Humboldt Plane Crash

I can't make this stuff up, people.  I'm not trying to make light of the fact that two people died and two are missing.  Quiet Rage just can't pass up the opportunity for irony and sarcasm.  So yes, I AM making fun of the situation (God, please forgive me).

Anybody who knows ANYTHING about northern California knows that Humboldt County is the heart and soul of the Emerald Triangle (California's famous pot growing region).  The following story is a screen shot of a Facebook news post off my iPhone.  Smoke was detected in the cockpit?  What 'kind' of smoke????

Again, I can't make this stuff up. 

Daesh-bags are at it (again)

Just like I will not call a certain presidential candidate by name as it only perpetuates his megalomaniac personality disorder, I refuse to refer to a certain Muslim religious state - it only gives them credibility of an established order. They are still Daesh-bags and always will be.

In case anybody is interested, I've been spending time in Europe (particularly France) and I have my own observations to share with the public.  Go ahead and tune me out.  I know you're going to, anyway.

Has anybody noted that the Daesh terrorists are mostly born in Europe?  Of course, there has been an exception but just go back through the news archives.  The vast majority were born in the country they want to blow up.  Now ask WHY?

Quiet Rage was in Paris on Bastille Day.  My work group took a train from Amsterdam to Paris the morning of.  My work group is of mixed ages and ethnic genetics, but we are ALL American.  We were not holding up signs (sauf one loud-mouth in the group in his f***** SF Giants hat) giving any indication where we were from or that we were traveling as a group.  We blend in with the masses.

The train arrives in Paris.  Yes, I understand the entire country is on edge.  Yes, I understand it's a national holiday and security is tight.  It's supposed to be.  Everybody is doing their job.  We get off the train and start walking.  I'm standing and talking to two young men in my work group and also their mother of Puerto Rican-Jewish-Mexican-German (wow! what a combo) descent  when out of nowhere three French street police pounce on the two young men (who just happen to have coloring of people of middle eastern descent, but they are really Puerto Rican-Jewish-Mexican-German AMERICAN) pounce on them taking them to the ground to search their rucksacks.  WTF???  Other young men in my group were also wearing rucksacks, but they were left alone.  They also happened to be very white-European looking.  Embarrassment ensued on the part of the three French street police after they figured out he was one of "us."

Given the events that were to later unfold that very same day 480 miles away from where we were in Paris in the Mediterranean town of Nice, tell me, were the French police right in distinctly targeting the two young men in my group who may "look" like they could be of middle eastern descent?  Were the French police wrong in such blatant racial profiling?

Things that make you go hmmmmmmmmmmmmm

Quiet Rage's Observation:  The French are hella racist snobs.  They think they are better than everybody else and have an entitlement attitude about EVERYTHING.  They treat their sub-cultures and outsiders with disdain.  Their "club" is not accepting any more members.  It's a closed society.  Any efforts of the French looking anything else but is just window dressing for the world.  So, what do those who were born in France of immigrant parents do?  Of course they are looking to belong somewhere.  The feeling of belonging is an essential human emotional need.  The French don't want them.  They know that.  They can't go "home" to their ancestral lands.  They also know that.  Beckon the siren call of Daesh (ISIS to those who insist on giving them political credibility).  Suddenly they have a life purpose and a means to get back at those they feel have shunned them.  Daesh has given them validation and empowerment -- two virtues every human being on earth crave and seek.  Daesh is exploiting this opportunity to the fullest in addition to trying to get their soldiers into Europe to do harm.  Hey Europe, you're in a bind.  What 'cha gonna do now?  Daesh is also exploiting this opportunity.

I'm not naive enough to think that all the world's problems can be cured with warm cookies, hugs and milk.  I have not even touched on the vastness of mental disorders that also play into the mix.  I have not touched on the fact that many people are, well, just power-hungry assholes no matter what is done. 

I don't have any answers.  I don't pretend to.  Even Jesus Christ Himself could not save humanity.  Why would I even entertain the thought that I could?  Oh, that's reserved for our presidential candidates promising quick fixes for everything.   I'm just noting a pattern, that's all. 

Accosted For Minding My Own Business

Just when I think I have experienced and seen it all, the universe throws some strange new encounter my way.  I was accosted for (get THIS) minding my own business!  Surreal. 

I am still in Europe with my work group.  There are some in my work group that grate on my nerves like nails on a chalk board.  I'm a sensitive person by nature and by the end of the day I've had enough of other people's energy and tend to withdraw.  I prefer a quiet dinner table off in the corner as I have already mentioned that small talk with work acquaintances exhausts me.  I prefer to read rather than chat.  I know that about myself.  I don't want to be a dinner bore so I don't want to subject myself to anybody. 

Last night when I got up to use the ladies room I was actually followed by a guy in my group.  He landed his hand on my shoulder and grunted at me, "Do you have a problem with me?  Why are you avoiding me?  You sit off to yourself and don't talk."

What????  I beg your pardon?  I did not know that minding my own business was a crime -- especially since the guy who accosted me is the big, bumbling, loud idiot in our group. 

What I really wanted to say was, "Mamma always told me that if you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all."  That's the truth of it.  I've got NOTHING to say to outrageously obnoxious people who have NO clue or social self-awareness.  I've tried point-blank telling him that I'm not his dog and to not treat me as one.  How much more blunt can I be? 

After that bizarre exchange I told him I was feeling ill.  That's the only thing that dufus can understand.  I'm ill being around his toxic energy.  No joke. 

The Big, Bumbling, Loud Idiot

I've been trapped (oh, excuse me) or should I say travelling with work people.  Some of them are fun to be around.  Others I'm resisting the temptation to push off a cliff and into the Seine River.  Just *where* is that murdering terrorist when needed?  Sigh.

