99 Beads on the Wall

No matter how comfortable I get in my own little rut, I can always count on friends and acquaintances to commit drive by assaults on that comfortable little rut. One friend in particular seems to find the edges of my comfort zone every couple of years or so. I have known this younger fellow for maybe 20 years now. I first met him when he was an awkward teen trying to figure out which way was up. 20 years later he is still looking.

I feel a special kind of kindred feeling with this guy. We both grew up feeling out of place and not really like one of the family. He had more trouble with it than I did. He had good reason. At least my out of place feeling was never thrown in my face by the loved ones around me. His was. I guess our situation as children was not unusual, just some of the normal lousy dynamics that can exist in a dysfunctional family comprised of more than a few spouses, ex spouses, and half siblings all tossed together. I weathered my storm. He is still working through his even though he is well into his mid thirties.

So a few years ago my friend is in the bike shop. I had not seen him in quite awhile. The normal how ya doins, and bike related subjects passed the time. Out of nowhere, my friend blurts out that he is Gay. Suddenly the conversation stops. He is looking hard at me for some facial expression that will let him know how I feel about that.

"Yeah, so what. Good for you. Told your family yet?" I know enough about his family to know this little revelation had to go down like a fart in church.

"Most of them won't talk to me now."

"So. It's a win/win situation for you. You get to be open about what we all knew anyway and they leave you alone now. Isn't that what you want?"

"I want them to accept me for who I am."

I am no mental health professional with degrees, but I know this guy and he has always done whatever it took to be noticed in a family that could not have cared less for him. "Well, they noticed you. Happy now?"

"Uh, No"

The conversation went this way for way too long. It got to the point that I wanted to boot him out of my shop. He was Gay. He was still miserable. Life still sucked. I get it. You can leave now.

But then his tendency to be a gossip kicks into gear. He begins to list all the recent trysts he has had and with whom. All local folks I either knew or had dealt with at some point in the shop. Several of them were closet Gays I guess and this guy was outing them in my bike shop. This made me very uncomfortable. I did not want to hear about it. He was Gay. Let's leave it at that. I have no interest in knowing with whom or how many. He left.

Over the following couple of years I would see this fellow on occasion. He still owned bikes, but rarely rode them. He was more about owning nice bikes than actually putting them through their paces. About a month ago he swings in. Again with the how ya doins and normal catching up conversation. And again out of the blue he tells me He is moving out. He will no longer be staying with Mom.

Now this was news. He had lived with his mother since the day I met him 20 years previous. My interest had been lit up. Then I made my mistake. I asked him why.

"I want to move closer to my mosque. The closest one to Sanford is in Dover."

"Your Mosque? What the Hell are you talking about?"

"Oh yeah. I am a practicing Muslim now"

Again he looks at me hard looking for my reaction. For once I have nothing to say. I have known born again Christians, a few folks who converted to Judaism, and several who had found Buddha. But never in my 57 years have I known someone to convert to Islam. I was caught way off guard.

All I could muster up was something like, "Islam huh? What's your Mom think? What about the rest of the clan?"

"I gave up caring what they think. Islam has saved my life. I have a new family now."

I have learned the hard way that freshly born agains are very sensitive to any criticism one might have about their new found faith. Certainly letting them know my feelings regarding organized religions is not the first thing I should be assaulting them with. So I kept my mouth shut.

"Well, what do you think?" My friend is insisting on getting some kind of reaction. What a pain in the ass he can be.

"You don't want to know what I think."

"Yeah. Yeah I do."

So I told him my opinion on organized religion. Any organized religion. I was not flattering nor was I going to water down my disgust for organized religions. I finished with how I thought it was great he thinks he has finally found his path to Happiness, but if he was looking for anything more from me, he was pumping a dry hole.

That was several weeks ago. Last Thursday, my friend stopped by the shop to buy a couple of tubes. At least that was his excuse. Before he left, he handed me the prayer beads and the copy of the Qur'an you see at the top of the post. I remember standing there with what had to be a dumb look on my face. Had I not let him know in no uncertain terms that I was a happy Heathen, Infidel, person who did not pray? And here he is handing me the tools of a religion with the obvious goal of trying to convert me.

I said thanks much, but don't expect me to be buying a prayer rug to go with them. I brought the book and the beads home. I have the beads hung from the same hook my cable to transfer photos from camera to puter hangs. The Qur'an I have placed next to the Bible I have which sits next to my Dictionary, my Thesaurus, and my political theory reference book. I have actually cracked it and read some of it.

The obvious contradictions my friend wears so publicly now could only happen in this country I think. Or a country that embraces the type of diversity we do. While I think he still has not found himself yet, at least he lives in a place that allows him to keep looking. I really do hope he locates some kind of center in the mess that is his Life. And more power to him if he finds it using the Qur'an.

Keep the Faith....................

(1173 / 3992)

Mainers Have Their Say - Tolerance Denied

I should be pleased with the vote from yesterdays referendum election. Based on the percentage of questions I voted on, I came away voting more with the winning side than not. This is an unusual situation I find myself in. Generally I tend to find my vote as futile against the tide effort. Yeah I should be pleased. The problem is the two questions I really had hoped would go my way did not.

We now can set up Pot dispensaries for the distribution of Pot to sick folk. That's nice and a step in the right direction. TABOR failed by a good margin. Again great. The excise tax failed. We also approved one bond to help fix bridges, roads and such. And finally, the last tally I saw, the Constitutional amendment proposal was being shot down. All good in my opinion.

It appears Mainers are not as independent as I thought. Holier than Thou knuckle dragging pot stirrers from out of state were able to mobilize enough brain dead Mainers to overturn the Gay Marriage law passed awhile ago. Fueled by fear tactics that "Homosexuality will be taught in schools", instead Maine decided that intolerance would be taught instead. Yeah, this one really pissed me off.

The other question had to do with School consolidation. A program to force the independent system we had into a top heavy bureaucracy that takes away local control of our schools. We had our chance to make it go away but well, apparently more brain dead Mainers were mobilized and it is still there this morning.

So with my vote, my batting average was an astronomical .714 and I should be pleased that so many Mainers showed up to vote for an off year election. And yeah, part of me is pleased we had so many participate. I should be the good sport and shake hands. Screw that. This ain't no game between friends. This election was about what my state stands for. And right now, I don't feel very inclined to stand shoulder to shoulder with my fellow citizens. We caved to the agenda of outsiders who wish to jam their narrow minded morality down our throats. Or worse, Mainers really are this narrow minded and I have been living in a fool's paradise all these years.

I'm off to lick some wounds.......................

But then I saw this and it made me grin.



Thanks to Nickie Goomba for turning me on to this.

(385 / 2819)

Not Sure What to Say - Except Thanks

At a State Softball Championship many years ago, I won a game with two in the park home runs. I batted in a total of 7 runs with those two hits. That was the first game we played that weekend. Surprising everyone, Acton won the State Championship. This event would not be noteworthy except for the fact that I had never hit a home run ever. And I was nursing one of the worse hangovers I had ever had the pleasure of experiencing. The previous night at the campground I had stayed up all night with a friend from the Netherlands who was visiting us in Maine. We swapped shots of Tequila for a few hours and then switched to Sour Mash. About 4 AM I passed out I guess. I hit the home runs some 4 hours later. The rest of the weekend of ball and beer, I played the best softball of my life. I was in the Zone. I batted close to .700 for the series and even played inspired defense behind the plate.

Fast forward or slow forward, take your pick - Awards time for the State Championship. I stood there in the line up of poorly uniformed white guys from Acton waiting for our trophies. I knew one player on our team would be highlighted with a "Most Valuable Player" award for being the best of the best. To be honest, I expected the award. I wanted the award. Everyone on the team expected me to get the award.

I did not get it. I will always remember that moment. One of the few times my efforts were way above average and I was snubbed. Our "coach" was not my biggest fan. He instead pushed for another player on the team to get it for his "overall efforts throughout the season".

I got over it. It was only adult softball ferchrisakes. But what I took away from it was the knowledge that if you expect to be slapped on the back, often times you get smacked in the mouth. Life is a crap shoot and I should never ever think I am deserving of anything more than a how ya doin or maybe someone holding a door for me as I enter with my hands full. My sense of entitlement is well muzzled.

