Sunday, September 21, 2014

~ The Stink Bug Saga

This time last year Nana was here for a visit.  The air was crisp, skies were a crystal blue persuasion (is there any possibility I have watched too much Breaking Bad?) and stink bugs were everywhere.  Now if you don't even know what a stink bug is and what I've described sounds bad?  You've got a pretty good grasp of the situation.  And find yourself in similar shoes to my 85 year old grandmother.  Frankly, those are likely to be Dansko or Chuck Taylor's so all in all?  That's not terrible.  But I digress.

Nana who resides a whole whoppin' 60 minutes away claimed to be completely unfamiliar with stink bugs. 

FYE (For Your Edification*): The Stink Bug Edition--

  • They look like what would be the offspring if a armadillo and fly had a baby, which is to say, ugly as fuck.
  • As their moniker implies said ugly ass bugs are stinky if squished. 
  • Stink bugs, nay, flyadillos appear late summer/early fall and spend every moment attempting to gain entry into your home.  Until?  Christmas.  Depending on when it falls maybe Hanukkah.  Ok.  I don't know for sure but they're still around after the first frosts of the season, which is bullshit.
  • They are awful.  And possibly a sign of the apocalypse.
  • If you don't know them, congratulations!  They are an uber invasive scurge and due to their utter craftiness they are all but impossible to keep at bay.  The armored flyin' bug has no known natural enemies to slow its geographical and/or numerical expansion and as of yet there's no keep stink bugs outta my crib ap for that.

Stink bugs are such a nuisance that they're trying to conduct a Stink Bug Census.  Obviously I realize a Stink Bug Census sounds like sumthin' fantastical I have concocted for our entertainment.  It is not.  It.  Is.  Real.  (

(* I typed FYI.  Then I wondered why it wasn't FYE in the first place?  Then I decided it was likely because FYE sounds super douchebaggery.  ...Which amused me, and was preeeeety much the nanosecond I decieded Imma try to work FYE into the mainstream vernacular by using it as often as possible.  hehehe.  [Please note:  This of course will never work.  Exhibit A: In 2011 I tried to bring LOLLy, twat and snatch to the masses   How'd that work out?  Have you used any of those in the past three years?  Yep.)

The arrival of (last) stink bug season conincided with Nana's visit.  The first day a recon stink bug appeared on the outside of the slider screen.  Then there were two.  Then there were 7.  And one made a breach entry.  Then there were 19 hangin' on the screen...  I mean, stink bug avoidance is a whole fuckin' thing, ya dig? 

All the while Nana contends that a few miles away they have zero stink bugs.  Which, of course, I find boggling, but Nana, obviously has no reason to lie to us about, ya know, a bug.

A few days later I returned Nana to her Nana nest.  As I opened my door and hopped out of my ride and I watched a stink bug who had hitched a ride in the door jamb fly away.   Needless to say this caused me to stop and double over in laughter.  Needless to say I'm kinda a horrible person.  Once I was able to construct a sentence I alerted Nana to what had just happened and stifled my giggles.  It sounded a lot like, 'oh, you don't have stink bugs?  ...Guess what?  You do now.  (cackle, cackle, cackle)'  Did I mention that I'm a horrible person...?

Yesterday a few hours after I had placed my daily Nana call my phone rang.  It was Nana. 

BBG:  Helloooooo
Nana:  Hello Miss. BBG (Nana, for reasons I do not know, calls me Miss BBG.)  Something just happened I thought you would want to know...
BBG:  (Silently waits, crossing fingers that, 'I just fell and broke my hip' isn't to follow)
Nana:  I was just in the kitchen, looked out the window and saw a stink bug hanging on the screen.
BBG:  (inexplicably and inappropriately exuberant laughter ensues)  You'rrrrrre welcome!

I feel both fulfilled, and fairly certain I'm goin' to hell.  Which now I'm guessing, is probably (?) filled with flyadillos.


