Easy-Bake Oven

A recent discussion on kids and gender identity reminded me of an incident from my childhood.

When I was a little kid, I wanted an Easy-Bake Oven. Now, my parents were generally pretty tolerant of whatever weirdness I threw at them, but apparently this is where they drew the line. I can picture my dad saying “No son of mine is going to play with an Easy-Bake Oven.”

But…. I don’t think they “got” why I wanted it. It’s not that I wanted to play housewife, pretending I was cooking and baking in the kitchen all day. (Not that there would be anything wrong with it if I did, but that wasn’t it.) Here’s the thing: These things made REAL cakes.

Now, mom might bake a cake once in a blue moon, and I understood they were a lot of trouble to make, but they were delicious. But now, thanks to modern toy science, here was this machine, made just for kids, that could bake a little tiny cake. I could make it myself. All by myself. At any time. Think about it… I could have cake ANY TIME I WANTED. I love cake. This. Changed. Everything.

Seriously, this was a game-changer. No more waiting, no more begging mom, I could have cake whenever I wanted, thanks to this little miracle of a machine. I didn’t know exactly how it worked, but if kids could do it, how hard could it be? I was excited, downright giddy over the possibilities.

But alas, it was never to be. I never got my Easy-Bake Oven. And all because they just didn’t understand. I didn’t want to play at being a mom. I just wanted cake.

An IT Story

True story… My very first job in IT. My very first day at work. I met my team leader, a lovely woman named Mavis, my manager, whom I don’t remember, and everyone in the office, including our lead technical guy, a “Senior Engineer” named John Popp. I mention his name only because I will never forget it, because of this story.

He was an older guy (well to me then anyway), and was presented as THE go-to guy for all things technical. I don’t remember if they used the word “guru”, but you get the idea. We talked for a while in his office, but then it was time for me to actually log in to the system and start doing some real work. But, being my first day, they didn’t have an account set up for me yet. John Popp kindly volunteered to let me use his account until mine was ready. Fantastic, I was all set. Username? “johnpopp”. Great. Password? “johnpopp”. … …. ….. I was stunned for a moment. The only thought that came to mind was “Really?” but I at least had the sense not to say that out loud.

And THAT was my very first experience with the realities of the IT world. (For what it’s worth, not much has changed since then.)


Random thought for today: Occasionally I hear people, my age or older, talk about how great the drugs were back in the 60’s or 70’s. Consider this, if you will: The most popular poster in the 60’s was Marilyn Monroe. From the 70’s, the iconic Farrah Fawcett. Now, you know what the best selling posters were from the 1980’s? ALF and Spuds MacKenzie. Think that through for a moment. ALF. And Spuds MacKenzie. Now which decade do you think had the best drugs?

Happy Easter

A little over 2,000 years ago the Romans executed a religious leader for political crimes. His followers believed he rose from the dead three days later. This event became the defining moment of the new religion, and over the years many others would come to believe. Within a few hundred years it would become the official religion of the Roman Empire. Within a thousand years it would become the most widely practiced religion on the planet, and it continues to be to this day.

Today we commemorate this single momentous event by having our small children search for brightly colored eggs hidden in the grass by a magical bunny. Everyone accepts this as normal, despite the fact that no one can establish a plausible connection between the executed religious leader and either brightly colored eggs or magical bunnies.

Still, the resulting holiday gives us an opportunity to dress up, gather with family, reconnect with our beliefs, and eat lots of candy and chocolate in the shape of eggs and magical bunnies (but strangely none in the shape of an executed religious leader), so on the whole it makes for a nice day.

Happy Easter Everybody!

Bold Longing, part 2

More mystery email. I really would like pounds of cash wads for all my picnics…

Everybody without exceptions wants to be prosperous even if he or she laughs at the fact.

With all that persons cannot stand to be responsible for their own well being and work every single day.

By all means, we do not grant you pounds of cash wads but with our simple and understandable approach you can say “goodbye” to strict limits that you have now.

Find some time and teach yourself to receive quick money plainly within hours.

You will always receive enough for emergency presents, parties, picnics and pleasure trips and your life will become brighter.

Follow here for more details
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Bold Longings

So I got this in an email. It’s like they’re speaking directly to me – I have bold longings, I want a delightful mass of green bucks…

It is problematic to fit into your usual budget without saying “no” to your vivid dreams and bold longings that demand unplanned expenditures.

