[ This was a draft from August 2nd I should have posted. ]

     Around this time two years ago, I went out a girl who was pretty fun.  We went and had dinner, and ended up playing darts for a while.  Just an easy hang-out-and-have-fun kinda night.  It was cool.  It was actually the first date I’d had that wasn’t a total friggin’ disaster.
     She was sweet, she knew how to laugh, and was a pretty damn good dart player, too.

     I didn’t kiss her goodnight.

     But she said she wanted to see me again.  And so, we made plans to meet that Friday night…

     Later that night, she called me to ask why I didn’t kiss her.
     “I wanna take it slow,” I told her.  “I don’t kiss… just, well, not until I get to know someone.”
     “Aww,” she replied.  “Did you like me and you’re trying to do the right thing?”
     “I had a great time, and I’m afraid I went the normal route, we’d end up going too quick and screwing everything up.  Ya know what I mean?”
     “Absolutely!” she resonded, ecstatically.  “I wanna take things slow, too.”

     We made plans for Friday at 8PM.

     Friday came around, and we were supposed to get together again.  I was already working in West Knoxville, so I called her at 7:30PM and said, “Hey, you hungry?  We could maybe leave a little earlier and go grab something to eat.”
     “How did you know I as off work?” she asked.
     “Uhhh, because we made plans to meet at 8PM?”
     “Yeah… Uhhh,” she stammered.  “I think I’m too tired.”
     “You think?”
     “Yeah, I’m too tired.  Sorry.  Maybe tomorrow.  We can go to Barley’s.”
     “Well, okay.  I was out here anyway, just thought I’d check.”

     The same kinda thing happened twice more.  I got a little pissed off about it.  It didn’t make sense, especially after getting back online and realizing she’d blocked and deleted me from everywhere, wouldn’t answer her phone or anything else.
     I chalked it up to nutjob, and did the Pirate Word for Healing — NEXT!  (Kudos to the Pirate Chicks!)

     So one night, a month later, I’m sitting at Catscratch Jane’s with Diva, Susan, Robyn, Becky, Mitzi and Niki — the pirate chicks — and who should call but my dear stand-up queen.
     “Hey, Mark, I just wanted to see what you were doing!”
     “Hanging out with friends… Why?” I asked.
     “Well, I thought maybe we could go somewhere and hang out.”
     It didn’t take much thought.  “Nah, you stood me up a few times, and no, I don’t think so.”
     Robyn, overhearing the conversation, got a little pissed off and grabbed the phone.  “You stupid bitch!  What the f$#& do you think you’re doing?  I’ll kick your ass, you stupid bitch!  You don’t f$#& with Mark Steel!”
     I wrestled the phone back, but, of course, she’d hung up.

     In June of 2007, dear psycho decided to contact me again via AIM instead of the telephone.

hey nark. how are ya?

Who’s this?

it’s [name deleted]. Just wonderin what yer up to.

Not much.  Just hanging out.

sorry I did what I did a few months ago. wasn’t ready for a realationship. you scared me.

Howso?

you were different.

Howso?

i d’know. you were really sweet. i had too many things on my plate and you knew how to laugh. such a diversion.

Diversion?

fun. really fun. i just wasnt ready. and your hot.

Thanks. But… Okay, what do you want?

sorry if your busy i’ll let you go.

No, it’s cool.  I’m not busy, just wondering…

well i broke up with my boyfriend. just wanted to hang out and maybe get to know you better.

Okay.  Well, what, same place?  Bailey’s?

tommorow night? around 7?

Sounds good.  See ya there!

     But I didn’t bother going.  Instead, some friends and I sat around and laughed about it.  Sure, it was childish, but it was funny.  I figured, hey, it’s the least I can do. 

hey what happened to you tonight?

Huh?

you were supposed to be at bailey’s

Ahh, sorry.  I’m just not ready for a relationship.

what?

Yeah, I have too many things on my plate.  Take care!

asshole!!!

Thanks.  G’nite!

     Tonight, she called me.  Asked if I wanted to meet her at Barley’s.  I said, “Sure, you want me to pick you up, or meet you there, or what?”
     “Well, how far as you?” she asked.
     “Oh, it’ll take me twenty minutes to get there.”
     “Yeah, me, too.  So you wanna just meet there?”
     “Yeah, let’s do that!” I told her.  “Wait around the front door… if you beat me there, I won’t be long!”