One in particular is about as obnoxious as they come.  Our group was instructed not to wear anything with writing to indicate we were American.  What does he do?  He dons a San Francisco Giants baseball cap.  His thunderous John Wayne-like voice can be heard from miles around bellowing completely inappropriate comments to everybody.  So much for blending in with the crowd.  Thanks a lot, asshole.

This man thinks that the entire world is there to serve him.  He is as demanding as he is obnoxious.  Yesterday while we were out he was across the road a bit.  He actually whistled and yelled attempting to call me over.  I have had it at this point.  I turned around, hands on my hips, and flatly told him that I am not his dog and to not treat me as one.  Quiet Rage kept walking.

Another one in the group likes to ask nosy questions.  Inquiring about one's age is always a no-no.  She thinks nothing of it.  She also likes to lob unsolicited comments about my clothing, hair and what I'm eating for breakfast.  It does not stop there.  She asked how somebody like me got the job that I have.  The undertone was that of who's dick did I suck, or to whom am I related in the industry. 

Dinners are painful.  We are mixed in with complete strangers and also those of the work group.  I don't say much as I find small talk extremely exhausting.  Finds out that I don't need to say much as the table conversation is usually a brag fest of who has vacation homes where and how much money and toys they have.  Gag.

On the positive side:  I'm avoiding those who want to make me barf in favor of those who are fun.  We have a dirty old man in my group.  He made an inappropriate remark to a young lady and her father did NOT appreciate it.  I don't blame him.  When the incident was being recounted by Dirty Old Man another guy in my group told him, "Hey, I don't blame the dad for being pissed at you.  If you pulled that shit on my daughter, I would cut your f****** dick off and stuffed it down your throat before I drowned you in the f****** river."

Quiet Rage hangs out with people who say it like it is.  Truth.

Speeches of Presidential Wives

Quiet Rage is in Europe.  News of the copy-cat speeches of Michelle Obama and Bimbo-melanoma have made it across the Atlantic despite terrorists blowing shit up on their national holiday. 

Everybody is blaming speech writers for the situation.  Dig deeper, people, as there is a much more troubling angle to this.  If somebody has to write your speech FOR you that indicates to me the words spoken are not genuine to your soul.  Fake. 

It just solidifies my belief even more that politicians, et al, are nothing more than programmed robots.  Wait!!  I have an idea.  I'm going to write in C3PO (the robot from Star Wars) on my election ballot.  I think we all should just cut to the chase and elect a robot that speaks.  Siri (the iPhone femmebot) should be his running mate.

Derriere

Here's a testimony to ladies with derrieres.  Looking around at art masterpieces, I can't help butt (no pun intended) notice that skinny bitches don't inspire art -- womanly curves do.  Show me an art masterpiece that features flat, little butts.  Hips and curves is where it's at.  Literally. 

Below I have just a couple of examples from different sculptures in different European countries.  Ladies, be PROUD of your boom-boom.  You've got all the right junk in all the right places.  Art is on your side -- your backside;)

Bastille Day

..I told you all that shit was going to go down in France on Bastille Day.  Read my post from April 6 and 29, and then July 2015.  I can't make this shit up, people.  I'm so sorry for the victims and their families.  Security was tight in Paris.  So sorry that the same level of security could not reach across the country to Nice. 

Political Turmoil

Let's all take a lesson from Brexit, shall we?  Before you all head to the polls this November thinking that a loud-mouthed-meglomaniac-narcissist (I refuse to call him by name) can "make America great again" by lobbing cheap-shot insults, you all have another thing coming.  Look at England.  They took the bait and now those who led the Brexit charge by employing similar tactics now realize how complicated and intertwined everything is and their simplified single sentence bumper-sticker slogans will not see them through the turmoil they started.  The captains are jumping ship leaving the English  on board to drown. 

Is the USA perfect?  Of course not.  Nothing is perfect.  It never has been nor will it ever be.  We are sick of financially supporting other countries and their people as well when we have plenty at home who need help.  I understand the emotions that drove the vote for Brexit.  We are human.  We get angry and fed up. 

You say you want a revolution?  Great.  We had one ourselves back in 1776.  I'll leave you with a parting thought.  The revolution is the easy part.  It's what comes after that will be the challenge.  You're fed up with your government.  Great.  But replace it with WHAT?  You better have a clear picture of what comes next and how it will operate. 

Not so easy, is it????? 

Pot Growing Opportunity

At the moment I'm typing this on the fly as I'm scurrying about getting ready for my trip.  I did have to pause for a moment and laugh at this solicitation that I received in the mail.  Believe it or not, we are getting bombarded with solicitations to lease one of our buildings -- for POT cultivation.  I can't make this stuff up, people.

Europe: Ready or not, here I come

It's here.  I'm starting to pack. Europe seemed like it was always a far-out future event.  I still have nightmares where I'm at the airport and find that I have left my passport at home...and the plane leaves without me or I'm running after it.

I'm looking forward to seeing CG from England.  I'm certain she is SICK of everybody asking her about Brexit.  I do have but a few questions for her:
1.  Who is Dick Pound?
2.  Is he a wanker?
3.  What is the difference between a wanker and a bloke?
4.  May I order a "big beer" and not be cause for embarrassment?
Just kidding, CG, I won't ask any of these things in public;)
On a more serious note, I'm looking forward to my food not being covered in CILANTRO as everything is in California (everybody assumes that everybody loves it - it tastes like SOAP to me).  But...the trade-off is that I have to deal with white pepper instead of black pepper.

Other side event:  I get to go to Delft to visit my great-great-great (breathless count) grandfather's grave - William the Silent - aka William of Orange.  Yes, I'm a bastard offspring of his but it will be meaningful to me to see the origin of my messed up family dynamics.  LOL.