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 Day.com".

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.

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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.
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Image from this site

Friday, June 15, 2018

Makeover

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 .........................................................

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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 ....................................................

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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

Cancer

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 ....................................

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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 ......................................
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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 ...............................................

Monday, June 04, 2018

Double Standards Too

A white college kid dies while pledging some fraternity in the South and the media gets all pumped up with outrage over how senseless it is and someone ought to do something.  Meanwhile in hoods throughout the nation black children die everyday by gun violence, not just once in awhile.

What does that tell us?  Some might think that white kids are not supposed to die and black kids, well that sucks, but what are you gonna do?  Read page 6 below the fold for more details.

I will admit to being a white guy who thinks he is not racist.  And in actuality as an individual, I really do not think I am.  But the culture and political system I exist in is racist and I am just now beginning to understand my part in it and how much of my life as a white guy has benefited.

I have no doubt the various minor brushes with the law I experienced when younger and nummer would have had different outcomes had I been a black.  I am sure some of those slaps on the wrist would have seen me in jail for some attitude adjustment had I been a brother.

I consider my white skin a lucky turn of fate.  And that is wrong on so many levels.

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

Sunday, June 03, 2018

Double Standards


 After setting the bar so low for themselves three years ago, the slack jawed Trump minions and their boy punk leaders are crying foul now that some on the opposition are sinking to the same depths.  I figure it is about a year and a half too late.  The cumulative IQ of the Trump mob dictates that taking the high road while they own the low road is an exercise in stupidity.  They have some balls even uttering the words "Double Standards".  Of course, I am now fairly certain that most Trumpoids don't know what it means to have a double standard.  Their poor excuse for a leader certainly doesn't seem to understand the concept.  But then he doesn't seem to understand much.

Regardless, I am feeling certain that no matter what, as long as we have idiots like the ones in the image living here in the States, Trump will have us all by our mutual short hairs.

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

Sunday, May 27, 2018

Long Weekend

Well, here we are celebrating another Memorial Day weekend.

This is the weekend that kicks off the summer season in the US. All the hub bub and stress of plans well laid months ago will play out this weekend. Planes will be full.  Highways will be full.  And if everything goes as planned, stomachs will be filled with food fresh off barbecues coast to coast.

Yes, another happy break from all the drudgery and everyday lives we all deal with most of the year.

Tomorrow, parades will break out.  Moms and Pops will corral their broods and line Main Streets  everywhere. They will watch high school bands and old men stuffed into old uniforms doing their best to walk upright. They will witness America celebrating remembering those who have given their lives in defense of our country.

In the meantime, Arlington Cemetery is running out of room.

Sunday, May 20, 2018

Mansions in Heaven

The Pew Warmer
For someone who scoffs at the notion there is actually a God who gives a shit about us and our petty lives, I sure think about religious stuff more often than one would think.  My feet are firmly planted on the maybe there is a God and maybe there is not fence. Why?  Well, this God has not introduced themself to me in person and basing my loyalty on faith is a crap shoot at best.


The Bible is the Lord's word written down by humans setting up a framework that neatly explains, excuses, and condemns every last one of us to the role of slack jawed minion to one of two masters.  I won't belabor the point, but I think organized religion is bullshit.  Done more damage over the ages than it has helped.

But that does not mean there is no Creator.

Regardless, the notion of Rapture has popped up it's silly head recently.  I checked my favorite Rapture website for the latest and well..................

Apparently, moving the US embassy to Jerusalem is another sign the End is just around the corner.

Add to that now we can expect China to invade the Middle East in our near futures with a 200 million man army, while Israel will ally itself with Russia to , well, I guess I am not really sure, but you can bet they are gonna whip someone's ass.

 Oh yeah, and Bill Gates is responsible for the latest Ebola outbreak in Africa.  This site has its fingers on the pulse of ........ hmm, not sure whose pulse or what pulse, or is it they just like to make shit up.  Anyway, the site is a hoot.

