Galactically Stupid

Dying Sucks, For Sure...

2009-08-24T19:55:00.006+01:00

...but things could be worse. But not by much. If you're in your late fifties, with cancer, and taking care of an elderly parent your prospects for employment are few. So, you try to get through each day with wine, pot and a sense of humor. Yes, pot. Deal with it. What's it like to be told you're dying. Not so much different than being told you're drunk. I knew that when I was 18, I know it now. The health care system is so fucked I couldn't begin to tell you, and that's just from having dealt with my Mom for the past year, not to mention me. But do I favor national health care? I really don't know. I could use it because in a month I won't have any, but I worry about my sons and their families in the years to come. I'll be long gone, so I really shouldn't worry about it at all.

Do I think about dying? Not a bit. I have my views on it, being a life-long Catholic, with heaven and such. And I've thought about reincarnation. My best guess is we just go to sleep. Period. I wish it were more, but I doubt it.

Seems As Though...

2008-09-24T17:54:00.006+01:00

...things have been happening since I've been away. As I expected they would. I just have a few thoughts on my mind and instead of keeping them tethered here in my inebriated brain I thought I might unleash them upon the general public.

It seems that this poor fucker done sucked his last dime out of people. None of this crap about how insensitive my comment is. It is what it is. He used people to contribute to his kitty and bought things like computers, software, movies, etc. I realize he had a tough go of it, but sometimes life sucks ass. Mine ain't been none too great lately either, but you don't see me hitting up people for help. I hear people laud him as to what a great wordsmith he was and I won't disagree. I think on occasion he said he believed in the afterlife, or not. If there is one he's done met his maker and I suspect it wasn't quite what he was expecting. Let's move on.

My whole feeling on this bailout of the financial institutions is just that. A feeling. And it ain't a good one. I trust politicians like I trust my ex. They dance a good dance but at the end of the night it ain't the fucking you had in mind.

I had a falling out with an old friend on the simple basis that she thought her shit didn't stink. Simple as that. I have no idea where the idea took root in the past few years that people have carte blanche to do and say as they please and when they get called on it they go ballistic. For the most part people are fairly easy to read. And I can smell bullshit from a silo away. And I'll call it just that when I smell it.

That's it for today. And maybe for the next two months. I'm in the midst of taking care of a situation I didn't sign up for but am doing the best I can to alleviate. No sympathy needed, none wanted. Hell, ain't nobody reading this anyways.

Where The Hell Was I...

2008-08-05T23:22:00.003+01:00

...when the American educational system shit the bed, along with the rest of every system we have??

It had to be sometime in the mid-nineties. Because what I saw last night just befuckled my ass to hell and back. It seems some new fangled program is catching on where they bring in dogs to secondary grades and the kids read to the dogs. That way, if the kids make a mistake, such as a mispronunciation or such, they can just keep on going because the dogs won't correct or chastise them about said blunder. WTF!!! Isn't that the point of education? To correct and teach? How in the hell is a goddamn dog going to do that? Aren't my tax dollars going to a teachers salary so she can speak up and tell little Johnny that, "No, Johnny, it's not pronounced that way."

I've seen the dumbing-down of the other parts of society over the years and I figured I would just learn to deal with it and thank my lucky stars my ass wasn't caught up in that crap. One of my sons did well in school and the other one just wasn't interested. When something caught his fancy he excelled splendidly. But they lived 400 miles away so I had no way of checking on their daily development. When I did go visit or communicate, which was very often, they seemed to be doing well. But this shit is just that; SHIT. No child left behind? Hell, we forgot to bring the parents along for the ride.

Just Curious...

2008-08-03T14:59:00.005+01:00

...if there's anything comparable to rape in any other species. I've never had anything in my psychic makeup that would compel me to 'force' a women to have sex. Never even occurred to me. I'm one of those weird ones that can't even consider it unless I feel something for a woman, and vice versa.

But is there such a thing as monkey rape, or bird rape, or alligator rape? I'm perfectly aware of the fact that human sexuality is a mighty force and at times men, or women, take it to a level that is considered inappropriate or even criminal. But does it occur in other species? Mortimer Adler wrote about what makes us different in 'The difference of man and the difference it makes'. Never mentions it. Just asking.

Random...

2008-08-03T10:33:00.002+01:00

...Ramblings.

I've never been one to watch beach volleyball. Although the women are certainly nubile and athletic, they have no titties. What's the point of watching a woman jumping up and down if there isn't some sort of titty meat to go with it. I do like a nice ass, but it doesn't move, unless I'm on the back end of it. Which ain't gonna happen in the near future.

You would think moving away from a place where you've lived for 12 years would give pause. It doesn't. When I moved here I was $70,000 in debt. I'm leaving debt free. That's the only good thing about living like a hermit. You don't spend any money.
You can try and prove me wrong, but for the most part people are full of shit. Call me jaded if you like, but I've been around long enough to call a spade a spade. I've heard enough 'Call me if you need anything's' to last a lifetime. I've lived alone long enough to figure out how to get by. After my skin cancer surgery I had to use a knife, fork and tongs to change my dressings on my back. But I got it done without the help of any of the 'do-gooders'.
When I was 14 a friend, Nick, asked me if I wanted to go hunt squirrel. His Dad was a big game hunter and Nick thought he should be too. At 14 you ain't gonna go shoot bison in the woods in Stonehaven, but I went for it. I had never pulled the trigger on any type of gun, other than my dick, but on my first try I nailed a tree rat from 75 feet. Nick was dumbfounded. We went a few more times and I was always able to do better than he. I think it pissed him off. I never shot again until I went in the Navy. They gave us a 45 and a 22 rifle and told us to hit a target at 50 feet. I never once missed the bulls eye with either. I haven't fired since. The whole thing about guns and play confounds me.
This whole 'Green The Planet' thing befuckles me. If you go back and read about all the things that happened to this planet you have to wonder why some think we are the main culprit. Hells Bells, things are just getting started. And Mother Nature will do it all by her damned self.

It Seems I Have A Load...

2008-08-03T09:56:00.003+01:00

...of fecal matter in my colon that shouldn't be there. For those of you not familiar with feces, it means I'm full of shit.

Apparently there are some people out there selling their wares and they claim it will clean said shit out of said colon in a week or two and I'll be walking around with 12 pounds less of built up shit in my gut. They want something like two payments of $1 million dollars to accomplish this feat. I've always found that drinking a box of Franzia Merlot on a Saturday pretty much does the same thing, and it only costs me sixteen dollars. I reckon I'll stick with my plan until my liver shits the bed. Then my colon won't care, nor will I.

Size Matters...

2008-08-03T05:44:00.003+01:00

...or so they say. You've all seen those commercials for male enhancement, yes? ExTenze. Makes that certain part of the male anatomy larger.

Can't they say Penis on TV? PENIS. PENIS. PENIS. I assume that's the part of my anatomy they're talking about. In my case it wouldn't do any good. Nothing's gonna get this dead dick back in the saddle. Perhaps they're talking about some other part of my body. My liver? Nah, I'm drinking that larger as we speak. My lips? Nope. Big enough. Biceps perhaps? WRONG!! It's my PENIS. SAY IT, DAMMIT!! You want my PENIS bigger. Better yet, you want my COCK bigger. SAY IT!!! YOU WANT MY COCK BIGGER. I hate advertisements. So should you.

I Don't Care When You Do it...

2008-08-03T05:02:00.005+01:00

...but moving sucks. I've spent the past month giving away or throwing away thirty years of my life. With no regard. Many memories, few regrets. The bed held some. Many, many great romps with Carol. But that was so damned long ago I don't even remember.

Carol had GREAT tits. That's about all I remember about her. I do remember giving her a copy of Narcissus and Goldmund one Christmas. I'm not sure she ever read it. She used to come over to the last place I lived before I moved to this hell hole. She was a smart woman. A reporter. But she'd watch Inside Edition and call it the news. That used to make me fucking crazy. I'm leaving here with five boxes and five Glad trash bags. And a bad back from hauling that damned bed to the dumpster. Go figure.

Happy Is As Happy Does...

2008-07-12T01:50:00.002+01:00

...and now I have to deal with this inane bullshit that people are carrying around with them that despite the fact that the world is shitting itself they still reserve the right to 'be HAPPY'.

Fuck this whole mess of shit. I was watching the news tonight and some lady thought it was necessary, in this economy, to get her gum's and teeth fixed, despite the fact that her mortgage was in arrears and she had no insurance. But she wanted to look 'atractive'. Because it made her feel good and happy. WTF!!

Am I just cosmically stupid or just galactically so? The issue is, boys and girls, that the world, and in particular, America, that you have so comfortably lived in for the past 20 years is slowly, yet methodically, crumbling around you. And yet you insist on 'being happy' at all costs.

God help you all for your ignorance.

Just Shut The Fuck Up...

2008-07-04T01:57:00.006+01:00

...and keep your comments about my physical stature to yourself.

Some dickweed that was recently promoted to sales manager made the comment today that I was 'skinny'. My reply, of course, was 'Really, I've never heard that before. And cancer will do that to you'. Now, this buffoon is about 6'3" and weighs about 350 and has had so many medical problems the past few months that I can't count them. Of course, he was out of the loop and didn't know I had cancer, so he shuffled his ass away and said he was fat.

I didn't say anything after that. I know that I have always been thin. But I like to call it sinewy. I ain't no skeleton. I just finished taking out 10 boxes of books to my truck to donate to the library before my move and they weighed about 50 lbs. a piece. No problem.

After his degrading comment I thought to myself how his weight will cost our health insurance premiums to go up far more than my being skinny and having a PSA of 0.1 with prostate cancer. Because he can't control himself. He's been through so many tests the past few months I can't begin to count them. One MD even told him he wouldn't treat him.

So, little one's, don't comment on the looks of others. It demeans you and makes you a slug. And I'm confident that one day it will come back to bite you on the ass. HARD. And not only that, it ain't right. But if you insist upon it, then my skinny ass will plant two lateral kicks to your knee and one straight away on your knee cap. Then we'll see what difference it makes who weighs what. You'll fall far quicker than I ever would. And don't think I haven't done it.

Soon To Be...

2008-06-25T22:30:00.004+01:00

back to blogging. As soon as I move and get myself settled and out of the fray.

In the meantime, I'd like to set the record straight. There is a difference between a cynic and a skeptic. A BIG one. I have always been called the former. I am not. I am the latter.

For example, what if you had the chance to get a glimpse of our old friend Bab's titties. She said they were big, and real. Now, if that is true, then if someone said "Those are some good tits", and if I were a cynic, my response would be "yep, it they're real". A cynic deals with the goodness of things. Real titties, good. Fake, bad.

Now, if we agreed on the goodness of the object, but someone said "man, look at those tits, I bet you could fuck them all day long", my response, as skeptic would be "not likely. It ain't gonna happen." Skeptics deal with whether things can be done or not.

Oh, and yeah, I still like titties. Go figure.

Holy Fuck-A-Moly...

2008-02-13T23:40:00.003Z

...things are getting away from me and I wasn't even aware of it.

Seems the king of heat was on Capital Hill today instead of the hill in Yankee stadium. Seems some chump is accusing him of doping or some such thing. I ain't no baseball fan. Was when I was a kid. Ain't a kid no more. Seems said chump did, in fact, inject his wife. With HGH. Doesn't appear to me she needed any help of any kind, but, ya see kids, here's the point. People in high places that make lots of cash and are in the public eye all the time want to stay there. FOREVER. So they do things. Just the way it is. I prefer to stay in my hole and hide myself from the light of day. I will say this, however, that is not the body of someone that just sits on their ass all day long, but nor is it the body of someone that works out for an hour a day.
Seems a beagle won the best in show at the WMKC. A fucking beagle!! I have nothing against dogs. Seems to me that some people pour a lot of money into raising and breeding them. Don't see the point. A mutt to me is as good as a pedigree. Same with wine. Some people won't drink a bottle that costs less than $100. That would scare me, knowing I'm just gonna piss it out. I'll stick with my cheap ass shit. Beagles have an annoying way about them with that howling they do. I'd shoot the fucker, but that's just me.
For the first time in my life I have a part in my hair. I'm trying to grow it out so I can wear it the way I did way back when, but it is very uncooperative. I look like a little boy with an old man's face. Lucky for me I don't really give a shit.
Someone hijacked the site and will prolly do it again. So what. It's just a blog.

Well Damn...

2008-02-10T01:13:00.000Z

...I reckon ya just can't fight Mother Nature.

As men, try as we may, there ain't no talking to the wimmin' folk. Especially when they get shit in their head. Ya see these body parts? They rule the world. Funny how that is. I'm not particularly fond of them. I prefer the parts that reside in the Northern hemisphere.

Point? Don't have one. The way women think is so fucked up that if we had any sense we'd drown ourselves in a vat of wine. GOOD idea!!!

Well, Politics Isn't All About Issues..

2008-02-09T01:29:00.000Z

...nor should it be. I am neither a Republican nor a Dimocrat. Nor an Independent. I am a neuph. Don't ask. You'll figure it out. I don't really care what the candidates spew about their agendas. They'll all fall aside if they get elected. I enjoy watching their constituents make their cases as to why their candidate should be elected.

You may think I like politics. I don't. I haven't voted in 30 years. I like watching. Most people find Ms. Coulter nothing more than an Adams Apple. I've always found her attractive, more so for her synapses than her long neck and fingers. But imagine what those things could do. But it seems she has decided to up the bounty some, if'n ya know what I mean. Now I have to pay attention to her because not only has she vowed NOT to vote for McCain, but she seems to have either got her some new puppies or a new brassiere. I hope it's the latter. Fake titties suck, especially in politics. But, DAMN, I can dream, can't I.

Blogged, I Have Not...

2008-02-09T00:40:00.000Z

...and for good reason.

I've been trying to clean up the shit in my life, but much to my dismay, it ain't working. Hard as I try to make my life 'Clorox' clean, it just isn't in the bottle. I could go "Green", I suppose, but that's counter-intuitive. My psyche has been poisoned by forces that I can't expunge. What to do, what to do? I thought I'd get over my titty fixation by concentrating on different parts on the female anatomy. Did that work? A resounding NO!!! So I resigned myself to the fact that I'd be a eunuch for the rest of my life. But the thought of that made my loins hurt in anger, and they suddenly reared their ugly head and gave me a glimpse of what used to be. But, alas, there is no one here to share the fruits of my labor.

