And the honorary Heartless Bitch of the week award goes to….

September 29, 2008 | Filed Under Politics, The Heartless Bitch Way | 1 Comment

… Heather Malik, for her heartlessly scathing article on Sarah Palin, and her refusal to apologize for her opinion piece originally published and then yanked by the CBC. Other (male) journalists have said as much or worse, and not gotten the same backlash. Yes, it was hyperbolic. Yes, some of it was over the top, but much of it was dead on the money as far as I am concerned, and the CBC editors are a bunch of spineless wimps. A huge heartless raspberry to the CBC for apologizing for, and pulling the piece.  It was *opinion*. So much for free speech.Â

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The foolish things we do for fun…

September 29, 2008 | Filed Under Work, Lifestyles of the Heartlessly Bitchy, Random Silliness | 1 Comment

Our CEO has this philosophy of encouraging people to stretch their limits - to try things they have never done before.  So when our corporate “fun day” options came up, I chose paintball over the other 4 activities offered.  Though I love laserquest, I’d never gone paintballing before because I bruise really easily, I’m just not into sharp nasty pain, and I’ve heard it really HURTS.  But my whole team was going, so I figured I’d face my fear of paintball head-on (so to speak) - and in the end  that’s where I took most of my killshots - in the facemask.

The night before, I asked the youngest spawn what I should do to prepare since both he and his older brother were avid paintballers in their teens.  He looked at me and said, “Do you have a winter vest?”
I replied “Yeah. Well, it’s kind of a fall vest…”
“And do you have a neckwarmer of some kind?”
I said, “Yep.”
“And gloves?”
“I have some old leather ones I can sacrifice.”
He looked at me gravely, “Good. Wear all that, and then pick out the baggiest set of coveralls there - because you’re gonna need them  - you bruise like a PEACH mom.”

Graphically descriptive, but very true.

I wore the vest, the neck protection, knee-high cross-country ski socks, jeans, the most padded bra I could find, my “batten-down-the-hatches” tank top from kick-boxing, and a long-sleeved jeans shirt. I took cheapo fall leather gloves, and then picked out that baggy set of coveralls.  They provide you with a mask and goggles, but in future, I’ll bring my own goggles - the ones there were scratched and terrible. I could hardly see a thing, fogging up aside.

They said I looked like the Michelin Man, and I suffered innumerable taunts, but I didn’t care. It was worth it to leave with my body relatively bruise-free.

I didn’t feel a single shot except one on my hand that didn’t break (thank god for the gloves - I can’t imagine how much it would have hurt if my hands were bare) and one that somehow came through the mask and left me with a mouthful of paint and a bit of a red mark above my lip that lasted a day.  I thank my lucky stars, considering that one guy left the field with 35 welts on his body.  One had a huge lump on the top of his head.  Except for the real hard-core paintballers, almost everyone else had multiple battle bruises.

The thing IS, it didn’t feel like the same adrenaline rush you get with LaserQuest (which I love) - my heart wasn’t pounding at the end of each game, and I wasn’t breathless.  You don’t do nearly as much running around - it’s mostly crouching, hiding and scurrying from cover to cover. But I felt kinda shaky after the 5th game and was glad it was over and lunch had arrived. 

That being said, it’s now brutally clear that the adrenaline WAS flowing and really masks a world ‘o hurt.  The next morning I was in AGONY.  I had two bruises on my thighs that spontaneously appeared, (I don’t recall being shot in the legs), and every fucking muscle in my body was screaming. I thought my shoulders were going to seize. I had to use my arms to lower myself down onto the toilet because my quads were too weak and shaky.  Going down stairs was torture.  The bf thought it was hilarious. He giggled at my every whimper, the bastard.

All I can say is, thank god I have a hot tub.

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Brilliant…

September 19, 2008 | Filed Under Politics, The Heartless Bitch Way | 3 Comments

 

SNL’s spoof on Sarah Palin and Hillary Clinton:

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2008/09/13/tina-fey-as-sarah-palin-o_n_126249.html

“In conclusion, I invite the media to all grow a pair. And if you can’t, I will lend you mine.”