Wednesday, September 17, 2014

~ My Latest Break Up. (Hint: He Was A Real Clown)

If I'm bein' honest one of my longest relationships has been with McDonald's.  We go waaaaaay back.  I remember the good times we had marking rites of passage like moving from the kids meal to a grown up burger.  I remember the day I got my drivers license winding up at the McDonald's on the main drag through town.   We saw each other through the natural changes and ups and downs a long term relationship brings, the McPizza, the hot side, hot/cold side, cold era, the Jimmy Hoffa-ing of the Hamburgler, Mayor McCheese and the Fry Guys.  ...I mean, they're dead, right?  I assumed it was a part of a bloody power grab staged by Ronald, no? 

And until recently I had never considered this thing we have (somebody watched Goodfellas last night...) in relationship-y terms.  In my mind it's always been a transactional/here's some money, fries me please experience.  But that was before LeBron James returned to the Cavilers this summer.  It was a big deal most places.  It was a big fucking deal here in Ohio.  In the midst of all of the hub 'n bub, which I didn't engage in primarily 'cause I legitimately didn't give a fuck about any aspect of the will he/won't he?/should he/shouldn't he saga a friend made comment that the situation struck him as;  

"Taking back the ----- who dumped you for someone else and then came crawling back after she realized how good she had it is nothing an entity with any self respect should be proud of. Cavs fans should seek counseling for that low self esteem issue."  ~ Brad Gray

...At the time I was conflicted between that's a little much and but, ya know he's right.  Which lasted all of 6.8 seconds before something shiny caught my eye or someone made a furtive movement and I started thinkin' about cotton candy.

That is until a several weeks ago... 

I had eaten something not enough to qualify as dinner (and I gotta be honest with ya, dinner is a super sketchy thing 'round BBG HQ and is routinely the meal of the day), that I found myself in the drive thru at McDonald's to augment the 3 pieces of bacon I'd had earlier in the eve with some fries.  ...Now McDonald's and I had been on the rocks for a while, if I'm bein' truth-y.  I don't want to assign blame, but there was a lot of lack of attention on McD's part.  Ronald stopped caring about the things I wanted, like a burger with just ketchup and cheese.  Looking back, with every diced onion and squirt of mustard I should have sensed that he had stopped giving a shit about my wants and desires.   I should have paid attention when he stopped making the effort to keep up his end of the bargain, like when he promised he'd always have a milkshake waiting for me when I wanted one.  And taking away my beloved McDonaldland cookies also should have tipped me off for his true regard for me.  The first few times I believed his excuses and trusted that he'd plan better/follow through next time.  He didn't.  I let it slide.  Hell, I came back for more.  ...Because, ya know, he'll change this is probably the time he'll treat me right.  As I foraged for fries (aka:  went to McDonald's) that night none of this had ever crossed my mind.

As I pulled to the speaker he said, 'heeeeeey, baby.  I'll be right with you'.  Cool.  Then several minutes later another car pulls up in the other order lane and Ronald proceeds to take their order first.  When Ronald returns his attention to me all I get is a terse, "I'll be with you in a minute."  (It had already been several minutes and he'd already swept me to the side to attend to another.) So now Ronald and I are having minor words.  My testiness intensifies as I wait for what seems like an eternity. 

By the time I reach the pay window Ronald and I have this conversation;

Ronald:  Medium fry and a medium iced tea no ice?  X dollars.
BBG:  Yes, but it's a High-C. (Which somewhat surprises me because the order screen read correctly, but whatevs.)
Ronald:  (kinda surly)  medium fry and a iced tea?
BBG:  (thinking specificity in my communication is the key here)  Orange High-C.
Ronald:  (strongly surly)  I'm sayin' High-C.  (Which is when I notice Ronald is missing several of the teeth necessary for accurate annunciation.  And when I also start thinkin', really Ronald?  You wanna try to put this blame on me?  What's more likely in this scenario?  You are hard to understand?  Or I'm just a dumbass who has trouble ordering because this is probably the first time I've ever seen these golden arches I've been hearin' about?) 

