Latte Lectures - Culture and Society

The DUH Files

willowanne@gmail.com (Auntie Willow) — Sat, 10 Jun 2006 11:17:56 -0700

Well Dear Ones,
My plans for taking over the world are proceeding apace.
Sometimes, though, it takes a little bit of free time.
It's all I can do to keep up with the News these days.
And then, you have to go to the trouble to sort out the real news from what I like to call the "DUH" (Delinquently Updated Hearsay) file.
The Duh file is the place where I stick all the news stories that anybody with half a brain and 8th grade level literacy could see coming last October. Which pretty much covers ABC, CBS, NBC, CNN and unfortunately about 50% of NPR.
After sorting all that out, you have to hunt far and wide to find the REAL news, which of course sets the stage for next October's DUH file.
So let's take a look at this week's DUH file, shall we?

Al Quaeda's #2 Man in Iraq Dies!

NOT attacking him several times BEFORE the invasion

we've been searching for him since May.

AT LEAST 37,000 civilian deaths,

Ann Coulter is a Vicious Hatemonger with an Alleged Eating Disorder

There are Gay People. And They're destroying American Families

"Foxfire".

Now. I've got to go call Ann Coulter. I want to feed her (she needs it) and give her a big hug!

Bad News for Hippies

willowanne@gmail.com (Auntie Willow) — Fri, 21 Apr 2006 15:08:57 -0700

Dear Ones, I am so sorry to tell you this.
And the day after 4/20, to boot!
The FDA has decided that Marijuana has no medical benefit.
Now, the only reason left to smoke it is because it makes you look cool.
Which of course it doesnt! I mean, "Dope is for Dopes!"
You've seen the commercials, it's just stupid to smoke.
After all, would you want to end up like Snoop Dogg, Cheech and Chong, every non-Christian Rap rapper, or Jerry Brown, former governor of California?
Of course not. Jim Morrison smoked marijuana, and He's DEAD!
After all, a woman who has been elevated to the status of Bitchy Godmother of the American People (Just those American People that live in the United States, mind you), Nancy Reagan, would be so disappointed in you!
Sure, some of you naysayers point out that since they won't FUND any studies on the Medical Efficacy of the Evil Weed, or give any marijuana to the few serious medical researchers who have tried to study it, then they can't get a quality study done. They also won't let anyone in a serious laboratory setting GROW any, because that would be illegal. AND they ignored the definitive study done by the American Academy of Science, the most prestigious United States Peer Review body in existence, which said that Medical Marijuana was (I believe this is an actual quote) Groovy (sp? Groovie?).
I would just like to remind you that any group whose name ends with the word "Head" hates America. Like the Eggheads who used their "science" to say it was all right (the same people, I might add, that brought us the myths of Global-Warming induced Killer Hurricanes and Evolution!). How about the Potheads, who obviously want to replace morality with a free-style hippie love in! That's what they want, all right, to sit around and bang drums and use their civil liberties and not randomly invade countries (After we're done with the I's, watch out, Jamaica!).
No, I'm glad the FDA decided to go with cheap political pandering to the religious right and ignore science! It gets easier the second time around, doesn't it?
As a matter of fact, if you dope-fiends hadn't been destroying American values, then John Ashcroft wouldn't have had to make you a higher priority than terrorism. And you're still at it! Still causing us to reassign FBI agents from counterterrorist activities to stop your evil pot-smoking ways. Yes, I'm talking to you, Tommy Chong! Imagine how many terror plots we could have foiled if we didn't have to shut down your Bong Making Business!
Yes, you say that these things happened in 2001, 2002 and 2003. Sure you think that the NSA will probably just tell the FBI what you are thinking about so that the G-Men are freed up to go after Marines, Ted Kennedy and Terrorist Babies when they try to catch flights. And there are now over 325,000 Known terrorists trying to book flights (I'm guessing Travelocity, but I can't be sure), although you should subtract Ted Kennedy, the Marine, and the Baby from that number. And of course they are all terrorists. They wouldn't be suspects if they weren't suspicious. So to all of you Californians out there, catching cancer and glaucoma just so you can toke up, I say Stop Hating America.
Now, for those of you Dearies that don't know what 4/20 is, well, all I can say is I'm proud of you. It is a stupid, stupid thing done by teenagers and audiovisual librarians, and decent folk should be at home that day. I know that all of you will be. And you know where I'll be, out thwacking hippies with my ruler, and confiscating their evil herb. Don't worry, I'll burn it when I get home.

Arts and Crafts Week

willowanne@gmail.com (Auntie Willow) — Thu, 06 Apr 2006 14:52:31 -0700

Well Dearies, It appears that this week is Arts and Crafts week here on Infinite Lattes!
I was reading our friend Gary's blog, and he had this interesting little picture posted on it.
I must confess, I laughed so hard that Latte almost spewed out of my nose!
Whenever that happens, however, Dear Auntie usually starts thinking. What other things, besides that brick wall, are still loading?
Could that explain some of the great mysteries of our time?
Inspired, I immediately searched Whitehouse.Gov, the official website of the President of the United States on the Internets.
And there, buried deep in the secret archives, was this picture. I think that this explains it all!

What do you think?

