Wednesday, March 17, 2010
A model American
I took this video featured above at the 9/12 March on Washington back in September of 2009. I have my own opinions, but this day was not a republican thing. It was not a democratic thing. It was not even a white thing, or a black thing, or a raging protest kind of thing. This was an American thing. But I digress. Onward to the model American.
My mother, Sharon Bergstein, is an avid Glenn Beck fan (poor thing). She and my father just think he is one hell of a guy.
Though they might be clinically insane, they are Americans, and the greatest parents in the world. (Most people would agree that they're more deserving of winning the Nobel Peace Prize than Obama was). These two things combined have always been good enough for me.
My mom wrote this e-mail to Mr. Beck on March 26, 2009.
Dear Glenn,
In the movie Remember the Titans, there is a quote: "Attitude reflects leadership."
No wonder the American people have a bad, confused and outraged attitude! There is NO clear leadership in this country. It's amazing to me that we are witnessing this government destroying everything OUR country was founded on. I want to go out and scream! I feel if "We The People" don't do something soon to let our voices be heard, we will be doomed to have our Constitution pulled out from under us.
Here is my suggestion. Remember after 9/11 when people had flags on their cars? Everywhere I went I felt we were united because millions of cars had the American flag displayed. Why not have a flag for all the millions of people who have had enough of the government and are sick and tired of their liberties being invaded by a government who cares more about their EGOs (Easing God Out), then the people they are there to represent! We get flags to everyone who wants to display them on their car and pick a week to have everyone work together to show in public -in all corners and across the nation- that we are MAD AS HELL, AND WE'RE NOT GOING TO TAKE IT ANYMORE! Make the flag yellow and it can say, "WE THE PEOPLE...COUNT!" The flag needs to have a strong statement, maybe not mine, so come up with something you think can be understood by all who see it.
I appreciate your courage and honesty on your Fox show at 5:00 p.m. I watch every day and hey, I am also a friend of Bill W. I've known Bill for over 14 years!
Here is the 12-Step Recovery Plan our GOVERNMENT lives by:
1. We admitted we are powerless over our EGOs and we are determined to make all Americans lives unmanageable.
2. Came to believe there is no power greater than the government and the American people are the ones who are insane.
3. Made a decision to turn your will and your lives over to the care of the government as the government understands it.
4. No need to make a moral inventory, because we the government are all immoral.
5. We the government can't even admit to ourselves the exact nature of our wrongs. Oh...that's right we don't have ANY!
6. Since we have NO character, we have NO defects.
7. No shortcomings either. And by the way... what does that mean?
8. Made a list of all people we harmed and well, this will be a ten year project because the list is way too long. And besides... we're not willing to make amends!
9. Made direct amends except when to do so would injure others. Wait, WHAT?... Don't look at me!... HE did it!
10. Continued to take government inventory -and yep!- We are still never wrong!
11. Sought through lies and deception to improve our conscious contact with each other (government), knowing we are screwing the American people. But hey, who cares. We have the power to carry it out!
12. Having destroyed the Constitution as the result of these steps, we practice the principals of SOCIALISM in ALL our affairs.
Maybe the government needs to study the 12 steps of AA. They are full of principle, conviction, and tradition. We know how to SAY WHAT WE MEAN AND MEAN WHAT WE SAY! Glenn- keep up the great reporting. Thank GOD for you and Fox. You make sure we are NEVER in the DARK! God Bless you, and GOD BLESS AMERICA. She sure as hell is going to need it!
Regards,
Sharon Bergstein
On Monday, March 15, 2009, my mom called in and spoke to Glenn Beck on his morning radio show. She was only on for a short time, but a lot of what she said in her letter one year ago are her same convictions today. My mother is a woman of her convictions. (It's all her fault that I'll probably grow up to be somebody one day). She and my father went to Washington D.C. to protest at Capitol Hill on Tuesday, and CNN cameras were all over her as she told some sleazy politician off. Today, a photograph of her holding a sign that reads, "No Child Left a Dime" from the protest at Obama's Lehigh Carbon Community College (LCCC) speech was featured on Sarah Palin's blog and possibly hundreds of other websites. I've added the link:
http://blogs.usatoday.com/oped/2010/02/column-why-im-speaking-at-tea-party-convention-.html
People often ask me, "What does your mom do?" I tell them, "She's an American."
