More ranting and raving!!

Yesterday, while browsing through some of my more favorite blogs to read, I came upon this post by Cinnikitty.

It got me so worked up, that I'm still kind of irate now just THINKING about it.

Things of this nature really hit close to home for me.

I mean, I'm a divorced father of 3, and it's like pulling teeth to get any kind of consistent support from their mother.

Yet, I have to wonder what makes the judges tick when they decide what amounts are "reasonable" for the paying parties...

Let me give you an example:

When my wife and I divorced, she was given custody of the kids because I was working 3 jobs, had no stable home, and was basically living hand to mouth from day to day.

Yet, even with my dire means of survival, the judge was 'gracious' enough to award my wife a monthly support amount of $750 to be paid in full each month.

Now, at that time, I was bringing home approximately $1,200 a month. Take out my rent, and it dropped to $300.

If I didn't pay the rent, I could buy some food, pay a couple of bills, pay the CHILD SUPPORT, and maybe have a couple of dollars left over for gas.

BUT! If I paid my rent to keep a roof over my head, I'd drop too far behind on payments to be able to make up the difference.

Did this matter to the court?

NO.

He determined that I could be making a base minimum wage of $16-$18 per hour, and that because I was working _3_ jobs that weren't clearing more than $1500 a month, that was my problem. I needed to take the initiative to get a better paying job, and drop the 3 that I had in order to cover my responsibilities.

Nothing like getting kicked in the nuts, and then having that person tell you that it only hurts for a bit, and to suck it up and keep going, is there?

The sad fact is that because of the hour requirements of the jobs I was working, I wasn't HOME enough to take care of my kids. I had, technically, ONE day off during the week, but that "day off" was actually the one day where I only worked ONE job for a half-day. That day was Sunday. The rest of the time I was up and working from 4am until 10pm. Monday through Saturday. I'd get just enough time to rush from one job to the next in order to keep the two higher-paying jobs afloat, and then I'd toss in extra time when I could on the weekends to the third job to get gas money. It was a vicious cycle.

Now, with all of that work, I had to get some sleep in. So I'd sleep from about 11pm until 3am, then get up and repeat the day. Sunday was the treat, in that I didn't have to start work until 10am, and was done by 3pm. That meant that I could go over and see my kids, play with them for a little bit, and then head home to get some sleep before starting the nasty work week all over again.

Now, somehow in that tangled mess of a schedule, I was supposed to blow off an employer, go fill out applications to other jobs that were better suited for family support, and then hope to God that I didn't get fired from the job I'd blown off so that I could still have money coming in while hoping that the jobs I'd applied for called me for an interview so that I could potentially blow off said job again for the chance at another one...

Do you see the irony in this?

You have a job, yet you have to drop that one because a person told you to, in order to apply for a potential job (that many others will be applying for as well) in order to get an interview.

I was FURIOUS.

Yes, he's a judge, and someone who is (technically) an authority figure. But who the hell does he think he is to dictate to me what I should and should NOT be doing in my family life? Don't make a personal vendetta against working class people, tell them that they can and need to do better, and then force them into unlivable circumstances just to force a change.

Well, after the ruling, I tried to do exactly like the judge ordered.

Within 2 weeks, I had my part-time job left, as the other two fired me for not showing up for work.

Suddenly my $1,200 a month income dropped to $350.

Now I couldn't even pay rent, let alone keep food in my stomach, or pay bills.

I fell into a severe depression. I didn't care about how I was doing. I didn't care about my family. I was a failure.

The feelings of inadequacy were terrible. Failure seemed to be the one thing that I was actually good at. I mean, I had a FAILED marriage, I used to have jobs, but I FAILED two of them. I used to be able to support myself, but now I was FAILING at that as well.

Jormengrund=FAIL. That was my life equation.

I finally got evicted from my small home. With no place to go, I turned to my parents. I was desperate for some place to live while I looked for work, and felt that my family would offer some kind of help.

My mom refused. I wasn't to come near their house, and until I could get my life straight, I wasn't to contact them AT ALL.

Great.. More failure. This time with the people who are supposed to love and support you NO MATTER WHAT.

Then, a small glimmer of light.

My grandpa asked me to come over and help him work on the small shop he'd been building for his woodworking stuff. I came over and lent a hand. During the work, he offered me a place to live, in exchange for help around the house. He and my grandma were getting old enough that an added hand around the house for chores would be a great help. I needed a place to stay, and they were willing to give me one as long as I was willing to work for it.