God help us all if the Republicans get elected again. And I’m not even American.  Look at what your economy is doing at the hands of the Republicans.  Do you REALLY want to re-elect these assholes?

I mean, I’d love to see more women in politics, but not there simply because they have a vagina or look good in front of the media.  Palin’s politics and beliefs scare me, as does her vapidness. She is against abortion, even in cases of incest and rape. She thinks “abstinence” should be the only thing taught in schools. Oh, well THAT kind of teaching really helped her OWN child, right?  Too bad the kid didn’t learn about important things like BIRTH CONTROL, since the whole abstinence thing clearly didn’t “take”. 

Personally, I couldn’t give a shit about what goes on in the woman’s personal life or family except for the fucking hypocrisy of it all. (And for a great look at that hypocrisy exposed, check out this episode of The Daily Show) 

I’d love to see a woman in the White House, unfortunately, this one is an embarrassment to us all.

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Human Waste

September 17, 2008 | Filed Under The Heartless Bitch Way, Lifestyles of the Heartlessly Bitchy | 1 Comment

Every day that I head into work I see human carnage in the form of drug addicts, alcoholics, and the mentally ill that our government saw fit to dump on the street years ago, when they cut back funding for institutions and treatment centers.

Within a 6 block radius in “The Byward Market”, there are 4 “Shelters” or Missions.  While you might think this is helpful, in reality all it does is congregate all the damaged, fucked-up, addicted and mentally ill people in one area so the drug dealers have easy access to a steady market.

Every morning when I come into work, I see them openly dealing crack, heroin and all manner of other drugs on the sidewalks and in the parking lots, with no attempt to hide what they are doing. Every evening when I leave, the drug dealers and the addicted are there.  There is a walkway between Rideau and York Streets called the “Waller Mall”. Everyone here calls it “Crack Alley”.  It’s generally littered with passed out or nearly passed out individuals high on one thing or another.  It’s so dangerous at night that they close it at 11pm with gates.   One of my employees was assaulted there at 5:30 in the evening by some nutbar who just started screaming. “You killed my family!” over and over again. In the last 3 months there have been 2 stabbings nearby. In fact, on my way to lunch a couple of weeks ago, a co-worker and I were commenting on how deplorable the area has become, and he pointed out that the dark spatters on the sidewalk were bloodstains from the stabbing that occurred 2 days before. It happened behind our office parking lot one evening, undoubtedly over a drug deal gone bad.  They run sidewalk cleaners nearly every day past the ice-cream stand one block away. You’d think the fucking city could CLEAN up the BLOOD all over this part of the sidewalk.

One morning at 8:30, another one of my staff was threatened by a strung-out hooker who told him she’d stab him with an HIV-infected needle if he didn’t give her a dollar. He told her to fuck off.

Another employee was approached by a woman who was so wasted that she was offering *anything* he wanted for $10. It’s sickening.

You have to be damn heartless to survive working in this area.  I have heard every pitch and near-pitch and excuse imaginable.  Money for the bus to get to the train station? Well buddy, if you can’t afford the bus, how can you afford a train ticket?  Money for coffee? Get some at the mission next door.  Money for lunch? Pick any one of the shelters or go to the sandwich wagon that comes around every day. 

We live in a society that has welfare, free medical care, and free dental if you are on welfare.  If you have been out of work for an extended period of time, the government will pay for your retraining. While I think our welfare system could do even more to help low-income families, there is no financial excuse to be begging on the street.    I don’t give money to people begging.  I’m even more heartless if they are sporting numerous tattoos and piercings  - those things cost hundreds of dollars, I’m not in the business of funding someone’s body modification fetish.  If you can afford a tattoo and you are hungry then maybe you need to reassess your priorities.  If they are strung out, slurring, and staggering, I know any money I give them will go to booze or drugs and I will not contribute to feeding someone’s habit.  There are shelters and numerous aid agencies in the vicinity - they offer food, and a place to sleep.  In fact, numerous information posters in the area discourage giving panhandlers money.