Mississippi Rebel

willowanne@gmail.com (Auntie Willow) — Thu, 30 Mar 2006 13:37:08 -0700

Gosh Dearies!
When the person in charge of something is such a small-minded, petty, jealous, and vengeful little twit, the entire organization takes on their personality and quickly becomes something less than worthwhile. Yes, I know that describes your local school board, community place of worship (whether or not your particular form of worship includes goats), and also your local video rental store.
Unfortunately, in this case we are talking about the Federal Government of the United States of America. You can guess who the twit is who's in charge. I have my guess written down on a piece of paper, but it is tough for me to be sure of anything anymore.
Except for this fascinating tidbit. It is about a man named Billy McGee. And he is undoubtedly a rebel.
Now, some of you probably wonder how a man who has been a sheriff in the state of Mississippi for 15 years could be a rebel. I mean southern sheriffs are not notorious for what you might call "Unpatriotic Behaviour". But certainly "Interfering with a Federal Operation" and "Interfering, Intimidating and Impeding a Federal Officer" are certainly things that only a black-leather clad bad-boy Rebel ("Don't stand too close baby, You'll get Burned") would do!
Now Auntie Willow has known a Rebel or two in her time. Well, at least they said they were when they tried to buy me a drink. Usually though, their "Rebellion" consists of putting on a leather jacket after a hard week of chartered accountancy, and riding a motorcycle that they bought with Zero percent interest but intend to terminate the lease shortly before the balloon payment is do, resulting in a net-loss carry-forward of capital expenditures for the fourth quarter. Yes, I know, it made me WANT them also!
But Sheriff Billy (certainly not the name for your run of the mill rebel) committed a far greater crime. He moved two semi-trailer trucks full of ice and water to people who were dying of thirst and medicine spoilage after a hurricane. I know, I thought the Republic would collapse when I heard about it, too.
See kids, there was a big storm called "Hurricane Katrina". You might have read about it in your Social Studies hour, but fortunately that has been cut to concentrate on teaching you Reading Recognition for the "No Child Left Behind" tests. Anyway, some people thought that not rescuing tens of thousands of people trapped after a hurricane wiped out two of our 50 United States was somewhat of a foul-up on the part of the Federal Government. And indeed, it turns out that trucks with food, water, ice, medicine, blankets and many other things people want when their entire town was destroyed were sent to the area quickly. But as we all know, you can't release a truck with Ice on it without a form FEMA 1032-stroke-J part A, no matter how many whiny bitches are saying that their insulin will go bad if it gets hot. Sure, two trucks filled with ice and water made it to a National Guard base in Sheriff Billy's county 3 days after the storm hit. And sure, they were still sitting there two days later, or the fifth day after Mississippi was forcibly relocated 60 miles to the north of where it used to be. But you have to be PATIENT people! I mean our President CUT SHORT his Vacation by TWO WHOLE DAYS to fly to the area to promise Trent Lott a new house. And you can't expect everybody to just drop everything for you, do you? I mean there weren't any people at that National Guard base for a REASON! They were fighting Terrorists "Over There" so we wouldn't have to worry about having them at home to safeguard our country! Come on people, they were in Iraq! They couldn't deploy the ice. Can't you just wait for your stupid insulin until the Iraqis "Stand Up so we can Stand Down?"
Well obviously, the answer is no. Hotheaded little Sheriff Billy drove down to the base and asked why the trucks were still there. He was told "Because we don't know where to take them." Of course they didn't, they didn't have a FEMA 1032-stroke-J part A! Anyway, Sheriff Billy said "I know where to take them." And proceeded to lead the trucks to some people that had been without potable (that means drinkable) water for 3 days. Sure it saved a couple of dozen elderly people, but when Trent Lott got finished talking with the President, he might have been THIRSTY! And then, four days later, when the paperwork cleared, the trucks couldn't be sent to the right place, because they were all used up! And if you think those people in Mississippi were thirsty on their fifth day, imagine how thirsty the people of Billings Montana would have been on the 9th day after the hurricane!
So, of course, Sheriff Billy is being ~~persecuted~~ prosecuted. It is, after all, a felony. I mean sure, he did save a lot of lives, but you just can't have people going around saving whomever they please. You know what that leads to? Anarchy!
So sing a song for Sheriff Billy the Rebel, who is awaiting trial in Louisiana. Yes, there is an Petition to help him circulating online, but I don't know if it works, or if the site is valid. I know that the petitions in Forrest County, Mississippi are falling on deaf ears. After all, word from our glorious leader is "We don't govern by Polls." And a petition to redress a legitimate grievance with the government is just another poll, now isn't it!

Way to go TEXAS!

