As the birthday of our nation edges closer, I am drawn to a level of sadness. Fireworks, BBQs, parades, flag waving are all festive, and bring so much happiness and elation to most people, however the 4th of July brings bittersweet memories to me. 26 years ago, a little angel came into my life, and sadly went out almost immediately.
I speak of my son, Michael Ryan Burns-Gartlan, who was born and died on the 4th of July, 1984. He would have been the middle child. His sister is Eryn Corry and his brother is Bryan. He is my angel now, but still, I remember him every day of my life, and as his birthday approaches, I think back to the decisions I made 26 years ago.
Michael had so many birth issues. I can still recall the blank faces of the med students in the exam room, as they stared on the ultrasound monitor. At first, it was just my mom, the US tech and me in the room. The big clue that something was wrong was when the US tech left the room, and returned with the doctor and a little pod of med students. It was then that I learned what everyone saw on the screen.
Michael was diagnosed with a congenital heart anomaly, spina bifada, cystic hygroma right off the bat. Those were the maladies that could be seen on the monitor. Then came the amniocentesis. A large bore needle, inserted into the womb to drain amniotic fluid off, in order to conduct genetic testing. This revealed more problems - the most damning being that of Down's Syndrome. I was told that even if Michael survived his birth, the chances of me raising him at home were close to nil, as he would most likely need to be institutionalized.
The drive home from USC that day was long and very, very heartbreaking. All the specialists the USC had to offer couldn't change the fact that my son was in trouble. Some people suggested terminating the pregnancy. I simply couldn't fathom that. Murder is not an option. When we, as people, begin the systematic elimination of the human race based solely on a birth defect, we hover dangerously close to what Hitler and other monsters had done in our history. I would not even consider this abortion option. I had already felt Michael move, heard his little heart beating and bonded to him, in utero.
Michael's father and I decided to go forward with the pregnancy. We had the support of our families, and knew that we faced some very daunting days ahead of us. Our main concern was that Michael was in no pain, in the womb. That would have killed us - to imagine a baby in any pain. Thankfully, we were assured by the genetic specialist, that Michael did not suffer at all.
Weekly visits to USC began after the initial diagnosis. With what was considered an extremely high risk pregnancy, it was also a learning opportunity for the medical school. At times I felt like an experiment, but I truly believed, and still do, that if just one of those students monitoring my pregnancy could help discover a way to prevent this ever happening again, to another mother, than it was worth it to me.
Every week brought another test, another poke, another ultrasound. Every week I was blessed with the sound of Michael's heart beating. I could feel him moving. It brought me great comfort to feel him inside of me, safe from the world...safe from a world that would soon judge him based upon his diseases.
On July 4th, early in the morning, I went into labor, and was sent to USC to deliver. The labor was painful. Physical pain, which I could deal with, still was uneasy. However, it was the mental anguish that was ripping me in two. I delivered Michael. He had severe physical deformities. He was wrapped in a blanket, and then died in my arms. If ever one questions as to the presence of a holy spirit, or soul, I can attest to the fact that I felt the presence of God in that delivery room, and felt the little soul of my son, as it passed through my body, and went to heaven. I held Michael for quite a while. I did not want to let go. What other people might have considered hideous, I saw a beautiful blond baby boy, with a little nose and chin. I saw little fingers, little toes. In my opinion and in my heart, I held the epitome of perfection.
How lucky Michael was to be born. How lucky he was to have died. He would not have to face the pain of people staring at him, because of his deformities. He would not have to face painful ridicule. He was so blessed to enter heaven and live among all of his relatives that had gone before him. A life full of grace.
There are some days when I can feel my son's presence around me. I have even had the rare, but blessed chance to encounter his spirit near me during a particularly trying time in my life. I imagine and dream of what he would look like now, as a young man of 26. I daydream about what his life might have been like. When my daddy passed away, one of the statements he made to me was that he was going to see his grandson. This brought me such joy. I can't even imagine the spectacular amount of jubilation as someone enters heaven, and they are greeted by family. Michael is there now... with so many people I loved in my life.
