Grab a rock and line up

Wow!

Okay for a lot of the commenters over at www.pooponpeeps.com  the line for your rocks is to the right and then slide on over to the right here to form up for the mob. They’ll be selling souvenirs so don’t forget your pocket money.  And yes, the sarcasm and condescending tone is intended. Make of it what you will.

This post isn’t for one second about whether Crystal killed her dog or experimented on the readers of her blog,  her character or the state of her marriage, her (or anyone’s) right to speak the name of GOD or any of the other things that are being ‘discussed’ over there.

This is about the mob mentality of people.  What I find somewhat bemusing is that not so long ago there was a similar outpouring in which this same blogger was the ‘good guy’ and very similar foul and vile suggestions were being put forth for the ‘lack of personal integrity and character’ of the other party.  I have to wonder if some of those who were so ‘supportive’ in the instance before are the same now using the same off-putting vocabulary and sentiments against her on PoPs.

A goodly number of people feel that it is their “God given right” to sit in judgement. And the distinction has been raised that the real meaning behind the quotations and misquotations is that you should not be so quick to judge UNLESS you are sure you are able to withstand the same judgement from another.

Eh… I’m not going to try and preach here, if my opinions sound that way, that’s unintentional.  I’m not telling anyone else how they should be,  I’m really just expressing my opinions.  People do judge.  Everyone does, every time they meet someone new, are exposed to someone’s actions whatever, their brains make a judgement call on whether they agree, disagree, care or don’t.  A lot of that happens on an instinctual level like some animals do.  What I always thought was the ability to do more than that, to look at the sides of and issue and make an informed decision was what separated us from those animals.

I can’t believe how many people will do or say stuff in a crowd that they wouldn’t condone from anyone else.  MIGHT IS RIGHT seems to be the rallying cry of the day.  People aren’t even reading through each other comments before responding in the ire of the moment.  People are making remarks that are clearly unthought through. At least, I hope they aren’t, cause if after thinking and re reading you still want to say all that stuff… hmm…  Comments like she should OD and she’s this and that and the other kind of horrible and then defending it all with their own anecdotal stories of just how wonderful they are for saving this or that animal or doing this or that good deed.  I have no doubt they did those things. But why wear them like some sort of badge of courage on their sleeve?  Isn’t doing good about doing good not the accolades one receives for them?

Now before someone thinks I’m condoning Crystal’s actions, or defending them or anything of the sort. I’m not. I’m asking how you can let someone else’s actions reduce you to yours?  I’ve gotten all hot and bothered about things that outraged me.  Some of them are things that no one else even seemed to give a passing glance at.  I’ve ranted and raved. I’ve suggested in no uncertain terms that the ‘person’ in question is a waste of skin and breath and that being capable of what they are accused (and in some instances found guilty of) is a good reason for the death penalty.  And I believe that.  I believe that a youth who is capable of raping another youth with a foreign object is pretty much done. There’s no reason to keep that person alive and yes…I’d push the button, pull the lever, you name it.

That said… would I fight tooth and nail to keep my son out of jail if he were accused of such a thing? You’re damned right I would.  Therein lies the rub.  A crime, horrendous, horrible, inconceivable to most is committed, thought about, written about in an experiment, or hallucinated is a crime and it’s up to the LAW not the MOBS to extract justice. No matter how many signs they wield, no matter how many rallies they hold, no matter how many pamphlets they pass out. No matter what they think, unless they are actually chosen for jury duty, they do not get to decide guilt from innocence, nor interpret or enforce the law.  Opinions they may have.  Should they express them like rabid dogs frothing at the mouth, well I pretty much stop listening at that point.

I rather doubt that the mob is done with Crystal. I think there are some very self righteous people who will haunt her, follow her, attack her. Because they are RIGHT you see. Not really though, cause that sort of harassment is illegal but it’ll be RIGHTEOUS cause one day, she wrote on her blog, that she killed a dog.  Maybe…

…. but Right is Might.

After all.

-DA

As heard on the radio.

The other day whilst driving, I heard this essay on guns read aloud as a filler, when a scheduled guest didn’t show.

It started out sounding a bit simplistic at first and then became a lot profound before diving right back to oversimplifying the situation and as some of the commentors on the blog have noted, it’s not really as true as it should be.

Yet, as someone who has been around guns/rifles as a child and learned to view them as a tool not a toy and as someone who had little use for the tool in most of my adult life I had reached a point where I didn’t really believe that guns were as necessary to as many people as public outcry had made it appear.

That all changed one early morning in the middle of Alberta, where I had the dubious fortune to become the first person robbed at gunpoint in 99.5 years. Staring into the muzzle of a gun, even a little colt .25 is something I would gladly have missed as an experience in my life.

Watching the tape later (big mistake) I found myself stepping outside the experience but that’s another post.

In terms of the essay I don’t know how having a gun could have helped me. The robber walked in after a series of customers left and stiff armed the gun up at me (in fact he went into a stance I’ve seen enthusiasts adopt at the range). He crossed the room to me and showed me the gun before pressing it to my temple and using his other hand to steer me where he wished me to go. I was away from the counter so unless I was actually wearing the gun as a side arm it wouldn’t have helped me. I doubt that I would have been able to reach under the counter for it after he escorted me back to the till, as every move I made was under the eye of the gun.

