Thursday, December 3, 2015

injaynesworld "Then and Now..."

As a child, I recall a woman coming to our door one evening collecting money for the poor. I pushed my way in front of my mother who stood in the open doorway. Even at seven years old, the thought of someone not having enough to meet their basic needs was crushing to me.  I ran to my room, got my piggy bank and would have handed over my entire savings of $3.00 in mostly dimes, nickels and pennies, had my mother not stopped me.  I don’t remember what Mom gave her, but the image of that woman standing there is still very vivid in my mind.  That may have been the day I became a “bleeding-heart liberal.”

We were a blue-collar family. My step-father worked for the town’s public works department, and his job supported four of us.  Ours was a two-bedroom, one-bath, stucco house in a neighborhood of mostly the same. While we were not wealthy by any means, we had more than some. There was a family in our neighborhood who we gave my school dresses to once I’d outgrown them. They were really the only “poor” family I knew, but even they had a house to live in.  

Eisenhower was president, the highest tax rate was 90%, unions were strong, and the country had never been more prosperous. Those folks in the 90% bracket were mostly the stuff of movies to the rest of us, but sometimes my family would pile into our old green Hudson and cruise the rich neighborhood to gaze at all the mansions.  Nobody begrudged them their wealth.  It gave us something to strive for.  It was a society where your birth status took a back seat to your dreams, and those “poor” kids who wore my hand-me-down dresses needed only a willingness to work for those dreams in order to achieve them.  I miss that America. 

At ten years old, I watched JFK receive the Democratic nomination for president on our small, black-and-white TV.  I could barely contain my excitement at the sight of this vibrant, young, inspiring man and his beautiful wife. Proudly wearing a plastic JFK-for-President hat that caused sweat to drip down my forehead and into my eyes, I peddled my blue Schwinn around the block, knocking on doors and handing out campaign literature.  For the first time in my life, I felt a part of something bigger than myself.  I felt like I could affect change.  When President Kennedy said “Ask not what your country can do for you. Ask what you can do for your country,” it resonated with us because, despite our differences, we were all Americans first. 

Today, most of those mansion-filled neighborhoods that I drove through as a child have gates walling them off from the rest of us, and gone from our collective consciousness seems to be the notion that when we all have an equal opportunity to succeed our country succeeds.  Given an even playing field, Americans are some of the hardest-working folks on the planet. 

Given an even playing field…

It’s not a coincidence that we’re seeing a more violent society as growing numbers of people see the deck irrefutably stacked against them. With the assault that has taken place on the middle class, and the stress so many families are experiencing as they struggle just to survive, I wonder how many of today’s children feel inspired to make a difference, how many still dare to dream. Or are we losing another generation to hopelessness?

As for me, I’m still that seven-year-old who believes everyone should have enough.

Sunday, November 8, 2015

injaynesworld it's the "Sunday Recap..."

Back!  By no demand whatsoever…


Dear Jeb, please withdraw from your sad little run for the presidency.  It’s truly painful to watch you sink lower and lower on the food chain with every passing day.  Your latest slogan, “Jeb Can Fix It,” was roadkill even before the pre-school signage went up.  If only you’d stayed out of the public eye after Florida, we all could have continued in our delusion that you were the smart brother.  Alas, some things are just not fixable.


Christ on a Cup!

Dear Incensed Christians, God does not give one single crap about Starbucks’ choice of plain red holiday coffee cups this year, so why all the outrage?  “Starbucks is cleansing Christianity from Christmas!”  Seriously?   It’s not like in past years we’ve been served our gingerbread lattes in cups bearing a Nativity scene.  How is a winking snowman or a sledding dog more Christ-like?  Your silliness is an embarrassment to serious Christians.  You know, the ones who hold Christ in their heart and not on a cup. 


Keystone Pipeline a Done Deal

And by “done deal” I mean that deal is done the hell over, baby.  The idea was always a big goose egg for the U.S.  Sure there would have been temporary jobs building the pipeline, and probably a lot more jobs cleaning up after the destructive spills that were sure to follow, but the oil itself was always going to be shipped and sold overseas.  So frack you, oil lobby. 


There’s a New Sheriff in Town

Let's hear it for hunky new Canadian Prime Minister Justin Trudeau who, when asked why his cabinet was comprised of 50% women, replied, "Because it’s 2015."  

Where do I sign up?  