So I will carry on as a pale shadow of what I once was, knowing that I can't recover that which I once had. But hey, it seems the Babs and the ambulance guy are still together, despite my claim they wouldn't be. I'm forlorn by that outcome. Not that I was wrong in my prediction, but because someone else got to see her nipples before I did. Ya see how this pitiful excuse for grey matter works? I just had to take five Wellbutrin to calm myself down.

I suppose it is what it is, but I don't much care for it. I'd rather not be so misogynistic, but what's one to do? Ah well, what the hell. Let's see where this shit takes us, shall we Cross Eyed Mary?

HMMM...Maybe It's Karma...

2008-02-09T00:39:00.001Z

It may take me awhile to get into the swing of this forsaken form of communication. But let's see what happens...

Hello Old Friend
by Eric Clapton

As I am strolling down the garden path,
I saw a flower glowing in the dark.
It looked so pretty and it was unique;
I had to bend down just to have a peek.

Hello old friend,
It's really good to see you once again.
Hello old friend,
It's really good to see you once again.

I saw you walking underneath the stars;
I couldn't stop 'cause I was in a car.
I'm sure the distance wouldn't be too far
If I got out and walked to where you are.

Chorus

An old man passed me on the street today;
I thought I knew him but I couldn't say.
I stopped to think if I could place his frame.
When he tipped his hat I knew his name.

Just Some Thoughts...

2007-10-25T13:11:00.001+01:00

...on various and sundry things...

If there was ever a perfect example of why avoiding steroids is a good thing, take the Governator. I can honestly say I don't think I've ever seen one of his movies. Never appealed to me. And how the brain-bound numnuts got to be Governor is beyond my comprehension, but it is what it is. Let's move on...
I don't have many phobias that I'm aware of. I don't like munching on fishy smelling pussy, but I don't really think that qualifies as a phobia. I am afraid of people, which makes life kinda tenuous. I mean, it's kinda hard to go anywhere without running into someone. So I do what I can to avoid them. A clown phobia is a weird thing. Seems lots of people are afraid of them. Can't imagine why, unless they were assaulted by them in some way. But it's apparently more common than you think. I was walking down the beach one time with my eldest son when he was about a year old. Someone was walking their dog, a baby German Shepard, and as spry pups are wont to do, it jumped up and one of its toenails clipped my sons eyelid. Of course he started screaming bloody ass murder. For years he ran like a rat off a ship when he saw a dog. I reckon that's a phobia. Some people are Arachnaphobic. That makes sense. I ain't a big fan of them either, but I don't get all freaky when I see one. In our first house we used to have black widows in the garage. Whenever I'd go to clean things up I'd run across two or three. They really aren't much of a match for us. Some women are like them, though. I really am afraid of them. Let's move on...
When I was a younger man and still had spermies swimming around in my testicles I would watch Wonder Woman. I thought Linda Carter was about as hot as they got. She still is and my loins pine for her. This is a picture of her huge titties. I would like to cover them with Lochs and Cream Cheese and have a religious ceremony. Instead, I think I'll pray the rosary and hope for a miracle.

Just Some Thoughts...

2007-10-25T13:11:00.000+01:00

...on various and sundry things...

If there was ever a perfect example of why avoiding steroids is a good thing, take the Governator. I can honestly say I don't think I've ever seen one of his movies. Never appealed to me. And how the brain-bound numnuts got to be Governor is beyond my comprehension, but it is what it is. Let's move on...
I don't have many phobias that I'm aware of. I don't like munching on fishy smelling pussy, but I don't really think that qualifies as a phobia. I am afraid of people, which makes life kinda tenuous. I mean, it's kinda hard to go anywhere without running into someone. So I do what I can to avoid them. A clown phobia is a weird thing. Seems lots of people are afraid of them. Can't imagine why, unless they were assaulted by them in some way. But it's apparently more common than you think. I was walking down the beach one time with my eldest son when he was about a year old. Someone was walking their dog, a baby German Shepard, and as spry pups are wont to do, it jumped up and one of its toenails clipped my sons eyelid. Of course he started screaming bloody ass murder. For years he ran like a rat off a ship when he saw a dog. I reckon that's a phobia. Some people are Arachnaphobic. That makes sense. I ain't a big fan of them either, but I don't get all freaky when I see one. In our first house we used to have black widows in the garage. Whenever I'd go to clean things up I'd run across two or three. They really aren't much of a match for us. Some women are like them, though. I really am afraid of them. Let's move on...
When I was a younger man and still had spermies swimming around in my testicles I would watch Wonder Woman. I thought Linda Carter was about as hot as they got. She still is and my loins pine for her. This is a picture of her huge titties. I would like to cover them with Lochs and Cream Cheese and have a religious ceremony. Instead, I think I'll pray the rosary and hope for a miracle.

Let's Get It Started...

2007-10-24T13:10:00.000+01:00

...with this worthless piece of shit again. The break was nice. Not that I really needed it. I have nothing noteworthy to say on most occasions. And it's likely to continue. But let's get this shit rolling downhill.

It seems there's some sort of fire ravaging the countryside in California. Everyone seems to be invoking the name of the Federal Government to come save their asses. Used to be when people were subjected to trials and tribulations they invoked the help of the almighty. Reckon times have changed. Nonetheless, I have no sympathy for anyone that lives out there. You knew the risks when you decided to build you multi million dollar home in an area that was subject to wildfires and drought. Quit asking the government/Fema for help. You should have known this was a possibility. Hope you have good homeowners policies. Some poor bitch was distraught that she forgot to gather up her cats before she evacuated. Wouldn't a game plan have been a good idea? Oh well, I'll survive.
I'm dismayed by the coverage by the MSM of this issue. If it were me, I'd just say that the poor citizens got fucked and let's move on. How much fire can one watch?
Seems the housing market shit the bed while I was away. Just another case of greed, pure and simple. Man can't worship Mammon, so sayeth the Lord. What goes round comes around. Good riddance. They say the American dream is to own a home. Guess that shit ain't true anymore. What in the hell happened to reading a contract anyways. If you see something in there that says that in two years your APR is going up by 13% doesn't that raise a flag of some sort? I'm just asking.
I've changed my appearance somewhat since I was here last time. Hope ya'll like it. It seems to fit, dontcha think?
Anyone know how AD and BabsRn are doing? I haven't read either of their blogs as of late, nor any, for that matter. But going to grab the links I noticed she changed hers again. Damned if her mind ain't contrary.
We are in what they call an "Extreme Drought" here in the southeast. As I speak it's raining, so that's a help. Actually have some thunder rumbling out there. Not that any rain we get today will make a significant impact on the deficit. But I was somewhat shocked when they said that the average individual uses 150 gallons of water a day. I'm no scientist nor mathematician, but I do know that there are 32 ounces to a quart, and four quarts to a gallon. I used to spray deadly chemicals onto turf where any type of mixup could wreak havoc. So I'm familiar with a gallon. In my universe, I might use 20 gallons a day, at most. And that would be on days that I do laundry. On others, given my skinny ass, I might use ten, at best. Whom these fuckers are that use 150 gallons a day must be aliens of some sort. Or spend 8 hours in the shower.

But, I'm doing my part to conserve water. I quit brushing my teeth. I only flush my urine when it gets to the point that when I walk in the bathroom it smells like a baby's diaper(yeah, you know that smell), I turn on the shower and let it run for two minutes with the drain closed and then do my thing. I run the dishwasher once a week and until then I eat off dirty plates.

Of course, the environazis are claiming that this drought and the fires in California are the result of global warming. Bullshit, I say. It is what it is.
Speaking of titties, which we weren't, but we are now, I've noticed a rash of women in the media coming out proclaiming their fight with breast cancer and how they've dealt with it. They give the typical response about how happy they are to be alive, how it's changed their life, and what not. And I guess I have to believe them. I reckon they wouldn't lie about it. And being a cancer patient myself, I kinda know how this shit works.

I'll write more on this later, but I want to expound on this for a second. And I have done so in the past. Women claim they don't pay any attention to their boobs and they could well do without them. I again claim bullshit. I happen to love women; their smell, their mannerisms, their beguiling ways. But if you love the woman then you love the package.

But to some women, tits are tits, and they want them, and the bigger the better. Walk down any beach and look at the bathing suits. What do most women accentuate? Yep. Point made.

I gotta go. My brain is flooding with visions of titty meat.

YaDa...YaDa..YaDa...

2007-10-24T01:08:00.000+01:00

So I'm thinking of maybe penning a few insights for a bit. We'll see how it goes. I never did this for recognition. Just to offer what my synapses spewed out there. Of course, you know I'll start with tits, but you have no idea why I do so. I'll leave that up to you.

If I get one ONE response from this post then I will continue. If not, then I go back into my hole. No harm, no foul.

I'm Going To Bag This Puppy For A Bit...

2007-09-24T23:17:00.000+01:00

...due to my own lack of interest.

Just A Heads Up On...

2007-09-22T01:07:00.000+01:00

...on these guys.

At the end of my life when I take that journey all alone
And I’m on my own and there’s no one there to save me
Oh when I look back at all the things that I’ve done wrong
You know I wasn’t always strong lord will you take me

Cause I been down as far as a man can go
I wanna be ready when I hear that whistle blow

CHORUS:
And I’m on the last train running and the devil’s coming
Hoping that my good outweighs the bad
And I’m heading for the station the final destination
Praying for the lord to take my hand
And I’m on the last train running

When I close my eyes and I’m holding on to my last breath
I don’t want my regrets to coming back to haunt me
When it’s far too late to ask forgiveness for my sins
I hope my enemies and friends can both forgive me

Will there be tears for me when I go
Or will I be just another name carved in a stone

CHORUS:
When I’m on the last train running and the devil’s coming
Doing all he can to take my soul
And I’m heading for the station the final destination
Praying for the lord to take me home
And I’m on the last train running
I’m on the last train running

You only get one shot
One chance against the clock and
You only get one life
One chance to make it right

When I’m on the last train running and the devil’s coming
Doing all he can to take my soul or lord won’t you come and take me home
On the last train running
When I’m on the last
On the last train
When I’m on the last train running

Seems As Though The Red Baron...

2007-09-21T23:15:00.000+01:00

...dun flew his plane into the front of a nearby restaurant this morning.

Turns out it was only minutes before opening and the crew was in the kitchen prepping and the misers were in the office counting their coffers. But no one was outside standing inline to go feed their faces at the fat factory. So no innocent bystanders suffered any injuries from this stupid maneuver. Only the Baron bit the dust.

Back in the day I had 20 hours of flying time under my belt. First thing they teach you when you go up is that at the first sign of trouble you take the plane as far away from civilians as possible. Apparently the Baron missed this session. I'd like to give the stupid son-of-a-bitch the benefit of the doubt, but he flew over a very populated area, and engine failure usually gives you some kind of warning. Guess he wanted to go down in flames, which is exactly what his ass did. Preliminary investigations suggest no flight plan was logged so one might think this will turn out suspect. I'd agree.

I'd Like To Write More On Politics...

2007-09-19T23:41:00.000+01:00

...the media, current affairs and the like, but with the recent turn of events I've decided I won't waste my time or yours spewing forth venom about any of them. They can all kiss my ass

I never watched the first OJ debacle and I'll be damned if I'll have anything to do with it now. And now Dan Rather, at 75 fucking years old, is suing CBS for $75 million dollars. WTF. Just pack it in and move back to Texas. What in the world are you going to do with that kind of money if you win? You already have enough. And Guilliani is over in London smoozing Americans for money. For $1000 a plate you get to sit there and listen to his ass. For $2500 you get to sit there and listen to his ass AND have a picture taken. They don't specify if the picture is with his with ass, but I assume it is.

I have come to find all of it just total bullshit. Nuff said.

A Simple Thanks...

2007-09-19T21:04:00.000+01:00

...to those of you that offered up prayers and thoughts for the former wife. Her biopsy came back negative. That was one happy lady on the other end of the phone this afternoon. Me thinks there will be a glass of wine or 12 sucked down tonight on both our parts.

There Aren't Many Redeeming Qualities...

2007-09-18T23:24:00.000+01:00

...about having majored in philosophy. Oh sure, it can get some attention at parties when you make someone look like an ass in an argument, but you end up with a drink in your lap.

Nevertheless, it does come in handy at times. Especially when it comes to logic. There are two types in typical logic; deductive and inductive. I prefer the former, simply because if your premises are true the conclusion is true.

Case in point: see the pic? That's called actinic purpura. It happens when you get older or you have severely sun-damaged skin. I ain't that old yet but I do have damaged skin to the 12 hours a day in the sun, and I started seeing them show up a few months ago. Had no idea why it was happening so I researched it and found out the above. Ain't much you can do about it, because they take about a month to disappear and then if they are severe enough they stain your skin. But I thought it odd that they would suddenly start showing up.

Then when I had that episode of my head blowing up like a pumpkin I also found out that things like predisone can make them worse, which they did. Once they finally cleared up I went and had my BP meds changed and suddenly I didn't get them any longer. Until the other day, when I went back to my former medication because the new one wasn't working. Low and damned behold the first thing I woke up to was one of the purpuras. WTF?? Deduction was called for. Research. One of the side-effects of Norvasc is easy bruising. Now I know why they started when they did and why they are now back.

Back in May I decided that after 30 years I should get a regular GP and find out my critical levels(liver enzymes, cholesterol, triglycerides, etc). About 99.9% came back below normal. Yet I've been sick the majority of time since I paid that first visit. Deduction dictates to stay the hell away from those motherfuckers.

As Long As We're Praying This Week...

2007-09-15T12:45:00.005+01:00

...it seemed appropriate to include everyone.

Fuck-It Friday...

2007-09-14T23:35:00.000+01:00

...and then some.

