Thursday, November 11, 2010

The Real Choice in an Imaginary Truth

Inhale, exhale. Let’s be real.

What more can one want besides the life they’re given to become the life they choose?

Somewhere along the way I have grown up and have relied on this thing called choice. To see what is and choose what will be? Do my choices extend this far? What is the distinction between destiny and choice of direction?

What is real and what is masked as reality, but is perception?

Can we know the difference? Can we learn the difference? Is there a difference at all?

In philosophy class the debate was about whether our reality exists completely and solely in our mind. ‘Do we imagine it all?’, in essence, was the question. Is there a physical world or is it purely thought that we live in?

Immediately one leans to the side of a physical world being truth. But, how can you prove it?

Well, we all exist in the same reality and we both see a chair and agree it is a chair we can touch. It physically resists our body, so it must be there as a physical reality.

How can you prove that? The question remains.

How do you know another person exists across from you now posing debate on this issue? Do you know it is a fact? Or do you think it? Or do you imagine it?

Ooh la la. The brain.

What a marvelous device. We can’t even figure it out. We, using our brain’s thoughts, cannot decipher the human brain.

I think it is because, and touching on the above mystery, it is not entirely physical. It must work in conjunction with something that surpasses the physical dimension. Say that yes, we have a physical body, with a physical environment. Is that all that is real?

Real.

What does that word or thought mean? Real, so we can touch it? Real, so we can see it? Real, because we taste it, smell it, hear it? Or does it require all of these to constitute real? How about real, because we sense it in that place inside that is yet to be named and defined? We all know it exists. We all know that it isn’t a mere 6th sense, an intuition only. It is a myriad of sensations, probably all serving a specific purpose of receiving information and deducting knowledge, but we don’t know or label them in specific terms. Does that mean they are not there? There is so much that science cannot prove. Isn’t that exciting?

So, do we have both, physical and non-physical realities, working within our brains and bodies simultaneously? Where is the line drawn between biological and spiritual, or is it imperative that a line not be drawn? These are things my mind, body and soul know and do well; yet I do not know the answer. No proof of anything on this most basic level of knowing vs. perceiving, reality vs. imagination.

So, if we live in imagination only, then it can be assumed that we have choice over our path. Destiny and fate is different all together isn’t it! It relinquishes control. Does one have to believe in and accept destiny for it to affect their lives? If you allow destiny to navigate your course, it does; is that how it works? Or is it a plan you simply participate in, but can’t decide on? Perhaps we are creators. Perhaps we decided on some paths to be presented before we were born physically and now rely on ourselves to make the most of them.

So many questions. And we all have one of these spider webs. Are they at mercy to the winds? They make such an enormous net, colliding and tangling and releasing. Either way we approach it, imaginary world or solid physical world to live in, our brain’s capabilities are as incomprehensible as the word forever.

It’s like the question “Can you measure forever?” “Can you imagine forever?”

Or another question “Is there one pure truth in every situation? Or does each individual involved have their own individual truth?”

I guess what we believe is our choice. But that doesn’t mean it’s the truth.

Wednesday, November 10, 2010

Don't Drink the Water: A Protest

A protest.

I have reason to protest. Several reasons I have to protest, actually, but maybe I can somehow connect the dots between them and have many of them on this page looking smartly together, as one enormous, boat-rocking, mother of complaints. Complaining- sometimes a pain in the ass, sometimes what saves your ass.

Before you read this and call me a conspiracy theorist, please know two things. 1- That has a negative stigma on purpose. Powers That Be don’t like to be questioned and they make it inconvenient for public popularity intentionally. 2- If that is your label for me, I am okay with that. I question authority. So did our nation’s founders. I keep good company. We welcome new members…

The source of my extreme discontent happened when I was in the kitchen making dinner for both Nick and myself, and he had come home from work looking handsome bundled in his taupe J.Crew sweater, and the initial conversation turned abruptly to politics. I know what you think here- that my mood shifted because we said hello, we gave kisses, he let the dogs enthusiastically jump all over him showering him with good, old fashioned puppy love, and then we hurdled straight into the thick muck of politics. No. My anger came from topic number 1 on the list of many irritating topics.

Airport Security and TSA’s threatening new approach to avoid danger within a huge cloud of undefined boundaries called war on terror.

Complete harassment.

