if you don’t like it…

Among those who dislike oppression are many who like to oppress.
Napoleon Bonaparte


(a mud dusty turtle/ Julie Cook / 2019)

In the news recently, I’ve read where our President has responded to the
Speaker of House’s fab four darling freshmen members…

It seems that they have been not shy about spouting their disdain for the handling
of the illegal immigration issue, the border crisis, the impending ICE raids,
and even a disdain for the office of Homeland Security…

Their disdain is coming via twitter.

In a counter tweet, the President responded with something along the lines of
“if you don’t like it, go back from where you came form”
Of which for a couple of them means they’d just be going back here to the US,
but not so for a couple of the others as he later added
“if you don’t like it, you can just leave”

Now, first of all, let me clarify— I hate all things twitter.

I liken it to a grown-up version of name-calling as well as good old fashioned
‘he said, she said’ sort of childish nonsense.

So no, I don’t like Twitter.

Maybe if we really try to figure it out, maybe it’s because everyone wants to have
some sort of public platform in order to express their ill content while hoping that
those out there reading will join on whatever the current bandwagon may be.

A cheap, easy and often anonymous sort of platform.

It seems to embolden people who have a more or less private avenue in which
to babble outward…
They are emboldened as they can readily spout off something via
the twitter waves while others rally to their words.

But I digress…it’s lunacy run amuck but there I go again digressing.

I will, however, be the first to say that yes, we, as in this country of ours,
have quite a mess on our hands.

My friend Kathy over on a Time to Share (atimetoshare.wordpress.com) actually wrote about this
issue yesterday, our mess that is, in a post entitled Illegal, what don’t we understand?

Here’s the link
ILLEGAL – WHAT DON’T WE UNDERSTAND?

And I agree with her.

I commented as much while she, in turn, responded that she was having some pushback
from the millennial crowd… of which I am not surprised.

Of course, the whole illegal notion and humanitarian crisis issue runs contrary to what
many of the democratic hopeful presidential candidates would want anyone to
truly understand because it helps their numbers to simply say “crisis, what crisis?!”

When you have hundreds of thousands of folks pushing their way into a sovereign
Nation by climbing fences, swimming across rivers, digging tunnels,
hiring “coyotes” to sneak them in, hiding in the backs of big rig trucks,
hidden in the trunks of cars, etc…
with the keyword here being “sneaking’, then someone in all of this has to know
that this is not the “legal” way in or the legal way
to go about seeking citizenship.

But according to many liberal democrats…” legal citizenship” is an oxymoron.

Sneaking is ok in the minds of most of the progressive left.
Yet a synonym for sneaking is shady.
And who doesn’t understand that sneaking and shady are not words for being exactly
on the up and up?

Oh but there I go digressing.

In order to house the hundreds of those attempting to cross the border
on a daily basis, we have had to put up detention centers.

Some of the Fab 4 reps are complaining about the detention centers and have reported
that detainees are being treated like animals and are told to drink toilet water—
of which others who have actually volunteered to help at the centers
vehemently deny.
And so perhaps AOC and Omar are not speaking the truth but are rather promoting their
typical heightened sense of the melodramatic because melodramatic garners
likes and followers.

We certainly have been hearing a lot of complaining, haven’t we?
Fussing and cussing as to how bad America has become.
And the complaining spill over on to any supporter of the President
as they are equated to that of a deplorable, an ignorant dimwit, or simply
a redneck.
On and on goes the gripes…and for the lack of a better word, bitching.

I once worked for a principal who was former military.
I liked him and he was a good man to work for but there was one thing about him…
he couldn’t stand to have teachers, students or parents come to him fussing,
cussing or complaining about this or that.

He would quickly stop said complainer in mid complaint and ask rather what
was their solution.

And the solution, mind you, had better be well thought out, affordable and feasible.

So don’t simply grouse about something but rather find a viable solution to
counter your complaint.

And so here is the thing…we have record numbers of people literally
knocking down the fences to get into our country.
Pushing, shoving, running, jumping, sneaking and being all shady in their pursuit
of what this country has to offer.

While our headlines are rife with the images of people who have tragically
died doing so.
They have put not only themselves at risk, but they have readily put their children
at risk as well.

Is the potential death of a child equal to the risk of illegally invading
another country?

Many a progressive liberal would argue that yes, yes it is…
but I would be hard-pressed to see them do the same with their own lives
and their own children.