We haven't had rain here in almost three months. I'm not in the industry anymore, nor do I own a house, so I don't frankly give a shit. I turn the water off when I brush my teeth, I take a seven minute shower and my dishwasher is set on water miser. So I would appreciate it if the local news channels would quit spending millions of dollars on some new fangled radar that is supposed to tell my ass that it's raining. I can see that.
I hate going to bed feeling well and waking up feeling like hell. This morning my throat felt like the furnace in a steel mill. Why is it that our immune system shits the bed when we go to sleep?
I had skin cancer surgery last Friday. I went for a check-up today. It's infected. I did everything they told me to do, and then some. It's an old building and the rooms kinda look like my bathroom. I don't think I'd want surgery done there. My ass is done with MD's for awhile.
ENOUGH. I don't give a shit what Bush says, that situation is lost. I admire what they are trying to do, but the government over there just isn't capable of reconciling the different wants and needs of the factions. Glad my nephew got out in time.
In typical fashion, the powers that be at work have decided that we need to change direction, so they hired that new guy I've written about. All they do now is have meetings. And they forget the simple shit that gets the product out the door. Go figure.
This gentleman died this week. I didn't know him all that well, but we did e-mail one another on occasion and comment on each others blog when something tickled our asses. We had one thing in common: big titties. He liked them in red. I didn't give a damn. I liked mine bare. RIP big guy. You had one helluva heart.

On Monday...

2007-09-14T22:35:00.000+01:00

...I will have lived in this city, and my little dungeon, for ten years. There are times when I question whether the decision I made was the correct one. On reflection, it's hardly worth the effort of contemplating. It is what it is.

When the former wife and I owned our house we were inundated with vermin. We lived across from a horse farm, out in the country, and we dealt with everything from black widows to mice. It was a nuisance, for sure, especially when you have two youngin's, but I always found a way to keep the place safe and comfy.

When I moved here to the little box I didn't anticipate any insect problems. I'm not an insect-a-phobe by any stretch. They inhabit the planet same as we. And I tend to give them their space as long as they don't infringe on mine. Live and Let Live. And considering the fact that I live on a lake I've been pretty fortunate as far as that goes. Oh, I've had the black snake on the back porch. Easily dismissed. The one October when every night I would come and find four or five spiders partying in the bedroom. Couldn't for the life of me figure out where they were coming from. Since I like to keep the sliding glass door open in the bedroom that opens to the lake I engaged my investigative skills one evening and found that they had set up a commune in the threshold and would crawl out of the little drip holes and threaten me with what they though was my arachnophobia. Silly little things. I nuked their asses and have been free ever since. OK, every once in awhile some scavenger will find his way in but it is duly disposed of.

Now, in all the years I've been here I've never had to deal with a cricket. I've never liked those SOB's since the first time I used them for bait. They're a pain in the ass to catch and I don't like shoving the hook up their ass. But the other day I came home and all I heard was this chirp-chirp-chirp. I figured it was coming from outside, so I ignored it. Until that night, when, with the sliding door closed, I heard the incessant whine. For three days I tried to track that fucker down and finally isolated it in the bathroom. So I cleaned out the cupboard. Nowhere to be found. Took apart the vent for the AC and the fart fan and sprayed some Raid. Nope. Sat in there again because for some reason those rascals know when you are in their territory. Opened the cupboards again and I swore the intensity of the chirp escalated, so I emptied it again. Nothing.

I was about to resign myself to the fact that I would have a roommate. I have no idea what they eat, but this terrorist was obviously surviving. The next day I was emptying the trash and went and grabbed the bag from the bathroom and took it to the dumpster. Low and damned behold I haven't heard a peep since then. I have no idea how in the hell it ever got in there. And it would have been the last place I looked.

Such is life in the fast lane.

First Off, Let Me Apologize...

2007-09-13T23:37:00.001+01:00

...for the fact that I am about to ask for prayer for the second time in one week. The good news about my friends sister is that she has no other cancer in her body and will be operated on the first of next week for the brain tumor, which should be a piece-of-cake as tumors go.

However, on Monday, my former wife has a biopsy scheduled for breast cancer. This is someone that is the Mother of my children, and they don't deserve two parents whom have cancer. I have four ventricles in my heart, and she owns two of them. Even after twenty years of being apart. I offered to be there but she's convinced it's nothing. But I made her promise to call me when she gets the results and if it isn't good news then we get a second opinion here at Duke.

I'm a pretty seasoned veteran when it comes to this stuff, and I'm not naive enough to think that bad things aren't gonna happen. After talking to her last night we just laughed about it and I told her the other one is big enough that they can just take half of that and attach it to the other side. But, goddammit, I don't want my sons having to worry about their parents when they are in the prime of their lives.

We will survive, but if you have some room on that prayer rope of yours I would appreciate it if you could offer a few up for her.

This Is Just Too Damned Funny...

2007-09-13T19:17:00.000+01:00

So, It Seems Someone Is Going On Hiatus...

2007-09-12T00:15:00.000+01:00

...to pursue writing, and frolicking in the woods and such. And spend time with her family. And maybe write some really good stuff, which she usually does.

And I applaud her for that decision. You see, oft times things are not as they seem. I have talked to said person on an occasion or two. I enjoyed that. She has that southern drawl that will melt your heart and she's feisty enough to tell you to get your ass in the kitchen and finish the fried okra.

There was no great plan here, but something told me that maybe this southern belle had better things to do with her time than waste it on a blog. She finally figured it out. I don't profess to have had anything to do with it. I didn't. But I'm glad she's made the decision she has.

Good luck Babs. I've always admired your writing and your spunk. No hard feelings, I hope. And I hope you and AD get to share many moments together.

And AD, I may be old, but I ain't an "old man" yet. I hope I get to see just a modicum of that state of being.

Let your souls flourish. Sometimes God works in mysterious ways, dontcha think?

I Know I Don't Have Many Readers...

2007-09-11T00:46:00.001+01:00

...which is fine. This isn't an ego thing for me, and I would never ask for the prayers for myself.

But I have a very dear friend that lost her Mom a few weeks ago and today her younger Sister had a seizure and they discovered a mass in her brain. This is a pretty strong woman, but even she has her breaking point. So if you are the prayerful type I would appreciate it if you would offer some up on her behalf. She needs them. More so her sister.

It Befuckles Me Why The Dimwits In Congress...

2007-09-11T00:01:00.000+01:00

...would want to take this man on. Best I could tell from watching some of the testimony was that he rolled over them like a Bradley.

Whom would know better the state of affairs over there than the guy with four stars on each shoulder? I know he couldn't shoot them all with his .45 so he should have just given them all a coffee enema.

I have no confidence whatsoever in this entire government. They're all just power hungry morons with little concern for the average American. To hell with all of them.

If You Can't Stand The Heat...

2007-09-09T21:51:00.000+01:00

...get outta the kitchen.

And all this time of reading her and how she went on and on about how strong she was and a little criticism comes her way and she bails like the little chicken shit she is. And she says she made her decision because the weather is pretty and some such other bullshit. I expected better. And ole AD comments that he supports you no matter what. How noble. What else is the stupid sonofabitch gonna say if he wants to stay in her good graces.

Good riddance, I say.

Never Met The Man...

2007-09-08T10:25:00.000+01:00

...but I certainly would have liked to spend a few hours with him. Over a few beers,laughs, music and rumblings.

I'm in a lot of pain this morning from a skin cancer procedure yesterday. I took myself there and drove my own ass home. Most of my family knew about it. And trust me, it wasn't that big of a deal. I live by myself for a reason. But a simple phone call to see if I was OK wouldn't have bothered me. Never got one, save for one friend. For that I am thankful. (ED: one son called today).

There's an art to caring. It comes from the soul. I would like to believe that health care professionals have those souls, but that is their job, so they have to remove themselves from the emotional side of things. As I was going through the procedure yesterday the nurse came in and was going through her usual routine and I just said "Hi Debbie". She seemed taken aback, not just because I remembered her name, but because I wasn't just some pussy laying on a table. I took the time to recognize her and what she was doing.

I didn't need a nurse maid when I got home. Just my Merlot. And some sleep. Hope you got some, because my ass sure as hell didn't.

I Don't Have Much Money...

2007-09-07T21:43:00.000+01:00

...so I don't want my ass getting sued for millions, but surfing the TV this afternoon I came across some young woman that had the voice of an angel.

I came in late to her solo, but I have to admit that I was mesmerized by her talent. I didn't pay any attention as to what the program was until she ended her act. Then I realized what show it was. And then the hostess(who's sexuality has always been in question) got up and hugged her and grabbed her pom pom hairdo and hugged her again. And her left BREAST. I saw it with my own two eyes. And it looked to me like she did it intentionally. Because she slid her hand down there. Play the tape and tell me I'm wrong.

I Usually Don't Pick On Old People...

2007-09-07T19:03:00.000+01:00

but there comes a time when your ass has to realize that it's time to hang it up.

I've never watched a movie of this gentleman. But I have seen some of his son's work. Some good, some bad. What puzzled me today was why this ancient turtle that had a stroke would would go on a morning news show to hump his book. The humping I get. The part that you can't understand a goddamn thing the old fart says befuddles my ass. I'm sorry he suffered a stroke, but that should have been the key that locks the door to keep his ass inside and not make a fool of himself.

What The Fuck...

2007-09-07T01:24:00.000+01:00

...has happened to professional football? I haven't watched a game in about five years, including Super Bowls, but I thought I'd give it a try tonight.

It's even worse than I could have imagined. I used to enjoy going to my sons Junior High and High School games. This shit on TV is nothing but drivel. And I ain't even to the game yet, nor do I plan on seeing it. All fluff. Faith Hill? Please!!!! No wonder these assholes get their asses arrested all the time. They aren't anything but glorified pieces of meat that thrive on bling, pussy and attention.

I long for the day of a Gale Sayers. Now that was football. Fuck the NFL. Faith Hill couldn't tell a linebacker from a jock strap. Money, Money and more Money. Shame.

OH OH...

2007-09-06T23:20:00.000+01:00

...seems someone is sitting on their throne and won't play nicely with the other boys and girls.

Of course, when you have a sophomoric attitude when you are perched on the pot then what else would you expect but some criticism and derogatory remarks. And if you can't take them in stride, then either quit acting as if your blog should be off-limits to any personal attacks or make it available only to those you want to visit it.

You may have seen many things in your short life, but they are shrouded in the vacuum you've lived in. The same can be said of all of us. We perceive reality from whence we came. You can dish it out fairly easily, but you sure as hell can't take it.

Smoke A Button...

2007-09-01T15:12:00.000+01:00

...and then listen.

I was driving around the city this morning at 4:30 looking for the homeless and hookers that I might take advantage of. I rarely listen to rock radio anymore, but this song came on and I pulled into a parking lot and just soaked it in. The gilded entry of the chords at the beginning that explode into the finale is just spectacular. Some say it's the best rock song of all time. I wouldn't know. Time isn't done yet. Best of when it came out, for sure. Hard to believe it's 36 years old. I was 18 at the time. Still rocks my ass.

I'm Going To Give You An Example...

2007-09-01T13:07:00.000+01:00

...of why I despise the medical profession. It should concern you.

I went to my GP on Thursday for a follow-up regarding my blood pressure. It's been pretty good since I've been on Norvasc. Only problem was it made me pee about 200 times a day. I go enough as it is with the PCa, but this was ridiculous. So when I told the MD he said it wasn't a side effect of the drug. NOT TRUE. Since they had just that morning put into effect a new computer system that would allow them to get rid of charts and be totally computerized, I asked him to query the side effects of the drug. Sure enough. He was surprised to learn that although it's an uncommon side effect, it does happen. And if it's uncommon, I'll suffer from it. At that point I was beginning to wonder if maybe I should take over his appointments for the day. I'm sure my bedside manner wouldn't be the best. I'd most likely kick most of the patients out on their asses and tell them to quit bothering me with their minor ailments.

Sooo, the MD suggested I lay off the Norvasc for a week and see if the symptoms subside. If they do but my BP goes up then I should take the script he was giving me. And what was it? THE VERY SAME THING that made my head blow up like the Hindenburg. I just looked at him with disdain and said "Think Again". Oh yeah, you can't take that, can you? DUH!!! So he scripts me for Diltiazem, a calcium-channel blocker. The other that screwed me up was an Ace Inhibitor. He said I should be fine.

So when I got to work I queried said drug and what to my wondering eyes should appear...CONTACT YOUR HEALTHCARE PROVIDER IMMEDIATELY IF YOU EXPERIENCE SWELLING OF THE FACE, EYES, LIPS, TONGUE, ARMS OR LEGS. I will never go back to that mother fucker again.

And nurses are no better. The hospice nurse my Dad had thought she was god's gift to the world and I should be more engaged in his care. Fuck you, bitch. I take care of him 24-7. You come twice a week. He was doing moderately well for the 3 1/2 months I had been there. Then one afternoon she tried to cath him with a '22. A fucking '22. This is a 74 year old guy with a urethra the size of a needle with stricture and she's trying with a fucking '22? She gave up. I suggested maybe a '14. She didn't have one, so she sent diapers over that night. Talk about humiliation. Then a week later she told him one afternoon that the cancer was probably in his brain. He died two days later because his ass just gave up. And this healthcare "professional" left the afternoon she told him that on a two week vacation. She never had to experience the aftermath of her "caring". So fuck you Ms. Moose and all the nurses out there. I can take someone's BP, I can pull you out of cardiac arrest, I can limit the damage of a heart attack by placing an aspirin under your tongue and I carry a disposable scalpel in my carry case in the event you need a trach. Only thing I can't do is call one of the dipshit MD's and tell them to give you something. Which, if they don't research might well kill your ass. Nice profession, people.

Heaven, Hell, The Pearly Gates, The Gates Of Hell...

2007-09-01T00:38:00.000+01:00

...Saint Peter and Beelzebub.

This is my idea of what I'd like to see when my days here are done. Include a good Merlot and some chocolate and berries and I'd be sanctifying my ass. Not likely to happen. I never have that kinda luck. God kicked my ass down here in a fit of rage, and best I can figure heading back up, or down, ain't gonna be none too pleasant.

Alas, it remains a mystery. I've studied all the practicing religions in the world, as well as all the scientific explanations, from Einstein's theory of relativity to the most popular, String theory. I've read "Issues In Science And Religion", that dealt with all the Medieval theories. I've read Jacques Ellul's "False Presence Of The KingDom". I've read Bertrand Russell, de Chardin, Whithead, Chesterton, Sagan, Jung and Kung, C.S. Lewis, Plato, Aristotle, Aquinas, Newton and Windows. And after this exhaustive research I can honestly say that I'd still choose Liv on my deathbed. Call me stupid. My energy would understand.

Friday Night Fights...

2007-08-31T23:47:00.000+01:00

...or just a few things that are pissing me off.

