You're gonna need it.
Today is the day we eat corned beef and cabbage and drink green beer. I always find it fascinating that, no matter what year it is, St. Patrick's Day always falls somewhere in the Lent season. For those of you unfamiliar with Lent, let me sum up. Lent represents the time Jesus spent in the desert in vigilance to a challenge put to him by Satan. It lasted 40 days and Jesus emerged victorious and ready to face the crowds on Palm Sunday. You can fill in the blanks as to what happened afterward.
What fascinates me is that Northern Ireland - the part of Ireland still governed by Great Britain - is predominantly Catholic. So most of the Irish immigrants that found their way to the shores of the US were and are Catholic. And St. Patrick's Day has become this huge drinking holiday celebrated all over the states (I don't know about Ireland so I can't speak to it.) All during the Lent season where it is traditional in the Catholic religion to give up something you enjoy for 40 days to remember all that Jesus gave up. A kind of homage, if you will.
Now, St. Patrick was a man who chased the snakes, toads, and frogs (the man must have had a severe phobia of reptiles and amphibians) from Erin. Some historians have postulated this to mean he drove out the pagan and druids - the naturalist folk - that lived on the Emerald Isle. Most likely this means he converted a bunch of folk and this new religion spread. I believe we can agree that the reptile expulsion is colorful imagery to get the point across in stories.
So the hero of the Irish people who rescued them from the eternal damnation of being holistic has been transformed into a brew peddling drunk. Kind of like Santa for the bar set. And all during the most holy and important seasons of Catholicism - Lent. It is the season of atonement unlike Advent, which is the season of anticipation and last minute goodness for the kiddies that don't want coal instead of presents.
I can speak on the drunks aspect of the holiday as one of my memories is being in eighth grade in Murphy's Bar on St. Pat's, after school (St. Patrick's School - can we draw a conclusion?) Several parents and educators from the school met in the bar to drink green beer for a couple of hours after school. And I was with them, drinking Pepsis. No one else brought an impressionable teenage kid. I was allowed because all of these people considered me a younger adult. A couple of times someone tried to buy me a round, which I didn't want. Have you seen green beer? Yuck! Don't get me wrong; I remember the day fondly and, in fact, felt kind of special to be the only one in my school and class to be included with the adults. Maybe they knew I wouldn't say a word to anyone the next day (which I didn't.)
My other real knowledge of drunks comes from my Alma Mater (college.) I went to an engineering school and the patron Saint of Engineers is, you guessed it, good ol' St. Pat. They had a beautiful, huge statue of him in the lobby of the library. Which did nothing to foreshadow the events to come in March. For starters our school had Spring Break and St. Pat's Break - which threw off the calendars for all the other state schools. St. Pat's started on Wednesday - right after the last class though many, many students just didn't bother to show up. All but one year I, like half the students in the school, evacuated town. This worked out as leaving students were replaced by students from other schools that easily doubled the school's population. One year I had the misfortune of staying. I had to work that weekend on a project that was due the next week.
There is nothing like trying to dodge drunks for four days. Daytime activities were okay, a parade, some games, and contests. Then they brought out Alice, a tank of muck made up by the St. Pat board reps (all Greek.) Baby reps (first year board members) were thrown into this pool of puke, beer, and god knows what else. I have researched this and Alice is apparently NOT a regular feature of other St. Patrick celebrations. There was the snake hunt (I saved one), in which pledges spent a semester and a half carving beautiful shillelaghs only to destroy them while some fraternity jerk throws rubber, yes, RUBBER snakes onto the carefully kept lawns of the courtyard and instructs him to, “Get the snake FRESHMAN. GET IT. GET IT. BEAT IT TO DEATH. HIT IT. HIT IT. PICK IT UP. NOW BITE IT’S HEAD OFF.”
ANIMAL HOUSE antics had nothing on our St. Pat’s holiday. The members of Delta House wouldn’t have survived. They stopped measuring our school’s drinking by kegs and started counting beer trucks. And no, I don’t say this with pride, which is why I am not stating the school name.
