Tag: Facebook


Southern Justice

29
May

It’s no shock that after I responded to whatsherface yesterday about her advocating the executing of fourth graders that I am the person who has been called naive or told she must be living in a bubble. Yep, that’s what I love about this area. I don’t like the idea of killing kids for their crimes so that makes me the whackjob. I’m sure that if I coated my anti-death penalty commentary with comments about how it goes against my strong faith in the Lord Jesus Christ and peppered it with misspellings and grammatical errors that I could gain a bit more respect. Alas, that just isn’t my style. They should just be glad I’m not calling them a bunch of right wing nut jobs with a fucked up sense of morality. That’s what I’ve felt like saying and that, sometimes, is my style. I don’t phrase it that way because WHNT has a history of taking commentary off of its page if it uses obscene language. (This is where I shall lament that, yet again, they continue to leave up commentary that involves a reference to lynching, but will quickly find and delete anything that so much as hints at a four-letter word.)

Oy. Vey.

I wonder if these wonderful God-fearing people realize that, when it came right down to it, Jesus probably wasn’t a very big fan of capital punishment. It was, after all, his cause of death. He was believed to be a big bad and had to pay the ultimate price for that. It’s like the best proof that the death penalty isn’t really that great of an idea. Then again, these are people who believe in celebrating Good Friday, which is basically an anniversary for his death sentence, and in wearing necklaces that have shiny versions of his method of execution (The Cross) on them. Sometimes Christianity can seem truly fucked up. No, wait. Maybe its just Christians who can seem truly fucked up. Jesus himself seemed like an okay dude. (As he wore sandals & preached peace/forgiveness, I feel that the use of the term dude is not sacrilegious. Let’s face it: Jesus was a hippie.)

Anyway, I’m sure that tomorrow there will be people saying that they’re praying for my immortal soul while preying on my naïveté and tendency toward disagreeing with everything that comes out of their mouths. Eh, it doesn’t really bother me. It’s frustrating and annoying on a certain level. It is scary that people like this exist, but it really doesn’t bother me that they do because I’m just so used to this kind of attitude in this area. Have I mentioned lately that I really wish I didn’t live in this part of the country anymore? Because that is pretty much what I’m always feeling.

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Kill The Bad Seed

28
May

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This Evil Piggy Had None

21
April

I made the “mistake” on Friday night of trying to remind people (on the WHNT Facebook page, of course) that the Boston bombing suspect was a person and had certain rights. This led to my being called evil, a supporter of terrorism, an idiot, a confused individual, someone who doesn’t know right from wrong, anti-American, a reason that militias exist, a reason terrorist/hate groups exist, etc. Seriously? What the fuck?

I know that it is unpopular to remind people that someone who did a bad thing is still a person, that he has not been convicted of the crimes he is accused of, and, because he was wounded, that he deserves to have medical treatment. Still, I didn’t expect to be accused of supporting terrorism or being evil or any of that. I don’t know why I didn’t expect it. After all, this is a page where people from North Alabama and Southern Middle Tennessee congregate to share crap, and it is not uncommon for them to say that kind of crap about any person who disagrees with them.

It bugs me that it is anti-American to support a person’s Fourth, Fifth, Sixth, Eighth, and Fourteenth Amendment rights. How can it be anti-American to support something guaranteed by the Constitution? I get that people are pissed off and scared about what happened up in Boston, but we have rights for a reason. Bad guys have just as much right to a fair trial, proper medical treatment, being treated like a human being, etc. as the good guys. If the rights only applied to people who weren’t accused of crimes or doing something against the country, then they probably wouldn’t exist in the first place. Let’s face it, the amendments are there to protect everyone here, not just law-abiding citizens. And any person who wants to restrict these rights is acting hypocritical when they claim that a person advocating for those rights to be protected is being anti-American.

I saw people going on and on about an eye for an eye or how it was okay to judge the suspect, but forgetting that Jesus said to turn the other cheek and that we shouldn’t judge others. When I pointed that out, I was accused of being evil, brainwashed, and anti-God. I’m sorry, but how is it anti-God or evil to argue against their angry posts with teachings that are attributed to Jesus? Isn’t he supposed to be kind of a big deal to Christians? Or is that belief discarded when people get angry?

And there were people who were blaming things like tolerance for terrorism, militias, and hate groups. I’m pretty sure that hate, intolerance, and discrimination are bigger factors in the increase in those things.