I grasped at this chance with both hands like a man hanging on the edge of a cliff would to a rescue rope. I still had some meager income, and I needed some of it to pay for the gas I was using to get to job interviews. The rest I sent off for child support. Yet I continued to fall behind because my entire earned income still wasn't enough to cover my payments.

My grandpa hired an attorney to see about getting the payments reduced, but the judgement held. I had the "potential" to earn "X" amount, and thus I needed to live up to that potential in order to meet the judgement. No change was given.

So, I worked around my grandparent's house, fixing things, cutting the lawn, weeding, painting, mopping floors, carrying laundry, driving them to and from town.. Whatever they needed done, I did it. I also applied everywhere I could. I didn't care about what state, I didn't care about what field it was in. I didn't care about anything but getting that job that the judge insisted was my saving grace.

A year went by. Two. I never saw my tax returns. The money that I'd get would immediately be sent to help pay down my outstanding balance of child support. I fell deeper into debt with that payment. I mean really... Even paying the entire amount of my monthly income was still dropping me $400 into the hole EACH MONTH. Depression kicked in again.

Then, my part-time job closed.

No work, no money, no potential employers.

I'd hit rock bottom. There was no place left to go but up.

A friend of mine offered to take me out one night for a couple of drinks in order to try to cheer me up. We went to a small bar, and had a pretty good time. While there, an old neighbor of mine spotted me, and we started talking.

That man gave me the first small break since I'd hit bottom. He offered me a job working for him. My title? Karaoke DJ.

Yeah. Glamor galore. But it was a start in getting myself back on track. He promised to help out as much as he could, as long as I was willing to put the effort into helping him as well. I agreed.

Now, I was starting to make some headway. I had a job that I worked 6 nights a week at, sometimes I even worked mornings in his new storefront. I still lived with my grandparents, but I was actually starting to make ends meet.

Then, I met HER. My wife.

I joke about her being one of the "stalkers" that used to chase me around while I was running the karaoke stuff, but there was something seriously different about her that caught my eye. She saw something in me that made me think that I could be more than even that judge thought. For the first time in a very long time, I started to feel.... HOPE.

We started dating. Thanks to her influence, I started seeing my kids more. I'd been ashamed to bring them over to my grandparent's house where I lived because I didn't want the kids to see me living so destitute. However, she told me that my kids just needed a dad, and that they wouldn't care about where I lived, as long as they were able to be there with me. As usual, she was right.

I was finally able to get some temp work as a laborer during this time as well, and started making more. Thanks to her help, I was able to pay down some of my debts, and slowly crawl back into the light. She offered me the chance to move in with her, and get out of my grandparent's house. I agreed, but I also promised my grandparents that I would still come around to take care of things for them.

Things were going well. Until we had our first big fight.

Suddenly, I was kicked to the curb. No place to stay, and no ray of hope or sunshine to light my path.

That is, until my future Mother-in-law stood up for me.

In this woman, I saw what it was like to have a mom. To have someone care for you because of WHO you are, not what you can do for their reputation.

I felt loved again, and the hope bloomed.

We reconciled, and apologies were made. I had regular visitation with my kids now, and things were going well...

Until we found the bruises on my youngest son.

Their step-dad had been taking to beating each of the kids with a paddle when he felt they were doing something wrong.

Now, don't get me wrong. I'm not against spanking when needed.

But to use a wooden paddle on a 2 year old boy?

I wanted to literally kill that man when I found out about this.

My wife called my dad and brother in order to keep me in the house. We then called to have CPS investigate.

Somehow, the slippery bastard was able to get out from under the charge of abuse. I don't know to this day how he managed it, but each and every time I see him give me some smug smile, I have to fight in order to keep myself from knocking his teeth in.

Because we couldn't get the charge of abuse to work, I went a different route to save my kids. I filed for custody of them.

At this time, I had a solid job, a stable home, and pretty good means to support myself.

Thus, we went to court in order to settle this.

After SIX months of deliberation, I was granted custody of my children. This, in and of itself, is quite unheard of in this state, since the common term for this state is a "mom centralized state" which means that unless I was able to show neglect or a lack of vital care, the mother would retain custody.

