Christmas 2011 - Mom's Manual Typewriter

Santa Dear, this is almost more of a complaint letter than a request.  Oh – it’s not a complaint against you – you’re wonderful!!  J  It’s my mother.  She has a manual typewriter, which she used as a reporter for that architectural trade paper.  She promised me that if I got her the ribbons for it over the Internet and put them on for her (because she couldn’t remember how to do it), that I could have it.

She brought it over on Thanksgiving.  Brother A. had to carry it in because it’s so heavy.  Since there was no place to put, he set it down on the floor.  He left after dinner and once I cleared the table, Brother B. and I had to lift it together to get it onto the dining room table.

The next day, I spent half the afternoon replacing the ribbon for her.  I learned to type on a manual years ago, so I knew what to do.  We still had two manuals in the house at the time.  One was Mom’s, the other was Dad’s.  She wouldn’t let us touch hers so we always played with Dad’s typewriter.  Goodness knows where it is.  As a result her typewriter is pretty much in mint condition.

But after fixing it up for her, she broke her promise and took it home again to use it.  That is Brother A. took it home for her….   The manual typewriter is part of my plan for the Dark Ages, Santa.  There’s going to come a time when none of us will be able to afford electricity.  The government will do it deliberately in order to control our lives and prevent us from communicating with one another.  When that day comes, the manual typewriter will come in very handy for writing my blog and writing messages to other Tea Party patriots.  Who knows?  I might even start a typing business.

Once I’ve typed my blog, I plan to distribute it using some other gifts that are up ahead on my list.  I’ve been thinking I should distribute my blogs right now, but chained down to my present job as I am (which I should be grateful to have for the time being), it’s just not possible.

The good thing about Mom having her typewriter is that she’s started writing letters to the editors again.  I finally got her to start reading Rush Limbaugh’s The Limbaugh Letter and she nearly had a fit when she discovered what our government is up to.  Mom’s feisty and can write a really fiery letter when she wants to.  If she were younger and better able to get around, she’d make a great Tea Partier.

So it’s okay that she keeps her own typewriter.  But I want it when she’s through with it, Santa!  Brother B. would keep it in good condition but never use it.  He’d sit there and moon over it sentimentally.  That’s all, though.  He’s never written a letter to the editor in his life.  Brother B. is Mr. Wimpy when it comes to politics.  Moan, groan and stay home.  That’s him.

Brother A. would immediately sell the typewriter for its antique value.  With him, it’s all about the money, not the use, and certainly not sentiment.  Politically, he’s less wimpy than Brother B. but he never lets patriotism stand in the way of making a quick buck.

I’m the only one who would put that typewriter to proper use.  I’m the only one who knows how to type, for crying out loud.  My brothers didn’t stand up to the communist history teacher in high school; I did.  Brother A. never got to that class; Brother B. sold out.  Therefore, it’s only right that I get that typewriter, Santa.  Let Mom use it for now; that’s fine.  The typewriter is hers, after all.

But don’t let her forget who should get it in the end, Santa!

Christmas List 2011 - My Own Radio Show

Dear Santa, yesterday was our final Public Relations Department Christmas luncheon.  What’s left of our department attended.  As far as I can tell, only three of us out of the 20 or so, were what they call “impacted” employees.  None of the L’s attended, nor our web developer in the Philly area.  The L’s have been with the company forever and they just couldn’t bear the notion of saying goodbye.

The video guys and I went.  Hey, it was a free lunch.  I never say no to a free lunch – I mean an actual free lunch, as in food.  However, in the best tradition of a free lunch (as in “there’s no such thing”), it was Mexican food and I had to work my way around the stomach-gutting spices that would flame my stomach later on.

We had a lot of fun.  Technically, it was a business meeting, so our department manager had to say something about business.  After that, it was all fun and games.  We went to a place called “Dave & Busters” and spent the afternoon in team challenges of Skee-Ball and Daytona Racing.  The Daytona Racing was the funniest.  I’d never played it before and the machine had no instructions telling you which pedal was which.  Consequently, I drove backwards into some sort staging area and couldn’t get myself out.  A technician had to come and get me out.