It’s gotten to the point now where I don’t even wait for the pitch. I just say NO, firmly, and keep walking. I keep my distance.  You don’t let them get close - that’s how you get assaulted. Sometimes they scream at you and follow you.  You keep your pace, square your shoulders, and keep going forward without engaging.  You have to pay close attention to your personal safety and everything going on around you.  And after 6pm, you don’t walk with your headphones on and music playing.  You can’t hear someone coming up behind you if your music is playing.  One guy I know was doing just that (listening to his ipod) after leaving a club around midnight and a bunch of guys came up from behind and clobbered him in the back of the head with a 2-by-4.  He’s lucky he’s alive. 

And where are the cops in all of this?  I seldom see them anywhere that would matter. In over a year, I’ve never seen an arrest or drug bust. I’ve seen almost NO presence where all the dealing is taking place.  Crack is sold and smoked out in the open.  It’s like a free ride for the drug dealers.   Oh, I often see the cop cars out FRONT of my building, a block away, positioned so they can gab to each other without leaving the confines of their cars,  but I can count on ONE hand the number of times I have seen a cop in any of the real trouble spots in the last year.  It’s appalling and ultimately frustrating. 

Could they not at least go after the crack and heroin DEALERS? Could they not maintain a presence in the areas that are desperately degrading every day?  Put some cops there to dissuade the dealers, and perhaps put some trained counsellors in the area to start working with people and trying to get the salvageable ones in to treatment?

This is a high-traffic tourist area, believe it or not. This is our nation’s capital, and it’s turning into a cesspool.

Residents tell me that crime and break-ins in the area are becoming intolerable.

I look at the ravaged remnants of humanity as I head into work and I feel conflicted.  Yeah, most have mental illnesses, and some perhaps were abused, born drug-addicted, born with fetal-alcohol syndrome, or are the product of a shitty home life.  I should feel sympathy, but mostly I just feel sad and disheartened that these people are destroying this amazing thing called a LIFE that they were blessed with.  I’m not religious, but I think we owe it to ourselves to make the best of the life we are given.  Life can be AMAZING or it can be hell. It’s really what you make it, and these people seem to have chosen hell.  How do you have compassion for someone bent on destroying themselves in slow deliberate steps?   I look at them and sigh, and think, “what a waste.” 

I wonder, would it be better if they were all rounded up and put in treatment centers so they can be given the chance to dry out and get their shit together, since they seem mentally incapable of taking proper care of themselves?  But then, who decides who to commit? At what point does the state go from being a responsible caretaker to a fascist dictatorship?  Where is that line, and could we trust our law enforcement (who can’t even be bothered to SHOW UP today) to make that decision? Or our politicians?  (Shudder)   I have flashes of “A Scanner Darkly“, and worry that it might be one of our possible futures if things continue to spiral out of control. 

Could we put more time, money and effort into earlier interventions, so that people have more opportunities to make good choices?  But then where does personal freedom come into play?  What of the (few) people who choose to live the homeless lifestyle?

The price of freedom and personal responsibility is a heavy one.  And we ALL pay the price for other people fucking it up.  If they get drug or alcohol addicted, they injure themselves or others and we pay through our medical system. We pay through increased law enforcement costs. We pay when crime and property theft/damage increase.  But more importantly, our peace of mind and sense of safety is destroyed and that is something you can’t put a price tag on. And the less money we put into treatment options and early intervention with “at risk” youth, the more we pay in the long term. Unfortunately with our “me first” conservative government, they’d rather deal with building more jails and talking about “getting tough” on criminals, than on preventing this kind of stuff in the first place. It benefits a conservative government to not deal with the root causes and instead focus on the aftermath, because a populace that is scared and on edge is easier to manipulate.   But I’m not paranoid.

If we opened more free treatment centers, would these people take advantage of it? Perhaps, but there is a significant percentage who are so far gone that I doubt they will ever make it back to any semblance of  “responsible adult”.  What of them?  What is our responsibility to them? 

There are no easy answers and far too many difficult questions.