Apparently the judge in this case was able to see the same things that we were seeing.

Then, the determination for support sent into effect.

Can you guess how much my wife was then asked to pay ME for these kids?

It wasn't NEARLY the amount I had to shuck out, and she'd been making TWICE my pay when that decision had been made.

No. She was only required to pay $550 every TWO months.

Yeah.

I'd had to pay $1500 every two months, and she only needed to pay $550.

So apparently not ONLY does the person who make less have to pay more, but the father is expected to pay at least double what a mother can, even if she's unfit!


OK.

I think I've got a bit more control..

Anyway, since that time, my kids have become more stable, less moody, better students, and overall are more well-adjusted than they ever were while living with their mother.

I seriously have to give credit for much of this to my wife. She and I have worked tirelessly to get the things my kids need in order to thrive.

Yet, the post CK had written was about mothers sitting around expecting to get paid for doing NOTHING.

That's exactly what my ex and her hubby do.

He's a worthless piece of crap with SIX kids who doesn't hold down a job, and expects to get "disability" (any day now) and she works for a doctor's office, and tries to bribe them into "conveniently" forget about making the support payments from time to time.

There has NEVER been a consistent time when I've gotten cash from her. Either it's late, or they forgot, or the check gets lost, the account gets screwey, etc, etc, etc...

All I ask is for some consistency so that I can better take care of my kids.

In order to do this, I've got a job now where I don't have to depend AT ALL on the support, and if/when we DO get the money, it's an unexpected windfall, and we put it away, or use it to buy things that could really help the kids. Rarely, if ever, have the wife or I used any of that cash for ourselves. We use the child support just for that. The children.

Anyway, I think I'm done ranting, and this post has gotten WAY too long.

Only 13 more days until we run off to Disneyland!

Have a great weekend, and I'll talk with you all on Tuesday.

A minior personal revelation...

Let's get something straight here..

I'm an ass.

Not just ANY ass, but a sincere ass.

Heck, I'm even "PC" enough to admit that I'm an equal-opportunity asshat. It doesn't matter to me who or what you are, I'll be happy to oblige you with my assholed-ness.

There have been some times where this attitude has gotten me in trouble. Yeah, it doesn't work so well at the workplace, but I've been known to make it work (current job being proof of this!). It doesn't sit well in some social situations. Like when trying to apply for a mortgage, or debt consolidation, or buying a car, etc..

There are times when it's come in EXTREMELY handy. Those annoying telemarketers that seem to know when you're sitting down for dinner with the family, door-to-door salespeople, Jehova's Witness door knockers, Heck, even Mormon door-knockers!

It REALLY doesn't do me any good when I follow folks into a place. The main reason for this is that they then get marked for all of MY hard work. I mean, I'm an ass, but I like to take the credit for my butthole ways. I don't appreciate someone getting all the glory for my behavior. If I go to church with my folks, and I'm an ass, I don't want folks blaming my dad for my actions (as usually happens on the rare time I go to church with my folks). I don't want some waiter thinking that my friend is a jerk when I tell him off for not getting my order right. If I'm an ass to you, don't blame the other person for bringing me. BLAME ME.

Because of this, I want to let folks know that I rarely apologize for my behavior. Sure, you don't deserve treatment like this, but reading about how I chewed out someone else makes for funny reading... Unless you're the one who got the chewing. Then it becomes personal, and personal isn't funny.

I read a TON of blogs. I know there are some out there who read more, but I'm dedicated to a few, and I make comments on them consistently to let them know of my approval or disapproval of a post.

A couple of days ago, I made a biting and sarcastic comment on one of the blogs I follow. The reasoning behind it was all about things that were happening in my area, and I applied the rationale to an instance that was actually happening clear across the nation from where I was located.

I made a generic statement, and coupled a large group in my comment.

Yeah. It was aimed at the gay community.

Because of this, a gay person had to come forward, and complain about my biting and sarcastic remark.

Unknown to this person, I have quite a few Gay and Lesbian friends that I'm actually quite proud to call my friends. The ones that read my comments actually wanted to give me the "high 5" for it, because of the crap that's happening around here.

It's really all a matter of perspective. Someone somewhere doesn't find it funny, yet someone else in another state finds it drop-dead hilarious.

Tomato, tomatoe, really.