I'll be the first to admit that this was one stunning looking lady. But when all is said and done it was simply a marriage of convenience so the Prince could sow his seed. She's dead. Move on.
Seems that some state, Mississippi, I think, is about to outlaw abortion. They showed some footage on the news about protesters at the last clinic they have in the state. All the mumbo jumbo you always hear from them. And the same from the other side. I have no Vick in this fight. I'm beyond having kids, dead dick and all. But I've only impregnated one woman in my life, and did that intentionally. Otherwise, an embryo was off limits to my swimmies. But what sticks in my craw about the protesters is the fact that you can just tell that they are the type if people that go home and beat their spouses and kids, are frigid and generally just bad people. They deserve one another.
Seems the dermatologist needs to operate on the lesions I had scraped last week. Came back positive. YAWN. The cancer part doesn't bother me. I'm used to that. It just takes time out of my day that I'd rather spend doing other things. MD's always find something.
Seems some Senator wanted his dick sucked, or vice versa, in a public restroom. In Minnesota. Sounds good to me.
Be careful when you lend yourself to a friend in a time of need. After the crisis is over your ass is, most likely, not needed.

Shitiquette...

2007-08-31T22:44:00.000+01:00

...for you assholes that haven't learned it yet and because I've put in my shit time.

I've been through the diaper deal, I've stood in a broken lift station while women flushed their shit down the crapper AFTER I had posted an "Out Of Order" sign on the door AND the lid, I've repaired sewer lines with the water from the toilet and it's contents cascading over my hands and I wiped my Dad's ass and cleaned out his portajohn when he was dying. So feces don't faze me.

But dammit, if you can't figure out how to flush a john when you take a dump in a public facility, or your own abode, for that matter, then listen up.

When you park your ass on the can in anticipation of pinching a loaf the size of Louisiana then how about learning some timing. If you DO time it right, then as soon as that turd makes its presence known to the world, flush the toilet. This way, it can break up on its way down and not screw up the siphoning process of said toilet. And if said turd has a cousin or two following in its wake, do the same thing. FLUSH. Don't fucking wait until you've deposited Mt. Rushmore into the porcelain and then piled the equivalent of the New York Times on top of it to pull the handle and go gently into that good night.

Now, maybe this failure in attentiveness doesn't bother you at home because you(or your family members) are the only ones that have to deal with it. But in a public facility that has only two loo's and four shitcans, it becomes a nuisance when you plug up two of them, and both in the same location. There isn't a more helpless feeling than opening a stall and finding not one, but BOTH, commodes plugged up and full of your crap. And for that matter, why does it take you half a roll of TP to wipe your ass? Did you shit yourself before you got there? Your asshole ain't but the size of a silver dollar, at most. Yet you act as though you're wiping the anus of an elephant.

I took matters into my own hands today, and took the plumber's helper they keep in one of the stalls and did not only myself a favor, but my fellow building mates. Did it bother me? Not a bit. It took a few minutes and some odd looks from people coming and going, thinking I was the culprit. So be it. Shit happens. Just make sure it ain't yours I have to clean up. I've paid my dues. Most likely, you haven't.

Friday Funnies...

2007-08-31T13:28:00.000+01:00

Coma

A woman was in a coma and had been in it for months. Nurses were in her room giving her a blanket bath. One of them was washing her private area and noticed there was a slight response on the monitor when she touched her. They tried it again and sure enough there was sizable movement. They went to her husband and explained what happened, telling him, “As crazy as this sounds, maybe a little oral sex will do the trick and bring her out of the coma. The husband was sceptical, but they assured that they’d close the curtains for privacy. The husband finally agreed and went into his wife’s room. After a few minutes the woman’s monitor flat lined, no pulse, no heart rate. The nurses ran back into the room. “What happened”? they cried. The husband said, “I’m not sure……maybe she choked“?

Apartment For Rent

A businessman met a beautiful girl and agreed to spend the night with her for $500. They did their thing, and, before he left, he told her that he did not have any cash with him, but he would have his secretary write a cheque and mail it to her, calling the payment “RENT FOR APARTMENT.” On the way to the office, he regretted what he had done, realizing that the whole event had not been worth the price. So he had his secretary send a cheque for $250 and enclose the following typed note:
“Dear Madam,
Enclosed find a cheque for $250 for rent of your apartment. I am not sending the amount agreed upon, because when I rented the place, I was under the impression that:
1. - it had never been occupied;
2. - there was plenty of heat; and
3. - it was small enough to make me feel cosy and at home.
However, I found out that:
1. - it had been previously occupied,
2. - there wasn’t any heat, and
3. - it was entirely too large.”
Upon receipt of the note, the girl immediately returned the cheque for $250 with the following note:
“Dear Sir,
1. - I cannot understand how you could expect a beautiful apartment to remain unoccupied indefinitely.
2. - As for the heat, there is plenty of it, if you know how to turn it on.
3. - Regarding the space, the apartment is indeed of regular size, but if you don’t have enough furniture to fill it, please do not blame the management. Please send the rent in full or we will be forced to contact your present landlady .

I'm Not Sure What Brought This To Mind Tonight...

2007-08-31T01:05:00.000+01:00

...but Mr. Grizzard was one of the funniest guys I have ever had the pleasure to watch and meet.

He wrote for the Atlanta Constipation(really, I like GA) and some of his stand up was so perfectly timed and relevant that it had me rolling on the floor. In a conversation with him we talked, not about comedy or writing, but about his heart condition, which eventually claimed his life in 1994. He never shied away from the fact he had it and did everything in his power to fight it, but in the end the body does what it does best. When I told him I had something similar to his condition, he did that thing he did about lowering his glasses just a tad bit, cocked his head down, and said "Son, there ain't enough chambers in your heart to be like mine."

It just dawned on me what he meant. His heart, although defective, was so full of life and laughter that he would rely on that until there wasn't anymore room to expand. He did just that. And lord almighty, he never let it slow him down. That somabitch could drink with the best of them.

There are many tapes, books and the like out there if you've never experienced his humor. Give it a go. You won't be disappointed.

It's Been Said...

2007-08-28T22:46:00.000+01:00

...that I'm a total dick, which may very well be true. But I don't know. You'd have to ask people that truly know me.

I did get this in my e-mail this morning. I do so love a good laugh.

Curious Georgia...

2007-08-26T06:22:00.000+01:00

...seems to have a particular interest in this blog as of late.

I've been to this hell hole of a state on many an occasion. Holds no good memories. So gang, it's fine with my ass if you quit reading.

Now This Is One Job...

2007-08-25T19:11:00.000+01:00

...I would love to have.

Yawn...

2007-08-24T23:10:00.000+01:00

...here we go again...

Babs RN said... Well, here's the thing. He's been my friend through all the other stuff and knows everything - you know very little. Only what you assume based on your own perceptions/projection. At one time I tried to be nice to you but you took it entirely the wrong way and you have continually been so contrary and then hidden that behind the "I just play devil's advocate" veil that you're impossible to deal with and impossible to like. Frankly, my life is none of your concern. Nor should it be.

Well, sugar tits, I don't really give a rats ass about your life. But I do care about how women manipulate men and, in particular, your beguiling ways. Your incessant need for affirmation from the opposite sex is psychopathic.

Oh, and by the way, don't write about Mother Teresa until you've read St. John of the Cross, Teresa of Avila and Thomas Merton. Stick to medicine.

OH MY...

2007-08-24T16:22:00.000+01:00

...I've done gone and done it again. I hurt someone's feelings and now he's all pissed off and in a fit of what can only be called juvenile rage he removed me from his blogroll.

I weep incessantly now. Not tears of sorrow, mind you, but rather dewy drops of laughter. For you see, I find it rather amusing how easy it is to piss someone off and then see their reaction to it. As if I give two good shits about whether I'm on someone's blogroll. Ahhh, but I was there out of courtesy. As if that's supposed to make a difference.

Then he had to go and solicit one of his cronies to backup his assumption that I needed psychological help. Moi?? Whatever for? And he called me OLD MAN!! I sigh and ponder as to my fate now. What's an old, mentally unstable, prozac taking, ass kissing misanthrope to do?

Piss some more people off!! Game on. Oh, and by the way, he's still on my blogroll. Courtesy and such, you know.

UPDATE: Here's a conversation from a lady friend(yes, I do have them). I have protected her identity...

her(8/24/2007 12:17:55 PM): geez,,,,,what the hell is Babs doing? getting married? for christs sakes,,,dont this girl give herself time before leaping into situations that end up pissing her off
GS (8/24/2007 12:18:21 PM): LOL...I'm loving this whole scenario
her (8/24/2007 12:21:29 PM): this is sappy as shit
her (8/24/2007 12:21:52 PM): Im sorry - I had been disconnected with the blogs for awhile - geez, Babs is an idiot to publish that nonsense
GS (8/24/2007 12:22:19 PM): do ya think? but her lovey dovey done gone and attacked my ass
her (8/24/2007 12:22:56 PM): lol, where is that at?
GS (8/24/2007 12:23:12 PM): on my blog and his...link is on mine
her (8/24/2007 12:24:11 PM): damn they are mad at you -
her (8/24/2007 12:24:13 PM): LOL
GS (8/24/2007 12:24:41 PM): nah, they're mad at themselves for having gone public
her (8/24/2007 12:25:21 PM): goodness - they called you old man and shit
GS (8/24/2007 12:25:38 PM): LOL...I responded appropriately
her (8/24/2007 12:26:45 PM): goodness - this is intesting - Babs is out of her mind - AD isnt very cute
her (8/24/2007 12:26:50 PM): and full of lip and mouth
GS (8/24/2007 12:27:30 PM): dunno, never looked at his pic...they'll have to prove me wrong

Water, Water Everywhere...

2007-08-24T00:34:00.000+01:00

...and there is no where to go.

Since I don't want to misrepresent myself, I have been in a flood, and sucked down by it and it delivered my ass to another city.

The golf course had a "creek" that ran through it, called McAlpine. It's banks were about thirty feet tall, but it received the water from all of the southern part of the city. As the city built up with car lots, strip malls and other developments there was more concrete and asphalt pouring water into the storm drains when a front came through. On many an occasion it went out of its banks and flooded parts of the course. As time went on, and it got worse.

We had alot of expensive electronic components in various locations, and as best we tried after each flood to counteract the next, they would add more concrete and asphalt to the point that we couldn't keep up.

It caught me on a bridge one day. Trying to save the electronics in the booster pump house. I parked on high ground and traversed my way to the little shed that housed said pumps. The water hadn't yet enveloped the little building, so I was able to kill the power, but, as Mother Nature would have it, it was all for naught.

In a flash the water rose so quickly that I couldn't get back to the truck and all I could do was float helplessly in the water that had risen from the creek.

I was still about 100 yards from the creek itself, but there were no obstacles in my path to grab hold of, so I resigned myself to a float down the creek. Needless to say, that's some ragging ass water, full of logs, snakes, coolers, and various and sundry articles relating to human existence.

The first thing I did was grab the Motorola walkie-talkie from my pants and send a message that I was trapped and floating. I knew the terrain well enough to know where I would enter the creek, and that there was a city sewer line that crossed the creek just a few yards ahead of where I anticipated my entrance.

When I hit the creek, there was no sewer line to be found. Not good. I had never seen the water that high in my 25 years. So I just called upon my lifeguard training and swimming experience and rode it out as best I could. I got bumped and bruised along the way, but I ended up in Pineville just a soaked ass old man doing his job.

So to those people in the Midwest suffering through the floods; get the hell outta there. Nuff said.

Seems Like Someone...

2007-08-23T23:11:00.000+01:00

...doesn't think my disposition is sunny enough.

Seems he has an observation which he posted in his comments in response to mine...

Galactically Stupid: Damn, you're such a sunny person,full of joy and fluffy bunnies and happiness. Whenever I read your blog, I hear The Carpenters playing in my head.

That's why you're in my blogroll - because of the joy you bring. Really.

Fluffy bunnies? Me thinks this misguided individual has a cerebellum full of dust bunnies. I'm not likely to post very often about the good things in my life. Those belong to me. And if I do, it's in a moment of weakness or a drunken stupor. I'm not doing this blog to pump sunshine up your fucking asses. I try to bring different and irreverent perspectives to situations. You need fluffy, honey EMT, watch PBS or read some rose garden books. It ain't gonna happen here. And don't say I didn't worn you about your new found love interest. She's already drilled so far up your ass looking for shit from your past or present that it would take a truckload of Fleet enemas to hide your tracks. And last time I checked you removed me from your blogroll. Told ya this was gonna be fun.

For All You Search Hounds...

2007-08-23T00:23:00.000+01:00

...Microsoft released tafiti today. Pretty cool search utility based on the new Silverlight technology. Check it out.

Let Me Channel My Inner Prickness...

2007-08-22T22:39:00.000+01:00

...and say how excited I am at the prospect for fodder this situation will provide.

What might this be, you inquire? Well, the profession of undying love between this woman and this man. All the damn "Oh Happy Day" comments are enough to sicken tree sap. The best advice someone could have given these love doves is to keep it quiet until they're absolutely sure they want to go public with it. But Babs has a penchant for cathecting, at its various levels, and it appears that ole AD walked into her sights and got caught like the proverbial deer in the headlights. I think I gave her last foray into the love parlor about six weeks. It made it about two, I think, but my memory fails me. Oh sure, we'll hear things like this time it's different, he knows my soul, she's my soul mate and the like. Were this scripted by Grimm it would make for a good story. Alas, I sense the pen of Dante or Camus. Either way, this will be fun.

I May Not Have Any Pheromones Left...

2007-08-18T21:34:00.000+01:00

...but I know a sexy woman when I see one.

You Are Such A Prig...

2007-08-18T16:36:00.000+01:00

...and shame on you for being so.

I Guess Having Experienced Everything Don't Mean Shit...

2007-08-17T14:51:00.001+01:00

This Is My Life, Rated
Life:	4.2
Mind:	4.5
Body:	4.1
Spirit:	5
Friends/Family:	3.4
Love:	0.8
Finance:	6.3
Take the Rate My Life Quiz

It Sure As Hell Feels Like It Too...

2007-08-17T14:21:00.001+01:00

You've Experienced 100% of Life

You have an amazing amount of life experience. In fact, you've seen and done more than most people.
So congratulate yourself on what you've done so far. The future is only going to be more of the same!