On the other hand, had there been a sign on the door, “Employees Armed” with small print that said. “All employees are trained in the use of firearms.” It might well have worked.

I’m not taking the high road here, I’m extrapolating on what sort of a deterent a gun would have been without the ability of the robber knowing that I had one as well.

I can certainly see where the author is going, arming everyone equalizes the playing field to no end. It’s just how do we get the word out that we are armed? And wasn’t that how things once were? And didn’t the ‘enlightened’ minds of the age change it so it wasn’t that way? What’s to stop that from happening again.

I don’t know that we need stiffer gun laws, I do know that those who will obey such laws will continue to do so and those who already do not won’t give a flying pancake of doodoo that the laws are changed. Any time we do so, change a law to make it more difficult or controlled to have something, be it a car, a cat, dog or gun; we run into the same old cliched response. Law abiding citizens will grouse and mutter and sign up, pay up or curtail an activity because of the law and those that the law is purportedly is geared against will continue to do as they please and thumb their noses at the lawmakers, probably having a good old laugh about the saps that will no longer be able to protect themselves against them in the case of gun ownership.

Give everyone a gun? Not really a solution as I see it.

Harsher laws? Definitely not a solution unless we’re talking about the death penalty and are actually willing to follow through.

I’m at a loss. What say you?

I’m usually the nice one.

I made a woman cry today.  I ordered coffee at a local coffeeshop.  And she cried.

Well, okay, maybe it wasn’t really that simple, let me back up a little.

I’ve been having mini meltdowns at work for about two weeks now.  Personal stuff being topped by work overload along with a self esteem issue tinged by depression has left me feeling and acting rather raw.

The sudden and tragic (but you know aren’t they all so?) death of a dear friend’s significant other, who also is someone I count as a friend pretty much sent me over the waterfall from blubbering mess to stoic numb person.

I went to the shop to pick up iced chai lattes for a friend and her coworker because I do that pretty much whenever I visit them.  And since they put up with my blubbering and opinions, it’s a win-win situation.

I was second in line.  The lady before me and the woman behind the counter were talking in such a way that it was apparent they knew each other well.  The lady ordering placed her order, and the woman punched it in and then they had a conversation about grasses.  The lady ordering was selling the woman behind the counter ornamental grasses and they proceeded to discuss the virtues of short grasses vs tall grasses.  I took out my cell phone and toggled the time (remember watches?) They continued talking.  I really didn’t know that the search for the perfect ornamental grass was so involved.  Again I took out my cell phone and toggled the time.  Five minutes had passed.  I must have looked exasperated, because the woman behind the counter apologized. I said, hey, if I could just place my order it would be fine, they could go on with their conversation.  Really I meant that, it would be okay with me.   Another person was making up the drinks.

And so the path towards me making her cry was set.  I complicated matters by using the little buy X get 1 free punch cards.  My friends and I keep cards going there and occasionally I cash them in.  I slid them across the counter as she punched things into the cash register.  She eyed them as though they were a snake. “Oh,” she said, “you’re using those.”  I blinked. Well yeah, I had planned to do.

The co-worker drinks hers a little differently than my friend and I do.  For one she gets an iced cafe latte rather than a chai masquerading as a slurpee.  She also gets an extra shot of expresso in it.  But she always orders is as an ‘iced coffee with a double shot’.  Therein lies the problem.  According to the coffee expert I spoke with afterwards, a ‘double shot’ is not a literal doubling of the amount of shots, but simply 1 extra shot.   Not the “well we normally put 4 in so 8 and I’ll have to charge for each one extra” solution that she seemed determined to ring in.

I said, wow that’s a lot of coffee.  And around and around we went.  After a time I got fed up, (wasn’t that long, pretty much started at the 5 minute wait time) and said, look just make it the normal way you would and I’ll find out how she orders it.

That’s when it happened. The tears started to fall and she went into the deer in the headlight stance I’ve found myself in far too many times of late.  Her fingers started to shake on the till keys and she blinked at me and then said, “I can’t remember your order.” I repeated it. I would like to add, I did not do so in a nasty way, nor a condescending way. I simply, repeated it.

I also pointed out that she had already punched the card for the one I would be paying for, but she insisted on punching it again.  Okay I thought.   I’m sorry she’s that upset, well not sorry exactly, as I don’t think I did anything I need to apologize for but I do empathizise with that sense of paralysis.

I paid and the order was processed. The other woman sent her off outside to calm down.  She came around the corner and bumped into me heavily.  Okay, I thought.  She can’t see where she’s going, cause she’s crying. Maybe she wears contacts and they are swimming in her tears and I shrugged it off.  She did say excuse me when she bumped into me.

Then as my order was being filled and I reached for them, she did it again coming in.  Bumped right into me as she bustled past to get back behind the counter.  No, I didn’t spill my drinks but I no longer felt any sympathy for her.

Once is an accident.  Twice is deliberate.

“Bump into me like that again,” I said, “and I’ll beat you with a stick.”  I said it quietly but she heard me. She blinked, I smiled and walked out with my chai, thai and cafelatte.

I wonder what will happen the next time I go in to get coffees for the group.

QUESTION OF THE MOMENT:  Who makes up these names anyway and why am I stupid for not knowing the ingredients of each and every variation?