Wednesday, December 31, 2008

The $300,000 BLT

Ah, but I only gave it a brief mention yesterday as I had completely forgotten that we're wrapping up The Year of the Inane. No, that's not a new Chinese Zodiac creature (The Inane - Similar to a macaw, but with more distinct features around its nether regions). Silly. Pointless. Unsubstantial. Shall I use it in a sentence? "This blog can be inane." Yes, I thought that might clear things up. Now to clear up what the heck I'm talking about, as how else would one cap off The Year of the Inane but with hundreds of thousands of dollars being shelled out to an unmarried, teenage couple, both of whom have not finished high school and who just had a child out of wedlock. (This story really is ridiculous, but I'll admit to playing it up a bit with the whole "out of wedlock" terminology there. I am not a fan of that phrase. First of all, it sounds a bit too much like "headlock", which you could end up with should you not choose wisely. But really, where/when else is it ever used? I've never said, "I'm going to see my two friends get joined in wedlock." Or "They've been in wedlock for about five years now." No, the word we use is married. Unless, apparently, you're knocked up. That's when you can your oven full of a bun are more than just "not married', you're "out of wedlock". As if you don't have enough problems as it is, being an expectant single mother and all, now you have to worry about the semantics of vocabulary to boot!)

But why, you ask? Why, oh, why is someone or something or some magazine shelling out hundreds of thousands of dollars to unmarried, under-educated, premarital fornicators? (Oh, my mistake. Unmarried, under-educated, premarital fornicators in love. There. Is that better for all of you optimists? Oh, wait, optimists don't read this blog. Cynics and realists do. Well, at least eight of 'em do. Carry on!) Because this isn't your average, ordinary, run-of-the-mill teenage girl that got preggo. This preggo is the daughter of the hot, hot governor of Alaska who was once trying to become the hot, hot Vice-President of the US as the running mate of old, old John McCain. I, of course, am speaking of hot, hot Sarah Palin and her daughter, Bristol, who would be one half of the fornicating duo of Bristol and Levi. Levi being Levi Johnston, the son of Sherry Johnston, the official OxyContin dealer for the state of Alaska.

Word on the street (that is, if "street" = "Internet"), is that a certain celebrity news magazine (whose name I won't reveal just yet, but I will throw a teaser out there and say that the name of the magazine rhymes with "Sheeple". Chew on that for a while!) is shelling out (brace yourself) $300,000 for the baby photos of little Tripp Easton Mitchell Johnston. (So in addition to Bristol and Levi, they now have Tripp and if you take the first initial from each name, you have BLT. I don't know what it means, but I'm sure it's provocative. And if it's not, well, at least I got to screw around with Photoshop for a while before I figured that out.) And I think that I can speak for all eight of you reading this right now when I say, "WTF?!"

According to The Scoop over there at, "...bidding for the baby photos began at $100,000. People Sheeple won out in the end, but In Touch was the only other weekly to make serious bids." (I only had one question after reading that. What the heck is "In Touch"? Sounds like a weekly circular for pedophiles.) They added that "...most estimates hover around the $300,000 range (none of the magazines would confirm the exact figure in the end, which is standard)." OK, so it's "standard" for the magazines to not confirm how large the ridiculous sum of money is that they are paying for pictures of a baby that probably looks like most other babies, because why now? Do the magazines think it will "look bad" if the public finds out that they're bidding, of all things, bidding on someone's baby pictures? It might. But if that's the case, I doubt that it would look as bad once the baby pictures appear on the cover of the magazine! (I can't be the only one seeing the irony in a magazine whose theme is providing every possible personal detail about anyone that they think the public might be interested in, yet they have "standards" and won't say how much they're paying for something.

Why so much? According to "an editor" (I guess they don't reveal names either), "The bidding started well before the baby was born, but once Levi’s mom was arrested — well, then you had a story.” HOW??? Just because the "Hillbilly Heroin" dealer got busted, the magazines assume that the public is once again interested in something that we weren't all that interested in to begin with? I don't see how the one connects with the other one and I certainly don't see how it connects to the tune of $300K.