     After we hung up, I parked my ass on the bed and died laughing. 

     Haven’t heard from her since.  Wonder if she got the not-so-subtle hint?  *snicker*

     Revenge is sweet.

     [ This was a draft from July 28th that I should've posted. ]

     She pops up from over two years ago to say, “Hey, I’m sorry about what happened two years ago.”  Offers that the Wildcat and I can stay at her place since she has an unused upstairs with a couple bedrooms — a bargain at $200 a month.  I declined of course, because the place is pretty far away and, well, the bottom line is, I just don’t trust her.  I don’t know her, and after the way she acted two years, giving me an apology over Yahoo Instant Messenger really didn’t seem very genuine, anyway. 

     I fixed her computer via remote a couple of times.  She’d check in to see if I was okay, coping ok.  Left the Wildcat a couple of messages telling her how happy she was that we’d found one another.  Said we deserved that.

     But, much like she did two years ago, she falls into the “woman scorned” category because she decides, over Yahoo Instant Messenger, that she wants something a whole Helluva lot more than friendship.
     And somehow, I’m a jerk, having said, “No.  As you fully well know, I am taken, and you have no right to try and interfere in that.  I really don’t appreciate that.  I’m just not wired that way.”
     After that,  she had quite a few choice words…

     Something the Wildcat said a few months ago suddenly came back into my head, because she was right.  If I’m in a solid relationship with someone I truly care about, or even if I consider that I’m friends with someone, I am a little oblivious when they’re hitting on me until it gets pretty brazenly extreme. 

     This particular nutjob got extremely brazen. 

     So, I deleted and blocked her every way I knew how … including telephone.  Since I haven’t even laid eyes on her in two years, and she was so psycho then, why the Hell did I even trust her to begin with?

     Sometimes, I’m too forgiving.

     On April 11th, the Wildcat and I decided to move into a single-wide trailer out in the middle of nowhere.  On the 12th, the landlord, Janna Napier gave us a sob story about how she’s lost her job, the bank had frozen her assetts, her vehicle had been repossessed, and the only thing she had was this trailer.  She wanted us to take over the payments, and we agreed.
     She said she’d be out by Monday the 14th.  On Wednesday the 16th, she still didn’t have her things out.  I went over, and helped her carry the rest of out.  She left a ton of garbage, both in bags and in the floor.
     The Wildcat was sick, so it took us a couple of extra days, and finally moved in on the 19th.  It was filthy.  There was water all over the kitchen and laundry room.  Janna had said she spilled baby water over there, but even after cleaning it up, there it was.  The fridge and appliances were covered in goo inside and out.  The place had never been vaccumed or mopped.  Toilets never cleaned.
     “I’m sorry about the mess,” she said.  “But I’ve been living with my boyfriend for the last year.”

     On the 20th, the Wildcat was lying in bed while her daughter and I continued to try and clean and rearrange things.  Here came our landlord, silent, not saying award, on the verge of tears.  She just stood there in the middle of the place, looking like she was going break down.
     “Are you okay?” I asked her.
     She shook her head.  A long, uncomfortable silence passed.
     “I’m broke,” she said.  “I can’t pay the electricity bill, and I haven’t paid the mortgage for April.” 
     I gave her $320.  I took the $183 Electricity bill and paid it online later that weekend. 
     “But it’s due again on the 1st.”
     “I can’t afford that until I get paid,” I told her.
     She whimpered away.
     When I caught her sister outside later, I asked, “Is Janna okay?”
     “Yeah, she’s like that when she misses her meds.  She’s just… well… just Janna!”

     And so, on the 26th, I found her behind her sister’s house, and in sight of her sister, I paid for May.

     On May 6th, the air conditioning went out.  I called her cell phone repeatedly to ask her about it.  She wouldn’t return my calls.
     Eventually, I went to her mother, Connie Hubbard, who worked in the Administration office at the Hospital.  I told her the situation.  Janna had apparently called her and told her about it.  Connie assured me that someone who be there to look at it.
     “Here’s our numbers,” I said as I gave them to her.  “I work all day and she’s working nights.  We need to schedule it.”

     Nothing happened.  Weeks past. 

     I called Janna on May 17th.  “Janna, it’s been almost two weeks.  What’s going on?”
     “What do you want me to do about it?” she said.
     “Excuse me?”
     She hung up on me.