willowanne@gmail.com (Auntie Willow) — Sat, 25 Mar 2006 14:29:21 -0700

Texas, Theocracy. Both start with a T. Conicidence?
Well Dear Ones,
I'm not going to post what I originally intended today.
I have two stories that have been sworn to me are absolutely true, and I think they are hilarious. I'll share them with you tomorrow or Monday (even though I'm closed!).
The reason is that I have heard something truly; well there is no other word for it, asinine.
You see, people are being arrested for being drunk. In bars.
That's right, there is a state of the United States that has been sending undercover officers into bars to find people that are drinking. Imagine! An officially licensed bar in a city that allows alcohol sales, and there were people sitting in the bars drinking! Like they had a right!
Oh, I'm sorry. You are probably saying "well of course, they were walking to their cars or something." Yes, although technically they have a right to throw up on their floorboards as long as they're not driving when they do it. But these people weren't walking to their cars. Or being loud and rowdy. Officers weren't called by the staff, because of a disruptive patron.
They were sitting in a bar, drinking. Imagine the hubris of drinking in a bar!
In one case, the bar was in a hotel. Now some people would say that if all you have to do is stagger up to your room, then you should be allowed to drink. I just want to know why those people hate America? Sure, the guy was staying in the hotel, was from out of town, and had 6 beers. Now, Auntie knows a few people who would call that "breakfast" (don't be like them, Dearies!). But of course, this man thought that just because he was eating a hamburger in the bar in his hotel, and drinking, and STAYING there, and not driving, and not making too much noise (although I imagine the flatulence might have been deafening after a hamburger and 6 beers), and the staff didn't complain, or call the police, or cut him off, that he was safe. Poor ignorant fool! People don't DRINK in Texas with impunity! It is against state law to be drunk in public. And bars are by legal definition public places. So the undercover agent (not a police officer in uniform, mind you) took him outside, handcuffed him and arrested him. Safe! Texas Safe Again! After all, it might be the first time that someone in Texas has ever been caught drinking. Oh wait, I'm sorry, you're right. IT WAS IN A BAR!.
But you are probably saying that anyone that exceeded the legal limit for driving could be considered drunk. And Auntie Willow has lost control behind the wheel of a barstool or two, and it didn't seem to be nearly as bad as if I had been driving.
Yet at the same time, all the officer has to do is decide that the person is drunk enough to "pose a threat to themselves or others". No word on whether or not that includes emotional threats. So, no, no sobriety test is administered. No breathalyzer, or blood test, or anything. Just something along the lines of "That person just burned their mouth on Pizza and tried to cool it with a glass of wine. I'd better step in before they injure themselves further. Or God Forbid turn it on someone else. After all, that Pizza has a point on it!"
So you see, Texas is really SAVING YOU FROM YOURSELF. Just like when they start arresting us for criticizing George Bush. They're saving us from ourselves! Since he's best for the country, and we want him gone, then we must not only hate America, but ourselves! If we were in a bar, we'd be arrested. But we're not, so I guess we have to take a page from the Soviet Playbook and send us to a Mental Institution. "Your honor, this Librarian is clearly a danger to herself and others."
You know, maybe there wouldn't be the need for undercover officers if the laws of the land were just. Then people would support them. Then cops wouldn't be hated. If you have to sneak around to enforce a law because it is so widely held in contempt by the people.MAYBE YOU SHOULD CHANGE IT! Hey, why don't they? If nobody agrees with it, and it is a "Government of the People, by the People and for the People", then it would be changed. Oh wait, I'm sorry, there go my seditious tendencies (eg, reading and following the Constitution).
Way to go Texas Republicans! Thanks for getting government off our backs. Enjoy your theocracy!

Paranoia

willowanne@gmail.com (Auntie Willow) — Thu, 16 Mar 2006 19:02:57 -0700

Well Dearies, I'd like to take a moment to welcome Pissed Off Patricia back to the Latte Lectures!
Apparently she has been a little busy. Her house was hit by Hurricanes Francis, Jean and Wilma (although not all at once!).
Is it any wonder her new blog is called Morning Martinis? Now Auntie Willow doesn't necessarily approve of drinking before 8:30 am (I usually wake around 9), but in Patricia's case it certainly makes sense. If my bar is in danger of being blown away by a hurricane, I certainly want to fortify myself for the experience. Plus I know what the people upwind of me drink, and I assure you it is not an acceptable substitute (I know all beer is named "Beer", but it seems like there should be more written on the can than just "Beer").
But it is good to have her back. Perhaps using the combined brainpower of Gary and Patricia, they can help me come up with an answer for some of the little oddities of life that have cropped up lately.
First, let me start with the most frightening incident. This actually happened on February 27th, but I was in the middle of some kind of masochistic orgy of writing, so all I did was avoid the area.
You see, there was a massive (almost) terror incident in a town called Conway, Arkansas.
It was a morning like any other morning, at the Emergency room at Conway Regional Medical Center. An unidentified nurse was "triaging" (that's adult talk for trying to figure out if filling out the insurance information FIRST would kill you. If it won't, then we like our cash up front. If it will, then we'll just rifle through your pockets later). The Nurse and the Patient started having difficulty breathing! Then their throats started burning! The poor dears, if only they had read my survival handbook, they would have known what to do (hint, you will need a plastic bag and a roll of tape).
Now, no one had noticed a swarthy man in the area, so police were unable to confirm reports of hundreds of dusky skinned types dancing around shouting "Ayatollah Ayatollah!" Nevertheless, something drastic had to be done. The entire hospital was quarantined, and members of the Arkansas National Guard's 61st Civil Support team got a chance to put on their chemical alert gear and fire up their 6-wheeled ATV. Other members of the team Watched feed from a hand-held video camera from a remote area. I wonder if that remote area started with the letter I and ended with the letters "Unmitigated disaster for this country". (No kids, not IRAN! We haven't invaded there yet! Iraq!)
Now, I am sure that the members of the 61st Civil Support team are wonderful, highly trained guys. And I'm glad that they are there. I am really not making fun of them. I am wondering, however, if they felt just the slightest bit pissed when their complex chemical analysis turned up: Pepper Spray. That's right, your Auntie's favorite aerosol. Auntie wondered if the simple expedient of asking around (or even, umm, looking) would not have revealed a sheepish person who was blushing and apologizing for (how to put it delicately) an "Accidental Discharge".
A non-lethal, legal chemical designed to: make breathing difficult and burn your throat. Apparently, Conway is such a hotbed of crime (well, according to news reports, a young man was spotted one day wearing a blue neckerchief, a well known gang sign.) (Okay, it turned out to be a hobo).
If this sounds like a lot of buildup for a lame punchline, you should watch the video. It all but said that we were barely saved from a combination of the movies Outbreak, Red Dawn and Lawrence of Arabia. After 3 minutes of rambling on, they tack on "oh, it turned out to be pepper spray". That's why Auntie is not a Newscaster. My story tagline would have been something like "Years of Fear-mongering and Overreaction culminate in serious inconvenience for the few rational people left in Conway, Arkansas." Or something like that. "Nervous Nellies Annoy National Guard" if you wanted to go with something a bit punchier. Certainly not "Hospital ER goes on Lockdown", followed by a long piece insinuating it was almost curtains for us all.
Still, if this is the worst example of Fear-Mongering and useless hype by the press all year, then I guess we'll be doing ok.
Yeah, I thought so too.
Oh well, tomorrow I promise to share with you two Actual tales of computer support! That will help to explain why Auntie barely bats an eye at most stupidity.