And just to make the story really inane, they threw in this: "No word on whether the money will go to charity, as sometimes happens in a celeb baby deal." :::: sigh :::: I'll give you the word on that one. No. No, the money will NOT go to charity. Why not? Well, first of all, Bristol and Levi are eighteen. Eighteen year olds who just became parents (one of whom dropped out of high school to take a job on the North Slope oil fields as an apprentice electrician) do not donate $300K to charity. But the even bigger reason? THEY'RE NOT CELEBRITIES!! They're the daughter and possible future son-in-law of the governor of Alaska. That's all! So why it would be expected, "as sometimes happens in a celeb baby deal" that it would happen in this instance is beyond me. It's like saying, "No word on whether or not the new kitchen sponge that was purchased actually talks, as sometimes happens in a cartoon called 'Spongebob Squarepants.' " It doesn't talk because the sponge isn't Spongebob! It's just a sponge!

You know, this really isn't doing much for everything that we're supposed to tell kids not to do with their lives. They're not supposed to drop out of high school. They're not supposed to have sex. They're not supposed to get pregnant. They're not supposed to have a baby without being married. They're not supposed to have a mother who deals drugs. And the list goes on. But in this case, you have all of those things and what are the consequences? You get $300k and a bunch of pictures of your kid in People freaking Magazine when you're eighteen, for cryin' out loud! So what have we really learned?! Do not pass 'GO'. (In this case, you can't pass 'GO'. Where are you going to go without a high school diploma whilst you're raising a child? Not far!) But DO collect $300,000!

Ugh. Even for $300 grand, it still wouldn't be worth it to me to play host to an alien being for nine months before forcibly expelling it out of my uterus in a process akin to that of shoving a pot roast through my nostril. Not even close to worth it.

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Tuesday, December 30, 2008

Coffee Isn't Coffee, But Dumb Is Still Dumb

Here's what we have: We have a large family in a rural area of this country. Five kids, all of different ages and all with "different' names. (I used to work with a woman who once told me that there are two ways to spell a person's name. There's the regular way and there's the welfare way. And so far, she's right (and she told me this at least 15 years ago, so that's a pretty strong basis right there). But back to my scenario. OK, family, rural, lots of kids that are named after buildings or seasons or trees or something else that you normally don't name your kid after. Now, to that mix we're going to add a knocked up teenage daughter and her high school dropout boyfriend (I refuse to use the term "baby daddy". Good Lord, people.). Oh, also a finger tattoo here and there. And, as if that wasn't enough, we're going to throw in the boyfriend's drug dealing mother who gets busted by the Feds. Sounds like a great episode of 'COPS' or something, doesn't it? Actually, it would probably make a great episode of 'COPS'. If only it wasn't the First Family of Alaska we were talking about here.

Enter the Alaska Governor Sarah Palin family! You remember Caribou Barbie, don't you? Vice-Presidential running mate of Grandpa Old Man John McCain? Hottest governor, coldest state? Her husband, Todd, the First Dude. Their children: Track, Bristol, Willow, Piper and Trig (named for their favorite math subject? I don't know.) Oh, those are just the first names! Apparently, it's Track Enfield, Trig Paxson Van (as in Van Palin. You know, because they're Van Halen fans. I swear.) and Piper Indy. No word on Bristol's or Willow's middle names, so nice job keeping those under wraps in today's media, ladies!

Now normally I'm not one for thrusting the children of a public figure into the spotlight, but when they're adult children they're kinda fair game. So, I might rip a little bit, but since that's not my main point, it won't be extensive ripping (for once). It's ol' Bristol (who turned 18 a couple of months ago and is now fair fodder for the blog) who allowed herself to get a little over romanced and subsequently pregnant by her boyfriend, self-proclaimed "effing redneck" Levi Johnston. Johnston summed himself up on his MySpace page (before the entire world would want to read it and he would realize that he needs to take it down) by stating, "I'm a f**kin' redneck who likes to snowboard and ride dirt bikes. But I live to play hockey. I like to go camping and hang out with the boys, do some fishing, shoot some sh*t and just f**kin' chillin' I guess. Ya f**k with me I'll kick ass." This potential 'COPS' episode keeps getting better and better, doesn't it?

