OPB wants to hear from you, Oregon parents.

WM

Hi,

My name is Scott Silver and I work for Oregon Public Broadcasting. I’m trying to get ahold of Wacky Mommy. (Ed. to say: Isn’t everyone? WM)

Right now, OPB is doing research into how parents choose which school to send their children to. We’re passing around an email, directing parents (and teachers) to our online question form. (more…)

That’s right. The first NAWACOTID went well, and today? Today I’m back to telling off assclowns. But only if they’re telling me, die, yuppie bitch scum.

People have no imagination nowadays. As of right now, 1:28 p.m., I am back to not arguing. Thank you for your support in my effort to better myself.

Anyway, back to NAWACOTID.

Jack Bog’s in.

MetBlogs are in. (Well, two of ’em, anyway. BETSY and that MetBlogger I sleep with.)

Vixen’s in.

Zip. My Zip is IN.

Qanzas is in, in, in.

Qtpies7? In.

J. Lynne? Has been in for a year and a half! Woot! I had no idea. I think she should get some credit for this idea.

Grand Poobah? IN.

Melissa Lion is in.

Kevin Allman? Yes.

TERRY OLSON IN THE HOUSE.

It is a DIVERSE crowd so far. You in? See you next Wednesday.

Why I Declared Wednesdays No Arguing With Assclowns on the Internet Day! Woot!

Thursday 13ers and Usual Suspects,

Do you hate to be wrong? I don’t mind it so much when I am, cuz what’s the point? Sometimes I’m wrong, sometimes I’m right. I’d like to think I usually am not an idiot, that I’m learning from my mistakes, but who knows? I could be wrong. I’ve been wrong before! Sometimes I change my mind. Lose interest. Give up and go out for sushi, where the conversation is usually much more interesting than the one I’ve been engaging in on the Internet. That’s right. I “talk” with people on the Internet. (And in person — I do leave the house, have a life, run around, you know. Things that don’t involve the computer.)

Lately? Lately my husband and I have been doing a lot of political work. By “a lot” I mean, “a lot even for us.” Political work is enough to make your head implode. So along come the trolls:

“What do you know about it? You’re selfish and making things up! My preshus children go 2 a chartr skool and they luv it and are rilly rilly smart! Yer children would be smart, 2, if you wern’t such a selfish beoyotch!” Etc.

Then I feel compelled to say things like, hell no I don’t want my kids at your hippie-dippie little feel-good charter school, they’re fine at their neighborhood school. Yes, they unchain them from their desks sometimes. And it’s open to everyone, their school. It’s not hoity. No, actually, charter schools are exclusive and hoity. That’s why there aren’t any black kids/Mexican kids/poor kids, etc. at your school, see? (This is true of Portland charters, anyway. So please excuse me if your charter has the All-Asian Boys’ Juggling Troupe, and if it wasn’t for your special school, they never would have learned how to juggle! “None of the other skools they went 2 ever let them juggle, Witchie-Poo! You’re mean! What do you have against juggling?”)

But there I go again, see? Arguing. I give up, Internets. I will no longer argue! On Wednesdays! If you have occasionally had an “arguing” problem with “The Internets” and want to participate in this fine venture of mine, please send me an e-mail or leave a comment; I would be happy to give you a cheerful SHOUT-OUT!

My 13 reasons:

1) Why bother? No one wins.

2) Everyone thinks they’re a big expert, especially me, the Witchie-Poo of all-time. I will be an expert without typing out, “I am expert, not you,” and then will have a merry little laugh.

3) Head. Implodes. With too much conflict. Less conflict, more playtime.

4) What works for me might not work for someone else. Who cares?

5) I’m all, you know, zen. Cuz I went for acupuncture today.

6) I think, would my acupuncturist waste his time arguing? No, he would not. He’d throw some needles in them and tell them to quiet down their spleens. And then he’d say, Your chi is all out of whack. Let’s rechannel it. Then he’d light some moxa on their bellies, in their belly buttons, and say, Let’s draw some of that out. Then he’d do that, you know, five or six times, ’til they were goofy-relaxed, and ask, Better? They’d be all, What was I saying?

7) Why argue when you can make love? Go for sushi? Walk in the rain? Watch the Zamboni go ’round and ’round?

“There are three things in life that people like to stare at: a flowing stream, a crackling fire and a Zamboni clearing the ice.”
— Charlie Brown

8) I thought, if I can give up arguing on Wednesdays, eventually I’ll be able to branch out to Thursdays. Possibly Tuesdays. Perhaps (dare I hope for this?) seven days a week? Yes.

“Victory is mine/ Victory is mine/ Victory today is mine/ I told Satan/ Get thee behind/ Victory today is mine… (etc.) Love is mine… Joy is mine… Peace is mine…”

Om.

9) Sometimes when people really, really argue with you? And won’t give up? And are determined to make you change your mind? At any cost they just have to or it will kill them… It’s because they’re wrong. They know they’re wrong, and they’ve been wrong for a long time.

10) Nyah. (You can think nyah, but please do not say it out loud.) (The children are listening.)

11) If you argue, even if you’re right, it makes you look defensive. Don’t be defensive — be who you are and stand up for yourself and others, but don’t get defensive. You need to defend yourself if you absolutely have to, though. Like if someone tries to steal your chocolate bar.

12) The Internet gives bullies a safe place to hide and then (virtually) jump out at people. I’m not hiding — I’m right here, every day. Bullies, be gone. Go get your own blogs.

