Virgins for Mohammed or BHO as a Savior

Recently,  it would appear that the American people have been delivered a bunch of gobbly gluck as to what exactly caused the tragic September 11, 2012 attack on our embassy in Benghazi, Libya.  Most of the confusion is coming out of the omnipotent palace of "Our Lord and Savior" [thank you Jamie Foxx] in other words referred to B. Hussein Obama.

Was it spontaneous?  Was it the result of some unknown video? Was it the result of Hostess going out of business - and Muslim terrorists,  all over the world are in an uproar over the possible demise of the Ho-Ho and Twinkie?  No one, especially the American people, seem to have a clue what caused terrorists to attack our Embassy and murder Ambassador Stevens, Glen Doherty, Sean Smith and Tyrone Woods.

Last night I sat at supper with my husband, a former Navy man, and another friend, a former Army man.  Ideas were tossed around the table as to what is going on in Washington, D.C. and just how much should the American people be made aware of.  In its most rudimentary example, our Army friend moved water glasses around, and mentioned the famous lines of bait and switch, deferring attention from one water glass to another.  Are the Americans tax payers that stupid?  Are we that complacent that we no longer care, or wish to engage in a driving, burning desire to know the truth - something we are entitled to?

Never one to sit in a corner, and remain silent, I announced my desire to start writing letters to my Senators and Congressmen about why I voted for them, and exactly what I expect from them.  I'm not like the TIME Magazine nominee, Sandra Fluke, who wants some free condoms or birth control, so she can continue to entertain herself in extra-curricular activities.  Shit, I'm a grandmother, mother, wife, daughter, sister and TAX PAYING AMERICAN CITIZEN (well past menopause ...no birth control needed...)who wants some bloody answers.  I don't want tap dancing, or water glasses being moved around a diner table.  I want to know what happened in Libya.

Can anyone imagine what it would be like if all Americans made the same demand of their elected officials?  Nothing vindictive, or provocative, just the plain and direct truth.  Sec of State Hillary Clinton still seems confused, potential nominee Susan Rice goes on 5 Sunday morning news programs and trips over her secret Intel ..."I'm going off what has been told to me..." robotic rhetoric, and how do I even begin to describe the utter disgrace of our newly re-elected disaster of a president?

General Patraeus and the mess of extra-marital affairs seemed so convenient.  Almost too convenient.  And if you look on the cover of People Magazine, you see a picture of his biographer.  Disgusting.  How much time will the media spend on the love lorn females climbing upon horny generals, and tap dance around what smells, no, wait - actually reeks of cover-up.  What are colleges and universities producing now-a-days with respect to investigative journalism?  Isn't anyone willing to dig into the cesspool of corrupt Washington, D.C. and for the memory of 4 dead Americans, discover where the truth is?  Will these 4 Americans be placed in a little box, and left to gather dust in some secret room, in the corrupt White House?

The POTUS has big plans for America.  He managed to play mind tricks on more than 52% of the American people towards an indoctrination of Socialism.  He thinks he's going to push Obamacare through, even though the 10th Amendment of the Constitution of the United States of America argues against it.  He's basking in the glow of his newly appointed title of "Lord and Savior" vis-a-vis moron Jamie Foxx, a movie star.  Who will be the first to pound a nail into the POTUS' hand on that crucifix? Obama even managed to leave GOD out of the Thanksgiving Blessing.

So, I will take up a pen and paper, and bombard my elected officials with letters demanding truths to the murders of 4 Americans who gave their lives on September 11, 2012.  And if I, all of a sudden, disappear, you may be able to find me in the box in the White House marked and cataloged, Menopausal Grandmother.

Country Music, Conspiracies and The Haters

So, here we are, fresh into a rerun of the stale, lying, corrupt and just plain disgusting Obama's presidency.  Did things "change"?  Nope.  Have things moved "forward"? Nope. Is there "Hope" for America?  Nope.  Wow, if I did not know any better, I'd say that the auto rewind spiraled out of control on my 1980s' styled tape deck.

I held my tongue - as long as I could.  Has anyone even tried to hold their tongue?  It's not all that easy.  Your hand gets kind of wet, you drool a bit, and well, your jaw gets sore.  Wait, are we talking about holding our tongues anymore, or describing the royal blow job that America's Uncle Sam is getting?  Ah, a little too graphic for some of you - try bending over in the shower then, grab that bar of soap called justice, and take one for the team.  Quit using the scales of justice to measure your pot and "fast and furious" weapons that killed Border Agent Brian Terry.