Once on my way, I did okay.  I knew I wasn’t going to win because I was too far behind.  Still, I kept at it.  I kept the car on the road.  Having ridden on motorcycles, I understood the dynamics of taking turns.   I came in 4^th out of 5^th, so at least I didn’t come in dead last.

Watching the subsequent races was just so funny.  One racer drove the entire race in reverse.  Everyone hit the wall coming out of turns.  I was coaching a teammate to keep to the inside of the track and not over-steer.  She was in first place until I was chased away for distracting her.  After I left, she started hitting the wall and turning her car over.  She finished last place.  She was mad at me until I told what her ranking was until I left.

Ah, it’s so much easier to tell someone else what to do than to do it yourself.  Watching all those cars flipping over was hysterical.  This was not reality, so they bounced right back again and continued on their way, but went down in the ranking.  What was it some guest of Glenn Beck’s said?  “A recession is when your neighbor loses his job.  A depression is when you lose yours.  A collapse is when everyone loses their job.”

That’s why the L’s didn’t come to the “party.”  Those of us who are resilient (and fatalistic) can absorb such jolly hilarity in the midst of a lay-off.  Nearly all the employees at the party were keeping their jobs.  I wasn’t thrilled about going to this party.  I refuse to cry, though.  Never let them see you cry, I say.  Whatever comes tomorrow, I had a good time yesterday.

We each received a $25 gift certificate at Target, where I bought Glenn Beck’s The Snow Angel, Christmas with the Kranks (one of my co-workers was telling me about it; a film where one family declares itself the boss of the neighborhood and bullies a family that decides not to decorate for Xmas), and a mini-bullhorn (I know you put that there for me - thank you!).

No one ever listens to me, Santa.  I figure I’m in good company.  They didn’t listen to Jesus.  They didn’t listen to Churchill when he warned Parliament that Hitler was building up Germany for war.  They didn’t listen to Madame Chiang Kai-shek or any other number of prophets.

My blog is doing well.  Not everyone reads blogs on the Internet, though.  I’d love to be able to reach an even wider audience.  I had radio programming courses back in college and got A’s.  I’m funny and have Mom’s gift of gab.  I’d give those people out there who are out there asleep a wake-up call.

I have a good knowledge of culture, Santa.  I know all the best Conservative movies.  I’ve made a list of the books Conservatives need to read (I’m almost up to 14,000 books and still have stacks to go).  Right now, I’m working on an article for my blog about N.J.’s redevelopment plan.

This draft the state put out is just an unbelievable mish-mash of bureaucratic happy-talk, spin, politicalese.  In short, it’s unfathomable.  In order to understand it, the words must be carefully parsed, somewhat like one of those cinematic thrillers where a character decodes a message using holes in a painting.

New Jerseyans need to be told in plain English that the government is basically planning a landgrab.  If they try to read this thing, they won’t get it or feel so crushed by its bureaucratic weight that they’ll simply go as limp as a fish.  They need to be charged up about it, because this is the final push towards communism.

I’m just an average person, Santa.  I’m not an intellectual.  I don’t think, speak or write like an intellectual, although I try to refrain from vulgarity and profanity.  The average people need to hear this news from someone like them.  Someone who isn’t perceived as “rich”.  [“What a snob, you are, Lizzy,” said Uncle Gardiner.  “Disliking poor Mr. Darcy just because he’s rich.  The poor man can’t help it if he’s wealthy.” – Pride and Prejudice, 2207].

I would just need an hour or two a week, Santa.  My voice wouldn’t hold out much longer than that, anyway.  I promise I’ll be a good girl and not rant or break things.  I’ll leave that to the OWSers.  We Tea Partiers are trying to fix things, not break them.

Christmas List 2011 - A Conservative Library

Dearest Santa, one of the hallmarks of Christmas is giving and sharing. One of the things I’d just love for Christmas is my very own library, completely with a building (with all the taxes taken care of), some considerable property, and the Conservative books and media to go with it.

My library wouldn’t just be any library. My library would not only have ample shelves of books, plus music, audio and video recordings, microfiche files of the newspapers of records for historians to research and computers for Internet access, but a small auditorium as well, for speakers to address patriotic Americans concerned about their country.