I just don’t get the logic of some people. I understand anger, fear, frustration, panic, and sadness. I even understand wanting vengeance. I don’t get why its unacceptable to not want it, though. Why should I have to want this nineteen year old kid dead or in pain or forced to bleed out in order to be considered a good American or an ethical person? Why is it “evil” for me to have compassion for another human being? What is that about?

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You’re Not Welcome Here

26
March

The rude nurse called earlier today. It wasn’t the first time she’s called since that horrible encounter two weeks ago, but it was the first time she called where I could pass the phone off to mom. Mom had told the home health care place that she didn’t want the woman to come again, but they didn’t seem to give her that message. (Of course, Mom also told them that she didn’t want her to come one day and a few hours later, she tried to come anyway.) This time, though, Mom got to tell her that she didn’t want to see her again. So, yay! That’s one  less person that I have to deal with in my life that causes me some level of uncontrollable rage. So I guess that requires a dance of the no-more-rage-inducing-nurse variety.

What else has been going on?

Yesterday’s post about the Pornography Harms Facebook page was apparently popular–at least, according to Jetpack. Around 100 people came here after it was posted. No doubt that some of the people who came were disappointed by the lack of boobage and testicles in the post. Sorry about that, disappointed folks. Technically, I am still engaged in a discussion on there, but I don’t expect anything to come of it, except that I will become more frustrated with them.

I take comfort in knowing that they will be equally frustrated with me. Yes, sometimes I truly enjoy getting into arguments and pissing people off. That doesn’t make me evil. (Though I’m sure someone will claim it does.) It just makes me the daughter of two argumentative parents who happened to come from equally argumentative families. Getting bitchy just runs in the family.

Right now, I’m also in a discussion with people on the Facebook page for WHNT, the local CBS affiliate, about marriage equality. Someone on there actually compared gay marriage to different species mating. Actually, she called them different races of animals. All I could really glean from her comment was that she thought that being gay wasn’t natural, mixed races in anything is bad, and that she doesn’t fully understand how to turn her Caps Lock key off or find punctuation marks.

I was proud of one person on there that told the station off. They’ve repeatedly posted basically the same discussion, and each time it has led to a bunch of people spouting ignorance galore and telling everyone who disagreed that they were going to Hell. They claim that they want us to have actual discussions, but they always seem to end up making things worse. Yes, it would be nice if people in this area could discuss their beliefs about topics without resorting to one group telling the other that they were going to be punished after death, but that’s not going to happen. And, what makes it worse, is that some people on there get scarily angry about these kinds of issues and it worries me that this is going to cause some bad stuff to happen to anyone who doesn’t stick to a typical southern/redneck agenda. (I realize where I live and what people in this area can do to people that they call abominations.)

Other than all the arguing, I’ve mainly just been reading and playing with Amy.

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Sex on the Air

24
March

 

I stumbled upon this Facebook page called Pornography Harms yesterday after a conversation with Angela on Twitter about One Million Moms. I recognized the page because I’d seen it in my recommendations at one point. Someone from YSA had sent all the other YSA folks the link at some point because members of the Mormon church are supposed to be vehemently opposed to any incidences of pornography that may exist. (The definition of porn for some of those folks includes ads for weight loss products, bikinis, tank tops, etc.) I never liked the page, though, because I just thought it was a bit ridiculous.

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Bleep My Bleep

24
January

This post includes some mentioning of suicide and depression. If you’re wanting to hurt yourself or someone else, or you know someone who may be suicidal, please call 1-800-273-8255 (in the US), any number listed here, or contact someone in your area who can help you.

A few weeks ago, my parents signed up for the program through Christmas Charities Year Round to get appliances. The program wouldn’t let them sign up for a dishwasher or a hot water heater, but they were allowed to sign up for a washing machine and oven. On Tuesday, they called and said that a washer had been donated for the program. We were told that we had to come get it by the end of the day Tuesday, which meant we had to secure transportation and help for getting in the house in a little less than five hours.

My former Sunday School teacher’s husband was at home with pneumonia and saw my plea on Facebook for help from anyone in the area who might have a truck. He said my dad could borrow his truck, but he couldn’t provide any help. Well, my dad thought he could do it on his own, so he got the directions to the guy’s house and headed out for our washer.