Okay, now that I got that out of my system, let's get down to it.  Conspiracies and The Haters.  Country Music - it's what I am listening to now on my Pandora Station to keep focus on my mood...to control it!!  The Haters.  I recently found out, by virtue of someone who does not know me, that I am a "Hater".  Apparently, Haters are those who voted against The POTUS, and decided to vote new blood into the White House.  Haters are morally bankrupt, we hate people of color, we hate women, we hate government supplied birth control, we hate entitlements, we hate the poor, we hate the pro-choice movement, we hate health care for everyone, we hate Hollywood, we hate Michael Moore, George Clooney, Alec Baldwin, Maureen Dowd, Rachel Maddow, MSNBC, NBC, CBS, ABC and NPR.  We love money.  We love our country.  We love capitalism.  We believe in moral responsibility,  We believe in less government. We are pro-life.  We are against medicinal maryjane (4:20), we apparently love taxing the poor,  and giving the rich a break.  We love freedom of speech.  We believe in and support our U.S. Military.  We believe that a cross in the middle of a remote California desert which honors U.S. military dead is OK.  We believe "In God We Trust" should be left on money, and that "One Nation Under God" means something.

So, I am confused.  Now, do not misinterpret my sentiments to imply that non-Haters don't love their country, or that I question their patriotism, BUT, why then should a non-Hater have the audacity (using their leader's wordage) to exclaim me to be a "HATER"  when I respond to the vapid drivel coming from the mouth of the fat one - Michael Moore. Free speech, in the mind of the non-Haters, means you recite the pledge of life according to the liberal thought pattern.  If I could get my mind to that small size, well, maybe I'd be amongst the holy ones - the non-Haters.  But, since I stand firm in thinking outside the box of the non-Hater lifestyle, I guess I'll just have to excel myself into being the best Hater I can be.

Okay, enough hating.  Let's graduate on to the world of corruption.  How many remember old Richard Nixon?  An exceptionally intelligent man, who was paranoid, shy, in a constant state of worry; talking in secret about this and that - which led to the Deep Throat and Watergate?  I, for one, thought Richard Nixon wasn't really that bad.  Or should I say, he just got caught doing what most of modern day politicians have been getting away with.

Watergate, Whitewater/Rose Law Firm, Contragate, Clintongate, or was that Cigargate?  Now we have a newly coined "gate" to look towards.  "Benghazigate".  How sad that we still are not smart enough to get past what seems to be a prerequisite in politics -  sex and corruption.  Here we sit, on Veteran's Day, a time to reflect upon those who have served in our Armed Forces, and learning about Gen. Patraeus (a married man and head of the CIA), Mrs. Broadwell, his biographer (a married woman), and their playing footsie while she was writing his biography.  What, exactly, was she writing about?  His penis length, how good he was in bed?  What cologne he wears?  Then we learn, about another woman, a friend of the General's who received menacing emails from Mrs. Broadwell to "stay away from her man".  I'm waiting to hear about a diaper clad biographer making a trip to Florida to look for that other woman, and maybe we can throw another General or national security/intelligence person under the bus, for grins and giggles.

FOX News (and other news sources) reported earlier today that the now freshly resigned General Patraeus is not going to testify before a congressional panel about the fine details of  Benghazi.  Given that the Obama Administration still has Eric Holder in office, after Fast & Furious, and no action has been taken against him,  I must begin to wonder if  a congressional subpoena will be issued for General Patraeus, Sec of State Hillary Clinton, or the FBI.  I wonder just how many people involved with the MURDER of our Ambassador to Libya, Chris Stevens,  as well as Sean Smith, Glen Doherty & Tyrone Woods, will magically slip the hands of justice and the power of a Congressional Subpoena, and either take the 5th, and/or magically become unavailable for testimony before Congress.

What do we owe this country?  What does this country owe us?  JFK stated during his inaugural speech, "Ask not what your Country can do for you, but what YOU can do for your Country" [emphasis added YOU].  With those famous words, what should WE THE PEOPLE expect from our Government?  Should we become familiar with lies, cover-ups and corruption or should we expect more?  Should we expect a Government that strives for honesty?  Can those even co-exist in a free country meant to be democratic in nature?  What would George Washington think?

We don't need not inquire as to what Ret. USNavy SEALs Glen Doherty or Tyrone Woods would do - America got their answer on September 11, 2012, during a fire fight, living and dying the creed - Leave No Man Behind.

Oh no - You're A Cowboy? Does Your Scrotum Hurt?

A few years back (excuse me while I adjust my Pandora music station to Pure Prairie League genre for added calmness, sans Ativan), I was at a farewell party for one of the ER docs.  It was a gathering of many personalities, mostly ski patrol, EMS, fire, police and hospital employees.  We all came from different sets of circumstances, that brought us to a point in our lives, where being first responders was what we craved as our drug of choice. Adrenaline. "The ride, the ultimate ride".  There's nothing like it.