The recent attention brought to me through a couple of blog awards brought this moment of my past back. Doc and now Mauigirl have given me some much appreciated but unexpected recognition of all the time I have spent writing what's inside me. Rather than go on about how much I think I don't deserve this or don't deserve that, I will just say Mauigirl, thank you very much. You have made my day. I mean that.

This one has rules of engagement. Simple rules thankfully. I am requested to pass it along to four other blogs I feel are deserving of recognition. Simple in the request maybe, but not so simple in the execution. But let's give it a shot.

Carlita - a Maine blogger now living in the belly of the beast we call DC

Yooper In Crackerland - Just cuz he shares a Mainers dislike of strangers in his driveway.

The Frumpy Professor - A man who refuses to allow his demons to get the better of him.

Snave over to Various Ecstasies - A sensible and level headed guy from Oregon struggling to make sense of shoe trees and such.

Keep it 'Tween the Ditches........................

(582 / 2434)

FFF # 8 - The White Hole

"Warning: choking hazard, small parts, not suitable for children under 3 years" was what the Li'l Edgar Allan Poe Posable Figure box said, but Johnny didn't listen because he was almost thirteen so he ripped off the head and ate it. Without a seconds hesitation the rest of Poe followed his head down the impressive gullet of this typically always hungry teen. Johnny burped, picked some of Poe's hair from between his massive molars and looked up at his dad. "Can I eat the box too Pop?"

The hulking figure crammed into a chair at the other end of the anti-matter table looked at Johnny. He was perturbed with the interruption, but well, it was "Bring Your Kid to Work Day" and little Johnny was his pride and joy after all. The Director looked around the table at the group of bored and disengaged Sector heads. This meeting was in need of some entertainment, some small diversion to get these guys back in the game. Besides it would have been rude to not show some gratitude for the gifts brought him by the Sector chiefs from the Fringes. "Sure son, why not? Dinner's not for a few more hours." The box, the Styrofoam inside and the bar code disappeared in a flash of teeth mashing. "That's my boy!"

What a bunch of stuffed shirts he was dealing with today. It never ceased to amaze him how the representatives from the Fringes always carried themselves with more self importance than the staff who shouldered the bigger load near Headquarters. He smiled or grimaced. With him there really was no difference.

"So where were we gentlemen?"

The representative from Sector 3 continued his report. "Before this unseemly interruption, I was filling the Director here in on some odd goings on at the outer edge of the Expansion in my territory. It seems some of the Matter that is self aware has found the key to what is really going on. I submitted a report some time ago and it obviously did not make it to the good Director's desk. Gentlemen, we may be in trouble. If Matter has figured out what we are doing, then it's all over for us."

The Director sat with his massive head propped up with one of his massive hands. He looked bored. Everything was a crisis with these clowns. Some Matter somewhere sneezes and these flounders from the Fringes get all panicky and nervous. Damn he hated dealing with issues that meant nothing in the over all business model set up many years ago. The plan, once implemented, could not be reversed. And these boneheads should know that. But he did need to humor them. Their participation was key to completing the plan on schedule and under budget.

"So, just send an asteroid their way and take them out. Standard procedure when Matters get out of hand is it not?"

Sector 3 Chief looked annoyed at the interruption but answered the Director's question. "Uh yes sir, it is standard policy to snuff out any hint of resistance. But this Matter is different. They have figured out how to defeat the use of Asteroids and such."

This meeting was really starting to piss the Director off. Underlings who needed their hands held at the drop of a hat just rubbed him raw. The Director straightened up and dropped his hand hard on the table. The whole room shook. "What do I have to do here ferchrisakes? Draw you guys a freakin map? Come on, you know policy. Just fire out a Perforation and take care of this Matter. End of story." The Director placed his head back on his hand. With the other he flipped his massive fingers dismissively. "Go on, Continue."

Sector 3 Chief shifted his weight uneasily. He had never felt the anger of the Director before. He was still new. Only on the job now for a couple of epochs. But he hadn't risen through the ranks because he was timid. Stiffening his back he cleared his throat. "Well it appears they have stumbled upon the secret of.......The White Hole."

The silence in the room was deafening. The Director snapped his head up and stared at Sector 3 Chief. His mouth began to move, but no words came. Murmurs from the rest of the Sector Chiefs turned into chaotic discussion among themselves. The Meeting had gotten out of control.

"Silence!" The Director was now on his feet and leaning hard on the anti-matter table. It bowed under his copious mass. "That is impossible! White Holes are still just a theory. No one has been able to prove their existence."

Sector 3 Chief stood his ground and stared back at the Director. "Yes sir that is correct. We have yet to prove or disprove the possibility that White Holes can exist. But how do I explain that the six Perforations and then the Tear I sent out just disappeared? No reports. Nothing. And in the meantime, a new anomaly has been noticed in that sector of the Expansion and the Matter I intended to take care of still exists. I have been over this with the slip stick boys and they have concluded the only answer is indeed a White Hole."

The Director was not ready for this. Matter only existed to feed their expansion into this universe. He could not get his mind around the idea that the Matter created by his forebears had now discovered the one weapon he and his kind feared the most......Anti-anti-matter. If true, his race had finally overstepped their abilities and created the means of their own demise. The Director tried to imagine a hole that could eat darkness, thus producing Light. As he understood the notion here, Light produced in such a fashion indicated with a high probability that their race's bogeyman, Anti-anti-matter came through as a byproduct. His limited intellect in things scientific stopped him from even being able to conceptualize the concept. He sat back down with a plop. The room shook and the various cool drinks of liquid Matter on the table tipped over. He sighed. "So where does this leave us?"

No one spoke. Eyes were cast down at massive hands clasped in nervous grips. Everyone around the table just sat there as if struck dumb. Little Johnny, who had been mindlessly looking out into the nebula, turned and said, "Gee guys, Dad always told me when I was little, never be afraid of the Light. The Light would never hurt you."

The silent tension in the big room broke. These heavy wieghts representing the far flung territories of the Empire relaxed, some even grinned. The Director was smiling or grimacing again. Sector 3 Chief managed a nervous haha as he sat down and straightened the copious collection of sheets he had used for notes during his presentation.

As the meeting settled down, Sector 6 Chief remarked, "Yeah guys, no need to be all positive and up. Things could be better you know. There isn't always Light at the end of the tunnel. And every cloud doesn't have a silver lining. Just keep thinking negative and all those pesky Matters will take care of themselves."

The Director let his head settle in on that massive hand again. His face once more the face of a bored and overworked bureaucrat. "Okay. Settle down guys. We have quite a few more Sectors to hear from. Who's next?"


__________________________________________

For some unknown reason this, I kept thinking of Frank Zappa while I wrote this. Zircon Encrusted Tweezers, Montana, and Dental Floss Tycoons came to mind more than once. Anyway, I am once again left wondering where the Hell that came from?

I had serious issues with the ending. Must have re-written it 3 or 4 times. Still not sure.

(1302 / 1852)

Time is Not on Your Side

It is going to take me a month to get used to it. It always does. They claim it is done for the "Common Good" or for the "Kiddies" or some other lame ass excuse. But I know what they are up to. They just like messin with my head. They know that by keepin me off balance twice a year, they have a better chance of keepin me under control. "Give him an hour now, we'll take it away in another 6 months or so." And insane cackling breaks out in the halls of the Department of Transportation. Bureaucratic humor- I guess you have to be one to understand.

If you think I am wrong, then why all the confusion over do we gain now and lose later? Or is it lose now and gain later? How can you gain or lose something you don't have and doesn't exist in the first place? Jeez, get a freakin clue. They offer up school kid associative ways to get us on board like "Spring forward and Fall Back". What the Hell is that? Some kind of game?...........Yeah it's a game alright. A deadly serious game.

We used to be free. We used to have control over not just what we thought, but also when we thought it. Now it seems those evil beings who want to take control of the planet want to not only own the thoughts we think but the schedule by which we think them. Oh they are sneaky alright, these Time manipulators from outer space. First they come here and get us hooked on the idea of Time. And then they use this addiction to something that doesn't really exist to control our movements. Their ultimate goal being the establishment of a local food supply for their march across the Universe. In another coupla years or so, we will be the foodstuffs for awful looking beings who like their food fresh and still wiggling. After all galactic conquest is tiring work. An alien's gotta eat ya know.

