Monday, October 29, 2018

Bad Hair Day

Acrimonious confrontations increase as more of the population confirm their allegiances.  Before, it was all talk for the most part without the action.  Now people are dying and have been since the man of loud hair and diminutive penis fooled the flag wearing loud and proud he was their guy.

His drooling minions shout "Wait a sec.  What about you lowlife progressives accosting our idols while they break bread in public?  Awfully unChristian, dontcha think?

Progressives and others not under the spell of this new Satan scratch their heads trying get their minds around the false equivalency of killing folks and ruining meals.

Meanwhile, standing under the wing of one of his planes, the Oramge Man with the diminutive penis gives a news conference in the rain.  Later when expected to offer up deep and concerned words of sympathy and hope regarding another mass killing on his watch, he speaks of his bad hair day.  Then he reaches for the letter of condolence one of his stooges wrote.

Only in America.

Later ........................................

Sunday, October 28, 2018

Will You Be My Friend

Lost deep inside the social morass for weeks, our intrepid hero finally emerges from the oppressive shade the crowd had created there.  He takes a deep breath and realizes that for the last two weeks he has been holding his breath as he scampered here, there, and everywhere searching for someone to connect with.  Oh sure, he had friends and has had friends for years, but there's nothing like a new friend, especially a new friend on Facebook.

Our world traveler takes a few moments to make sense of his recent trip.  He would alternate grins for grimaces as he replayed the previous few weeks in his mind.  But mostly, memory of that time forced a grimace at the many embarrassments and stupid questions he had asked and then regretted.

He smiled.  "You know what?  Fuckem,  I'd do it again, but maybe next time pace myself."

Our man reacquaints himself with the real world.  He puts away clean dishes, pours water in the dog bowl, and opens the refrigerator to see if anything inside strikes his fancy.  He knows he should be hungry, but he's not.  He's an old fart now and knows hunger is on a new schedule not tuned to the biorhythms of his past.

He pulls a Tupperware bowl out and pops the top. He lifts it to his nose.  Damn! That tidbit from a meal long ago ain't passing the sniff Test.  Our hero opens the garbage can and taps the ingredients of the bowl out, then tosses the bowl into the sink.

It occurs to him around the fifth spoiled leftover bowl, he has lost some time and more importantly, lost some of his connection to the here and now right in front of him when he finally opens his eyes.  This realization shakes him to his core.  Reality was what he had worked so hard over the years to avoid.

Now he was back and so far it wasn't so bad he guessed.  After spending a couple of weeks prowling other neighborhoods, he realized no one out there in the Internet ether has any better clue than he does.  We are, as it turns out, all just Bozos on this bus.

He came away from his brief interlude between Life and whatever else is out there feeling much better about himself even after so many detours over the years from his straight and narrow plan thought up while drinking shots of Tequila with a beautiful young lady on the dunes of Mission Bay 40 years ago.

(Hold your breath and read the previous sentence.  That  is what I call long winded.)

Keep it 'tween the ditches ........................................................

Wednesday, October 10, 2018

Stupid History

I am constantly reminded of the circular nature of History, especially Stupid History, and our species' ingrained blind spot to it.  Reality is Reality and nothing we humans can do will alter it.  But we do have fun messing with its interpretation.

We often ignore reality,, choosing instead to live in a fool's paradise.  We change our perception of it to fit a conceptual notion of what it should be.  Then we teach it to our children and they grow up and either find the truth or perpetuate the myths.

It would appear that this is just human nature.  Bullshit.  The smart people know what they are doing.  Controlling the actions of the peons is always the end goal.  Altering facts and issuing empty promises has worked for millenniums.  As a group, we are nummer than a bag of pounded thumbs.  We are just lucky every other critter on the planet is not equipped to do it better.

So, down in our bones, we know that history repeats itself.  Time is an 8 track loop and though the clothes and idioms may change, we seem determined to repeat the same stupid shit time and time again.  The crap we keep dredging up seems to rise to the surface of the cesspool of stupid causes every 100 years or so.

Take Evolution.  It was roughly 80 to 100 years or so ago it kicked Genesis to the bench and became the star player in American schools.  Without the rise of science in our schools, we would not be the economic and scientific juggernaut of today.  Without science our upcoming fall from grace would have happened years ago.

Now, Genesis and the other silly notions in the Bible are making a comeback as "alternative" theories of Evolution.   Stupidity is on the rise as evidenced by the current political leadership.  Rather than making progress on all of the dangers facing us, they would rather regress and place their faith in a book that has let the Human race down for centuries.

No matter what, we will deserve what we get.  God will have nothing to do with it.

Later ................................................

Friday, October 05, 2018

Nothing to Discuss

In my absence there has been much to discuss, much to consider, and much to just shake my head and walk away from.  I chose walking away. 