(Side note: Apparently Bristol gave birth at 5:30am on Dec. 29 in Palmer, Alaska which, surprisingly, is not going to be the child's name. The baby boy was 7 lb. 4 oz. and was named Tripp Easton Mitchell Johnston. Yeah, they're in for a trip alright. Congrats, Bristol and Levi. Good luck.)

Where was I? Oh, right, the scenario. OK, enter the mother of Levi Johnston, a one Sherry Johnston. Sherry is the one that just brought all of the pieces of this puzzle together to form one incredibly large redneck tale of dim bulbs and half wits. Sherry (who will be Sarah Palin's in-law one day) was allegedly supplementing whatever income she had (if any) by dealing drugs. Oxycontin to be exact. Brilliant. Simply brilliant.

Your son's girlfriend's mother (why is this starting to sound like the scene in Ferris Bueller's Day Off when Ferris is sick and it's explained that "Um, he's sick. My best friend's sister's boyfriend's brother's girlfriend heard from this guy who knows this kid who's going with the girl who saw Ferris pass out at 31 Flavors last night. I guess it's pretty serious.") is running for Vice-President of the United States against a guy named Barack Obama and you decide that it would still be a good idea to continue to deal drugs out of your home. In Alaska. In small town Alaska! While the press is hovering outside your front door 24/7! Oh, sure. No problem there. What could possibly go wrong?

Well, IF Ms. Johnston had asked herself that very same question, she might have realized that plenty could go wrong. For instance, after a package containing several OxyContin pills was intercepted going to her house and having been mailed from....the...OxyContin....mall? (I don't know where this stuff comes from! Do I look like Amy Winehouse? The extent of my drug origination knowledge is that you grow pot because it's a plant, meth gets made in a bathtub and that's all I've got! I don't know where it comes from to start with.) Yeah, that's bad enough. But then when other people that are involved in your dastardly deeds end up getting busted, that's when you really have to worry because they will be offered a deal.

The "deal" that those who were busted during the package intercept procedure will be a lot different than the "deal" that Sherry Johnston was doing. Their "deal" involved them becoming informants in exchange for something else (usually lesser charges or just having the charges dropped altogether). There is no loyalty in Drug Land. None. If someone gets busted and they're asked to roll on someone else in exchange for keeping their own ass out of jail, they're on it! They will sing like a canary until someone tells them to shut up. And they often do. They did in this case.

So right in the middle of Palin-palooza, this Johnston woman initially had the right idea, though she had the wrong way of getting that message to the recipient. She decided it would be a good idea to text the following to one of her customers:“Hey, my phones are tapped and reporters and god knows who else is always following me and the family so no privacy. I will let u no when I can go for cof.” "Cof" is supposed to be short for "coffee" which is supposed to be code for "OxyContin". CoffeeContin. The thing with people who do drugs is this: They think they're being all smart, but they're really just on drugs! They're not smart at all! You can say "coffee" all you want, but if you mean "OxyContin", it's not going to matter that you said "coffee", you're still going to be in trouble! But drug people think that if they talk in their code that no one can crack that they'll just fly under everyone's radar. Little do they realize (and because why? Because they're high as can be, that is correct.) that they're so not flying under the radar. They don't realize that they've flown directly into the radar and that everyone else is watching everything they do. Brilliant they are. Brilliant.

Oh, but that wasn't her only text message that was intercepted by the do-gooders of law enforcement. She sent this one as well: “… there’s only so many times I can go for coffee a month. The rest of the time I need to have it at home!” Again, "coffee" = "OxyContin". And, again, "Sherry Johnston" = "not the brightest bulb on the tree". She knows that she's being watched and on top of that, she knows that her son's girlfriend's mother is running for Vice-Freaking-President and that there are people everywhere, giving her virtually NO privacy at all even if she wasn't dealing drugs! So she knows all of this and yet she decides it would be a good idea to continue on with business as usual. Sure! What could possibly go wrong? (Oh, wait. I already asked that didn't I? Was that before or after I mentioned that she was arrested? Before? I haven't got to that part yet? Oh, well, read on!)