Hear me out. This is a screening device that uses radiation to capture an image of an individual. It makes clothing transparent and photographs a person essentially naked. Another individual (presumably professional, intelligent, incorruptible, and ethical) takes the shot, inspects your body, and once determining you are of no threat, lets you proceed on toward the gates and terminals of the airport.

Do I need to repeat?

Because I feel that I am in an extreme minority of red blooded Americans who shout “W.T.F.!?”

I have so many things to say about issues such as this that my head spins and since last night I’ve written at least eight essays in my head about these matters. Distraught! Last night, we were discussing this piece of equipment that was introduced to the public rather conveniently, just before more airport scares were reported through the news waves (Try it. Take a couple steps back for a few weeks and watch this dog and pony show. It’s so obvious and lame.) and how the officials are enforcing its use with tactics of intimidation and flat out bullying. I have not only watched several videos and news broadcasts concerning this issue, but have heard first hand accounts of what the new screening process is like. Let me clarify that, the only sensible and actual accounts are given via first hand relay and personal video. The media is just a mouthpiece. They pose no valid or aggressive argument for a reasonable debate to pursue. Here’s what I saw on the news.

“Yada, yada, yada, and that’s how the new screener works, and if you opt out, you are groped by workers, palms inward.” Says on-scene reporter.

“Oh, wow.” says anchorman as he turns toward a female standing stage side, “How do you feel about the machine? Are you comfortable with this?”

The woman replies with her repulsively nonchalant attitude, “Who cares? I’ll just walk through the machine. I mean, whatever.”

Cut to me, the viewer at home who has scared my parents, who I think are being way to calm about this report that applies to us all, by screaming “ME!!!! I care you, (insert many explicit terms here)! What is wrong with you people? Wake Up!”

So, now that I am back at home and my husband and I have let the conversation topic fall to the new screening machines, you can see why my mood shifted dramatically and I began yelling again, this time over my stove. I just don’t get it. I really, really, really don’t get it. How are people ok with this? How are people not screaming from the rooftops like me? Is it because they believe this is developed for our safety? This is needed to ensure we can travel safely?

Here is my side of the argument.

1. A most basic angle, the radiation this device uses is NOT SAFE. It is not healthy. The pilots refuse to use it, I’m sure no federal level employee will be subjected to it, pregnant women sure as hell should never go through it, it’s not good for your human body. And for God’s sake, I saw children lined up having to use it. Three little girls with their hands up in the air being photographed with a machine that digitally strips them. Last I checked this is defined as child pornography. Oh, that’s right, if the government does it, it’s not illegal. Just like Nixon said, if the President does it, it’s not illegal. I must have been temporarily sane to think something about this looked fishy. Let me snap out of it and get back in line with insane morons that line up and go through this machine and even worse let their seven year old daughters go through too. I don’t even care if I offend others. I will feel securely as I say, “If you go through one of these machines, You Are An Idiot!”

2. I’ve hinted toward the complete invasion of privacy that brings me to number two. Seriously, we are letting people see us naked? We let these people (remember these are other flawed human beings) inspect our bodies naked on a daily, casual occurrence? Do you think it will stop there? Pretty soon they will have these things at every event that gathers a massive crowd. Soon, “authorities” will be looking at us all in the buff anytime we want to go do something unique and fun. “No, sorry, ma’am. I really need to check right here, right between your legs, to see if you possibly have weapons or drugs there. What? No! I wasn’t fondling you, really; it’s my job. It’s for our nation’s security.” I can see it now. My point is NO ONE HAS THE AUTHORITY TO TAKE ADVANTAGE OF YOUR PERSONAL AND SACRED BODY. You can and should say “No.”

And, if you do say no, what then? They yell loudly to call attention to you- “Opt Out!” and then the person next to them yells “Opt Out!” and so on, down a line of officials and they take you to the side where they use their hands and feel you up. Not kidding. I saw it. They go under your boobs, they put their hand so far up between your legs their hand disappears in between your booty cheeks, and they not-so-tenderly feel you up. Uncomfortable at the words? Imagine being the person they grope. They can tell you to lift your skirt. They can put their hand down your pants. I saw it. It’s not made up. And do you think that there aren’t individuals that take delight in their overnight power over the measly, ordinary traveling citizen? They have power of you now. The ultimate corrupter. Power. Control. You have to do this or else. And if you say no again, you get escorted to a back room where they force you to or you can’t travel.