There's nothing to discuss really and very little to consider regarding the fools we fools put in charge.  Folks have their minds made up.  I know I sure do. Not much benefit to be had from preaching up my own choir.  We have all settled in around our tribal campfires and are enthusiastically whipping each other up into a lather.

I'm tired of it.  Yet, like an accident I might pass by, I just have to look at the chaos left in its wake.  Not writing I thought would help me rein myself in some.  When agitated as much as I have been over this national clown show, my agitation is all I write about.

Unfortunately, not writing is leaving a hole inside.  Combine this with trying to remain calm in the face of multilateral stupidity and what I am left in is shut down mode.  Shut down mode sucks.

So I leave you with a few words regarding that which I am trying hard to not write about.  Seems I was almost successful. ........ At least I touched base.

Keep it 'tween the ditches ..................................................................

Tuesday, September 25, 2018

Tampa, Florida

I originally wrote this in November of 2008.  I have bumped it up to today because, well, I can.  It is my blog.  So there.

What follows is a memory written as accurately as I can with dialog added to keep the tale from getting dry.  Hence the label "fictional truth".  I did not use anyone's real name except Mountain Boy and mine.


"Mike, where ya been? We have a real cluster fuck going on here."

"I've been hassling with the boneheads at the hotel and the cops. I guess that vending machine I destroyed last night is a bigger deal than I thought it would be. You know it's gonna cost me $1500 to straighten it out."

"Yeah, Yeah, Yeah. You should have never knocked it over in the first place you idiot. You know how crazed everyone was. And why in Hell did you tell them you did it?"

I looked at Masher. He was dressed in his normal Showco Tee and the same jeans he wore everyday. I always wondered if he had more than one pair of jeans. Or just four or five identical pairs torn and frayed in the same places. His face showed real concern. That was not like him. If anyone kept his cool usually, it was The Masher. I was going to fill him in on the idea of guilt and what it did to some of us. Share my experience learned the hard way that a pre-emptive confession always seemed to result in punishment less severe. But I could tell he was not on the same page anymore. I skipped it and got to the point.

"So, what's up? After the hotel raped me, they got all nicey nice and told me I had a message. A message from you. By the way, that coke machine stole my money."

"Look out at the crowd. They just got word the concert's been canceled. By the governor no less. We need all hands on deck. I think the whackos are going to rush the stage."

I walked onto the stage and gazed out toward the stadium. That high falutin custom built portable security wall set in place to keep back the crazies at outdoor gigs looked like a black wave. One end would lift and then fall. The next section would rise and then fall. So on down the line like a black snake wiggling in front of the stage. The sound of the people in the crowd was an ugly sound. 50,000 fans not happy that they would not see Led Zeppelin this day. Many had become a mob intent on getting revenge. The rest just seemed to hang out as if they had nowhere else to go. A bottle landed near me and exploded into thousand pieces covering my Chuck Taylors with what I hoped was beer or pale wine. Jumping back I tripped on the bull dick cable taped down on the stage floor and fell on my ass.

Still seated, I turned and looked over to Masher. "So why was the concert cancelled?" More objects began to rain onto the stage. Bottles, cans, even someone's hash pipe. I scrambled back out of the way.

"Look up." Masher's eyes drifted skyward and he pointed to the fabric canopy hung over the stage. "We had a screamer of a thunder storm an hour or so ago. The fire Marshall came through and said if we couldn't get rid of the water, the show was done. He was not impressed with the scaffolding fix we came up with. And then he called his guys who then called their guys and now the damn governor is involved. We need to start loading everything up before the crowd breaks through and starts destroying stuff. Get your truck backed in ASAP. And then get back here to help Security keep the crowd back."

Above me the canopy erected to keep the hot Florida sun off the pasty faces of the band was filled with water. It looked like a swimming pool's worth of water. And to be fair to the Fire Marshall, I was not impressed with that scaffolding fix either. Water dripped down at a steady pace right where the monitor board would normally be. The monitor board had been yanked as had everything else on the stage. Just the lights, a couple of lonely looking mic stands and speaker stacks remained. Water dripped on a bare stage and pooled under the dead cables that connected nothing anymore.

I had not been hired to be a head breaker. I was a truck driver. I didn't mess with sound. I didn't do lights. I drove trucks. Busting on poor drunken or drugged slobs definitely did not fit into my perception of my job description.

I began to run all this concern by Masher, when Bob, the head engineer on the tour came over and roared, "Get your fuckin truck and back it in. Let's move!"

I beat a hasty retreat. No one argued with Bob. He was lead engineer for a reason.

