Seriously?

Anyway, congratulations to the Canadian Team. I’m sure they’ll be thrilled to know that every drunken jackass in Toronto was singing on the subway this evening after the win.

Been up to my eyeballs in my semi-adopted faith this week, with two assignments for the Jewish Tribune. (Don’t tell my editor - Hi Norm! - that I’m working on his articles at the same time as writing this post. While we’re at it, let’s also pretend that I never said anything negative about Frank Dimant’s affection for the Human Rights Commission. *ahem*)

My week began with a snowstorm, which saw my friend Paige and I brave the elements to attend a great concert for Chai Lifeline staring Dudu Fisher (fans of Les Miz know exactly who I’m talking about), and ended with more snow and a trip to Queen’s Park, this time to hear MPP Peter Shurman talk about Israeli Apartheid Week at York University.

I hate Queen’s Park. I hate it with a passion. Not just because of the collection of corrupt poo-flinging circus monkeys it holds - I hate the whole idea of Queen’s Park. University Avenue is a moat around that place. It’s as if the government is saying (and let’s face it, they probably are) “Fuck the voters. Once we’re in here, we’re done with those scabby sons o’bitches!” There is no safe way to traverse University Avenue and arrive at the front door of Ontario’s seat of government. Then you get inside, and insult is heaped upon your potentially car-wrecked person. I’m a blogger. I’ve been one for six years. It may seem like a lowly hobby to some, but over the years I’ve been given the opportunity - been invited, in fact - to talk with our Prime Minister, several members of federal and provincial government, United States senators, congresspeople and other decision makers, and been within spitting distance of both the president and vice president. But I couldn’t ask a question at a Queen’s Park press conference to which I was personally invited? No, not in the press gallery, but in a separate media room. What? As a voting citizen of Ontario, I should have had the right to ask a question, let alone as a freelance journalist. Apparently a media pass is needed not just for the gallery, but for press conferences, too. Excuse me?

On the plus side, I did get to play with a Mac for the first time today. Whee! It’s like the cocaine they put in Big Macs (hmmm… mac… coincidence?). Now I want one. Oooh, also, a TTC employee said Good Morning to me randomly today. It was surreal. I thought I was on Candid Camera, or whatever cheap knock-off of it is playing on ABC these days.

Anyway, back to my articles. They pay me to write them, after all. Oh, speaking of which, thanks to everyone who bought Ali Hale’s Bloggers’ Guide to Effective Writing thorugh Girl on the Write. It’s a great resource, and by purchasing it through GOTW, I get a few coins tossed my way. Gracias.

Blogging from my BlackBerry. So no links - just random thoughts.

SeaWorld killing. Am I the only one who laughed? Seriously, think about it from the whale’s perspective. There he is doing soft-shoe minstrel shows for a bunch of crackers three times a day for fucking YEARS, and he finally snaps and kills an overseer. It’s like Roots or something! The whale oughta be given a medal and left the fuck alone.

I’m moving next week. My travails are finally coming to an end. About bloody time, too. The things I’ve seen in the last 6 months would be enough to make my readers’ hair stand on end and promptly fall out.

Gays - according to another beauty queen - should be put to death. Hmmm… There are quite a few stupid, misbehaving, irresponsible straight people I know who will die long before a lot of queers. Either way, the choices you make will usually decide the outcome.

Rachel Maddow is one of Martin Sheen’s sons. I’m sure of it.

Ok, I’m in a comfy bed tonight, so I’ll be asleep soon. I hope I dream of killer Killer Whales.

Blah. I feel like death. My throat is all swollen up. I’m hot and cold in waves. Curled up in bed sipping Neo Citron, I can’t be at CPAC down in Washington.

Thankfully I can watch it online.

My most searched article on Google is this one.

I wonder why.

Doing my thing. Thought you’d enjoy reading these posts by other bloggers:

Jay Currie on Homeschooling

My doctor’s office is not dissimilar

Advice for Redheads

Other stuff you should be reading daily:

Binks

Girl on the Write

With this whole “right wing blogging” thing. I’ve been at it for six years now, and I sometimes wonder if I’ve already said everything I have to say. I mean, how many more times can I say “Muslims want to kill us all for Allah” or “Socialism = bad”? Not to mention, given my current life, I can hardly hold my head up while chanting that latter statement.

I know I have new things I need to tell you all about, but I’m that annoying between place right now where I can’t really impart my message just yet.

So bear with me a little longer. For the next few weeks I will link to other people who have more to say than I do right now. And then sometime in March, I will tell you my story. It will come in bits and pieces, fits and starts. But I will tell it. Because RightGirl as a person has evolved a lot over the last half year, and RightGirl as a blogger needs to follow.