Â

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Being a “parent” again…

September 16, 2008 | Filed Under Parenting, Lifestyles of the Heartlessly Bitchy | No Comments

This past week, I had not only my two adult male children here (plus one girlfriend), but also my 17-year-old nephew on a 4-day stopover (on his way back from Russia, and on to Toronto before heading home).  Add to that mix 2 cats, a roommate and a boyfriend, and it was a FULL house.

The dishwasher went through at least 2 times a day - when I got on the young males’ case to load/unload it. (I’m seriously thinking of adopting my eldest’s girlfriend. She’s smart, funny, slightly evil, and does household chores like cleaning up after herself without being asked.)

And even though the two of them are 20 and 21, I had to go into the bedroom one night at 12:30, kick two of the boys out (the youngest and the nephew were playing computer games on the oldest’s computer) and remind my oldest and his gf that SHE had to work the next day, and HE had school. Really. I think kids DO regress when they move back home.

But as much as I rag on them, I DO enjoy having my spawn around again. It’s been 10 years since I had both of them living with me, however, and it’s taking some getting used to.  I’m not a neat-freak by any stretch, but these guys cause me to hit my “critical mass of mess” orders of magnitude faster than on my own, and that critical mass usually results in a sentence starting with, “Ok.Get your asses in here….”.

And then there is the “interaction” between the two of them - they haven’t lived together in the same house for 4 years.  And it’s like nothing ever changed.

Tonight, the youngest was sound asleep on the couch, snoring, when his brother came in, noticed him there, and decided to “hug” him.  The kind of hug that isn’t borne out of affection, but deliberately meant to annoy. The kind of hug you see 12 and 13-year-olds  giving each other to piss each other off. I’m here to attest to the fact that the effect is the same when they are in their 20’s. “**** What the fuck!? Piss off!” was the younger spawn’s response. The oldest of course protested that he was just trying to show his brother AFFECTION!  The bf found it terribly amusing. Apparently HE never had that in his repertoire of tricks for bugging his younger brother.

And then there is the sense of humor. The two of them play off each other -they riff each other’s personal lives and TV shows, and joke about turning the cat into a submissive masochist (that’s ANOTHER story). And the oldest does accents. Mostly Scottish, sometimes British or  Australian, but tonight he was cracking us up by suggesting that Keanu Reeve’s poorly delivered lines in the movie “Constantine” would be MUCH better if delivered by Sean Connery, and then repeating those lines in a perfect Sean Connery accent. We all cracked up.

My house is a disaster. We go through 6 litres of milk a week, I’m thinking of taking out shares in Costco, and I’m trying not to lose my sanity with the mess that accumulates. But on the whole, it’s good to have them back. Even if they are adding grey hairs to my head, the laughter that comes with them is worth it.

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Guys and “Dolls”? Eeeeewwwww

August 19, 2008 | Filed Under The Heartless Bitch Way | 6 Comments

So my son’s GF sent me this link to a supposedly REAL documentary on guys and their REAL DOLLS ™.

I watched with morbid fascination. Kind of like watching a train wreck.

I was aghast. “Are you sure this is a REAL documentary?”

“Well it’s by the BBC. I’m fairly certain it’s real.”

“Yeah, but the BBC brought us that documentary on Spaghetti trees.”

That being said, this appears to be a real documentary and not a spoof - despite all appearances to the contrary. 

I mean, we saw (and riffed on the Bitchboard) these “creations” when they came out over 10 years ago. Back then I remember they were over $5K!  I can’t imagine how much they are NOW.

This documentary follows men who own real dolls, a Real Doll creator, and a Real Doll “Repair” guy…. I know what you are thinking about that last one - or at least, you SHOULD be thinking… EEEEEWWWW! The worst was when he was pulling apart a vagina, WITHOUT GLOVES ON, describing how “violent” sex is, really. Well apparently it is (violent) for doll owners.

What creeped me out the most wasn’t so much that these guys TALK to their dolls, or have sex with their dolls, or take them for drives in their cars, or change their faces so they can pretend the doll is SLEEPING after sex…  It wasn’t even that they use these dolls to totally AVOID dealing with and working on their own social interaction problems. What creeps me out is how they HANG the dolls by a loop in the back of the neck to change, make up and otherwise work with the doll. It’s beyond CREEPY. It’s like something a serial killer would do with a victim. 

