LeaV

I've been doing a lot of reading lately, mostly biographical stuff.  Anyway, I learned some things about this particular person whose autobiography I am reading at the moment, and the curiousity bug bit me hard.  I went searching on Google for random things about infamous and famous people and found these little bits about their lives/personalities most interesting.  Can you figure out who these people are?  The answers will be below...

1.  This young man was a romantic-minded boy who developed “a profound admiration, envy and emulation of his father’s masculine power and a contempt for his mother’s feminine submissiveness and weakness.”  Thus, both parents were ambivalent to him: his father was hated and respected; his mother was loved and depreciated.  He was always imagining insults and injuries against himself, had no tolerance for criticism, and an excessive demand for attention and a tendency to belittle, bully or blame others and seek revenge.  However, his personality also showed persistence in the face of defeat, along with strong self-will and self-trust.

2.  He was a child of incest.  His mother and he shared the same father. He was raised by grandparents and thought they were his parents.  The person he thought for most of his life was just his older sister was actually his mother.  His dad was also his grandfather.

3. Despite a less-than-average academic record, he was accepted into Harvard University, from where his father and sister graduated.  He failed the New York bar exam twice before passing on the third try.  

4.  He became the organization’s dominant personality and its primary intellectual influence. He was responsible for much of the organization’s fund-raising, which he frequently conducted in conjunction with preaching engagements in Northern churches.

 5.  If he had not believed that he had permission from God to engage in sex with young girls, he never would have done it, because he could not have handled the guilt.

6.  "Mom was in a cafe one afternoon with me on her lap. The waitress, a would-be mother without a child of her own, jokingly told my Mom she'd buy me from her. Mom replied, 'A pitcher of beer and he's yours.' The waitress set up the beer; Mom stuck around long enough to finish it off and left the place without me. Several days later, my uncle had to search the town for the waitress and take me home."  

7.  College dropout and entrepreneur.

So, able to figure these out?  Here are the answers:  (1) Is a description of Adolph Hitler from the "Analysis of the Personality of Adolph Hitler," by Dr. Henry A. Murray; (2)  From the life of serial killer Ted Bundy; (3) John F. Kennedy, Jr.; (4) Martin Luther King, Jr.; (5) David Koresh infamous leader of the Branch Davidians who were a cult originating from the Davidian Seventh Day Adventists and they former of the Seventh-day Adventist Church.  Eighty-three church members including Koresh died in an FBI/ATF siege of the compound in Waco, Texas, in 1993; (6) Charles Manson recounting early childhood; (7) Bill Gates. 

So, my point?  Never judge a book by its cover.  There are so many things that define who we are that it's difficult to judge a person wholly on the basis of one interaction.  No, that can't be the point; because there are so many exceptions.  If someone holds a gun to my head, I'm judging that they are probably a violent person using violent means to achieve an id-driven end.  Could the point be that there are moments in our lives that color our perception of the world and how we will interact in the future?  No, that can't be it either; or else, every time someone did something to us or something happened to us either good or bad, it would completely rule how we behaved every day of our lives. 

I guess there is no point to this.  Maybe, the point is read more...you'll never know what you'll discover.  I'm reading these two books right now...

This one is somewhat of an arduous read.  Basically, I know the basic concepts, and the book is heavily sprinkled with oodles of love and philosophy...not what I was looking for; and, I thought actually it was a book about Cesar Milan, duh.

I like this one.  I got it for free when I went to see his comedy show up in Minneapolis.  It's a fun read. 

Reading anything good lately?  Any suggestions?

What are we going to do if we can't protect our own children?  This is the third time in just less than one year that I've posted this journal, and I don't get it.  Personally, I don't think the media should cover these stories.  It puts too much attention on the killer and suppositions as to why he did it and where did we go wrong.  Granted, some may argue that it opens a dialogue about "mental illness" and what can we do to prevent these tragedies; but, I'll tell you this right now...it does nothing.  People will do what they want to do no matter how many barriers we put up to prevent them from doing so.  I don't mind the dialogue...I think it's healthy and it's good; I do mind, however, copious amounts of media attention speculating as to intentions.  This killer achieved his ultimate aim...the media attention.  Let's not indulge this (please excuse me here everyone, I apologize) monster f*ck*r.  My original thoughts below regarding VA Tech could, sadly, be applied again.  My heart and my thoughts are with those at NIU...(I had originally posted this on MySpace on April 21, 2007...I hate that I had to bring it back again).

The Virgina Tech Tragedy...(April 21, 2007)

Well, it's been a week since the VA Tech tragedy.  Following this tragedy, there have already been two newsworthy threats in my little neck of the woods alone.  First, at the UofM where my sister attends school (a bomb threat in the building she has her classes in) and a supposed "hit list" and threats at my nephew's high school.  Additionally, the great town I live in had a murder during the daytime-noontime hour that is still, as of yet, unsolved.  This is just in my little neck of the woods. 