God Bless America. Land that I Love. Home of the Free. Home of the Brave.

(By the way, I’ve already heard of stories where these ethical monitoring workers have posted images online of celebrities naked. On men, let’s just say, the secret is out. You see it all.)

3. Is this going to help with safely flying the friendly skies? Let’s see. That’s what they want you to think and say. Because if that is the reason they pose, then if you don’t agree, you are shameful and not patriotic, right? But, even if it is the real reason behind wanting to position complete domination over the public, it isn’t going to help. It isn’t valid. Corruption gets things done. Not monitoring the already cooperating general public of grannies and fourth graders. These sophisticated, threatening groups work at a more criminal level of thinking. They pay people off. They get it done because they find a weak link. Duh.

4. If the reason is not for safety, what is it for? As I said before, the thing that makes men turn is power aka control aka money. People like to say “Money is the root of all evil.” Wrong. Money is a tool. Money is an inanimate object. Money is a device that a human’s character is reflected through. Money is a great tool for good deeds. Money is in turn a tool for bad deeds. Money gives a person control over another, or a situation. Money can also give freedom to another. It’s all about how the holder uses it. If you are a citizen of the United States of America and you get used to being personally invaded, what does that mean? If you are passively allowing the government officials to humiliate, degrade, take advantage of, or bully you what does that mean? If you bite every bait they give you as a reason when deep down inside you know it doesn’t make sense, it doesn’t add up, what does that mean? Simple. That means they control you. That means you are not in fact free at all. That means you are doing something against your will at every turn because someone, no doubt with a gun, is telling you that you have to. Control. It’s already started. Long ago it started, but it is in sprint mode now. What are we all going to do? Allow? This is why I was yelling last night. Because for someone to say with a flippant attitude, “whatever, I don’t care” when it comes to issues like this makes me irate. We all should care. If a person is too lazy to care for their own rights, please care for mine, and everyone else’s that you are instead helping to destroy with your arrogant and too-cool approach to serious and escalating problems. I get mad because I see that we are not free. We stand on street corners and talk about how proud we are to be free. Some dummies even say, “We are the only free nation on earth.” No, actually we are ranked number 26, moron. We aren’t even in the top rankings. See, propaganda works. There is a reason why every power hungry nation has used the same tactics. “Tell them they’re free, don’t worry, they’ll believe it. Hey, just put fluoride in the water and they won’t even be able to debate the issue in their own mind.” (TRUE. Look it up. CDC employees state that they have known for a long, long time that fluoride is dangerous to consume and actually causes a decrease in intellect. Hmmm… must be accidental then, that they continue to distribute it in ever increasing quantities to the American public.)

But, you see, it is all coming down to this.

You can have it one of two ways. 1. Say you are free and mean it. Say you are free and know what freedom means. Say you are free and stand up for your self-evident, God ordained rights, remember those? Say you are free and say “No, I will not let you strip me of my rights, literally or figuratively.” Or 2. Admit you aren’t. Comply and allow this type of invasion to go on left and right, but don’t disrespect the word freedom and say you have it. Say instead that you settled for a dominated, controlled society. Don’t you dare let this type of ruling continue unopposed and then babble about your liberty. That is not American as it was intended. That is a disgrace. Americans should not be walked over by their own government, remember, it was set as a system to purely reflect its citizens and not dictate them. To give respect to mankind and not demean it. Its authority was intended to be limited. No kings. No dictator. No tyranny.

Americans are giving power to those who were never supposed to have it.

Now, with that initial rumbling going through my mind last night, I ate dinner, bitched the entire time about all the above statements, then checked an email sent to me entitled “Americans are NOT supid” conducted by an Australian media. Boy, oh boy, oh boy! It was devastating. Nick and I thought “They had to pay these people right? To pretend to be this stupid?” Then, I was thinking about all these facts and figures I saw about things just as the Fluoride treatments I spoke about earlier and reconsidered. Perhaps, it is just taking root. It is working. Because, my friends, you can’t be this dumb naturally. Granted they most likely edited the heck out of it and excluded all intelligent to semi-intelligent replies they gathered on the streets. But, quickly you realize that that fact doesn’t even matter. If anyone, much less multiple people, is this stupid, we are in deep dung. Oh, yeh, try not to think about the point that these are our voters. And our voters decide on our nation's leaders. And our nation's leaders impose and promote national and worldwide policies.