I know what you are thinking. I can see your eye brows rising. Don't turn away. See the truth for what it is. I am not crazy. I have found out their game. That you might even think I am insane is a sign they are winning. Or maybe they have already won, and my efforts to save us and the planet of my birth are all for naught.

I could escape. I could leave you losers behind and save myself. With the help of that old Popular Science article - "Star Drives, build your own for under $40", I have finally finished that space ship I started in the basement so many years ago. Yeah, I could turn my back on you mindless drones. But you know what? I think I am going to stick around another 6 months and see if I can pound some sense into a few of you before I blast off into the Sunset.

And far out in the far reaches of Outer Space, a clawed hand flips off the monitor and turns to their commander, "Great Orifice Whistle, it seems the Humans are almost ready to harvest. We should be arriving about 2012, Earth Time. I don't know about you, but I'm famished."

Get with it before it's too late............................

(550)

Keepin Track of the Madness

As loose a dog as I appear sometimes, I do often manage to make plans, secretly hope, and even occasionally carry out plans and see those hopes fulfilled. Yeah, I am not as free a spirit as I would have myself believe. I guess I fall somewhere above clueless flounder and just shy of average flounder. Definitely far below anal retentive flounder though. "Good enough" is often over reaching my expectations.

I entered this year hoping, scheming and conniving ways to make sure I wrote more blog posts than last year's 199. I have even been keeping track of the numbers of useless words I have tried to put together into sentences that may make some sense to someone other myself. I haven't tallied the words up yet, but I am currently at 159 posts with 61 days left in the year. It is looking like I might just do it. Of course the quality of this record breaking effort will be as it always is, in the eye of the beholder.

At this point in the year I sit down to write and wonder why creating a new milestone based on numbers is important. Well, I guess it isn't important. And it has no meaning to anyone but myself. Right about now, I am not feeling the importance as keenly as I did when I banged out a post a day back in January. I even gave up many days of potential posts just to pay more attention to my bike shop. Imagine finding anything more important than writing inanities and nonsense.

Keeping promises and following through may have even more importance when that promise is made to ourselves. If the first person I disappoint is myself, it becomes so much easier to disappoint others.

See Ya............................
______________________________
Photo by Mrs Maze

(296 / 18,267)

Awards Show

Rewards such as they are are fleeting. Stop blogging for too long and any readers currently hooked will find their fix elsewhere. Unless we are a celebrity, a sports star, or really really good, our words are just more silent noise bouncing around the Internet ether sucking up major chunks of bandwidth.

To garner any true satisfaction I have to look inward for my atta boys and the excellent comments I receive from folks kind enough to actually read what I write. Sometimes another blogger will take that extra step and confer upon a fellow blogger some kind of award that lets the recipient know, they think they are doing a good job.

Doc, over to "Social Zymurgy:The Culture of Beer" has included me in his list of ten bloggers to receive the "E" blogging award. Apparently he has not read much of what I have written. Doc, coming from you, this is a real honor. FFF was what connected us, and I know I will be continuing to use your blog as an example for me to try and live up to. Thanks much.

Being the basic dumass and lazy to boot, the history or record of this award was hard to follow. Typical of the interactions here in Blogotopia, something is created and passed along. Eventually that something takes on a life of it's own leaving it's origins lost in the dust of a thousand blog posts. But then I realized that I can find anything on the Internet. Just use the right combination of prompts and Google will take me anywhere.

This award was created at ProjectMommy on January 18, 2008. I had heard of ProjectMommy at some point in the past. One of those mommy blogs on steroids. Anyway, the link takes you to the original site, but then when you punch up the "we moved to this site" icon, I find myself at Go daddy.com - hmm. Anyway, I have fulfilled any credit due duties as far as I can tell.

There are strings attached to this award. Virtual strings that have no legal or otherwise corporeal connections that would force me to adhere to them. It is entirely a voluntary obligation. I am supposed to now pass this award along to 10 other worthy bloggers I feel are credits to the race. Hmm. The usual suspects I would target all seem to have this award already. And all the new bloggers I have recently found are just that, new to me. Having already been snubbed when trying to pass along an award, I am more cautious now before assuming any award will be accepted gratefully, gracefully or even begrudgingly.

Well screw it. If I get slapped down so be it:

First up - Susan's Ex Gratia - A chemistry teacher who writes well and with just enough kiss my butt attitude, I had to include her.

Next - Dawn over to Weldable Cookies - One of the best writers I have met who comes from my state. Her clear no nonsense approach to prose never leaves anything unsaid or base not covered. I can always rely on her to tell me what she really thinks.

Third - sunshine, the nice woman from Canada who never has a harsh word to say. Well, she did call Billy a perv but in the nicest way possible. Her blog, Love at Home stands out for me because of the honesty I see in her video blog and the fact she uses a Comic Sans font. Anyone who bucks convention like that deserves an "E" for excellence.

Speaking of Billy. BBC, who writes from the Northwest somewhere on a blog called Spirits Doings, is the most obnoxious blogger I consistently trade comments with. He has on occasion pissed me off. But then I think he manages to do that with everyone he meets. It may be a matter of pride with him to see how far he can push the next asshole before they blow a gasket. And since I seem to value honesty, Billy is one who honestly does not give a shit what anyone thinks except him. I am going to pass this E award onto him. If he wants it, great. If not, I don't care. And neither will he. We've become friends and that's all that really matters anyway.

That's it for now. I am going to pass along the other six awards when I can.

(743 / 17,971)

Russia Hates Me

Figures often beguile me, particularly when I have the arranging of them myself; in which case the remark attributed to Disraeli would often apply with justice and force: "There are three kinds of lies: lies, damned lies and statistics." - Mark Twain's Own Autobiography: The Chapters from the North American Review



I am not one to rely on statistics as a rule. Some people just love the power of numbers as support for their take, their efforts, marking their progress through this life. More than a cottage industry, the study and manipulation of statistics is one of the driving forces behind much of what we do, say, vote, consume. There is even a game show based around the use of statistics - "And the survey said....."

Rather than try to understand statistics, we (I am including my lazy ass self also) tend to take them at their face value, as long as we like the source. GDP, GNP, Batting Averages, On Base percentages, Poverty levels, Tax bracket breakdowns, opinion polls. Everywhere I look I see statistics woven into everything we do, say, or feel. Take a look at my sidebar and the almost unnoticed grip statistics has on me. Insidious and quiet, statistics underscore more of our lives than any of us really understand. Or is it care to understand?

I am sure there is a definitive history of statistics. Actually I would feel safe saying there are conflicting definitive histories of statistics. But one thing is indisputable. We humans love them. Even if we think we don't. I say I hate them, but just look at my sidebar. It tells a different story. There I have breakdowns of all my posts based on how many in a year, how many with a certain tag, and how many folks claim to be following my blog. Any claim I make now that I hate Statistics seems a tad emptier than it did a minute ago.

What has all this to do with Russia and why does it hate me you ask? Okay, you may not have not asked, but I am because I got off the point right out of the gate and went on a tangent that well, was bound to step off some edge somewhere and plunge this post to the depths of Blog Post Hell where it probably belongs.

So with my hypocritical mentality about statistics in mind, I remembered I had once signed up for Google Analytics. Signed up and basically forgot about it. Google Analytics is a statistician's wet dream come to life. Not a simple hit counter, it is a computer software analysis of website traffic. Punch up any one of the numerous "report" icons and one can tell almost anything about the people who have visited that website. There are graphs, flow charts, map charts, jeez any kind of chart you may want. Average time visiting the site, average number of pages viewed and I guess I can even backtrack from which ISP the traffic came from. Way too much information for my limited intellect or interest.

Tell me how many people visited and where they hail from and I am a happy camper. Yeah I guess I could have found a simple hit counter. There must be hundreds of them out there. But did I mention I am a lazy SOB? Analytics gives me the basics along with more information than I will ever need.

When I first hooked up this Internet tether to my blog, I checked it everyday. It was like watching grass grow. The traffic was pitiful and the visits a paltry 15 or so a day from maybe 5 or 6 countries. I shrugged my shoulders and moved on, leaving the machine to it's work without my constant supervision. Another one of those background computer things I just took for granted.