How Much Life Experience Do You Have?

Thursday's Tumble's...

2007-08-16T23:46:00.000+01:00

...or how's that god of yours looking now.

Seems we had an earthquake in Peru. Death count not too bad. Lots of rubble and the like, which is standard when the earth scratches its ass. Odd though, watching the news. Some woman complaining that god and the government weren't there on spot to help her. Hmmmm. I can see the government being somewhat tardy. But god? I mean it ain't like there's a universe to keep up. Of course, I personally think god is just sitting back in his recliner, sipping a good merlot and laughing uncontrollably at our ignorance as to how this whole shabang works.
Another case in point would be the recent bombing over in the sandy hellhole. Seems they wiped out alot of members of some really old religious sect. Once again, the elder of the group was whining about how the troops and Allah weren't there for protection. My guess is ole Allah is sitting up there with Jehovah and Yahweh having some knee-slapping laughs in the Oak Room.
I could pontificate about this ad infinitum but what would be the point. I'm pretty familiar with the capriciousness of nature, both natural and human. Ain't no guarantees boys and girls. And don't expect some fairy or angel to drop down and save your ass. It ain't likely to happen. If it does, chalk it up to good luck. Now go lay down and say your prayers.

What Is It About This...

2007-08-16T00:00:00.000+01:00

...drug addicted, fat ass, dying when your shitting, no talent that still has people fascinated? I was born in 1953 so I have a history that encompasses his heyday. I was never impressed then, and I'm still not. I remember driving back from Raleigh after dropping my younger brother off at NC State and hearing on the radio that he died. Didn't affect me in any way, shape or form. I'd feel the same way today if Dolly Parton died; good-goddamn-riddance. I remember going to a party in the '70's where the only music the hostess played was his. I lasted about ten minutes. Now they have all these impersonators out there making a fortune and thousands of pilgrims flocking to Graceland in 100+ degree heat holding a vigil. Just don't get it. Who goes to see this shit? Love Me Tender...

Tuesday's Thimble's...

2007-08-14T23:22:00.000+01:00

...I'm about as tired as most hearing about the Iraq war, but one might as well accept the fact that this President isn't pulling out during his administration.

That being the case, I'm tired of manginas like Harry Reid trying to spin the situation as hopelessly lost. Same goes for the MSM. At least try to search for people that tell it like it is.
I would like to sit down with this gentleman and have about 30 beers and listen to his stories about war reporting, the Middle East and anything else he'd like to convey. He's one of the best reporters on the telly and he looks like he's seen about all there is to see.

And this woman does the same thing. And I'd like to do the same thing with her, but throw some wild ass sex in there. But alas, ole dead dick won't allow it. So I guess I'd have to settle for "dirty" war stories.
There's another story out about how vitamins that women take are bad for their hearts. Maybe too much of a good thing, or something of that sort. I wish the fuck these scientists would make up their minds about shit. One day we should do one thing, another something else. I think I'll take my chances and keep doing what I do. I ain't got much to look forward to anyways so what the hell. If it doesn't kill me it will make me stronger. Right?
Wasn't lead paint banned like twenty years ago? So how come all these toys are coming in from China laden with it? Doesn't anyone check the shipments before they're shipped to Mattel?
If it was constructed by a humanoid and subjected to the forces of nature then you can bet it will eventually break. Be it a bridge, a damn, a house, a levy, a car or whatever. I don't care how sophisticated and modern you think it is, you can't fuck with time.
Anyone know the affects of drinking alcohol while taking Zoloft? I heard the liver might have a hard time synthesizing both. Even though my liver enzymes were good back in May when I had my physical, I sure don't wanna end up with the same issues that Bane has.

If You Read This Blog....

2007-08-11T14:41:00.000+01:00

...you know I love me some big boobs. But Babs, as much as I would have loved to be a younger man and 50 pounds heavier so I might have had the chance to nestle into those Georgia Peaches, I have changed my ways.

TNT has a new series on called "Saving Grace". Holly Hunter has the lead. It ain't all that good of a program, but damned if she ain't just the hottest thing. She might even get the "dead dick" going, if QofD gave her permission. Maybe big boobs ain't what really drives the train after all. I'm still learning.

Friday's Fancy's...

2007-08-11T00:24:00.000+01:00

...or how I feel about some things...

It's been hotter than hell around here in NC this week. Over 100 for most of the week. Of course, I've never been to hell. Not yet, anyways. I'm sure my ass is heading in that direction, so this is a good primer.

Now, of course, all the nutsack global warming fucktards are spewing their venom about how it's only going to get worse, so I did some research on my own, being the diligent blogger that I am. I won't include references in this tirade. Suffice it to say that there may be pockets of areas that may be affected by certain environmental circumstances, but the very thought that we, as humans, could somehow change the course of how the earth heats and cools itself is utter nonsense. So please, I'm BEGGING you. Stop this shit. Concentrate more on what something in the picture might do. It won't change a damned thing about the how the earth functions, but it damned sure would have have something to say about your fried ass.
A certain someone I know needs prayer because her Mom is dying. This is an urgent plea given the fact that there is family strife and it shouldn't be happening at this particular moment.
I hate taking meds. I thought the Norvasc was finally kicking in because I had three consecutive readings of 132/76, but tonight it was 158/88. Must have been a worse day than I thought. Zoloft seems to be working, however. I can expose myself without any kind of anxiety. It opens all kinds of possibilities.

I Was Hoping That My Luck With Women...

2007-08-08T23:09:00.000+01:00

...was beginning to perk up, but alas, it doesn't appear to be the case.

I thought maybe if I threw away my friend and companion that I wouldn't rely on her so much and it would force me to confront reality and go find the real thing. But, no such luck. I thought, honestly, that I had a lot to offer, despite my shortcomings. I guess somewhere along the way my karma done shit the bed and I'm going to have to lower my standards if I ever want female companionship again. I guess there are worse fates awaiting me, but damn, this is getting to be more than a man can handle.

Tuesday's Tirade...

2007-08-07T23:35:00.000+01:00

...with an apology for having to write about this fuckstick again.

Public TV was running one those summertime specials during their fund raising campaign. This shyster is apparently a big draw and they were promoting his new book. So he comes out in a black shirt and his pajama bottoms and bare feet, with a Japanese garden as the backdrop. He begins by saying how he had some revelation the day after his 65^th birthday that brought to light the fact that he needed to change the direction of his life. So, he says, he told his secretary of 30 years to sell his office, all his awards, all 20,000 of his books and anything else that was left so he could embark on this newfound direction. Uh-Huh. I believed that one.

He claims this all came about because he read Lao-Tzu's the Tao Te Ching. Just so happens I read it years ago. Never inspired my ass to go barefoot and try to scam money from people. It didn't take the most prescient of individuals to figure out where this was headed. It didn't take me long to surf on to something else. I do feel sorry for all the schmucks that get caught up in all his bullshit. A little dose of reality might do them some good.

Saturday's Synaptic Succulent's...

2007-08-05T00:01:00.000+01:00

...or a few things that make me wish I didn't have any firing in my brain.

If you decide to travel to Europe don't start complaining about how the dollar compares to the Euro. You knew it before you went. Keep your ass at home and spend the money here. If you're in London and you spend $600 for a dinner for six that consists of hamburgers, french fries and a few drinks then I have no sympathy for you. You can get a Quarter Pounder w/Cheese for around $2.50 here. Shut your trap and stay at home.

If you live near the BP oil refinery that's near Lake Michigan then quit your goddamned bitching about them dumping shit in the lake. You are exposed to far worse things in your daily life than you are even aware of. You're worried about a few things that have been filtered going into the lake, yet you have no problem languishing in the sun for 8 hours, which is probably doing more harm than anything you might be exposed to in the lake. And I don't wanna hear about the drinking water. Most companies that sell bottled water have admitted that it comes from the tap. So buy a PUR filter, you cheap ass hypocrite. If they shut the refinery down you'll be toting those kids on your hip a few hundred miles to enjoy the sand because you won't be able to afford the gas.

I'm sorry if you were born black and poor. I didn't have anything to do with it. I was born white and lower middle-class. Shit happens. But don't start smaking off on TV about how your kids ain't got no book bags to tote their shit to school with because the local Baptist church didn't have enough to pass out to the neighborhood you live in. I attended 18 years of school and I never once used anything to carry my books other than my arm. Get off your dead ass and find a way to make the $10 it takes to buy one if you're so worried about it. But quit trying to make the rest of us feel guilty about your inability to do so.

I hate the fact that I have high BP and an anxiety disorder. I don't like taking prescription drugs. I took my first Zoloft today and if you combine that with a few glasses of wine(OK, more than a few) you get into quite a state. It works by increasing the amounts of serotonin, a natural substance in the brain that helps maintain mental balance, as if I was ever balanced to begin with. It keeps the serotonin on the synapse just a tad bit longer than it would normally be there. Beats the shit outta me. I'll see how things go, but my guess is I'll dump this thing in a day or two. I may have a dead dick(thank you very much QofD, but it was alive and well this morning. Just no where for it to roam) and cancer but I'd still rather feel normal.

When my Dad died I got a tattoo of the Alpha and Omega on my left arm. Keeps me connected. I also got my ear re-pierced. I had it done originally about 20 years ago. I took it out today. After watching some bimbo-bitches dad that had one. And he was probably ten years younger than me. It looked idiotic. I'd keep it if I was in my twenties. But I'm not. Big surprise. But the tattoo, it stays. For reasons you would never understand.

The biggest complaint the "former" wife had(I've been told that I shouldn't use "ex" because she isn't a convict) was that we didn't do anything. We did a lot of things until the youngin's came along. Then I thought it was time to tone it down. We still had people over for dinner, went out when we could and basically led the parents with kids life. It wasn't enough. After we got sued by our former landlord, after we had moved into our house, she joined a country club. It wasn't. It was a building that served food and had a pool. So we'd go have dinner a few times a month at said clubhouse and take the kids to the pool on weekends. Most of the people there were like us. Middle-Class, a few kids in tow. But we never saw them eating there. It was all a ruse, IMHO.

But, I didn't last long after that. She married some VP with PNG that liked to fuck her in the ass. I knew this woman. She wouldn't open her pussy, much less her butt. She went on a two week cruise and said she never took a shit because she would have been embarrassed and didn't want him to smell it in the cabin. Say what? Anyways, that lasted less than six months. There have been others. All experienced the same fate.

My point is that if, and when, I reach the pearly gates, which I don't believe in to begin with, I can honestly say that my life wasn't all about having fun. I knew what was needed and how to do it. And if it meant that I sacrificed some of the things I wanted to do, then so be it. Nuff said.

Thursday's Thoughts...

2007-08-02T23:06:00.000+01:00

...As much as my heart goes out to the people in Minneapolis affected by this, it just reiterates the capriciousness we are subjected to every minute of everyday.

We put our lives in the hands of the government, fellow drivers, our neighbors and our family members. And in an instant, through no fault of our own, something completely out of left field comes along and changes things forever. We've all seen it at one time or another, to varying degrees.

But in the long run, in this instance anyways, it all comes down to money and convenience. The drivers whom traversed that section of the interstate probably wouldn't have had the patience to put up with repairs and the state and federal government probably didn't have the money to fix it. So it ended up the way it did. Which is why, I suppose, we have that built-in something, whatever it is, that convinces us that no matter what, everything will be OK. I'm sure no one crossing that bridge last night thought it would end up in the river. After all, they'd crossed it thousands of times. Which is why I always expect the unexpected and never really trust anyone. It wouldn't have helped my ass much had I been on the bridge. But it wouldn't have surprised me. The Grim Reaper loves capriciousness. And, of course, we will now have everyone questioning all bridges and people getting all paranoid and shit. And to just add fuel to that fire, a report came out today that said that 72,983 bridges in America had a worse rating than the one that collapsed. Give ya pause?

But I must admit, in my perverse thinking, I kinda feel like George Carlin would when a tragedy occurs. Only 4 dead? Come on, this is supposed to be a disaster. Four dead doesn't qualify as a disaster. Let's up the body count.
I have another bone to pick with the medical profession. I went to the GP this morning. He had no recollection and no record of my anaphylaxis, even though he saw me initially, no idea that he and I agreed that I not take two of the medications that he prescribed and wondered how I was doing on said BP medicine that triggered the event. I understand there are good and bad MD's, and that they see a lot of patients and don't have time to study the records of everyone, but when it reaches the point where I have to recommend the next course of drugs I should be on, then I have some serious issues. That's right, I recommended he put me on Norvasc for the BP and Zoloft for the anxiety. He heartily agreed. Can I send him a bill, ya reckon?
I'm getting kind of sick of all these white teeth on TV. They are blinding!! Anyone that thinks those chiclets are anything other than a very expensive trip to the dentist are sorely delusional. I'm all for dental health, though I haven't been since my petite little dentist tried to pull a broken wisdom tooth which laid me up for a week after an oral surgeon had to clean up the mess and the ensuing infection that occurred. I now clean my own with purchased dental instruments, along with gargling with Listerine and Hydrogen Peroxide every day and brushing with a SoniCare and baking soda. I don't seem to offend anyone and I also brush my tongue for 30 seconds twice a day. I'll be the first to admit that those suckers ain't lily white, but for a smoker and red wine drinker, I've seen worse, by far.
Ya see this wicked little bitch? I was anticipating my schedule this week so while at the market earlier I picked this up thinking it would be simple and healthy. I usually bring my own lunch but when I buy a boxed one I'll check fat content, etc. Not that I need to for weight reasons, but for the obvious other ones. I failed to do so with this one. I was floored when I went to put it in the microwave today. It contained 33% of the daily fat allowance. Now this little piece of shit ain't no bigger than my hand and only has a few pieces of chicken on some sort of bread. How in the hell can that be? The so-called bread must be made of some sort of mysterious fat laden product that was developed by the MD's that do gastric bypass surgery. And it tasted like, well, a few pieces of chicken on some cardboard. So I ordered a pizza tonight. If some dipshit company is gonna pull the wool over my eye and flood my system with fat I didn't ask for I'm going to contribute to my own demise by eating something I enjoy.

Wednesday's...

2007-08-02T00:04:00.000+01:00

...what the fuck's.