Best Monday Ever?

willowanne@gmail.com (Auntie Willow) — Mon, 27 Feb 2006 16:27:30 -0700

This is, quite frankly, the best Monday ever!
I don't like to make my days compete for ranks, Dear Ones, it is quite simply déclassé. So what I will say is that this Monday is in the top 3 without any effort whatsoever, and although there won't be a runoff, this has a number one (in pencil) on it.
Today, let's see, it started out with a phone call, the confused and out of focus voice of my now official Ex was mumbling something about the judge signing off, and voila, I was officially Divorced! I'm thinking of it like a "get away from jackass free" card on the Monopoly board of Life. I wish him well, though, I really do. The last time I spoke with him he mentioned pitching a show to the cooking networks called "Cooking for Drunks". I've seen the pilot, though; he basically stands around drinking cooking sherry while putting 3 kinds of cheese on fried foods. (The three kinds: American, Velveeta, and something in a white bag labeled only "Cheez"). I thought he might have problems getting it on the air, but I have to tell you that the end of the show, where he accidentally sets his apron on fire, had me laughing until I wet myself.
I found out that someone actually bought my book on Word, so that makes me a professional author! I will make you all the same promise. if you read the book and don't learn at least one thing about Word, then e-mail me at auntiewillow@infinitelattes.com, and I will answer your questions and send detailed info until you have learned something! Add to that lunch with a truly dear friend, sunny weather that is not out of season, and not being at work today (it's my days off, dearies) and I have to tell you, top 3 with no effort!
I'll be back tomorrow with angry mutterings about Republicans, god knows they deserve it. My roommate just said that according to the paper that the Army rolled over on Haliburton's contract, agreeing to pay them even though every Government Accounting office that looked at it said that there was at least 250 million in overcharges, and probably more. I promised to quote him saying "I guess now that Cheney is shooting people legally, they're scared and giving in."
Oh, they're just flashing his new poll numbers for Bush! 34%! For the second time today, I find myself laughing so hard I've wet myself. I do believe I'll go change clothes and celebrate.

Happy 75 Latte Lectures!

willowanne@gmail.com (Auntie Willow) — Thu, 16 Feb 2006 18:01:42 -0700

Today is the Diamond Anniversary, Dear Ones!
This is my 75th post on Infinite Lattes' little Latte Lectures, and I'm feeling rather smug.
Of course, I'm not sure if 75 posts really counts for a diamond, and at this time, contrary to all good sense, no one is stepping forward to hand me one.
Well pooie! I'll have a celebration on my own.
Not all 75 posts are on the server, of course. There are three that didn't quite "make the cut", as it were.
After posting them as drafts, I realized that they weren't quite up to the standards that I hold for myself. After all, I wouldn't want you Dearies to think that Auntie was slipping, or just "mailing it in" the way that nice young Scott McLellan at the White House Press Office has to do so many days. So I'm sorry to say, three of my posts had to be deleted.
The first one was just too short. It was written shortly after somebody (don't worry, I won't give out your name, George Bush) told a lie that was so brazen, so bold, and so "bald-faced" that if there had been a Just and Merciful God on watch that night, we would be singing "Hail to the Chief" to a smoking pile of ashes. Oddly enough, it has happened so many times lately that I can't honestly remember which one it was. That post only consisted of the words "This guy thinks that we are total f^)%ing Morons, and indeed, we might be!". As you can see, the profanity was not appropriate for your age group, and the overall flow was not what I feel people expect from your Dear Auntie Willow.
The second post that didn't make the cut was titled "Auntie Raves for Raves." You see, sometimes your Auntie likes to get a feel for what you kids were all about, so against my better judgment, I attended a soiree of sorts that was held in an abandoned warehouse late at night. The details are a bit hazy to me, but suffice to say I thought I had a good time during the event, but a week later when I awoke in Parsippany, NJ, I wasn't so sure. Not only that, but there was the question of just who "Jeremy and Tina" are, and what they are doing with their names tattooed directly across from my only other tattoo, which is (of course) Magician David Copperfield's face. Since that tattoo is in a particularly private area, I can only hope that I knew the tattoo artist well. As you can imagine the post was full of Purple Prose and Blue Humor, making for a very colorful document, indeed. I'm afraid that I had to delete it before I was forced to explain certain consensual acts to all of you before your young minds were ready.
What about the last missing post? It was titled quite simply: "Wanda Lou Stratham of Melon Street in Little Rock is a Raging Bitch". I can't go into further details because of the same thing that caused me to delete it. Which is to say the advice of my Attorneys.
Well, I hope that you dear ones have enjoyed reading the first 75 (or, 72) posts as much as I have enjoyed writing them. I dearly wish that you will come back again many times; I do so enjoy our wonderful conversations! And let me just say, nothing would piss off that Raging Bitch Wanda Lou more!