Knowing that the risk to life is very high.
And that bad things most likely will happen..
is it worth putting a young child through such?
Is their life that expendable?

Firstly there has to be some level of responsibility on the parts of these parents.

And so the Fab 4 reps and their followers are clamoring to just drop all walls,
the fences, any and all checkpoints and roll out the red carpet while saying
‘just come running on in…’

So where do the hundreds of thousands go?
Who feeds them?
Who houses them?
Who clothes them?
Who employes them?
Who educates them?
Who tends to their medical needs?

All of that costs money.
A level of money that this country does not have to give.

And that’s the thing…how do we pay for all the hundreds of thousands who come?

We currently have a homeless epidemic in this country…
Look at Portland, Seattle, Chicago, LA….any large city across this nation has
a vast number of homeless.
Many who suffer from mental illness or drug addiction.

Yet we can’t seem to figure out how to help our own so how are we expected
to welcome the throngs of individuals who are wanting to cross the borders–?

And so we have a group of naive, melodramatic, representatives who
are being very verbal about their disdain for our Nation, our
government, our leadership.

Are they offering any viable solutions or are they simply rabble rousing the masses
with inflammatory words such as impeach, occupyer,
Russian accomplice, racist, Nazi,hater

If there are no viable solutions to be offered, perhaps leaving the place
they seem to enjoy running in the ground might be the best choice
for all concerned…

At least their departure would open up a few more spots to those sneaking in…

Do not grumble against one another, brothers, so that you may not be judged;
behold, the Judge is standing at the door.

James 5:9

I have the perfect solution. . . does anyone know where I can get an anteater or two??

“As regards intellectual work it remains a fact, indeed, that great decisions in the realm of thought and momentous discoveries and solutions of problems are only possible to an individual, working in solitude.”
Sigmund Freud

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(Sleeping anteater at the Vienna Zoo–isn’t he a cutie? Julie Cook / 2012)

How delightfully appropriate that the subject of today’s posted image, as well as the author of today’s quote, both hail from Vienna. Not originally mind you as Freud was born in Moravia which is currently considered a part of the Czech Republic and our little cute sleeping beauty is originally from the wilds of South America, yet both made their permeant homes in Vienna. I am thinking however that our sweet little sleeping friend did not come to Vienna by choice, but I digress.

I have decided that I desperately need to procure an anteater, maybe even two.
They look easy to keep. I can certainly provide a place for them to sleep. I can water them, brush them as that coat of theirs looks like it could do with a nice brushing. They seem docile enough. Surely that little mouth of theirs isn’t filled with fierce teeth and I bet they wouldn’t scratch the furniture like the two knot heads, aka our cats of which my husband so lovingly refers, who happen to call our house home and who scratch with a relentless zeal—hence why I sit on tattered rags. . .digressing.
I bet I can even provide said anteater with a smorgasbord of delectable foods.
An endless and amble supply!!

In fact my yard is full of their food!

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(one of hundreds of ant mounds hiding just on the surface of the South / Julie Cook / 2014)

There have been three recent incidents which have lead me to the desire of the procurement of said anteater–all of which have been of the Alfred Hitchcock variety. . .or more of the Rod Serling Twilight Zone variety. . .or perhaps more like a B grade horror flick. . .or maybe just all three rolled into one.

The latest “episode” transpired earlier this week.
It was late and I was ready to call it a day.
I was just getting into the shower when I looked back noticing Percy (aka one of the knot heads that I dearly love) staring intently at my shirt, the one I had dropped on the closet floor as I was preparing for my shower, intending to take it to the laundry room once I finished washing up.

Now mind you I was currently naked as a jaybird, as that is how I prefer to shower–plus I had removed my glasses as I also prefer to shower with naked eyes. As Percy wouldn’t stop staring at my shirt, I hesitated shutting the shower door, preferring to lean outward just a tad to get a better look at my discarded shirt.
Why was it appearing to twinkle or vibrate or move in place?
Hummmmm.
With the water running, I step out of the shower to inspect this odd phenomenon. Even without my glasses I can immediately figure out as to why my shirt is “moving”
AAAGGGGGHHHHHHHH!!!!!!
I run screaming from the closet and bathroom, yes, still naked as a jaybird, shower door wide open as the water is still running. And please, don’t let your mind go there as it is not a pretty sight.
My poor husband, who had fallen asleep in his favorite chair watching the late night news, jumps from his chair as if he had just been catapulted heavenward.