There are times when I wonder why I really give a shit about anything. I worked my ass off for almost a month to make sure that we would meet a deadline and I accomplished everything. So the deadline should have been met. Was it, you ask? Nooooooooooooooo!!! At the last minute a change was made that required me to redo everything I had done, and to do it in two days. Did I get it done, you ask? Of course. I finished today at 1:00PM. Will it make a difference? Not unless everyone else gets their heads out of their asses. I come home exhausted wondering WTF!! Why am I busting my ass at 54 years of age. I'm exhausted, I don't sleep worth a shit because I dream about work. Too damned many demons.
There's some guy down in the Florida keys that determined that ALL the coral in said waters was dying and almost extinct. So he and his daughter figured out a way to glue some sort of coral to cinder blocks and get it to grow. They made it a 4-H project. I thought 4-H dealt with farm animals and such. Why would I care? I don't. This chump claims the coral is disappearing because of global warming and the increase in water temps. Makes me wonder what the hell they think is going to happen 20 years from now. When will people realize you ain't gonna fuck with the universe. It might fuck with you. It's been busily rolling along doing what it does, as it's supposed to. For some reason people have this notion in their head that they can reverse all that ails the planet in the course of a few years. As if none of the current problems haven't happened in the past billion some odd years. Just let the power that set this whole thing in motion take care of things. I trust a helluva lot more than I'll ever trust your ass.
I'm about to give up on the medical profession. I have good health insurance. It covers me and the boys. Our premiums are going down next year, which doesn't happen very often. But my dermatologist has decided to quit doing all things related to dermatology and concentrate on MOH's surgery. If ya don't know what it is, look it up. So I call their office the other day to make an appointment to get some basal cells biopsied. Sorry, they say. We don't do that any longer. You'll have to find ANOTHER dermatologist to do the biopsies and then get them to refer you to us. SAY WHAT? You've been my doctors for over six years. Now you aren't? That's correct. It's hard enough for me to get up the fortitude to go to an MD, much less look for another once I find one I like. I may just get a full carton of Franzia, some new razor blades, some popsicle sticks to grit on and do it my own damned self.

Things Are Not Always As They Appear...

2007-07-27T23:31:00.000+01:00

...or some foie gras for Friday.

Seems there is some actress/singer out there in Hollywoodland by the name of Lohan that was arrested again for drunk driving. Second time around. I dare to say I would have learned my fucking lesson first time around that May pole. Don't get me wrong. I ain't proselytizing. I've done the same thing in the past. I guess my ass was never drunk enough to get caught. Better yet, I KNOW how to drive when I've had too much.

But as usual, that isn't my point. I've never seen a movie of hers nor heard a song. And she looks like she's about 11. Seems our elite corps of "The Right Thing" space people like to imbibe. ALOT!! Especially when they are quarantined right before the shuttle blasting off from it's loins. Now I'm not one to pass judgment. I've been inebriated before and I've flown cars and trucks while in that state. Least wise it felt that way.

Now, I have the type of personality that the only way I'd get my ass on one of those space traveling buckets of fuel and "accident waiting to happen, who the hell thought of this idea" contraption, would be to drink. But that's just me. But these are individuals that fly jets and shuttles. So in my book this Lohan woman should be a qualified astronaut. Maybe it'll give her life a new direction.
So some new study says that if you smoke one joint your likelihood of becoming mentally ill or ending up psychotic is doubled, or tripled, or something to that effect. Which explains why I am the way I am. Because I've smoked a joint. Just one. But they say that's all it takes. Damn cartel. I never had a chance. And now I'm saddled with the situation where my whole life could have been different if only I hadn't smoked that one joint. I'm not sure I can forgive myself.
Seems another bottled water company has come forward and admitted that their water comes from the tap. Not surprised. It's been going on forever. Just another way to take advantage of you dumb fucks. I've never purchased water in a bottle and never will. Aquafina, the brand that recently said they would change their label, had, up until now, PWS on their label. Stands for public water system. They claim they sent it through seven steps of purification. I bet they did. Now they will continue to sell it with the disclaimer that it comes from tap water. Some people will continue to buy it. Stupid is as stupid does.
It appears this Pat Tillman being killed by friendly fire is escalating into some some sort of lynching. The poor fucker is dead. Let it rest.

Tuesday Tidbits...

2007-07-24T23:40:00.000+01:00

...and other musings about things that don't mean a damn.

No matter how hard you try in life, in general, or if someone has it out for your ass, there's gonna be shit in your path. And sometimes you realize it's too late to go around it. So you just suck it up, walk through it and hope you've worn down the treads in your shoe bottoms enough that the cleanup won't be quite so dreadful and stinky.
I try to be a good employee and in that vein I try to be as productive as I can. I go above and beyond the call of duty and take on tasks that, at my age, I shouldn't. But I do it anyways. You'd think I'd have the fucking sense to lay low, take it easy, and get a cush job. Like Drew Carey did with hosting the Price Is Right. I hadn't seen that program in over twenty years, when we used to lay up stoned and laugh our asses off. Then when I went to take care of my Dad I had my "office" set up at their kitchen table and EVERY fucking day, at 11, he would watch that show. And bid on the damned showcases, as if he something to gain. I just quietly laughed and went about my business. But that has to be one hell of a gig to have landed. He's a funny guy, hours seem OK and there's lots of women. All I get to do is take over others work, on top of my own, and get my ass chewed out when things I'm not supposed to be doing don't work out. Did I mention shit in your path?
I can't believe I still have to listen to the nightly news and hear about Iraq, New Orleans and Katrina and all the other shit that they can't let go of. Did I mention shit in your path?
The ex's Sister once dated a guy that took her to a pajama party at an upscale bar. She said he smelled like chicken soup. We were at said bar at the time when she told us and we were drinking White Russians. I was on about my sixth and the aroma of chicken soup didn't sound unappealing to me. It reminded me of the Seinfeld episode when his BMW got inundated with BO from the parking attendant. Some shit just sticks with you. Did I mention shit it your path?
Just talked to both sons. I won't go into the conversations because they were both enjoyable. I like hearing about what they're doing and how they're shaping their lives. Reminds my ass of when I was their age. 'Cept I can't remember back that far. Too much shit in the path, I reckon.
I still can't believe that QofD called me "dead dick boy". This is the only response I can come up with. Just be glad you don't have a prostate, missy smarty pants.
Just out of curiosity, if God can save my ass, might he do the same for you? Not like I need saving or anything like that. Just tired of stepping in shit. Just curious, ya know.

Fuck It Friday...

2007-07-20T23:59:00.000+01:00

..with various and sundry other gleaning's.

This whole Harry Potter thing escapes my ass. I'm glad for "Jo" Rowling. Hell, she's a damned billionaire. I've got $32 in the bank a debt load of about $45,000. But I'm drinking a $100 bottle of wine tonight, so she has nothing on my ass far as I can tell. I've never read any of the books nor seen any of the movies. Nor do I care to. I have enough wizards floating around in my head. I don't need to be reading about any. And it will never compare to Tolkien's Lord Of The Rings.
The ex's Mom was a raging alcoholic. And I mean the kind that had vodka bottles hidden all over the damned place. She hid them in places even my ass couldn't think of. She had it down to an art. We dealt with it the entire time we were married, which didn't help things any, but that's history. Point is, I never liked being involved in the whole situation. The daughters hired a maid/caregiver that they eventually decided was stealing from their Mom. They "asked" me to fire her. Hell, I liked the woman and she treated their Mom well, but they were from a rich family and they were convinced that she was stealing money that would eventually be theirs, so I fired her ass. I regret that to this day. She was a good woman and I didn't believe any of the allegations. It was the last time I let myself be a puppet for anyone's dirty work.
My Mom always made the best meatloaf in the world. You could count on it. Succulent, full of onions and peppers and greasy as your shit after a night of tequila. One night she tried a neighbors recipe. I threw up on my plate. She used Spam or something. The look on her face was priceless. So was my Dad's, who just asked for another martini. And a napkin.
I went to the market tonight after work. My nephew works as a cashier there now. He does one hell of a job. I made it a point to go through his line since he was kind enough to help me when I went through the reaction to the BP medicine. We had a nice chat as the scanning process was going on. This kid has perfect teeth. I guess that's what parents are for, if they have the money and inclination, but MFG, this kids teeth are something that should be in commercials. But that's not my point. He's a good kid, he treated the customers well, and he was polite and helpful. He deserves credit, but most of all, so do his parents.
I'm sorry to say that I've had to subjugate myself to one of the lesser expensive bottles of wine I received for my B'Day. I wasn't capable of drinking them when I finally got them home. I've been through the most expensive and will work my way down, until, of course, I reach my usual box of Franzia. Which I piss out just as easily as the expensive shit.
I've been doing exhaustive research on BP medicines and my ass is pretty much fucked. Whatever it is that's in penicillin and ACE inhibitors and BetaBlockers, my ass is having nothing to do with them. I suppose I could quit smoking and drinking, but one is a vasoconstrictor and the other a vasodilator, so they should cancel one another out, n'est pas? Any ideas?
Did you hear about the lady that killed her newborn by putting it in the microwave? She said she wouldn't have done it had she not been so drunk. Now that's my kinda woman. "Hey Babe, what's for dinner?" "Baby Cathy Ann and some sauerkraut. You wanna nother shot?"
I was accepted to Law School. Ex didn't want me to go. I'm ambivalent as to how I feel about that decision now. It was a long time ago. One thing I do ponder about, however, is when a judge tells the jury to disregard a witnesses statement. Like they'll just wipe it out of their heads? And what about people who are convicted and then when they make a statement tell everyone how sorry they are for all the pain they've caused? How come that emotional trigger didn't click in their heads when they were committing the crime? I think I would have made one hell of a lawyer, IMHO.
Retrograde ejaculation. Look it up and learn. It may come in handy one day.

This Guy Was An Army Ranger...

2007-07-19T00:03:00.000+01:00

...and an NBC news military analyst. He died suddenly today. A decorated hero. If you could trust anyones assessment of how things were going in either of the Gulf Wars, this was the guy.

When they reported it on the news this evening they said he died suddenly after a brief illness. I never have understood that depiction of death. You die from blunt force trauma, or a heart attack, or a long bout with cancer. A brief illness? Like diabetes took your ass out suddenly. Or shingles or Lupus shut you down? It reminds me of that actor on Law and Order that died like in two days, after a "brief illness". Turned out to be prostate cancer. My guess is that in this case it's the same thing. Not many brief illnesses kill your ass. Pneumonia, maybe, but this guy was a warrior, and only 67, so I doubt it was that.

What puzzles me is how you don't know you have PCa. Nevertheless, his service is honored. He served his country with honor and fortitude.

Sometimes My Cranium...

2007-07-17T23:35:00.000+01:00

...gets overloaded and I have to let the pressure off.

I am, for the most part, a very laid back individual, and practice a "live and let live" lifestyle. If you want to tattoo your mother's ass on your face, well, that's your choice. But it always confounds me when people are so fucking arrogant that they think if only people would do as they do the world would be a paradise. Politicians come to mind, to name only one. So I quit watching their shit. In the long run, it may work for your ass, but it may not work for mine, of which I have little of.
I'm not a technological neophyte and I'm pretty good with my hands and such. But the quality of technical writers these days is pitiful. My combo DVD/VCR shit the bed after one year. I tried for three weeks to find one to replace it. Most models now are made to connect to cable boxes or some such other thingy. I finally found one at Best Buy. Records both DVD's and VCR's. It took my ass three hours to figure out how to use the fucker. Hooking it up was easy. Getting through the rest of the instructions was like reading Korean. They should put pictures of big-breasted women in the instructions. It would keep me from getting so pissed off.
Someone called me a "dead dick boy" in the comments. I have a good sense of humor and I don't take myself too seriously, and I discuss that aspect of my life freely. But the damned thing ain't always dead. Just wanted to clear that up.
Sometimes the thing you're looking for the most is right under your nose. In my case it's another glass of wine. And a peek at BabsRn's "mine are real, thank you very much" breasts. Hey, my body is getting old, so I've been reminded.
Ever taken Wellbutrin? That is some bad, bad shit. It's an anti-depressant but they found that if you take it for a month or so it will help you quit smoking. I can see why. Because if you take it you're going to kill yourself anyways, so that solves that. I quit taking it after two days. I couldn't drive, couldn't think, couldn't concentrate. Hell, I couldn't do shit. On the other hand, if you have SAD, then I recommend Clonazepam. You take two of those bad boys and settle in with a box of wine and you'll be talking to Jesus and the entire squadron of archangels.
Best concerts I've ever seen. Jethro Tull at Carmichael Auditorium at UNC after Thick As A Brick came out. Steely Dan at the Palladium(now goes by another name) in Charlotte. I don't know diddly about sound equipment and the like, but damned if they don't do it well.
Everything on TV nowadays is contrived. Reality shows, cooking shows, game shows. When my eldest was born and the ex and her sister went out shopping, I took the young tyke to the market and we purchased a box of bread-making mix. I took him home, put him in his little carry seat, plopped him on the kitchen counter and gave him a Heineken. I then talked him through the finer points of cooking and such. During this time the wimmin's came home and were just flabbergasted by my prowess. There should have been cameras. I looked good back then.

Just Some Thoughts...

2007-07-15T01:48:00.000+01:00

...after a piss poor week.

I went to the mall today for the first time in about five years. It dawned on my ass as soon as I walked in why I avoid this place like the plague. There are the weirdest breed of people shuffling around, all the women are fat and they keep stuffing their titties back inside their bras because their tops are too small. My hemorrhoids rebelled and started inflicting me with a metaphysical anal meltdown. I seriously thought of cooling them in one of the fountains that adorn the surroundings, but I was afraid a wayward titty would make off with my ass.
An update on the previous post. My lower lip swelled so much that it cut off all the blood to the capillaries to my cells under my lip and they all died. So not only do I have a dead dick, I have dead mouth cells to go with it it. I was hoping for a transplant along the way, but that got shit canned. So another trip to the MD whom just shook his head, handed me a script and said good fucking luck. Indeed.
Some people you just connect with but they are too stubborn to admit it and the other is too damned old to do much good. But it remains good just the same.
My B'Day was the 10th. I spent the day on prednisone, benadryl and Zantec. Why the hell I was on Zantec is beyond my ass. And some mouth abscesses that would make your stomach turn. Next year I'm going for a body transplant.
This blogging shit is getting tedious. I guess I don't have the constitution for it anymore. As Sydney Harris said, if it ain't worth thinking about it ain't worth writing about. That about sums it up.