She ended up selling OxyContin on three occasions that the informants participated in by wearing wires when they went to meet her. She received $800 for ten OxyContin pills. (TEN?!?! $800 for TEN?? My GOD, I have got to get some of that stuff! Holy cow, it must be phenomenal!) Oh, and they videotaped her making the transaction on one occasion as well. Can you say "She's effed"? Makes it hard to get out of things when you're on audio tape doing it and on video tape doing it. Seriously, what are you going to do? Pretend like you're eight and say, "Nuh-uh!! That's not me! Liar!" Yeah, that won't work so well when you're not eight. Hell, that won't work so well when you are eight.

She was arrested and charged with 5 or 6 felony counts of sale or possession of a controlled substance. Somehow, her bail was only $5,000 and she bailed out rather quickly and will return to court on Jan. 6. That's not a very high bail for 5 or 6 felony counts. What the heck is going on up there in Alaska anyway? Oh, that's right. Nothing. Never mind. Carry on.

Yep, if all of this wasn't Sarah Palin's family, you'd swear that this little tale took place down there in Flori-duh, wouldn't you? I would. Perhaps the Johnston family might want to consider relocating to be closer to the other members of their tribe.

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Monday, December 29, 2008

For That, I'll Skip Breakfast

I'm happy to announce that I'll be able to squeeze in one more "scientific study" before the year is over. Yipee! (Does the fact that I have "scientific study" in quotes give you any idea as to how scientific I deem it to be? Not very, that is correct.)

Perhaps the folks over there at Reuters actually found this "study" and it's "findings" to be newsworthy. Or maybe it was a slow news day. This is going to be one of the few, very few, times that I'm really hoping it was due to a slow news day. Otherwise, look forward to similar "studies" in the future with similar interpretations. (Translation: Crap.)

What we have from a government-backed Japanese medical researcher is that "Teens who skip breakfast as middle school students tend to have sex at an earlier age than those who start the day with a proper meal." Sooooooo.....yeah. We're blaming it on breakfast now? I've blamed having sex on a lot of things before. Alcohol, stupidity (usually induced by alcohol), loneliness (usually induced by alcohol), extreme horniness (usually induced by alcohol). So, basically, just alcohol. (OK, so my list isn't vast. It's a list!) But I've never blamed having sex on not having breakfast when I was in 8th grade. Or 7th. Or any grade, really. That's because it sounds ridiculous! (I prefer to blame having sex on things that make more sense. Like the alcohol reasoning. Now that's a sound excuse for just about anything right there.)

According to the study, "The average age of first-time sex for those who said they ate breakfast every day as a middle school student was 19.4, while for those who skipped breakfast, the average age was 17.5." Aw, this gets worse as I go along. 17.5?? Years old? Now they're blaming not having breakfast 4 to 5 years before someone managed to get someone else in the sack for all of the sack getting in the first place? Am I the only one who thinks they're stretching it just a tad here? I didn't think so.

"The fact that people can't eat breakfast may show something about their family environment," said a Japanese scientist who could not be any more vague with that statement. "Before blaming individuals for having sex at an early age, it may be necessary to look into the sort of homes they are from." Right. The sort of homes. OK. So, we're looking for what? Breakfast-less-ness? And lots of sex? (Alright, this is starting to get silly.)

I could see it maybe if they wanted to draw the conclusion that people were having sex for the first time at a younger age because they were doing that instead of having breakfast. I could buy that explanation. Barely. But I'd still buy it. (I'd skip a meal for sex. Hell, I'd fast on every day that ends in "y" for sex.) But this is saying that they're still not having sex until years after they've missed breakfast and quite frankly, if you're hanging onto this "not getting breakfast" thing for years, you should probably stop having sex and go find yourself a good therapist or a mental institution to check yourself into.

The survey "...also showed the average age of first-time sex was lower for those who found their mother annoying." Now there you go! That's some science I get fully back! Doing anything in spite of an annoying mother? SURE! I'm not saying that I believe people are thinking, "Man! I can't believe she grounded me for that! It was nothing! What a bitch! I'm going to show her! In a few years, I'm going to have sex! Just wait! You'll SEE!" No, that's not it. I'm just all for blaming mothers for anything. It's easier and believable in a lot of cases. (Disclaimer: There are a couple of exceptions to the blanket statement I just made about mothers. You guys know who you are. And one of them is not my mother.)
The scientist who, in the future, may be looking for different sources for research funds, said that, “Those unhappy with their parents — such as for not preparing breakfast — may tend to find a way to release their frustration by having sex." Again, I ask the question, "YEARS later?" You know what I do when I don't have breakfast prepared for me? I don't wait 4-5 years and then have sex with someone for the first time. No, I make my own damn breakfast!

