IFAW Epic Fail: The Tiger Debate

Once upon a time in a land far, far away I foolishly thought I’d finally found that special dot.org which not only shared my love for the world’s helpless creatures but might also be backed by some common sense. After all, I’d never heard of IFAW (International Fund For Animal Welfare) provoking blind followers to throw paint or animal guts on people wearing fur…

Or to make love to vegetables…


There’s a cucumber joke here, I just can’t see it…


Once upon a time I also thought one voice could make a difference in a room full of dummies. Then I watched ten minutes of C-SPAN…

Once upon a time I also thought one voice could make a difference in a party full of dummies. Then I heard Nancy Pelosi speak and thought, Yeah…


After signing up for IFAW’s emails and reading them every blue moon it became clear I was very wrong. But I found them so amusing I couldn’t bring myself to unsubscribe. So now I take a few minutes to share the gist of an outrageous one I got a week ago that I actually read.

Subject (direct quote): Tell ABC and the Chinese Embassy to say “NO!” to eating tigers


Omigods! WTF is this about?


Body (summed up with their words but not direct quotes): ABC is irresponsible and crazy… John Stossel is dangerous… He said we should eat tigers… Express your outrage… Email 20/20 and the Chinese Embassy. Get these tiger farms shut down…


Time for a reality check!

A minute with google and I found John Stossel and Jeff Diamond's story which just happens to make perfect sense, and pretty much proves IFAW is an organization run by monkeys gone bananas for people who can’t think for themselves. Oh but they DO have a cute man helper, don’t they?


Work of art or 5 yrs without shaving?


So it turns out (and anybody who watched 20/20 on May 8th already knows this) John Stossel isn’t going to demand a tiger burger at Fuddrucker’s anytime soon. His whole point was if the Chinese were allowed to own tigers and raise them in captivity the chances are very good, perhaps better, they’d survive in the long run. And if the Chinese people just happen to like eating tiger, why shouldn't they be able to get it legally? It's not like they could smoke them... well, actually...

After all, buffalo ranches out West saved those juicy beasts from extinction. And yes, they are delicious.

King Interviews REO Speedwagon, Styx & 38 Special

The King is totally psyched! Our line-up is mind-blowing. Tonight’s guests are fantastically incredible performers. REO Speedwagon and Styx have taken a break from their ‘Can’t Stop Rocking’ tour. I guess they’ve stopped rocking just for me. Also, a special appearance by .38 Special… I can finally go to my giant head and retrieve some questions I’ve been sitting on for years, which hasn’t been easy. I must say, as relieved as I am to have my ass back where it belongs I will miss the familiarity of a certain smell.

First let’s bring out a group who is very near and dear to my heart. With like… 1,005 monster radio hits and such classics as Flash Tan Queen, Little Queenie and Keep Pushin’… This band needs no introduction. REO Speedwagon, come out!

What the… Sorry folks. They’re not here. Wait… What’s that? Okay! They’re out in the parking lot and we’re going live right now!




Da-dum da-dum, da-dah! I finally got on with the King! ‘Cause I can’t fight this feeling anymore. Yeah.

The King is not amused! How did you get out of the garage? I thought it was locked…



I’m your genuine REO Speedwagon! Isn’t that what you wanted? C’mon now. Roll with the changes.



Looks like I’m riding the storm out. But… It’s a short one! So if you don’t take it on the run, baby… ‘Cause that’s the way I want it, baby… That’s right! You’re going straight to the auction block.



Awww, why you gotta be like that honey? Fine. Have it your way. It’s time for me to fly.



Damn straight. Get yo ass back home girlfriend! Now let’s get Styx in here and try to forget the last few minutes. Please, just try to forget.




Hey! We’re so happy to be here! We are Styx!



Nooooo, you’re not. You are definitely not Styx.



We nine glow sticks represent the current and former members of the most awesome and wonderful band Styx!



That is sooooo not right. Listen up chumps, that would make ten members altogether. Not nine! Ten!



Well, the Dennis DeYoung glow stick couldn’t make it. He’s in another world right now. A fabulous world filled with bright, hot lights… The briskly tantalizing and glorious sounds of giant synthesizers making sweet, sweet love. Did you know when synthesizers climax…



Where the F*** is he?



… We sticks are reborn and glow another five minutes. Geez… He’s at a Styx concert. Duh!



As long as you’re here and obviously fans, let me ask one thing before I throw you at the mercy of the kidlets. Back in 1997, a cult known as Heaven’s Gate poisoned themselves to join what they believed were aliens traveling in the wake of a comet. Some say your missing glow stick predicted this event with the song Come Sail Away. Dennis DeYoung… Prophet, or trippin’ hardcore nuts on the acid?



Holy fluorescents! What kind of question is that? It’s just screaming insane asylum…



And that’s where you’re going right now. Bye! Have fun with the kiddies! And I assure you they will never, ever be coming back. Why is this happening to the King? I have a face my mommy loves! And now I’m horribly afraid to call out our last guests. But I kind of, must… And why not shovel more worm poo on this rotting corpse of a show? So without further delaying my inevitable doom, .38 Special?