Flash forward a year or so. I just checked it out for a hoot. Seems traffic has definitely increased. From the looks of things, I am now averaging around 50 or so visits a day that last for more than a couple of minutes with slightly more than one page viewed per visit. And the kicker is I have folks from 45 countries stopping by on occasion. I am positive this is peanuts in the scheme of what the big bloggin dogs see, but nevertheless, it was a pleasant surprise to me.

As I perused the countries where visitors came from, I noticed a decided snubbing from several. Immediately my feelings were hurt. Why no Russians? Why no Chinese? Why is most of Africa and Mongolia giving me the cold shoulder? I'd consider the possibility it was a Commie Conspiracy but for the fact that Russia is not considered Commie anymore and Vietnam is home to some of my most ardent and consistent fans. All two of them were there in the beginning and apparently they have not left their monitors in over a year.

So I am left with the feeling that while I have touched some folks in some odd corners of the globe, I have some serious work ahead of me if I plan on having that World Wide impact I never envisioned I would have. Time to re-group I guess.........

Nah. I 'll check back in a year and see what's up then.

Keep the rubber side down.......................

(890 / 17,228)

Logic & Tradition

A Russian emigre, immigrant, ex pat, refugee from the old USSR came to the States somewhere around the time of the Great Wall Falling in Europe. I ran into him virtually so to speak, on a forum thread about the Metric System. Apparently he is one of those smart guys. He settled in Silicon Valley some years ago and I imagine his engineering expertise has made some Silicon Valley tycoon some serious jingle over the years. Hell, he may even be a tycoon himself. Hard to tell over the Internet.

You see I know he's smart. He writes without an accent. If it was not for the Commie flag he uses for an avatar, I would have no clue about where he came from. Matter of fact he writes like he's from Cleveland, maybe Shaker Heights.

So there we were trading comments back and forth about the stupidity of whatever it is we use here in the US to measure stuff. Both of us agreeing the Metric System is logical and the American system is not. "Well Duh," I thought, "Americans, logical? Why the Hell would we want to be logical?" Right then and there I knew this guy was not as smart as I thought he was.

That he would even tie the idea of logic into any American institution indicated this Ruskie had not completely assimilated yet after 25 years here. The ideas of logic and tradition seem to be on opposite poles from each other. If logic ruled, tradition would not take precedence unless it was the logical thing to do. Tradition is often illogical and counterproductive. That catchy Right Wing go to phrase, "Traditional American Values" comes to mind. Tradition often ends up dividing people more often than it brings them together. That in itself seems to defeat the idea of logic.

What I find a true comedy is that many Americans even think we have been around long enough to establish honest traditions. We only began to pollute the place with our presence some 400 plus years ago. Jeez, we have hardly been here long enough to even wrinkle the sheets.

But there it is. A kind of short guy syndrome in the gang we hang out with. All those Euro types looking down their two thousand years of history noses at us and we start posturing and jiving like we fit in with our paltry two plus centuries. Shoot, I bet Europe has Walmarts older than that.

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

(413 / 16,338)

The Season of Holidays

So it's Tuesday. Almost the end of October. Pretty soon we will have another Halloween behind us and will have successfully paid no serious heed to a previously important and grand celebration of some of our forebears. (Another odd word - forebear. Like a child's story with a twist)

So we enter the season of many holidays. Most coming up have some sort of historical connecting rod to some religious madness from years ago. Recently ( I say recently in the sense that this has happened since I have been alive), Uh recently we have added Kwanzaa to this all star line up coming at us. Let's break it down.

Halloween - first celebrated by white folks barely past grunting stage. As I understand it, we can blame the Irish. Or the Brits. And even the Scots, my forebears, got their pasty white sheets and blackened faces into it. For some reason the end of summer was a bigger deal then than it is now. I guess headin to Florida was not an option for them. Bermuda shorts and winged sunglasses had yet to be invented.

Thanksgiving - I know the official line on this one. I studied it in school. But I think it is all propaganda from The Man. Thanksgiving is nothing but a chance for members of the same family to get together and bicker with themselves in private instead of doing it in public. That and watching football. I always thought it was odd to only have one day we were supposed to be thankful. Like the rest of the year it was okay to take it all for granted?

Chanukah - Not being Jewish, this one always confused me. I never understood why they did not celebrate Christmas. Of course it all became obvious once I realized everyone was not a Christian. It was my first and only Jewish girlfriend who straightened me out on this one. I was maybe 13 and she was a more sophisticated 14. Instead of celebrating a birth of someone important, I guess this one is based on winning some war or battle back around the beginning of time. Once I caught onto the fact they had eight days of this, I thought I was getting cheated what with our paltry one day.

Kwanzaa - Not sure what to say about this one. Being a blatantly pasty white guy, I must be cautious here. Apparently it has grown legs since it was invented in 1966. More power to the folks who celebrate it. More money in the till for the businesses that cater to it. Win/win all around.

And the grande dame of them all, Christmas. What is there to say about Christmas that has not already been said? My mother and many other wise old folks always said, "If you cannot say something nice, don't say anything at all." Riiiiight. Sure Mom. I hear ya.

I am sure I have snubbed someones Fall getaway. For this I do apologize. These are the holidays that seem to have captured the lion's share of attention and scrutiny at this time of the year. The attention paid to them has transcended their original intents and become vehicles for the business world to finish the year with as much of our money in their pockets as possible. Yeah I know, I am one of those business folks. That does not mean I have to play stupid.

I learned to hate this time of year. My family did not handle it well. My father's intake of alcohol would increase exponentially as we got closer to the end of the year. The volume of the heated arguments between my mom and my dad would pick up. I remember staying in my room more or staying away from the house as long as possible. My reading picked up this time of year. Libraries wherever we lived would see my face more often. And rather than allow this built in depression get it's grips on me one more time, I figured I would spill my guts now and get it over with. We'll see how it works.

Keep it 'Tween the Ditches..........................

(690 / 15,925)

FFF # 7 - The Lizard

On the sidewalk, fallen between the cracks was the strange man dressed as Carmen Miranda who had earlier walked into the bar and demanded to know who had taken his pet iguana. I knew it was him. I recognized his shoes. I stepped over him and stopped. His rigid pose and soft snore told me he was not at the moment concerned about the iguana. I wondered if he ever hooked back up with the lizard.

"Whoa, lookee there. Nice watch."

Casting a quick coast clearing glance around, I bent down and checked to see what else he had in his possession that might bring a few bucks over to the Triple Globe Pawn Shop. I just loved easy pickins. Slammin em around always grated on me. Too much like work. And besides I never knew when one of them was gonna play the hero. Carmen here was not playing the hero. Carmen was cooperating completely. I gave him a good kick in the ribs to make sure he was really out. Cool. No response.

Taking a second look around for citizens who might want to mind more than their own business, I considered if flipping him over made sense. I seem to remember he had come in the Fifth Street Bar waving around a sizable purse. Gripping fistfuls of his chiffon Rhumba dress at the shoulders and hips, I rolled him in my direction. Yes. The purse was under him.

I grabbed the purse to pick it up. It was then I noticed the shoulder strap. It disappeared up his dress. When I yanked on it, it yanked back. I yanked harder. It yanked harder. A few more times of this and I realized the purse was not going to come of its own free will. I worked on his wrist watch. Damn thing was a strap on with a buckle and clasp. The girly thin leather was clamped hard with about the smallest buckle I had ever seen.

In my trade, I don't have much time to perform my work. I can't dilly dally too long rifling pockets, purses whatever. At some point, someone happens by and wants to know what the Hell is going on. My credo is get in and get out as fast as possible. I reached over to my buck knife stashed in the upside down sheath on my belt. Cutting the watch strap and the purse strap seemed the line of least resistance. I never got the knife out. A rough voice out of nowhere made my hand freeze in mid air.

"Yo Bub"

I looked around almost in a panic. I stood back up. Not a soul anywhere that I could see.

Again, "Yo Bub.............. Hey Asshole, down here."

Still frozen with my eyes up the street, I cautiously tried to see if Carmen had suddenly wakened. Without moving my head, all I could see were those ridiculous shoes. They were not moving. Unnerved for sure now, I very carefully dropped my head down and focused. An ugly lizard with an ugly look in his eyes stared back. Only his head and one clawed foot clutching the purse strap were visible. The rest of him disappeared up Carmen's dress.

"Yeah, that's right, a talkin lizard. Got a problem with that?"