Your mom was right. 10 reasons you're not likely to find "the one" in a bar.
I adapted the previous story into an assignment for my humor class. This is the finished product:
I love games, but the only game I am not especially fond of is the dating game.
“You’re never going to meet someone worth dating in a bar,” is the way my mother always put it. The saying implies that decent people don’t go to bars. "But, I go to bars, mother!"
So in the past few months I’ve put on my best heels and my brightest lipgloss more times than my body is telling me it can handle and I’ve gone out to put decency to the test.
The guys I have met in the last several months have really made me question the true meaning of decency. That, or my picker is broken. Or I have a bum magnet. Even better- an ultramagnetic bum magnet.
If your ultramagnetic bum magnet seems to be in full working order when you go out for a night on the town, here are 10 indicators (sadly for me, all from personal experience) to help you ward off the stinkers:
-You can’t understand the compliment he just gave you because he’s slurring his words through his Jim Beam breath.
-He offers to buy you a drink, but asks if you wouldn’t mind sharing it. Oh, and would you mind spotting him a couple of bucks, too?
-One of the first things he tells you about himself is that he goes tanning every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.
-Then he tells you that his mother is his favorite person in all the world and they talk –on average- five times a day.
-Then he tells you that his last relationship ended earlier that same evening.
-He answers, “Ya know, like getting high and chillin’ with my bros and playing CODMW2,” when you ask him what his hobbies are.
-He switched from Jim Beam to Heineken, and now he's belching.
-He's been staring at your breasts for so long that he could probably guess your bra size.
-He tells you he's going to the bathroom and you spot him across the bar flirting with another girl.
-When the two of you go outside to get some air he asks if you wouldn't mind "covering" for him while he simultaneously tries to smoke a cigarette and pee on the side of the building.
So here you are, ten signs that he is not, he is never going to be, (and your mother would likely disown you if you that that he was) "the one."
I am not a heartbroken, bitter, single, always complaining about how all guys are chauvinistic pigs kind of girl. I like guys. But it took me five months, three broken pairs of heels, one tube of lipgloss, and about a week's paycheck to realize that it is highly unlikely that you’re going to meet "the one" in a bar.
Ladies, save your mother the worry of you dating the next best schmuck and go see a movie with the girls instead.
I love games, but the only game I am not especially fond of is the dating game.
“You’re never going to meet someone worth dating in a bar,” is the way my mother always put it. The saying implies that decent people don’t go to bars. "But, I go to bars, mother!"
So in the past few months I’ve put on my best heels and my brightest lipgloss more times than my body is telling me it can handle and I’ve gone out to put decency to the test.
The guys I have met in the last several months have really made me question the true meaning of decency. That, or my picker is broken. Or I have a bum magnet. Even better- an ultramagnetic bum magnet.
If your ultramagnetic bum magnet seems to be in full working order when you go out for a night on the town, here are 10 indicators (sadly for me, all from personal experience) to help you ward off the stinkers:
-You can’t understand the compliment he just gave you because he’s slurring his words through his Jim Beam breath.
-He offers to buy you a drink, but asks if you wouldn’t mind sharing it. Oh, and would you mind spotting him a couple of bucks, too?
-One of the first things he tells you about himself is that he goes tanning every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.
-Then he tells you that his mother is his favorite person in all the world and they talk –on average- five times a day.
-Then he tells you that his last relationship ended earlier that same evening.
-He answers, “Ya know, like getting high and chillin’ with my bros and playing CODMW2,” when you ask him what his hobbies are.
-He switched from Jim Beam to Heineken, and now he's belching.
-He's been staring at your breasts for so long that he could probably guess your bra size.
-He tells you he's going to the bathroom and you spot him across the bar flirting with another girl.
-When the two of you go outside to get some air he asks if you wouldn't mind "covering" for him while he simultaneously tries to smoke a cigarette and pee on the side of the building.
So here you are, ten signs that he is not, he is never going to be, (and your mother would likely disown you if you that that he was) "the one."
