A Day in the Life: Fa La La La La – La La La – La!

christmas_presents_avalancheYou want to be the most giving parent possible.

You refuse to be a parental Scrooge at Christmastime.

How do parents limit the giving of gifts to their children on the very day of the year dedicated to showering gifts upon kids?

Parents who do so, well, let’s just say you’ll pray for their kids at Christmas mass.

Your kid, on the other hand, is blessed with you as a parent.

In spite of misguided parents creating the next generation of self-flagellating adults who have minimal regard for their own self-worth, you are determined that your child know her worth. And isn’t it your job to fulfill your child’s wishes to the full extent of your ability?

Of course it is.

Whether by good behavior, or bad – she will learn that a parent’s love is always to be expected. You will teach her that rewards are hers just for being the light of your life. It is your duty as a loving, responsible parent to raise a healthy, happy child in a society peopled with self-loathing miscreants.

Anyone who thinks differently can stick their miserly belief system up…well, they can just keep their Scrooge-oriented beliefs to themselves. You will provide Christmas for your child as you see fit. Continue reading

A Day in the Life: Happy Thanksgiving / Celebrating Genocide

first-thanksgivingAh, Thanksgiving.

Crunchy leaves and colors, slight chill in the air.

First Thanksgiving decorations of happy pilgrims and Indians sharing mounds of food and friendship…creating a wonderful history for a great nation.

Heartfelt prayers of gratitude over turkey with stuffing, cranberry sauce, butter beans, warm apple cider and sweet potato pie…stomach kept empty and ready for it all.

thanksgiving-family-at-dinner-table

Spirituality, family fun (and fights), making new memories for the photo album before all stumble from kitchen to living room to pass out like beached whales…bellies just as round.

Contented fatigue, pleasant conversation, crackling fire in the hearth…warm…cozy.

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Happy Thanksgiving!

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 native-american-indian-woman

Not again.

Thanksgiving.

A chill in the air…just a touch of the terror your ancestors felt as they were poisoned and butchered by God-fearing Pilgrims.

Leaves the color of blood crunching beneath your feet like the bones of your ancestors strewn across the lands of this great nation.

A nation that once belonged to your forefathers, before it was wrenched away and re-fertilized with their blood and bones. A nation that now glorifies this massacre, and those who led it, rewriting genocide into a warm-fuzzy family fable.

A fable you must suffer through, year after year.

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A Day In The Life: Wealthy/Middle-Class

luxurious-bedYou awaken inside golden sunlight splashing across your bed.

An enormous, four-poster, intricately carved mahogany bed draped with gossamer silk.

You stretch languidly beneath your thousand dollar Pratesi sheets, which feel like satin against your skin.

Rolling your head to the side on fat, goose down pillows, you look out into your yard through French terrace doors.

A beautiful, sunny day awaits.

You inhale deeply the scent of blossoming roses, magnolias and fresh fruit wafting up from the trees in your garden, and imagine their succulence. You’ll have Deni, your head gardener, clip some choice blooms and collect a basket of petals for Pita, your live-in housekeeper, to arrange into lovely bouquets and potpourri for the grand foyer, sitting, formal and powder rooms of your mansion.

flower-gardens-with-waterfall

Your whole estate should smell so sweet!

You yawn widely, and contemplate snuggling back into your soft, feather bed for another hour or so. Running your fingers through your hair, you decide against it.

Your expertly weaved tresses are styling-moose stiff from last night’s charity gala, and your nails are just a touch too formal for the late luncheon and shopping outing you have scheduled with the ladies this afternoon.

Pita!” You summon your housekeeper, who should already be at your side by now with freshly ground coffee, a mango mimosa, a warm croissant and freshly sliced fruit from your trees. Why must you have to call out to her? Where is she?

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