Something Different to be MAD about

willowanne@gmail.com (Auntie Willow) — Sat, 04 Feb 2006 11:01:52 -0700

Want to know why I have such strong sympathy for our Lesbian Cheerleaders? Most of you are too literate and cultured to be plagued by the background that gets my blood boiling when I think about what happened to those two poor young women.
You might remember my seeming obsession with Lesbian Cheerleaders; and I had promised to reveal the real reasons for it at a later time. Welcome to Later.
You see, your Dear Auntie harbors a secret fascination. A fascination with American Football, in all of its pomposity and inflated worth. I'm amazed at the near impossible physical feats performed by the players, but the real reason that I like to watch is uncertainty.
That's right, the uncertainty of the outcome. We live in a world where everything is supposed to be already decided. Reporters regularly report on laws that will pass next week, next month, and next year. George Bush's State of the Union speech was already in the press before he gave it. Interest Rate raises are known days, sometimes weeks in advance, and every night, every one of us watches some blow-dried Ken Doll on local television assuring us that we will or won't need an umbrella 36 hours from now, thanks to NewsCenter 15's Ultra-Mega-Spectra-Doppler-Radar Thingie. As a matter of fact, they're even reporting on who's going to win the Oscars, and they just announced the nominees!
But you can't predict football. People try, but they really can't. And every fan knows it. Knows the old maxim "On Any Given Sunday, Any Team can beat Any Other Team." Which is why I love it so (that, plus a lifetime of indoctrination in a football rich area). And it's ok for Girls to love football. If they didn't, there wouldn't be Cheerleaders. Even the straight ones. (I don't want to play football, although some women do. Basically, the padding would make my ass look bigger, but not in a good way.)
Which brings us back to our dear Lesbian Cheerleaders. I know most of our readers don't follow such a tawdry spectacle, so they have probably missed the saga of one Rae Carruth.
Rae Carruth was a wide receiver for a team known as the Carolina Panthers. The same football team, in fact, that Angela Keathley and Renee Thomas, the "Lesbian Cheerleaders" cheered for.
But that's where their stories stop being the same. Whereas Angela Keathley is charged with having a good time (apparently a misdemeanor in Florida) and Renee Thomas was charged with the more serious crime of using a fake id to get into a nightclub, Rae Carruth was found guilty of masterminding the murder his pregnant girlfriend, Cherica Adams. I should say, his 7 months pregnant with his own child girlfriend, Cherica Adams.
Now, as of course you know, in a Theocracy like North Carolina, Lesbian Cheerleaders can't be allowed to poison the minds of youth with even one additional day of holding their important office. So the two were fired the day after their little soiree.
Rae Carruth, on the other hand, drew a paycheck from the Panthers for a week after he was arrested and released on bail for blocking his girlfriend's car while two thugs he hired shot her. After that, of course, they placed him on unpaid administrative leave, because if you are the team's number one draft pick, you are innocent until proven guilty of the woman's dying declaration that he blocked her car while she was being fatally shot.
As a matter of fact, you're not even technically fired until after you flee the state in the trunk of a car because the mother of your child (who was born 10 weeks premature while his mother was dying in the hospital) had finally succumbed to the gunshots that you told one of your other girlfriends that you setup. As the song says, "You've got to be a football hero" indeed.
Of course, Rae Carruth is now in prison. His 4 year old son, Chancellor, has Cerebral Palsy, and lives with his maternal grandmother. A judge recently ruled that the son can't be forced to visit his worthless sperm-donor father in prison.
The Carolina Panthers somehow survived the loss of their high-priced, injury plagued, mediocre wide receiver and came within one game of going to this years Superbowl. I personally think they lost that last game because they lacked the support of two young cheerleaders, but I'm sure there are plenty in North Carolina that think that they would be there if they had a quality receiver like Rae Carruth, and didn't have God's disfavor for allowing Dangerous Lesbians to wear skintight spandex on the sidelines.
Meanwhile, our Friends the Cheerleaders are facing what passes for Justice in the State of Florida.
There is no word on whether or not young cheerleaders in the Carolinas are turning to rampant Lesbianism after the actions of what are obvious Role Models.
Now do you know why I think that it hardly seems fair?

Hello New Friends

willowanne@gmail.com (Auntie Willow) — Fri, 03 Feb 2006 16:35:00 -0700

Dearies,
My web hosting company provides a certain number of free web traffic reports.
Since I lack the imagination to figure out how to make money, I don't usually bother to read them, or pay the extra $6.00 (US) per month to get the reports that would tell me what kind of socks my visitors are wearing.
But recently, they added a new report that piqued my interest. It is a report of the search phrases or search words that a visitor has entered to find my website. The leader in the search phrases, of course, is "Auntie Willow is hot." Thanks to the simply Scads of people that think of that first when they think of me.
Still, some rather interesting phrases did crop up. I will share them with you so that you can be just as puzzled as I am. In no particular order, they are:

Aging Narcisist.
How very sweet of you to think of me Dearies. It is also nice to know that these giant commercial search engines have me indexed under the correct keywords. Don't be shy, I'll allow you to bask in the warm glow of my company!

Ewain McGregor and Ewain McGregor Photo.
That's right Ewain! I'm available! If you'll just lift that pesky little restraining order, I'll come to you, Darling!

Lesbian Cheerleaders
Which reminds me. This weekend I need to post (in honor of the Superbowl) the reasons why I found the Lesbian Cheerleaders so fascinating. Trust me, it's not just the "Good Girls Gone Bad" aspects (although, I must say from experience, if they continue their present course, they will almost certainly wind up as Fantastically Beautiful Computer Librarians).

Debra Lafave Divorce Finalized
What? More interest in the Too Pretty for Jail post? I must have been on my game that day, as they say. The Lesbian Cheerleaders? Debra Lafave? Tom Delay? Or the thought of an unholy union between them all? Who can truly tell what is in the mind of the connoisseur?

