I Didn't Mean It, Sorta'

I honestly didn't mean to rag on the rich folks yesterday. I don't hate money, or even the people who have it. I hate what it does to people.

I hate the assumption that someone with a "better job" is a better person. There is nothing that annoys me more than the realization that people look up to and are inspired by someone merely because of status.

There is a woman who has made a ton of money based on the fact that she is purty. So, I mean, she's rich and famous, that must equal smart, right? Let's give her a talk show. That way, she can share her brilliance for an hour a day, and the world will be a better place.

Except you know that "model look" that is supposed to be sensuous, with the eyes lidded and the lips slightly parted? Yeah, the one you make as you're staring at your computer screen? That is also a universal body language sign for "too damn dumb to shut my mouth all the way". And models have to perfect that look.

So, they gave her the talk show, and discovered afterward that the expression they once thought was sexy was, in fact, stupidity. Only "they" didn't really discover that -- I did. And when she does talk, she spews absolute nonsense and the idiotic audience just eats it up. Amazing. Maybe she's smart after all...who else gets to make money from being a mouth-breathing lunatic with a microphone? Not me, that's who. I get to do that on my blog for no pay at all.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that I can respect someone who made a lot of money because they were smart, and if they promptly forgot about the money and sat out on the front porch with a cold one. I don't respect the people who got smart because they had money, and then got a job drooling on the guests of their talk show. See? That's all I mean...harmless, really.

As for the money zoo? They must read my blog, because there were no keepers when I tried to take my kids to school this morning, so thank you, money zoo...maybe I was wrong about you.

Rich People and Their Traffic Jams

I have been trying very hard to not hate the money-town in which my children attend school. I mean, just because I'm so very typical doesn't mean that people who are super-typical (Better Than Most) are bad people. I try to remind myself of this a few times a week, and try not to frown at the other moms at school, but I screw it up on occasion.

During my son's fourth grade music program, I sat between two moms whom I immediately judged to be snobs, and had to have a little talk with myself about playing fair. Then, they noticed each other, and one hopped over the aisle to sit by the other and they literally talked through the entire program about how much they only cared about money and status, until someone read me the definition of "literally", and then they talked about Very Important Crap: going to the gym, going to the coffee shop (:::GASP!::: MY coffee shop!!! UGH!), going to lunch, and which corrective surgery to have first. That little list I did not make up.

Anyway, I find myself wondering if I will ever really fit in here, and the answer is no, and the other answer is thank goodness. And the other answer is, guess what? I'm the freakin snob, because I don't want to be their friend at all. I'm a bad bad mommy.

When I was a kid, a new neighborhood went in and it was like a zoo for money. They had a fence all around it to keep all the money in, and a nice golf course so that the money could graze and hit balls, and a little country club so the money could...do whatever you do at those, I guess.

I get to drive by that exact neighborhood twice a day because it's right next door to the kids' school. I'm ok with it. I'm even ok with the fact that I have to slow down in front of it, because the people who live there don't have to obey stop signs and they all bought the insurance against the laws of physics that surround car wrecks. What I am not ok with is their "staff". "Keepers" if you will.

You know how people who have money have a lot of stuff? And then, since they don't really have time for their stuff, they have to spend a bunch of money storing, keeping and updating that stuff? Keepers are the people who maintain the stuff. They tend to drive large vehicles, and guess what? They aren't allowed into the money zoo without passing through the guard at the gate. So every morning as I'm trying to get my kids to school, I have to stop at the money zoo because there is a huge pile of COM VEHs trying to get through the gate so they can mow the lawns, change the oil, clean the gutters, feed the pets, drop off the groceries, nanny the kids, and clean the pools.

And every morning, there is at least one of the people who lives at the zoo who thinks "Hey, I live here and my car doesn't have to follow the rules, so I'm just gonna' turn in and everyone will get out of my way", only there isn't anywhere for anyone to go, so nobody can get out of the way, and the zoo resident's car is blocking both lanes of traffic while he waits for his handlers to get access to the zoo. Poetic justice? Perhaps. Severely annoying to regular people? Absolutely.

So, zoo people, will you please install one of those rude "service entrances" so that your keepers can get in and the rest of us can use the public road that your tax dollars paid for?

Hey There, Judgy Judgerson!

Once upon a time, a long time ago, the King of All the Land decreed that there should be a place for all the people to go and publish every little thought that might cometh into their heads, so his wise men consulted and his princes pondered and the Kingdom finally had a place known as Facebook.

In the Land of Facebook, villagers would come and scribe messages to their friends.  The friends would show these messages to other friends, and soon, the entire kingdom could read every message.

The people of Facebook began to cry out saying that they should be allowed to respond to the messages scribed by their friends, so the King made it so.

Then, the people of Facebook began to think that their power to respond granted them the power of thinking just as well as one of the King's consultants, perhaps even the King himself.  With this new power to respond, and their imagined powers of thought, the people of Facebook began their super-public-pontification-process (SPPP, or "spuh-puh-puh").

After the structuring of the SPPP, the people of Facebook started to notice that they were not getting as many messages scribed from their friends.  When they asked their friends about it, they were blocked from even speaking with them, and found out that they had been put on a blacklist known as "Defriend".  The people cried out yet again.  Why were they being defriended?  Why?

Hearing of this, the King spoke to his people and said, "Many lands are under my rule.  Many people travel on these roads and live together in this kingdom.  The ancient men will tell you that you should never give unasked for advice.  They will tell you that you should never give asked for advice.  And they will certainly tell you that when someone says 'I heart coffee', you do not respond with 'OMG!!!  Caffeine is BAD...you're gonna DIE'.  When someone says 'Can't decide what to wear today', you do not respond with 'GASP! nekkid!  You're going to HELL!'  When someone says 'my, its a beeyootiful day', you do not respond with 'Learn how to spell or we'll throw you in the dungeon with the other village idiots until you rot, and we'll let the rats eat your bones and your family will be sold into SLAVERY!' 

"People of Facebook, if you wouldn't say something in the Land of Church, the Land of PTA Meetings, the Land of Lunch with a Friend, or anywhere else in this kingdom, don't say it in the Land of Facebook!"

At this, the people did what any people in this day and age would do.  They each one thought to himself "Yeah, I'm glad he told them!"