There would also be meeting rooms of various sizes for groups to plan strategies for waking America up. I’d also set up a comfortable lounge for more informal gatherings of Tea Partiers just to hang out and talk about the latest news.

My library would be a two-story, colonial building with a sweeping staircase, like the one in the American Red Cross Building in Fairfield, N.J. I’d like the library to be along some fairly well-traveled thoroughfare. The property should have a wide front lawn so the Tea Partiers here in New Jersey would have a place to rally in peace.

The library would have programs for young historians of every age. We would highlight specific dates in history, like today: December 7th, Pearl Harbor Day. We would have showings of popular historical movies like Tora! Tora! Tora! and we would recommend the books upon which the movies were based – in this case, Tora! Tora! Tora! (it basically means, Attack! Attack! Attack!; literally, the words mean torpedo attack) and The Broken Seal.

We would have paintings of famous Americans like George Washington and Benjamin Franklin, Thomas Alva Edison and the Wright Brothers, and feature their biographies during their birthday weeks. We would also highlight great American authors like Herman Melville and Nathaniel Hawthorne.

Conservatives need a library to call their own, a place where they can meet and exchange ideas in peace without calling into question partisanship and political correctness. I’ve been busy typing up my own list, Santa. It’s a sort of political naughty and nice list, with books on communism as well as capitalism, so students understand what’s at stake and what the enemies of freedom have in mind.

I have a small, personal library of my own. I just reached the limits of my expenses and my bookshelves. It’s quite a tall order of reading, but I’m going to do my best. One of the last books to arrive, Santa, was Madame Chiang Kai-shek’s China Will Rise Again. The book has long been out of print, as has been her husband’s. This book was published in 1941. Here’s what she wrote on page 13

“How can we, the so-called intellectuals, contribute to the great task of preparing our people to give their full assistance to the work of national resistance [to communism] and rehabilitation?

“No matter how efficient and honest our government officials may be in the performance of their duties, we cannot build up a strong, virile China if our people themselves continue to remain without understanding of, and cold to, the ideals of freedom?”

My parents urged me to read Chiang Kai-shek’s and Madame Chiang Kai-shek’s work at some point in my life. I never dreamt how difficult it would be to find the books. I imagine my local and college libraries have them. But when I saw that the books were out of print, I suspected that these were volumes that needed to be purchased, safe-guarded and cherished. Just a perusal of China Will Rise Again confirmed my suspicions and vouchsafed the expense of purchasing it. The book by Chiang Kai-shek was actually a reproduction of an old book.

Kindle and Nook are fine, Santa. They’re fun, even. But the only real safeguard of our history and our posterity is the library. We should support our public libraries all we can. We must prepare for the eventuality, however, that they could also be stripped of their treasures and their funds in the wink of an eye.

My condo is so small, I don’t even have a vent shaft you could stuff a Christmas ornament down, Santa, much less a library about the size of the White House. Many pundits are saying that America is past the point of no-return. Still, like little Susan Walker (whose mother was a Progressive) in Miracle on 34th Street, I’ll go on telling myself, “I believe. I believe. I believe. I believe.”

Christmas List 2011 - My Own Photo Studio

Christmas List 2011 – My Own Photo Studio

Santa Claus, Happy Santa Claus Day!  I know this is your feast day, officially known as St. Nicholas Day.  You were the Bishop of Myra (in Turkey).  Orphaned at an early age and heir to great wealth, you devoted your life to Jesus Christ.

You really spread the wealth around.  When three young girls were about to be sold into prostitution, you left each a sack of gold in the stockings that were drying by a fire.  You were a great traveler and are the patron saint of sailors as well as children and thieves.  Thieves stole your body, but there was such a goodness about you that they repented and return your body to its original resting place.  The Irish were so concerned that your body not be desecrated that they asked permission to bury some of your remains in Ireland, in case some other religion should sweep the world and your bones be desecrated.

You’ve delighted and terrified little children for centuries.  You are the very emblem of the childhood joys of Christmas.  Fundamentalist Christians object to your presence at Christmas time, feeling you’re stealing the limelight from the guy whose birthday we’re supposed to be celebrating.  No one who knows your history could believe such a thing, though.  You were the little man with the big heart and devoted follower of Jesus Christ.  Through Him, you’ve brought joy to the holiday of Christmas, which was once a very solemn, somber holiday.