I am not a heartbroken, bitter, single, always complaining about how all guys are chauvinistic pigs kind of girl. I like guys. But it took me five months, three broken pairs of heels, one tube of lipgloss, and about a week's paycheck to realize that it is highly unlikely that you’re going to meet "the one" in a bar.
Ladies, save your mother the worry of you dating the next best schmuck and go see a movie with the girls instead.
Monday, March 1, 2010
From the gentlemen in this world...
Now that I am in my fourth of what will be five years at Temple University, I suppose it is time for me as a major in political science and journalism to put my blogging skills to use and join the blogosphere.
Where do I begin? Well, I am currently taking a class on writing humor, so I will start with a rather recent story.
I love games. I like watching sports, and I especially like going to sporting events. I like card games, board games, video games, puzzles, brainteasers, and the like.
The only game that I have found I am not especially fond of is the dating game.
For a long time I called myself a serial monogamist for having been in two long-term relationships during a period of about seven years. After taking some time to heal from a difficult breakup, I decided to see what this dating thing was all about.
“You’re never going to meet someone worth dating in a bar,” is the way a variation of the saying goes, but I always felt the statement to be unfair. The saying implies that decent people don’t go to bars. And well, I go to bars, so now the saying can’t be true. So in the past few months I’ve put on my best heels and my brightest lipgloss more times than my body is telling me it can handle and I’ve gone out to put decency to the test.
I am not a heartbroken, bitter, single, always complaining about how all guys are jerks kind of girl. In fact, I like guys, and I like relationships. But the stories I could tell about the guys I have met in the last several months make me question the true meaning of decency. That, or my picker is broken. Or I have a bum magnet. Even better- an ultra-magnetic bum magnet.
I’ll save the saga of dating stories for a chapter in a novel I hope to one day write, but this most recent dating escapade really just did it for me. I hate cliché sayings like, “This one was the icing on the cake,” but why not; This was the icing on the cake.
I make some extra money bartending one night a week at a bar in Philadelphia. Three weeks back this shockingly handsome guy comes walking in and orders a beer. The Canada v. Switzerland hockey game brings him into the bar, and he ends up telling me that he is taking his best friends girlfriend out for a few drinks since his buddy would be playing poker all night. What a good friend. The bar was slow so I got to spend some time talking to him, and after giving him my number (which until then I had yet to give my number out at work), he leaves as the bar closes and texts me on the way home.
I take a girlfriend with me to meet him and two of his friends at a bar the following night and we have a great time. I don’t hear from him until the middle of the following week, but we made plans to meet again once the weekend came around. We have a nice time again at another bar, though I wasn’t under the impression that he was really very interested in seeing me for I don’t know, let’s say, a date.
I text him the following day to see if he’d made it home safe with his friends, and he responds and asks me what I am doing for the evening, to which I reply my friends and I hadn’t yet decided. I ask him what he is doing and I don’t get a response for the entire night. I’ve come up with two possibile reasons for this: One, he either thinks I have no plans yet because he thinks I am hoping he will make plans with me, or two, he thinks that if he tells me where he is going I will show up there. One can only speculate.
I go out with my friends as I had been planning, and we have a fabolous night. As the night comes to an end, we’re walking down the street to hail a cab and there he is, standing on the sidewalk with two of his friends and a few girls. Perfect. I stroll on over and give a casual, “Fancy seeing you here,” to which he replies,
“Uhh, I was just going to go pee on this building.”
And yes, he really truly did say that. Priceless.
I’m not so much as sad that he lacked the common decency to respond to a simple text message as I am for the quality of person that I was interested in investing my time into. He’s a few years older than I, so now I’m just really naïve in that I’d been thinking I’d met some mature older guy. What were the chances that I would end up running into him in a city as big as Philadelphia? I would have thought they were slim. But the chances that I would get a line like “Uhh, I was just going to go pee on this building,” had to have been rather high, and the fact that he told me he goes tanning on a regular basis should have been the first indicator. My picker is definitely broken.
I still think the statement, “You’re never going to meet a decent person in a bar,” is rather unfair, but as a result of my experiences in recent months, I’d argue that you’re not likely to meet a decent person -worth dating- in a bar.
Wondering what happened to the guy, are you? Funny, me too. Though I am not interested in another thing he has to say, I have yet to hear from him anyway. Oh, the indecency of it all.