I spent some time on "Rapture Ready"  .  After all, it might behoove me to prepare myself some.  I won't need to bring clean underwear I guess.  All that will be provided when I step up to the allotment counter just inside Heaven's Gate.  That is where all Christians find out what neighborhood they will be living in.  The site's page, "Mansions in Heaven" set forth the type of home one can expect based on their level of piety and subservience to the Creator.

The Quitter's Mansion
Unfortunately I do not rate even the "Quitter's Mansion".  Apparently this is the heavenly home of those who  ......  was a believer in name only. Angels began to build him a mansion, but they stopped work when it was clear the client had no intention of fulfilling his commitment.

Sadly, based on the choices available to me and the time I have left to maybe get in God's good graces,  it looks like it will be a cardboard box under an overpass for me.  And that is if I am lucky.  Most likely scenario has me deported south of Heaven's border where Satan knows how to deal with heathens like me.

And I do believe in Satan.  I have not met him yet, but I have seen him on TV.  He has orange hair and is the greatest president in like forever.

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

Friday, May 18, 2018

What is there to Say?

What is there to say?

When I have the urge to write lately, all I want to do is dislodge the lump of disgust I have caught in my craw regarding what my country is going through.  Venting my anger at least used to make me feel better, if only for a moment.  Now, I know that venting will only fire me up even more to the point that even a second doober won't bring back a smile.  Because of this, I have refrained from blogging.

It is not even about Trump anymore or the morally / ethically challenged Right and their spineless  ways.  I have grown used to the "fuck the country, we want what we want for us first bull shit" Right Wing policies and two faced rhetoric from so called conservative mouthpieces.

And to be fair, I am even more than a little disgusted with the Democrats.  Now is their chance to take away the message from the Right and they are sitting on their side of the aisle, wringing their hands  and mumbling among each other like a bevy of grandmas hard into a group quilting bee..  And in the meantime, the Right is still able to control the narrative. 

Yeah, seems gutless is the one recurring theme on both sides.

I had a conversation with a friend who is a registered Republican, but who is actually closer to a Bernie Democrat.  Hates Trump and most of the madness playing out on the Right.  He thinks the biggest problem is polarization.  Neither side willing to give an inch.  Yet, he feels the Democrats need to be more willing to compromise just to get the bipartisan train into gear.

I said, "Fuck that."

"Well, the Republicans do have the majority, ... uh maybe the Democrats should...."  His face told me he was reaching for any straw in sight.  " ...... aw, fuggit,  yeah fuggit."  My friend never said "fuck".  It was always "fug" and all the derivatives he could turn. 

Again I said, "Fuck that. ..... And fuck the Republicans. .........  Ever since Newt Gingrich and his "Contract with America" cronies in the 1990s, the party most likely to compromise has been the Democrats.  Maybe the Republicans need to step up and moderate or , here's an idea, drop their "my way or the highway" attitudes.  That the Right cannot get anything done is more about their inability to govern than anything the Democrats have done...............  The two of them have served this country poorly for years now."

As I filtered this conversation through my undependable memory banks, the answer for it all again stood out just as it always does.  Not just one answer but a multitude of answers that need to be recognized by the largest group in this shit fest. 

As long as the American Public prefers to walk around clueless to the manipulations carried out  to control them, we will always have sleazy leaders who have no morals or have no ethics other than their own self interest.  Our leaders are but reflections of ourselves.  ..........  We buy into the fear our favorite blowhards regurgitate instead of recognizing the real threat that is buying into over the top imagined worst case futures.  But it is easier to be afraid than show any composure at all.

Suck on that America, you bunch of chicken-shit apathetic hateful jerkwads.

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

Monday, March 12, 2018

I Hate Vending Machines - Revisited

I hate vending machines. They are nothing but physical manifestations of the greed and wanton disrespect corporate America has for the consuming public. You have no choice as to what is offered and no complaint if what you picked does not come out. And then you have maybe an even chance of not receiving your money back. 