Outside behind the stadium, I was impressed with the calm compared to the anarchy I had just left. No irate fans, no tense roadies or security guys. All there was to indicate pandemonium inside the stadium was the roar of thousands of voices as if cheering a continuous touchdown or never ending home run. The trouble was inside not out here in the real World. Outside the Sun was shining, cars drove by and seagulls stood on the dumpsters next to a chain link fence near my truck.

Backing up to the gate, I did not have to get out to find someone to open it. It opened as if by remote by two security guys wearing their standard black security Tee shirts. I backed in until Masher popped out in front of the mirror and jerked his hand in a halt kind of way. Before I even had a chance to get out and unlatch my ramp, it had been removed and I saw two roadies running with it towards the rear of my trailer. By the time I had walked back my doors were open, the ramp was down and the first piece of equipment was almost on the trailer.

I stood there considering the tense vibes all around me. My musing lasted but a moment when Dave, the new driver with the biker attitude, walked over and handed me a mic stand. "Let's kick some ass."

I stood holding this mic stand and looked at him. He was enjoying this. I don't know who made me more nervous, the out of control crowd or this maniac waiting with bated breath to lay into someone. But I kept quiet and followed him over to stage left.

Just then the barricade broke. The crowd had finally found a weak spot and quickly threw it to the side. A sea of long haired fans streamed through the opening. They jumped on the stage. Several were more intent on the victory of the breach than paying attention to the defense mounted against them. A few danced in circles with arms raised. Dave laid into the closest one with his mic stand. Caught the poor bastard right in the kidneys. He went down and Dave moved onto engage his next unlucky target.

I looked over to stage right and two security guys were having their way with another fan. It was mayhem. Violent and instant mayhem. All I could do was stand there, mic stand in hand, and watch.

"Where were the cops", I wondered? "And why were our guys so damn violent?" It just did not make sense to me. Any of it. It was then something solid sailed right at me. I turned but not quick enough. I felt the blow but adrenalin had kicked in. I turned back and looked for the source. All I saw were people in various states of grappling violence. Anger came in a flash. Tossing down the mic stand, I ran to Dave's rescue. I pulled two guys off him and kicked another one hard. Dave extricated himself and all he said was, "I had it under control bud." And he was off again rushing another fan who had violated our space.

I threw up my hands in retreat and backed up to where a group of roadies and stage hands had gathered just outside the circle of pandemonium. If I had to guess, I would say we all stood there with the same thing on our minds. How crazy was this? Just look at those guys. They are beating people because they like it. What the fuck?

Wanting nothing more to do with this stupidity, I retreated towards the Green Room. On the way, one of the light roadies popped out of the bathroom and walked by me. "Hey Mike, there's some chick in the men's room giving everyone head. Get in line."

I shook my head and continued to where I knew food and hopefully some quiet place could be found for me to escape this day that had started so wrong for me. Finding the the Green Room I quickly filled a paper plate with leftovers and plopped into one of the over stuffed chairs. All the while the noise outside the door continued unabated.

At some point I noticed it was not as loud as it had been. I figured the worst was over and I left the Green Room's false security. Back behind the stage I saw cops streaming by and people in handcuffs with bloody parts trickling blood being led away. A whiff of Tear Gas lingered. The crowd had been controlled. The security barrier lay in ruins in front of the stage. And the bulging canopy continued it's steady drip drip drip of water. Out in the stadium, riot cops were busy clearing the fans determined to hang out. There was no hitting, just determined lines of uniforms moving everyone towards the exits.

Masher found me. "I had Mountain Boy pull your truck out. Are you okay? I saw that shot you took. I don't blame you for leaving. Find the ambulance, they'll fix you up."

"What shot?" I looked at Masher. I had no clue what he was talking about.

"Feel the back of your head Mike." He turned and left.

I reached back and felt my head. A large bump had formed. My hand came away red. I found the ambulance. They cleaned me up and cut me loose.

I sat in my truck numb. I tried to digest and come to grips with what I had just witnessed. What I had just been part of. All I could do was think about that damn roadie coming out of the bathroom and informing me some chick was giving everyone head. And I started to laugh. Deep chuckles that started at my asshole and purged all the anger and fear built up over the last 30 minutes. In all the chaos, hate and discontent, Life still moved in predictable ways. The flow of what was normal, SSDD, always found a way to coexist with any upheaval placed in it's way. No matter what madness existed, people still ate, people still got head. Some parts of Life just happened naturally paying no mind to whatever else was going on. It was then I realized this business of rock n roll was going to be one of the most memorable times of my life.

Sunday, September 16, 2018

The Traitor Revisited

 "an unfortunate Man, bore down by popular prejudice."

In December of 2011, I did some research on my ancestral beginnings here in the New World.  I found a lot of information, but none of it complete.  Seems trying to retrace steps made by others 200 plus years ago is not that easy.  At least for this dimwit anyway.

