Why I Will Not Sign the Kroger Petition

Sorry, Paul Hogarth of Daily Kos, but I will not sign your petition telling Kroger that I am counting on them to keep customers and employees safe. That would be counter-productive and dishonest.

I called my local Kroger stores, and then the PR guy that one store was kind enough to refer me to. The answer I received was that allowing open carry is their policy and they are sticking to it. As you pointed out, I can’t go in without shoes or a shirt, or on a skateboard. I can’t smoke in their stores even though I would have to corner someone with a severe respiratory illness in tight quarters and chain smoke for years to kill him, but they will allow a crazy person (because no sane person brings a war machine into the grocery), with the ability to kill many people instantly, to roam the aisles.

Sorry, but no one gets a second chance with me. Now, I shop elsewhere and send Kroger copies of my receipts to show them what they are losing. I will never return to a store that changes policy only after first getting tons of publicity for being jerks, and then again for changing their mind (sorta/maybe,like Target). And I think everyone who participates in this groveling process enables other businesses to play this game.  

In addition, I have been calling businesses ahead of time to ask if they have a no smoking sign on the door. Employees who answer the phone know immediately that they do. Then, I ask if there is a no weapons sign next to it. Not a single person has been able to answer that question. Some won’t go look or transfer me to someone who knows. Some try their best not to answer the question since they don’t know which side I am on. I have told several places that I will just mark them off my shopping list, question unanswered.

I’m not going to shop on line with businesses that won’t protect me inside their stores, either. They don’t deserve my business.

Please, don’t participate in the craziness. Boycott. And never go back. That will send a message to all businesses so we don’t have to spin wheels and waste time going through this repeatedly. We look sorta silly when we do that.

cross-posted on Daily Kos 

Identifying a Snow Job (Metro Chamber of Commerce aka GLI edition)

Words matter. 

When drafting a page like this one from the Greater Louisville, Inc. website (www.greaterlouisville.com/AboutGLI/), the purpose is to put together words that will communicate a message that readers will find attractive. The less attractive the product or service is, the harder that project will be for the author. Fluff words and convoluted, meaningless tripe are necessary when the actual message would repulse the average reader.

To hear/understand the actual message, it is important to remove unnecessary fluff words, and then to dissect the meaning, context, and motivation behind choosing the remaining words.

The author of the GLI webpage deserves the golden turd for written bs (seriously, at one time, there was such an award). I will take you through the page and insert the red flags I found. Please, feel free to point out anything I missed. 

From this point on, my words will be in parentheses and italicized. The rest are from the GLI website. 

About GLI

Greater Louisville Inc. – the Metro Chamber of Commerce,  

(why don’t they call it the Metro Chamber of Commerce if that’s what it is? Could it be that people discovered a few years ago that the Chamber of Commerce is not a friend of workers and patrons?) 

is one of the region’s premier business organizations  

(Google the word premier and laugh with me, please. There is a premier bank, a premier home care agency, a premier pet products store, a premier tattoo studio, a premier league football news, etc. Every business that wanted to capitalize (pun intended) on the word premier, whether or not earned or explainable, uses the word premier in their description.) 

and the leading economic development agency for Greater Louisville.

(The is a word that matters more than most. A would have meant the author considers GLI one of more than one. The means the author absolutely states GLI is the leading agency.) 

(If I had some justification for stating I was the premier agency, I would include the justification here. It is missing on the GLI page.) 

Our purpose is to transform the community in pursuit of our 

(Our gets three red flags from me. They, an agency I have no respect for or trust in, want to transform me--I am part of this community--into their dream? Whoa. Be still my Adrenaline.)  

dream for the region to become an idea capital where imaginations and individuals thrive.

(What a string of nothing. I can just see a group sitting around a conference room table brainstorming words that everyone likes – dream! Imaginations! Individuals! I’m surprised Baby Jesus, veteran, kitten, and tax evasion didn’t make the cut.) 

We do so by increasing human capital,

(What does that mean? Are they birthing more workers for the community? Giving us money? Saving the people who can’t find their caps lock keys?) 

driving job creation  

(Driving? Hard to believe that’s the word this author wanted since it tells me nothing.) and entrepreneurship, maximizing

(Oh, can’t wait for the next line that tells me how they hope to do this) 

global opportunities and inspiring business leadership engagement on issues that impact the competitiveness of our region.

(Total brain freeze. My sarcasm does know some bounds. And guess I’ll have to keep waiting because they aren’t telling me how they hope to do this.)

Our Dream...

 
To become an idea capital of the world, where imaginations and individuals thrive.  