So now St. Pat’s is upon us, again, this time on a Friday, which means about noon, or beer-thirty, some workers will be leaving work early to immerse themselves in celebration. And I get to dodge them in traffic on the way home. Fun times will be had by all. And all this during Lent, well, probably as a break from Lent. After all atonement is a bitch and we are all only human.
Germantown Community Theater. Showings March 3rd – 19th, Thursday – Saturday at 8 pm. Sunday performances are at 2:30 PM only. It’s $14 - $16 for a ticket. Get off your ass and go see this performance. If you can’t make it to Tennessee to see these marvelous performers, look for it in your area.
Words fail me. William Shakespeare, aka The Bard, invented something like 1500 words during his career as a playwright. This compilation of his works is so fantastic I find writing a simple description to be bloody impossible – at least in the limited area a review allows.
In theater as with TV, writing, and art, there is an unwritten rule not to break the fourth wall. This is the wall that separates the performance or piece from the audience in order that the audience may experience the theater without actually being a part of the action. And Shakespeare’s plays are usually presented in such a fashion.
Which is why this play (or set of plays) is so mind-blowing and hilarious. The fourth wall no longer exists. The audience is as much a member of the production as the four talented players on the stage. And the players and playwrights know the Bard, very, very, well. They are such good friends with him they call him by his nickname, Sweet.
To present this piece, I would favor you with some highlights. I even got out my pen and my little notepad and in the half-light of the stage took notes. But such an act was in vain. The whole damn play was the highlight. The Othello Rap, Gladiator Chef, HAMLET IN REVERSE. Oh, and prolific use of the finger. I felt like I was riding a roller coaster that only sped up with every turn and I couldn’t fasten my belt.
The players of ROSENCRANTZ AND GUILDENSTERN ARE DEAD were never so entertaining. Much like those traveling actors living out of a wagon, the stage lies empty but for a cart of props, costumes, and . . . . what’s this? Techno music? The performance depends on the talents of the players and they do not disappoint. Far from it.
Once I read the program (yes, even the program is hilarious) I knew I was in for a treat. The opening introduction of the plays of the Bard as well as a brief, if slightly skewed, biography of Willy himself to the final throes of laughter at the end (who knew tragedy could be so comical?), one laugh succeeded another and another. Each one belched out longer and harder than the first. And I paid for it in the end. My cheeks, sides, and mouth hurt so hard from all the belly laughs I had a hard time falling asleep.
So thank you Marques W. Brown, Steven Gary, Tony Isbell, Henry A. MacDaniel, and Tobias Q. Farthington (excellent stunt work btw) the gut splitting performances. Also thanks to Jess Borgeson, Adam Long, and Daniel Singer. I bow humbly to playwrights who know and love The Bard so well to write such a wonderful play about his works. My high school English teacher, Mrs. Bayer, would love it.
Because of my lack of tolerance for bullshit, I have quit yet another club. Yes, yes. Because I actually expected to get value of some sort for my payment of $35 or, at least, when two non-paying clingers are voted out, to not invite them to the club events.
The new current administration has decided to make all such events open to the public in the hopes of getting new members. Hey, I understand that. But when you have people that know about the implementation of dues, don't pay, and still show up to the events and claiming to be part of the club, that's where I am lost. Add in all the underhanded tricks to get the new prez into power and you see where my patience is waning.
The only events not open to the public are the little member get togethers where they talk about non-attending members behind their backs. Well, I can get together with my friends and do that for free.
What bothers me the most is while my husband and I had the most problems with these members, we were not the only ones wanting them out. Other members voiced concerns especially over them not paying dues. The outgoing administration was also aware of the personal problems my husband and I had with them. So to invite them to events makes me think, well, because I spoke my mind, I am no longer welcome.