Slowly I began to fix in. "Uh no. I guess not. Just did not expect to see a lizard stuffed up someone’s dress. Caught me off guard is all."

The lizard turned his head sideways and blinked the one eye facing up. Suddenly Carmen's dress seemed to heave and pulsate as the lizard tried to claw his way out from all that purple and pink chiffon. His clawed front feet could not find a purchase on the concrete. He seemed stuck.

"Hey, give me a hand here asshole. You rolled him over on my tail."

I just gazed at the lizard a second too long.

"Come on Jerk Off let's go, let's go. My tails fallin asleep here."

I knelt down. Lifting Ms. Miranda by his hip, I asked, "Hows that?"

No, No, No! Fer Chrisakes, what are you trying to do? Squash me flat. Lift the other hip. I jumped over the prone drunk and lifted. " Ah thanks much." And the lizard scrambled free from the chiffon Rhumba dress.

Neither of us said anything those first few minutes. I was deciding if being caught red handed rolling a drunk by a talking lizard was something I ought to worry about. What if he he talked? Or worse, began to raise a ruckus right here next to the peacefully resting Carmen Miranda? I am a cautious man by nature. Not a chance taker. Like I said, I favor easy pickins. Don't like dealin with heroes, cops, or good Samaritans. I figured I'd just off the lizard and move along once I had filled my pockets. No one gets jail for offing a lizard. Do they?

The lizard must have been a mind reader. He shook his head, looked up at me, and hissed as his mouth opened wide. The spiky ridge along his spine stood up hard and his throat pouch puffed up like a balloon. He did not look happy. He looked mad enough to cause pain if I wasn't careful. "Bub", he hissed, "I got no clue what you are about to do, but if it includes that pitiful excuse for a knife, you can forget that noise. I spit you know. And it ain't pleasant spit. Blind you in a heart beat."

He had knocked me off my game with his claim. I started to back away with my hands out, "Hey no problem. I'll just be on my way. You have a good evening."

"Hold on there Bub. No need to leave on my account." He relaxed his spikes and the throat pouch emptied with a whoosh. "A lizard can't be too careful these days. All kinds of low lifes and losers out here waitin around corners to have their way with me. Just wanted to make sure you knew I could protect myself." The iguana turned around and looked at his former companion lying in a stupor on the sidewalk. "Damn I hate drunks. Wish I had known this before I said yes I'd go to the bar with him. Fool has no capacity for liquor."

"Well where'd you disappear to earlier? Your buddy here was all in a lather about losing you. He even accused Fred the bartender over to the Fifth Street Bar of stealing you. Fred don't steal. He's a perv and a gambler, but he don't steal." I was starting to feel okay with this lizard. He had a way of making me feel comfortable.

"Ah Shit man. I told Richard... Richard's his name by the way, in case you have any interest..... I told the asshole I was going to find some food and maybe some company. Told him I'd be back in an hour. Even paid for more drinks while I was gone. But I guess you can't depend on a drunk to remember anything. He got three sheets to the wind and started a tantrum I guess."

"Where did you go?"

“Spotted the cutest she toad out back of the bar. We hooked up. Let me tell you what, that tongue of hers found places I didn't know I had places.“ The lizard paused and worked up what I thought might be his version of a smile. He looked off into the night. "It's too bad though……… I was hungry too. Shoulda asked her if she had any sisters before I ate her."

I was disgusted and showed it. "Ah man, that's just disgusting. You ate a toad? God. Ew. Yeech."

The lizard turned back and looked at me. “What?........... I’m an iguana ferchrisakes. What do you think we eat? Caviar and truffles? Shoot, if I was big enough, you might be on my menu.”

The Lizard paused. We looked at each other. It’s damn hard to tell when a lizard is kidding by the look on their face. Must be all those scales and teeth. To me they always looked serious.

“So Lizard, what’s your name? Mine’s John, but everyone calls me Easy Picker.”

“Well John my name is Harold. Everyone calls me………..Harold. Glad to meetcha.” Harold raised his right clawed foot in a gesture as old as Mankind and I guess lizard alike. I took it and we shook. “ So John, uh Easy Picker, are you gonna rob Richard here or not? Seems we ought to get a move on before someone comes along.”

The reference to “we” threw me for a second. I had no plans to hook up with a lizard. My act was a solo act. Always seemed to work out the best for everyone concerned that way. “Uh, well John, I guess so. That is if you don’t mind. “ I slowly reached for my buck knife. Harold’s spikes twitched, but quickly relaxed as I unfolded it and slipped the blade under the watch strap. While I pocketed the watch Harold let go of the purse strap. I picked up the purse and opened it.

“Jesus Harold, what the Hell?” Inside the purse was a huge handgun and a roll of bills.

“Yeah, Richard may have liked to dress up like the ladies, but he was a real bad ass in his day. The money’s mine. I hired Richard to be my body guard.”

I picked up the roll of bills and felt its size and weight. “Must be ……..”

“Over 10 grand”, Harold finished the thought for me. “So Easy Picker, you want a job?” Harold turned and looked at Richard in his Rhumba dress sprawled out on the dirty pavement. “Seems I am in need of a new body guard.”

I took a second to filter this new situation. A job? A real job? Hmm. I hadn’t had a real job since Jeez, it had been a long time. That’s for sure. I tossed the roll and the gun back in the purse and tucked it inside my coat. “Sure, why not Harold. Let’s go. I know a great pawn shop that asks no questions.”

“I am sure you do John, I am sure you do. Just give me a sec. I need to ……” And Harold turned and disappeared back up Carmen Miranda’s dress. The chiffon billowed this way. The chiffon billowed that way. Mild curse words could be heard. Finally Harold emerged with a smaller version of the same fruity bonnet that Richard/Carmen had been wearing. Once again out from under the frilly dress, he reached inside the bonnet. He came out with a half burned cigar. Stuffed it between his lizard lips and looked up at me. “Got a light?”

“No Harold, I don’t smoke. Let’s get moving. The pawn shop closes at midnight.” We headed down the dark street. I couldn’t stand it any longer.

“What’s up with the hat there Harold. You a perv too?”

“What? You think an iguana wearing a Carmen Miranda bonnet is odd? What about you? I mean, if you wanted to pull off the WC Fields look, you could have at least picked out a tux that fit.”

I stopped. Harold stopped. I looked him in the eye and said, “Get it right Lizard. Fred Astaire. Not WC Fields. Jeez, you lizards can be so numb sometimes.”


________________________________________

That was a hoot. Had some fun with this one. Fun like this is probably illegal somewhere. Since I could not pick which sentence to go with, I used them both. Kind of worked I guess.

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

(1908 / 15,235)

Random Thinking While Waking Up

Some days that first cup of coffee just tastes better than other days. This morning's first cup is especially delicious. I often wonder why this is. And why do I waste time dwelling on personal pleasures when what I should be doing is trying to make this World a better place?

You know what? Screw the World for awhile. I am just going to enjoy my first cup of coffee, sit here and be snarky. Later today I will save the World.

Damn, this cup of coffee is good. If I could remember how many scoops of grounds I put in, then maybe I could repeat this pot another time. But as usual, when I decide to make the coffee, some odds board in Vegas lights up with all the various probabilities of how it will turn out. I believe in free form coffee. Like a free spirit coffee. Never know what will come out of the pot. Weak see through Joe or stand up to a spoon caffeinated mud. It's always a crap shoot. This morning I nailed it. Strong enough to jiggle the hairs on my neck, but not so strong they tried to escape.

My darling significant other wifey poo, snookums lovely lady of my life who also happens to be an accountant has a more structured approach to making coffee. She has a more structured approach to almost everything. Everything she does is pared down to specifics with an eye on being as efficient as possible. Once a thing is known and processes worked out, every time that thing or activity is waged, it is waged the same. Not robot like, but certainly not the loose dog way I always work through things.

And because this post is all about random, I guess I need to switch gears. Or is it subjects? Gears sounds cooler. Like I am revin her up and getting ready to punch it, Marge.

I visited another blog yesterday. It is not on my A list, but I keep in touch. A political blog by a woman who fancies herself as the ultimate conservative babe in the world. This woman is definitely not short on ego. She is also not tolerant of any thought that she feels wanders from her narrow view of how the World is. I used to take her on in her comment section. But it seems she always has her blinders on and her MP3 tuned in with Beck, Hannity, or Coulter re-runs. An America, Love it or Leave it kinda gal. So now when I visit, I keep my mouth shut.

