Archive | December, 2014

Merry Christmas—-Now Let This Year End & RIP Chester

25 Dec

I have about four years of blogging under my belt, and each year I like to do a recap of the year on Christmas.  If you are unfamiliar, I always feel that Christmas is more of a yearly recap than New Years Eve.  I feel like tomorrow 2015 begins as opposed to in a few days from now.

So let’s keep this tradition alive, because frankly this year has been absolutely awful.  I can say that with a clear conscience and not hyperbolic.  I’ve mentioned it several times that I hated this year and well; for once in my life, let me be optimistic. I could easily complain and fucking whine throughout this but that’s why I have Twitter.  Let me recap first, what went right.

Beginning

I’m officially a post grad now.  While student loans have bitten me in the ass horrifically, I can still say that I graduated college and have a Bachelor’s degree.  That’s an accomplishment still and you know what, this year began with quite the bang.  I easily had the best New Years of my life and January was pretty awesome.

I also got my coaching career underway and while it was strictly volunteer work, I began carving my resume and I am OH SO CLOSE to announcing a good thing happening to me.  But I can’t yet.  However, it will be a step up the ladder.  That’s exciting.

Summer

Disclaimer.  The beginning of this summer shaped up to be one of my worst decisions of my life.  I decided to live in my college town and for about four weeks, I regretted it every day.  I had some fun nights with friends, that I can’t deny, but overall; it was awful.

Then I moved to a new place, started getting to know my co-workers and began tying up some loose ends.  While the end of summer kind of got depressing with personal life changes, I can honestly say I had about six amazing weeks with amazing people.  I got to intern at a professional cycling facility, got to enjoy some new memories and overall, I had a nice experience.  I’m glad I did it.

Work Experience

I got a couple jobs, both that are hourly positions that don’t really want to be part of me but hey; I’m working and making money which is never a terrible thing.

Well, that was about it for what I considered good.  I shouldn’t short change it because there were other random moments that made me proud of myself.  There were many laughs, many jokes and I never thought the word devious would make me clutch my sides in laughter as it did.

I can spend the next ten thousand words writing about the bad and all of that, but in the spirit of the season; let’s not.

However, I do have to mention one thing and that is the story of how we adopted Chester the Mainecoon cat.

Chester was a housecat all of his life.  Okay, well we don’t know that.  In fact we don’t know much of where Chester came from.  I like to believe he was born in the roaring twenties and was a member of some aristocratic family that he escaped from when the Depression occurred.

But we actually knew Chester for about a year before he entered our home about a decade ago.  There was a local animal “zoo” (and I say zoo in its loosest tense because this was more akin to a tourist trap off the turnpike) that also had pets up for adoption.  While the staff was very professional, you never thought it was the best place for the more exotic animals.

Well Chester was an older cat who they pretty much gave away for free to us.  They literally did that actually.  Our parents were picking up pizza nearby and took a while getting back.  Since this was before we all had cell phones, we wondered what took so long.  Then me and my sister saw something in the car window and got excited.

Until we realized he was a bigger cat that was totally nondescript in anyway.  We kind of wanted a kitten admittedly.

But within ten minutes, we fell in love with Chester when we found out he was the nicest cat that ever existed.  He was like a dog that would come to you when called, would rub you just for affection and even give you light headbutts just to express happiness.  He purred as loud and yowled instead of meowed.  He also had thumbs and could open doors.  Or at least wiggle the doorknobs.

For some odd reason the other cats hated him.  Like they treated him like shit.  They sometimes would just hit him and Chester would just maturely walk by them and wait for them to be done.

Chester also had some attachment syndrome I’m sure.  He would find a spot and stay there for maybe a year tops before finding a new one.  There was a six month span where he hung out in a toy closet and we barely saw him unless he had to eat/drink/litter box.

As the years progressed, he got a bit more sedentary.  Clearly a sign of aging but nothing to worry about.  He still somehow jumped from our island in the kitchen to the stove with the ease of a young cat.  But we started wondering when he might start slipping since we assumed he was near 20 or so years of age.

Months passed and while Chester lost some weight, he didn’t slip.

