by the founders of the world's great religions. On the most basic topics--marriage, children, friendship, work, pleasure--his words have a power and lucidity that in another era would surely have provoked the description "divinely inspired." Free of dogma, free of power structures and metaphysics, consider these poetic, moving aphorisms a 20th-century supplement to all sacred traditions--as millions of other readers already have."
Huh? A three year old liked this? I'm approaching the near side to forty and I think it's boring crap and would still prefer to read a good book by Dr. Seuss.
But then again, i'm not a toddler genious, so it's not surprising that I'm not moved by passages such as:
Then a mason came forth and said, "Speak to us of Houses."
And he answered and said:
Build of your imaginings a bower in the wilderness ere you build a house within the city walls.
For even as you have home-comings in your twilight, so has the wanderer in you, the ever distant and alone.
Your house is your larger body.
She's fucking crazy. Lock her up.
|