Ginger Maryanne Pie Fight Making Of
I didn't realize that I had anything that would pull up under this. What an excellent idea for a post!

Her Grandfather gave her a good spanking
May he rest in peace. And for the record, Dearies, I don't let people spank me. I can assure you, it would have been the other way around.

History of Chineses Games starting from the 1350's
Gosh. Another great idea for a post, but still a bit confusing to me.
Marco Polo wrote about a game in China called (rough translation) "The Italian buys every Chinese Guy at the Bar a drink." He stated that although the rules were complicated, he never caught on and somehow always wound up losing money when he played. I know I did intend to write something about this game, but I didn't actually get around to writing it. Is this software good enough that it is indexing things I only thought about writing? Could it post things I didn't know I was going to write yet? This is almost as scary as the thought of a Human/Animal Hybrid.

Gigolo Spank Mature
Ahh, my own personal favorite. Believe it or not TWO of you stumbled to my little home on this websearch. Did they mean a Mature Gigolo getting spanked or a Gigolo spanking someone Mature? Could these be the "Aging Narcissist" seekers? Surely you don't insinuate that I pay for someone to spank ME? People come here begging me to spank them. Are these two lonely souls Gigolos who feel that they have somehow violated the Library's Rules and Regulations? Interesting, titillating (I put that in to cross reference me on a search engine, dontcha know), but a little confusing. If these Dearies truly want to get spanked, just come by my library and turn off the power on the main public printer. I assure you, Auntie Willow will come down and make your spanking fantasies come true! Shortly before she hurls you out of the library.

Well, I'm glad I could take you on a little behind the traffic tour of the Latte Lectures. Who knows what web searches will bring strangers to our little conversations? I'm certainly looking forward to it!

Poor Charlene

willowanne@gmail.com (Auntie Willow) — Thu, 02 Feb 2006 18:08:37 -0700

Yes, my Dear Ones, I will post something else today.
Did you think that I would just leave you with that enticing nugget about databases? Of course not.
The question, as always, is what to write.
It is so difficult to keep up with the Republican Spin these days. As they wander farther and farther from the truth, it is more and more difficult to not just have posts reading "Duh" and "Liars" and "If they REALLY believe that, then we're all in trouble.
If you took a black marker and marked through everything in the State of the Union speech that was a lie, you would be left with the words "Americans" and "Night" sitting in the middle of a blackened page.
Is it any wonder that the mind of a humble librarian reels back from the sordid oiliness of it all? That my thoughts turn towards Keanu Reeves bathing (actually, Keanu Reeves bathing me!) and my fingers take me to the Ben and Jerry's Ice Cream homepage?
I am reminded of my friend Charlene's retreat from reality. After a series of unfortunate events landed her in Sugarland, Texas (home of our friend Mr. Tom Delay), the poor Dearie's mind snapped. Who would have thought that she knew so much French? Vacillating between Joan of Arc and Napoleon Bonaparte, she revealed a thoroughly detailed knowledge of French Military History. The fact that the only facility they could find to treat her was a Christian Counseling facility did not help with the Joan of Arc thing one bit. The periodic book burning pyres (mostly Al Franken with a few dog-eared copies of Catcher in the Rye tossed on top) in that part of Texas convinced her further that she had fallen into British custody and was doomed to be burned at the stake. Only the fact that they don't speak English in Texas prevented her from a full blown confession to witchcraft.
We realized that she was in deep trouble when she checked out and promptly "stole a march" as they say on her way to Cut-N-Shoot Texas (yes it's a real town, go Mapquest it why dontcha!). Normally I'm amused by the antics of Southeast Texans (they're so cute when they're turning our Nation into a Theocracy), but I have to admit, the hordes of rampaging French Musketeers that were foraging in the Beaumont countryside did nothing to ease the tensions between our two countries at that time.
Fortunately direct intervention by Auntie Willow in the form of a pepper spraying followed by a fruit salad of legal and illegal tranquilizers was able to nip her recreation of the Battle of Austerlitz in the bud. The only real damage occurred at the Vider, Texas Texaburger Restaurant, when members of Napoleon's Old Guard objected to being offered "Freedom Fries" instead of "Pomme-de-Terre Frites".
Charlene is feeling much better now. She bided a while in my tender care, and has slowly returned to herself after I removed her internet connection and set parental locks on every television channel except Cartoon Network. Now if she'll just get her damned Garde Imperiale Cavalry off my lawn, Auntie might even smile again!