At least you are doubtless it is problematic and lucky guys who know little secrets wish you to go on thinking this way.

Of course, you are right to believe that there are effortless and rapid ways of earning delightful mass of green bucks that can be used for fun, recreation and delight.

You can learn how to become wealthier and happier.

Forget about your usual doubts use the given link and learn all you have to know:
<link removed>

The Southern Class System

Recent comments on the seeming inequity of how the “Stand Your Ground” law is applied in Florida have been popping up all over the Internet. Some seem confused or surprised by the results, but to me it seemed a perfectly logical, albeit inherently unfair, and frequently sad, outcome.

What people are failing to recognize is this: Even though we like to think of ourselves as a “classless” society, and that we are all equal under the law, the southern class system, as old as the South itself, still plays a large role in everyday life in much of Florida. This is no more true anywhere than in the way criminal law is applied in our courts.

I suppose I’ve spent so much time living here that I just sort of assumed everyone knew how things really worked, but if you don’t understand the southern class system, I imagine much of what happens in the Florida courts will be a complete mystery to you.

Please understand – I do NOT advocate this class system, I would like very much for it to become a thing of the past. I am documenting it here so that we can all recognize it for what it is – and if we see it, and know it, and become aware of it, we can work to remove it, and maybe one day realize our ideals of true equality under the law.

So, this is meant to educate, not to offend. Apologies in advance to any of you who don’t know me or understand this concept. Anyhow, it goes something like this.


The Southern Class System

White Males
Hunting Dogs
White Women
English Speaking Foreigners (Brits, Aussies, etc)
Other Proper Foreigners (Germans, Swiss, etc)
Irishmen, Italians, and Poles
Other Farm Animals
Chinamen and Mexicans
Dark-skinned people who aren’t really Black Folk
Black Folk
Ticks, Fleas, and other Parasites
The Devil Himself
Carpet-Baggers (a specific type of Northerner)

1. You may notice Gays are not included, they would be classified under “Frenchmen”.
2. Jews do not require a separate classification, most of them are already “Northerners” anyway.
3. After 1945 change “Carpet-Baggers” to “Commie Pinkos”.

Is Paula Deen a Racist?

Paula Deen says she’s not a racist. I think Paula Deen truly believes she is not a racist. I think there are many people out there, who may not realize they are a racist. I think perhaps we should give Paula Deen and others a few tips, on how to tell whether or not they might be a racist. (With apologies to Jeff Foxworthy)

– If you think having an all black wait-staff, at a plantation style wedding, is a good idea… you might be a racist.

– If you don’t know if the N-word is offensive to black people… well, you just might be a racist.

– If you don’t know WHY the N-word is offensive…. you might be a racist.

– If you think “Most jokes are about Jewish people, rednecks, black folks”… I got news for ya…. not only might you be a racist. But also… Lady you know fuck all about what’s funny.

Mister Rogers, Captain Kangaroo, and Romper Room

I just read that Mister Rogers passed away 10 years ago today, and this made me stop a moment and reflect. Mister Rogers and Captain Kangaroo were the first two adults, outside of my immediate family, to take the time to talk directly to me. They were always warm and kind, and never mean or cruel. Unlike that Romper Room bitch. She’d look through that magic looking glass thingy, “I see Susie and Jamie and Kevin and Mark…” What about me? I’m right here! Can’t you see me? I would be right in front of the TV, jumping up and down, waving frantically. Why can’t she see me? I watched every day for years. Every damn day, just waiting, waiting for that day she called my name. Bitch never saw me. Never. Finally one day I turned her off, threw away my little plastic-cup-on-a-rope stompy thingies, and never looked back. She was the first woman to ever break my heart, and it was time for me to move on. Still, every now and then, I think of her. And I think, if I ever run into that Romper Room lady, I swear I’m gonna walk right up to her, slap her in the face, and say “Can you see me now bitch?”


In an earlier post, a friend referenced a medical journal article which suggested hiccups could be cured by “digital rectal stimulation”…

I’ll just pause for a moment here and let that one sink in…

Now, for the record, if you ever see me with the hiccups, and *that* is the cure that comes to your mind (and it will be now), do me a favor and just let me keep the hiccups.

Also, rest assured, if I ever come across you with a case of the hiccups, know that while I like you, I do NOT like you THAT well.