I forged ahead and collected quite a bit of history on my great, great, great Grandfather, John Roberts lll, previously of Lower Merion, Pennsylvania. On November 4, 1778 he was hanged for high treason by the then provisional government set up by the Colonists in Pennsylvania.

As it turned out, his execution was more about personal vendetta than treason.  The US government agreed later and returned some seized property and also provided an annual pension to his widow.

Anyway, I recently attempted another search on the Mill that bore his name.  I was rewarded with even more information and images from the archives of the Lower Merion Historical Society.

The letter at the left is one of the finds.  It is a letter penned by my forebear sometime before he was hanged.  I am having trouble reading it, but from what I can gather he was facing up to his fate with backbone and acceptance.

The quote at the top from this letter pretty much sums up his sad end.

If anyone would care to know more based on my previous posts:

The Traitor

The Traitor or "Republica v. John Roberts - a different perspective

The Haunted House

The site I got the letter from - Lower Merion Historical Society

So I actually posted something not angry and with no mention of ....................

Keep it 'tween the ditches ............

Thursday, September 13, 2018

Dana Loesch, a Woman Any Real White Man Would Love

Apparently, the only person to read racist overtones in the recent addition of "Nia" from Kenya to that children's programming mainstay, "Thomas & Friends" was Dana Loesch, conservative host of NRA TV.   Yes, it appears Thomas and friends are updating the content to include simple notions of diversity.  Loesch completely runs off the rails with her implication disguised as a question, Is Thomas and Friends a racist show and are they now trying to overcome their racist notions?

Darling conservative whore Dana, you are the one who put the KKK hoods on the trains, not Thomas and Friends.  All they did was introduce a train from Kenya.  It had the same gray face all the other trains had.  So stop the bullshit Dana, you just wanted an excuse to push your own brand of white power by trying to use a children's program to do it.

What a fuckin loser.

Later ...................................................

Saturday, August 25, 2018

Fuck the G.O.P.

I have no problem with someone having conservative views.

What I have a problem with is a political party that has lost any notion or clue of their ethical or moral base by supporting a leadership so evil, sleazy,self interested and traitorous , they are causing real damage to the institutions of our government.  The USA is taking some severe hits because of the G.O.fuckin  P.

The spineless GOP honchos have no problem with sucking up to a foreign power who once said they would destroy us.  To them invasion of our cyber borders is not traitorous behavior just like Iran/Contra was not treason either.

They think the criminal residing in the White House is okay, Their idea of bipartisan is to fall in line, its their way or the highway, while they do everything they can to undermine any perceived threat to their majority status.

All the while they insist they are closer to God's ear than anyone else and know what real patriotism is because they wear a flag pin and bitch about people exercising their kneeling rights when listening to the national anthem.

The G.O.P. has no clue what a good citizen is or the stewardship they were elected to practice.  The Leadership should be ashamed to show their faces in public, let alone open their mouths.

And while I am at it, ......................... The slack jawed drooling minions who voted them in can hop on the go get fucked wagon also.

Later .................................................

Friday, August 03, 2018


So, I just put a batch of pot brownies on a cooling rack and set it on top of the refrigerator.  This is the third batch I have made since October, 2017 when my wife discovered she had breast cancer.

At first, she was eating only a 10 gram chunk to help her sleep. That first batch lasted her until about six weeks ago.  I made the second batch and then she began Chemotherapy. Chemo has been such a fun time, her brownie consumption has tripled. ........ Yeah, Chemo has been quite a party. ......................... Hmm

It isn't that she has no AMA approved prescriptions to deal with the deep down in her bones pain during those first few days after a session.  Among the countless new bottles of cancer associated drugs she has collected, there is the obligatory to any self respecting collection of man made drugs, a bottle of opiate based pain pills waiting to not curtail the pain, rather just create a "I don't give a shit" attitude.  And you still wake up with severe debilitating constipation.

The bottle sits unopened to this point.  We have decided to attack the pain, sleeplessness, and general bad attitude with Pot.  And so far it seems to be working as well as anything to come out of a lab.  Upping her intake of brownies as needed with a little help from Tylenol seems to have made this journey tolerable for her.

A heated debate from just a few years ago is now beginning to simmer down as Cannabis claims rightful presence in the cornucopia of acceptable white folk medicines.  I hazard a guess that the benefits found once serious eyes hover over serious microscopes will be awesome and cause many tight ass ministers in the AMA some serious embarrassment.  And even though government will never apologize for ruining people's lives for years because of their use of what will turn out to be a major source of j\healing wonders, well, godammit, they should, fuckin assholes.