     I got another Electricity bill, in the meantime, up to April 20th, for $48.  I paid it, too.

     I was pissed.  I vented about that situation to a few people, including some of her family.

     “Withhold her rent,” they said.  “I would!  There’s no sense in that!”

     I went home to find AC water all over the hallway.  I spent hours cleaning it up, and found that the overflow had been completely blocked because in all the time Janna had supposedly lived there, she never changed a filter.  It took hours cleaning up the AC condensors and unplugging the overflow drain.  But it was all no avail … the blower motor control unit was damaged after years of her neglect of the furnace.  The water had shorted it.

     On May 23rd, Janna showed up and brought me the mortgage payment book … which was actually an 8.5×11 sheet of paper with four check-looking things on it. 
     “We need out air conditioning fixed, Janna.”
     “Ok, he’ll be out here tonight or tomorrow.”

     On May 26th, I called her and left her a message that I would not be paying rent until she fixed the AC.  Plain and simple.

     No one came.

     No one called.

     Now, as we’re moving out, Janna is trying to claim that we never paid her rent.  That we are two months behind.  That we’ve destroyed her home by smoking and having pets that she didn’t agree to.  Horseshit.

     Problem is, I paid full price for partial month in April at $320.  I paid full price for May at $320.  I paid $241 (or thereabouts - I’m trying to remember off the top of my head) for her past-due Electricity bill.  I helped her carry her things out because she just couldn’t do it by herself (she whined).  We spent five days cleaning up her filth to the tune of NINE garbage bags full of garbage she’d left about the place.  I spent four hours making sure the AC didn’t leak all over the kitchen, utility and hall floors again.  I attempted to fix the blower motor, but it appears that the relay is bad from having water dumped on it for all those years.

     I called Janna and explained why I don’t owe her, and she hung up on me.  I called back and detailed everything, twice, to her voicemail.

     Next, her mother, Connie Hubbard, called me to rip me a new asshole.  She was rude and demeaning, and called me a liar the entire conversation.
     “Do you have receipts?  Then you didn’t pay it!”
     After repeatedly attempting to defend what I was saying, eventually, I gave up.
     “I am sick to death of you people from that town calling down here to wind me up when I haven’t done anything and you can fuck yourself, you cunt!”

     And she’s threatening to sue the Wildcat and I — claiming that we lived there four months, when reality and simple math show that we lived there two months, and it’s taking us a couple more days to move out.  It’s hard to do in that kind of heat with no AC.
     And Connie Hubbard called last week and said, “Don’t worry about the two holes.  Janna’s letting that trailer go back anyway.”  Yet, this week, everybody’s calling and cussing me out and degrading me and calling me a liar telling me I have to fix the holes.
     Mr Alan Osborne, benefactor of Ms. Napier, is seriously bitching the holes in the wall — and telling me the place was pristine when we moved in.  Clearly, he never saw it.  He’s going to get an estimate and sue me for the damage when he could just as easily pick up a patch kit and Clayton for $30 and have it installed in about forty-five minutes — and even match the crappy wallpaper.

     What they are doing is clearly against the Landlord/Tenant Act.  And again, friend of a frend, I trust too damn much.  I am allowed, by law, to withhold rent when they’re not fixing anything.  I’m also allowed to say, “It cost this much to keep the water from dripping and ruining the floor worse.”  Wonder what my four hours is worth?

     For a woman who may have never lived in the house, she sure managed to mess it up.  Instead, she lives with a guy who takes care of her and her daughter.  Now she’s claiming that we’ve destroyed HER house (where she hasn’t lived in over a year), and that she can’t afford to feed her child.  What?
     There was some MINOR damage (two holes in a 1×1 foot hold in the dry wall in the living room), however, that’s a $60 repair any way you look at it.  Caused by extreme frustration.  You try living in a trailer for a month with no air conditioning, you’d prolly get frustrated, too.

     But I am sick to death of these nonconfrontational assholes now turning tails and kicking the Wildcat when she’s down.  That is beyond reprehensible.  And I will not allow that situation to continue when we’ve done nothing wrong to any of those useless bastards!

     And so, Janna E. Napier and Connie Hubband get the Asshat of the Day award.