(Wow. Little ole Louisville the idea capital of the whole world. My huge imagination is finally going to pay off and this individual is going to thrive. Watch out world, and, grandkids, pack your bags for that island vacation I promised when I hit the jackpot.)

GLI is committed to the One Dream for our 26-county region .  

(Louisville has 26 counties? Or, do 25 other counties not have someone to write golden-turd-worthy websites for them?)

Our Purpose...  

 
To transform our community in pursuit of the dream.  

(This time it is the dream, not our dream.)

Our purpose is our organization’s reason to exist and our commitment to changing our region for the better.  

(Huh? My purpose is to be human, to age each day, and to state the obvious. How about yours?)

Our Strategy...

 
To lead

(I didn’t vote for them to lead me.)   

innovation and civic entrepreneurship…

(Why use ellipsis here? Is something missing? Are they admitting it is too vague? Are they reaching out to the right-wingers who think no sentence is complete without erroneous punctuation?) 

while maintaining a commitment to sustainable development – meeting the needs of the present without compromising our ability to meet the needs of the future. 

(Okay. I’ll see that load of pretentious bull and raise you this. A bigger load of delightful nothingness I have seldom seen.)   

We approach all we do from a strength-based position, 

(WTF? To quote Judge Judy, "Don't pee on my leg and tell me it's raining.")

building on the authentic assets of our organization  

(Please, do identify your authentic assets of your organization.)  

and our region.

We are focused on five priorities:

• Engaging  (Engaging how?) 

 supportive 

(Should I assume you will ignore the ones who don’t support you – as well as the non-stakeholders who live and work  in the community – specifically the people fighting for a raise in the minimum wage?)

stakeholders and delivering results

(Where do you detail the results you have in mind? I’m worried, especially since this follows your commitment to supportive stakeholders.)

 
• Funding our efforts through healthy finances  

(I get this. I totally get this. Who wants diabetic or anemic finances?)

 
• Expanding our chorus of raving customers who realize the value of Greater Louisville Inc. (If you don’t read anything else, this line is too good to miss. Their chorus of raving customers. I see them performing on street corners for coins often, don’t you?)

 
• Leading a passionate and talented staff through effective management practices

(In the spirit of tossing out any group of words that come to mind, I use a napkin when I eat.)

 
• Maintaining a commitment to being a learning and growth centered organization 

GLI’s dream, purpose and three-year strategy was adopted by GLI’s Executive Committee in November of 2010. It serves as an organizational blueprint for GLI and guides all its work.
Success against these objectives is measured by ambitious goals and tracked on its balanced scorecard.
 
Our Staff Values
Results-Oriented: Pursue Excellence
Collaborative: United in Work & Spirit
Flexible: Expect the Unexpected
Passionate: Driven to Achieve
Fun: Enjoy the Journey

(This page says nothing. Absolutely nothing. Please, think when you read and listen. Parsing words can be fun.)

Frank Simon of AFA Preys On Uninformed Kentuckians With Sensationalism and Lies

Each election cycle, the sinfully dishonest, gay-hating American Family Association of Kentucky sends out a letter similar to the one I'm posting here. Like their side-kick, the Good News Club, and in alliance with the Republican Party, they use military language to appeal to their millions of brainless followers because - you know - Onward Christian Soldiers, and good AFA Christians are such epitomes of weakness that they  just want to kill people who don't want to be like them. (Follow the last two links and you'll see that I can speak their language when mocking them.)

In true Republican form, they project their guilt onto others and capitalize words that are not proper nouns ("It's a propaganda war. It is being led by the Liberal Media and our own Public Schools.") And their lies would rival even those of Mitch McConnell, John Boehner, and Michele Bachmann (who accidentally told one truth about Jesse Benton).

Please, read this trash carefully. Notice that they first use their war language, then remind their prey that this is a war and they have been threatened, and then link Left Wingers, Muslim Terrorists, and One Worlders. Tell me their goals don't stop at scaring people, but also go on to incite violence.

The call on their brainless wonders to do three things: 1) pray, 2) organize, and 3) believe that Common Core is an "illegal pornographic federal education program" instead of a program to save their children from being as stupid as they are.

If I were a praying (or preying) person, I would pray that they all stop with number 1.

Be afraid. Be very afraid. 