So, as the 4th of July draws closer, i am reminded that I was given a gift 26 years ago. I was and remain Michael Ryan Burns-Gartlan's mother. I love you dear boy!
About Me
- anniemac
- My husband tells me I am a makebate. So, what's wrong with that? I love to write. I have 2 great kids and 1 grandson. I'd love to say I am "retired" but really, who retires from life? Shoot me a question, comment, rant or rave. They are all welcome here. Love dogs, my family, and most of all, debate. Pro NRA, conservative and a right wing lady.
Wednesday, June 29, 2011
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
Do You Remember Your Vacation?
When I was a little girl, one of the greatest times of the year was summer vacation. Sure, we had weekends with our parents, but a summer vacation was a real treat. My parents spent quite a bit of time planning where they would take the family for 10 days. There were the camping trips. One year my parents even sprang for a trip to England and Ireland, a glorious dream vacation, even though I did manage to come down with rubella.
What I remember most about vacations was that you saved up for them. You worked hard, full time jobs, with 40+ hours a week, made sacrifices, pinched pennies, and in our case, drove to all our summer destinations. My parents had a hideous yellow Plymouth station wagon, and no FM radio. 6 people in a car, with no air-conditioning, vinyl seats and summer in southern California, need I say more? More often than not, I recall melting to the back seat from the heat, and non-absorbent material.
Although my parents owned a beach house, often times the house was being rented out, and hence, we did not spend a multitude of time there. We had camping trips in Carpenteria, Yosemite, the Sequoias, Death Valley and Mammoth Mountain. Each and every vacation holds special remembrances.
What puzzles me now is the amount of vacation time that our current president and his family seem to be enjoying. Now, one can say that some of these overseas trips are business trips, all with the best interests of our country at hand. And some might say that all past presidents have done then same. But, with the country in dire straits, and people without jobs, insurance, hope or change, appearances are everything.
Michelle Obama has a deep affinity for french fries. And she apparently enjoys them immensely, in South Africa. I suppose that if you were on a field trip in a foreign country, any type of food would be a culinary explosion. But, in case Ms. Obama has forgotten, the United States, Chicago in particular, has loads of french fries. And in case B. Hussein Obama has let it slip his community organizing mind, golf isn't the latest, greatest way to manage a country.
As with every president, first families have from time to time, traveled with their parents. But, this current president seems to think that there is an limitless supply of frequent flyer miles to be had. The 2 Obama girls are having the time of their lives, traveling the globe with their Mom, while somewhere there are children who went to bed hungry, because Daddy lost his job, and works at Costco just to make ends meet.
And let us not forget that every time B. Hussein Obama boards Air Force One, the dollar signs begin to add up. Secret Service, FBI, military pre-planning, security, food, fuel, etc, etc. And when Michelle Obama hops on a plane with her daughters, the tally counts even higher. Where does this money come from? Does anyone stop to question that? It amazes me that this president and his wife are living high on the hog while people are trying to locate their lost teddy bears in tornado-ravaged Joplin, MO.
Somehow, the Obamas have sold a bill of faulty goods to this country, and there were some people dense enough to buy into the hope & change sermon.
What I remember most about vacations was that you saved up for them. You worked hard, full time jobs, with 40+ hours a week, made sacrifices, pinched pennies, and in our case, drove to all our summer destinations. My parents had a hideous yellow Plymouth station wagon, and no FM radio. 6 people in a car, with no air-conditioning, vinyl seats and summer in southern California, need I say more? More often than not, I recall melting to the back seat from the heat, and non-absorbent material.
Although my parents owned a beach house, often times the house was being rented out, and hence, we did not spend a multitude of time there. We had camping trips in Carpenteria, Yosemite, the Sequoias, Death Valley and Mammoth Mountain. Each and every vacation holds special remembrances.
What puzzles me now is the amount of vacation time that our current president and his family seem to be enjoying. Now, one can say that some of these overseas trips are business trips, all with the best interests of our country at hand. And some might say that all past presidents have done then same. But, with the country in dire straits, and people without jobs, insurance, hope or change, appearances are everything.
