Dying Sucks, For Sure...

...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...

...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...

...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...

...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...

...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...

...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...

...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...

...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...

...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...

...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...

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.