For now, go read some of these great bloggers:

Adrian talks about the global warming that isn’t

The Little Black Blog on social media and respect in the real world (not that I should talk, but maybe if Smith didn’t smoke so much weed, he wouldn’t eat so many damn Doritos. Just sayin’.)

Speaking of fat asses, should the state of MA be so involved in your child’s weight?

And finally, ME. The other place I post.

Girl on the Right is six years old today!

From my humble (read: teeny-tiny) apartment in central Scotland to the travails of my current living arrangements, there has been one contact: RightGirl. Through thick and thin, she has been there to give me voice for that which pisses me off, delights me, excites me or depresses me.

Through love and loss, marriage and separation, Scotland, Toronto and Kansas, Girl on the Right has been there.

I hope that for the six years since its inception, this blog has entertained you, angered you, made you think or made you act.

Many thanks to all my readers, as well as my contributors that have come and gone over the years.

Here’s to six more great years!

Today the head of the Amalgamated Transit Union, Bob Kinnear, told the Toronto public not to call TTC employees “lazy” or “overpaid“.

This sleeping ticket collector makes over $26 an hour

Perfect Valor, a documentary narrated by former Republican senator and 2008 presidential candidate Fred Thompson and produced by David Bossie and his colleagues at Citizens United Productions recounts the stories of a select group of marines and their families during the United States’ successful campaign to wrest control of the Iraqi city of Fallujah from insurgents in 2004.

The film provides an intimate look at the trials and tribulations that these men and women endured during this difficult time, all the way from training on a production lot in San Diego to their re-adjustment to life at home, and illustrates their tremendous courage throughout.

In Perfect Valor, we are introduced to selfless heroes, such as Dr. Richard Jadick, a naval commander and field surgeon who actually had the option not to be deployed to Iraq, but chose to serve his country despite the fact that his wife was about to give birth. Four days after his child was born, Jadick left for Iraq, and after having to endure the difficulties of having to race from the outskirts of Fallujah to troops in need of attention in the field, Jadick decided to set up a med station in the middle of the city. The location was soon more than just a medical facility to our mean and women in uniform as many of them saw it as a place of comfort where they could find respite from the stress of war.

The film also tells the story of Staff Sergeant Jeremiah Workman, a Navy Cross recipient who lost many friends in a battle with insurgent fighters. After his return home, Workman and his wife very candidly discuss his battle with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder and his attempted suicide, which was triggered by his own misplaced guilt over the death of his friends.

Jadick and Workman are just two of the amazing people we meet in Perfect Valor, and their stories and those of the others in the film are presented with an honest insight and a depth of humanity that is rarely appreciated in today’s world. Perfect Valor is deeply moving endeavor. This film provides a perspective that most of aren’t aware of, and of us who have only seen the war on television yet complain of “war fatigue” should set aside 90 minutes and watch it, because it might just give pause to such thoughts.

Last week I was sent out to do a gig for the Jewish Tribune. I was to attend the “graduation ceremony” for an 85 year old Holocaust survivor. See him get his diploma, snap some pics, take some notes.

Sometimes though, the unexpected happens. I get caught up in a story. I find myself clapping or crying - or in this case, both.

Torontonians can pick up a new copy of the Jewish Tribune tomorrow in selected areas around town. The rest of you can check this link on Wednesday or Thursday to read about this heroic war vet finally achieving that which we take so for granted.

Hello Brass Balls fans and haters. Big news - we’re off the air.

I decided it was time to move on to something new. Many of you are savvy to the fact that my life has gone through a major upheaval that took BBR off the air temporarily, and has only seen a few episodes recorded since the month of October.

Then this happened, and I knew it was time to move on. Life is too short to feel like crap all the time. What happened with Art Lindsey was nothing new.

Brass Balls Radio was a wildly popular show, and one I enjoyed recording. But I often felt like I needed the ghost of Jimmy Jackie (oops) Coogan to come hold me while I wept about the back-office antics. It was a difficult choice to hang up the mic, but one I needed to make. I’d put it off for far too long.

Don’t get me wrong: It wasn’t all bad. Most of it was smooth sailing. But when it was bad it was brutal.

So I’m leaving Take That Radio. I’ll probably come back with another podcast or vlog-cast of some description in the not-too-distant future. I need to focus on some more pressing issues first before fleshing out a new show.

I want to thank those who made Brass Balls Radio what it was - Mike Williams, Mark Steyn, Kathy Shaidle, all our guests, all our listeners… Too many people to list. We had 77 great episodes, and never expected the kind of response we received. Thank you all.

Look to the end of March or beginning of April for something new from me. It will be small, self-produced, raw, and earnest. It might not have all the bells and whistles of BBR, but it also won’t make my ulcer bleed.