Michelle Obama has a deep affinity for french fries. And she apparently enjoys them immensely, in South Africa. I suppose that if you were on a field trip in a foreign country, any type of food would be a culinary explosion. But, in case Ms. Obama has forgotten, the United States, Chicago in particular, has loads of french fries. And in case B. Hussein Obama has let it slip his community organizing mind, golf isn't the latest, greatest way to manage a country.
As with every president, first families have from time to time, traveled with their parents. But, this current president seems to think that there is an limitless supply of frequent flyer miles to be had. The 2 Obama girls are having the time of their lives, traveling the globe with their Mom, while somewhere there are children who went to bed hungry, because Daddy lost his job, and works at Costco just to make ends meet.
And let us not forget that every time B. Hussein Obama boards Air Force One, the dollar signs begin to add up. Secret Service, FBI, military pre-planning, security, food, fuel, etc, etc. And when Michelle Obama hops on a plane with her daughters, the tally counts even higher. Where does this money come from? Does anyone stop to question that? It amazes me that this president and his wife are living high on the hog while people are trying to locate their lost teddy bears in tornado-ravaged Joplin, MO.
Somehow, the Obamas have sold a bill of faulty goods to this country, and there were some people dense enough to buy into the hope & change sermon.
Free Speech & Malcontent
One by one, those who I believed were friends, have dropped off the radar. Oddly enough, one of the women in my life, to whom I held and continue to hold the utmost respect for telephoned me today, in a state of rage. I wish that she could have realized that the homage I paid her for helping me through a horrible patch of life was a salute to the gift of life that so many people seek for, some find and others fall short of; never finding the salvation. She is a heroine to me. Regardless of the phone call, or the things said - I stand by my praise of her, and value the advice and determination she had me seek within my self. Just how to you begin to thank someone for giving you a second chance at life?
Quite a number of people made positive comment as to an anniversary I celebrated not too long ago. I marveled at the tenacity of this special person who is a fighter; passionate in life. This woman is someone that I hoped to emulate. Sadly, this person did not hold the same opinion that I did.
Even with a not so nice telephone call, harsh and strident, in tone, I can't help but feel sad that the pure intent I had to praise someone could be so misconstrued.
Quite a number of people made positive comment as to an anniversary I celebrated not too long ago. I marveled at the tenacity of this special person who is a fighter; passionate in life. This woman is someone that I hoped to emulate. Sadly, this person did not hold the same opinion that I did.
Even with a not so nice telephone call, harsh and strident, in tone, I can't help but feel sad that the pure intent I had to praise someone could be so misconstrued.
Monday, June 27, 2011
does this tan make me like thinner?
So, over the years I have become aware, painfully aware, that I do not possess a grand amount of collagen.
Come on ladies (maybe some men, too) collagen is a magic remedy that some of us have in abundance and others lack in great deficiency! It's the by product in our bodies that keeps us looking firm, taut, thin and young. I apparently stood in the wrong line - mistaking the large group of people in line, and thinking "yeah, I want some of that". Imagine my shock when I discovered I had been in the cellulite line. The large group of people gathering around the stand had also made the same mistake, and we were all trying to "return" our cellulite!
I had a cousin, Amelie Hennessey, who was a fantastic lady. She always had a healthy tan going on! Always! She looked vibrant, alive and full of life. She looked like a lady who had a great time - always outdoors, sunning at every opportunity she was afforded.
In my opinion, a tan just makes you look thinner. Maybe its the fact that it hides the massive dimples that come with cellulite. I don't know. However, I spend every minute I have in search of ways to soak up sun. Perhaps that is why I am finished with Colorado and want to return to the sandy beaches that give you a rich, bronzed look, year round. Winters in Colorado do not bestow the type of tan I want. I spent a few winters, into early spring, with goggle eyes. Not only did that type of tan make me look like some sort of pro skier, which I am painfully far from, but it made my butt look bigger.