Also noted was that, "If children don’t feel comfortable in their family environment, they tend to go out.” Go out...and....have sex? Well, yes! I don't know that the "family environment" is really the most "comfortable" place for anyone to be having sex! I'm glad they DO leave! I would hope that they would want to! And if they didn't, I sure as hell would ask them to!

If it wasn't for the delayed reaction time between not having breakfast and having sex for the first time, I might buy into the notion that there is something that is missing in the home environment that manifests itself without a morning Pop-Tart and leads to trampiness. But that 4-5 year window really isn't bolstering that theory very much. And actually, I'm a little surprised that they're complaining (if they are actually "complaining". It's kind of hard to tell what they're doing; other than just making stuff up) that the average age that someone first has sex over there is 17.5 years old. Seventeen and a half? I can't imagine that in the US it would be higher than that. (Have you seen how girls are dressing in the US? It's like the entire population of Whorevania exploded and made its way across the country.) Back to the survey questions, Japanese scientist guys! You have to come up with something else that you've derived from your data because this missing-breakfast-makes-you-have-sex-thing isn't quite cutting it. (Hey....does skipping breakfast make you have sex? If that's the case, I'm denouncing breakfast forever! Bring on the sex!)

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Sunday, December 28, 2008

The Minutiae That Is Obama

Good God. Barry isn't even President yet and I'm already SO over hearing about the minutiae of his everyday life. Not only that, could someone please explain to my why the press is acting like Hawaii is some sort of foreign country or far away land that those of us here in the contiguous 48 states have never been to nor heard of? It's bad enough the media thinks that the public in general has an IQ equal to that of a box of hair, but when they start dumbing down the already dumbed down? That's when I start to get a little cranky.

Currently, Barry and the fam are vacationing on Oahu. In case you're new here (and by "here" I mean "this planet"), Oahu is one of the Hawaiian islands. Hawaii (again, in case you're new) is one of the 50 United States of America. Yes! Even though it is all that way across the Pacific Ocean, it really IS one of the United States! Isn't that fas-cinating? The media would seem to think that it is.

Here is one of the photos that seem to be typical of the coverage of Barry in Hawaii. And here is one of the idiotic captions that also seem to be typical. It reads: "US President-elect Barack Obama, in black shirt, waves to a crowd of onlookers after playing golf at Mid Pacific Country Club in Kailua, Hawaii on December 24, 2008." Well, who in the hell else would Barack be in that photo? Any of the folks I've circled there? Probably not. I'm surprised they didn't caption the photo below with: "US President-elect Barack Obama, in White Sox cap, is seen on Wednesday. That's right. Wednesday."

In addition to stating the obvious in photo captions, the media seems to be bent on letting us know way too many details about what Barry is wearing. Well, they don't go as far as 'boxers or briefs', but I can see what the man is wearing. I don't need to read what the man is wearing. But the media seems to think I do need to read about it. " Obama was wearing a casual cream-colored shirt tucked into olive shorts, and sandals." Oh, well, thank God it was tucked in! For cryin' out loud. Frankly, looking at him, reading about him, it doesn't matter which one it is because I don't care what he's wearing. As long as everything that's supposed to be covered up is, I'm good with that. He could give the State of the Union Address wearing a towel and flip-flops for all I care. But if he did, all of the newscasts would be reporting that "President Barack Obama wore a Martha Stewart, olive green, extra fluffy bath sheet around his waist and navy blue flip-flops by Ocean Pacific to address the nation last night. The water he used to take his shower was composed of two parts hydrogen and one part oxygen. Back to you.")