I’ve had the privilege of taking Santa photos for my company for 12 years now.  There is no children’s holiday party for the children in this office this year because our company is closing this office.  Those employees who can are relocating, and must be in their new positions by the beginning of the New Year.  Those who can’t must find other employment – if they can.

I shall miss the joy of those Kiddie Kristmas mornings.  I had a complete set up of trains and dollies and cars for the kids to play with under a Christmas tree while waiting to sit on your lap.  I’ll miss the fun of using my percussion toys to get the children’s attention.  I’ll also miss your conversations with the children.  You have a way with kids, Santa.

The popular wisdom in these bad times is to have a skill upon which you can fall back while you search for that perfect job.  I have two.  One is typing, the other is photography.  The problem is with photography, you need the equipment.  I have the camera and lenses, but I don’t have the studio.  I don’t even have the space for one.

What’s more, I don’t really have the experience yet.  Oh, we have a makeshift studio here at work.  The time and budget constraints only permit us to do minimal photography, though.  In and out, get the claim representatives back to work.  We only have to backdrops and and having assistant, I have little time to adjust lighting, especially if I have a big crowd.  What I would love, Santa darling, if I can’t find the ideal job of promoting Conservative America, is to work as a photographer’s assistant.  I don’t have the money for school or the time, and even if I did, the dearest educational wish of my heart is to spend the time (and possibly the money) on a master’s degree in History.

Still, one must use whatever skills one has to get by and I do have the ability as a photographer.  Working as a photographer’s assistant would be just idea.  I’d have the chance to “fill in the gaps” in my knowledge of photography, get some hands-on experience, and do something I truly enjoy.  It beats the heck out of typing, at any rate (although I’ve been brushing up on my typing).  Eventually, I might even open my own studio.

In a year’s time, I could offer myself up as a Santa Claus photographer at a department store.  I have the experience now and know what it’s like and what to do.  Best of all, I would get to see you at work, Santa Claus.  Photographing you with the children isn’t just a job; it’s a privilege.

Christmas List 2011 - A Fence

Something else that I need, Santa Claus, is a fence.  The tattooed lady keeps poking her nose into my garden.  It’s not been much a garden these past few years because I haven’t had the time to tend one because I’ve been busy with the Tea Party and the Bands, or the money, knowing that I’m going to be unemployed.

Confronting the tattooed lady is pointless and even dangerous. A woman who would leave nails in your garden has a few screws loose in her head.  The association will never consent to openly feeding these poor cats, even though (ironically) I have permission from the veterinarian and animal control.  Dr. C. doesn’t want to destroy one more animal than he can help.

So I need a fence.  Only I’m not allowed to put up a fence.  I can plant shrubbery.  Only it’s the wrong time of year for shrubs.  I figure I can plant Christmas trees, though.  Little artificial ones, that is.  I’m also going to get some of those lit deer figures like Mom has.  I’m going to go the big box Christmas store and see if they have any more of those windmill posts and so forth.  Anything to create a barrier.

This is the problem with communal property, Santa.  This is also the problem with illegal immigrants and why we need a border fence.  They can do anything they want and the bureacrats protect them.  Legal Americans have no rights at all.  We’re not allowed to defend ourselves, we’re not allowed to put up fences, and when we protest, we’re accused of racism and all sorts of ugly crimes.

We were getting along okay until all these bureaucratic laws came along.  All it takes is one tattoeed lady or one aggrieved illegal immigrant or liberal with an agenda.  We’re lucky in my condo group – so far.  We’re allowed to put up decorations on the windows.  I don’t light my windows because there’s a lot of condensation and I’m afraid of a fire.  Do you know, Santa, that the tattooed lady actually demanded to know why I hadn’t put up my decorations?  As it’s any of her business.

She’s a bad omen of things to come.  What happens to me now, in one little 750 square foot condo unit, will happen to all Americans within the next five years.  My parents used to say that in Communist Russia everyone squealed on every one else.  Kids would rat out their parents if they spoke against the party.  But this was America and people didn’t do things like that.