After returning from Moab this weekend, I did notice that I am a few shades darker than I was last week at this time. The minute the snow melts - this year it has been SLOW - I find myself retreating to warm, sunny spots where I attempt to soak up every single ray of sunshine. I try to shake off the long winter blues with sunshine that not only rejuvenates my poor soul, but give my scary, beached whale appearance some relief. I know, I know, losing 20lbs would be of great benefit, however, every thing must come in small increments, and thus far, the 20lbs I want to shed is not falling off as I expected.
My reasoning on sun tanning is that if you are out in the sun, you are far more apt to be moving around, such as taking a walk, hiking or simply moving. This promotes calorie burning, and thus the weight loss follows in natural order. However, with menopause, I am discovering that calorie burning is twice as difficult as it was when I was 20 years younger. Damn!
No more are the lazy days of summer, when my friends and I would travel to Zuma Beach, smear baby oil on in vast amounts, set our radios to KMET or KLOS and lay in the sand for hours on end. Now, I am forced to tan in a new, unconventional manner. I actually need to cover some of the scary parts of my body so as to not offend other people.
In some ways I wish I could convey to the younger generations that this is their legacy in life if they allow themselves to get out of hand...eating too much, or getting in the CELLULITE LINE instead of COLLAGEN LINE.
Come on ladies (maybe some men, too) collagen is a magic remedy that some of us have in abundance and others lack in great deficiency! It's the by product in our bodies that keeps us looking firm, taut, thin and young. I apparently stood in the wrong line - mistaking the large group of people in line, and thinking "yeah, I want some of that". Imagine my shock when I discovered I had been in the cellulite line. The large group of people gathering around the stand had also made the same mistake, and we were all trying to "return" our cellulite!
I had a cousin, Amelie Hennessey, who was a fantastic lady. She always had a healthy tan going on! Always! She looked vibrant, alive and full of life. She looked like a lady who had a great time - always outdoors, sunning at every opportunity she was afforded.
In my opinion, a tan just makes you look thinner. Maybe its the fact that it hides the massive dimples that come with cellulite. I don't know. However, I spend every minute I have in search of ways to soak up sun. Perhaps that is why I am finished with Colorado and want to return to the sandy beaches that give you a rich, bronzed look, year round. Winters in Colorado do not bestow the type of tan I want. I spent a few winters, into early spring, with goggle eyes. Not only did that type of tan make me look like some sort of pro skier, which I am painfully far from, but it made my butt look bigger.
After returning from Moab this weekend, I did notice that I am a few shades darker than I was last week at this time. The minute the snow melts - this year it has been SLOW - I find myself retreating to warm, sunny spots where I attempt to soak up every single ray of sunshine. I try to shake off the long winter blues with sunshine that not only rejuvenates my poor soul, but give my scary, beached whale appearance some relief. I know, I know, losing 20lbs would be of great benefit, however, every thing must come in small increments, and thus far, the 20lbs I want to shed is not falling off as I expected.
My reasoning on sun tanning is that if you are out in the sun, you are far more apt to be moving around, such as taking a walk, hiking or simply moving. This promotes calorie burning, and thus the weight loss follows in natural order. However, with menopause, I am discovering that calorie burning is twice as difficult as it was when I was 20 years younger. Damn!
No more are the lazy days of summer, when my friends and I would travel to Zuma Beach, smear baby oil on in vast amounts, set our radios to KMET or KLOS and lay in the sand for hours on end. Now, I am forced to tan in a new, unconventional manner. I actually need to cover some of the scary parts of my body so as to not offend other people.
In some ways I wish I could convey to the younger generations that this is their legacy in life if they allow themselves to get out of hand...eating too much, or getting in the CELLULITE LINE instead of COLLAGEN LINE.
Friday, June 24, 2011
waiting on john
Most likely men will disagree with this posting. But, I believe in pointing out the routine I face whenever we are going on a trip. I am always waiting on John.
Now, God knows I love him, I really do! But for the life of me, I can't figure out what takes him so long to get ready to go anywhere. There are a million little things which seem to crop up the minute we are ready to walk out the door.