And sick as it is, the computer geek in me couldn’t help thinking critically about the technology - you’d think in over 10 years it would have progressed. I mean, sure the dolls are around 100 pounds and have teeth and tongues (and vaginas), and have realistic joints in their bodies, but what about it making sounds instead of just laying there, deaf, dumb and blind and looking catatonic? Are all their “clients” necrophiliacs?  What about some kind of semi-autonomic movement? When I was a child, I had a doll (the only one I liked - is it any surprise that I HATED most dolls?) that would open and close it’s eyes at the flip of a magnetic wand. That was over FOURTY YEARS AGO. Surely someone could come up with technology similar to that on real dolls so that the owner didn’t have to PULL OFF THE FACE and put another one on, just so he could pretend she was SLEEPING? Surely the eyes could move and follow a person in the room (we have $100 webcams that can do that).  Surely, for a premium price they could add a LITTLE more interaction? 

 OK. I’m creeping myself out now.

Honestly,  one guy - the 39 -yr-old from Virginia, who showed off his collection of guns as well as his DOLLS, made me think - maybe his dolls are stopping him from going and taking those guns and using them on a MacDonald’s full of people. He says the reason he can’t get a real woman like that is his complexion and his teeth - but for the amount of money he spent on dolls, he could have that easily fixed.  Truth IS, the reason a guy can’t have a relationship with a woman is his PERSONALITY, and fixing the problems with THAT takes work real work. It takes more work than most men are willing to put in. 

The 50-something guy from England was just sad. He’d never had a girlfriend, lived with his mother until she died, and made some comments  indicating that people just REACTED TO HIM strangely.  He could be surrounded by attractive women but they didn’t respond positively to him.  He even based his self-worth on the fact that he flies a hang glider, imagining himself as some kind of superhero (his word), but lamented that women just want the guy with the pint in the pub. (Sounds like our classic “Nice Guy” whiner, right?).  He seemed genuinely perplexed as to why women didn’t find him attractive based on his chosen sport. 

Well DUH.

You are the kind of guy who has sex with DOLLS. The kind of guy who dresses them up and talks to them and pretends they are sleeping after sex. The kind of guy who keeps a mausoleum room to his dead mother.  You RADIATE “fucked up weird” and “objectify women”. Women pick up on that kind of “not normal”,”obsessive”, weird-assed shit - at least the SANE ones do. The staring intently and inability to carry on a normal conversation are usually dead give-aways too.

The bf walked into my office as I was viewing the video and stayed for a few minutes, rapt in abject horror and fascination.  The youngest spawn watched only part of the documentary with the same look of revulsion on his face and said, “Fucked. Just fucked.” 

The next night we were out with a group of friends in a rather busy, noisy environment. The bf and I discussed it in that limited way that the bf discusses anything:

me: You know, I was thinking about that Real Doll thing and sadly, I can think of a couple of people we know who might be the types to have one or more hiding in their closets.

bf: (knowing nod)

me: You think so too? How many?

bf: (shows two fingers)

me: Me too! Who?

bf: (look that says: I can’t say right now. Other people are present)

Me: whispers: [name withheld] ?

bf: (knowing nod - and SMIRK)

Me: And?

bf (another knowing nod and SMIRK)

Me: DAMN. We picked the same two. 

bf: (*SMILE*)

The ONLY positive thing I can say about guys who feel compelled to substitute real human interaction with “Real Dolls” is that at LEAST they aren’t breeding. At least their genetics are no longer propagating.

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Damn Technology…

August 7, 2008 | Filed Under The Heartless Bitch Way | No Comments

If you tried to apply for membership this week, I didn’t receive the app. Seems that an IP address changeover required a few more hidden tweaks in deeply buried, and long forgotten config files, and mail from most web apps ceased to route through.

It’s fixed now.  To the best of my knowledge.