Horror is nothing compared to what goes on everyday in the world.  The real world is far more vicious and evil than any horror movie monster that any normal person could conjure up.  There are no plots; there are no characters; there is no clean and neat permanent ending.  There is just the random brutality that happens every day, every where with no rhyme or reason to it. 

So, I spend a lot of time in the world of horror; and despite everything, I spend my time in the real world trying to be a good person, trying to deflect the cruelty I hear and read about everyday by being hopeful regarding the innate goodness of man. 

No matter how much the news media will cover what happened at VA Tech, there will never be a logical explanation that any sane person will understand.  Suffice it to say, this guy was EVIL; and he carried out his evil plan and now is dead and gone.  So, let's stop giving him the media attention he more than likely wanted.  Let's keep believing in the good in the world and the compassion of the human spirit.  Let's offer our prayers and thoughts to those that now have to deal with these tremendous voids in their lives and continue to believe that collectively our compassion and belief in our fellow man will continue to squash the evil that wanders around everyday, in every town, on every block.

Today, I guess, is a bit of a random blog.  My random comes on so randomly and is so random it's certifiable.  I live up in my head a lot, and when the upstairs party becomes a part of reality...people question my intentions (re: sanity).  Today, I thought about animals having feelings.  Why?  Because I love Lolcats, and I was just at that website laughing shamelessly.  But, I don't mean about feelings as to anthropomorphism, I mean does an animal really feel emotions aside from the ones that we can logically and objectively measure; for example, pain. 

You can't ask your dog..."so, how did that make you feel?"  That frustrates me.  You can only apply your emotional interpretation onto the dog as to your summation of the actions that the dog is portraying.  If I say, "wanna go bye-bye in the car," and my dog hops around like a crazy beast, panting her tongue and wagging her tail; I will surmise that this pleases her, and hence, she's happy.  But, if a feeling is a perception...then I can't be 100% certain that my dog feels happy, because I cannot interpret the perception.  Dogs can't talk and, again, that frustrates me.  Science tells me that the dog has associated one of the key words in that particular phraseology with an action that in turn satisfies a basic drive.  Well, that's my extremely simplistic interpretation of what science would tell me.  In essence, science tells me to re-read about operant conditioning to explain the actions.  But, what drive am I satisfying with a simple car ride?  What basic instinct have I effected to make my dog respond in the way that she does?  What was the original stimulus? 

Okay, that's what I thought about when I took my dog with me to the store.  She has to go everywhere with me, and I indulge her.  When I look over at her leaning against the car seat staring at nothing in particular and completely in the moment of just being, I feel content.  And then I thought about how everything doesn't have to be so over analyzed, sometimes.  Sometimes, you just appreciate something just for what it is; and maybe that's the secret to a dog's life...this just is and it pleases me (wag, pant, snort).  Does she have feelings?  I don't know.  She just is and that pleases me.

I’m home, finally.  The temperature right now is -8 degrees Fahrenheit with the wind-chill being -37 degrees Fahrenheit.  To those that use the metric system, that’s -22 degrees.  Yeah, it’s cold. 

It’s been a long week…a lot of this and that and things I’d rather put off, but I can’t.  Life plugs on.  I cannot do random blogs.  They’d be too random, and people would want to put me somewhere safe.  I wanted to do a political blog; but, my thoughts are so disjointed at the present time, that I’m having a hard time focusing on exactly what it is that I want to say.  I will say this…although I am surely not the biggest fan of Sen. Hilary Clinton; I respect her intelligence and fortitude at the present time.  Furthermore, I think that if Hilary were to announce tomorrow that she was divorcing Bill, I would totally support her about 90% (not that I condone divorce or anything.  I just oppose Bill Clinton.  Ick.).  I still have some problems, though, with her talking out of both sides of her mouth and selling her friends down the river to save her own ass…but that’s a whole ‘nuther blog.  I’m confused about Sen. Obama.  I cannot explain exactly why.  He has a very strong magnetic pull on me, but I just cannot get myself to back him all the way.  I still need a lot more time to think.  My sister recently attended his rally here in Minnesota at the University.  I guess, she said, that you could text some sort of message of hope or what not.  I’m not sure.  I can’t remember exactly.  The number to text to was 62262.  Add up the 2’s and keep the other two 6s to end up with three numbers.   I’m not saying anything, because if he does win, I don’t want anything coming back to implicate me in anything.

 In 2004, my decision was pretty easy…A TRUE CONFESSION AHEAD…brace yourselves…

Tah-dah.  Yup.  That’s George W. Bush at a rally in my hometown that my sister attended.  I had to work that day.  Boo.  This is her picture of the president, and she got to shake his hand.  She even said a few words to him and he replied.  Then, she accidentally hit a secret service car on the way home, but, again, that’s a whole ‘nuther blog.  We were die-hard republicans all the way baby.  Want more proof?  Fine, here ya’ go.  Can you stomach it?

