Hi World:
I've said it many times....I'm not political.
My (previously) private theory is that some people go into politics for the wrong reasons and are by nature corrupt, some go into politics for the right reasons but end up corrupted or compromised, and a few people go into politics for the right reasons and are non-corruptable, but they make up the minority, leaving us with a largely untrustworthy governing body, regardless of who wins the election(s). Cynical is what I am. I'm not offering solutions and my opinions are defeatist, so I just keep waiting, along with John Mayer, for a change.
All that said, I do have a few opinions that I've been trying to suppress for a week, but they just keep coming back. The cliched "but". The proverbial cat that won't die. The hypocritical Chicken who claims no opinion but is, even now, dragging her soapbox to the microphone. Lowering the microphone. Catching the eye of each audience member in turn. Clearing her throat.....
"Spill" is a fairly inappropriate word for what has happened, don't you think? When I think of a spill, I think of a glass of milk, not 40,000 gallons of oil. A day. Still, I'm so tired of seeing Tony Hayward dragged across the coals. He is one guy. Yup. He sure seems callous, maybe he's arrogant, and he's definitely put his foot in his mouth on more than one occasion. Tony Hayward could very well be an asshole. I don't really know because I don't really know Tony Hayward. But unless he is Satan or Lex Luthor, I'm pretty sure he does, in his heart, wish this had never happened and not just because it threw his lifestyle out of whack.
This happened. Tony Hayward didn't make it happen and he isn't going to make it go away. We all have to figure out how to make it stop. I guess this is where I am treading that fine line. Am I being political? Not sure. There sure are a lot of politics involved, though, and I can't help but wonder whether the energy being spent placing blame could be better spent finding a solution. This is America. We can place blame later. If Brown University can take responsibility for their relationship to the slave trade 200 years after the fact, I'm thinking we can catch up with BP later. Right now, we need to make it stop, and that is up to all of us because ultimately it does not matter who is responsible. Ultimately, seriously, will we even be able to live on this planet long enough to seek reparations from BP in 200 years if we don't make this stop soon?
Here is a link to a NY Times series of photographs that chronicles the spill. The pictures speak for themselves. These are not all aerial photos. They are close up and personal and I can only imagine what the real thing is like for those living it right now. The Times has done a great job of tracking what's happened and I think they have been pretty objective. There are also a lot of twitterers following and giving up-to-the-minute reports. There are a lot of people focused on solutions and not blame and that is really heartening. Frankly, if Louisiana wants to have a day of prayer, good for them. I think that it is probably more productive than another congressional session, so why throw darts at Louisiana's prayer bubble? Let's all join in.
Click here for 10 things you can do to help.
Okay. I'm done now.
Oh. Hellllllll. I forgot about Abby Sunderland. While I'm handing out opinions, here is one on Abby. I think we parents today baby our kids too much. Guilty. But if my 50-year-old husband informed me he wanted to sail around the world by himself, I would tell him he's crazy. It's not the age that gets me. It's the idea. It is a well documented fact that Chickens do not like water. I think Abby's parents are very brave to let her try. Crazy, just like Abby, but brave:-)
Hopefully the ocean is still available in ten years for crazy 16-year-olds to try and conquer.
Chicken out
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
Sunday, June 13, 2010
I-P(R)OD to Action...
Wow. That's pretty lame, right? What do you suggest?
How are you? Well, I hope.
The other day I visited Binkies and Band-aids, Life With Irish Triplets and her subject was songs that defined certain points in her life. I thought this was a great subject and since it was a Mama Kat workshop subject, I thought I might even participate but it didn't happen. What songs define your life(ves)?
What did happen as a result of visiting B&B is that I spent today playing with my I-pod. Don't laugh, but I've never had one before. I got it for Christmas and am just now getting around to loading anything onto it. This was such a rewarding and fun experience that, in a totally unrelated but typical thought process, I decided that I am probably now equipped to answer any comment/question with a song quote. So go ahead.
Hit Me With Your Best Shot
Oh my. Did you link to that? I thought all those 80's skits were exaggerated. I stand corrected.Was I that stoned?
Moving on.