     Two women who seriously Can’t Understand Normal Thinking.  Janna’s money problems are not my problem.  The fact that she’s lost everthing she had?  Not my problem.  I didn’t sign up to be a benefactor for someone who’s obviously so bad with money that she can’t buy her own child food to eat. 
     I believe that’s what Welfare and Family are for, dear.  Except that it’d be a lie considering you’ve been being supported by one Alan Osborne for a over a year, now, wouldn’t it?

     So you want publicity, ladies, there it is.  You wanna lie about my character, I’ll tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth about yours.

     I’ve known some amazingly nutty women, but this news story made me realize I’m not alone.

Police say that on June 14, the woman put Visine in the 32-year-old male friend’s drink without his consent, causing him to suffer vomiting, rectal bleeding and difficulty breathing…

On July 6, police said, the woman, using a metal cane, encouraged a large pit bull to attack the man’s Chihuahua, killing it.

…

Police … charged her with second-degree assault and third-degree criminal mischief.

     I can’t help but wonder what the relationship was between this woman and the object of her fury, as I’ve had the same sort of thing happen by a couple of women I was never even with.

     Sometimes, however, I’ve had some pretty frightening post-relationship encounters with ex-girlfriends, too.  Those sorts of blow-ups usually result in my racking my brain trying to figure out what I did to deserve it.
     Fortunately, this video clarified the issue, and now I know exactly where I went wrong:

(Video: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fUGKtXz2fCM)

I have never been interested in meeting anybody in an online setting.  I crusied some of the sites and even checked out some of the adult type friend sites.  But, when it came right down to it.  I never met anyone because I’m too much of a chicken shit.

I mean you hear horror stories of people meeting in person and one or the other, or neither of them, is what they claimed they were.  Or look like that picture they sent you. 

Call me old fashioned, but when I was looking to meet somebody, I would rather it be over the cucumbers in the produce section of the local Piggly Wiggly, or maybe over a goofy “cooking for one” book at the library.

I joined MySpace last year to comment and cut up with my REAL LIFE FRIENDS.  I never accept “friend requests” from people who I have never met in MY REAL LIFE.  Nor do I ever randomly pour through page after page of people requesting them to be my friends.  No.  If I don’t know ya in real life, then you’ll never make it past the gate.

I know more than a few people who have met their significant other online (eHarmony, Match.com, MySpace…) and who have actually made it for a minute.  But I know of none who has made it for the long haul.  Why?

Well, in this day and age, it seems that those in the online dating community just shift around.  Maybe its because there are so many available folks out there just lookin for love in all the wrong places. 

It’s a meat market for reals.  But, it’s not like a meat market as a bar would be.  No.  Say you go to your favorite bar or club.  Yah, it’s a fashion show.  Yah, everybody is there hoping to meet someone unless they are there with someone.
But, at least you now when you are talking to them face to face, they aren’t sitting there browsing profiles of others while they are talking you up.

I don’t know.  I guess I was jaded, or tainted against this kind of crap.  I’m not a very trusting individual since a guy I was seeing in the last century was a total computer dork that (I found out later) was always looking at online personals and profiles. 

Now you’re prolly sitting there thinking, why is she going off on this lame ass tanget?  What the hell pulled her trigger today?

Well, friends, I’ll tell ya.  There’s a dumb-ass on AOL and yahoo who surfaces now and again thinking we’re the best of friends.  Before MySpace, he used to comb AOL profiles and email unsuspecting females.  I guess so he would have someone to talk to or whatever.  Anyway, I guess it was middle of last year, after he joined MySpace, he surfaced again, showing 198360876 (exaggerated for impact) friends, all of which are female.  Which proves my point.  Or maybe it doesn’t.  I’m sort of annoyed right now.

So, today on my little yahoo messenger thingy, I posted my status as “I’ll never paint again, swear to God!”    And I guess it piked his little curiousity button somehow.  So, he (out of the blue) decided to IM me…  Lord have mercy… 

The conversation went a little somethin like this:

Dork:  ok, I just gotta ask why won’t you ever paint again?

Me: Because I have no feeling left in my arms from painting over dark colors with white like I promised my landllord. lol

Dork:  see you should of called me you know thats whats i do for a living**** 

****NOTE:  Actually, I didn’t know that, but whatever

Me:  Nopie, didn’t know that.

Dork:  yes i told you when we first started talking i remodel houses for a living

Me:  How long ago was that though?  And how long has it been since we talked?  Prey tell, do you remember what I do or from what locale I hail?