...So yeah.  I'm approaching the threshold of drama trauma I'm willing to allot to a fast food joint.  I mean, I was zero percent pissed off when I left BBG HQ.  And now if I had a brick I could pretty easily hit someone in the head.  Additionally, you know those time lapse videos of a dandelion sprouting up and blooming, and dying, and blowing the hell away?   Well that's playin' through my mind.  I check the clock to see if I'm being unreasonable.  (BBG Mid-Post Confession:  I spend, probably, an inordinate amount of time and energy trying to accurately assess if I am being unreasonable or not.  So the next time I say or do something unreasonable, kindly stop to imagine the bevvy of things I've already self censored myself over.  You're welcome.)  But my clock tells me I'm not.  It says I've been super fucking patient for sitting in a damn drive through line for 8 minutes and I haven't even reached the get 'yo food window. 

Of course when I reach the food-y disbursement window I am mocked with a big ass window sticker alerting me to the :30 second service guarantee during, of fucking course, hours other than when I'm actually there.

Ronald can only be bothered with caring about
my time when it's convenient for him.  Noted.
After 12 full minutes Ronald did me the solid of giving me my bag o' fries that had been sitting looking at me through a closed and unattended to window since I had pulled up.  And my drink.  My drink that had ice, which by this point I assumed if I mentioned would result in my incarceration .  And this:

Salt, lemme introduce you to wound.  Wound, Salt.  Salt, Wound.

It literally made me chuckle as I glanced at it driving away.

It was in that flash that my friends words popped in my head and I thought I wouldn't let a man treat me shitty for 5 minutes.  Why am I putting up with less than 'enough' outta this mother fuckin' clown?  And I knew we had to break up.  Yada-yada.  Straw.  Camel.  Back.

It's only been a few weeks.  Like with all break ups I like to concentrate on remembering all of the bad stuff.   Until I reach the point of no longer giving a shit, then I can remember good things.  And embracing the, they're dead to me philosophy I have cultivated over they years to great success.  Look.  I'm a realist.  Sometimes a girl needs an itch scratched.  I can't with any certainty vow that I'll never have a moment where mama just needs a bacon egg cheese biscuit.  But to quote the sage Taylor Swift, we are never getting back together.  Ever.  Fuck off, Ronald.  I hope you'll be happy without me the rest of your red fro'd/enormous shoe'd days. 

Update:  Six weeks Ronald McDonald free.  I hardly think about him at all.  When I do it's only to feel sorry for him. 

 (My ride 'n die homie since 1984)

I'll always have mad love for Grimace.

Related Link:  Buzzfeed 15 Ways You Justify Eating Fast Food


Monday, September 15, 2014

~ We Say We're Anti-Bullying (I Say We Have A Shitty Way Of Showing It)

I've always been an avid people watcher.  An amateur observer of what makes people tick.  This week, thanks to the NFL it's been an interesting week in my lil' personal game of Why People Do What They Do. 

By 'interesting' I mean, fucked up.

Early in the week I found myself mesmerized by the amount of defending a woman punch-er I watched go on, both online and in real life.  It's interesting (both interesting-interesting and fucked up-interesting) that for all of the talk we do of being anti-bully these days that so easily so many people choose to back a literal bully.   A 212 lb., who can bench press 405 lbs., professional athlete, bully.   

But that happened.

More perplexing than the number of guys who decided to be the, sometimes (always?) it's ok to punch a girl in the face, kinda guy, were the girls who decided to be the sometimes (always?) it's ok to punch a girl in the face, kinda girls. 

But that happened too.  And it looked like this:  Female Ravens Fans Defend Rice (Source: USA Today) 
“I’m supporting him all the way around.
I think he’s an awesome guy,
I think he’s an upstanding guy..." 
~ Some chick (USA Today article above)

Clearly, my criteria for the makin's of "an awesome/upstanding guy" does not include a guy with a propensity for battering women.  I can't help but wonder what makes people, but women in particular, in this instance, opt to back a guy when there is actual video proof of his fiancé at the time violent crime?

And don't get me wrong, everyone gets to take any side they want to.  Freewill, baby.  I mean, Charles Manson has supporters and fans.  But honestly?  What type of character is necessary to be the kind of person to back a woman beater?  Or a certain amount of child abuse? 