“ANTS ARE IN THE CLOSET!! GET THE POISON!!”
This as I make a mad dash in search of poison.
“Why aren’t you wearing any clothes?
My confused, tired and bleary eyed husband asks in great annoyance.
He seems to think company is always about to ring the bell any time day or night whenever I decide, out of grand necessity mind you, that I must make some scantily clad dash here, there and yon.

“ANTS!!! FIRE ANTS ARE IN THE HOUSE!!! GET THE POISON!!!”
Finding a spray bottle of bug killer I make a mad dash past my husband who is finally making his way to see for himself, firsthand, the cause of my commotion.

Sure enough, my shirt is teaming with ants as a nice orderly line is coming and going to the baseboard along the outside wall of the house.

“KILL THEM” I scream as I precariously pick up my shirt and run to the back to door to fling it outside. Yes I’m still naked as a jaybird but its late and its dark out, I could run around naked all night in the yard and no one would see me so it’s okay.

I dash back in and begin wildly spraying the remaining mass and the now confused little trail leading to the baseboard.

“TAKE THAT. . .AND THAT” I shout in triumph of extermination.

By now my husband has made his way to the basement in search of his high powered poison and proceeds to make his way outside in the dark to spray the base of the house outside the closet as there is obviously a mound hiding in the pine straw a bit too close to the house for my liking.

DSCN7789
(I’m not trying to push this brand, but it’s all we had)

I finally throw on some clothes ( you realize that I can hear you sighing in heavy relief) as I proceed to spray and wipe up, then mop the closest.
“DAMN ANTS” I can be heard to wail and lament for the remainder of the night.

The two times prior to this invasion were each similar.
It always starts the same.
Percy begins staring.
One time it was at his food bowl–which was oddly, once again, moving—as there was also a nice little line of soldiers coming in from a kitchen baseboard, once again from an outside wall. My husband, most likely to avoid my high pitched screams of hysteria, immediately dashed outside, finding the mound in the pine straw, at the base of the wall to the kitchen and began spraying the spray of eradication.

The other time was in the laundry room. All with a similar scene of pandaemonium, chaos and poison.

Now you must know that I pride myself in the keeping a very clean, immaculate home. I scrub, mop, dust, vacuum like nobody’s business. I keep a neat and tidy yard doing my best to eradicate the damn mounds which liter the yard like weeds gone mad.

DSCN7788

DSCN7787
(you can’t see them in this picture but had this been a video, the earth would be violently moving)

I spend hundreds of dollars on poison, sprays, powders—anything and everything in order to kill these most painful and even dangerous pests.

DSCN7657
(don’t inhale, it will kill you)

If you’ve ever flown into the Atlanta airport. . .as the next time you make your way to baggage, look up—there for all the world to see, is what some whacked out “decorator” thought would be cute—a sculptured trail of giant fire ants climbing the walls onto the ceiling. I find this to be a grave embarrassment for our fine state.
I hate the damn things, and here, for all of humanity to see, the airing of our dirty laundry.
Yes, we here in the South have a terrible problem with fire ants, and we can’t seem to do anything to fix it.

I won’t go into the odd dance performed by many a blindsided southerner who mindlessly ventures outside, rather oblivious as to where and where not to step. Any passing neighbor will quickly recognize the fire ant dance. One step, inadvertently on a camouflaged mound hiding in the thick cool summer grass and within a millisecond, ones foot, leg and lower torso is engulfed in searing pain sending the poor unsuspecting victim hopping, swatting and jumping around the yard madly striping out of any and all clothing.
It’s the only way.
Perhaps dousing oneself in gasoline is the only other option but I don’t recommend that.

All humor aside fire ants have been known to kill young calves, deer, dogs and cats not to mention cause grave concern for those who are allergic to bees. Their bites pack a painful punch and imagine timesing that by 1,000,000,000!

So I have decided on what appears to be the most sound and rational solution, not to mention the most environmentally friendly, riding my need of poisons all in the name of the eternal quest of the total eradication of these damned fire ants!

DSCN7658
(no, my yard does not have a drug problem, rather a poison problem)

Now if I could just talk the Vienna Zoo into letting me borrow their sweet little “pets”. . .

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(a sleeping mom anteater with her young draped over mom’s head / Vienna Zoo / Julie Cook / 2012)