I am retired which is, by definition, at least a little bit adrift. This is a good thing and the real reason we retire. After a life of deadlines and commuting, some drifting seems like a pretty good idea. So here I am. Just drifting along with the tumbling tumbleweed … with memories of those great cowboy movies of childhood.
Hi Roy! Hi Trigger! Hey, Bullet! Hope y’all are doing well. I miss you. All of you. You were the good guys. We trusted you. Where are you now, when we need you?
Odd Ball Photos are those great photos that you take which really don’t seem to fit into a common category. We’ve all taken and like them because we just can’t hit delete. If you have any, this challenge is for you.
Oddball: noun a person or thing that is atypical, bizarre, eccentric, or nonconforming; adjective – whimsically free-spirited; eccentric; atypical
How It Works?
This Odd Ball Challenge is not topic-related. Feel free to add any photos or artwork that fits into the category. Be creative and challenge yourself. Hopefully, you’ll find your creative eye will be expanded. ENJOY and have FUN.
The Shinbone Star staff is edging closer to a milestone 800 posts since the inauguration of President Twitterthumbs. But sometimes even we are too appalled to put a new spin on a continuing outrage. Fortunately, Jim Carrey did it for us today.
It’s a daily violation, watching the news. A horror show that won’t go away, the nightmare that rolls into the day.
I’m a woman. I grew up in the world we live in and it was bad, but it was weirdly normal. Do I know any women who were not assaulted, raped, nearly raped, propositioned, abused, or attacked?
The answer is no. If you were out in the world, any and all of these things were part of your daily life. I quit at least two jobs rather than deal with a sleazy, yet dashingly attractive boss. Proving that being good-looking is neither here nor there when you are cornering your assistant for sex. It really isn’t a matter of whether or not you look good.
We don’t take a job so to crawl onto the sofa with a boss guy. Usually, we are looking for a higher rate of pay and maybe a bit of gratitude for the hard work we do.
I can’t work when I’m being harassed. I doubt anyone can. If you have to spend your days wondering if your underpants line is showing and this faux pas will somehow spark another round of “Hey, sexy, let’s …”, you just can’t get your work done.
Favors you get for sex don’t make you feel better. They make you feel like a cheap hooker. Not one of those well-spoken escorts … I mean the hanging around the street corner willing to do it for enough to buy a cup of Starbuck’s overpriced brew.
To find us in a position of hiring one of these disgusting sleazebags as a Supreme Court Justice — after somehow managing to get the revolting Clarence Thomas in all those years ago — leaves me wondering if we have made any social progress at all. Or ever will.
Is this never going to end? Will there never be a time when a woman can openly complain about the men who persecute her at play and work and often, at home … and be believed?
Will this never end?
Every woman I know has at one time or another been violated. For all I know, it’s not just women, either.
Shame on us. Shame on everyone who puts up with “the way things are.” A pox on all who encourage it then gives it a wink and a shrug because “boys will be boys and that slut must have asked for it.”
The first time I heard the word “adultery,” I assumed it meant the sin of growing up. I’m not sure I was entirely wrong. I thought when you got to adulthood, you got your freedom. You didn’t have to take orders from parents, teachers, and every grownup in the world.
It turns out that bosses were less fun than teachers, and everything was ultimately about money. Working for it. Saving it. Using it well. Building a career that would support the life you wanted. Having enough so your family could have a house and nice things.
I rebelled against it, the whole concept … and went off to do my own thing, dragging my son with me. I took a sharp right turn into unexplored territory. And it did indeed give me a great deal of satisfaction, not to mention many experiences that were beyond price. But I still had to work and money was still the bottom line.
Money is the issue unless you have so much you never have to worry about it — an experience I’ve never had. Money doesn’t buy happiness, but having enough will buy physical comfort, peace of mind, and a good chunk of freedom to do as one pleases.
When I was little, I remember hearing my parents talking in soft voices at night behind their closed door. I wondered what exciting things they were discussing. Would I ever have such adult conversations in my life?
Indeed, I had many of those conversations. Because they were talking about money.
How to earn it, how to spend it. What they needed. What they might be able to afford for themselves, for us. That’s the basic issue of adulthood in this world. Maybe it has always been this way.
The freedom I was looking for definitely is part of reaching grownup-ness … but so are a heap of responsibilities I never considered. Having to work when it isn’t fun and not what you want to do plus the worry and insecurity. Also, the lack of awards for doing a great job. And the daily fear of getting fired. And finally, getting fired.
Next time around the wheel, I’ll try to do better. I give myself a solid B minus on this round. Which might be an overly generous assessment.
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