No, don’t Rock The Vote. Respect The Vote. LEARN.

The questions these people were stumped on are the following:

1. Name a country that starts with the letter U. None of them got it. I immediately said Uruguay for some reason, but that was random, not wrong. Of course the obvious answer is… United States of America! But, Uruguay is a country with a beginning letter of U. The other answers were Yugoslavia, Utah!! Yes, Utah… and then the others didn’t even know and stood there with a look of astonishment on their faces.

2. How many sides does a triangle have? Answers- “2!” And the best “None! Wait, 1?”

3. What is the religion of a Buddhist monk? Yeh, no clue. Some wise guy said "Catholic, I think." And I think technically Buddhism isn’t a religion, or both a religion and philosophy, but that’s a step past the question, right? Wouldn’t you say Buddhism right off the bat?

4. How many kidneys does a person have? Overwhelming reply of “1!” As Nick pointed out “Didn’t they hear the s on kidneys?” He’s right, they were prompted to say at least two by the way the question was formed. Plural.

5. And then, some thought that Barack Obama was the leader of Al Qaeda. They weren’t certain of our own sitting President. Not, I’m not certain about this guy… do I like him? More like, I’m not sure who Barack Obama even is. Yes, really. I know. Now go throw up. It’s okay. It’s a typical reflex.

Some interviews were conducted outside of voting polls. Horror!!

So, after hyperventilating over airport tyranny and then seeing that every citizen knew something about pop culture but couldn’t even recall the year in which 9/11 took place (sad to say, some didn’t know the month or day either!) or which two U.S. cities were affected or they thought millions died in the event- no concept of what happened really, and sadly, I couldn’t veer away from the train wreck. I did surf the news. I wanted to see coverage of the rocket that popped out of the ocean off the coast of California… nothing. I saw one blipit. It was a man sitting on the screen saying with a straight face that it could have been a small airplane and that it was an optical illusion that made it look like a missile or rocket. For real? I said, “He’s gotta be kidding! Do they think we are all idiots?” Then I looked at Nick and we both sat in silence because we had only just before witnessed that terrifying display of street side knowledge. No doubt, many of these people didn’t even realize that this event occurred, much less demand an explanation.

A series of questions.

If the government we’ve been told is so good is doing such bad things knowingly, secretively, continuously, regardless to its citizens welfare and concerns, does this make them a Government FOR the People still, as we’ve been led to believe it is?

If the government is made of people that are idealistic and enter office wanting to genuinely do good things for their country, yet they all become oddly persuaded to join the same team of causes, does this mean that it may not be the government, that is made of men (willing or unwilling, but still corrupted), leading the corruption, but joining it?

If the government is corruptible, then what group, association, or person is doing the corrupting?

Follow the money trail; find the control center.

Who makes the money and who calls the shots?

Where does the money lead us?

To The Federal Reserve. They are a private bank run by elitist individuals/families that make the money, or more correctly make monetary policy, not physically create a dollar bill, but instruct its making, for the United States of America to borrow. They then charge interest. The country pays interest back to the bank by using taxed money. All tax dollars that the government collects from us, We the People, goes straight toward interest, none toward infrastructure. It’s like a bad credit card deal.

Why can’t the U.S.A. make it’s own money?

It can.

Why do we let another institution do that for us then, to then charge us interest when we could do it for ourselves and avoid extra interest?

Bingo!

The trillion dollar question.

When I ask, “Why are we all letting the Federal Reserve run our country? Why do we let them direct the printing of our money at a discriminating rate, never backed by actual worth aka gold, and charge interest that we can never catch up on? Why is our country’s daddy, rather, sugar daddy a private banker? Why did we allow this knowing that our Founding Fathers warned against a central bank?”

Now, I know my answer. Because many people do not know that we have a Federal Reserve, or what it is, or what it does, and they don’t care. They don’t care that our country is bought. They don’t care that our freedoms depend on what suits the Bankers, people who want one thing- control. People are okay, complacent, fat and happy.

People don’t know that an Amero is already proposed, just as the Euro was and was adopted. People don’t know that these scanners aren’t for welfare but for manipulation. They terrorize me; the thought of them is scary. Who is on our side after all?

A saying. It goes like this…

How do you trap a pig/sheep?…can’t remember which one is used. Both are interchangeable for Americans though, so pick your preference.