Lisinopril...

2007-07-07T09:29:00.000+01:00

...is an ACE inhibitor used to tread hypertension and other heart related issues.

I took my first dose at 6:PM on Thursday. By 11:00AM on Friday I started going into anaphylactic shock. It started with my upper lip swelling up on the right side. An hour later on my way to the MD's the entire lip was the size of a small yellow squash. MD wouldn't touch me (chicken shit; you gave me this crap) so they sent me across the way to the Urgent Care ER. Got right in, hooked up to IV's in each arm, two shots in the buttocks whilst some PA extolled on about the need for me to go to the "BIG" ER for further treatment and 8 hours of observation. In no uncertain terms I told them there was no chance in hell that was happening.

So two hours later, armed with three scripts and a feeling that my head was going to explode, I hopped in my truck with brother driving and his son following and made my trek home, via a stop at the pharmacy. This pic was taken around 7PM last night. Lower lip catching up and cheeks so swollen that within an hour my eyes were swollen shut.

I made a conscious effort two months ago to be more proactive in watching over my health. That ended yesterday. I went 28 years without going to a primary care physician and I never had to deal with all the shit I have since that time. All drug related. Hell, I've been able to keep prostate cancer at bay, on my own, for five years. So if you are under the care of someone that has taken the Hippocratic oath, RUN as fast as your ass will take you.

I'd like to say that things have improved this morning, but alas, they haven't. So I'm off to fill these cheeks with acorns. I should be able to pack in enough to get me through the winter.

Here's Some Shit That Pisses...

2007-07-03T23:50:00.000+01:00

...my ass off.

Don't get a quizzical look on your face when I tell you that the most popular blood pressure medicine you have me on tears up my digestive tract.(And if you, dear reader, take HCTZ, I recommend you get on something else). I warned you about me and meds. And it took me 28 years to go to another GP, so you'd better listen. I was a whipper-snapper back then. Not so much now. And when you write a script, make sure the techs can tell the difference between a 0 and a 2. How in the hell do they read that hieroglyphic shit anyways? Because of it my diastolic BP stays above 110 for two more days.

I've about had it with people that feign that they care about you. Just quit the BS.

It always amuses me when bloggers whom are also gun aficionado's get all worked up and send out a call-to-arms. As if Al-Qaeda is going to show up on their doorstep looking for their first-borne. I hate to disappoint your testosterone, guys, but that ain't likely to happen. I know you love your weapon. Save it for your SO. She loves it.

Speaking of Al-Qaeda, I'm tired of hearing about their asses. And I'm tired of Iraq, and Iran, and Hezbollah. Do something about it or get off the pot. Enough.

We have a new "head hunter" at work. Not in the sense of a number cruncher, but determining how effective we are as employees. Why the powers-that-be thought it necessary is beyond me. Nice enough guy, but you can tell after a few moments with him that he's just full of it. He's trying to endear himself to everyone as if he's got their best interest at heart, and then there's the proverbial sledge hammer waiting in the wings. What puzzles me about this whole thing is that everyone other than the owner and the prez doesn't have an idea what he is up to. It's all about making himself look good, not us. Of course, it will be done under the guise of "what's best for the company", but for shit's sake, we have 12 employees.

Don"t Lie To Mom...

2007-06-30T23:41:00.000+01:00

Brian invited his mother over for dinner.

During the meal, Brian's mother couldn't help but notice how beautiful his roommate, Jennifer, was. As she watched them interact over the course of the evening, she wondered if there was more between them than met the eye.

Reading his mom's thoughts, Brian volunteered,
"I know what you must be thinking, but I assure
you Jennifer and I are just roommates."

About a week later, Jennifer came to Brian and
said, "Ever since your mother came to dinner, I've been unable to find the beautiful silver gravy ladle. You don't suppose your mom has it, do you?"

Brian said, "Well, I doubt it, but I'll send her an e-mail just to be sure." So he sat down and wrote:

Dear Mom:
I'm not saying that you "did" take the gravy ladle from the house, I'm not saying that you "did not" take the gravy ladle, but the fact remains that one has been missing ever since you were here for dinner.
Love, Brian
Several days later, Brian received an email back from his mother that read:

Dear Son:
I'm not saying that you "do" sleep with Jennifer, I'm not saying that you "do not" sleep with Jennifer but the fact remains that if Jennifer is sleeping in her own bed, she would have found the gravy ladle by now.
Love, Mom

Just When You Thought People Couldn't Possibly Become More Stupid...

2007-06-26T23:20:00.000+01:00

...nor more self-absorbed and indulgent...

comes this story whereby, for the meager sum of $25,000, you can have your ashes spread in these gardens of Duke University. Twenty-fucking-five thousand. To spread your sorry ass amongst the thicket, and your ass won't even know it. I wish I'd been born a goddamn monkey.

Just Because The Shades Are Down...

2007-06-24T08:38:00.000+01:00

...doesn't mean he can't see your ass.

As with most things, we've pussified the almighty. I often ponder about the existence of God, but when I look up into the night sky, which ain't often, because I'm drunk and can't see, I can pretty much figure out that this shit didn't happen by chance.

I once got caught up in Process Theology. One of it's tenets is that God changes as we do. Now that's just bullshit. I need a God that's gonna kick my ass when it needs kicking. And I pay the consequences. Just another example of how easy it is to get out of things. Judgment is coming and right damned soon. So sayeth the Lord.

I'm No Doomsayer...

2007-06-23T23:57:00.000+01:00

...but I've been watching a movie that depicts this scenario. Not the Armageddon one with Bruce Willis. That was bullshit.

So was this one, pretty much. But somewhat more realistic. It's always been my contention that be it nuclear war or some sort of asteroid crashing into the planet, we can't comprehend the ramifications. Nonetheless, it should give us pause.

Seems to my simple mind that at one time or another something like this will happen. Some say it's what killed off the dinosaurs. Likely to happen again, I would suspect. That, or some nuke. Unfortunate, to say the least. Best it be at the hand of nature than us.

Be that as it may, read some Melville, read some Hemingway and some Twain. Huck Finn is an excellent novel. Of course, if our asses are blown off the planet it won't make much difference. But a good read is a good read, dontcha think?

I've Said It Before...

2007-06-23T17:57:00.000+01:00

...and will say it again. Do her in a heartbeat. With grace and passion. If I could, of course. Dream on, motherfucker.

One Of The Problems...

2007-06-23T17:14:00.000+01:00

...with prostate cancer is that a standard way to try and control its growth is with estrogenics.

Typically, if you're under the care of an MD and opt out of the standard cut and burn procedures, you go on Lupron, Casodex and Avodart. Triple hormonal blockade. I do mine naturally. As long as the herbs are of good quality you can expect the same results. Lower PSA, but your titties swell up, your balls shrink and your dick seeks shelter in the netherlands of your abdomen. There are times when I have to pee that I have to coax that bastard out of its hideaway with sweet nothings involving escapades of our past.

It's a trade off. One I can live with. I was never much of stud anyways. One woman was enough for me. Which brings me to steroids, in a round-about-way. I've thought about taking them to counteract the effects of the estrogenics. But only when I'm in a state of utter mental chaos. In doing my exhaustive research I've learned that just about all those pictures you see that depict six-pack abs and such...steroids. Nobody gets those naturally. I can attest. The eldest is a workout freak. Always has been. BIG guy with BIG guns, but he doesn't look like that. Nor does the marine nephew, whose home from Iraq, thank you very much, and OUT. Still has reserve duty, but unless someone just dummies up big time he's going to Auburn in the fall to chase pussy and ride his newly purchased crotch rocket.

I remember riding dirt bikes when I was his age, and the feeling of invincibility we got from it. The rush and testosterone boost were amazing. We'd stroke into the bar after a day of mud slinging and the women would make their way to our table like magnets. I'm lucky now if I go to the grocery store and get the attention of the cashier.

Such is life. I've done this living for 54 years. Don't expect much more out of it. Other than survival. Just an old piece of barbed-wire. Keeping the fences up that need keeping up. I was good at it then, I'm good at it now. Nuff said.

It's kinda nice when you know that the ole dickmeister ain't gonna work. You can just be friends with a women. Kinda nice.

Boobs...

2007-06-23T11:28:00.000+01:00

...yeah, that might get a hit or two. Not that I care. I haven't been posting much as of late. I suppose it's a process, as are most things. But I still have my daily reads.

One of which is Babs.
I like reading her. She's funny and insightful, while still maintaining a sense of self-depreciation. I've had my issues with her in the past, but I usually turned out being correct, but that's not the point.

This is. I've always had this thing stuck in my craw about women and their boobs. Now, I've never hidden my appreciation for a good breast. I won't elaborate, but some whipped cream and a cherry and some chocolate on a big nipple makes for an excellent dinner. Add some Crème de Menthe and you'll sleep like a baby.

Women always seem offended when we try to admire their endowment, but they still make sure we know they have them. They don't want to be seen in their undies, but they'll wear a bikini/swimsuit that puts those puppies on full display. Babs even has it in her profile. Big busted. Is that a badge of some sort? If you told her she had huge titties I bet she'd beat you down with a tire jack. But she'll tell you how hard it is to contain them when she's walking/psuedo running.

I'm not picking on her. My ex's sister used to do the same thing. It was as if she was saying "I have them, I'm proud of them, I want you to admire them, but you can't have them." She used to sit around in the flimsiest t-shirt that left nothing to the imagination without thinking anything about it. Never bothered her, never bothered the wife. It sure as hell bothered me, in a good way. I was fortunate enough to see them on an occasion or two, and they were spectacular. And she did it intentionally.

Perhaps they are just appendages to women. Something that comes with the package. I asked the almost wife #2 about it one time, and she was very well endowed, and she said it's like asking a guy how it feels to have some sausage hanging between your legs. I'm sure it goes back to babyhood when we just like to suckle. But I'm curious as to why girls don't grow up with that desire. Or do they?

I Don't Do Meds Well...

2007-06-23T10:12:00.000+01:00

...never have. Most likely never will.

Ya see this little bitch in the picture? It's HCTZ. Hydrochlorothiazide. It's a diuretic used to treat hypertension. It's supposed to lower your BP by getting rid of excess water in your body and it's also a vasodilator. Like I need to piss more than I do already. And on top of that I'm vascular enough as it is. I don't need no more blood flowing through my veins.

This little pill has kicked my ass to the curb and back and then dunked my head in the shitter. Without remorse. I woke up at 3:30 the other morning to take a piss and as I stood up I literally face planted myself into the bedroom door. Woke up five minutes later and crawled to the crapper and threw up my descending colon, pancreas and gall bladder. I believe there was some spleen in there as well.

I've never passed out before. I faked it once when I was in fourth grade because Ms. Massillo was forcing me to learn how to diagram sentences. That was just bullshit stuff. The other night wasn't. When I came to I had absolutely no idea what had happened nor where I was. It was purely by chance that the first door I found while crawling was the bathroom, since it's located right off the bedroom. But I sure as hell didn't recognize it. But I did recognize the porcelain, which is exactly what I headed for.

Being unconscious is a weird experience. It's not like waking up from sleep. You don't really stir like you do when you slip out of slumber. You just kinda pop-up. And your surroundings seem foreign, as if you were the character in one play and were suddenly cast as someone else is another authors venue. And they forgot to give you the script. Strange stuff.

Some Bullets For Thought...

2007-06-20T23:44:00.000+01:00

...not that it matters.

It seems we have become increasingly consumed with style. I see it all the time in my personal life and in the blogs. As well as life in general. I realize there are some permanent things involved in the human brain that attract us to others; pheromones, for example. But for the most part aren't those ephemeral. You wake up one day and the initial spark is gone and you're stuck with the substance. Which is what makes day-to-day living possible. You may have great tits, which you talk about all the time, but in the long run, I ain't talking to them.
Every once in awhile you come across a great gift for your mother's B'Day/Mothers Day . I nailed it this year. Got the brothers involved in the cost because it was expensive. It's an AeroGrow. She loves the damned thing. Growing tomatoes at the time. I reckon there's a part of us that still love's to get our food from the soil.
I have never been able to tolerate fellow employees that don't contribute much to the mix but make sure they they raise a stink when they feel a decision has been made that didn't include them. DUH. Could it possibly be that it was done for a reason? We have a woman just like that at work. She can't work on her own. She has to constantly go to others to ask for solutions to problems given to her, and yet she continues to work there, taking up the precious time of those of us that work quite well independently. Dumb women suck. So do dumb men that are attracted to dumb women.
What the hell happened to proctologists? I went to one way back when to get my roids cut out. He confirmed I had them, after turning my ass and myself upside down for the better part of an hour. He said he could take care of them. That's how he makes money, he said. Lots of money. I can't find one now. Even at Duke. I guess nobody deals with assholes any longer. I bought a soldering iron. That should do it.
Despite my good test results from my newly found best friend of a doctor, my BP is still through the roof. I think it's work related, because of the the lady that can't do anything on her own. Or it could be Al Gore and global warming. Or Bush. Either way, I expect some type of cerebral hemorrhage in the coming weeks.
Acid Women? HAH.

Bloggers Now Suck...

2007-06-20T00:28:00.000+01:00

...because it's no longer about writing or ideas. It's about site hits, and how others feed off of those that link them.

That isn't writing for writings sake. It's ego. "Gracious sakes, so-and-so linked me and my site stats went up by 200." And the cycle goes on back and forth and they shove their heads up each other's asses so they don't fall into disfavor with the other and get yanked from the link list.

I suspect that the reason J. D. Salinger went into hiding when he wrote Catcher In The Rye was because he had no proclivity to deal with the attention and he had no desire for others to feed off of his composition. Same for Robert Pirsig when he penned Zen And The Art Of Motorcycle Maintenance. It was a classic. He didn't write another book until 1991, and it sucked.

Get over yourselves. You started writing because it fulfilled a psychological need. You've managed to bring it to a level where it's nothing more than who likes you best and how many hits you can get. As with most things, a good idea to begin with has dun shit the bed. Figures.

Various And Sundry Saturday Morning...

2007-06-16T11:59:00.000+01:00

...musings about much of nothing.