And yeah, I use anecdotal evidence to support my use of Cannabis.  It isn't second hand evidence. All the evidence I need is what I have personally witnessed after 20 plus years of helping folks score and use pot to help with cancer, Parkinson's, and severe back pain.  The factt that it is a hoot to use is but a side benefit.

Spark one up.  Life is too short to criticize something you might not understand.

Embrace the Doob. ............................................................................

Sunday, July 22, 2018

A Few Degrees Shy of Tipping Over

You might think this is just another "Godammit I'm getting old" post.  And you would be right.  It is sort of.

30 years ago I vowed to quit smoking tobacco.  Sometime around this past Christmas I finally succeeded.  Unfortunate timing maybe, but I also developed some debilitating health issues  around the same time.  I became so weak, just standing up gave me better rushes than a hit of killer weed.  Walking the dog became brief moments outback only a few steps away from the door.  My best days were spent but a few degrees shy of tipping over.

This went on until, uh, ... I guess I turned a corner a couple of weeks ago. 

I'm actually walking the dog over to Mary's Park across Sam Page Road now. I'm not tearing it up but I am feeling better for sure now having bagged three consecutive 1/2 mile loops.  Ten days ago, I could not walk 100 yards without stopping. 

I'd say I am back, but well, now days, I need to be careful how much I promise myself.  I guess I am just grateful for how much I have bounced back now.  I will keep pushing even though it is so easy to give in.  This is a painful comeback, as painful as anything I have ever experienced.

The true silver lining though is it has been approximately seven months since I rolled a cigarette.

Keep it 'tween the ditches .......................................

Tuesday, June 19, 2018

Welcome to Summer Camp Kids

Chain link walls inside tin buildings are not cages the Presidential advocate says.  What they are is not really spelled out clearly.  But rest assured, the chain link rooms are not cages.

Another pipes in that what has been erected are more akin to Summer Camps, inferring a population of happy children and even happier parents who have successfully found someone to take their little ones off their hands for a brief while. The crying you might hear are cries of joy.

In the meantime, higher up the Right Wing food chain, presidential representatives claim the separation of the illegal kids from their illegal families is the Democrats' fault.  Besides, the separations are Biblically sanctioned actions, so calm down, God says its okay.

All in all, the half baked explanations and mealy mouthed excuses seem reasonable given the group they are coming from.  We should expect no less from such an upstanding group of leaders sporting such high moral principles.  Keep up the good work. I am sure the children will one day understand that the Wall was more important than their humanity.  They will then remember you fondly.

Later .....................................................

Sunday, June 17, 2018

Ancient History

It appears what I thought I knew about Father's Day was well, absolutely nothing.  Yes, it is sad but true that I haven't a clue why, where, or when Dad's Day came into existence.  Being that I wanted to refrain from political commentary, yet still keep up with a daily post of some kind, I was going to have to find something else to satisfy my most recent writing jones.

After at least thirty seconds of intense consideration, I zeroed in on Father's Day.  I dutifully followed up this serious inquiry with 5 tortuous minutes rifling through Google choices before settling on a website devoted to Father's Day.  If anyone would have the skinny about why Dad has his own day, I was sure it would be them.  After all the site is called "Father's".

What I found out was eye opening.  It appears Father's Day is much older than anyone thought.  Experts have found in the ruins of a Babylon town, a clay tablet upon which one young man named Elmesu, carved out loving sentiments to his father, owner of a nearby sheep operation.

Sadly though, Elmesu's fondness faded when he found out Dad was going to give the sheep farm to Alrus, second son in the line.  Elmesu was beside himself because of his father's betrayal.  So he took the clay Father's Day tablet he had labored over for three days and three nights, and he bludgeoned his father to death with it in front of the cook fire in the kitchen.

Life was tough back in the day.  Ascension within many family lines depended on bloody takeovers carried out by one generation over the next.  Transition was not always pretty.


Post Script and BTW - Now that it is currently acceptable to use lies instead of facts to support one's take, I have some questions about lines and when they are crossed.  If using Fake News as support, does the Fake News have to be completely fake?  Or is it still Fake News if only part of it is?   I mean, is a half truth, or say a quarter truth any better than a flat out lie?  If so, where is the line?  I am only asking this because it may have some relevance to the above post.

Happy Father's Day - Keep an eye on the sheep.

Image from this site

Friday, June 15, 2018


I wish over hauling the homestead was as easy as giving the ole blog a going over and new look.  I guess it could be if my pockets were deep enough or my ambition was thirty years younger.

I don't think I have done anything to my blog in five or six years.  Some of my links stopped working about that time.  Yeah, the links on the sidebar were sure to lead many people to dead ends.  I weeded out the derelicts, up dated the ones still breathing and then opened up the "Theme" page on the blog dashboard.  That's where I found my last set-up.