The first twenty songs I loaded onto the I-Pod were Sixties-ish dance favorites. You know: The Limbo song, Louie Louie, Do You Love Me, etc. By far, the family favorite is "Lime in the Coconut". I've posted the Midnight Margaritas scene from Practical Magic on The Chicken Crossing the Road (to the right and scroll down) in case you'd like a fix. It's a great kitchen dancing song, which is the only kind of dancing I do these days. Unless you count driving and dancing. Don't pretend you don't know what I mean.
Now I'm onto the task of loading all of our CDs, which is time consuming. Holy cow, we have a lot of CDs.
The real reason I've called you all here tonight is that Pearl Annabelle Lafleur has been "active" lately. You may recall that a few months ago I gave her her own page. And then didn't do anything with it. Now she is on my last nerve. Sorry Pearl, just calling a spade a spade. You are a pain in the ass. Bless your heart.
Anyway, Pearl wants to write an advice column. Her specialty, she says, is advice to the lovelorn, but since she's got an opinion on everything she'll respond to all questions. If you need any advice, feel free to post it here or email Pearl, care of me, Chicken, at chickensconsigliere@gmail.com if you prefer to remain anonymous. Tell your friends. Please. Pearl needs an outlet (besides me).
We'll see what happens.
It's the Midnight Hour and You're So Far Away From Me . I'm going to bed. Sleep tight, World.
No bed bugs.
Chicken out.
How are you? Well, I hope.
The other day I visited Binkies and Band-aids, Life With Irish Triplets and her subject was songs that defined certain points in her life. I thought this was a great subject and since it was a Mama Kat workshop subject, I thought I might even participate but it didn't happen. What songs define your life(ves)?
What did happen as a result of visiting B&B is that I spent today playing with my I-pod. Don't laugh, but I've never had one before. I got it for Christmas and am just now getting around to loading anything onto it. This was such a rewarding and fun experience that, in a totally unrelated but typical thought process, I decided that I am probably now equipped to answer any comment/question with a song quote. So go ahead.
Hit Me With Your Best Shot
Oh my. Did you link to that? I thought all those 80's skits were exaggerated. I stand corrected.
Moving on.
The first twenty songs I loaded onto the I-Pod were Sixties-ish dance favorites. You know: The Limbo song, Louie Louie, Do You Love Me, etc. By far, the family favorite is "Lime in the Coconut". I've posted the Midnight Margaritas scene from Practical Magic on The Chicken Crossing the Road (to the right and scroll down) in case you'd like a fix. It's a great kitchen dancing song, which is the only kind of dancing I do these days. Unless you count driving and dancing. Don't pretend you don't know what I mean.
Now I'm onto the task of loading all of our CDs, which is time consuming. Holy cow, we have a lot of CDs.
The real reason I've called you all here tonight is that Pearl Annabelle Lafleur has been "active" lately. You may recall that a few months ago I gave her her own page. And then didn't do anything with it. Now she is on my last nerve. Sorry Pearl, just calling a spade a spade. You are a pain in the ass. Bless your heart.
Anyway, Pearl wants to write an advice column. Her specialty, she says, is advice to the lovelorn, but since she's got an opinion on everything she'll respond to all questions. If you need any advice, feel free to post it here or email Pearl, care of me, Chicken, at chickensconsigliere@gmail.com if you prefer to remain anonymous. Tell your friends. Please. Pearl needs an outlet (besides me).
We'll see what happens.
It's the Midnight Hour and You're So Far Away From Me . I'm going to bed. Sleep tight, World.
No bed bugs.
Chicken out.
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
Chicken and the Genetically Altered Filet O' Fish....
Hi World:
You know what is really sad? When you are looking forward to the next day being Friday and you wake up from a dead sleep to realize that the next day is really only Thursday. It's not 2012 Apocalypse sad, no, but there are many different kinds of sad. This is one of the everyday ones for those of us with memory loss. Littleb wakes up every morning and says, "It's a boodiful nice day out there!" usually followed by, "what day is it, Mommy?" and it makes no difference to him....Monday, Tuesday, Saturday. It's all good. Let's all be like littleb tomorrow (Thursday for the record), that's my suggestion.
Anyway.