Living alone gives one the pleasure of doing pretty much what one pleases. I have a faint memory of what it was like when the boys were young and I was still married. It was a constant whirlwind of activity. I was hither, yither and yond with nary a break and it was fun because I felt as if I was making someone's life better. In retrospect, I did, in fact, make them better.

I'm sitting here swilling Franzia and listening to the radio. Unusual for me on a Saturday. TV bores my ass to no end lately. I just heard an add that encourages parents not to fart around their young children because it contains toxins that might deter their mental development. I have nothing to say about that other than the sooner I go the better.

Billy Graham's wife died. I was sorry to hear that. I met her once at a governors function when the ex's father was the budget director for the state. An absolutely charming lady, and a looker to boot, even in her sixties. She had some sort of twinkle in her eyes that just escapes me to this day.

I called the almost-second-wife the other night on a whim. I sure do miss that voice. And the banter we seem to be able to carry on to this day. Thirteen years later. She lives on a pasture with two horses. She never rides them. Seems odd to me. This is a city girl. Her dying brother talked her into it, best as I can discern. She has a mate she doesn't sleep with and he leaves at nine every night. She deserves better.

The older brother almost died a few weeks ago. Had a hernia that he ignored and his guts and one of his nuts decided they wanted to see what life was like outside the confines of where they are suppose to be. I would never tell him I was concerned, because that would violate this thing we have going. But it scared the shit outta my ass.

Tsk, Tsk, Jason...

2007-06-16T01:48:00.000+01:00

...do not fuck with an existentionalist. You are doomed and you will shit your pants when I am done with your ass.

I thought I might comfort myself during my demise with some power TV, meaning digital cable. HAH. I shan't go into the butt fucking that poor Jason took when he explained my options. It is, after all, his job. He needs to go back home to momma and let her feed him a head.

I want to empathize with people that take these sorry ass jobs that try to convince people to purchase their product. Sorry. Can't. Ole Jason thought he had my ass. That's the difference between 24 and 54. He was sure he had my ass and a commission was on his way and he could go get a fancy bottle of wine and lay his lady.

Think again. Not on my dollar. Not on my watch.

Most People Base Their Perceptions Of The World...

2007-06-13T00:46:00.000+01:00

...on the training they had from their parents.

Then they branch out and become egocentric. It's to be expected. Feed the beast. Which it is. A beast. Freud thought so. As did Adler and Jung. It always makes my asshole shiver with laughter when I read bloggers that say they just 'love' writing. Bullshit. You want the attention. Why would sitemeter or statcounter even be in existence? If you aren't making money off of your site, then why would you care if people read it or not?

I've spent the past month getting medical tests done and working way beyond the boundaries I'm capable of at this time. But my ego has never come into play. But I have religiously read the blogs I like and it has confirmed my opinion that we are in a sorry state of affairs.

I would think that blogging is a venue to convey thoughts and feelings, which it is. And if you write to elicit a certain response for an idea you've thrown out there, well enough. But when one turns that into a "hey, look at my sitemeter" party, what the hell is that? It's nothing more than an effort of someone that has some serious self-image problems and needs validation from somewhere.

Why is it that some bloggers convey their new found relationships and how happy they are, and the potential involved, only to come back a few weeks later and break the news that it didn't work out? Because there is no future. It's doomed from the start.

Just because you have a degree in something or other doesn't make you an expert in anything. I trust garage keys more than you. And by garage keys I mean the sitting down at a table and discussing things that have a genuine bearing on social, political and religious ramifications. It doesn't include the stupid ass comments about how a blogger will willfully blow away another human because of their religion. A "thinking" man or woman knows better. But that's just me.

So, on to the medical facts. PSA of 1.2, down from 3.2 in November. Read it and weep. Total Cholesterol - 181, HDL - 85, LDL - 89, Triglycerides - 108, Blood Sugar - less than Normal, Liver Enzymes - normal, Kidneys, etc, Normal. What does this mean? Not a damn thing to you, and it will change for me.

It doesn't mean shit. You write, we read. But a word of caution. You aren't nearly as important as you've come to think you are. Stupid blogs awards mean nothing. You are the same speck you were when you were born.

As Ian Anderson Reflected...

2007-05-22T22:59:00.000+01:00

...Life's a Long Song, but the tune ends too soon for us all.

I shan't be posting any longer. Not that it matters, really. I never had many readers. And what I scribbled was mostly worthless drivel. Just another blip on the radar.

If you would like to take over the blog send me an e-mail and we'll make some arrangements.

Life Is What It Is...

2007-05-18T00:53:00.000+01:00

...and there ain't much you can do about it. So you swallow the medicine, take your pill, as it is, and hope for the best. Knowing that the outcome is not going to be good. Glass half full or half empty. Seems pointless to ask when you open the cupboard and there are no glasses to be found. You don't even get the chance to decide.

So I'll take what I don't have to whatever ends I can, knowing full well that it is partly my fault and partly genetics. As it should be. The creator likes to throw a change-up every so often, just so you remember whose on the mound. But my bat ain't big enough any longer.

So it is what it is...

I've Been A Parent...

2007-05-06T02:47:00.000+01:00

...for upwards of 24 years. So I kinda feel qualified to speak about how parenting works.

If the officials decide to take your kid away and make them a ward of the state you've pretty much failed as a parent. I don't care how you try to spin it. Blame it on the father, blame it on the kid or blame it on circumstances. You just fucked up, plain and simple. You can try to assuage your conscience all you want but when you look in the mirror all you should see is what's really starring back at you. A narcissist. Plain and simple. Your son pegged you. You're just too damned wrapped up in yourself to see it. I called you on it months ago. It's come home to roost. Good riddance. I feel sorry for him, though, because you don't have the guts to step up and take responsibility for what has happened to him. Your solution is to always take him back to his father and let him deal with it, which of course he can't. So the cycle continues. And you wonder why the kid is fucked up. Go figure.

This Whole GOP Debate...

2007-05-04T00:06:00.000+01:00

...is nothing more than a bunch of bullshit hoopla. A glorified press conference.

I read today where some drive-by-media pundit called it a coronation. Say what? And another said the spirit of Reagan would be guiding the participants. All ten of them? It's scheduled for 90 minutes. Ten candidates. Given that they all get equal time, that's nine minutes per person. Hell, I can't jackoff in nine minutes. Well, I can, but my point wouldn't be made. I want it to be succinct. I'm going to become a Libertarian. They don't subject me to this shit. Maybe that big plane they have hanging over everyone will fall off its moorings. Now that I would watch.

I wish Fred Thompson would throw his hat in the ring. I like him. He looks like an old hound dog just casually snoozing on the porch, droopy eyes and all, yet up for a good hunt.

The Hellions...

2007-05-03T23:15:00.000+01:00

...aka my sons, have a trip planned the end of the month.

Their destination? VEGAS!! Yeah Baby!! It's in celebration of the youngests 21st birthday. I have never been because I know that what happens in Vegas would follow my ass forever.

I do happen to think it will be a trip that involves copious quantities of alcohol being thrown down their gullets, their being beguiled by some shrew that promises them a peek-and-tweak of her slot machine, perhaps some porcelain hugging and, no doubt, lots of money spent. I'm sure they will be effervescent in their enthusiasm to take in all the city has to offer. And I'm sure they will, if I know them the way I do.

I don't expect too many problems from the venture. After all, how much trouble can three or four 20-somethings get into in the sin city? So I'm cashing in my 401K just in case, ya know, they find a Russian lady that needs an older man to marry her and get a green card. They're always thinking about dear ole Dad. Or they need bail, whichever comes first.

It Befuckles Me...

2007-05-02T00:46:00.000+01:00

...when I read blogs about child rearing.

Yeah, Yeah, your kids are not your friends. Throw down the gauntlet and show them whose boss and what the parameters are. Yada, Yada.

I was, unfortunately, only around my kids, on a full-time basis, for six years. After that it was peace meal. When I was with them full time, I took care of their needs, bathed and fed them, played with them and interacted with them. Was it as a friend or a parent. Both, in my book. I could pull the parent thing if they were acting up, but I never did it with the thought of authority in mind.

The ex never had any parenting boundaries. As long as she had Elle and Cosmopolitan to read when she got home, as she was sipping her wine, as I had bathed, played with and fed the kids then they were fine. I wasn't, once they went to bed. I had one too many beers and was shit for a father. So it goes.

Turns out, after all these years, that they are, in fact, fairly good men. Will they always be that way? Of course not. There are no guarantees. We've all seen examples of it. If you are a parent in my age group then you know that life happens in stages. Don't beat yourself up. You could do great raising them during one stage and fail miserably during another. It's probably genetic anyways. Give yourself some credit for what you've done to date, but don't think you've won the race. Think back on your own life when you were 20 and 30. See any changes? Point made.

Even Another Reason...

2007-05-01T23:46:00.000+01:00

...I hate environmentalists.

This is a goose. A fucking Canadian goose. You ever dealt with one? I have. Up close and personal. I spent three hours chasing these worthless creatures around so they could be caged and shipped to Louisiana and Mississippi. When you grab them, even though they are molting, they will bite the piss out your arms with their beaks and flap their wings with such force that you feel as if you have broken a few ribs. Despite shipping them off, they came back. With their children. We got a border collie to mark his territory and chase them off. Kinda works, but not so much.

UPDATE: As I started writing this the NBC evening news did a story on the same thing. I'm suing for plagiarism.

I don't like them and never will. When I was in the golf course industry they used to shit all over EVERYTHING. They still do, in my so-called backyard. If I go fishing I wear the oldest pair of boots I have because I have to walk through so much of that crap that it ain't worth cleaning the soles. But, I never hurt one intentionally. Nor had I ever thought of doing so. And I didn't tonight on the way home. There are several places where businesses think it's modern and sexy to have a pond at their entrance. No problem, 'cept when the fucking geese take up squatters rights. Then it's an issue, because it's on a major thoroughfare, and pretty close to the road.

I try to pay attention to my surroundings when driving. Hence no wrecks since I was sixteen and playing Le Mans on a rain slicked, winding road in a VW Beetle. I saw the little fucker on the side of the road, and honked as I always do, which usually scares them enough to scoot their ass out of the way. Not this Canadian. I believe it actually looked up at me with disdain in it's eyes and murmured through its beak..."Just try it!!".

Which I did. Dead duck. Or goose, in this case. I felt bad, but traffic moves at 50 MPH and I'm not about to come to a stop for a fucking Canadian, goose or not. But NOOO, the person behind me apparently became outraged. In an instance they were up beside me honking and wailing their arms demanding I go back and take responsibility for my actions.

My actions? The quacker stepped out in front of my truck. It's a goose. There's nothing left for soup or deep frying. Go home and have a drink. She was vehemently adamant that I go back and clean up my mess and check on its children. HUH? How do you know she had chittlins? Because they all do this time of year. HAH!! Not next year, they won't.

As I had pulled into the center turn lane to avoid delaying anyone else, I'd finally had enough and reached into the back seat, grabbed my sawed off shovel handle and told the bitch to call animal control to come clean up the carnage. Or she could do it. Either way. But I was done with her psycho-environmental ass.

I was going to have chicken tonight. Not so palatable now. I don't feel guilty, but I'm thinking beef. Cows don't walk out in front of my ass. Except in my dreams. Then I figure they're just metaphors for ex-girlfriends.

This Soldier Took Umbrage...

2007-05-01T00:42:00.000+01:00

for something I posted with a link from Craig's List. He doesn't have anything in his sidebar where you link directly to a recent post, so if you want to find it do a search on GS.

I'll give him his due, as I did in the comments. It seems he wants total honesty on the internet and on blogs. I respect the man, but what the fuck? We can't get that in real life, and if you think the internet and blogs are full of honesty, well then I just might as well stick my head back up my own ass.

If I sit down and have a conversation with a friend(which is silly, because I don't have any) and he spews forth several things, how the hell am I supposed to go check on them to make sure they're true. And would I even care? What I posted was something I found. Did I research it? Hell no. I took it at face value for what it was.

I ran across something today that said the total number of American troops killed in Iraq is closer to 7000, because they don't count those that died on the way to Germany, or died when they got there. I didn't post it because I feared it the same ramifications. I happen to think it's true, from what I've heard my sources. But what the hell. It doesn't make any difference.

The truth is what it is. Whether we believe it or not is irrelevant. For example, this gentleman proposed marriage to this woman. Jokingly, I'm sure. But how would we know. I like the man's writing, as I do hers, and they seem truthful when doing so, but how does one really know? I know her slightly and I doubt this kinda shit would fly under normal circumstances. But given the fact that he likes to joke around, I would take it as such. Maybe he really is sincere. Then what?

When it comes to knowledge, truth is a very subjective thing, as the great philosophers said and wrote about. I tend to agree. On my planet, I make my own. That's what counts. Is it true? Damned if I know. Does it matter? Not likely.

Not everything that gets posted on this blog is true nor reflects reality. It isn't a papal dictum. I don't control reality. Just as there are books that are written that skew the truth or present facts that aren't true, so it is here. This is for fun, folks. If I go into my "reality" mode, trust me, it will be real and you won't have a fucking prayer.

Have You Ever Noticed...

2007-04-28T15:35:00.000+01:00

...the sexual innuendos involved in cooking?

I don't cook much anymore, nor do I have sex, so I'm not sure why I'm even writing about this. But there's always hope on the horizon. Being the shut-in that I am, I was watching the babes cook on the Food Channel this morning and some phrases used peeked my pork loin, so to speak.

For instance...

Is this not the best looking piece of meat you've ever seen?
You don't want to beat this meat too hard.
I think I could eat this meat raw, it looks so good.
Always make sure you tenderize your meat before you stick it in your oven.
After that trip in the oven the meat might shrink.
Don't go anywhere, because when we come back I'm gonna show you my rack.
Doesn't that meat look good in my rack?
I love getting my hands all wrapped into this meat.
You want to make sure the meat isn't too hot before you put it in the oven. It might overcook too soon.
You could put this sauce over almost anything, even meat.
Sometimes your meat will cook too quickly, so work with it gently.
OHHH, look at this meat. Yummmm.
I'm cooking a special dinner for my sister's husband, because I know he loves my meat.
Don't let the smell of the clams deter you. It tastes great.
Just give it a little wiggle before you take it out.
Make sure you roll the nuts in your juices, then spread them all over your rack.

I'm off to get a burger, or something...