Communal America is going to be different.  It’s going to be like living in my condo next door to the tattooed lady.  God help America.  We need to build fences now over our borders because these illegal immigrants will have everything their own way and we’ll be the ones fined or even jailed for non-compliance.  Eleven million illegal immigrants, I believe, are in the country right now who should be sent back to where they came from.  Eleven million illegals who don’t give a darn about America and certainly not about property rights.

Please send us fences, Santa dear.  Fences make the best neighbors.

Christmas List 2011 - A Lifetime Supply of Edison Light Bulbs

Santa Dear, did you know that as of January 1, 2012, the manufacture of the incandescent bulb will be banned in the United States?  It’s all the work of the green environmentalists and investment scammers who’ve put their money into producing fluorescent light bulbs.

They do save electricity, Santa, but not money.  They’re very expensive for ordinary people to buy, and they don’t last any longer than the regular light bulbs.  Billy bought me some one Christmas and I didn’t mind.  But the thing burned out within six months.  I’ve had regular light bulbs that last longer.

These bulbs are also a biohazard.  They’re filled with mercury.  If you break one, you have to call in a contractor that specializes in cleaning up hazardous materials.  That’s more money.  No doubt, in the future, people will also be charged a fine for breaking them, especially in a condo unit like mine or an apartment.

Finally, if people really want to save money on electricity (save the planet – give me a break), then they should shut off the lights they’re not using.  Turn down the heat to 68 degrees.  I find 72 degrees far too hot.  Even 70 degrees is too much.  Turning of a light or an appliance I’m not using is a lot cheaper and easier than buying an expensive, hazardous flim-flam bulb.

I don’t know what genius thought up the idea of using fluorescent bulbs in the home, but whoever it was, they were no Thomas Alva Edison.  He developed so many devices that changed the world:  the phonograph, the motion picture camera, the stock ticker, a batter for an electric car, and of course the lightbulb.  The original cars were electric, you know, not gas.  They discovered they couldn’t go very far in them; the charge didn’t hold long enough for long trips.  In those days, people didn’t need to go very far.  Of course, you have reindeer power.  A wagon of hay and you’re all set.

Edison was the fourth most prolific inventor in history, holding 1,093 U.S. patents, as well as many patents in the United Kingdom, France, and Germany.   His early careers as a telegraph operator led to his inventiveness.  He became a telegraph operator after he saved three-year-old Jimmie MacKenzie from being struck by a runaway train. Jimmie's father, station agent J.U. MacKenzie was so grateful that he trained Edison as a telegraph operator.  Edison originated the concept and implementation of electric-power generation and distribution to homes, businesses, and factories – a crucial development in the modern industrialized world. His first power station was on Manhattan Island in New York City.

In school, the young Edison's mind often wandered, and his teacher, the Reverend Engle often called him “addled”.  This ended Edison's three months of official schooling. Edison recalled later, “My mother was the making of me. She was so true, so sure of me; and I felt I had something to live for, someone I must not disappoint.”   His mother home-schooled him. Much of his education came from reading R.G. Parker's School of Natural Philosophy and The Cooper Union.

He sold candy and newspapers on trains running from Port Huron to Detroit, and he sold vegetables to supplement his income. He also studied qualitative analysis, and conducted chemical experiments on the train until an accident caused the prohibition of further work of the kind. He obtained the exclusive right of selling newspapers on the road, and, with the aid of four assistants, he set in type and printed the Grand Trunk Herald, which he sold with his other papers. This began Edison's long streak of entrepreneurial ventures as he discovered his talents as a businessman. These talents eventually led him to found 14 companies, including General Electric, which is still in existence as one of the largest publicly-traded in the world.

Edison developed hearing problems at an early age. The cause of his deafness has been attributed to a bout of scarlet fever during childhood and recurring untreated middle-ear infections. Around the middle of his career, Edison attributed the hearing impairment to being struck on the ears by a train conductor when his chemical laboratory in a boxcar caught fire and he was thrown off the train in Smith Creeks, Mich., along with his apparatus and chemicals. In his later years he modified the story to say the injury occurred when the conductor, in helping him onto a moving train, lifted him by the ears.