Yeah, that happened too. (Adrian Peterson [injury to a child arrest])

Now, look.  I'm not the soft on discipline sort.  ...How soft on discipline do you suspect a household run by two Police Officers (one former Marine) growing up was?  I was spanked.  Hell, I'm old enough that you could be spanked in school with a big ass paddle without a parents permission.  There are plenty of schools of thought on spank/don't spank, but those aren't even relevant in this situation.  I mean, whether you agree with it (corporal punishment) or not, when broken skin and scars are involved?  I think we can all agree we've passed the line between discipline and abuse, no?  

While no one has actually uttered, 'Heeeeey, everybody, I support child abuse!', there have been a lot of overtures of;  "well, I had to pick a switch and I'm just fine" sentiments of support and justification for his actions.  ...And again.  My mind is left boggled that people, when faced with a choice of siding with party in a clear aggressor/victim circumstance choose to side with the bully of the scenario.  Especially when the aggressor is a NFL Pro Bowl-er and the other party is a 4 year old.

You keep using that word, I don't think it means what you think it means - You keep using those words 'anti-bullying', I don't think it means what you think it means.

Communally we contend that we are staunchly anti-bullying.  clicks 'like' on the local anti-bullying Facebook initiative That a bigger, stronger, older, more advantaged shouldn't abuse (physically, emotionally, verbally) the smaller, weaker, younger, less advantaged.  That we'd never stand for that and wouldn't condone it.  pins on whatever color the anti-bullying ribbon is   For many, apparently, this means right until an opportunity presents itself to throw support to the bullied (domestic violence/child abuse affected) or to the bully (domestic violence/child abuse perpetrator), and the bully gets selected.   #HumanityFail

As much as I like to attempt to figure out why people do what they do I don't know what makes a person who stands up for bullies tick.  For that I am thankful.


Tuesday, August 5, 2014

~ I Like Those Titties

...Was exxxactly the reaction I was hoping for when I dressed myself today. (Disclaimer:  ...Now the other day because, I'm a shit blogger.)  So, thanks, three guys' sittin' in the car in the parking lot at Lowes. 

It was pretty awesome to be minding my own fuckin' business running benign errands like buying screen to re-screen my slider and to be put in a position where my choices were to stride over to you and start slappin' every one of your guffawin' faces (which, P.S.  your Mom, sister, wife or daughter would have totally sanctioned upon discovering your behavior towards some random ass DIY capable chick) or ignoring your crass ass comment. 

Today I chose the latter.  You may be wont to believe that I chose that course of action because;  A) It wasn't any big deal.  2)  It was just a joke.  Or III)  It was a no harm/no foul situation.  ...Or any of the other completely bullshit reasons one uses to justify being a, well, I'd say dick, but that would be doin' a disservice to dicks.   It wasn't.  It was because there were three of you and I knew I couldn't take ya all when things inevitably got contentious.  So, congratulations.   You used your time here on earth today to be an asshole to some skirt who had the audacity to need to leave her house to buy something, and have boobs. 

Now these were grown ass men.  Forties?  50's?  Old enough to know that, "I like those titties" (replete with laughter) is lame, rude and as I mentioned earlier, asshole-y.  I've always found it vexing how guys, especially ones old enough to, ya know, know better (otherwise known as: older than 5) and those with daughters (/mothers/sisters/grandmothers/wife/et al*) somehow delude themselves into thinking speaking/treating someone else's daughter in a "I like those titties" way is acceptable and appropriate. 

In fact, if I were a bettin' chick I'd wager tens of dollars that if any one of those guys heard some other guy(s), "I like those titties"-ing their wife/daughter/sister/etc., as she participated in mundane tasks-- like, getting out of her car,  it'd be ass kickin' time.   

Today it wasn't. 

But only because I displayed a judicial use of good judgment.  Not because it wouldn't have been an appropriate reaction.  As I told one of my besties, AnonD, "it wasn't a, I had to fight 3 men situation."  In the moment nobody on the face of this earth wanted to fight 3 men more than me. 

Which for those keeping score cards is when and where the line is crossed between a dumbass comment that one may find offensive, and one that no fuckin' bones about it is offensive.  

Pro Tip: 
If a woman's reaction to your 'flattering' comment is
contemplating committing a violent act on you? 
Consider your approach a fail. 

Yep.  Always...  WTF, guys?