You know, there is a much less sneaky way of pushing me out of the club. Ask me to leave. To my face or in a PM where you list the problems you are having with me. Let me know. Don't try to edit something I put on my own site (or in my sig for that matter) and if something bothers you about what I wrote, don't get childish and make demands, ask me about it. Because there is the possibility that what I wrote has nothing to do with you, just like my sig. But if you jump down my throat, I'll have a problem with you and write about it.
I am a WRITER it's what I do! I'm not going to sully my fiction stories with making you a bad guy where you'll have to guess. I'm waaaaaay to honest and upfront for that. I will write a rant in my blog.
And guess what, it's a rant. A bunch of hot air issuing forth because I'm pissed and I want someone other than my husband to hear about it. Do you know how many people read this blog regularly? FOUR, four people.
So I have made a fool of you and the club in front of four people, two you don't know and will never meet. This is much better than my PMing individual members or posting it in the club forum where all 16 dues paying members and lots of others in that community could see it.
You accuse me of "secret PMs?" Some things:
1) I asked five people in person how they voted.
2) You had to read someone else's PMs to get that idea, so I guess privacy is out.
3) You are so ill suited to this position you couldn't even run your own campaign. You had the leaving president be your campaign manager. Additionally you and the current administration broke the standing guideline about sock puppets with Sal's Hairdresser and Sal's Hairpin. If any of the other candidates had tried that, we would have been called down. So I guess when you're buddy-buddy with the leaving president, rules don't apply.
So because of this unfair treatment, Joe and I have left. If you were planning on us to be around to keep the unwanted unpaying members company, well, you'll have to deal with that on your own. Don't expect other people to take up our slack.
Chock this one up to a hard lesson to learn. It’s hard to realize who your real friends are. But the good thing is, once you find them, they’re yours for life. So here’s a quick definition for those unfamiliar with real friends.
Real friends accept you for who you are and don’t try to change you. They try to help you even when you don’t want to listen.
Real friends consider your worries their priority. They give support when something makes you afraid or annoyed and try to help you overcome it.
Real friends don’t sit in judgment of you. There are enough assholes in the world that are more than happy to do that in the guise of a friend.
Real friends use words to reach you, not to get a deeper dig. They accept you for your flaws and realize that every once in a while you trip up.
Real friends accept your decisions and give you their loyalty, even if it pits them against others. This is especially hard in a small group where pushing someone to split loyalties will cause more harm than good.
Real friends don’t take advantage of a person’s good nature all the while stabbing them in the back. Favors aren’t counted because they are not necessary. Not so with the users of this world.
Real friends don’t deliberately say something mean to get their point across. They choose their words more carefully.
Real friends accept that a friend has every right to speak his or her mind without threat of retaliation. That everyone is entitled to their opinions even if they are not particularly popular.
Real friends don’t smile to your face then talk behind your back once your leave. They also do not put mutual friends in the awkward situation of having to listen to it.
Real friends like you for your strengths and love you for your flaws.
No association, no matter how well intended, is worth breaking the bonds of friendship. A person has the right to speak their mind about injustice and high-handed malarkey and not be attacked for speaking that opinion in her own forum.
This is for Nikki, Quinn, Heartless, and Blaze. I love you all!
Yes, I am still pissed about the SMT’s childish president contacting via PM instead of email and attempting to punish me for expressing my thoughts on the election. A president should be able to take any criticism of his group in stride. I was attempting to save you the indignity of being propositioned by a couple you defined in not so complimentary terms. But, if what you want in your club are two freeloaders who refused contribute in positive terms and only exist to irritate others, fine.
I quit the club. I, a dues paying member, one of the first two people to pony up when this issue was decided on, have received nothing for my efforts. I have paid to hang with what I thought were friends. I would have been happy to chip in for anything as no one should be solely responsible for floating the club financially.
