Happy Ass Adoptive Parents (you knew it was coming)

I am so sick of hearing a bunch of happy ass adoptive parents talking about how they can heal anything with their magic love.  Hey, fuck you, alright.  All the goddamn hugs in the world aren’t going to make a shit bit difference sometimes.

You are not the second coming of June pissing Cleaver.  You will not make adoption okay within a half an hour with you magic chocolate chip cookies.  Got it?  It’s pretty fucking complicated.  Because your one year old diaper rat is smiling now, that don’t mean they are going to be in about 12 years.

You are on the first shift of the paving crew to hell if you believe you really know one goddamn more thing than any parent that came before you.   You don’t know dick.  Okay?  Nobody does, you are in the dark just like everybody else. Just keep up your happy-ass conversation with each other, keep assuring each other you know your child better than anybody else.  Because guess what?  You don’t.  This may come as a big fucking surprise, your kid may have the first clue as to what they are feeling.  Yeah, imagine that, if you’re capable.

You might as well be serving the pages out of your fucking parenting books with a side of ranch dressing for all the good you got out of them.   What did your skip the “scary” parts because that could never happen with you at the parenting helm?  Huh?  Guess what fucko?  Those scary parts are all about people like you.  Turn on every light in the house, grab your fucking teddy bear and get to studying.  You can get on the internet and bitch about how negative some experts are in the morning if it makes you feel better.  I have a feeling you’ll find the support that you so need.

But for fuck’s sake, do not get on there and discount my memories, or anyone else’s that claim to wish to learn from.  I do so wish there was a special are you dimfucks could be sent to until you are ready for mainstreaming.  I think it would do you worlds of good to review a few key concepts before you have a try at the big kid’s class again.

Non-adoption related rant.

Exactly how stupid can people be?

I am constantly fucking amazed at the level of just plain dumbness one person can posses.  I run a grocery store, we ran out of grapes yesterday.  I told my checkers that we were out of grapes yesterday.  I told one of my checkers we were out of grapes AGAIN not an hour ago.  She just called on the PA system and asked me to bring a bag of grapes to the front.

I had to walk all the way to the front to tell this moron that we were still out of grapes.

Does she think I’m running a vineyard in the backroom of the store?

Does she think that I have a red phone under a cake dish on my desk connected to the California Grape Growers Association for these kinds of emergencies?

Does she think I have a spotlight back here that shines the Grape Signal to the California Grape Growers Association?

Is she under the belief that I’m just like Batman, but with grapes?

Does she think that I’m living a double life as both a grocer and some type of grape procuring super hero?

I wonder who my sidekick is suppose to be?  The potato chip delivery guy?

Is she convinced that I have a tricked out 1965 Bonneville hidden  the  store called the Grapemobile?  Is it green, red, or black?  Possibly a combination of these colors?  Is it seedless?

Oh, fuck me.

Liar, Liar

Somebody lied to me.  This time it wasn’t for my own good.  They didn’t lie to me directly, they did it in the most underhanded way, they convinced some one else that they were telling me the truth.  That is the greatest deception of all.

The person that told me these things believed what she told me.  Why shouldn’t she? The person who told her these things should have been working in her best interest, she was even paid to do so.  It was a classic con.  The liar had something this woman wanted more than anything, she took her into her confidence.  She said that she was revealing more than she really should, she didn’t tell most people this much.  The things she told her were plausible, the fact that they weren’t pleasant made them that much more believable.

It was a great story, it had a beginning, middle, and end.   Each character was painted fully enough that the listener could, if not understand, at least accept, their motivations.  Every plot point fit well within the time and atmosphere of the story.  There was conflict and a resolution of sorts.   It was a good lie.

The thing is, good lies only work once.  Any confidence man will tell you once you’ve bled your mark, it’s time to get out of town.  Sure, you can run the same con again, you just have to be sure that your marks will never met.  Our liar didn’t take into account how small a town we all live in now.

I’m not sure what disgusts me more, the fact that this woman told such a cruel lie, or the fact she didn’t care enough to make up a new lie for each of her marks.   The very thought that she could let people come to her needing the truth more than anything, tell them she had it, and then decide which lie to use makes me ill.

How many stories did she have? 2? 3? 8?  Were there stories for men, women?  Did how they looked looked or the tone of their voice influence which story they would get?  Did she save special stories for ones she favored or especially disliked?

I’d like to ask the liar.

I’ve sought truth on the behalf of others.  I’ve been successful, and I’ve failed, but I’ve never lied.  I couldn’t betray a trust like that.

I just don’t understand.

Do Not Remove By Threat Of Law

Consumer protection agencies are involved in most facets of our lives these days. I wonder if adoptees should come with warning labels. Considering that we have become a product for public consumption, it might be in the best interest.

