We’ve talked about early voting

Post #444,679 by rcareaga 8/22/24 10:55:42 AM 8/22/24 10:55:42 AM Reply	We’ve talked about early voting Mail-in ballots won’t be distributed for another six weeks and change, and no one seems to think she can hold out that long. Then again, in mid-2022 they were telling us that she had four to six months remaining to her. Although as a teenager she possessed a set of ethics inferior to those of the average newborn wolf pup (she has been known to grin recounting her sundry shoplifting strategies), these have become considerably more refined in her later years, and particularly since she became an officer of the court three decades ago, so she probably wouldn’t countenance what you suggest, nor would I be inclined to go behind her back (or her coffin) to this end. And this is California, after all, where outside of the sparsely populated Ungovernable Tribal Counties the coming contest is likely to be a blowout for Team Blue. I will confess (lowering voice to a whisper) that were we residents of one of those knife-edge “battleground states” I wouldn’t necessarily rule out a spot of antifascist fraud, but there’s this practical obstacle in that over the years my fine motor control has so eroded that I can no longer sign my own name legibly, and could never mimic hers, which is required on the ballot envelope. cordially,
Post #444,682 by crazy 8/22/24 1:53:36 PM 8/22/24 1:53:36 PM Reply	Yeah, it doesn't matter in your state I had many years of living in the communistic state of NJ, that's according to my wife who grew up in Philly, and I didn't really have to worry too much about a certain blue win at the electoral level. Sure. We swapped governors occasionally but they were middle of the ground for the most part, and all very smart. I spent 35 years as an adult in Jersey. Paying attention. Even though I didn't like Christy, I respected him and he argued very well. Until he became Trump's lap dog at least. Then I went to purple Colorado. Moving blue but not there yet. And every single vote was important. My neighbor's three doors down at the apartment complex grilled me on my politics when I said I'm finally allowed to vote, having finished my felony illegal commitments. I knew enough to say that I'm open to anything because if I had said I'm voting blue, they'd be plotting to kill me. That was a constant overwhelming feeling in that state from the political perspective. The locals who are mostly right are being pushed out by the Invaders who are mostly left and they hate them. Now I'm in Washington state. From a total state perspective I'm pretty safe but at any given moment a local committee who is in charge of the township can be taken over by q Anon crazies if we don't pay attention.
Post #444,683 by crazy 8/22/24 2:00:44 PM 8/22/24 2:00:44 PM Reply	Oh, I said promise. I didn't say do it. You can promise the dying anything to make them happier. Anything. Lie your ass off if it is in the direction of their happiness. Do not take it as a true commitment. This is not an intrinsic perspective. I spent many hours with my father dying and being honest. I would never lie at that moment. I realized that was a mistake. There were occasional moments where he had realizations that he didn't need. M is a geriatric nurse. She interacts with dying people every day of her career. Some have just got the news and others are actively on the way out and she takes care of all them as they go further and further away into their minds. And she lies all day. She is incredible at it. She will spin stories for these people of how their family were just there and they'll be there tomorrow. And because these people have lost their short-term memory, they are calm and happy as opposed to crying. Where are my loved ones! Never tell a husband that his wife is dead or vice versa. They go through grief every time. The list goes on and on. Do not cause emotional pain, lying is perfectly okay here. So yes, she is perfectly coherent now. Of course you won't lie to her. But you might sometime in the future, and it's okay.