Those of you who have been reading my blog for awhile (okay, two weeks) know that I have an addiction for which I am in recovery. I'm sad to say that today I gave in to my addiction. But I learned from it, and that is almost worth it. Right? Right????
This is what happened:
Today I did not bring a lunch to work, as I usually do, and I happened to be on the road around lunchtime. I found myself hungry and at just the time I noticed my hunger, I found myself in front of a McDonalds. I didn't think twice. Or even once. I drove right up to the speaker and in a world-weary voice (for we have been here many times), I ordered a filet o' fish. My drug of choice.
Of course, I rationalized the hell out of this purchase. Here's my list of rationalizations:
I've been reading a bit about addiction lately in one of my Borders sales-rack-finds. In Susan Cheever's book "Desire" she examines sex addiction (No. Not even close. Ask BigB. It cost one dollar and her father was John Cheever. I'm a sucker for a good family name.). In the book, which I am really enjoying, by the way, she often talks about the addictive personality, rather than just the one distinct addiction. She talks (loose translation here) about how addicts enter a "zone" when their addiction yearning reaches critical mass and they often act with no later recollection of their actions. They just "awaken" from the zone feeling guilt and a sense of remorse.
Hello remorse. My old friend. I know I shouldn't have eaten you lovely filet o' fish. What did you ever do to me? Okay, you've clogged my arteries, made me sluggish, and I'm probably carrying around a few extra pounds, but that's down to me, right, my friend? No one forced me through that drive through. I was in the zone. And not in a good way.
When I came to, I did something that I never ever do. I read the nutrition facts that were handily printed on the (recyclable-good for you McDonalds) container. I do not ever read labels when eating something unhealthy because when you know something is bad for you, you really don't want to read HOW bad, am I right?
I figured a filet' o fish must contain about 1,000 calories and 40 grams of fat. I mean, look at it:
See all that yummy sauce, that triangle of cheese, that lovely bun?
Here is what the container said: 380 calories, 18 grams of fat, and 38 grams carb.
Huh? I think a handful of peanuts comes to about that. Am I the only one that finds this information hard to believe? I did a little research.
A filet o' fish is constructed as such: A roll (white), a breaded, fried, fish patty, tarter sauce (special sauce?), and american cheese.
Two tablespoons of tarter sauce contain 148 calories and 15 grams of fat. One slice of american cheese contains 106 calories and 8.8 grams of fat. A basic hamburger roll contains 79 calories and 1.2 grams fat.
Thus far, the count for all of the above together is 333 calories, 25 grams of fat?
It doesn't add up, does it World? And we haven't even added in the lovely breaded fried fish patty.
Has McDonalds discovered the secret of the negative-fat-fried-fish patty? I know their sauce is special, but is it that special?
It must be true. The poster boys for American obesity could not get away with undereporting their nutritional facts what with all the lynch mob mindset of the ADA and the "SuperSize Me" propaganda floating around out there.
Oh happy, boodiful day!
I will be indulging much more often now that I know how healthy o' choice my addiction is. Damn these nutritionists and their lying, manipulative ways. All these years, all the seas' fried bounty I could have enjoyed, all that specialicious sauce. NO MORE. I am in, McDonalds. I will no longer be manipulated by the machine known as the ADA. You can count on me.
Yes, I think I will have fries with that.
Sign me recovered,
Chicken out
DISCLAIMER: This Chicken is not receiving lobbyist monies from the Ronald. However, let it be known that should the Ronald reach into his deep pocket, Chicken is in. This product is obviously healthy and superior to other fried fish sandwich products on the market (this means you , BK BIG FISH).
You know what is really sad? When you are looking forward to the next day being Friday and you wake up from a dead sleep to realize that the next day is really only Thursday. It's not 2012 Apocalypse sad, no, but there are many different kinds of sad. This is one of the everyday ones for those of us with memory loss. Littleb wakes up every morning and says, "It's a boodiful nice day out there!" usually followed by, "what day is it, Mommy?" and it makes no difference to him....Monday, Tuesday, Saturday. It's all good. Let's all be like littleb tomorrow (Thursday for the record), that's my suggestion.
Anyway.
