Poking Bears

Okay so I broke one of my own rules.  It was a rule I imposed on myself when it was grossly apparent I had gotten out of control.

My introduction to online Internet interactions began back in the days of the 1990s newsgroups.  The software was crude and the screens were boring, but the conversations were no holds barred, knock down, kick em in the nuts conversations.  I was in pig heaven.

The software improved and suddenly "forums" and blogs plopped into my online life.  Uh oh.  I did not see it coming, but trouble with a capital T was sneaking up on me.  I dove into the forum circuit like a fly, well you know what I mean.  There at the end of it all, I was participating in over twenty different forums.  You could find me most days on more than a few cycling forums, at least one "The south will rise again" forum, and numerous other forums, mostly political in slant.  I loved the "south will rise again" forum.  There were so many bears to poke and most of them lead with their chin.

My skill set on the forums was solid.  I was a good troll.  I was able to hold my temper online while seething about to blow a gasket offline.  And I made valid points on a semi regular basis.  Bear poking was what I lived for.  Sleep was lost.  Time was wasted.  Eventually one day, I knew I had to give it up.

The Internet was taking over my life.  I vowed to never visit another forum again.  So I started my blog.  That was in 2004.   Blogging became my Internet passion and still is. But sadly the blog thing had to be cut back also.  I found I was spending more time than I should on it.  So this year I cut back my participation.  I could/can not stop the blog completely however.  I like to write and it still offers the best platform I have found for me to do that.

So anyway, while this election season was building to its crescendo, I noticed an invite to join a new kind of forum.  A political forum but one with some of the  new fangled "social" attributes attached.  So I visited.  I was only going to lurk.  Really.  That was the plan I swear. I had no plan to fall off the wagon.  I should have known that temptation and I are never a good mix.  So I joined.  The hunting ground was flush with game.  So many bears to poke I could have three sticks workin 24/7  and never poke them all. 

I have finally regained some perspective and control I think.  What do I bring away from it?  The Right is a very angry crew.  The Right is so angry, they cannot even hope to think straight.  There are reasonable Right Wing voices, but they are few and far between.  And I feel bad about that when once upon a time I used to feel great joy at pissing them off.   Now All I have to do to elevate their anger from really angry to over the top spittle comin out their mouth anger is disagree with them.  It is sad really and no fun because it takes no effort at all to poke the bear anymore.  All I have to do to make them angry now is exist.

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

The Next Day

After I voted yesterday I did my best to remain calm, semi cool, and somewhat collected.  I turned off all instruments of mass communication.  I found chores I could mindlessly perform to at least keep my hands busy.  All for naught.  By 9:00 PM  I was crazed.  I forced myself into bed.  I laid there wondering who was winning what and what was beating who.  I fell asleep at some point.

It was 1:30 or so in the AM when Fernando decided to rub his perpetually wet cold nose on my face.  My eyes sprung open, my hands reached to throttle him, and my legs performed some sort of automatic move that brought me to my feet in about one second.  "Goddamned cat.  Come here you little shit.  Waking me up.  You wait you little bastard until I get my............."  All the while my feet moved of their own accord towards the living room.

Automatic reflexes had kicked in as I simultaneously reached for the remote just as my lard butt hit the cushions of the couch.  I flicked on the TV.  It was still set on the same channel I had on over twlve hours earlier; one of those low rent Liberal news channels.  Still half awake I struggled to focus on the graphic image on the screen.  "That can't be right," I thought.  I looked again and there it was, that's waht I'm talkin about, right there in Red and Blue - four more years of the O Man.  Oh fuckin yeah.  Immediately a heavy weight lifted off my shoulders and I became instantly wide awake.  He frickin did  it.  The frickin bastard pulled it off.  he and his boys were the smartest guys in the room after all.

I had gotten to the point in this election a few weeks ago when I couldn't stand to hear Romney speak.  It drove my wife bonkers.  As soon as one of his ads or speech segments came on I made a mad dash to the remote to mute his voice.  I could not listen to him anymore.  But I sat there on the couch a few hours ago and live in person as it happened, listened and watched Mitt Romney concede the race to his arch rival.  It was the best concession speech I have ever heard.  He stood tall all alone and looked presidential when he gave it.  His words were upbeat and I could tell he probably meant every word.  Props to the Mitt.  He fought hard.  When it came time to admit defeat he sucked it up and handled with dignity, grace and whole lot of class..

Turns out Fernando did me a favor.  He must have had his cat like radar tuned into the other universe that really dictates ours.  In that other universe, all things past are forgotten, but anything coming is known in advance by at least five minutes before it makes here for our consumption.  He was just looking out for my interests because he is one of my true buds.  So I snatched the little bastard up and gave him a ten minute belly rub.  Both of us were happy now.