There is the tedious issue of packing, which ultimately is followed by the arrival at our destination, only to discover that he has forgotten something...usually headache medicine. So, today, as I am waiting for him...I packed his clothing for him. For a 3 day camping trip: 4 pairs skivvies, 5 pairs socks, 1 pair long pants and a sweatshirt, 2 shorts, 4 t-shirts, antacids, advil, sinus medicine, his travel bag which contains a razor, soap, nail clippers, toothbrush, toothpaste and shampoo. Lord help us if we arrive in Moab, and he finds he is missing something. I can usually tell by the way he wanders in the house that he is looking for something, and I insist he tell me what he is searching for - and I can put my finger on its location.
Then there is the morning coffee debate, in the porcelain office, which apparently takes men a long time to accomplish. Come on guys, its not a reading room, its the water closet. While I am getting ready to go wherever it is we are going, John could be doing a million little things. But, alas no, he is watching the television, or sitting in the office, or tinkering on some project. Arrrgh - the frustration of it all.
I get the car packed, arrange all little luxuries in the car so they are at hand's reach. I do admit to the fact that I am suffering from the inability to put CDs back into their original cases, thus popping in a CD is always met with surprise since you never know exactly what is going to be on the menu. I guess its time to re-install the XM radio! There is also the packing of the dog's "to go" travel bag. Tupperware of dog food, a chew toy, a bowl, a leash, poop bags...everything that a dog needs to travel. Although today Casey is going to her Auntie Shirley's house, so the to go bag is not so fully packed. Then there is the task of making sure I pack my own things.
Once I announce that its time to leave, it is then that John decides that its time to hit the bathroom again. The man has the bladder of a bird. I must admit that I did laugh when our children were young, I would make sure they hit the bathroom at least 3 times before we left. And sure enough, one hour into the trip, a voice would come from the back seat with, "Mom I have to go pee". With John, any liquid consumed during the trip will entice him to need several potty stops along the way. Lets just say that today's trip of 4 hours will undoubtedly take longer, as there will be several pits stops along the way.
Again, don't get me wrong, but traveling with John is a test to my sanity, and a reason that God made ativan!
Now, God knows I love him, I really do! But for the life of me, I can't figure out what takes him so long to get ready to go anywhere. There are a million little things which seem to crop up the minute we are ready to walk out the door.
There is the tedious issue of packing, which ultimately is followed by the arrival at our destination, only to discover that he has forgotten something...usually headache medicine. So, today, as I am waiting for him...I packed his clothing for him. For a 3 day camping trip: 4 pairs skivvies, 5 pairs socks, 1 pair long pants and a sweatshirt, 2 shorts, 4 t-shirts, antacids, advil, sinus medicine, his travel bag which contains a razor, soap, nail clippers, toothbrush, toothpaste and shampoo. Lord help us if we arrive in Moab, and he finds he is missing something. I can usually tell by the way he wanders in the house that he is looking for something, and I insist he tell me what he is searching for - and I can put my finger on its location.
Then there is the morning coffee debate, in the porcelain office, which apparently takes men a long time to accomplish. Come on guys, its not a reading room, its the water closet. While I am getting ready to go wherever it is we are going, John could be doing a million little things. But, alas no, he is watching the television, or sitting in the office, or tinkering on some project. Arrrgh - the frustration of it all.
I get the car packed, arrange all little luxuries in the car so they are at hand's reach. I do admit to the fact that I am suffering from the inability to put CDs back into their original cases, thus popping in a CD is always met with surprise since you never know exactly what is going to be on the menu. I guess its time to re-install the XM radio! There is also the packing of the dog's "to go" travel bag. Tupperware of dog food, a chew toy, a bowl, a leash, poop bags...everything that a dog needs to travel. Although today Casey is going to her Auntie Shirley's house, so the to go bag is not so fully packed. Then there is the task of making sure I pack my own things.
Once I announce that its time to leave, it is then that John decides that its time to hit the bathroom again. The man has the bladder of a bird. I must admit that I did laugh when our children were young, I would make sure they hit the bathroom at least 3 times before we left. And sure enough, one hour into the trip, a voice would come from the back seat with, "Mom I have to go pee". With John, any liquid consumed during the trip will entice him to need several potty stops along the way. Lets just say that today's trip of 4 hours will undoubtedly take longer, as there will be several pits stops along the way.