Obviously, "I like those tittles" isn't the biggest problem in the world.  Hell, it's not even the biggest problem of my day...  The point is that considering the possibility of fisticuffs with several dudes, due to that kind of 'everyday' type of comment as the result of pointing out that what they've just done/said is fucked up, shouldn't be a normal part of a (any) skirt's day.  ...And look.  I'm a big chick.  I'm average man height.  I'm not one who tends towards being intimidated, or feeling vulnerable to a guy simply because he's a guy.  But imagine that if a grown ass girl who's cold cocked a Chicago Po-Po flat on his ass into some bushes feels intimidated and vulnerable, what your 13 year old daughter (who hasn't had a lifetime of similar experience to draw from), or 5'2" sister (who isn't in any position to, even if need be, tussle with a 6' 2" dude) must feel in similar situations?  And what her situational 'coping' tactics must be limited to when she knows that speaking up and calling straight up bullshit, bullshit, is never going to be seen as an opportunity to reassess how much of an asshole he/they're bein', and is always going to be taken as an invitation to escalate to a situation. 

I wish I were one of those quick with a comeback folks.  I'm not.  Which is why my options are narrowed to ignore/cause bodily damage (and go to jail).  I know violence isn't the answer.  Or so I am told.  But ignoring isn't the answer either.   Not for women, and honestly?  Not for men.  I loathe the term catcall--  it does a disservice to what's really at play here...  There's nothing kitty cute about a man/group of men making a chick feel like she's in potential peril (from either doing nothing, or doing something) because he/they happen to cotton to the looks of her lady parts.  "I like those tits" and all of the iterations most XX-ers reading this are all too familiar with, isn't a 'boys will be boys' thing. 

Boys Will Be Boys Things:
- Leaving toilet seat up
- Cultivating toe nails as weapons
- Nut tapping
- Fart amusement
- Differentiating Phillips and ...honestly I don't even fuckin' know, I just call 'em "Twosies" and "Foursies" screwdrivers
- Bets resulting in embarrassing tattoo pay-ups

It's a far less nebulous thing than boys bein' boys.  And it sure as shit isn't a display of how any man worth his salt comports himself.  It's verbal sexual intimidation. What it's not is flirting.  Or being complimentary.  It's being a USDA grade-A douchebag.  Regardless of how many Axe commercials ya've seen, douchebaggery is not a quality chicks are searchin' out.  For women, the it's bad for you/us is pretty obvious.  For men, sexual verbal intimidation of chicks is bad for all guys isn't as readily recognizable, generally, but in case ya hadn't noticed societies who treat their women poorly are shitholes.  Get a globe.  Fuck.  I'm so old.  ...At least I didn't suggest an encyclopedia (for you youngin's an encyclopedia is the paper version of what we used to look shit up before Ask Jeeves was born.)    ...  Do a lil' Googling on regions where women are treated (mostly-ish) with a sense of equality (aka: r-e-s-p-e-c-t) and you'll see places you'd (if you had to move to another country for 5 years) be ok with livin'.  Places where women aren't tend to rhyme with; La-molly-a  and Math-gan-a-stan.  Societies that don't treat their women well are places that aren't even good for men.  (I'm not saying women are better than men.  I'm saying men are better when/where women are shown the respect of decent treatment.  ...Ya know, like being able to run an errand without 3 leer-y guys verbally accostin' you over the existence of your hooters... )  ...Which I know, is big picture-ing, but on a macro level?  Do you really want the cute girl you're about to chat up to be fresh off a "I like those titties" incident as her last point of reference when a male stranger making contact was involved?  Is that good for your business?  No.  No, it's not.

Verbal Sexual Intimidation,
here's what you can do about it:
If you are guilty of "I like those titties"-ing someone --  Stop that shit.  Immediately.  Seriously.

If you know/have seen/are witnessing guys who "I like those titties" girls/women --  Tell them it's bush league bullshit.  Remind them how little they'd appreciate some dude yelling that at their mother. (aka: See sumthin' shitty, say sumthin' shitty.)