(I really have to upgrade this damn server).

So if you applied for membership between July 30th and August 7th at 8pm EDT, you might want to apply again.

Â

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Kids and networks - cut from the same cloth.

July 28, 2008 | Filed Under Parenting, Computers, The Heartless Bitch Way | No Comments

Today, as I am trying to make a network change to allow one of our corporate satellite sites access to a DMZ, (Demilitarized Zone, for the uninitiated), we suddenly lose all our Internet access. We spend almost 2 hours rebooting the firewall, the DNS servers (it seems related to DNS), only to discover that our primary network provider line went out.    The reason it took us so long to figure out was because some of our traffic was being routed over a secondary line. (It’s a long and sordid story, but it was also MONDAY, which plays a factor in any of these issues).  Of course, right at the time that I call the ISP corporate support line, connectivity returns. Of course.  And I am left there trying to explain to the support guy that the network was DEAD. Really. Just seconds ago.

That’s the way it usually happens.

You parents know that it’s the same with kids and doctors.

There they are. Fever of 104F. Barfing up everything - even water. You rush them to the clinic, or, god forbid, the emergency ward, and by the time a doctor gets to see them (HOURS later), they have a normal temperature, they are eating everything in sight, and running around raising hell.

But…. but… but… “He was REALLY sick when I brought him in.”

And of course they give you THAT look. The one that says, “Ah yes… yet another case of ‘over-protective parent syndrome’”. And they nod with that patronizing look, and assure you that your child will be JUST fine, and if the symptoms recur, you can bring them back in (and wait another 3 hours).

The kids grow up (eventually), but networks remain recalcitrant infants.

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Back in the Saddle

July 27, 2008 | Filed Under Uncategorized, Work, Computers | No Comments

If you were trying to get to HBI in the last few days, you may have seen some “site not available” messages. Correction, you may have seen A LOT of “site not available” messages.

At least twice on Friday, the server went down, and I had my ISP reboot it.  I couldn’t take much time to deal with it because my REAL job - the one that pays the bills - had me stuck in “networking hell” - and I don’t mean the kind where you talk to people.

[Geek alert] Friday morning I had scheduled to move a handful of servers from one subnet to another in preparation for a larger network move. I had scripted out what needed to be done the night before.  What SHOULD have been a 1 hour move turned into an all day ordeal complete with rebooting the firewall AND rebooting the DNS servers.  These things seldom go as planned, and this one took a wrong turn at Albuquerque right out of the starting gate.  In the midst of it all I had meetings to attend and other fires to put out.  So HBI languished.

Late Friday night the HBI server died again and no amount of incantations, three-fingered salutes or prayers would get it back. Thank god my ISP is small, with actual staff there to help you on a Saturday.

Saturday was a bit of a frantic day for me, what with 25+ people arriving that night for the annual Natalie VS Tony Rib Cook-off…  but I just had to get out to my ISP and see if there was anything that could be done for my decrepit and presently defunct server.

Corey was a sweetheart - he pulled it off the shelf, we tried swapping a video card, but that didn’t work, but I did notice that while the box had power, the fan on the power supply wasn’t spinning. He rummaged through a box of power supplies, uncertain if they were good or not - and after the second one we tried, we hit success - the box was up and running again.

Of course, this just highlights the fact that I simply HAVE to get my ass in gear and work on the migration of HBI to a newer/better/stronger server.  However, to get that done, I think I’ll actually have to take a week of vacation leave and focus on nothing else.  If things ever slow down at work, I may do just that.  Granted, I’d rather spend a week of vacation leave on a sunny beach somewhere, with a buff young pool-boy named Juan bringing me drinks, but this shit has just got to get DONE, and it’s too involved and complicated to do piecemeal.  The biggest pain in the ass is going to be going from a non-case sensitive system to a case-sensitive one.  I have THOUSANDS of documents to go through and sanitize by both changing file names and globally searching and replacing links in files.  Then there is the database upgrade, a dozen applications to test (and a few to upgrade - like the HBI discussion forums), and the mail server aliases to port over…. AUGH. It gives me a headache just thinking about it. 