I have always hated these box like clerks who stand there woodenly, silent, with suspicious brightness and cheery demeanor. Their cover tempts us with visions of Palm Trees and bottles with droplets dripping seductively, giving the impression that once we have punched in the $1.25, 12ozs of thirst busting pleasure will envelop our taste buds. And what pops out, a warm coke that got dented on the way out and then explodes as you break the seal and raise it too your lips. There's your thirst busting pleasure fella. Right there in your face. Enjoy!
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The above is an edited repeat of one of my first blog posts from 2004, which was my grand entrance into the World of Blogs and the wacky folk who live there.

I only bring it up now, because of a recent run in with yet another electronic vendor.  I put in my 2 bucks and watched the mechanical screw move the bottle to the drop box where any second now my mouth would be wallowing in expected sugary fizz.  ...................

Instead of dropping dutifully, that bottle rebelled and became hung up just behind the glass.  It mocked me as only a rebellious bottle of soda can. And no matter how I tried, my hand would not reach it. So close, yet so far.

My hatred of coin operated anything goes back to my childhood.  I learned early to never trust a box with pull handles or buttons.  They are a pox on our civilization.

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

Sunday, March 11, 2018

Man in the Tree - Too

One of the positive takeaways from my Acid Days was learning to look past the first impression of an image and find those smaller images that lurk just beyond the outer surface.

It was mine and two others first trip in 1967.  We swallowed some microdot Strawberry Fields.  I sat and watched an ant hill for maybe a couple of hours.  Maybe more, Time takes a back seat when under the influence of LSD. I was so focused with my eyes but a couple of inches from the ground, the ants loomed large as they went about their scavenging.

In retrospective, that might give appearance I was just another drug befuddled and bewildered teenager with nary a whisper of a clue whatsoever.  I mean, who in their right mind would think watching an ant hill for a couple of hours was a normal activity.

Well Duh People, ...... I wasn't in my right mind.  I was tripping fer chrisakes.  My experiences on LSD became much wackier over time. LSD definitely twisted my normal take on the existence around me.

So anyway ......... those years tripping the light fantastic were not a complete waste.  I learned some patience and better appreciation of the beauty around me.  LSD always intensified every situation I was in, whether it be dancing in the pucker or cooling my heels in a local lock up.  Not always pleasant, but always interesting in retrospect. Each were experienced outside what would be considered my normal sanity center point.  Since I was convinced perception is the key ingredient needed for Reality to exist, then it was not me who was trippin, it was the World beyond my eyelashes that was.  ............... LSD only helped me see the world for what it really was ...............  Nothing but a Fig Newton of my imagination.

I derived the above image out of this rather pedestrian Kodak moment in my dooryard.  I snapped a picture of the weeping cherry that has graced the front of my house for the last 50 years.  It has been on Death's Door for at least the last 20 years.  Yet each year, it tosses out new growth.  I think it comes back every year because there is a creature living inside it just below its outer surface.

He has yet to introduce himself.

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


Saturday, March 10, 2018

The Rock

A deliberate rock follows its predictable routine established so many eons ago.  Its groove in the Universe well worn by now.  From all appearances, a gentle chunk of rock doing what civil rocks do in this part of the heavens.

Yet, on its surface, an over crowded and chaotic population is doing what it can to destroy the Rock.  They scorch it here, dig at it there, and pave the rest so their machines running on the remains of long dead animals can make it from here to there and back.

Blind to the damage their active lifestyles have done, they throw another rack of ribs on the barbie, park their asses in a lounge chair and sip on drinks festooned with celery or the occasional umbrella.  They may light a big fat cigar or a huge blunt.  Sinking deep into that lawn chair, they will be satisfied with their place in space.  Life can't get any better, right?

Oh sure, many of the inhabitants are aware of their parasitic behavior.  Figuring what they have, will have, or might have won't make a difference in the big scheme. Let someone else sacrifice. Besides, chosen leaders have ensured them, there is nothing to fear about melting glaciers, rising seas, and those chemicals that have enslaved them.

