You know that thing that people do, where they accuse you of doing the very things that they themselves are egregiously guilty of? And then when it blows up they stand back and act as though they have gained wisdom about other people's Machiavellian motivations through the experience, yet seem to have no idea whatsoever that they are so deeply involved in denial and blame shifting that they've become a sanctimonious holier-than-thou asinine-hole? They do this because they cannot conceive of the possibility that they might somehow be the insanely wrong party. They do this in order to change the reality of the situation and avoid having to take a long hard look at their own behavior and questionable choices. It's all about the failure to accept responsibility, or even reality.
I hate that. Being on the receiving end of that crazy bat is really hard, too. I imagine that's what it's like to be a Democrat. You know, Republicans shout out the most insane babble about how the Democrats hate America because they want to stop the war, and when they try to point out to the Republicans that the war was based on lies, they sound all whiny and nit picky. How do the Republicans do that? Because they shout louder and insaner, and an audience loves that crap. The Democrats just hang tight and hope that reason will out.
Well anyway... I'm sorry to go on so. I haven't posted in a while because I've been bunched up about some things and I find it hard to write when I find the subject material I really want to rant about so personally distasteful. I know I shouldn't say the things I really want to say, and so it's not so much writer's block as writer's constipation. Christy, you're my spiritual ex-lax! I think I still need a good colon cleanse, though.
So, to change the subject, here's another picture of where I was last week!
This is a picture of Gay Head on Martha's Vineyard. What? No, I mean yes, really. Gay Head. Ok fine, here, I'll prove it:
Aside from the scenic and improbably named Gay Head, Martha's Vineyard also has other lighthouses and loads of gorgeous scenery and snooty people... and child molesters and wife beaters. It's a long story. The child molestation thing was borderline... it involves sitting in a brew-pub restaurant overlooking the ocean and watching this guy be overly patty with his 8 year old daughter. Nothing exactly over the line, but certainly uncomfortable and slightly inappropriate. There were about ten people at their table, so it was hard to decide if I should be beating him and calling child support, or just chalking it up to a weirdly affectionate family. I chalked it up and left, feeling uncomfortable.
Then that night, at about 3am, I was woken from a deep sleep in the charming New England Inn I was staying at in the town of Vineyard Haven on Martha's Vineyard by a loud crash followed by several muffled crashes coming from the room beneath me. I assumed that some drunken idiot had locked himself out of his room and after breaking his door down, was trying to make himself ready for bed. You know, drunkenly. I started to go back to sleep, when a loud moaning from the hallway roused me again. It was a woman, who sounded a bit like Moaning Myrtle, yelling "Oh my God! Somebody help me! Somebody please help me!" repeatedly. I dashed out of bed and threw up the sash... I had gotten a bit sunburned that day, swimming on the sunny Vineyard shore, and so when this lobster-red bald dude wearing nothing but his knickers came dashing gallantly out into the hall, he found a damsel in distress sobbing with her face in her hands at the top of the stairs and a cowardly man, all of a sudden backing off back down the stairs.
Long story short, we called the police after her husband took off with her car keys and all her money, and I didn't get back to sleep until 6 am. Grumble grumble. And just earlier that day I'd been thinking about how easy a job the cops must have on Martha's Vineyard. It all looks very charming and nice, but even paradise has a seedy underbelly, apparently.
Other than that sordid little adventure, I have nothing but positive reviews for the place. If you ever go, see it by scooter. You can zip around the island in a day and see some of the most fantastic beach houses you are ever likely to see, spectacular scenery right out of Norman Rockwell and/or Maxfield Parrish, get some beach time in on arcadian shores, (I really like that word. Arcadian.) and even, if you're very lucky, fight some crime.
The rest of my Martha's Vineyard pictures are up here.
So Mike, what you're saying is you went out and got yourself some aquinnah (that's what the kids are calling it these days).
Posted by: Gary | Monday, July 16, 2007 at 13:09
Hell yeah, I was all over that crazy Aquinnah.
Posted by: messiestobjects | Monday, July 16, 2007 at 13:38
I'm a fan of vacationing in places where there aren't any people. Fish might nip my bum when I'm in the water, but they don't rub up on their children in front of me. Or maybe they do...it's hard to tell.
Posted by: Miss Luongo | Monday, July 16, 2007 at 14:14
There really are places left where there aren't any people? I feel like if there are and I go there I'm ruining it.
Posted by: Gary | Monday, July 16, 2007 at 14:37
Fish just eat their young, rather than scar them for life.
I had to take a personality test for a workshop they gave us at work last weekend. It was the DISC personality test, which I gather is more business/sales oriented than the Myers-Briggs. Anyway, it was kind of silly, and all it really accomplished for me was to out the fact that I hate people to my co-workers.