If you are looking for alternate ways to address obnoxious assholes insistant on alerting you to their enjoyment of your rack, check out these options:

This...   #YouOkSis 

...These passoutables;   (BBG Legal Notification:  I, BBG being of sound-ish mind do hereby call dibs on the invention of the word passoutables.  Copyright pending.)

...And (what I wish I'd have been quick enough to have retorted myself, and am definitely gonna remember for the inevitable next time)  "You sound like you have a small dick." 

And now, some P.S.'s...

P.S.  The * she's somebody's sister, mother, wife, 3rd cousin 2x removed reasoning for why a guy shouldn't "I like those tittes" girls is actual bullshit.  A woman ought to be free from such things because she is a human fuckin' being.  Period.  End of story.    

P.P.S.  For the Official Record, I love when guys make their presence known and that they dig what I'm workin' with.  I'm a big fan of a man complimenting and/or flirting with me.  Big fan.  I've had entire days made by a non-asshole-y compliment.  Hell, a few weeks back I encountered some random guy who completely busted a move to hold a door open for me and commented on how pretty I looked in my dress.  (BBG:  "Thank you--  you just became my day-maker!")  Now did I catch him takin' a gander at my hooters?  Yes.  They rarely go unnoticed.  The point is at no nanosecond during this unsolicited interaction did I have the urge to hit him.  And honestly?  "I like those titties"?  If a guy who has actually seen 'em says that to me?  I'm gonna get very, 'yeeeaaah, baby' real quick.  To write this post off as the musings of an overly sensitive prude-y/opposed-to-any-overture chick is erroneous. 

P.P.P.S. (...Now I'm just tryin' to set a P.S. world record)  What was I wearin'?  What the fuck difference does it make?  I will say this;  I'm not so naïve as to think that clothes don't have the power to predicate how people treat you, they do.  Which is exactly why I didn't show up at Lowes sportin' a nippleless bra top and daisy dukes.  Even I'm sorry for that visual.  Ok, good sense and decorum kept that from happening, but honestly unless I've accessorized with an actual pole, slammin' soundtrack, some ping pong balls, a minimum drink requirement and a bouncer?  ...I wasn't dressed in a manner that one would reasonably expect to have to be dealin' with some assholes "I like those titties"-ing ya.  So what I was wearing doesn't really matter, now does it?  Fine.  Now that I've mentioned nippleless bras I feel like I should specify to avoid rumors gettin' started confusion;   A dress.  A lil' run of the mill summertime dress appropriate enough to pop into damn Lowes, and it literally revealed zero cleavage.


Wednesday, June 25, 2014

~ Vaccination: The Choice Is Yours

The choice to vaccinate, or not, is your choice.

But the choice matters more than you may think.  As the subject comes up health is often cited as the catalyst for not vaccinating.  Obviously, every parent's main job is to, as they are able, secure and maintain the health of their child.

While I'm certainly no expert on vaccinations, children or immunology, I am becoming an expert on the ramifications of the lack of vaccinations.  (Spoiler Alert)  The way things are going, at some point, with someone you love, you likely will be too. 

In my medium sized circle of friends I know;
2 people who have had organ transplants,
6 people who have cancer and are undergoing treatment,
1 who has undergone a bone marrow transplant in the past year. 
And one mother who has Lupus who due to meds being used to treat that (at the time, and unbeknownst to us) was immunosuppressed to the level of a bone marrow transplant patient.  A fact we discovered only after an infection that would have been an innocuous event in an otherwise healthy person, like me, that literally put her life on the line and has stolen a year + from her life.  To be clear, what happened to my Mom had nothing to do with anything avoidable by commonly used vaccinations.  ...Which probably begs the question, why they fuck am I yammerin' on about vaccinations? 

This time last year Mom was in the ICU for two weeks.  Everything humanly possible was done to keep a 'simple' infection from claiming her life by highly trained medical professionals with access to the most current protocols.  The fact that in 14 days it was not easily achieved tells ya something about what a dire situation it was.  Since then we've done everything possible to avoid bringing in some bug or virus in for a visit.  The severity of the nature of being immunosuppressed means that when her husband has a cold he takes up residency upstairs, linens require copious amounts of bleaching and surfaces are wiped down with bleach or medical grade disinfectants.  It means that those around her can not take any live virus vaccinations and safely be around her.  Encountering someone who has recently had one could prove to be deadly.  I, who has always taken a,  what doesn't kill me makes me stronger approach to germs, virus and bacteria have even started using the cleansing wipes on grocery store carts.  An act that would have been unheard of out of me a year ago.