Dork:  only couple days…lol just kiddon and in winter months

Me:  No, it was well before last summer.  And as I recall I wasn’t interested in talking to you because you find it to be wonderful to collect women friends online. 

Dork:  no it wasnt you must be thinking of that other man lol

Me:  I talk to no other men, other than the one I’m about to marry****

**** NOTE: That is not all together true.  I have REAL LIFE FRIENDS that are male and I certainly talk to them.

Dork:  see

Me:  See what?  You act like you know me.

Me:  He lives with me, I don’t talk to him online  (Also not completely true, he lives with me part time until we actually jump on the weddin train)

Dork:  well that’s cool

Then the dork went silent and didn’t bother me anymore.  I just get irritated that people have so little value for someone else’s time I suppose. 
Anyway, he is like every other person out there waiting to see some long lost person they added on to their buddy list, so they can feel important because they are chatting it up.

GET A LIFE!

     Tonight, I’ve had to put up with no less than forty text messages from a specific number.  Since 7PM.  I’m really getting sick of it, especially after coming back to my phone at 11:30PM and finding 14 new messages.

     “Your [sic] a(n) asshole/cheater/loser/liar”
     “Why dont [sic] you want to talk about things”
     “SLIMEBAG CHEATER GO TO HELL”
     “____ was my friend first until you turned them against me”
     “I HOPE YOU GET AIDS AND DIE”

     Mind you, I’ve had a busy night.  I certainly don’t feel I should have to put up with crap like that.  Eventually, I’m gonna respond… asking them to stop sending me this crap, to leave me the Hell alone.
     Like anyone, you press my buttons long enough, I’m gonna respond.  The more you press, the more pissed off I’m gonna get.

     I nailed back three hard —

     “Stop f*#&ing messaging me.”
     “No … f*#& off.”
     “Enough is enough.  Stop it NOW.”

     I’ve been more than patient.  And I certainly don’t expect to start getting BS responses like:

     “Quit texting me!”
     “Leave me the f&$* alone!”

     Some people need to get lives.

     They should start by getting off the Internet a few hours a day…  The real world can be quite … titillating.

It’s funny to me when someone who you thought of as a friend will put money in front of friendship. Personally, I think that this leads you down the road to a very crappy worldview. But it is somewhat interesting to see how people will act over the essence of probable money. It can turn pseudo-friend into worse that foe; former lovers into insult slinging buffoons or business partners into vicious tax collectors. Unfortunately for me this is an overly large let down. For love of God, you would think that the loss of a loved or the end of ties one would cause all parties involved to want to remember the happy memories of the passed. Never would it drive a wedge between friends or even those you considered almost like family.

Why the reason for the sudden cutting of ties? Simply because one person received something from a loved one that was not a member of his or her biological family. This very seldom thing occurs when debt that should have vanished and be non-existent or sheer greed takes over the body. Now a person in this situation must deal with the repercussions of their own poor decision in order to fulfill a desperate need for attention. It is as if they never got enough time, money, or caring sentiments from anyone. (Which a majority of the other people involved know to be false.)

Second example, the insult slinging buffoon, however is also very similar in behavior to the scum sucking relative. He or she will differ in that during the separation process, he or she will sling names at your friends, family, and your own person. I for instance have become a “vindictive, selfish, unloving, unmotivated, immoral, c*#$sucking a$$hole.”

If I had not realized that this was coming from an insensitive, psychopathic, and lying cesspool of a person I would be taken aback.  I hate when a lover-ship sours like a nice white wine. At some point you never get what you invested. Nor do you come anywhere near close to where you started and it sucks the big one. By that point, the only thing unknown about the relationship is how long with the other party keep pestering you?

The worst candidate for pestering you is the business partner when that relationship goes sour. They are slightly more annoying since more of your personal finances tend to be tied into your business. In the same token there is fortunately more distance sometime since it is a legal partnership and can be broken with the assistance of a fabulous mediator. (Wonderful counselor, the prince of peace… well okay, maybe it’s not quite such a divine intervention, it just seems that way sometimes.)

Generally, the repercussions with any of these can (with my involved will,) end on a positive note. In the end the people who irritate or criticize me with no ground to stand on usually go away and leave me be. They quit calling, don’t e-mail, or write letters. Those who choose to drag it out, cause a scene, and raise a ruckus should seek professional help. Why not? Lord knows I will if I fall victim to dealing with any of these unpleasantries.