“Well, if I ever need to get rid of a girl, at least I now know what to say,” says my best guy friend as I give my roommates and friends the next-day version of the story over breakfast. “Oh and Sarah,” he continues, “From the gentlemen in this world: We’re sorry.”
Where do I begin? Well, I am currently taking a class on writing humor, so I will start with a rather recent story.
I love games. I like watching sports, and I especially like going to sporting events. I like card games, board games, video games, puzzles, brainteasers, and the like.
The only game that I have found I am not especially fond of is the dating game.
For a long time I called myself a serial monogamist for having been in two long-term relationships during a period of about seven years. After taking some time to heal from a difficult breakup, I decided to see what this dating thing was all about.
“You’re never going to meet someone worth dating in a bar,” is the way a variation of the saying goes, but I always felt the statement to be unfair. The saying implies that decent people don’t go to bars. And well, I go to bars, so now the saying can’t be true. So in the past few months I’ve put on my best heels and my brightest lipgloss more times than my body is telling me it can handle and I’ve gone out to put decency to the test.
I am not a heartbroken, bitter, single, always complaining about how all guys are jerks kind of girl. In fact, I like guys, and I like relationships. But the stories I could tell about the guys I have met in the last several months make me question the true meaning of decency. That, or my picker is broken. Or I have a bum magnet. Even better- an ultra-magnetic bum magnet.
I’ll save the saga of dating stories for a chapter in a novel I hope to one day write, but this most recent dating escapade really just did it for me. I hate cliché sayings like, “This one was the icing on the cake,” but why not; This was the icing on the cake.
I make some extra money bartending one night a week at a bar in Philadelphia. Three weeks back this shockingly handsome guy comes walking in and orders a beer. The Canada v. Switzerland hockey game brings him into the bar, and he ends up telling me that he is taking his best friends girlfriend out for a few drinks since his buddy would be playing poker all night. What a good friend. The bar was slow so I got to spend some time talking to him, and after giving him my number (which until then I had yet to give my number out at work), he leaves as the bar closes and texts me on the way home.
I take a girlfriend with me to meet him and two of his friends at a bar the following night and we have a great time. I don’t hear from him until the middle of the following week, but we made plans to meet again once the weekend came around. We have a nice time again at another bar, though I wasn’t under the impression that he was really very interested in seeing me for I don’t know, let’s say, a date.
I text him the following day to see if he’d made it home safe with his friends, and he responds and asks me what I am doing for the evening, to which I reply my friends and I hadn’t yet decided. I ask him what he is doing and I don’t get a response for the entire night. I’ve come up with two possibile reasons for this: One, he either thinks I have no plans yet because he thinks I am hoping he will make plans with me, or two, he thinks that if he tells me where he is going I will show up there. One can only speculate.
I go out with my friends as I had been planning, and we have a fabolous night. As the night comes to an end, we’re walking down the street to hail a cab and there he is, standing on the sidewalk with two of his friends and a few girls. Perfect. I stroll on over and give a casual, “Fancy seeing you here,” to which he replies,
“Uhh, I was just going to go pee on this building.”
And yes, he really truly did say that. Priceless.
I’m not so much as sad that he lacked the common decency to respond to a simple text message as I am for the quality of person that I was interested in investing my time into. He’s a few years older than I, so now I’m just really naïve in that I’d been thinking I’d met some mature older guy. What were the chances that I would end up running into him in a city as big as Philadelphia? I would have thought they were slim. But the chances that I would get a line like “Uhh, I was just going to go pee on this building,” had to have been rather high, and the fact that he told me he goes tanning on a regular basis should have been the first indicator. My picker is definitely broken.
I still think the statement, “You’re never going to meet a decent person in a bar,” is rather unfair, but as a result of my experiences in recent months, I’d argue that you’re not likely to meet a decent person -worth dating- in a bar.
Wondering what happened to the guy, are you? Funny, me too. Though I am not interested in another thing he has to say, I have yet to hear from him anyway. Oh, the indecency of it all.
“Well, if I ever need to get rid of a girl, at least I now know what to say,” says my best guy friend as I give my roommates and friends the next-day version of the story over breakfast. “Oh and Sarah,” he continues, “From the gentlemen in this world: We’re sorry.”
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