If it sounds like we're practically on Bubble Boy precautions?  (The history of Bubble Boy:  the real Bubble Boy and the John Travoltalicious Bubble Boy made for tv movie)  It's because we are.  This is the first time I've shared much of a glimpse of a private health issue that, until now I've never felt was mine to share.  But I'm doing so now to give those who consider refusing vaccinations a decision that solely impacts themselves/minors under their control an idea of the scope of the impact of that decision.  You see our community has recently experienced outbreaks of both measles and mumps.

A new tourism slogan I'm working on...
Yeah.  Outbreaks, plural.  The last update on measles I heard was 348 cases, and last night they reported 
mumps is up to 439.  So now in 20fucking14 we have to be fearful that some unvaccinated person we randomly encounter is playing host monkey for ol' school diseases that if not for the breech of herd immunology that we're seeing played out as a result of the swelling numbers of those choosing not to vaccinate would be things people were last concerned about when women wearin'  lil' white gloves was still a thing.  

This, of course is problematic for us.  Which makes it a, that sucks for you (us), problem.  It does.  (Suck)  If it doesn't yet suck for you?  Congratulations.  I'm ecstatic for you (and yours).  Sincerely.  I am.  It's my honest hope for you that cancer, leukemia, need for an organ or bone marrow transplant never land on your doorstep or of someone in your life.  But the fact is, that if you've been lucky enough to not be touched (directly, or as in my case, indirectly) by any of these health issues it's an amazingly fortunate anomaly that is almost guaranteed to have changed five years from now. 

Most people I know would never dream of havin' a cold and visiting a cancer patient.  Because they realize direct consequences of exposure to someone who is hosting an illness to the health compromised person.  We don't think of vaccinating as having that exact kind of direct effect to people, but we should.  The decision to vaccinate, or not isn't a decision that ends at the end of your fingertips.  It's impact quite literally extends to everyone in your community.   Today, that puts my Mom at particular peril with more than 780+ carrying mumps and measles around our community.  But make no mistake, tomorrow?  You'll know someone who 'communicable disease' wouldn't just mean a temp and a few days of feelin' shitty.   It's certainly your choice to wait until any of the plethora of communicable diseases which had been at near eradicated levels in our nation, continue to surge to realize how and why herd immunization is such a critical public health issue.  Or you can learn from our experience how easily you and yours can find yourselves in these shoes and choose more wisely. 

When the CDC (Centers For Disease Control and Prevention) starts tracking Mumps in 1968 there were 152,209 cases.  By the end of the 70's as inoculation rates increased actual cases dropped to under 10,000 per year.  By the mid-90's cases per year in America average sub 1,000.  Here we are at the half way point of the year (6/14), and in central Ohio alone we currently have nearly half that number of cases with 439.    ...Which again, sucks for us.

Until you realize that the apex of the mumps outbreak in my area was ground zero'd at The Ohio State University (+ a few other area colleges/universities before it spread in to the community at large).  The Ohio State University is a campus comprised of nearly 57,000 students. (OSU has 56,371 more students than the average for all colleges and universities.)  ...Many of whom have just left campus to return home to family and friends, all across the nation (world, really).  Returning to their favorite people to spread mumps even wider.  So, now the lack of vaccination kinda sucks for a much larger swath of Americans.  (Of course I mean for the health compromised folks I noted earlier, but also for babies too young to have started vaccinations who represent some of the most medically vulnerable among us.)  Particularly, I would imagine, for those who live in the states seeing the highest number of non-vaccination levels:

It's your choice.  And your choice has a direct correlation on the health of every household, not just your own.  That is where it stops being solely a personal decision with personal ramifications and becomes a public health matter with real world consequences for real world people.   
illustration: if only some get vaccinated, the virus spreads. if most get vaccinated, spreading is contained.
(Quick video) Info I'm recommending:

And this very interesting article:

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