About two months ago, it looked like that he might be slipping for good from us.  He was struggling to walk, he wasn’t really eating and was staying still for awhile.  We worried but wanted to give him a couple more days to make sure he’d be okay. We got him off the island and made a bed for him on the floor.

Then miraculously, he improved.  He was walking fine, begging for food and enjoying his pets again.  He followed us in the kitchen and we were surprised.

Then last week happened.

He slept.  He stopped eating.  He finally stopped drinking.  He continued sleeping.

Then he passed.  Peacefully.  Sleeping.  Naturally.

Chester was probably the nicest cat we’ll ever have.  Taffy was a sweetheart as well as is Trixie (Kit Kat sucks), but Chester was a good one.  Its painful to walk into that kitchen though and not see his head perk up or having him follow you around the house aimlessly.  Its painful to think that he’s now a memory and not a living being.  It’s painful to think I’ll never hear him purr or feel his nails digging in my back begging for a scratch.

But it was awesome to have adopted him.

One Last Time: Michael Brown IS NOT Joda Cain

1 Dec

To follow Satirical Thoughts, hit us up on Twitter (BACK TO TEN FOLLOWERS) and Facebook.  

I always have to preface these posts with the following because mouthbreathers tend to get all up in arms (no offense 2nd Amendment) when posts like these happen.  I’m willing to provoke that if I may, but in the manner of “there are two sides to every story” (even in some cases where there aren’t); let me say this.  You have the right to have an opinion.  You have the right to be against me.  You have the right to say whatever you want.

However you don’t have the right to make up your own facts.  Sometimes opinion and facts are just one giant middle Venn Diagram sphere, other times they are pretty cut and dry.

This is a fact.  This is not Michael Brown.

michael-brown-with-gun-wad-of-cash-ferguson

That photo is of an Oregon teen named Joda Cain who was convicted of murder.  This person killed his grandmother in cold blood with the person in this photo.  He is NOT Michael Brown.

On my Facebook feed, people who I am somehow still friends with have been sharing this photo to discuss how Michael Brown wasn’t just “some innocent kid” and this shows that he was deserving to get shot and killed by a police officer.  This picture is supposed to enrage your one Aunt & Uncle who share chain emails about Obama killing your grandparents and those people who unprovoked complain about welfare or something.

These are shared by the people who go “don’t believe what the media tells you” and then posts something that is a complete lie.  A complete fabrication.

These are the people who complain about “the race card” which is my next little mention.  If you share this photo, you are the one playing the race card.  You just saw a picture of a black teen with a gun and immediately just label him Michael Brown.  You wonder why people play “the race card” (a word that was created by people who don’t want to discuss race so they can dismiss it while not seeming racist “I don’t care if you are black, white or purple!”)?

It’s because of shit like this.  Why do we need to have national dialogues on institutional racism?  This fucking shit.

This perpetuating of “thug culture” automatically equates justification of why someone deserves to die?  Look, I’m not talking about Michael Brown or Darren Wilson at this point.  But even if someone is the head of the Bloods, they don’t deserve to be gunned down by a police officer unless you know, something is happening.

Its funny how some people act all up in arms about Facebook or Flickr or Twitter using their photos without consent and then happily share this shit as justification.  We don’t want to be a society where your Facebook photos automatically define you.  Trust me, a lot of you people who got drunk at college parties underage and flip off the camera, don’t want that photo being shared if you are shot and killed.  Right?

But again, let’s talk about “the race card”.  When incidents that spark outrage such as the decision by a grand jury to not indict Officer Darren Wilson for killing Michael Brown; you get a lot of vitriol tossed.  However, you always see people go “SEE WHITE PEOPLE DIE TOO AND NO ONE CARES”.

That’s not the fucking point.  Micro racism exists everywhere.  This case is much larger than two people.  It’s the fact that those “white people” who die, seemingly see their accusers rightfully get thrown in jail.  When the roles are reversed…..the opposite tends to usually happen.

We are discussing racism, prejudice, sexism, ageism, whatever-ism at the macro level.  Where a lot of shit tends to go in favor of one group of people and fucked up for the rest.

But remember.  Stop sharing that fucking photo.  Just use Google for once.