One thing I have learned from the 24/7 Barry coverage is that when this man is finally sworn in as President, they have got to find that man a caddy. Look at this! Carrying six clubs in one hand? Does the man not have a golf bag? Where are the Secret Service guys? Shouldn't they be doing something about that? (I know their job is to protect him, but what if he trips and falls? He could impale himself and five bystanders with all of those clubs there. The Secret Service should be protecting him from himself!

Whilst in Hawaii, there was a power outage that effected the whole island of Oahu. Nearly all 293,000 residents were without power for about 11 hours, from 7 pm Friday to about 6 am on Saturday. Now, we've all lived through power outages, have we not? You'd think that a power outage was breaking news the way it was covered! "Transition officials would not say if generators had been installed, but an aide said no generators were used and the Obamas spent the evening in the dark." Huh. Funny. That's usually how most of my nights are the dark! When I sleep, it's dark as well! Quick! Stop the presses! It's dark when the Obamas sleep!

But really, the 'shave ice' coverage has got to go. First of all, look, I know it's Hawaii and I know it's hot there. (It's also rather humid.) But these people need to cut back on their "shave ice" consumption a bit. Every other photo I see is of Barry et al eating "shave ice". And maybe this wouldn't bug me so much if every media outlet felt the need to explain what a "shave ice" is with every damn photo of it. In case you've missed it, shave ice is "a local treat made from finely shaved ice and fruit syrup." Yeah, otherwise known over here on the mainland as a freaking Sno-Cone! (Say, instead of telling me what "shave ice" is, how about someone tell me what happened to the "d" at the end of "shaved"! Where did it go and why? When did "shaved ice" become "shave ice"? I did not get that memo.)

Seriously. Here's Barry with some shaved ice from the Koko Marina Shopping Center:

Here's Barry placing his shave ice order at Kokonuts Shave Ice and Snacks.

Here's Barry eating shave ice in August, 2008:

Here, you can see the shave ice actually being spooned into Barry's mouth!

Here's Barry with some green shave ice:

Do you see what I mean? It's ridiculous. (And it's also called a Sno-Cone!!)

This is only going to get worse if someone doesn't put the brakes on it now. When he's actually the President (instead of just doing a really good job of pretending he's the President) we're going to have to hear about every second of every day of every member of his family for the next four, possibly eight, years! From the time that he gets up in the morning (after spending the night sleeping in the dark) to what he has for breakfast, to what he feeds the dog. Oh! The dog! I forgot about the damn dog! There's going to be a dog in the White House and the media just loves a furry domesticated creature. Any kind of domesticated creature, just as long as it's furry as just as long as they can take pictures of the creature being cute with the other creatures; the children.

Maybe instead of all of the useless reporting, perhaps the media could use some of their investigative skills and find out what happened to that "d". Now that would be news I could use!

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Saturday, December 27, 2008

Missing: Toothless, Tattooed Toddler

It's a Christmas miracle! Well, not really. But that sounded a whole lot better than "It's Christmas time stupidity!" Since I know that the folks who are reading this aren't morons, here's a little tip for them to pass along to people that they know who are morons. We all know some. I'll even phrase it as if the moron is right in front of me. "Moron, sit down. Now, listen Moron, if you ever come up with an idea that involves deceit....what's that? What does 'deceit' mean? Oh, right. You're a moron. Sorry, I'll try to keep the vocabulary down. Moron, if you ever think of an idea that involves tricking other people and you think that you can pull it off because you're just soooo smart, please don't. Just don't. You might think you have a foolproof plan there, Moron, and no one will be able to crack your code. But see, you're a moron. So if you think you're smarter than everyone else, well, you think so not because you actually are smarter than everyone else, but because you're a moron. So just forget about all of the trickery and try something else. Something less tricky."

Enter Florida! Christmas time idiocy was in full swing on Christmas. According to CBS 4 in Miami, whose report on this story could be interpreted as its own form of idiocy as well, the parents of a six-month old child (who was last seen by them with his nanny on December 23rd) reported said child missing on the 24th of December. The woman, Meagan McCormick, said that she last saw her child, a one Riley Archer Buchness, on the 23rd when the child was being cared for by the nanny. The nanny, who had babysat for McCormick for several months and was deemed "responsible" by her, is a woman named Camille who, according to McCormick, "is about 20 to 30 years old with an unknown last name and speaks with a heavy French accent. She is a white, 5 feet 5 inches tall, 130 pounds, very long brown hair, brown eyes, and a gap between her teeth." Uh-huh. Oh, did I mention that she knew what street the "nanny" lived on, but had never been to her house? Yeah, that's what was said. Do you see where this is going? Maybe. Maybe not.