What I did on my Vacation

willowanne@gmail.com (Auntie Willow) — Wed, 14 Dec 2005 11:59:24 -0700

Well Dearies,
I just wanted to say that I am so sorry for taking so many days off for my birthday.
Of course, as you can imagine, I wasnt idle, but actually quite productive.
So, to hopefully keep you from feeling like I have been neglecting you, I thought I would write a brief account of a few of my activities.
First off, lets just not ask too many questions about Friday. I remember Thursday thinking that I would spend the morning socializing with Max on the verandah. Since Max works nights, Friday morning (at around 6:30) is his Friday Night. Dear Auntie remembers shuffling to the restroom (I always have to squint against the brilliance of my reflected beauty as I pass the mirror). I vaguely remember the first cup of coffee, and then the rest of the day passed in a blur. Lets just not talk or write about that day, lest the legal system accidentally get hold of it. That way, anything that you are forced to tell the local constabulary can be denied as hearsay. (If you want to avoid running afoul of the local clergy, you may also want to denounce it as heresy).
Saturday dawned late and fuzzy. I slowly returned to normal; my morning ritual of caffeination and throwing out men of loose moral fiber (who always seem to make it into my bedroom) rapidly returned my normal, cheerful demeanor. I dressed in wash and wear and headed towards my friend Suzys house, for a day of corrective discipline. Not her, but the poor daft dear has three felines that she absolutely dotes on. While she was dressing her multiple sutures (she claims that she is just clumsy, but no one who lives with a Siamese cat can have 70 stitches on her arms by accident). I had a nice treat of kippers and toast with the kitties, followed by a rousing game of thrash the cats that ate my toast that lasted most of the afternoon. Im so sorry that Suzy passed out from all of the excitement, but there was a sense of order lacking in that house, and I wasnt crowned the Abeline, Texas Catfight Champion of 1987 in order to let a bunch of mangy felines make off with my breakfast unchallenged. I promise you that when I left that house, Suzys Furry Friends had a new worldview that helped them to understand their place as the second-most vicious creatures in the cosmos. I do believe that next week I will begin teaching them how to curtsy when I enter a room. Some people think it cant be done, but I firmly believe that with proper corrective instruction anything is possible.
Sundays are always the days for fun with my lovely young gentlemen callers. Two days a row of wash and wear seriously strained my denim wardrobe, but it is no fun shredding a new pair of tights or breaking a heel when chasing two first graders up the side of a leafy hillside. Once again, I found them to be among the best conversationalists that I have ever met amongst males of the species. After their departure I eased my sore frame into a warm bubble bath while listening to music. I idly wondered the fate of the poor lesbian cheerleaders. My concern for them isn't just a scheme to boost my search results when people google "Lesbian Cheerleaders", there is also a sense of injustice about the whole affair. I resolved to do a web search to find out the latest, and perhaps post my reasons for being sympathetic to their plight at a later date.
Monday involved doing a lot of behind the scenes website maintenance. Auntie Willow is the sole proprietress of Infinite Lattes (more lattes for me!), and so sometimes I have to instill discipline in my technical services department. There are actually two other people blogging on Infinite Lattes now: my friend Rufbeast's En Lucha blog and his friend Moonpi's Wilderness Life. Rufbeast is a dear, longtime friend, who Auntie Willow loves very much. He has moved away from my hometown, but I still think about him whenever I'm pepper-spraying someone while listening to The Go-Go's. Anyway, I hope that you are nice to them if you see them wandering the halls. All I asked of them is the same thing that I humbly ask of you: please do not do anything that would cause the Secret Service to do things to me that were illegal until Lawrence v. Texas in 2003. I also installed some Magnetic Refrigerator Poetry in our humble home. It doesn't work well with Firefox, but Internet Explorer seems to like it.
Tuesday was spent adjusting the behaviour of other people's computers. The results were mixed. I thought about making a joke about it, but the truth is so boring that even the jokes about it are boring (How many programmers does it take to screw in a light bulb? None. I don't do hardware).
Tuesday evening was interesting, but not necessarily something that I am proud of. Once again your Auntie found herself in a court "Suggested" Anger Management Seminar. Fortunately for all of us, they confiscated pepper spray and blunt objects at the door. As we all gathered on the floor (no metal chairs allowed in anger management) the Instructor passed out paper towels and crayons (no stabby things like pencils or pens are allowed in anger management). I must say, they certainly have experience dealing with angry people. Those steps and a few others (posting the security guard outside, so not every little hiccough would result in Battery Charges) certainly reduced the bloodshed when that bloated jackass took the last bit of Dr. Pepper at the refreshment table (happily no plastic cups are allowed in anger management, only paper ones). After a rousing session, I stepped into the fresh night air, my ears still ringing with the numbers one through 10 shouted in a dozen languages as my comrades and I individually practiced controlling our anger. As I walked past half-a-dozen of my classmates beating a certain individual with an empty Dr. Pepper bottle, I realized that the judge was right, perhaps we all do need to take a little "timeout".
Which brings me up to today. I'm taking some time out on my last day of vacation to talk to you, my Dear Little Ones, while I complete Gary's and Jaimie H's presents for the "Special Day" contest. As tomorrow is payday, they will be deposited in the mail for this lucky boy and girl. I just wanted you to know that I loved you and thought of you.
Now I'm going to get some Dr. Pepper. There had better be some left, or someone is going to pay.

Do YOU hate America?

willowanne@gmail.com (Auntie Willow) — Fri, 18 Nov 2005 13:54:07 -0700

Of course you, well, actually I'm not so sure.
It can be so tiring to keep track of what makes you UnAmerican anymore, I've just about given up. I mean I've tried everything from baking apple pies to getting wardrobe tips from June Cleaver, but apparently that isn't enough. So mostly I just kiss my George W. Bush tatoo every day (considering where I had them put it, I'm glad I signed up for those Yoga Classes!) and think about all of those horrid little brown people getting what they deserve for going around trying to have their very own country.
But then I see something like THIS and my blood just boils!
Mean Ariana Huffington is being rude to Bill O'Reilly! Just because he said that he would publish a blacklist of Enemies of America on his website, Ariana decided to give them a quick link to be added to the list!
Imagine that, people that hate America signing up to voluntarily join the list of O'Reilly's enemies. What kind of libertine strumpet would put her name on that list? What kind of saucy tart would voluntarily say "Ok, if terrorists come here then I will defend myself with my very own ruler, please stop blowing up hundreds of thousands of people on the other side of the planet"? What kind of depraved individuals would join Ariana in defying no less of a moral (teehee! I almost said "Falafel") authority as Bill O'Reilly.
If you know of any, then just help us make sure that they get their name posted. There are probably going to be tens of millions of people on there, and I want to get Bill O the best list as quickly as possible. After all, he has got a lot of people to go yell at before he retires. He should be careful, though. Some of them have a brand new ruler with the name "Billy O" engraved on it. I'd hate to think what happens if he goes to that house!