13) Love. Love and compassion and all that. It works.

Don’t be argumentative, friend. Don’t let the Internet assclowns get you down. Life is good.

Love,

WM

“Are you upset little friend? Have you been lying awake worrying? Well, don’t worry…I’m here. The flood waters will recede, the famine will end, the sun will shine tomorrow, and I will always be here to take care of you.”
— Charlie Brown to Snoopy”

I’m creating a new blogging holiday. A weekly meme of sorts. I think I’ll make it happen… every Wednesday. It can be a new kind of blogging experience for all of us, and you can incorporate it right into Wordless Wednesday, recipe club, whatever other memes or habits you’ve acquired. I’m calling it… (ready?)… (steady?)… (GO!):

No Arguing with Assclowns on the Internet Day!!!!

You like it? Yeah, it’s a little bulky, I know.

I tried to get it going yesterday, but it didn’t go so well.

I would like to suggest the following ideas:

1) If someone tells you you should be ashamed of yourself, that you’ve brought all these troubles, this “bad cess,” on your own pretty little head, then you say:

You’re right! Why didn’t I see this all along?

2) If someone accuses you of whoring out your children for the Big Blogger Bucks, you say:

You’re right! Why didn’t I see this all along?

3) If someone calls you “self-absorbed,” “petty bitch,” “stupid, dirty hippie,” “liberal socialist whore,” yadda-yadda-blip, you say:

You’re right! Why didn’t I see this all along?

You in?

WM

“I sent a message to the fish:
I told them ‘This is what I wish.’

The little fishes of the sea,
They sent an answer back to me.

The little fishes’ answer was
‘We cannot do it, Sir, because –‘

‘I’m afraid I don’t quite understand,’ said Alice.
‘It gets easier further on,’ Humpty Dumpty replied.

‘I sent to them again to say
‘It will be better to obey.’

The fishes answered, with a grin,
‘Why, what a temper you are in!’

I told them once, I told them twice:
They would not listen to advice.

I took a kettle large and new,
Fit for the deed I had to do.

My heart went hop, my heart went thump:
I filled the kettle at the pump.

Then some one came to me and said
‘The little fishes are in bed.’

I said to him, I said it plain,
‘Then you must wake them up again.’

I said it very loud and clear:
I went and shouted in his ear.’

Humpty Dumpty raised his voice almost to a scream as he repeated this verse, and Alice thought with a shudder, `I wouldn’t have been the messenger for anything!’

‘But he was very stiff and proud:
He said, ‘You needn’t shout so loud!’

And he was very proud and stiff:
He said ‘I’d go and wake them, if — ‘

I took a corkscrew from the shelf:
I went to wake them up myself.

And when I found the door was locked,
I pulled and pushed and kicked and knocked .

And when I found the door was shut,
I tried to turn the handle, but –‘

There was a long pause.

`Is that all?’ Alice timidly asked.

`That’s all,’ said Humpty Dumpty. `Good-bye.'”

— “Through the Looking Glass,” by Lewis Carroll

“Tomatoes and oregano make it Italian; wine and tarragon make it French. Sour cream makes it Russian; lemon and cinnamon make it Greek. Soy sauce makes it Chinese; garlic makes it good.”

–Alice May Brock, author (1941-)

“When I despair, I remember that all through history the ways of truth and love have always won. There have been tyrants, and murderers, and for a time they can seem invincible, but in the end they always fall. Think of it, always.”

— Mahatma Gandhi

Happy now?

You know, it would help if the Oregon Live site, you know. Worked. If it was easier to navigate, if the keywords for searches actually took you to the articles you were seeking. If the links didn’t go dead after two weeks. Anyway.

Now comes Anna Griffin, with an article titled “The Inner State of Interstate.” Do tell, Ms. Griffin — how would you describe my neighborhood after spending two hours here?

“Undeniably ugly,” she says (that’s her lead.)

“From the driver’s seat, Interstate Avenue looks like just another long stretch of urban landscape — busy, cluttered and, at times, undeniably ugly.”

That’s sweet, honey. Glad you could stop by.

Next? She compares it to a petri dish. Awesome! The phrase she was looking for was “melting pot.” (Editor: “But we need something more… more… original than melting pot…” Reporter, eager to please: “Petri dish?” Editor: “Good!”)

“On foot, however, Interstate is much more — a vast social petri dish where Caucasians, African Americans, first-generation immigrants from Fiji and third-generation Polish Americans do business side by side; where senior citizens, young families and newly arrived hipsters mingle over coffee and antique furniture.”

No Mexicans, though. (Yes, there are Hispanic-owned businesses in my neighborhood — she even interviews the owners of Jesusito grocery, where “neighborhood folks” shop, according to Griffin. See? We all get along.)

“With all this uncertainty, it’s no wonder the people of North Interstate Avenue are feeling a lot of things these days — and happy is not among them.”

Kent Brockman: “‘Twas the night before Christmas, and in this house a creature *was* stirring. But the only thing he was stirring was: up trouble.” — The Simpsons, “Homer the Vigilante”

The street history? It’s called Interstate Avenue because the street leads to the Interstate Bridge, connecting Oregon to Washington. Although this has been corrected in the online version of the article, there was nothing in the print edition about the street’s original name, North Patton Avenue (after landowner Matthew Patton). (Old-timers still call it Pacific Highway, or 99W.)

Hockey God is blogging over at MetBlogs now, in case you were wondering what he has going on. Stop by and tell him hey.

How will this affect his hockey game, is my question.