She doesn't intimidate me. Her rhetoric is the same old crap I hear from that side of the fence. I just find it futile to argue with a brick. A dense brick. But she writes half decently and her rage is quite funny. Yesterday her ranting was about Men.

She had stumbled upon some article somewhere about how modern men are the wimpiest men who so far have lived on this planet. Some anthropologist wrote the article and with this one opinion in hand, she agrees that the men she has to deal with now are no where as manly as Gorg who brought down mastodons with his bare hands back in the day.

The kicker of of course is she does not just take the opinion of one anthropologist as word, she adds her own interpretation or maybe expansion of the reason men are limp wristed flaccid losers now days. She blames Liberalism.

She compliments the Men of the right in so far as she thinks their conservative values are manly, but she goes on that the stink of liberalism has also turned them into metrosexual over sensitive losers because they are surrounded by the overwhelming stench of a society lost to the socialist pinko commie lifestyle. She did not say this in exactly this way, but this is what she meant.

Maybe it is because of my age, but I found her manic post to be especially funny. I laughed my way through it.

Which brings me back to saving the World and thus negates any claim on my part that this morning's thoughts were random.

As I read her rant, all I could think of is all the similar rants I have been hearing from the loudmouths on the Right. Specifically their rose colored image of how "things used to be" and how it would be oh so great, oh so special if we could turn back the clock. I thought that if I could invent a time machine and send all their sorry butts back a few centuries, that might not be saving the World, but it certainly would be an improvement.

I am off to slay the dragon or drain the lizard - whichever comes first.........

(790 / 13,327)

I am a Lumberjack and I'm Okay

At first I thought this blogging medium was a great way for folks to come out of their individual shells and mind meld like Spock and all would become one huge intelligence that would transcend the need for bickering and flicking boogers at each other.

Of course that was just me having an Acid flashback.

Neighborhoods. Specifically Blogging neighborhoods. Clicks, political groups, genre groupies, Mommy bloggers, whatever. This blogging world may encompass the planet, but per human tendencies, it has broken itself down into insular little enclaves that often seem unfriendly to those strangers passing by. Jeez, imagine that. Just like the real world.

However, (I just love this word - easier to type than "on the other hand" and is even more confusing when one looks at it by itself. However? What the Hell is however?) Where was I?

Oh yeah - However and on the other hand, the Internet has made the World smaller and the neighborhoods bigger. I know what you are thinking. "Wow Mike, what an awesome observation." And now, breath held and on the edge of your seat, you can't wait for the follow up...................... Uh, I sat down this morning with every intention of writing a serious and well thought out post that would make up for the useless post of yesterday. Hmm. Seems I haven't shaken the useless thing yet. All I want to do is be silly and poke fun at us humans because really folks, come on now..... We are pretty silly most of the time. I'd say stupid, but well I am including more people than myself here.

As I usually do, I searched for the reason behind my recent fall from seriousness. Why all of a sudden has Life ceased being nothing to joke about? I mean Jeez, if you can't take Life seriously, how the Hell can you expect to take anything seriously? Seriously. No foolin around..........Okay, you in the back - stop that snickering.


After much introspection, exospection, misdirection and a couple of minor erections, I have concluded it is the fault of Monty Python. Yeah that's right. I found someone else to blame for my foibles. failings and deviant behaviors. I am sure my dearly departed parents are breathing a sigh of relief that they had no part in this. But if I had a therapist, and could afford one given that my insurance doesn't cover loony stuff - well my therapist would probably disagree and ask me how did I feel while still in the womb knowing I would probably not like the World I was being forced into and that's why I decided to come out ass first.

My favorite cable channel, IFC, has recently been airing all kinds of programming about Monty Python. Their movies, many of their skits, and even more interesting in some ways, the back stories behind their rise to fame. And of course I have been there face glued to the screen reliving those moments of gut splitting pleasure I had as a younger man when they first invaded our country via that commie lib medium, PBS. Odd though, it was my Goldwater Conservative mom who turned me onto them. I know this flies in the face of the rumor that Conservatives have no sense of humor, but there you have it. Anecdotal evidence. What more could you ask for?

I know I promised to do better next time, and I am trying. But I need to purge my undersized brain of all the sensory over load comprised of huge feet, big teeth and fish slapping. I'll be better once IFC goes back to showing films with subtitles.

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

(608 / 12,537)

Worthless Post about a Useless Human

So I am looking around for stuff to write about, rant about. I found some glimmer of interest and hope inside when I spotted the story about a French gay soccer team and a French Muslim soccer team. But as it turns out, just more of your basic religiously wrapped homophobic crap. Play ball ferchrisakes. The French have their own way and their own thing. Given the weirdness we come up with here in the States, I hesitate to call any furriner on the carpet. I moved on.

I was so stoked to have my first cup of coffee this AM, I actually made it myself. No, the World did not come to a screeching halt. I have not, to my knowledge, received a recent blow to the head. I just had a hankering for some Joe earlier than the usual 4:30/5:00 AM perk off. I'm standing around tapping my feet waiting for the coffee to finish perking ferchrisakes hurry it up , I need caffeine, when on the small analog older than dirt TV sitting near the kitchen table, a story uniquely American comes on. Well maybe not uniquely American, but it came as no surprise to me. We have our fair share of shallow and useless people.

Seems some jet setting Hollywood bimbo who also happens to be blond with perfect teeth and a permanent false smile has raised eyebrows of even the most jaded entertainment sycophants. Apparently she refused to go to her 26 year old sister's birthday party. If we stop here, this seems like personal business we should have no real interest in. Family shit and all that. Sisters can be brutal to each other. But of course the credo of the Hollywood rag reporter is find a story no matter what. It appears this young bimbo would not go to her sisters birthday party because she was not being paid to appear. In your face Sis.

I thought this incident would have more impact if I knew who was involved. But it turns out, no, knowing their name means nothing. Who the Hell is Heidi Montag and what has she done to deserve this much notoriety?

Yeah, yeah, yeah. I just wasted 15 minutes of my life I will never see again reading Wiki's entry about this useless and talentless human. And to make this whole joke even more bee-zarre, I am subjecting myself to more self flagellation by writing about her here. Some days I guess I just wake up in a S&M frame of mind.

I promise to do better next time.................

(426 / 11,929)

A Forest of a Million Trees

A forest of a million trees stand strong
In their shadows a billion saplings stand defiant
Slowly growing, slowly withering, waiting their turn
Their chance to see the sky and rule the Earth.

The forest dies when one of them forgets
Their mutual needs, their shared destinies.
Ignoring their entwined roots
Grasping that same piece of earth
Separately they become less
Together they become more
_______________________________________

A small nugget I found while running back through my old posts and drafts listing. An obvious attempt to wax philosophical and political at the same time. As usual with my crude poetic efforts, it feels unfinished, but .......

(104 / 11,503)

FFF #6 - The Canoe

"You know Javier, poets say that in the spring a young man's thoughts turn to love, but I think they're wrong. It doesn't matter what season it is, young men are always horny. Love has nothing to do with it."

Pop looked at his son standing at the other end of the over turned canoe. Javier didn't say anything, but he was grinning. Hearing his ole man spout off about being horny made him laugh. He remembered the days when talk like that would make him blush.

"Pop, give me a break. Joshua is only seven. His thoughts are about baseball, riding his bike, and video games. Old farts like you are supposed to have forgotten about horny and such nonsense. Grab the end of the canoe and let's hit the road."

Pop grabbed his end of the canoe silently and they headed up the hill to the pick up. Instead of working with the rough terrain, the narrow footpath that led to the parking area fought it's way to the top. Hiking it with nothing in hand was difficult. Hiking it with a 16 foot cedar strip canoe was dangerous. Half way up Javier's foot slipped.

That day played through Pop's head one more time as he stood in front of the stove lifting the edge of a pancake from the griddle to see if it was ready to add to the growing pile on the plate next to the stove. He remembered his son's last day on the planet like it was yesterday not two years ago. At least now he did not fall into a weeping crumpled heap unable to function at all. But the deep ache his soul had replaced it with some days seemed worse. He often wondered how it was possible to hold so much grief and still make it through the day.