And then at the party afterwards, they gave me the "Most Likely To Be Found At A Star Trek Convention" award, which is total crap because I like Buffy, not Star Trek. They don't know me at all.
Posted by: messiestobjects | Monday, July 16, 2007 at 14:45
Oh totally, Gary. I agree. There are some places where people just don't belong, including me. The key for the traveler who hates people is to find a place with fewer people. It's difficult, but worth it. Either that, or never leave the house. There are good arguments for both.
Posted by: messiestobjects | Monday, July 16, 2007 at 14:47
I recently read this rule: If a place is truly beautiful, you can't afford to be there.
I think there's probably some truth to that.
Posted by: Gary | Monday, July 16, 2007 at 15:08
I don't think that is what it is like to be a democrat since they mostly voted in favor of initiating the war in the first place. It's just politically expedient for them to be all antiwar now - which could make them worse than republicans. Since they're all the same animal though it doesn't really fucking matter.
Posted by: Christy | Monday, July 16, 2007 at 15:23
Subtext, Christy, subtext! It's all about the subtext. Screw the Democrats, anyway.
Gary, so far from what I've seen, that's really only true in the US and in Parts of Europe. Angkor Wat was indescribably awesome, and it was cheap. Of course, it does cost a lot to get there in the first place.
Posted by: messiestobjects | Monday, July 16, 2007 at 15:29
By the way, the rest of my Martha's Vineyard pictures are up here.
Posted by: messiestobjects | Monday, July 16, 2007 at 15:32
I know that's not what it was about - I just think you could have used a better example.
Posted by: Christy | Monday, July 16, 2007 at 15:36
Well, whatever. My mind wasn't really on politics. Besides, if you don't root for the Democrats, there's really no one left to root for.
Now, that's depressing.
Posted by: messiestobjects | Monday, July 16, 2007 at 16:26
The photos are super.
I'm always the "insanely wrong party." My shrink calls it scapegoating.
Posted by: Sissy | Monday, July 16, 2007 at 18:13
That is so gay. I don't even have shrink. I don't think I should post comments on an empty stomach.
Posted by: Sissy | Monday, July 16, 2007 at 18:24
Thanks! I miss taking pictures of things like Angkor Wat or the Pyramids, but I'm finally discovering that there are places in the US worth visiting & shooting too, and so that's nice.
I'm often in the insanely wrong party, no doubt. If it's brought to my attention that I'm acting crazy and I see it to be true, I'm pretty good at swallowing my pride and admitting it. Usually.
Posted by: messiestobjects | Monday, July 16, 2007 at 18:36
Aha! Scapegoating the non-existent shrink! That's a new one, I think.
Posted by: messiestobjects | Monday, July 16, 2007 at 18:37
What the fuck is wrong with me????????? I truly have no idea where in the hell that came from. It was as if I had stepped out of my body just long enough for my fingers to write the most rediculous thing they could come up with.
The sad thing is, that I'm REALLY trying hard not to sound like an idiot anymore. Maybe that's what the problem is. Bad nerves are taking a bad situation and making it worse.
What about splunking? Have you ever been splunking in PA?
Posted by: Sissy | Monday, July 16, 2007 at 19:33
No... I did some light spelunking in a cave in upstate New York at camp when I was young though.
Nothing is wrong, by the way, with making up small details from time to time about your own life for the benefit of a better story. There are worse things than telling people that you see a shrink. I'm considering Jungian psychotherapy, myself.
Posted by: messiestobjects | Monday, July 16, 2007 at 19:50
Yeah, after spending two days reading about mediation on Julie's blog and having zero to add to the subject, I'm thinking that some meditation may be in order for me.
I used to be an avid spelunker (correct spelling! LOL!). There's a cave near State College, PA called J-4. Oh, the stories I have about that place. At the time, almost 20 years ago, all I had was one of those disk cameras. I tried to take pics, but nothing came out right. Also, no pictures can do justice to a cave that you must climb a 50-foot rock ledge (harness and all) just to get to the opening which was just big enough for me to crawl through in the shape of an egg. I actually had friends who couldn't go because they were too big to get inside.
Psychotherapy frightens me. I don't want to know THAT much about myself.
Posted by: Sissy | Monday, July 16, 2007 at 20:13
Spelunking terrifies me. Just the thought of going into a hole just big enough to fit into makes me feel panicky. My lips feel numb now.
Posted by: Miss Luongo | Monday, July 16, 2007 at 22:38
"Numb lips"
LOL!!!!
Posted by: Sissy | Monday, July 16, 2007 at 22:56
It's a "What About Bob" reference. Love that movie, despite the ridicule I get for liking it.
Posted by: Miss Luongo | Tuesday, July 17, 2007 at 13:05