Okay, it's time to move along now and get on with it.................................

Election Day

So I voted today.  Just got back as a matter of fact.  All total, took me a 30  minutes plus or minus.   I left my house, walked down Sam Page Road past John's house, past Joe and Nancy's spread and past Jim's house to the corner of the H Road.  Left 100 yards and then I cut across and over the short hill where the town WWll veteran memorial sat facing the road.  Stopping for a moment of silence in front of the marble monument with the names of our local fallen chiseled into the stone, I considered what I had come for and why.

My first thought was about the convenience of using this solemn spot to cut short the distance to this years voting booths.  And then I looked at the names so neatly laid into that stone and checked for some I might recognize.  The was Goding, Winchell, and some other well used local names.  I looked at the names lined up cleanly in four rows and decided that why I had also chosen to pass this way was to honor those names.  I had done it for at least the last 3 or 4 elections.  These dead soldiers had given their lives for this country and I figured that voting was the least I could do to let them know they had not died in vain.

Some moments later I looked over at Town Hall.  Time to get it done.  Inside Town Hall, now election central - Acton Maine, the same voting booths I had used for as long as I remembered voting in Acton had been set up along the back wall.  Pulling up at the check in table, once again my next door neighbor was one of the two check in ladies.  A-L to the left.  M- Z to the right.  Nancy was in charge of A-L.  We exchanged cordial greetings as the gal controlling M-Z  looked up my name.  She crossed out a box next to my name and handed me two ballots.  She looked me in the eye.  "You have two ballots.  One is for the state and national elections . It has two sides. please fill out both.  One is a town ballot with just one question."

I was about to head for the booths when she followed up quickly,   "Now there have been some changes.........."

I suddenly became nervous.  There were changes in how I have voted for the last 30 plus years?  Oh no.  Shit.  I am not liking this.

"........On the state and national ballot you no longer X out the box with a pencil.  This year you need to fill in the circle.  That means fill it in, don't just mark it."  She looked at me to make sure I got it.

"Uh okay.  Got it. But why is it different?"

"The ballots are read by machine now."

I said something about how it felt like I was in Ohio what with the high falutin technology and all.  All I got back was a look that said, "Really?  Like I haven't heard that one 20 times already today."

Ballots in hand I slipped past her side of the table and sauntered over to the one booth open at the moment.  Stepped in and noticed tied with a granny knot, not one of my old friends the stubby pencil with no eraser, but a slick new felt pen.  I shrugged or grunted or in some other way acknowledged this step into the brighter and newer future of voting in Acton, Maine and got right to work filling in the circles next to my choices.

President - Obama./Biden - check
Senator - Angus King - check
House - Chellie Pingree - check

And so on down the line to finish with Judge of Probate.  I flipped it over and the five referendum questions looked up at me.  Checked yes on all of them.  Gay Marriage and the rest that ensured we Mainers would continue to be in debt for the foreseeable future.  And I felt not one iota of guilt.  We need to keep up our infrastructure up to at least crappy status.

When I had finished the General election ballot, I unfolded the town generated ballot.  "Cool, we have our own special ballot."  That added an uptick in the importance of this year's vote.  I checked off yes and left the booth.

Up until this election, Acton had been using two wooden boxes with a slide covers into which we stuffed our ballots.  Each one was  attended to by a dedicated volunteer.  Those locally fabricated boxes had served us well as long as I could remember.  We needed two when there was a local question in addition to anything either state wide or national.  Guess keepin them separated saved time at the countin end.  Today I walked over and there was only one of the old boxes with the slide cover.  In place of the other one sitting loud and proud on a very rugged steel frame, was what looked like a copier with a TV screen.  The friendly fellow responsible for this machine said, "Just feed it right in there."  He pointed to the intake port of the copier.

I fed the paper in and up popped on the screen "Your Vote has been counted".  I smiled and in my best local old dubber dialect, "Well ain't that fancy."  Just like James Bond."  The nice fellow smiled and said, "You're all done."  He said it in a way that let me know there was no dawdlin or foolin around.  He had votes to process.

I grinned and left.  I passed by that WWll Veteran monument again and paused again.  I looked at the flags on each side of it and smiled.  "This is still a grand country, no matter what we try to do with it.  Hope you guys are watching.  We're still here strokin."  I tipped my hat and strolled home.

On the way back up the hill I realized that I did not enjoy this vote as much as I have other votes in the past.  It wasn't all the hate and discontent surrounding this election.  It wasn't the down to the wire part.  It was those damn stubby pencils that had been replaced with felt pens and that alien looking machine that replaced one of the wooden boxes with the slide covers.  Their absence reinforced that even in boondocks Acton, Maine we can never go back or keep things as they were.  Even Acton has to face the future.  And that means so do I.  And sometimes that makes me nervous.