So, even with my explanation, I still stand by my comment on that blog. Yes, it's degrading to some extent, yet if I found someone of my ilk doing the same thing, I'd use the samn big-ass brush, and paint us all that color. If you condone the behavior, you might as well get on the bus instead of point a finger.

So, do I think that all gay people are assholes? Only as much as I think all white folks are stuck up, and all black people are angry about their ethnicity. Only as much as I think all American Indians are greedy alcoholics, and Jewish folks are penny-pinching misers.

Get my point?

Good, now get over my smart ass, and just feel free to read.

Yes, I'm pathetic!

That's right.

Why?

Because I'm willing to do just about anything at times to get my way.

Want proof?

Fine.

Back around 1980, I was in the third grade, and was pretty thin for my height and age.

Seriously.

My mom thought I was some albino Ethiopian. I had a bit of a pot belly, was nearly 5'8", and barely 100 pounds.

It was during this time that my favorite aunt was seeing this guy that my brother and I _really_ liked.

He was funny. He took us fishing. He could cook. He took us camping. He was polite. Did I mention he took us fishing??

Anyway, he was the perfect man in our eyes.

We actually looked forward to the alternate weekend when my folks would drop us off at my grandparent's house, and take off on their "date night". Usually, my grandparents would go to some activity, so my aunt and her boyfriend would watch the two of us.

This was a perfect scenario for the two of us. Favorite aunt. Great boyfriend, no parents. HEAVEN.

Yeah. Pizza. Fast food. Candy. Treats. Ice Cream. No "real" rules, and at the end of the night, the two hyped-up kids were then returned to their "normal" home to burn off the serious sugar coma.

As happens in many relationships, my aunt and boyfriend came to a disagreement one week. As luck would have it, it was the weekend we were supposed to be watched. Depression set in madly with just the three of us there. Something fun was missing, and it was her boyfriend. We all knew it, so no words had to be spoken.

After that night, my brother and I agreed that we needed to get the two of them back together, and make it stick.

The next week, they started talking again, and mending seemed to be progressing smoothly.

Until the news that they'd had another argument.

No! Not the week of our date night! This can't happen!

So, I pulled a mean, nasty, and underhanded trick out of the "do not play" pile.

I got my brother to whine at my aunt, and ask the boyfriend over for some pizza. Faced with an "adorable" face, she couldn't say no, and allowed the call. He then proceeded to whine at the boyfriend until he agreed to come over for dinner.

With the plan in motion, we had a quick conference to set our plans into motion.

Here was the basic idea:

We'd impress them both with what we could do, and because they'd be so in awe of our abilities, they'd forget about their problems, and keep being with us so that they wouldn't miss anything later on.

In the mind of an 8 and 4 year old, this was PERFECT.

Because of my size, I was amazing at climbing trees. There were quite a few around my grandparent's yard, and I climbed them all. Big, small, medium, it didn't matter. If it grew, sprouted leaves, and had roots, I climbed it.

There was one tree that I loved to climb more than any other. It was a HUGE cherry tree in their backyard. It seriously towered over the house, and was a full, vibrant tree. There were endless possibilities in the branches. Thick ones for sitting on, thin ones to swing on, crooked ones to jump around on.. The list could go on and on.

For this night, I picked my favorite tree, and started my routine. I'd scamper up the trunk, swing into the lower branches, and then Tarzan swing up to the higher limbs.

Everything went according to plan. Perfectly still night, good grip, solid start.

Until I got to the upper branches.

You see, I was so light that I could honestly swing in the upper limbs without breaking them. This meant that I really had no fear of how thick or thin a branch was, I'd grab on and climb.

On this night, that habit got me into trouble.

The branches I'd been scampering through weren't as green as they'd used to be, and a couple snapped after I let them go. Not realizing the danger, I kept up, and eventually my luck ran out. The branch I was holding onto broke, sending me down to the ground.

Two things ensured that my life was spared that night.

One, was that I hit a VERY large branch on the way down, which flipped me over, and caused me to land on my back.

Two, the house was very close to the tree, and it didn't take long after the breaking branch for them to know that something was wrong.

After falling from approximately 50 feet, I hit the ground directly over an exposed root on my lower back. This caused my spine to compress, and fracture in three places.

The snapping branches and following thud let everyone in the house know that something was wrong, and my aunt and her boyfriend were immediately outside.