Consuming is good for All their chosen honchos say.  Spinning the natural into permanent trash is how its done.  Facing any future bogeymen, well, we will face them when it is too late.  Okay?

Meantime, the Rock shrugs, travels its well established path and waits patiently for these assholes to die off.
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Written while listening to Sprung Monkey.

Sunday, January 21, 2018

The ACMC

I have been straight out in the last week helping to write a minority report for the seven member Acton Commercial Marijuana Committee, forever to be known inside my brain and out as the ACMC.  It wasn't like the three of us were really out numbered.  But we were definitely out gunned. 

The handpicked chairman, a retired state legislator, comes off as a genial old man who encourages all viewpoints. It took me two meetings to realize this guy was a shark. He could twist the discussion in the direction he preferred.  His laid back demeanor hide the tightly wound unbending, not willing to change his mind no matter what, Republican mentality.

His partner in crime is a Price Waterhouse Coopers employee who has had 35 years in the trenches of big business acquisition.  He carries himself in a professional way, always speaking softly with just a slight bit of condescension. His original stated opinion was that he was open to commercial marijuana if it would make money for the town of Acton.  His true colors came out on the first meeting after our first conference call to some town in Colorado.  The other two folks holding up the majority have been barely involved, but have proven their haste in rubber stamping anything their big gun buddies want.

In the beginning, I was a lone voice tilting at this well constructed windmill.  It was apparent I was a novice.  I made many minor mistakes for which I was slapped down for.  But having grown up in the political bear pit that were family dinners in my youth, I stood up well and kept up my nuisance attacks.

This went on for a couple of months.  More conference calls and massive trolling of the Inter webs later, Mr. Price Waterhouse released his first draft of our report, a report I was supposed to fall in line with like a good little soldier.  I began my usual resistance when suddenly the two members who had been usually quiet jumped all over that report.  I was smart enough to let them go for it.  In less than ten minutes, the normally calm Chairman had lost his composure and was pounding on the table, "We have to ban marijuana.  We have to ban marijuana."  I looked to my left and what I saw made my day.  The big guns were sporting bulging eyes and red faces. 

That was when I knew some power had exchanged hands.  Since then, the three of us have turned that report from one with a serious bias to one that is closer to the objective report we thought we were tasked with coming up with.

It has been a real education. ....................................


Saturday, January 13, 2018

Its Official I Guess

Okay ........ Hmm ....... So I guess I cannot say I am not retired anymore.  A year without a paycheck is either being out of work or retirement. I have had no interest in pursuing gainful employment since my bike shop sold, and saying "unemployed" offers a promise that I might be looking for work.  I certainly do not want to give the wrong impression. So "retired" it is.

So what have I done to fill my days for the last year?  While some nagging honey do chores have been addressed, the additions to the list I made a year ago with the best of intentions, created an even longer list.  The list will never be broken.  I need to come to terms with this and be grateful I have so much more to avoid than I used to.

One of my regular blog visitors, Pipe Tobacco, commented in my last post about Trump. He was surprised I hadn't focused my attention and ire more on our fearless leader.   Well, I guess it is a case of being over exposed to the asshole.  I can't watch or listen to a broadcast without Dimwit in Chief being thrown in my face.  Frankly I am tired of him, tired of the Republicans, tired the spineless whiners on the Left, and absolutely have had it with the media enabling all those assholes.

I am just fucking fed up with the noise.

Instead of bitching about his Royal Highness, I decided to throw my energy in a new direction - Local Politics.

If you do not want to be frustrated and bored at the same time, don't just go to weekly selectman meetings or committee meetings.  What you need to do is join a committee.  Do that and you can be frustrated, bored, and occasionally pissed off.

I joined the newly formed marijuana committee set up last September.  Seven members tasked with providing information to the selectmen and citizens regarding the commercial and retail side of legal marijuana in town.  Myself and two others represent the Pot smokers and the rest want to bring back the 1950's.  It has been a very contentious experience.  Tempers have flared, feelings hurt, and you know what?  I fucking love it.

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