Got this after George (see, I like to think I’m on a first name basis, because I voted for him and all) won the election.  I used to have this hanging up at my desk at work, but no one said anything.  I took it down a couple of years later, because I was ashamed (that no one said anything AND because no one knew what it meant). 

Okay, here’s a Christmas card we received this past Christmas (well, it was addressed to my sister, but I opened it and claimed it as “ours”).

This was the front… and next to that was the inside.   An official Christmas card from the White House signed by George and Laura Bush (well, stamped signature, but still…I’m easy).  Believe it or not, this is the third “official” piece of paper that we have received from the White House.  The first one was cute...my nephew wrote to President Clinton that he wished we could have 4th of July every day.  He got an official letter back from the White House AND a signed picture of Bill Clinton (ugh, I just wished Bill Clinton could go away). 

From the associated press and Fox News online...(http://www.foxnews.com/story/0,2933,328745,00.html)

LAFAYETTE, Tenn. —  Residents in five Southern states tried to salvage what they could Wednesday from homes reduced to piles of debris, a day after the deadliest cluster of tornadoes in nearly a decade tore through the region, snapping trees and crumpling homes. At least 50 people were dead.

Rescue crews, some with the help of the National Guard, went door-to-door looking for more victims. Dozens of twisters were reported as the storms swept through Kentucky, Tennessee, Mississippi, Arkansas and Alabama.

Seavia Dixon, whose Atkins, Ark., home was shattered, stood Wednesday morning in her yard, holding muddy baby pictures of her son, who is now a 20-year-old soldier in Iraq. Only a concrete slab was left from the home.

The family's brand new white pickup truck was upside-down, about 150 yards from where it was parked before the storm. Another pickup truck the family owned sat crumpled about 50 feet from the slab.

"You know, it's just material things," Dixon said, her voice breaking. "We can replace them. We were just lucky to survive."

This is shocking.  My thoughts are with you all....

 Let me tell you the story of “Lauscha.”  She wasn’t my dog, she was my sister’s; but that didn’t matter because we all loved her equally, just the same.  Lauscha and I have been living together since 2004; but I’ve known this dog since she was a puppy.  I actually helped to raise her as a puppy, because my sister worked nights and didn’t want to leave a new puppy alone at night.  I had a puppy as well who was her age, my “wolf-dog” Duncan, aka “Cookie;” so it was all good.  She was a character.  She loved kids.  She loved watching football on television.  She loved going to our cabin in northern Wisconsin and walking in the river or talking a jaunt across the street with “grandma,” (my mom) to look at cows.  She loved going bye-bye in the car.  She loved belly rubs and affection, lots and lots of affection.  She had really bad gas, and when she tooted, she looked at her butt (that was always a laugh, no matter how many times she did it before).  She let everyone in our house who was invited in; otherwise, she did play “Rottweiler.”  She was polite and obedient.  She hated fireworks and the mailman (we never knew why, either).  We used to ask her to “go see” who was at the door.  If she barked, it was a stranger; if you heard panting and her toenails clicking on the kitchen tiles, it was one of her “people” (like grandma or grandpa or one of the kids or a close family friend).  She knew how to tell time, when it was time to get up, go outside for potty, get the kids from school, go to bed.  We called her a marshmallow.  She didn’t have a mean bone in her body.  She was just one big 110 pound bucket of love.  Her name was German (from a town in Germany), but she also liked the names “Baby Girl,” and “Putter.”

She got sick about March of last year.  We managed her illness with a balance of medications, a great diet, affection, and whatever else we could do.  She started getting really bad around the summer.  By Christmas, we knew she wouldn’t be around much longer, and we had to start making some decisions.  On Friday, she completely lost most of her physical capabilities.  She could no longer walk and had become incontinent of her bowels.  She was panting a lot (a dog’s way of telling you they’re hurting).  My sister and I along with the guidance of my mom made the decision to let her go peacefully, to help her along, to end her pain.  We all said good-bye, held her, and let our veterinarian gently end her suffering. 

I’ve been beside myself with grief, but I knew this was coming.  I miss her so much.  It’s just so weird not hearing her grunting around the house or setting up her food dish in the morning or counting three heads when everyone is outside to go potty; however, it would have been so cruel for us to have let her suffer any longer.  She lived a very good life.  For 11 years, we babied her, took her all over the United States, took her to our cabin, let her watch football and television with us, let her sleep wherever she wanted, played with her, showered her with heaps of affection, gave her a boyfriend (my dog Duncan), and just loved, loved, loved her.  Although losing her has made me so sad now, I’m happy she’s no longer in pain and that she’s crossed the rainbow bridge and will happily be diverted until we can meet again.  My nephew, who is 3, told my mom last year when she lost her beloved greyhound Suzy, “It’s okay gramma.  Suzy’s in heaven now with all the grandmas and grandpas.”  That makes me even more happy.  Lauscha loved grandma and grandpa types.