I couldn't breathe. I could barely stay consious. The one thing I _do_ recall was the face.

Concerned eyes looking me over. A gentle voice talking to me. A quick "call the hospital, we're taking him in". Strong but gentle hands and arms scooping me up like I was a feather. The musky smell of cologne.

I passed out on the way to the hospital, and woke in the exam room from smelling salts. I was placed on a backboard, and forced to lie straight so that they could get x-rays.

The film wasn't pretty.

Because of my age, my bones were still pretty pliable, and hadn't completely shattered under the force of the fall. However, they had crushed together, and were now one massive lump of bone that couldn't be discerned from one another.

I was given some painkillers, and given a room. My aunt and her boyfriend stayed with me all that night, even when my parents showed up.

The doctor came in to see us all that next morning. The decision was to NOT fix the bones, but to allow my spine to heal. This was going to be done by fitting me with a back brace, and forcing my back into the position it needed to be in when the bones healed. I would have to stay in the hospital for at least a week, and then I could be fitted and sent home.

Joy.

So, for the next week, I was in traction, and bed-ridden. My folks came to visit, but the one consistent visitor I got?

Yeah. You guessed it. My aunt and her boyfriend.

They'd come visit each and every day. They'd bring chocolate milk, and cookies, and some small hand-held games to play, and just sit and have fun with me in that boring sterile hospital room.

I got out, healed up, and got better. Things returned to normal.

Then, I was asked to be in the wedding, where my aunt married the man who showed so much compassion to a young boy.

Yeah. I got what I wanted.

Sure, it didn't go as I planned EXACTLY, but I still got what I wanted, now didn't I?

Rest in peace Gordon Eddy. You'll always be my favorite uncle.

Gordon Eddy. 1951-2005

Comments, queries, and posers..

I was going to write something humorous, but after this weekend, I've decided to go a different route.

My sister-in-law is a great lady. She cares, and does everything she can to help her daughters.

This last year I saw this woman's heart get torn completely in two, and now the pain has come full circle, and she's dealing with the problems and issues that her two daughters, my nieces, are going through.

You see, her husband cheated on her last year, and she's not been the same since.

I've never really liked the man. He was quite judgemental, and really never game me a chance to get to know him, or even attempt to get to know the person I am. Because of this, I was never "good enough" for him or his family.

Now? I could care less about his opinion, as from my point of view he's no better than anyone else. He's a lying, cheating, selfish, good-for-nothing man who only cares about when he's going to get laid next, and if he's got enough cash in his account to keep food in his stomach.

However, this has completely ripped apart my SIL. These two married basically right out of High School. She'd never been with anyone else, and had only known him and the life she'd lead with him in it. Two daughters later, and she was happy knowing that her family was provided for, and taken care of.

All that changed when the truth came out.

She left.

I don't blame her there. How can you stand to be in the same room with someone who's been living a lie? How can you look into their face, and think that they're going to be honest with you EVER again? How can you live in a house where someone else has come in a defiled not only your home, but your sense of security?

Her way of dealing was to get drunk. Quite often.

Becoming so numb that the pain would lessen, and she could unbend enough to find some other man besides her ex to fill the void she had inside of her. (not sexually, you perverts!)

This led her on a merry dance for a while. One guy to the next. Each one she's spout all of these praises about their good traits. But within weeks, the bad stuff would overcome it all, and her suspicions would take over, and the fantasy would crumble.

Imagine her girls, trying to make sense of it all. Hoping that mom would be able to find some place to set down roots. Hoping against hope that the home dance would be over soon. Trying to cope with their own sense of loss and anguish over the split and hurt they could see in their mother and father.

All of these feelings became internalized in the girls. One now has serious anger issues, and I honestly think that she needs counselling in order to get the problem under control. The other has commitment issues, and doesn't trust her partner to be honest with her, regardless of the relationship history. All of this because the ONE MAN they could trust in their lives destroyed it all for a woman.

Yet he still has the gall to claim that his actions didn't cause this, it was brewing from before.

Right now, my SIL has a guy who seems like a nice man. He's sincere, and he's honest. He's got a couple of great kids, and he treats her like the fragile personality that she is.

However, I've got to be honest here.

I'm waiting for the point in time where some fault of his is going to push her away.