Wow.  Quite a few new choices over what I remember from my last time.  Eleven new styles to pick from with each style having a variety of suggestions to pick from. 

I began thumbing through the choices and dammit, I was overwhelmed by too many choices.  I kept telling myself to pick one, but then I'd notice another style I had maybe not given enough attention to and well, ...... T\this could have gone on forever.  So I picked one first for BoZone ll, my fiction blog and set it up.

As I have more time than brains, I thought I would look into personalizing, or as Google calls it, customizing my blog.  I hit the "Customize" button and voila, a door I had never opened before led me to a land of color, dimensional mania, and backgrounds with intravenous fillings.  It was a world I imagined a computer nerd on acid would come up with.

After I fiddled around with the main settings (Layout, Background, width adlustments, I came to the button "Advanced".  Okay, serious pause here.

Over the years I have learned to approach any icon that says "advanced" with an idea that there is a fifty-fifty chance that button is an evil computer genius' idea of a joke, and if I punch it, all Hell will break loose.

I needn't have worried.  As usual, Google foresaw and made accommodations for the computer challenged among us.  As long as one can read, their "Advanced" world is one this flounder could figure out.

Thank You Google, I was able to increase the font size so my posts did not seem like reading the small print on a "terms of agreement" web page.

Once I had a new BoZone ll page, I tore this page a new asshole and what you see is the result.  Still some gadgets and links to clean up, but the page is how I want it for now. 

Anyway, remember to vote for anyone BUT a Republican this fall.  We want to move forward, not back.

Keep it 'tween the ditches .........................................................


Image from this site

Thursday, June 14, 2018

As It Turns Out ......

..... I am not paranoid, delusional, a few bricks shy of a load.  No, I am as normal as any life long stoner can be after 50 years of finding the Man right behind him whenever he turned around.  They are always there lurking in the shadows, taking notes and reporting back to their bosses who sport big scars on their cheeks and pencil thin mustaches.  You know, John Waters type mustaches.

Okay, okay, I may be light a few bricks and on occasion I have been known to fraternize with special friends no one else can see.  But I am not paranoid.

As proof, I offer up the Internet.  No better spy exists than the ga-jillion electronic devices hooked into a huge network of wires and computers, many of which are housed deep inside outward appearing non threatening locations like the local laundromat.  Just why have those washers along the back wall been "out of order" for the last 5 years.  Yeah, out of order my ass.

I usually keep my paranoid concerns to myself.  Those of us who know do not feel the need to share our paranoia because that is what leads to real time delusion of the type currently out of control on the Right side of the aisle.  No, the day opened up in predictable ways.  Constitutionals, pet feeding, coffee making.

And then I opened my phone.  And right there in the string of teasers on the outside screen, "Google Photos.  Here's what you missed."  The bastards had invaded my phone and hijacked a personal Kodak Moment.

Since this particular Lady's Slipper had "disappeared" the day after I snapped its picture, my first rational thought was, "I get it.  This is proof of life and there will be a ransom demand written in those irritating random Google letters that will tell me what bridge to drop the money off of."  I quickly tamped down the irrational thoughts that were beginning to boil over by refusing to run around the house closing blinds and locking doors. 

I am sure Google will inform me, should I bother to ask them, that I am hallucinating and it is just a grand coincidence the plant disappeared just as its image appeared in one of their emails.

I wish I was hallucinating.  That would make all this "Deep State" bullshit easier to deal with.

Don't turn around ..................................................

Wednesday, June 13, 2018

Not About Trump

Yesterday I had nothing to write about other than another Trump post.  I claimed I would be attempting to rein in my bizarre fascination with the man and not post about him.  Well, its another day, and like Trump, I don't have to live up to my promises.  I don't have to keep a civil fucking tongue in my head because well, Trump doesn't.

Hmm .................

This post is not about Trump.  Rather, it was to be about my total disgust with America first and the whole species second.  I was going to lay into our lazy complacent culture and eviscerate everyone from the deep pocket puppet masters to the blue collar good ole Joe who thinks his coal mining job can be saved.  What a planet of morons, ...............

But no.  Another choice for discussion fluttered around the edges like a kid in class who knew the answer and butt hopped in their seat while trying to reach the ceiling.  That kind of fluttering.  The teacher was having none of it and looked to pick on the kid passed out with his head on the desk.

I decided that what was important this morning was Pot.  Marijuana.  Doob.  Because if I can't fight the nationwide apathy, I might as well join it.  Isn't there a well worn saying about that?

So of course if I am going to waste bandwidth on cannabis, I should get in the right frame of mind.  Hold on a sec. .............................