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

I Blame My Parents

Right after the last mid-term election I vowed as I have done after almost every election before to stop paying attention to politics.  Following politics is a sick passion and useless endeavor.  But like a rubbernecker passing that 5 car pile up on the Beltway, I cannot seem to keep my eyes on the road.  I  have to look, just a peek I figure won't hurt.  Yeah right.  One look and I get sucked in once again.  So it has happened to me this time as it has so many times before.

I blame my parents.  Damn them.  I blame my oldest brother what with his know it all superior I know how you should feel about this candidate, that candidate and those loser welfare queens in the Bronx. I was inundated, saturated, and generally overwhelmed by the heated political discourse that took over the family conversations at dinner, in the car going somewhere, or after either parent read the op/ed page in the morning paper.  Letters to the editor were especially volatile.  My father would often zero in on them right after he had consumed the front page.  It was a good morning when all I heard was an occasional grunt or snort.  But if one of those letters pushed the right button, the man was off and running amok.  "Goddammit ,......." I learned to leave the room once he had flipped to the Letters section.

So my passion for the political process came to me honestly and without my permission.  I had no choice.  If I was going to survive in a house full of political junkies, it was either slink away and become a shut in or join in and take my lumps as a rookie.  And I took those lumps.  I would like to remember the early years of my political education as a time when I stood up and held my own.  Fought the good fight and took no prisoners.  The reality though is etched in my mind.  I was dog food, easy pickins, the family chump.The fact that I was still not 10 years old when I chose to take part did not mean I was given any slack, sympathy or treated with kid gloves.  I cannot remember how many times I was drawn and quartered by either parent or my oldest brother.  If you led with your chin in our house, someone was going to tag it.  Age and inexperience had nothing to do with it.

I assumed every other kid had the same experience in their homes.  It wasn't until I was in my early teens and poaching a dinner at a friends house that I discovered some families did not discuss politics at the dinner table.  The Billy Sol Estes/ Lyndon Johnson scandal was all over the news.  I remember I was a tad uncomfortable sitting there and no one was talking.  They just ate and exchanged mundane niceties.  So I brought up Billy and by then President Johnson.  All eating activity stopped as if they were all controlled by the same electrical switch.  In unison I felt all eyes focus on me.  The dad wipes his mouth with a napkin and glares.  Okay maybe it wasn't a glare, but it sure made me feel small.  "We don't discuss politics at the dinner table."  And that ended it.

I finished eating and politely refused a second helping as I was usually more than happy to take, what with being a teenaged boy with two hollow legs.  My friend and I retired to their basement to "get out of the way" as he put it.  As soon as we got to the basement he turned to me and ripped me a new asshole.  His exact words escape me now, but I left for home that night knowing that political discussion in that household was off limits.  I was never invited to their house again.

I had an epiphany that night.  I realized that I was being raised by lunatics.  But really really cool lunatics.  My lunatics might skin me alive, but they still allowed me my say first.  There was a passion for our political system in my house that encouraged taking a stand and defending it even if it did not fall in line with the parental line.  My parents and yeah even my brother allowed me and even helped me to find my own political center though it might be in complete opposition to their take.  I just better be ready to defend it.

All this brings me to the current sad state of the political discourse in this country.  In my childhood home wherever we were, opposing views were not denigrated, they were disagreed with.  Sometimes vehemently but I was raised to respect the right of others to hold the view even if I had other notions on the subject.  And it seemed the general way of political discourse back then.  Today, there is no discourse.  There is no respect.  And now that I think about it, I have also been sucked into this intolerant wave that has our nation by the short hairs.  Any civility between opposing views is gone now.  We have become so polarized that we won't even entertain another take unless it coincides with our own.  It makes me sad to think our country has become so angry and hostile to itself.  We need to lose the attitudes, the anger, and talk rather than shout at each other.  This my way or the highway schtick is not doing us any favors.  All it is doing, this squabbling among ourselves is to make it easier for the rest of the World to kick us off the top rung.

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

PS - Just a reminder  to vote if you haven't already or did not know this is election day.  I wish they would let us know further in advance.  These last minute reminders coming from the media make me wonder if they are even paying attention. 

And if you are so inclined and have not decided which ticket to vote for, might I suggest :

You can find him in aisle 1600, right next to the monuments and green statues.

Waiting

When I replay in my mind the escapades, events, interactions, and altercations of my past, I only remember the events.  The moments in between have been discarded. I am guessing they still exist in some locked overfilled binder labeled "filler time".   Those empty moments are no longer retrievable.  I assume in my case there is only so much room up there in the void between my ears to store shit and empty moments remembered would just be cluttering up a smaller space than the average human carts around on their shoulders.