Edison was active in business right up to the end. Just months before his death in 1931, the Lackawanna Railroad implemented electric trains in suburban service from Hoboken to Gladstone, Montclair, and Dover,  N.J. Transmission was by means of an overhead catenary system, with the entire project under Edison's guidance. To the surprise of many, he was at the throttle of the very first MU (Multiple-Unit) train to depart Lackawanna Terminal in Hoboken, driving the train all the way to Dover.

You wouldn’t want Rudolph to have a fluorescent nose, Santa, with all that poisonous mercury, would you?  I didn’t think so.  So please, Santa, fill our stockings with incandescent light bulbs this Christmas.

Christmas List 2011 - A Free Education

Santa, darling, it was such a busy weekend, what with the concert and all, that I didn’t have time to write over the weekend.  I do wish you could bring me new neighbor for Christmas, one who can mind his or her own business.  I left some kibbles out for Princess and Elvis.  I left in on a plastic freezer bag so as not to leave a mess.  When I came out, the Harpy had left a pile of nails in the place of the kibbles.  Our little friends are starving, Santa.  I need help.  They need help.

Anyway, what I wanted to write about was a free education.  In particular, I would like a master’s degree in History.  I never wanted one before.  My company offered me a master’s, but an MBA only.  The MBA is the Boss’ degree.  I don’t want to be a boss.  If I must spend the time studying, I want the subject to be such as will hold my interest and also be of benefit to the community in the future.

History, despite what anyone else might say, fits that bill.  With a master’s in History, I could edit books or even teach someday.  No one is taking care of our history, Santa.  No one cares.  What students today know about history, or remember, could fill a thimble.  An elf’s thimble.  People who don’t remember history are doomed to repeat it.  The teachers today are communists.  They don’t want people to remember history.  They want students to forget about the honor and sacrifice of freedom.

If someone doesn’t stop them, they’ll make slaves of us all.  Our economy is in tatters thanks to their redistribution of the wealth. They scorn property rights and individual liberties.  Sharing should be a matter of conscience, not compulsion.  Our industry and our jobs are going away.  Our government allows up to two years of unemployment, which places a tremendous tax burden on the remaining workers, and further alienates businesses.  After two years, those who still can’t find a job from which they can make a living are forced onto public welfare.  There are new rules about it though.  Those going from unemployment to welfare must perform “community service” working for the very “entitlement” welfare recipients who taxed our economy out of business in the first place.

I don’t want that to happen to me, Santa.  Nor do I want it to happen to future generations.  They must be made to understand why freedom and liberty are so important and why communism is an illusion and a delusion.  This gift seems to be one that you may be able to deliver.  My brother says that our state colleges will allow unemployment recipients to take classes for free as long as there are seats available.

You might think me unscrupulous, Santa, taking something for nothing.  I consider it a form of payback, a positive vengeance towards all those who laughed at me when I said we were in trouble and that they needed to pay more attention and those who ravaged our economy and left me in this sorry state.  The world doesn’t owe me an education.  Or do they?  People listen better when you have that advanced degree in your back pocket.

With the credentials of the master’s degree, I can teach the young the real history of America.  Even if the communists take over – which it seems they’re likely to do – there’s always rebellion.  Rebellion is a natural talent which I happen to possess.  I’ll be in my natural state.

Mom is worried about me.  She’s afraid the men in black are going to get me.  Indeed, at the supermarket yesterday, as I was backing out of the parking space, an older man stopped right behind my car to read my tea party bumper sticker.  He became quite angry, pacing back and forth, huffing and puffing, and talking to himself.  As I pulled away, he made a circle around his ear, to indicate that I was crazy.

I just laughed and drove away.  We’re about $14 trillion dollars in debt, millions of people are out of work, and he thinks I’m crazy, does he?  I’m not the confrontational type.  I’d prefer to teach those who will listen and leave the crazy people to rant and rave and plot.  In a herd of sheeple, there are always the rams, but there also ewes and lambs.  These I would use my increasing knowledge of history and facts to lead aright.

To think, this would not have been possible in any other scenario.  But it must be done quickly, Santa, for there’s very little time.  Help me get organized for an advanced degree, Santa.