 

He Never Did Like Rice

It was warm, so I sat outside, to eat my lunch in the sun
I met a man who'd lost his way, and didn't know anyone
He swallowed his pride, avoided my eyes,
and in a tiny voice, shared with me his plight

My stomach's churnin', feet are burnin', and my heart cries
He nodded his head, self-consciously said, he hadn’t eaten in nights
I offered to share my meal, and without thinking twice
He said thanks, you're awfully nice, but I never did like rice

He looked so sad standing there, I offered him a smile
Tried to show I truly cared, before he walked another mile
I didn't have a penny to spare, but I tried to be nice
Said I had enough to share, but he still didn't like rice

I see him nearly every day, on corners here and there
I still hear him ask, have you a dollar to spare
I always say a little prayer, please help him through the night
Let him know how much I care, even if he won't eat rice

He ages faster than he should, from sleeping on the street
Carries along a stick of wood, to aid his crippled feet
I'd help the man, if I could, his stomach pays the price
no matter how hungry he feels, he simply won’t eat rice

Could be rice was all he had when he was in Hanoi
Could be hunger isn't so bad, compared to life without joy
Or maybe choice matters more when it’s the only thing left in life
So he treasures the freedom - to voice his distaste for rice

Sandy Knauer, © July, 1998
 

Living My Dreams

Published on Gather, March 24, 2008 11:33 AM EDT

I am a dreamer in every sense of the word. I dream when asleep and when awake, literally and metaphorically. I observe some dreams, experience others, and occasionally receive messages through dreams.

Everything is possible for the metaphorical dreamer. I know I can do it, you can do it, and the world can be it. Cynicism will not embarrass, discourage, or stop me, because I know all things are possible and I will not give up. Playing a role in helping you realize your dreams excites me as much as my own accomplishments please me, sometimes more since I take pleasure in watching you enjoy your success. (If you don't want me to push you, it's probably best not to let me know your dreams.)

I was the strange child who looked forward to nap and bed times, and welcomed heads-down breaks in school because they gave me a chance to dream. Daydreams made my walks and drives to and from school and work bearable, often entertaining. I solved world problems, married a few movie stars, tried on new professions, and imagined many what-ifs. I am the even stranger mother and grandmother now that I insist everyone announce the wish aloud before blowing out the candles, because others will help your dreams come true if you let them know what you want.

My sleeping dreams are colorful, vivid, and detailed. Most of my dreams are pleasant; sleeping is like watching a movie. I've had nightmares and recurring dreams, with obvious (maybe not immediately) lessons. Most memorable is the recurring scenes in which I was unable to remove an article of clothing or, if I did get it off, it was covering another just like it. That dream arrived with my realization that most of what people had taught me about religion was a burden, not a truth. When I relieved myself of guilt by clearing up the messages that I had repeated to others, I was able to remove the clothing and the dreams stopped.

My dreams often remain in my subconscious upon waking, but I always have the ability to call them forward if I want. I can return to a dream if something wakes me before I am ready to give it up and, at times, I have kept a dream going for weeks, picking up where I left off as soon as my head hit the pillow the next time. I think those might have been my early writing exercises since I stopped continuing dreams when I started writing.

More significant than visual acuity is the remarkable clarity of emotions that accompany my sleeping visions. At times, those emotions linger after I wake and change my life. The same way the emotional impact of giving birth or losing someone I love alters my being, emotions generated while sleeping remain with me. For me, the origin of those emotions matters more than trying to assign meaning in the physical symbols of my dreams.

Dreams - sleeping, waking, good, bad, literal, and figurative - are an important part of my life. People shake their heads and call me a dreamer, using the same insulting tone others use to call me a liberal. I pity them for not having dreams.

Bet You Can't Beat This

Published to Gather, December 15, 2006 09:29 AM EST (Updated: December 15, 2006 09:58 AM EST)

Our quarrel began the night before I was born and ended the morning she died unless, as I suspect, her spirit lingers to resent the funeral. A rational person would assume that if she knows about the arrangements, she should also know that I voiced her final wishes, defended her outlandish choice, and disputed their veto, but lucidity seldom entered our relationship. If experience and idioms are to be trusted, she is most likely flailing in her grave, blaming me.

Just in case, I will spend today resenting her back. (Lest you think I am disrespectful, I assure you she would appreciate this.) Today is not my birthday. However, it is the day she would deliver a birthday card laced with the only lottery ticket I would touch this year since I am not a gambler.

They all wanted me to enter this life on my grandmother's birthday. I teased them by sending my mother into labor and drawing everyone to the hospital on the correct day. But I waited until after midnight to make my appearance, setting the stage for a lifetime of drama. Mom and Grammy forgave me, I assume immediately since I recall no early problems with them. Struggles with Aunt Jackie, on the other hand, haunt some of my youngest memories and stuck around the balance of the years we shared.