Red light blinking fire trucks, sirens, the noises, the smells, the guns, the sight of a trauma surgeon slicing into a stabbing victim's chest, and performing open heart massage (at Denver General); the smell of blood and the endorphin rush that follows. From the First Aid worker who might apply a band-aid to a small blister, all the way up to CPR on someone you know is already gone; the job is never easy, and you take home each and every patient you treat, no matter the outcome.  Some sit in the back of  my mind to this day - almost a 1.5 yrs after I started my last IV on a patient, at 35,000 feet, in the back of an airplane, on the way to Phoenix.

My birth mother had suffered a near fatal cardiac arrest back in March 2010.  Ironically, as a flower power protesting fool of a liberal loving Democrat, she was at an Obama styled health care rally, when she suddenly "grabbed her chest and dropped, mid sentence", as one witness later told us.  The last 2 pictures of my mother were her holding a sign  "Obamacare for everyone", and the next one was of her on the ground and 2 off duty Wyoming EMTs performing CPR, and a Tempe Police Officer trying to get Fire/EMS to the scene.  My mother was lucky that she survived her ordeal.  LESSON ONE HERE FOLKS - LEARN CPR, IT SAVES LIVES!


In May 2010, one day after ankle reconstruction, I boarded an airplane for my "turn" at being with my grandmother, and also to see my mother.  Crutches and all, I hobbled on to a United flight.  It never fails, I usually have a kid who's parents failed "Control Thy Child", to the larger person who kicks my seat, to the little table that doesn't stay up for the duration of the flight.  This particular flight was like every other I've been aboard.  I got the "kicker".  A big bubba, with a 10 gallon cowboy hat, and cowboy boots for added seat kicking ability.  Well, damn it all to hell, 45 minutes into a 90 minute flight, my beloved kicking cowboy starts really gets restless behind me.  Forget about the fact that I'm in a cast, with a set of toes that scream, "Pedicure Please", when I over hear the cowboy say..."I think I'm having a heart attack".  You've got to be kidding me?

This is your decision making moment.  Do you remain silent, for fear of some crazy outcome that results in litigation, or do you do the right thing and turn around at look at the flight attendant and say, "I'm a medic, can I help"?  Okay, so I have a knee high cast, one day fresh from surgery, and purple toes...what are you going to do?  Let the guy croak?  So, to the back of the plane we head, where I then discover that the budget cuts allow airlines to fly "pillow free.".  Bubba gets a huge wad of plastic garbage pail liners as a pillow, and I ask the flight attendant about first aid kits, IV solutions and needles.  And an AED.  Bubba's main concern was that he not lose sight of his gigantic, "I ride livestock for a living" belt buckle.  In the cowboy world of bulls, broncs, etc...these heavy belt buckles are like gold.  "Sorry buddy, but I've got to get your shirt open, and loosen your pants a little bit."  Bubba, being a true cowboy says..."well okay darling, if you've got to let the dragon out".  Really, do you honestly think being in the back of an airplane at 35,000 feet has summoned a sexual encounter out of me?  Settle down cowboy!

The first aid kit...if that's what you call it, was by no means set up for cardiac arrest.  No cardiac meds.  Bubba could ask for aspirin, but there are so many fine guidelines of what one can administer.  Sealed aspirins in blister packs are ok; nothing out a bottle.  "Bubba Cowboy, are you allergic to aspirin?"  "No...good take these".  He got the full pat down; all 4 quadrants palped, BP, and me listening to his heart and lungs.etc,(He informed me that his heart was beating for only me) the rapid assessment, and subsequent assessments.  What I had the most regret for (and it was for him, not me) was the only size catheters were 16g, and those suckers hurt going in.  He had a great AC vein, and I got it on the first try...good thing since the first aid kit only had one. No LR on board, only saline.  It's better than nothing.  He got the 12 lead  EKG and 2 big AED patches applied to the big old bubba barrel chest/belly, and we landed in Phoenix 25 minutes ahead of schedule.

As we were prepping to land, he looked down at my foot, which by now, had blood seeping through the post operative cast, and said to me...."well what did you do little lady?"  This guy was a charmer a minute.  I just finished up asking if you had scrotal pain, and you want to call me little lady?  Did you think that was a marriage proposal earlier?  I told him, "oh, just some ankle surgery yesterday, no biggie".  He proceeds to tell me of this great cowboy surgeon he knows in Steamboat.  I look at him and ask really, who. "Well, little lady, Sisk is his name, and broncos and pretty women are his game."  8 seconds with this bull riding bubba was simply too long.  Of course, the master of surgery was indeed Dr. Michael Sisk, my doctor, who's last words to me were, "Anniemac, please try and relax in Phoenix, and be a good girl and please don't over do it".  Rules are made to be broken, right! 

P.S.  Big Bubba Cowboy did have severe hypertension, and earned himself the birthing of a calf sized kidney stone out of  the "Dragon in his pants". He's probably out there, still charming little ladies, with a healthier heart.