Again, don't get me wrong, but traveling with John is a test to my sanity, and a reason that God made ativan!
Thursday, June 23, 2011
My Big Fat Gaelic Gartlan Group
The other night my husband and I were watching one of our favorite movies, "My Big Fat Greek Wedding". Such a great movie - full of fun, laughter and beyond words - almost a picture of some of the oddities that it is to be part of the Gartlan clan.
The were 4 Gartlans that survived from Patrick and Mary. Anthony & Joan died young and are buried with their parents in the cemetery at St. Patrick's in Louth. Uncle Maurice had many children, as did my Auntie Gertie, my Daddy and my Uncle Michael. I listened to "Toula" from Big Fat Greek lamenting as to the amount of first cousins she had, and could not help but stop and laugh...There are alot of Gartlans. We are spread across the globe. Very few countries are safe from the raucous Irish Gartlans and all pratical tricks and odd sense of humor that has been inherited down the generations.
I don't want to leave anyone out, so here it goes: Patrick, Brendan, Nuala, Hilda, Paul V., Louise, Michael, Brian, Cormac, Ann, Paul M., Katie, Michael B, Peter, Anthony, Paula, Gabriel, Terrence, Laurence. Whew. I think I got them all. Then there are these cousins' children: too many to count. We're all over the place - South Africa, America, Canada, Ireland, Australia. And with each and every Gartlan, comes a wealth of information on anything you might need to know about banshees, fairies, leprechauns, rainbows, black sheep, lone bushes in fields, lone rocks in fields.
We also are a close knit group. I suspect that if there was ever an opportunity to get all of the cousins into a room together, either world peace would be solved, or we'd run dry of cigars, irish whiskey and jokes. Well, actually, a true Irishman never runs dry of quirky little stories about nothing in particular, but are able to salvage those stories into prolific tales. Suffice it to say, when you have a few of us in a room, good craic is sure to follow. The bottom line is that we all love each other. Sure, siblings have disagreements, and sure, we do not see eye to eye on everything. Some of my poor, misguided cousins actually think B. Hussein Obama is a great guy. Go figure that one.
The aunties and uncles are all gone now, and sadly some of the cousins have passed as well, but this great family of Gartlans continues to grow. What a great legacy we are molding for the future generations. The next generations will inherit the stories, fables, craic, love of life, humor and all that was and remains great about being part of the Big Fat Gaelic Gartlans.
The were 4 Gartlans that survived from Patrick and Mary. Anthony & Joan died young and are buried with their parents in the cemetery at St. Patrick's in Louth. Uncle Maurice had many children, as did my Auntie Gertie, my Daddy and my Uncle Michael. I listened to "Toula" from Big Fat Greek lamenting as to the amount of first cousins she had, and could not help but stop and laugh...There are alot of Gartlans. We are spread across the globe. Very few countries are safe from the raucous Irish Gartlans and all pratical tricks and odd sense of humor that has been inherited down the generations.
I don't want to leave anyone out, so here it goes: Patrick, Brendan, Nuala, Hilda, Paul V., Louise, Michael, Brian, Cormac, Ann, Paul M., Katie, Michael B, Peter, Anthony, Paula, Gabriel, Terrence, Laurence. Whew. I think I got them all. Then there are these cousins' children: too many to count. We're all over the place - South Africa, America, Canada, Ireland, Australia. And with each and every Gartlan, comes a wealth of information on anything you might need to know about banshees, fairies, leprechauns, rainbows, black sheep, lone bushes in fields, lone rocks in fields.
We also are a close knit group. I suspect that if there was ever an opportunity to get all of the cousins into a room together, either world peace would be solved, or we'd run dry of cigars, irish whiskey and jokes. Well, actually, a true Irishman never runs dry of quirky little stories about nothing in particular, but are able to salvage those stories into prolific tales. Suffice it to say, when you have a few of us in a room, good craic is sure to follow. The bottom line is that we all love each other. Sure, siblings have disagreements, and sure, we do not see eye to eye on everything. Some of my poor, misguided cousins actually think B. Hussein Obama is a great guy. Go figure that one.