Dad got up to the charity at around 4:30, which happened to be after the charity’s 4:00 closing time. Luckily, my mom had called up there to tell them that he was coming so there was still someone there. Unfortunately, he couldn’t get the washer because it was locked up somewhere that the other guy couldn’t get to. So the person from the charity said that he would leave a message and make sure that they saved the washer until today so that my dad could come get it.

Dad was able to secure some help to get it today, and he was able to borrow the truck again. So, late this morning/early afternoon, we got a new washer. So far it seems to work pretty well. My mom made some comments about it being noisy, but I pointed out that it isn’t nearly as noisy as the old one, which had become quite the dancing machine late in its life. (Pushing the washer back into its corner or having to hold it in place while doing laundry had become the norm for us.)

The guy who helped today was also able to take an item that we’d found back when the house was being cleaned while it was condemned. It was a Derringer that belonged to Dadada or Mamama one. It had been hidden after one of Dadada’s threats to hurt/kill my mom that had been made toward the end of his life. It was found a day or two after my dad went into the hospital in July, when he had some intent to hurt himself. It sat in the same spot on the table in our kitchen from July until November, when my dad missed his court appearance. When that happened, I started sensing how depressed my dad was (and how the depression was worsening) and I asked my mom if I should hide the gun somewhere so that he couldn’t use it. She said yeah and suggested that I put it in like the bathroom or something. I decided that I needed to put it somewhere that I knew he wouldn’t look, so I stashed it in a drawer under my bed in my room. I didn’t talk to him about the gun until later, because I didn’t want him to ask where it was or start looking for it. Eventually, he said something about this one person (the one who helped today) expressing an interest in it, so we handed it over to him and explained the whole story. He said that even if he couldn’t find a place for it, he would make sure not to bring it back to our house because he knew that it didn’t need to be here.

Oddly, some of my intense anxiety that I’ve had since we moved back in the house disappeared when that gun left my house. I get that some people feel safer with a gun near them, but I’m not like that. I spent 7 of the first 8 years of my life in a pretty high crime neighborhood (gang fights on the street that went by my bedroom) and I felt safer in that neighborhood than I felt at any point in my life (meaning most of the other 20 that have been spent in an extremely safe neighborhood) when I was aware that there was a gun nearby. So, I am grateful that that gun is no longer under my roof. I just wish it had actually left the house years ago when I thought my mom had originally gotten rid of all of Dadada’s weapons.

I know that the gun being gone won’t keep my dad from hurting himself if he ever decides to do that. I know that people who are intent on hurting themselves will find a way, but I’m glad that it’s created more of an obstacle for him. I’m glad that I have one less thing to worry about tonight, instead of one more.

Actually, counting the new washer, I can strike two things off my worry-about-this list.

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No Pity

30
November

My mom and I were talking about my dad’s dad’s family and the last week of Dadada’s life. I didn’t know that they (Dadada’s family) had used up all the money in his bank account in that one week until after Aunt Judy accused my parents and me of perpetrating horrible abuses against Dadada prior to him living in Prattville for that last week of his life. Keep in mind that I was twelve when he died and that we were the people who would actually prepare his foods properly (no salt, no sugar, etc.), give him his medicines, get him to the doctor, get him to the hospital, etc.  Basically, we didn’t abuse him and there was no real way for me specifically to abuse him. She just lived in some la-la world where everyone except for her is a bad person. She’d be a great friend for that other aunt of mine.

Anyway, mom and I discussed how Betty Ann was probably asleep while Dadada was dying and didn’t hear him. When his congestive heart failure would get bad, he would scream and holler and cry out that he was dying and couldn’t breathe. He could get extremely loud, so it is hard for me to imagine that she wouldn’t have heard him. While mom and I discussed this, I realized that I didn’t feel sorry for him. I didn’t feel bad that this man may have had died an excruciating death.

For all my talk of forgiving him, of saying that I’m trying to move past the things he did to me and to my family, I realized that I still have a hell of a lot of anger towards this man. I still see him as this beast that ruined not only my childhood, but my life. I still, at my very core, hate him. And I feel like somehow it makes me a bad person to hate him.

Is it okay to hate someone who abuses you or people you love? Does that make me as bad as them? Aren’t I supposed to realize that there had to be some catalyst that made him like he was, and isn’t that supposed to make me feel some sort of overwhelming compassion towards this man?

Maybe one day I can feel compassion towards him, but I’m starting to think that that will never happen.

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