I've seen her happy. I've seen her miserable. And I honestly can't see her settle right now. She's got too much going on that she's trying to ignore. There's not going to be any kind of peace for her until she's able to come to terms with this, and it honestly hurts me to have to admit it.

She's met some great guys. Yeah, they've had issues.

Honestly, show me some guy that DOESN'T have issues, and I'll get the campaign set up for him to be the next US President!

But seriously, guys as a whole are screwed up. We mess up TONS. It's genetic, I think.

So guys are flawed, and girls use this opportunity to "fix" them, right?

How does someone who is recovering from a nasty situation like this ever find the strength to try again?

I don't know.

All I know is that I really do hurt for her, and I hope she's able to find peace.

Funny stuff tomorrow, I promise!

Interviews, Interviews, Interviews!!

Jennybean was kind enough to send me some interview questions, so I'm going to answer these, and hope that I don't repeat any of the answers in the last two that I've gotten..

Here it goes.

Oh, by the way:

There are easy ways to get interviewed.

Just ask me in comments, and I'll email you a list of 5 questions for your interview.

Then, later on, you can post and link back to this page.

Simple, easy, and it's actually kind of fun as well..

Anyway, on to the interview!!

1. How did you meet your wife? When did you know she was "the one"?

My wife actually started by chasing me! I was running Karaoke at a bar, and she asked my brother’s girlfriend at the time if I was single.. Thus, she started stalking the places where I’d run the systems, and would conveniently show up where I was scheduled to show up! A match made in heaven, if you ask me!

2. What personality differnces do you see in your children?

Heh.. Is there a limit?

Let’s see. My oldest is the lawyer of the family. He needs to have each and every part of a parental decree laid out in no uncertain terms. If anything is left ambiguous, he’s more than willing to take advantage of it. Reminds me of my younger self in many ways.

My daughter is the drama queen and center stage prima-donna. She loves to dance. She loves to sing. Everything she says or does just happens to be over-the-top. There’s nothing really shy or bashful about her until she meets strangers. Then she huddles into a corner and waits to see if you’ll be nice or mean.

My youngest is the flirt. He’s VERY touchy-feely, and loves numbers. If you were to allow him to sit at a table all day and count change, he’d be in a minor level of heaven. Give him some milk and the occasional hug, and you’ll never hear from him until the change is all counted, stacked, and written down.

3. What is your favorite part of your job? Least favorite?

Favorite part of the job has got to be the problem solving. Getting in there and finding out why something won’t tick. When you solve it, and get it running, you become “superman” in the facility for a while.

Least favorite? The managers who decide that they’re better than you because of the title. I’ve complained about them plenty in my blog.

4. Weird stuff happens sometimes. What is the strangest thing that has ever happened to you?

Strangest? That’s got to be the time I had a manager complain about her “cup holder”. Yeah. She was using the DC tray to hold her coffee cup, and would spill it every time she booted the machine.

5. Do you have a stupid human trick or any sort of strange talent? Please do share!

Stupid? I don’t think so. I can play piano, and I sing a bit. I also adore reading..
Wait.. I do have one quirk!
I can crack the knuckles of my big toes on command. LOUDLY. It really annoys my wife when I do it to excess at times unthinkingly.

Well, there's my interview.

Hope you enjoy, and have a GREAT week!

General Ranting..

Today, I'm just going to go off on things that have bothered me, and see where it takes me.

First, I'm going to go off on these "reality" TV shows.

How in the hell can ANYONE really think this is "Reality" TV when everything seen on the tube is cut and edited for "good television"?

Reality, by definition, isn't something that can be scripted. So how can a network seriously claim that their show is all about reality when they're cutting, pasting, and molding a story for their viewers who want juicy gossip about who's doing what on that one show?

Let's point out a few, and see who agrees with me.

American Idol. Not really a "reality" show, but it's still pretty pathetic in my opinion. Yeah, some good singers have been found, but the main premise behind the whole thing is to show off some nasty attitude Brit who makes biting and insulting comments to contestants, and gets THANKED for it.

Anyone else sense the irony here?

Big Brother. Yeah. Gossip-fest galore. At the start, it's all about who's going to shack up with whom. Then it's all about what person is going to backstab the other, and so on and so forth. Reminds me of the trite analogy of the two housevies gossiping along the fence while doing laundry.