The aunties and uncles are all gone now, and sadly some of the cousins have passed as well, but this great family of Gartlans continues to grow. What a great legacy we are molding for the future generations. The next generations will inherit the stories, fables, craic, love of life, humor and all that was and remains great about being part of the Big Fat Gaelic Gartlans.
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
OVER PAR PRESIDENT
So, as of today, June 21, 2011, the first day of summer, President B. Hussein Obama has played 75 rounds of golf. WOW. Who would have imagined that as the leader of the free country, one could spend so much time on a golf course.
So, I have a question... and really I believe it is a fair question. Is this the "hope and change" that this joker went to the voting public with? Really, 75 rounds of golf, while the economic state of this great country staggers around, punch drunk from the debt counter ticking so loudly that it creates a vortex of monetary fog?
Before anyone gets their panties in a wad, I want to emphatically state that if a Conservative Republican pulled these shenanigans, not only would the liberal, mainstream media be all over it, but I would hold a great amount of disdain as well for those sporting events.
With the state of this country wavering between recession and depression, I believe that our President owes us, the CITIZENS of this country a whole hearted effort. Seeing the Prez swinging away at a little white ball, in atrocious golfing outfits is simply downright disgusting. Sorta reminds me of the now incarcerated O.J. Simpson swinging away on golf courses, "looking for his dead wife's killer"... all talk, no action. On a happy note, O.J. decided that his true colors needed to be shown, and now he sits in a Clark County jail cell. I doubt he's going to find Nicole's killer there - oh wait...yes he will.
So, I continue to ask my dear liberal friends if they are satisfied with their Obama votes. I inquire as to whether or not B. Hussein Obama has fulfilled his campaign promises. Oddly enough, not one has responded with an answer. Looking back towards 2007 and months leading up to the election, one would have presumed that Obama was the messiah for America. He was going to redeem us as a nation, save us from the despair of those big, scary, mean Republicans, and get a gold star. Hmm, I'd say that at this point in time, things are no longer looking golden.
Instead of B. Hussein Obama looking for solutions on the golf course, perhaps he'd be better off to take some solid advice from the nation, and start behaving like a president in stead of trying to improve his golf score.
So, I have a question... and really I believe it is a fair question. Is this the "hope and change" that this joker went to the voting public with? Really, 75 rounds of golf, while the economic state of this great country staggers around, punch drunk from the debt counter ticking so loudly that it creates a vortex of monetary fog?
Before anyone gets their panties in a wad, I want to emphatically state that if a Conservative Republican pulled these shenanigans, not only would the liberal, mainstream media be all over it, but I would hold a great amount of disdain as well for those sporting events.
With the state of this country wavering between recession and depression, I believe that our President owes us, the CITIZENS of this country a whole hearted effort. Seeing the Prez swinging away at a little white ball, in atrocious golfing outfits is simply downright disgusting. Sorta reminds me of the now incarcerated O.J. Simpson swinging away on golf courses, "looking for his dead wife's killer"... all talk, no action. On a happy note, O.J. decided that his true colors needed to be shown, and now he sits in a Clark County jail cell. I doubt he's going to find Nicole's killer there - oh wait...yes he will.
So, I continue to ask my dear liberal friends if they are satisfied with their Obama votes. I inquire as to whether or not B. Hussein Obama has fulfilled his campaign promises. Oddly enough, not one has responded with an answer. Looking back towards 2007 and months leading up to the election, one would have presumed that Obama was the messiah for America. He was going to redeem us as a nation, save us from the despair of those big, scary, mean Republicans, and get a gold star. Hmm, I'd say that at this point in time, things are no longer looking golden.
Instead of B. Hussein Obama looking for solutions on the golf course, perhaps he'd be better off to take some solid advice from the nation, and start behaving like a president in stead of trying to improve his golf score.
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