However, with the implementation of dues, dues paying members should get something more than non-paying freeloaders. We have received nothing. Every event held has been open to the public with the exceptions of a meeting to vote out non-paying clingers and the Christmas/Inaugaration/Retirement party where the losers were expected to show up and be magnanimous if they wanted to be involved in the holiday season with this club. What bad taste. I mean, after an election, you don’t force the other candidates to show up and kiss the competitions ass in front of everyone. It should be enough to wish them luck at the beginning and congratulations at the end without it being a public spectacle.
I will remind you it was you and your campaign manager that made the election a big deal. The rest of the members showed very little interest. But, because the mediocrity of this club is such a high priority to the two of you, feelings got hurt.
Hence the cancellation of “Vaderpalooza.” Now, I will state my case, an action long overdue. When I offered our home and land for the Saga Campout, it was my understanding it would just be the members, some friends from Arkansas and, maybe some family. So, imagine my surprise when I see a post on the Southeast Community board inviting all the sister fanforces to this event. The person whose idea this was decided without consulting I or my husband to extend our “hospitality” to these people.
Well I found something out. I found out this person was pissed that a fan force got a write for a big screen but his, which was bigger, got no mention. So, of course, we now have to prove, all 16 of us dues paying members – four shich actually get anything done, that we are the best fanforce. So when I told him I was pissed at his inviting these strangers without my knowledge so he could some off, I was pretty much told that I had an inhospitable nature. Never mind that I or my husband were never consulted. We were the bad guys because “Vaderpalooza” was supposed to be a big showpiece. But this stray fact was only known to the ex- and present presidents. Apparently the rest of us were expected to do without question. It was his “vision” after all and he founded the club.
Needless to say, I was pissed. And I told him so. Through PMs, keeping it off the board. And, naturally when the present president got involved, I was wrong. It didn’t matter that it was our land, our home, our time, our money, and we were in the dark, I was wrong. So I told the visionary no. Find somewhere else. Our idea was a saga sleepover ONLY for dues paying members.
This concept that dues paying members besides parties at someone’s house seems to baffle the current administration. And they are going to be nice. They are lowering dues by five or ten dollars for the next go around. Great, so I save on paying to hang out with my friends.
It was never the money, it was the fact that the people who paid the dues proved they cared about the club. People who didn’t obviously don’t. And by embracing freeloaders, you pretty much say, “Fuck All the Dues Paying Members.”
Well, Fuck You Sal and your cohorts. I was so sick of the petty bullshit by the end of the election, I didn’t care who won. I did notice, however, some of the board-adopted guidelines went lax in your favor. It was my understanding that sock puppets had to ID themselves but your supports could remain safely anonymous. That would be dirty pool. Having the leaving president organize your election was inappropriate. You shouldn’t have asked and he should have said no, particularly after begging your opponent to run when he wanted to keep a third party from entering the race.
He asked me to run for prez, I guess when you turned him down the first time, then promptly embraced your running mate after expressing to my husband he didn’t trust her with money. I couldn’t see why. I thought she was trustworthy.
Don’t worry, I now see what this group is really about, you and your master trying to manipulate the members into bolstering your egos. Only now your master has other interests and you finally feel the pressures of the office. Since you have nothing planned for us, I can only assume you are lonely at the top.
Yes, I have a problem with people who hang and don’t contribute. I have a problem with a couple who had decided that Joe and I were to be their sex toys (at this point, I don’t care if you believe me). I also have a problem with an administration that will not listen to the concerns of any of its members because they may rock the boat. If you keep things status quo, the boat is going to sink.
The biggest thing I have a problem with is being useful enough to not only hem the goods but hock the goods for you and then have you spit in my face because I deign to actually vocals my feelings on my blog that I pay for.
You can choose or not to read it. To tell the truth I was a bit surprised you did as I have received no indication you had before this. But to tell me to edit my words in my space, you are out of line. You’re sick of me, fine, I’m out of the club. But I am disgusted and humiliated that I could even have been associated with you. You are the worst thing to happen to the SMT and it will collapse because of you.