You put food in a field.

Pig/Sheep comes to eat. Yummm.

Next Day. Build a fence, put food by the fence in a field.

Pig/Sheep comes to eat. No worries…

Next Day. Build adjacent to the first fence, another side to the fence and put food down.

Pig/Sheep comes to eat. Curious… but, oh well, whatever, what’s the harm?

Next Day. Build a third side to fence. Put food down in the middle of the three sides.

Pig/Sheep comes to eat. These fences? Yeh, I’m used to seeing them, no big deal. I have nothing to worry about. I am being fed and I trust.

Next Day. Do the same.

Pig/Sheep comes to eat. Pig/Sheep looks up after eating. Hey, wait… where did that fourth fence come from? I’m trapped, there must be a mistake.

No mistake… you walked into a trap because you were conditioned to fences and not noticing a threat. Now you are controlled.

Only now do you smell bacon.

What is serving as a fence around us? Why do they want us controlled, trapped, weakened?

The good news, the news that after all of this grim revealing of sleaze and slime is beneficial for all of us is this:

They can’t get rid of us so easy. They may try conditioning techniques. But, we have an advantage of spirit, which ranks ahead of intellect. Americans demand freedom. The problem is- knowing what freedom looks and feels like. They keep pacified the masses by cleverly persuading them into believing they are free. Do you buy it? Once Americans realize their freedoms are disappearing, not so mysteriously, like milk and cookies for Santa, they will be in uproar. (It’s a nice story and we don’t really want to open our eyes and learn the truth; but alas, there is no Santa. When are we going to see the unpleasant truth? It is unfortunate we have yet to see... What will it take?) But, as always, spirit is what wins. Only 5 percent of the colonies’ people fought the (then) most powerful military on the face of the planet, the British military, and won. Barefoot. Freezing. With no military experience. Young. Old. With no real pay. With no benefits and barely any weapons, but with spirit and want. And a friend called the French to help, but that is another story that we tend to conveniently forget.

People, get pumped up! Remember who you are! Don’t oblige! If you don’t want radiation and naked screening, use your own power. Don’t buy the tickets. Don’t travel. The airlines starve, they push back on the regulations causing it all, and eventually you win. They control the money, you see, because they take it from us and we let them. Use your own power, collect all of us together and they have to follow the money trail too, and then voila… control center has shifted… to WE. Where it is supposed to be. There are things we can do to stop this crazy stripping of everyday freedoms and rights. We can say “No.” We can say, “Fine, then see how well funded you are without our hard earned money.” Don’t just give in and let.

What about you? Do you think I am right? Do you think I am wrong? Do you think you’d like to look it all up and see for yourself? Think what you want, but think deeply about it, feel deeply about it.

And meanwhile, “Don’t drink the water.”

Friday, November 5, 2010

Cleopatra conquers "Ladies Man"

A tardy report.

I have been meaning to post entry in the several days since I last did and have become sidetracked by all of my darting around Georgia (I am now in Athens). With all of the juggling of bags and dogs and other necessities, the coordinating of people and meet-up times and locations, and the finalizing of projects, well- I have been a slacker writer. As one of Nick's old college golf teammates and former roommates said to me this morning, "Y'all are the traveling-est couple of people I know." We do move around a lot. Either we are really moving- home and all, or we are jumping from location to location, whether it be a long distance or short, we are en route. I remember in 2008 we moved all of our belongings to Saint Simons Island to unpack and then pack again and move it all to storage in Atlanta. Nick did a project Cabo San Lucas and I did work on our house in Atlanta. We moved in and unpacked fully, and then only months later packed it all up again to move to Edenton, NC. And when I say 'we' packed, I mean 'me'. And that was just since 2008. When we lived in Anguilla we moved five times in one year. I said it before and it is true still. Gypsy Queen.

Recently I have noticed something new. I have been saying, "It will be good to get home." Home! I have acknowledged Edenton as home. Before, I liked it very much but was quick to say that it didn't feel like home, I didn't claim it as my own, I didn't feel a sense of belonging between the town and me. And with this trip south I see that I have slowly moved toward establishing my new world as home. Significant, this is... very noteworthy.

But, before October's shadow is out of sight, here is my past due report.