To say Javier had been the light of Pop's life was not enough. The stress of Javier's birth had killed Pop's life companion. The woman he had loved since elementary school had left him a widower and a brand new father without a clue. Christ, he had not even gone to Lamaze classes with Julie. His truck driving job at the time kept him out 6 days of every 7. And now he was in charge of an infant.

Remembering the early days with Javier made the pain of his recent death diminish. Pop smiled as he ran through all the mistakes he made as he hamfisted his way through those first years. The backwards diapers. Finding out just how weak his stomach was regarding baby puke, baby shit, baby fluids. And finally the day he walked in Javier's room to see his smiling son buck naked in his crib waving around his shitty diaper like a lasso and poop spread out on the walls, pictures, and the closet door. No matter how he felt when he remembered this memory, re-running it through his mind always made him smile.

Pop flipped the pancake. His smile faded. He was back in the here and now. And now he had to get Joshua's ass in gear so they could go visit his parents graves. He had no desire to go. But he had promised Joshua a day of fishing and remembrance. Joshua wanted to lay flowers on the graves.

"Joshua! Get your ass out of bed boy. Let's go, let's go. Pancakes this morning!"

From the narrow hallway that lead into the kitchen, "Okay Pop! Don't yell. I'm up and almost........." Joshua came skittering into the kitchen and slipped as his sock covered feet hit the linoleum. Pop's heart stopped as he watched the last living relative he had fall backwards and slam to the floor on his back.

Pop dropped the flipper and lurched towards Joshua. On his back, all Joshua could do was hold his eyes open. For some reason he couldn't catch his breath. He began to flop and make that anguishing sound of someone desperately trying to find some air. Any air. Once, twice, Joshua inhaled but there was nothing. Just as Pop got to him, the third attempt brought him relief. With a huge gasp Joshua caught his breath and Pop relaxed.

"Jesus H Christ Josh, I told you about running in the house!" Pop turned away from Joshua as his hands began to shake and he thought, "I can't lose another loved one. Not again."

"I'm okay Pop."

"Well stand up and let me check out that noggin. Sounded like it took a shot. Maybe oughta check the floor for damage while we are at it. Whata ya think?"

Pop ran his hands over Josh's head. Josh had a nice bump starting to grow. Immediately Pop was drawn back two years when he did the same thing to Javier's head. It was no big thing either of them thought. Little did they know, Javier would not live through the night. Pop shook off the memory.

"Ah, you're okay ya little rascal. Sit down and have some pancakes. Big day today." He tousled Josh's hair and reminded himself to check Josh in another hour and every hour for the next 24.

Joshua sat at the kitchen table. He was a scrawny kid, his head and shoulders just topping the table. Pop had tried to get him to use the booster seat, but Joshua insisted he was a big boy now. Booster seats were for babies. Having learned to pick the battles he wanted to wage, Pop let it go. If the kid was happy to sit eye level with his grub, so what. Pop set a plate down in front of Joshua and then set himself one.

They both concentrated on their breakfast. Joshua was hungry and Pop was reflective. His appetite seemed to be fading as the years stacked up. He ate, but did so only because he knew he needed to. Food really brought him no pleasure anymore. He laid down his fork, wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his shirt.

"Josh? I know I said we would go fishing today, but I thought we might change things around some today."

"How's That Pop?" Joshua still had a mouthful of food and when he said "Pop". Some half chewed pancake spurted from his mouth.

"Jesus Josh, what did I say about talking with your mouth full?"

Josh sat there with his fork standing up on the table, his lips pursed out from pancake overload and just looked at Pop. His chewing action became more animated, followed closely with an exaggerated swallowing motion. Looking at his fork, he said, "Well Pop, you shouldn't ask me a question when my mouth is full."

Pop almost spit up his orange juice. "Yes Josh, you may have a point." Pop looked at his grandson. He was not one to draw family resemblances when there were none. But Josh was looking more and more like he did when he was a young man. Josh really did not favor either Javier or Susan. But he seemed to be growing into a Pop look alike. "Poor Kid", he thought.

"So Pop." Joshua was now holding his fork up high and looking at it again. "What are you going to change about today? We're still going fishing right? And go to Mom and Dad's grave?"

"Yes Josh, we'll do both. But first I thought we might spend some time in the Garage fixing........."

"The Canoe?" Josh started butt jumping in his seat. His head bobbed up and down. "Oh boy Pop, the canoe. Please, please, please."

"Yes, the canoe. Only because I am tired of hearing about it. And besides, we should either fix it or get rid of it. If you are done fiddle fartin around, why don't you head upstairs and get dressed. I'll be in the garage."

Joshua moved the fork so that he was staring at Pop through it. He grinned and let it fall to his plate with a clatter. His earlier fall forgotten, he jumped off his chair and tore out of the kitchen. Pop started to yell, but with a shrug, smiled. Damn near impossible to yell at an empty room and get any results. He grabbed his hat and headed outside to the garage.

The cedar strip canoe hung from the ceiling joists in the garage. Pop had not been able to bring himself to touch it since the day of Javier's accident. When Javier slipped carrying it, the canoe had been damaged as it followed Javier down the hill. Mostly superficial damage he thought, but it had been two years since he looked at it. They would have to pull it down to find out.

Pop stood under the canoe. Two years later he still had trouble understanding how that day had played out. Tragedies like this never piled up on one family with such vengeance. Javier had bounced off a couple of rocks but had seemed okay. They hauled the canoe home. Javier told Pop to wake him up around 4:00PM . He was going to lay down, his head hurt. Susan was flying in from her business trip and Javier wanted to be fresh when he picked her up. At 4:00 PM , Pop was unable to wake up Javier. His breathing was almost nonexistent. Pop called 9-1-1. While they were headed to the small hospital in town, Susan's plane went down. Wind shear they later concluded. But Pop did not find out until after hours of watching his son die.

The canoe always brought back that day in vivid detail. Pop always asked himself why he put himself through this. Just burn the canoe, bust it up. sell it. But he could not. He and Javier had spent many hours planning and then building that canoe. Every piece and part of it had their fingerprints on it. They had used it every summer for 18 years. That canoe was as much a part of their family as they were. One day Pop hoped, Joshua would use it with his son.

"Pop, why are you crying?"

Pop turned suddenly. He quickly wiped his eyes with his sleeve. He just looked at Joshua and said nothing.

"It's Mom and Dad huh?"

"Yes Josh, it's your mom and dad. I miss them terribly."

"Me too Pop." Joshua was crying now also. "Pop, we don't have to fix the canoe. Let's just go fishin. You know, it's too bad we couldn't have sent them off on one of the , uh, you know the guys with horns on their helmets. When one of them dies, they send them off in a burning boat. The canoe would have been perfect, huh Pop?"

Pop grabbed Joshua and picked him up to eye level. "Son", Pop had never called Josh that, "Son, out of the mouths of babes." He set Joshua down. "Here help me with the canoe. We're going to "fix it" alright."

A couple of days later in the "Stuckey News", a small article about vandals and the local cemetery popped up on the bottom fold of the front page. It seems Albert Simmons, the caretaker, found the burned out shell of what appeared to be a well made cedar strip canoe draped over two headstones at the back of the cemetery. All he had to say was, "At least they didn't knock over any more headstones." Police are investigating.

__________________________________

So goes my effort this week. See ya............

(1903 / 11,399)

Head in a Hole

So I have been doing my best of late to ignore the Universe outside the small world I exist in most days. I have been doing this only so that I can marshall the few synapses I have left to more important things like keeping me sane and my business going. Best intentions and all aside, I still get yanked back into the madness that has no real affect on my day to day existence. The Gay marriage thing for instance. The whole intolerant Religious thing. And last but not least, the stupidity that seems to run our government. All of these issues, while they may be important in the long run, have no immediate impact on my world in the present tense.

Yes, I have been doing my best at keeping my head in a hole. A kinder way of putting it but less accurate, might be to say I have been trying to keep an eye on the ball. Specifically my ball. Not everyone else's ball. But my ball. Unfortunately, I now must pull my head out of..........my hole and pay attention to the other balls bouncing around me. It is coming up on November. In a couple of weeks I must once again trudge down to the town hall and cast ballots that will affect many balls bouncing around my state.