Those of you who have been reading my blog for awhile (okay, two weeks) know that I have an addiction for which I am in recovery. I'm sad to say that today I gave in to my addiction. But I learned from it, and that is almost worth it. Right? Right????
This is what happened:
Today I did not bring a lunch to work, as I usually do, and I happened to be on the road around lunchtime. I found myself hungry and at just the time I noticed my hunger, I found myself in front of a McDonalds. I didn't think twice. Or even once. I drove right up to the speaker and in a world-weary voice (for we have been here many times), I ordered a filet o' fish. My drug of choice.
Of course, I rationalized the hell out of this purchase. Here's my list of rationalizations:
- I need this filet o' fish because I have been eating all these soy beans, flax, almonds and salads and it is wreaking havoc on my intestines. I know. That is the saddest excuse ever, right? Totally true. I convinced myself that I needed a meal containing grease as the primary ingredient to flush all the roughage out. Picture, if you will, the intenstines as a Slip and Slide. Ahhh. Not so crazy after all, right?
- I haven't had a filet o' fish for three weeks
- If I were Catholic and it were Friday, I would be doing a pious thing (see how I did that? Pretty slick, right?)
- This would make a funny blog entry
I've been reading a bit about addiction lately in one of my Borders sales-rack-finds. In Susan Cheever's book "Desire" she examines sex addiction (No. Not even close. Ask BigB. It cost one dollar and her father was John Cheever. I'm a sucker for a good family name.). In the book, which I am really enjoying, by the way, she often talks about the addictive personality, rather than just the one distinct addiction. She talks (loose translation here) about how addicts enter a "zone" when their addiction yearning reaches critical mass and they often act with no later recollection of their actions. They just "awaken" from the zone feeling guilt and a sense of remorse.
Hello remorse. My old friend. I know I shouldn't have eaten you lovely filet o' fish. What did you ever do to me? Okay, you've clogged my arteries, made me sluggish, and I'm probably carrying around a few extra pounds, but that's down to me, right, my friend? No one forced me through that drive through. I was in the zone. And not in a good way.
When I came to, I did something that I never ever do. I read the nutrition facts that were handily printed on the (recyclable-good for you McDonalds) container. I do not ever read labels when eating something unhealthy because when you know something is bad for you, you really don't want to read HOW bad, am I right?
I figured a filet' o fish must contain about 1,000 calories and 40 grams of fat. I mean, look at it:
See all that yummy sauce, that triangle of cheese, that lovely bun?
Here is what the container said: 380 calories, 18 grams of fat, and 38 grams carb.
Huh? I think a handful of peanuts comes to about that. Am I the only one that finds this information hard to believe? I did a little research.
A filet o' fish is constructed as such: A roll (white), a breaded, fried, fish patty, tarter sauce (special sauce?), and american cheese.
Two tablespoons of tarter sauce contain 148 calories and 15 grams of fat. One slice of american cheese contains 106 calories and 8.8 grams of fat. A basic hamburger roll contains 79 calories and 1.2 grams fat.
Thus far, the count for all of the above together is 333 calories, 25 grams of fat?
It doesn't add up, does it World? And we haven't even added in the lovely breaded fried fish patty.
Has McDonalds discovered the secret of the negative-fat-fried-fish patty? I know their sauce is special, but is it that special?
It must be true. The poster boys for American obesity could not get away with undereporting their nutritional facts what with all the lynch mob mindset of the ADA and the "SuperSize Me" propaganda floating around out there.
Oh happy, boodiful day!
I will be indulging much more often now that I know how healthy o' choice my addiction is. Damn these nutritionists and their lying, manipulative ways. All these years, all the seas' fried bounty I could have enjoyed, all that specialicious sauce. NO MORE. I am in, McDonalds. I will no longer be manipulated by the machine known as the ADA. You can count on me.
Yes, I think I will have fries with that.
Sign me recovered,
Chicken out
DISCLAIMER: This Chicken is not receiving lobbyist monies from the Ronald. However, let it be known that should the Ronald reach into his deep pocket, Chicken is in. This product is obviously healthy and superior to other fried fish sandwich products on the market (this means you , BK BIG FISH).
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)