No need to be frightened, King! I’m just a sexy little thing looking for a place to rest my butt for a spell. See how good I look on your pillow? Keep me under here long enough for the brats to make a discovery and play a super-fun game called Wild West. I can’t wait until I’m in the hands of the lucky bastard playing Cowboy!



Well, anything is better than those phony Styx. What do I need to know? Could you make the King even more horrifying to women, children, hairless men and small animals? Would you be easy for the King to handle?



It’s really simple! Just hold on loosely, but don’t let go. If you cling too tightly, you’re gonna lose control.



Where the F*** were you on 9/11?

These are the scariest times

I’m focusing on the first frightening day of these scary times I’ve found myself thrown into recently. At this very moment you are reading the blog of a mom who now has her first teen driver. If that doesn’t send shivers up and down your spine, well, maybe you are laughing. Or maybe you’re one of the apathetic ones. I try but I just don’t understand.

So this is how it all began. Well, after my son decided he wanted to get a learner's permit. I gathered up the required documents and drove 75 miles to pick up my son (who was at his dad’s house) and take him to the nearest DMV. When I got there his dad insisted on driving us. Like me he had taken the day off from work, but his attitude toward the whole thing was quite the opposite. Apparently he is one of those parents the DMV pamphlet was speaking to who is eager about this “exciting time” and happy to assist in the 1½ year journey our son has embarked upon in acquiring a real driver’s license. I would describe my feelings as anxious, nervous, and downright fearful. As for the length of time it will take altogether - they made the rules stricter a few years ago. Anyway, I was only asked to show up for this event because I had the kid’s birth certificate and Social Security card. I hate it when I’m so desperately needed - and it only gets worse. In order for our son to move to the next level (a restricted license) I have to sit beside him while he drives a total of 50 hours in the next six months.

50 hours. 50 hours, which must be logged in a little booklet. I can think of much better ways to die than as a passenger in my own vehicle. Losing a “Wild West” style shoot-out would be less humiliating. And I could probably find some one crazy enough to do it.

I have good reason to be very afraid. Our son, who doesn’t yet have his own car but has driven a few times with dad (dad is a thrill seeker with no fear whatsoever), well our son let me know in advance he doesn’t plan on ever attempting to parallel park my Suburban. The big old beast scares the kid. So the thought of him driving it scares me.

When we got to the DMV we took a number, which was 26. They were serving number 16, which wouldn’t have been too bad, but the waiting area only had room to accommodate 8 and there were about 20 sweaty individuals crowded in there and out in the hallway. So we hung tightly to our number and drove to a fast food place. It was now afternoon but still technically the lunch rush. When we got back they were helping number 22. So we found a little shade outside under a tree, and by the time everyone was done eating they were on number 25. Great timing. Soon it was my son’s turn and we followed him to the counter. I handed over the docs and his dad insisted on paying, so he now has something to hold over our heads. Damn him.

We were anxious to see how our son would do on the test. Would he pass on his first try as expected? Perhaps he would fail, forcing us to leave with our heads hung in shame. Then it dawned on us that our son wears glasses. Well, he is supposed to wear them but never does because it isn’t cool, so we forgot he even had them. I just chalk it up as another downside to having kids because I really have no shame. Well, he attempted the eye test without them but couldn’t pass so his dad quickly devised a plan. Our son would take the written test and if he passed we’d head straight to my house from there, hopefully find his glasses he never wears, and maybe get back to the DMV in time so we wouldn’t have to take another unpaid day off from our jobs. Round trip it would be 130 miles. The way the kid’s dad drives I figured he could do it in record time. It’s amazing he doesn’t get more than one speeding ticket per year. The problem? I also had a plan. I had some shopping to do. I wanted him to drop me off at my vehicle so I could get that shit done while he and the kid were off taking care of business. That’s when we butted heads. No, we had to do it his way. There wasn’t any time to spare, according to him, so he refused to drive me the mere ten miles in the opposite direction to my truck. So it looked like I was doomed - stuck when I obviously wasn’t needed and could be getting other stuff done. Not only that, but the guy drives like a maniac when he isn’t in a hurry. Well, there was still a chance our son wouldn’t pass the test. We could always return another day some time within the next year, after all.

He had to miss six questions to fail. He got five wrong. Oh joy.

So off we went. Everyone was in high spirits but me. I sat in the back trying to be patient. I thought about making the trip miserable for the jerk. There were so many things I could be angry about. I could even go back fifteen years, but it wasn’t worth it. This was exactly what he was hoping for. But I did tense up when I felt us surpass 80 mph on the two lane highway. I miss the days when Montana had no speed limit. Back then, 80 was my limit. Soon I heard my son say, “Wow, Dad! 95!”

I peeked over the seat to see the car could easily do 110. Great. So what could I do? I went to my happy place.





Some day it could happen. He could get arrested, I tell myself. But until then I have to live life knowing my kids can’t tell the difference between Montana beef and the imported stuff. I hate you Ronald, and your easy beef.

So we made it back to the DMV in time, no one was hurt (yet), and our kid got his permit. Hopefully my fear of letting him drive within 75 miles of me will pass soon enough, but I have my doubts. The way I see it, if he’s nervous about driving a Suburban that his own mother can handle without any difficulty, then he really shouldn’t be driving at all. I try but I just don’t understand.