Ah yes .......... There ya go.  Now I'm going with the flow.  Mr Natural like.  And if I was 19 again, this is all I would want.  A nice morning buzz to go with a solid cup of coffee.

Seems it works pretty good at age 66 also.  Some days it is just impossible not to smile.

Later ....................................................


Image from this site

Tuesday, June 12, 2018

Fuck Trump

I have decided to try and write every day, either here or over to "BoZone ll", my fiction blog.  Now that I have lapsed and come back more than a few times, I find it easier to write when I am doing it regularly.  Long layoffs are not good for my brain.

The glitch is like "Pipe Tobacco" mentioned a few days ago on his blog, Trump's presence has really cramped my style.  Each time I sit down to write, most of the time my brain is not cleared of Trump stupidity and it is hard to think of something other than Trump to write about.

So, as Robert De niro said at the podium of the Tony Awards the other night, "Fuck Trump."

I will do my best to keep any mention of Trump to a minimum.  It will be difficult, but I think I can do it.

Later ......................................................................

Hopefully this is the video of De niro at the Tony Awards.  I never assume my cut and paste skills are up to the task at hand.  We will see.

Monday, June 11, 2018


My wife had breast cancer surgery last week.  The prognosis is good, her spirits are good, and Life looks to be back to some sort of normalcy in a year or so, once all the chemo and radiation regimens are done.  That is as long as her recovery goes as smoothly as the diagnosis and pre-surgical period went.

Her particular type of cancer is invasive lobular carcinoma.  Basically it is cancer that has escaped the lobules in the breast and settled elsewhere, usually attacking the lymph nodes to begin with.  She had a partial mastectomy and 5 lymph nodes removed. 

Just the word cancer coming out of a doctor's mouth made me feel like I had swallowed a brick.  There is no worse feeling I have had in memory.  But the medical folks we had were so professional and upbeat, our initial feeling that Life is over only lasted long enough to get us wrapped up into the new battle we were to face.  And I say we, because well, I may not be suffering from the cancer and have no idea how bad it can be, I am tagging along with someone who is experiencing the Big C first hand.  I know what it is like to be married to it.  That ain't no cake walk either.

It looks to be a smother trail from now on compared to the pre-surgery period.  From the original diagnosis in October 2017 right up to surgery day last Thursday, uncertainty and fear of the unknown permeated our outlooks.

Now at least, something has been done proactively.  I won't say we (especially my wife) have relaxed.  Our anxiety level however has dropped much of the fear and settled us into cope mode. 

Jeez, it boggles my mind that I can talk so casually about it, but well, it is what is happening in my life at the moment and I felt the need to share. 

90% of the positive in all this is my wife's attitude.  To her this is nothing but a pain in her ass.  It is getting in the way of her business and she is not happy.  Her outlook is let's deal with it and move on.  What a bad ass she is.

Keep it 'tween the ditches ....................................


Image from Health & Symptoms

Friday, June 08, 2018

Age of My First Clue

We can argue back and forth about whether calling Ivanka a "feckless cunt" was a step over the decency line.  It may have been during Pre-Trump days.  But now that Trump and his merry band of vaud-villains  have lowered the bar so low that fart jokes are now high humor, I find any argument nothing but a distraction. You want to blame someone, blame Trump and the class act he has following him everywhere.

But this post is not about Trump, Ivanka, or ....... anything important like saving the World from assholes and dimwits. 

Totally unconnected events in my life have conspired over time to make me relive moments from my past with a new clarity or just a different twist to add to the quiver of explanations I might have about that event or events.

I was finally old enough to be drawn into conversations about sex with buddies and their older brothers. It was an awakening of sorts, even if I came out of it still more than a tad unclear about how the docking of man and woman really worked.  Call it the age of my first clue.  Regardless, I learned some important words, "Fuck" being the most important and influential one. I would carry and use it with pride forever.  Some situations just cry out for its use.  Best adjective, verb, oh Hell, best word for almost every situation ..... Uh, sorry, gettin off track here.

Remember, I was maybe seven or eight when this life changing word entered my world. At the time though, "Fuck" was a word I was, serious look me in the eye warned to never use in front of an adult.  Even if they used it before you did.  Adults and their lookalikes, parents, might pull out the belt, the soap, or point you to a corner if they caught you using that word.

So forewarned being forearmed and all that, I went home and kept my secret new words secret.  I would whisper them occasionally, but never out loud in front of strangers.  These words were to be shared with the guys and no one else.

My fascination with the new secret words was just the point of the spear representing my growing interests in words generally. My parents had begun directing me to the nearest dictionary ( always at least one in every room ) when I asked them the meaning of a word they said or I read.  They were not going to carry me anymore.