In that no one is running for something, this election is about referendums. State referendums. If I had been born into a less civic minded family, it would be easy for me to blow this election off. Ancestors from graves far flung would congregate at the foot of my bed in the middle of the night and haunt my dreams forever if I did not carry out this minor obligation of living in this country. Besides, I want to feel I have earned the right to bitch and complain. I would feel less empowered to do so had I not cast my vote.

The referendums on the ballot this November in Maine are really cool ones. Yeah, there's at least one of the typical bond ones that ask my permission to let the state borrow money for this or that. Some of the referendums here in Maine this year are being scrutinized by groups all over the country. We seem to have compiled a list of questions that just scream controversy.

The Questions

Here is the final list of Maine referendum questions that will appear on the November 3, 2009 ballot:

Question 1: People’s Veto
An Act To End Discrimination in Civil Marriage and Affirm Religious Freedom
“Do you want to reject the new law that lets same-sex couples marry and allows individuals and religious groups to refuse to perform these marriages?”

Question 2: Citizen Initiative
An Act to Decrease the Automobile Excise Tax and Promote Energy
“Do you want to cut the rate of the municipal excise tax by an average of 55% on motor vehicles less than six years old and exempt hybrid and other alternative-energy and highly fuel-efficient motor vehicles from sales tax and three years of excise tax?”

Question 3: Citizen Initiative
An Act to Repeal the School District Consolidation Laws
“Do you want to repeal the 2007 law on school district consolidation and restore the laws previously in effect?”

Question 4: Citizen Initiative
An Act to Provide Tax Relief
“Do you want to change the existing formulas that limit state and local government spending and require voter approval by referendum for spending over those limits and for increases in state taxes?”

Question 5: Citizen Initiative
An Act to Establish the Maine Medical Marijuana Act
“Do you want to change the medical marijuana laws to allow treatment of more medical conditions and to create a regulated system of distribution?”

Question 6: Bond Issue
(Part A of Ch. 414, Public Laws of 2009)
“Do you favor a $71,250,000 bond issue for improvements to highways and bridges, airports, public transit facilities, ferry and port facilities, including port and harbor structures, as well as funds for the Life Flight Foundation that will make the State eligible for over $148,000,000 in federal and other matching funds?”

Question 7: Constitutional Amendment
(Ch. 1, Constitutional Resolutions of 2009)
“Do you favor amending the Constitution of Maine to increase the amount of time that local officials have to certify the signatures on direct initiative petitions?”

An impressive list no? We have Gays, Drugs, Religion, and Education all being addressed by our citizenry on a one by one basis. None of which has any immediate effect on me personally. But most will affect many of the people I know and consider friends. So I will cast my ballot and hope for the best.

I am also going to break with my tradition of keeping my vote to myself before the fact. What follows is how I will vote and why.

Question 1 - No of course. Gay marriage should be a non issue except in the religious arena. And this law allows the right of religions to refuse to marry them. But ensures that the state will.

Question 2 - No - This is not the time to cut taxes.

Question 3 - Yes - I was against the school consolidation in the beginning. I am still against it. Here's my chance to make it go away.

Question 4 - No - Why elect people to run things for us if we are going to try and do it ourselves. If you do not like the tax situation, elect officials that are on the same page as you. This circumnavigation technique is nothing but an effort to allow small focus groups to dictate law in our state.

Question 5 - Yes - Pot laws are stupid. This is a step in the right direction.

Question 6 - Yes - Any deal that means my state will get twice as much money in matching funds and might just fix a few potholes and bridges is okay in my book. We need to do something about the sad state of our infrastructure.

Question 7 - ????? - Not sure here. I need more information. Amending a constitution should not be done without serious consideration.

So there you have it. A list of questions that need answers. Answers that can only be supplied by those Mainers who feel the obligation to answer them. Turnout for these type of off year elections are historically low. Something tells me it will not be the case this time.

See you on the other side...............................

(1083 / 9496)

Off the Deep End

My wife received this fax last week. An organization known as "America Forever" out of Draper, Utah sent it. According to them since I voted for these two Republicans I am responsible for the destruction of this country. "You will be as responsible as they are for bringing down this nation into destruction."

Hmm. That's some heavy responsibility someone from Utah has decided to toss onto my shoulders. Our future children are doomed to be raised in Godless homosexual Hell and we as a species will be doomed for all eternity because of Olympia Snowe and Susan Collins. Makes me wonder what kind of God fearing religious state we would be living in if these bozos from Utah were in charge. Visions of Iran come to mind.

At first I was amused. Quickly however I got very fired up. Seems I remember just a day or two ago, or Yeah, that's right, less than 24 hours ago mumbling something in my blog about waiting for my righteous indignation tank to fill up again. It's full to bursting now I'll tell ya. I am not fond of folks telling me I am evil based on my political or religious views. I am especially not fond of homophobic idiots from away who barge into my state to shove their narrow minded selfish agenda down my throat. You losers from Utah who push this hateful crap can shove any future faxes up your ass. Keep your bigoted ideals to yourselves and screw up your own state. Stay away from mine.

This fax is a piece of garbage, the likes of which I have not seen in a long time. And besides, this country is facing more serious issues than whether homosexuals can legally be married. This should not even be an issue. But it is. And I resent it. I resent assholes from away coming into my state burning money raised from pews outside my state to try and dictate their mores into the laws of my state. Go screw yourselves. If I could vote NO on question one more than once, I would do it. Just to piss you idiots off even more than you are now. What a stupid issue to get worked up over. Homosexuality is a fact of Life and has been for all of recorded history. We have survived just fine so far with gay people. If the World ends anytime soon based on God's Will, it will most likely be because you assholes got his message wrong. Tolerance not bigotry, you boneheads!

And suddenly a calm whiff of sanity finds Mike. He sits back after venting his spleen and the screen goes out of focus. He envisions Buddha inspired images of the new valve caps on his new ride and he realizes that this is nothing. These people mean nothing. They can only piss him off. And only if he lets them. Just giving them time in his mind is allowing them more room than they deserve. Mike knows that they will never control him. He just needs to not let them own even this much of him.

And so dear friends another trip on the wrong side of my temper has successfully concluded. I ramped up my blood pressure when a poll taker called me about my vote on the gay marriage question (#1) coming up this November. I felt bad for the poll guy. He was pulling for the gay folks as was I, but I tore off a rant that makes this one look tame and polite by comparison. He thanked me for my opinion and my vote and meekly hung up. Sorry poll guy. At least you know where I stand.

To any and all Mainers who might read this -

Vote NO on Question 1.

Kick those holier than thou homophobic losers back to Utah where they belong.

The stupidity never ends....................

(614 / 8413)

3:45 AM

It's 3:45 AM Thursday morning. I have been wandering aimlessly through the Internet backwaters, not really looking for anything in particular. Like a kid kickin a can down the street and following it wherever it led him. I am only semi awake I guess. Much of what I have stumbled upon this dark thirty should have raised more than just my eyebrow. But there it is. Obnoxious websites spouting hate and discontent and all I can do is grunt in disgust. I have bookmarked a few to return to later once my Righteous Indignation tank has been re-filled. Or when I wake up. Which ever comes first.

Since it is flu season, and also a flu season brought in with much more fanfare than the usual media blitzkrieg, many people, including yours truly, keep wondering when their number will be up. All around folks have been dropping like flies and yet I am still standing. I did not get a flu shot. Come to think of it I have never gotten a flu shot. And every so often I get the flu or a cold. Hmm. Do you think there is a correlation?

So a few days ago as my wife was recovering from a bad cold, I began to notice "the tickle" in the back of my throat. At first I decided it was like when she was pregnant, I was just experiencing sympathy tickles. Then I decided that no, I was probably most likely going to have to deal with what she just went through.

Of all the various ways illnesses manifest themselves in my body, coughing has to be the one that drives me the craziest. I hate coughing. I fear coughing. I will do or try almost anything to not have to cough. Almost anything.

So my wife suggests I eat lots of vitamin C tabs over the course of the day. I listen and say "Yes Dear." And I think, "Right. How's that plan worked out for you so far?" In desperation though, I have been pounding down the C tabs every few hours. The cough has come. The achy ear has come home to roost. But up until today I have managed to avoid the worse of the worst. And today I feel like dog shit.

Did I just put off the inevitable? Or will this be as bad as it gets and tomorrow I will be spry and handsome again?

Stay tuned...................

(407 / 7799)