Greetings From Planet Paula: Just a glitch? Or censorship?

Greetings From Planet Paula: Just a glitch? Or censorship?: Two days ago, I did a blog entitled "WWJD?" It was a SPOOF of the ridiculous proceedings of a certain religion's unnecessary (and enormous)...

Just a glitch? Or censorship?

Two days ago, I did a blog entitled "WWJD?" It was a SPOOF of the ridiculous proceedings of a certain religion's unnecessary (and enormous) expenditures on pomp & circumstance when that money could be much better used helping people. It was accompanied by the above illustration.

When I clicked on it today, my spoof had gone POOF! Gone with the wind, just the following announcement:

Page not found

Sorry, the page you were looking for in the blog Greetings From Planet Paula does not exist.

If it WAS deliberately removed, geez, what did I say that was so offensive anyway? Does the truth hurt that much? If it was just a glitch, today's entry will either prove or disprove that. 

Only time will tell.....

Greetings From Planet Paula: WWJB?

Greetings From Planet Paula: WWJB?: After viewing all the Cardinal hoopla at the Vatican last week, I began to wonder what Jesus would have to say about it as a blogger? Sudden...

Growing Up Italian (The Mama's Family Syndrome)

Now, I'm not saying that ALL Italian-American kids grow up to be mammarellas (figure it out, it's easy) but I think it's safe to say that many do. I know people from my old neighborhood (and family) who are single, AARP-eligible and STILL living with Mama if she's alive. And, forgive me for this, but with these people, visions of Mrs. Bates' wizened withered corpse in the basement fill my head, so attached are they to their mothers. 

If they are married, it doesn't matter ~ Mama continues to dominate with her omnipresent wooden spoon and deadly apron strings, overruling wife, grandchildren, CHILD (even though they may be 50+...)

I call it the Mama's Family Syndrome. Both boys and girls fall victim to it and I can only assume that's because it's easier and less expensive than living on their own (which most Italian mothers discourage) or they are terrified of ever permanently cutting that cord.

I guess I was lucky to have two batshit-crazy parents who strictly adhered to 'spare the rod (fist-smack-yardstick) spoil the child' because they made it very easy for me to want to live on my own by time I was 14 years old (I couldn't WAIT to get away from them, they were so nuts.) And when you're raised by Adolf Hitler II, not too much can terrify you into staying put, you know?

That day came in 1968 when I left home for my first apartment, and became Hester Prynne to friends and family because only putains left home with suit cases and a moving truck instead of a white gown covered with rice. Or as some politely phrased it, a "free spirit." 

Let's see, 1968 - 2012? Yup, still free as a bird and happy to be!