There could be label for those adopted at birth, specifying that there was no testing done on this particular model and no guarantees are offered or implied. One for children from foster care that specifies that some testing had been done, there is a guarantee, but consumer rights vary from state to state. Country of origin labeling would also be useful.

With the use of labeling consumers could not say that they were not warned. Use and care labels would also be helpful:

Hand Wash-Warm Water

Towel Dry

Feed FDA Approved Foods Only

Do Not Expose To Temperature Extremes Without Proper Protection

And of course, a warning label:

Your new adoptee is a self learning product, if not carefully cared for your adoptee can develop a mind of it’s own. To avoid this expose only to proper thinking. If you should develop problems with your adoptee, reprogramming is recommended. Consult your Yellow Pages for the nearest service center.


Jesus, Take The Wheel

I don’t care if it rains or freezes,

as long as I have my plastic Jesus

In other parts of the interents there has been some discussion on where the money that perspective adoptive parents pay agencies goes. Monies spent on advertising was a particular point of discussion, the sums spent by Bethany more specifically. Bethany is a part of Catholic Charities and I assumed their access to resources was vast, I did some research and was correct. The sheer amount of dollars involved mad me wonder where all the revenue came from, it was more than that from the admittedly large sums paid by perspective adoptive parents could ever account for. I did some more digging and this is what I found.

Bethany does get monies from the Catholic Church that had made up for much of their revenue until recently. It seems with the death of John Paul 11, and his charisma along with him, donations are down. Pope Benedict XVI with his German sensibility about money has come up with a novel solution to revenue problems, not just for Bethany, but all Catholic Charities, Vale Added Production Based Fund-raising.

Bethany being at the cutting edge of social services and having a good ear on the street has come up with a novel solution of their own that showcases Benedict’s vision for the future of raising revenue for good works. Plastic dashboard Jesus farming.

Bethany’s program encompasses all facets of their charitable foundation. From the orphans in Guatemala who literally plant the seeds of faith in the plowed up fields that once were their playgrounds to the recipients of good works who seek to pay back those that helped them with their stands at flea markets. Bethany employees at the many US offices even get into the act, setting up and selling from cardboard display stands that they designed themselves.

The Home Grown Plastic Jesus program seeks to offer the highest quality protection from vehicular mishaps to the faithful. Agronomist from top universities were called upon to develop a hardy fast growing hybrid Saviour statuette, that compromised nothing in holy protection. Different strains were developed and tested, the little Sons of God had to be tolerant of conditions and soils in some of the poorest countries on Earth. Not only did this mark a great advance in effigy agriculture, but a hands up to the communities that would grow them. “It was all worth it when I saw the look on the kids faces at the orphanage when the Jesus’ began to sprout.” said one researcher who had worked on the project.

Marketing efforts are now underway in Western Europe and the United States. One Akron, Ohio gas station owner is quoted as saying, “I can’t keep the little fellows in my store, everybody wants one.” The Home Grown Jesus will be available in many gift catalogs next year.

It seems that the future of faith based fund raising has come into the 21st century.

The Audacity of Grief

I’m not sure I can afford the audacity of grief. Anger is cheaper.

Grief is big and elaborate, it requires much investment, and tending of that investment. It’s like a 401K with separate accounts. Some must be invest conservatively in order to have enough to get you through the rest of your years. By the time you reach the middle of life, you know you will have much use for grief. Sometime you stopped having to be fitted for bridesmaid dresses and found yourself in need of sober suits. They don’t come cheap, and you start asking yourself if you need more wardrobe options to wear to grieving occasions. You don’t know how long this will go on, and if you’ll even stay the same size.

Some of your grief must also be invested in higher yield riskier instruments, you need to make this pay while you can. You’re got to build it up fast in order to have enough to let it take care of itself when you just don’t have the strength to work at it anymore. It is more likely that you will become disabled, than die young. Also, the bigger the grief nest egg, the more comfortably you’ll be able to do it. If you get lucky you might even be able to spend you grieving twilight years somewhere warm and sunny. You could also need constant care in your grieving, you want to be able to do it somewhere nice, with scheduled activities, good food, and a caring staff. You don’t want to end up grieving on the welfare state.

You could even invest in commodities. Speculating on grief contracts. Will greif demand be higher next hurricane season in the south? Will grief come in short supply due to a lighter than usual civl unrest season in South America or Africa? Should you bet on it? It’s risky, but the rewards can be high.

I can’t even afford to buy into this right now. I have my grief contribution at it’s lowest level. I’m not even taking full advantage from my full vestment by order of being an adoptee. I need ready cash reserves for anger.

Anger is cheap and I can buy it anywhere. In fact, I can get it wholesale. There is something to be said for buying anger on the open market, it drives the world. It get things done. It even feels good. Sure, it’s addictive, but it fuels the fire.

And I can quit any time I want.