Happy Endings

If, like me, you were one of those folks sobbing at the photo of Lana, “the saddest dog in the world” that went viral recently, you’ll be happy to know that Lana has been placed in a foster home where she will receive all the training she needs to integrate into a loving fur-ever home soon.  



And finally, here it is.  Your moment of smut…

Monday, October 19, 2015

injaynesworld it's "A Ghost Story..."

As you believe, so it shall be unto you - Jesus

Ghosts don’t care if you believe in them or not, but they’re not likely to appear to those who don’t.   

The “supernatural” was instilled in me early on when, as a highly-impressionable young child, I was enrolled in Catholic school where I was exposed to religious beliefs that challenged rational thought and demanded to be accepted on faith alone.  At a time when make believe is such a large part of a child’s life, it was all very confusing. 

The central doctrine of Christianity is the Resurrection, which begs the question:  Once you accept the story of Jesus rising from the dead, is it such a great leap to believe that our departed loved ones are able to reach out to us from the beyond, as well?  Is the Resurrection not a lesson in life everlasting? 

My mother spoke to me of guardian angels all my life, believed in them and passed that belief onto me.  She died when I was just 23 and for several years thereafter, I continued to feel her presence around me.  There were phone calls from her in the night.  I could hear the ring of the phone, feel my hand fumble for the receiver, perceive the darkness of the bedroom.  She would assure me, in a voice that was as clear and present as if she were alive, that she was all right and nearby.  Then one morning I awoke to see the figure of a person at the end of my bed.  Though it was only particles of light and energy, I knew it was my mother coming to say good-bye.  The figure dissolved downward and disappeared, and I’ve never felt my mother’s presence around me again. 

In my twenties, searching for answers to this mystery called life that I was attempting to slog my way through, I was given a book called “The Nature of Personal Reality – A Seth Book.”  Seth is a spirit entity – a ghost, if you will – that speaks through the author, Jane Roberts, to explain the spiritual laws of the Universe.  Maybe because I was already open to alternative ways of thinking, this book resonated with me at least as much as the bible stories I’d read as a child.  While both required a suspension of logic and the willingness to accept powers outside of what our physical senses can perceive, the bible taught that we are basically lowly human beings capable of the occasional spiritual experience.  The Seth books taught just the opposite:  We are spiritual beings having a human experience and spirit, being pure energy, has no limitations. 

When a close friend of mine was suddenly killed in a tragic accident, I was drowning in grief.  We’d had some recent disagreements and I needed to be able to say good-bye.  Again, in the early hours of the next morning, he appeared in my bedroom.  Unlike the case with my mother, his face and body were clear to me.  I can describe exactly what he was wearing.  He opened his arms and I went into them.  We hugged.  I remember thinking, “He feels so thin.”  And with that thought he was gone. 

The bible tells of Jesus making appearances to his followers after his death and Christians believe this to be true.  Were his followers imagining these appearances?   Mine have repeatedly occurred in the early morning hours.  Dreams?  Maybe.  But who’s to say in what form such visitations may take?   I can only say they were real to me and I believe them.

There is a reason our religious beliefs are called “faith” and not fact.  I would argue that the same can be said for those of us who believe in ghosts. 

Wednesday, September 30, 2015

injaynesworld "Lessons in Motion..."

So many body parts to think about – his, yours – it’s no wonder your relationship has problems.  It’s not like driving a car, where after a while it becomes second-nature, leaving you able to dance in your seat to the latest Pharell Williams beat, chat on Bluetooth or apply mascara while at a stop.  No.  With him you must always be vigilant, thinking ahead, lest he take the controls. 

While idling at a stop signal and planning to turn right, your car won’t suddenly perceive a ghost at its side, leap into the air, and bolt to the left.  If you apply the brakes, your vehicle, most likely, will stop.  Indicate your interest in putting the brakes on things with him and he may or may not take “whoa” for an answer.  He may confuse it with another word, that of “go.” After all, your legs are wrapped tightly around his sides and usually that means full speed ahead.   It’s an understandable mistake.  If he does decide to comply with your request to slow things down, he may do so abruptly, allowing your forward motion to continue well beyond his. This is never desirable as there are no airbags.