Post #444,687 by CRConrad 8/23/24 4:42:15 AM 8/23/24 4:42:15 AM Reply	Re: shoplifting strategies -- I too could grin, at how simple a ruse seems to suffice to get away... ...with the most outrageous(ly stupid) shit. Heck, I'm fairly sure the statute of limitations has run out, so here goes: At ~11-12, I was part of the Mob, the Mafia. Well, of our local gang of fourth- to sixth-grade habitual shoplifters, that is. (I think I'd had an earlier bout of the same, at ~6-8, but that was strictly solo. Didn't live in the same village then.) Most of the group were in it strictly for the candy (as had I been, in my larval phase), but I branched out to Bigger Stuff after a while... Which would become my downfall. But, about those strategies. I think I can recall two, one just a slight refinement of the other, which worked surprisingly well for a surprisingly long time. I remember thinking "Damn, those adults who work at the store must really be rather stupid." 1: Shove something down a pocket, or the front of the waistband of your trousers. Never mind that it visibly sticks out. Then walk around a bit, and transfer it to the back of the waistband of your trousers, and make sure to pull down your sweater or shirt over it. 2: Do one or both of the above, then make a quick detour somewhere you're sure you won't be seen -- like around the end of the aisles furthest from the tills, where vigilant cashier Daga (Mom to two of my kid sisters' best friends) was looking ever more suspiciously -- and quickly transfer the loot to your boot (or sock, if wearing sneakers). Make sure to pull down your trouser leg over it. As I'm sure you've figured out, this must have been before even the idea of high-mounted mirrors had made its way to rural Swedish supermarkets, not to talk about sci-fi stuff like CCTV. Come to think of it, I may have misspoken above: Most of the gang (which consisted mainly of girls, as I recall it; that may have been a rather large part of why I was in it) were perhaps in it not just for the candy, but for the bragging rights, the feeling of having outwitted The Man. I don't know if it was to get bigger shots of this that I went on from candy (and the occasional superhero comic?) to "Bigger Stuff"; I suppose I like to imagine it being my superior intellectualism and culture: I went on to books. Well, to cheap paperback novels, that is -- that's what rural Swedish supermarkets of the day carried (and still carry, AFAICT). And that's how I was confronted by the Notoriously Strict, imposingly middle-aged and bearded, shop manager: With a copy of John Carter och gudarna på Mars (the one with a big white four-armed gorilla towering over the eponymic hero against a dark blue background; the sky, I assume) tucked into my jeans, on my not-yet-fat-enough-to-let-it-disappear-into-the-folds-of-flesh belly and under a flimsy T-shirt that may or may not have been outgrown to the extent of not quite wanting to stay tucked-in. Momentary insanity, utter hubris, or a more-or-less-subconscious wish to get caught? Idunno, time may be gilding my memory, but I'm leaning towards the latter. And it didn't get better from the shop in question -- the same one where Daga worked; not the only one in town, but one of two -- being the local Co-op. So I wasn't even sticking it to The Man, that Evil Capitalist, but taking the bread out of the mouth of my Fellow Proletarians. Sigh... -- Christian R. Conrad The Man Who Apparently Still Knows Fucking Everything Mail: Same username as at the top left of this post, at iki.fi
Post #444,689 by crazy 8/23/24 1:10:18 PM 8/23/24 1:21:31 PM Reply	And now it all comes crashing back I was caught twice. Age 12 and 13. Once in Woolworths in the Cherry Hill Mall. Interesting that 4 years later I was manning their grill at as a short order cook in their restaurant. My mom came and picked me up and she had a discussion with my father. They were recently separated. Of course it was all their fault. So what did they do? Nothing. A few months later I was at the Echelon Mall and I simply wanted to buy some cigarettes at the CVS. Of course they were not selling them to me that day since I was 13. They did occasionally. So I was pissed and I grabbed some candy on the way out. Store security grabbed me a few stores later. Marched me back and had me empty my pockets and that's where they found the half ounce of rainbow weed. It was so pretty and so sweet. So they called the real police and transferred me to the police station. I was with a friend at the time. I called my mom and he called my dad and they met at the police station. I'm pretty sure that my dad paid off the cops. Not 100%. It could have just been a friendly conversation. But the bottom line is everything disappeared. And then they took me back to my dad's house and sat me down and gave me a lecture. About getting caught. And the long-term ramifications. And raised my allowance so I wouldn't be tempted to do stupid shit like that again. Just buy the damn candy. This is stupid. Obviously the behavior has nothing to do with the money. I had money in my pocket both times that could easily pay for whatever I was stealing many times over. I got $5 weekly for allowance in 1976. That's worth $27 today. And that was for straight consumption. If I wanted to go to the movies or the roller skating rink or whatever my dad would pay for it along with extra pocket money. And then they raised my allowance to $20, which equals $110 today. If I wanted anything that cost more than what my allowance could buy I could almost always get it. Maybe not immediately, but I was rarely disappointed. I was obviously stealing for the fun until the ramifications outweighed the fun. Edited by crazy Aug. 23, 2024, 01:21:31 PM EDT Expand All History

Welcome to IWETHEY!