I started in on this HBI migration last summer. Truly I did.  Admittedly at the urging/prodding of the bf, who even went so far as to get the dev system all set up and ready for me in an effort to get me MOVING on it.   But once again it languished due to other more pressing priorities, and perhaps my own penchant for procrastination on these kinds of endeavors.  I’m great about doing this kind of stuff for work, but personally, I LOATHE having to reinstall and move all my stuff to a new computer.  Maybe it’s because it’s what I do all day, that it’s the last thing I want to do when I get home at night?  This would explain why I am still using Windows 2000 server on my home system.

But I realize that I simply MUST make some time to get HBI ported to a new, improved, more reliable server.  Hardware is cheap enough now, and the current server is likely on its last legs, so it’s TIME.  Now if I could just find some.

Oh, and if the site goes AWOL again this week, it’s because we have to change IP Addresses and it may take a while for your local servers to update their DNS.  Fear not, I am still here, stirring up shit.

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There ought to be a test

July 15, 2008 | Filed Under Parenting, Social idiocy, Lifestyles of the Heartlessly Bitchy | 4 Comments

The more time I spend around the “general public”, the more I become convinced:  the herd needs culling.

I’m not kidding.  The gene pool is seriously polluted.  But then, dear readership, you already knew that, or you wouldn’t be a fan of this site.

Since modern science has interfered with Darwinian natural selection, I think we need to interefere further and impose a parenting test on all prospective parents.  If for no other reason than to protect innocent kids from being born to utterly self-absorbed morons.

One thing that made my blood boil this past week was people taking babies and very young kids to Bluesfest, with NO hearing protection.  Kids have much more sensitive eardrums. Everything is still growing, AND they have no choice or knowledge about how to protect themselves - they rely on their parents to do that.  Any reasonably intelligent adult should know this. 

A typical rock concert has music in the range of 100-125 decibels. Bluesfest was no exception.  They were measuring noise in the range of 55-65 decibels over a kilometer away from the site.  I rarely go close to the stages because it’s just too loud. But anywhere on the grounds with a child is still going to be exposing them to unacceptably high noise levels unless they have adequate hearing protection.

The worst was the couple with a (probably 8-week old) baby, who were decked out hemp clothing, probably ate all organic food, would likely breast-feed the kid till he was in college, and yet had him by the main stages with nothing more than cotton stuffed in his ears.  The bf worked for a large manufacturer in the past. I asked him if they would allow the staff in the plant to use cotton balls for “hearing protection” in an area with 90+ decibels of noise.  He snorted in disgust. 

Honestly, these people are too STUPID to be allowed to breed!  I’m beginning to think that for the protection of the kids, they should refuse parents entry who do not have adequate hearing protection for their kids.  It’s illegal to take a child out on a boat without a life preserver or drive them around in a car without a seatbelt. It should be illegal to take them to a rock concert without hearing protection. 

In truth, for the babies under 2 years of age at least, it should be illegal to take them to an adult music festival or concert, period, because apparently people are too STUPID to know better. 

Pregnant women past 20 weeks expose there foetus to potential hearing loss (and themselves to premature labour) if they go into highly noisy environments as well.  If you plan on carrying that baby to term, don’t go to a rock concert or festival past the first trimester.

Here’s the deal people - you CHOSE to have a child.  DEAL with the responsibility that entails, AND the sacrifice.  Like a movie theatre, or a play, a concert is NOT a place for a baby. If you can’t afford the sitter, you can’t afford to go. It’s as simple as that, so suck it up. You have to learn to an important concept that you should be teaching your kids: DELAY OF GRATIFICATION.  It’s a concert. There will be another one.  You can see the movie on DVD.  Save up the few extra dollars for a sitter for that play, or trade baby-sitting with a neighbor.

You won’t be able to do all the same things you did when you were childless, so just accept that fact and be a fucking ADULT about it.  Be the PARENT your child needs you to be.  And if you aren’t ready to assume that responsibility and change your lifestyle it’s quite simple: DON’T FUCKING BREED.

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