Okay. By now, we all know I am a big mouth girl, with an even bigger personality and a colossus opinion about most everything. So, it seems that lately, I’ve had plenty of time to sit back, watch and listen. And some of the things I have heard recently make me want to say, “Um. What?!?!?! Get a grip, you ditz!” This is merely one of them.

***You don’t like me because I’m fat, huh?***

During a discussion about male/female carrying ons, a male friend of mine, Spike*, told me that some girl had said this one to him because he wasn’t paying her the attention she felt like she deserved or wanted.

Oh, please, honey!

Will somebody please explain to me how women figure that if a man is not paying attention to them, or not “liking” them, or not fawning over them, then it’s surely because of that big ass attached to their backside???

First off, I wonder if she ever stopped to think, if a brother isn’t giving her skins, that maybe it’s not her fat butt… maybe it’s the beautiful personality that she displays constantly… You know, the personality that rivals Peyton Manning’s dripping wet sweat sock midway through the 4th quarter of the Superbowl?

B- What man is going to want you when you are oozing ickee-ness all over the bar, grocery store, or library by hitting on and trying to make out with anything and everything with a penis? Seriously, if I was a dude, and I saw a girl (any girl) hitting on one guy, getting the boot, then hitting on the next guy, getting the boot, then hitting on the next guy, getting the boot… I’m not so sure I’d be into her either. That’s just icky.

Thirdly and lastly (as if I don’t wrap it up here, I may keep going on and on)- Diva isn’t exactly a petite, Barbie doll sized girl of perfection.  Now Diva knows that, although men do dig up on the arm candy, they also love women who will laugh with them, talk to them and have a great time doing whatever it is they are doing. Diva does not, nor has she ever, suffered from lack of attention from the opposite sex. Because regardless of the size of her blue jeans, Diva has no lack of esteem.

Why?

It’s a little thing called self-confidence, sister. You might try looking that one up and studying on it for a minute.

Yup, yup. You don’t dig me because I’m fat…..That’s one of the lamest things I think I’ve ever heard.

*Names have been changed to protect the innocent AND the guilty.

     The only nice thing about being sick and having a high fever is that I’ll laugh at just about anything … At least today, I seem to be awake, whereas the last three, I’ve been pretty asleep the whole time.

     Apparently, Will Ferrell’s also got a Landlord from Hell… There’s some language, for those at work, but it’s hilarious.  Watch the video on its original site…

While the name of this blog may bring of thoughts of something racy, I am not talking about what is going on in Iraq, Kosovo, Afghanistan or Central and South America. I am speaking more in terms of visual pollution in the forms of endless websites, unyielding amounts of bumper stickers, and hours of wasted media coverage. Wasted on whom you ask? Local, homegrown, good ol’ American terrorists.

The first of these are those people who want you to realize, “Meat is no treat for those you eat.” Yes, it is the crazed vegetarians, who would rather you become sickly and dwindle to nothing rather than harm animals. Therein lies the problem. They put the well being of the animals they protect above their own. Kind of ridiculous in concept design alone, but they also have to spread their propaganda all over the Internet with websites like Peta and Peta2, not to mention all over Myspace pages and in e-mail.

The other major organization that we can collectively not care for is AIM, or the American Indian Movement, who keep a list of “U.S. Political Prisoners,” which is primarily a list of American Indians who have been incarcerated by the U.S. government for various reasons. The most illustrious of these, Leonard Peltier, is currently serving two consecutive life sentences for killing two FBI Special Agents on the Pine Ridge Indian Reservation. They are also major supporters of the “Sure you can trust the government, just ask any Indian” mentality, bringing forth their message of individual sovereignty for tribal groups in protests, writings, poetry and art.

That alone is not a major problem, but the way these groups spread their message like a disease (or the Baptist church) is the issue. The way they distribute propaganda, you will hear them out or go to hell: do not pass go, do not collect $200 dollars. Well, of the latter that is for sure, since it will go directly into their never ending, yet always almost empty coffers. Besides, someone has to start a large bumper sticker campaign. This is most popular amongst teenagers and adults who haven’t grown out of their activist past, which should have been left in the past (also see: the 60’s), and we would all say thank you.So, grow out of years gone by, as we have new ways of changing things other than just bitching now. You can always run for political office (see: Ben Campbell) and use the tools change things set forth by our founding fathers.