The child was described as being "...about a foot tall, white...wearing a white onesie with blue jeans. His hair is in a mohawk style, he has one tooth, and a fake tattoo on his left arm of an anchor." Uh-huh. He sounds kind of like a trailer park, midget version of Popeye. A foot tall? Twelve inches? That's IT?! How did this farce make the news in the first place?! The average length of a human when it's finally forcibly expelled out of the uterus of the female host is between 17 and 22 inches. This kid was supposed to be six months old and was a towering twelve inches? Why, yes! Of course he was! (By the way, is it just assumed that everyone, including myself, is going to know what in the hell a "onesie" is? Because I have no clue. None. If it's some sort of one piece outfit that babies wear, then tell me that! They don't have to go getting all "cutsie" on us and calling it a "onesie". After all, we're NOT the child. You can give it a more grown up (or common) name and we'll catch on!) If the picture that was circulated is any indication, he's also armless as well! Behold!

Now, so far we have a nanny without a last name, that lives on a street (that much has been determined) and "for months" has babysat this woman's six-month old, twelve inch tall, mohawk sporting, nearly toothless child with a fake anchor tattoo. Had the woman practiced this story out loud before she told it to the cops, she might, just might have heard how ridiculous it sounded and thought of something else. But she didn't. Fortunately, with a story that whack-a-doo, it didn't take long for the cops to figure out she was lying. I know! What a shocker!

So what was her motive? Well, fortunately (for once, it seems) she didn't kill the kid. That's because (wait for it......) there never was a kid. Correct. She made the whole thing up. Oh, she was pregnant at one time, but she miscarried. The problem was when she told her estranged boyfriend, who was living up in Boston, that she had the baby and all was fine in La La Land! Basically, they had broken up and he wanted the relationship to stay that way. She, on the other hand, didn't like that very much and figured that a baby would lure him back. What an ingenious plan! Once that he's back, then all you have to do is get yourself a baby! It's brilliant! Oh, wait. No it isn't. Where was she planning on getting a baby, you ask? Well her plan "....was to stall Buchness (he'd be the Dad) until she could adopt a little boy and pass him off as their son." Of course! The ol' adoption/fake-out/switcher-oo/ruse plan. I should have guessed!

McCormick "...went through great lengths to make her story believable, buying baby clothes and sending herself text messages from a second phone, pretending to be the kidnapping nanny." OK, look, there are a whole lot of different kinds of crazy out there and crazy over a failed relationship is just one of them. But when you start wandering over into the delusional world creating kind of crazy and then start dabbling in the inventing of small (very small) children and kidnapping caretakers, that's an entirely different kind of crazy. That's the kind of crazy that, even though I'm sure the guy is at least a little upset that this child that he thought was his for the last six months never existed, the guy should be relieved that he actually did NOT make another human being with this woman. Please don't be mad, sir. Just be relieved that, for now, the chain of crazy stops.

She's been arrested on a misdemeanor charge of filing a false police report and is being held at the Miami-Dade County Jail. One could hope that she is getting a bit of psychiatric help, but I'm going to guess that she is not. I'm going to guess that she's just sitting there in her cell and that's unfortunate. Although she said that her plan was to adopt a kid before anyone caught on to her scheme, let's think about what she would have done if she couldn't adopt a kid. I can't see that stealing someone else's child would be out of the realm of possibilities for this woman. Whenever she goes before a judge, if the judge has any sense and can see this for what it is, there will be some sort of psychiatric intervention as part of her sentence. Screw any fine and instead have her pay for all of the manpower that was spent on freaking Christmas Eve and Christmas Day looking for a child that never existed.

Yeah, this could have ended a whole lot worse than it did. Hopefully, with appropriate intervention, it won't get worse and there won't be a "next time". But unfortunately, this happened in Florida, so I'm not holding my breath.

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