Survivor. Seriously. You take a bunch of folks, stick them on a remote deserted place, starve them for a while, then make them jump through all of the hoops. Meanwhile, they're all still messing with each other's heads, and trying to be the last person standing. Pathetic.

The Biggest Loser. Yeah, losing weight is a great idea and goal. But to make a "reality" gameshow out of it? The weight loss is impressive. But have you ever really watched near the end of the season? At the beginning, all the entrants have very skimpy clothes on, and show off all the disgusting blubber. But at the end? They cover up the flab, in order to impress you with their weight loss. What aren't they showing? The piles and PILES of skin that are now draped from their bodies from the massive weight loss. This is usually only able to be corrected by surgery, and removal of the excess skin and fat collected there. So, is this reality? I don't think so.

The Batchelor. Now, come on. Take a guy, stick him in a romantic location with 25-odd beautiful women, and make him choose ONE. First off, unless the man is independently wealthy, he's not going to be living in a mansion like they house these women in. Second, they wouldn't be going on all of those lavish and romantic escapades. Third, if he's a TRUE guy, he wouldn't be able to juggle all of those women, and if these were TRUE women, NONE of them would stand to deal with the others if the man showed any promise or affection to one of them. Reality TV? Not even close.

I know there are more out there, these are just the ones off the top of my head. I know that Brad over at Diaries of the Professor did a blasting of Kate from the Jon and Kate plus 8 TV show. I don't understand the draw of that one. Get preggers, find out that you're unable to afford all of them, so sell your soul and lifestyle for a TV series where you can be a total bitch to your husband, and still get good ratings from women who NEVER want to be in your shoes.

How about Little People, Big World? What a load of crap. Yay. Dwarves on TV. So what? Yeah, they have to cope. It's not pretty, but it's life.

Maybe next we'll travel around with someone with Cerebral Palsy, and find out how tough it is just to have someone help you take a crap, or do laundry. Or even EAT.

When is this stuff going to stop?

I don't know. But it's pretty pathetic when we as a viewer are more concerned about watching how other people live than being concerned about how WE'RE living.

Get off the couch, and get into life.

Now, I can understand losing some life-time minutes for shows like CSI, and Fringe, or House, or Bones...

Now THAT'S good Television!

See you all next week!!

Personal Viewpoints!

Today I'm going to try to express some of the thoughts and feelings I get, and see if you get these as well.

I never really claimed to be an excellent wordsmith. I know there are folks out there who can take a phrase, and make it completely meaningful to the person reading. I'm not one of them.

I'm just going to try to describe the scene, and the look, and maybe some of my readers will join in with comments, and give their opinions as to scenes and looks that really touch them as well.

OK. Here goes!

Each and every evening when I pull up to the house, I am greeted by the sight of my yellow Labrador named Sassy looking out the glass panes of my french doors for some sign of me. I don't know how she's able to tell what time it is, or how she even knows that I'm headed home, but the excitement she gives off really brightens my day. Her growling welcome and excited yips, the way she wags her tail so hard that her backside nearly knocks her over, the impatient prancing of her paws, and the deep sigh of contentment once she gets a good scratch behind her ears... Unquestioned love and devotion.

The bright look in my daughter's eyes each night as I go to tuck her into bed. We'll talk about the day she's had, and what her plans are for the next day. We'll maybe sing a soft little song, or tease each other about some silly thing we remember. The snuggle deep into her fluffy blankets, and the cuddle of a stuffed teddy bear. The tight squeeze of a hug, and the gentle smack of a kiss goodnight. These are the sights and sounds of safety and security in a scary world.

The happy sounds of my kids at play in the yard. The rumble and thump of clothes tumbing in the washing machine or dryer. The sound of running water in the bathroom. The drone of a TV show. The clink of dishes being washed in the dishwasher. The rustle of grass needing to be cut. These are all sounds of a home being lived in.

The open and waiting arms of my wife to give me a hug when I see her. The soft conversations over how the day went, and what happened. The sweet kisses and gentle squeeze of a happy hand. The shining eyes over some small gift or surprise. The laughter over a joke or funny accident. The contented sigh as we curl up to watch TV on the couch together. The proud beaming as we are complimented on the behavior of our kids. The excitement of a small trip to go play in the snow. The gentle laughter of a game of "Sorry". The cozy warmth of a shared mug of cocoa. These are the times when I feel love the most.

Tell me what gets you. What memories evoke special feeling for you?