November 1, day after Goblin Madness:

H to the A to the L-L-O--- WE to the E to the N.O.
Just kiddin'.
I said "Y.E.S, of course" to the Halloween and trick-or-treating festivities that my sister's kiddos wanted to share with me and the verdict is... this Grump stands corrected. It was fun. Granted, the neighborhood was full of small children, as it should be, and the parents all walked along or performed door duty with a cheerful attitude or beer in hand or both- participating and proud. My sister's bunch dressed as the cast of Peter Pan for the night. Tinkerbell, Captain Hook, and the Indian. I improvised- put my hair in a high floppy bun and put a red tulle bow around my neck, painted lips red and drew polka dots around my eyes. Pretty good for a Grinch, right? I took little China too and put her red collar on. My mom said "What are you supposed to be? A floozy?" I dismissed this immediately. The shirt I had on was one of my own (with a really neat beaded, detachable neckplate with satin ribbon I might add) that I had already been wearing. I responded, "No... I am... Nothing In-particular." My niece, Katherine, looked at me with bewilderment, trying to understand the appeal, but thrilled that I had decided to be the usual whacked-out, unpredictable Aunt. (A role I adore filling.) As for my off the cuff costume name, I am not exactly funny. I already admitted that. I do trip myself out in my own head though.

We hit the 'hood hard and by the time the sixteen year old crashers came to the door I didn't even have time to frown because Paige had run out of candy. Which means I was spared the task of looking upward as a 6 foot tall Frankenstein asked me, with his husky voice, for a Snicker's bar. The night was then dedicated to answering Madeline. "I ohn canny! Be'a, canny?" (translation: "I want candy! Beth, candy?) Grinch duty resumes, "Nope." Per Mommy's orders, I'm off the captain's hook. She is like a mini cookie monster with a charm worthy of a mythological siren. Take Odysseus' advice and plug ears, sail through until she forgets about the candy festival. My poor sister had to remain on the journey for nearly 48 hours until finally sweet Madeline had forgotten about sugar.

The best Halloween I had was not one dedicated to door to door action. I was in college and was dedicated to bar to bar action. October + Athens, GA and a valid reason to throw a party- you can imagine the hysteria. On an average week night Athens is insanely fun. Add masks and ghouls and presidential heads bobbing in the mix and one comes out with slurring satisfaction. Every time I turned around I saw a Bill Clinton head accompanied by a black-haired girl sporting a beret. And then there was George W., grinning and walking arm in arm with his pops. It was the easy way to get into the costume-required clubs; grab mask and go. Although, my now husband was even lazier and grabbed a fro, stuck it on his head and claimed it passed as Saturday Night Live's "Ladies Man". I was Cleopatra. A very proud Cleopatra. I wrapped myself in an Egyptian inspired robe, had gold arm bands on, and a gold cobra head dress. I didn't stop there. I sprayed my hair with black hair paint- like an idiot. I have really dark brown hair. I was going out at night. I was only coming in contact with people too drunk to know the difference in one or two shades of darkness on my locks.

Nevertheless, I channeled Cleopatra and walked around confidently, showing off my eye makeup that in my opinion looked just like what is shown in ancient hieroglyphics and Egyptian symbols. Later in the night Nick and I met up in a very romantic reuniting sort of way. He had been gone on tournaments and we hadn't seen one another in a long while, so we talked on our cell phones as we walked and found our way to the same corner and there Cleopatra and the "Ladies Man" had a movie worthy moment of hugs and twirls.

The night was great. I actually felt like a sexy Cleopatra who got my boy. That was until I looked in the mirror at the very end of the night. I was horrified. I had been running my fingers through my hair, as I always do, and then wiping my face, blotting my lips, you know, regular contact with the face. I had unknowingly painted a beard on my face. Cleopatra with full facial hair. Mortified!

It became funny soon after, because I didn't scare my boy off, but it was stupid that I thought I needed to darken my already dark hair with messy, smudging paint. Whatever though, Cleopatra worked. Her trance on men I borrowed and directed onto one, Nick Cassini. We were inseparable from then on. Best Halloween ever.

That is also, I realize only now, the last time I dressed up with full fledged enthusiasm. It may have been my own reflection that scared me away from the holiday! No, I exaggerate. I mean... I did have a black painted beard on my face, but I am full of false proclamation here. I am less grinchy than I put on... I think. Drama Queen, Gypsy Queen, hokus pokus... no difference. Magically, one is this, then changed to that... Abracadabra one minute here, then gone.

poof.