My penchant for never sleeping started with the long nights of vice-grip determination to keep her from taking my pillow. Sharing my room and my bed were enough - the pillow was not included in the deal. I tired of calling heads or tails, picking a hand, guessing a number, drawing a card, or rolling a die, and learned to feign sleep. Eyes tight, knuckles white, I listened for her to come in and then forced the weight of my entire body into my head. By morning, she ended up with two pillows, and I was left with my head resting flat on the mattress.

Insomnia, lottery tickets, and birthday celebrations on the wrong date were not the only or the most significant gifts I received from this aunt, though. True to her eccentric nature, she delivered excessive gifts, twisted in resentment, and adorned in life lessons. It took half a lifetime to understand that she was not purposely torturing me with the marathon dinners in lavish restaurants when I would rather have been at home, eating pizza with my friends, and that giving me extravagant clothes and jewelry that I thought were gorgeous but not me allowed her to play the mother sometimes.

For years, I believed the lifetime of resentment she harbored toward me stemmed from my having placed an inexcusable burden on her calendar. Either waiting for my slow birth had kept her from the most exciting date ever, or the thought of family celebrations on two consecutive days was more than she could handle. My calendar theory faded after years of watching her enjoy poker games, horse races, and bingos, and I decided she must have wagered a small fortune on my delivery date. 

(Aunt Jackie playing bookie at a Derby Party)

Whatever the reason, I had no power to amend my transgression so I the playing field by endorsing her unique characteristics. Eventually, I earned her respect by beating her at her own games. For example, when she decided it was okay to lift a Christmas tree ornament as long as three like it remained, I bought the biggest tree I could find, decorated it in threes, and bet her a dollar she would not find a liftable ornament. She could not resist, or hide how proud she was of me for beating her.

When she announced her final request, I supported her. A game of showdown poker-winner takes all--on her casket seemed much more appropriate than a traditional will for this aunt. Unfortunately, husbands, sisters, attorneys, and funeral directors aren't always as open-minded as I am.

So, in case she is around, resenting me for not insisting on that poker hand, I will assume she is also wishing me a Happy Birthday and resent her having the wrong day. I might play a game of showdown poker and honestly lose everything she owned. For sure, even if she isn't lingering, I will miss her and appreciate the many gifts she has given me.

1968

Published on Gather, January 27, 2008 04:57 PM EST (Updated: January 28, 2008 01:52 PM EST)

Like Duckie, I also had a recent visit from a Ghost.

December 31, 1968.

• Bell-bottomed, black, bolero pants with wide suspender straps over an uncharacteristic,
  
  
  white, ruffled blouse my parents had given me for Christmas, worn only to protect their feelings.
• Black pumps with gold buckles, a poor choice for walking on ice.
• A tight girdle (laughable in retrospect, since I was 110 pounds with a flat stomach, no butt, and toothpick legs), because I needed something to hold my stockings up without having garters show through my pants.
• My favorite peach and brown bikini panties, even though I couldn't wear the matching bra under a white blouse and I didn't plan on letting anyone else see them, included only because they felt stylish
• Blue eye shadow, light pink--almost white--lipstick and copper rouge applied under my cheekbones. Black eyeliner curled up at the outside corners, with a thin line of liquid white above the pupils to create the Sophia Loren look.
• Gold wire earrings with snowflake charms, a gold barrette securing the top layers of side hair to the back of my head.
• Hard contact lenses that still felt like huge chunks of broken glass in my eyes.
• A pea coat, and Daddy's rabbit-lined leather gloves.
• And a smile that would last forty-five days.

Until then, my father had photographed every event in my life and laminated some of his favorites. But the camera didn't come out for my first, first date with the guy with whom I would later share many firsts, many of which I would not have wanted anyone to photograph. For some reason that I won't try to guess, Daddy did not preserve this night on film; the only picture is the one that my memory pulled out on December 31, 2007, when it all came back to me - the clothes, the music, and the emotions.

What caused that night to revisit thirty-nine years later? Forty makes sense as a milestone year. It might seem appropriate if I had been at a house party in the same neighborhood, worn similar clothes, spent the evening with his friends or family, mentioned his name, heard Diana Ross' "Love Child", seen a picture of him, or even thought his name. None of those qualifiers carried me into the time warp.

One minute I was sitting on the couch in my 2007 sweats, listening to a movie on television while I worked on a craft project. In an instant, I landed in the same calendar square thirty-nine years earlier.

Now, nearly a month later, I still feel something akin to the life-altering hangover of a dream that was too real. If he were still alive, I would expect him to call. As it is, I've started 2008 feeling young, and with a wild streak that has nowhere to go.

(I alternately blame and thank Time Heals and Lyndon for drudging up this bad boy, and Duckie for opening the door to let him back in.)