Load up your car with all the gear you need for that ski vacation, step on the gas and you will hear nary a complaint as it happily transports you to the highest snowy peak.  Put on a few pounds and he will find you less desirable and complain of back pain.  Oh, he won’t do this aloud.  He’s far more passive-aggressive than that.  Maybe he’ll just turn his backside to you when you arrive at his door, or run to the far end of the field in a rousing game of “Catch me if you can.”  You can’t.  You exhaust yourself trying and realize yes, you may indeed have put on a few pounds.  You resolve to go to the gym, leaving him to cast a triumphant glance over his shoulder as you hobble to your compliant motor vehicle.

Wednesday, August 19, 2015

injaynesworld it's "Boinking Pills for Everyone!..."

Sprout Pharmaceuticals announced a new FDA-approved sex pill for men women this week.   And it’s pink!   Just for us girls!  Yes, the industry that brought us hormones made from horse urine now wants to make us horny. 

Here are just some of the things you might want to know:

"...combining the pill with alcohol can cause dangerously low blood pressure and fainting."  Sounds like the stuff Cosby was slipping women.

"This is not a drug you take an hour before you have sex. You have to take it for weeks and months in order to see any benefit at all."  If I have to go without alcohol for weeks or months in order to have sex – Wait a minute.  Why would anyone even want to have sex without alcohol?  What am I?  Amish?  

"Sprout Pharmaceutical's drug is intended to treat women who report emotional stress due to a lack of libido."  I've never known a woman who couldn't solve any kind of stress with chocolate.

“Safety advocates and pharmaceutical critics warn that Addyi is a problem-prone drug for a questionable medical condition.”   Because obviously women must be sick if they don’t want to do the old in-and-out, says a male-dominated drug industry.  And if they’re not, hey -- we’ll just make them think they are.  Can’t wait for the SNL skits on this one.

“Addyi is the first drug that acts on brain chemicals that affect mood and appetite.”  But alcohol already puts me in a good mood and caffeine curbs my appetite.  And if I’m happy and skinny, I’ll probably want to have sex.  

“Studies show that on average Addyi increased the number of so-called satisfying sexual events by half to one additional event per month over a placebo.”  Half?  WTF is half of a satisfying sexual event?  Oh, right.  That’s when he gets off and you don’t.  Can’t get enough of those, can we ladies?

“A lobbying group funded by Sprout began publicizing the lack of drugs for female sexual dysfunction as a ‘women's rights issue’ last year:  Women deserve equal treatment when it comes to sex."  Equal, huh?  We have to take a psychotropic drug every day, but guys just have to pop a boner pill when the mood suits them.  Yeah, that’s equal.

I can only imagine the women whose partners will be pressuring them to take this shit...  Pass the tequila.  I’ll show you a sexually satisfying experience.

To read the entire article at The Huffington Post and make up your own mind click here.

Monday, July 6, 2015

injaynesworld it's our "Quest for Immortality..."

Sarah Winchester, heiress to the Winchester rifle fortune, believed she could buy immortality.  The Winchester Mystery house in San Jose, California, is the embodiment of that belief.  The elaborate mansion with its doors that open onto walls and staircases to nowhere was never designed to be functional.  It was designed to simply grow for it was Sarah’s belief that as long as carpenters were hammering and sawing away, which they did 24 hours a day, seven days a week, she would never die. 

She was wrong, of course, but that hasn’t stopped me from forming my own belief about achieving immortality.


Judd Apatow, TV producer and author of “Sick in the Head: Conversations about Life and Comedy” recently stated about his own obsession with books:  “I seem to think that buying them is the same as reading them.”  He misses the point.

Maybe it’s because I’m in those blurry years between middle-age and old age (kind of like a tween - too old for toys, too young for boys – but with wrinkles), and starting to see the “exit” sign up ahead, but I’ve been thinking more and more that I’d like to stick around, like for a long time.  So I buy books.

Here’s my theory:  As long as there are unread books by my bedside, I will not die. 

To that end, I buy more books than I will ever have time to read and, when I see that I’m catching up, I buy still more.  They’re all wonderful books and I have every intention of reading them and, if my theory proves true, I will.   

With the advent of e-readers, it’s so easy.  While I love the feel of physical books, and I buy those, too, I have limited space in which to store them, but my reader holds the next potential 100 years of my life in its digital heartbeat.  I keep it plugged into the charger 24/7.  Much like Sarah Winchester’s belief that if the sound of carpentry stopped so would she, a dead battery could prove, well, deadly.

“The ravings of a crazy old woman!” you might say.  But we’ll just see who lives the longest, won’t we?

Related Posts with Thumbnails