I remember frustration and anger.  But I also remember that along with this torrent of new words, a period of enlightenment began.  Life was not just Mom, Dad, and the backyard anymore.  New words pointed me in new directions.  I began to fall in love with words.

One morning I walked into the kitchen.  My dad was talking to my mom. In the course of the conversation, I heard him say "Fuckless".  I was shocked speechless.  Mom looks at me and asks me what my problem was.  I guess my face was also shocked, not just my brain.

"Uh, well Dad just said the "F" word.  My mom looked at me with deadpan eyes for a moment.  She turned back to my dad .  They stared at each other for an eternity and then burst out laughing.   So much laughing, it led to eye wiping and my mom leaving the kitchen.

Dad calmed down and considered me with a happy face.  "The word was not "Fuckless", it was "Feckless".  .......FECK-  less."

Of course my next question resulted in me going to the dictionary.

So, when I read what Samantha Bee said of Ivanka, I immediately changed her words in my mind to "Fuckless cunt" and then considered how that might also be appropriate in a Trumpian sort of way.

Keep it 'tween the ditches ...........................................

Thursday, June 07, 2018

The Most Dangerous Country on Earth

Earlier in the A.M. today, Morning Joe called North Korea the most dangerous country on Earth.

Hmm ...................

Seems to me he is not even close.  North Korea has only threatened to blow people up.  Surely it is a scary thing, making threats like that.  But what about the one country that has blown people up conventionally many times, and on at least two occasions, with nuclear weapons.

And now that the USA is under the control of a sleazy accumulation of spineless losers and lead by an amoral idiot, I would have to say the World should consider the USA the most dangerous country in the World.  Our track record warrants it.

Leaders throughout the World will always put their own self interests first.  In that pursuit, they will exploit every weakness they perceive another country has.  That is Geo -politics.

But every time one of our feckless leaders gets up on their high horse and preaches about how righteous the United States is, I want to retch.  Their self righteous ego inflating rhetoric would be amusing if the stakes were not so high.  And with nationalism currently riding a wave of popularity, dangerous consequences are a distinct possibility.

Fortunately over the years a set of rules, spoken and unspoken, have developed that keep the inter continental tussles to mostly battles of words, not weapons.  The one major consistent exception has been the USA.  But we only pick one fight at a time usually and we are well versed in the etiquette of browbeating diplomacy when we decide to use it.  No one can blow up the dress of a country like the USA can..

Now that the awesome and scary weaponry of the US is under the control of a mad man who thinks Canada burned the White House in 1812, the rest of the planet is right to worry.

Later ......................................

Image courtesy of Anselm Yew Art

Wednesday, June 06, 2018

Saving Us From Ourselves

Back in the 1990's when I was buying Internet time by the minute, I was so sure this new planet wide electronic community would save us from ourselves.

Hmm ...............................

I look around the electronic byways and highways now and wonder just what was I thinking or drinking that I did not see the cluster fuck that social media and the Internet has become.  Yeah, the World became smaller, communication between strangers more accessible, and in the perfect world, we'd all be sitting around the electronic camp fire singing cum-by-yah while we hold hands and smile mindlessly at one another as the melted chocolate from our Smores drips down our group chin.

But there's that "perfect world' scenario again, building up our hopes while the "Real World" works overtime to dash any chance of perfection being more than the passing fancy of a deluded or drugged out of their brain Internet visitor.

Trolls soon took over the ether and began gnaw at the fabric of civility and decency.  What we have now is so sad compared to what the possible could have been.  The Internet has given voice to people who would have been better allowed to continue to simmer in their ignorant pools of stupidity.

But now that the powers that run things have discovered how easy it is to get a lot of stupid people to believe any kind of shit the powers that be want to make up, I am thinking we are all lost. Or, if nothing else, completely off the rails for the foreseeable future.

The only way I can see to begin a healing process is to punish the group I hold most responsible for what we call a society here in the States.  While both the Right and the Left have both contributed to the stupidity affecting all of us, I hold the Right mostly responsible for the hate filled division that permeates our nation.  The Right has been quicker to make shit up, quicker to condemn, quicker to troll anything they feel did not originate on their side.  Hell, the basic model for the ACA was created by Republicans back during Clinton's presidency.  And now, they not only disown original authorship, they have convinced their drooling minions it was the Democrats who thought it up.

Anyway, I just spent more words than I wanted to to offer up some advice to any voter out there who is actually thinking about their vote and not just party line voting.  Consider showing the Republicans the door and kick every single one of them out on their ass.  From Dogcatchers to Presidents, vote for anyone except a Republican.  Vote Independent, Libertarian, Commie or the Horse Shoe Party  ....... Just vote for anyone other than a Republican.

Once we have them on the ropes, then we work on the Democrats.

Later ...............................................