The Evils of Marijuana

willowanne@gmail.com (Auntie Willow) — Tue, 01 Nov 2005 14:43:48 -0700

Your Auntie just finished talking to an old neighbor.
Earl has had a difficult time since Bush took office. His job was outsourced, and since then he has been struggling financially.
A staunch Republican since James Watt kicked the Beach Boys out of the park. Earl didn?t ?cotton to raggedy hippies?.
However, the loss of his job was followed by a period of protracted unemployment. Once his unemployment benefits ran out, Earl was at a loss for what to do about money. To his credit, he tried to incorporate the latest Republican teachings on Family Values. After all, if Dick Cheney approves of something, then it must be moral.
So Earl decided to make a "flophouse for the twenty-first century". He put up a sign that read ?Room, Board, and Sodomy - $15.00 a Day? and waited to follow the Hiltons into fortune as an upstanding member of the Hospitality Industry. Sad to say, his venture did not seem to attract the right element.
About this time, a passing gang of Rastafarian toughs began lounging outside the house. It took Earl a while to become convinced that the odor seeming to come from Auntie Willow?s room Was In Fact Coming from OUTSIDE the house and that the attic fan merely drew in any faint smell of smoke. (I had answered a different add, ?Room, Board and Spanking $15.00 a day?. There was some confusion when I convinced him that I would be the one dispensing justice, as it were)
Earl went outside to address the Rastafarians. That is where he was exposed to the evils of Marijuana.
The change was almost immediate. No longer did Earl stamp around the house, stained Merle Haggard t-shirt on. The CD player suddenly had Willie Nelson music on it 24 hours a day, and the suspicious behavior escalated.
About this time there was a hotly contested race in the County: I refer of course to the County Waste Management Board elections. In Earl?s weakened state he could not hold the party line: he voted for a Democrat. I would link to the candidate?s website, but no one had discarded a computer powerful enough to do web editing yet, so he never put up a website.
About this time, your Auntie had to leave Earl?s house. I have problems when confronted with moral turpitude, or at least moral turpitude where the recipient is too stoned to feel a wooden ruler hitting them.
However, this morning I got a chance to speak with Earl. He said that he was doing fine, but I don?t necessarily call it the same thing. He is terribly sorry he missed the Grateful Dead in their heyday, and since Phish retired he has nothing but Widespread Panic to follow. He has lost 15 pounds on a vegetarian diet, and is selling t-shirts out of the back of a van. He is hanging out with a woman named Star. He supports himself with T-Shirt sales and money he gets from renting his house to a bunch of Rastafarians. He is even considering joining the "Draft Kucinich" movement.
And that, Kiddies, is why your mother warned about pot!

What starts with a D and ends with a Bankruptcy?

willowanne@gmail.com (Auntie Willow) — Fri, 28 Oct 2005 10:20:30 -0700

You know that Auntie Willow doesn?t like to talk about her personal life, Dearies.
But the truth of the matter is that I have been distracted of late. You see, I am going through what Grownups call ?A Divorce?.
No, it doesn?t mean that I don?t love all of you. It is just that sometimes two grownups have to move apart, and divide the Wedgewood China (MINE!). Hopefully it is something that you won?t ever go through, but if you do, remember it is not the end of the world.
I couldn?t tell you any stories yesterday because I had to read some important papers, and make a lot of jokes about lawyers in front of my ex?s attorney (Why did the attorney cross the road? Because he was an evil, blood-sucking slime. Still working on the punch line to that one).
But that is all behind us now, Dearies. Auntie has signed some important letters using her full legal name ?Patricia Concepcion Chastity Faith Rhythm Method Willow xxxx?. XXXX stands for my last name, which I lost the right to use in the settlement. It?s ok, I got the Barcolounger, and won?t my ex shed tears when I send the video of me burning it as part of an anti-football party! (Whacha gonna do, sit on the china that you cheated me out of and watch the stupid Falcons on the black and white I left you!).
You see children this is why we have attorneys. They are a necessary evil, just like barbers named ?Earl? (if they didn?t give stupid haircuts, how would we know which men were Republicans?). Attorneys are there to be nasty to each other, for money, so Auntie Willow doesn?t have to face another assault charge. Thanks to their intrepid action, it is all over except for signing one more piece of paper (a mere formality, my attorney said. I thanked him, and handed him a handkerchief to wipe the pepper spray out of his eyes. Sometimes Auntie Willow does not take bad news with the proper etiquette).
Well, that unpleasantness is basically all behind us now. I still have my beauty, wit, health, and collection of ancient measuring sticks (My favorites are the yardstick from back when they first invented the yard, and the ?Cubit Club?, which is a lot like a yardstick only more biblical and more painful when it hits).
Auntie Willow is now free to spend more time with her ?Special Friends?. Not too much time, mind you! (I don?t another incident like San Francisco, where I woke up with a hangover and a tattoo on my inner thigh that read ?measure punishment? in Chinese characters. Apparently that is the closest phrase the Chinese have to Ruler Justice. Another hint, if you are close enough to read said tattoo, you can listen carefully and hear the whistling sound as the yardstick descends in a bright arc towards your backside.)
No, Auntie is doing a series of graceful Arabesques and Pirouetting her way into her new life. Right after I set fire to this reclining chair.