The other day I called a bike shop customer who lives near my house.  I had hauled his repaired bike to my house the other day to save him having to go into town to pick it up.  No problem, I do it often.  I'm coming home anyway.  He told me he would be right up.

I am not sure what "be right up" meant to him.  All I know is hang around for someone who might need 5 minutes to "be right up"and they still have not made it after 30 minutes, well it became clear to me his notion of "be right up" did not dovetail cleanly into my notion of "be right up".

While I cooled my heels until he showed I considered just how much time I had spent waiting during the last 60 years.  And because any time waiting falls into the category of "filler time", it never made it to the hard drive in my brain.  An accurate accounting of any time I have spent waiting is not going to happen.  I did determine though after considering all the ways one can wait, I spent a good portion of my time on this planet waiting.  The number of things I have waited on seem infinite.

I have waited for things to begin.  I have waited for things to end.  And once past the waiting for things to begin but before waiting for things to end I have sometimes waited for that thing to resume after having paused for one reason or another.

I have waited for people to show up.  I have waited for people to leave.  I have waited for people to speak.  I have waited for them to shut the Hell up.  I have waited for deliveries, mail, and the occasional email not sent to me robo style.

I have waited in line.  I have waited to get to that line so I can get in line.  I have waited to go to the bathroom.  I have waited occasionally for something to happen once I got to that bathroom stall.  I have waited for pots to boil, burgers to grill, and fish frying in a pan.  And don't get me started about waiting for traffic lights to change.  Once I began thinking about it, I have spent more time in my life waiting than actually doing.

Kinda diminishes the grand impression of what I have to show for existing 60 years on this rock.  Too bad I had to wait 60 years before I figured it out.

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

The Lone Ranger

The Lone Ranger wrote the other day on a forum I stupidly visited:

Sorry. I am a hopelessly independent minded Patriotic Constitutionalist Christian Conservative Republican partisan and the t(h)reat of death will not change that. (To be forever open minded is admitting you can not come to conclusions on anything and stick with them. In other words no moral compass.)

Hmm.

What brought me up short was not that The Lone Ranger is God fearin Bible thumper of the first water.  I have run into them before.  What caught my eye was his definition of what being open minded is.  I struggled to find a respectful reply that showed just enough disrespect so it was obvious I thought the guy was full of BS.

I ask now if my answer will fit the bill.  Too much?  Not enough of too much?  Or just right?

My Answer to The Lone Ranger

How should I interpret this?   Should I look at it as an open minded reader or use my moral compass and conclude that since you feel hopelessly independent, you really are not the happy go lucky guy all your posts indicate you are and never will be because you have reached a conclusion on this issue?    Or should I just ask you if all that starch itches? ............Nah.  I'll keep my open mind and you keep yours closed so that moral compass continues pointing you hopelessly in the only direction that makes sense for you.  Whatever it takes to get you through the day.........Oops, sorry.  Didn't mean to get all open minded on you.  My moral compass must be acting up.

I checked the Lone ranger's bio page and looked through his answers to a bunch of other questions this site asks.  Turns out Ranger Man is a complicated fellow/woman, uh whatever.  He's rock solid for the right wing agenda, but leans some in the libertarian direction when the issue is not clearly laid out in his Mormon version of the Bible.  He does not come off as a lunatic, but his inflexible mindset indicates he might be one.  He does not rise to trolling so I am assuming he has had some experience at the forum game.

A worthy adversary?  No.  I decided  he is just another person who is wrong on the Internet.  I am sure he would be proud though that I finally found my moral compass and came to a conclusion.

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

Dark Thirty Delirium

Biorhythms, Life cycles, different phases, disrupted routines, stress, regrets, or just maybe something I ate. Been there, done that and have become very weary of that.

Whatever it is, I hoped I had left it behind me.  Apparently not.  I have recently become an insomniac again.  Maybe now my mind is in sync with Greenwich Time across the big pond  while my body tries hard to make it through the day here in Eastern Standard Time.  I fall asleep around 8:00 PM and wake up between 1:00 AM and 2:00 AM.  Going on a couple of weeks now I guess and it is not making me any more pleasant during the day.  I am not grumpy or caustic really.  I am just not completely engaged in the day like everyone else.  Thoughts are gather slowly if at all.  My eye lids weigh heavy as they struggle to perform the wide eyed bushy tailed facade I need for that cheerful small retailer schtick I use on a day to day basis.

Anyway, waking up and being awake with nothing to do while I wait for the Sun to catch up has enabled me to relive all that wee hour channel surfing I have been missing out on.

I went through my infomercial phase.  And though I purchased nothing I now know where I can get anything I never knew I wanted for $19.95 and for a small handling charge, oftentimes they will send two for the price of one.

I went through a sports phase, mostly the NFL channel.  Seems there really is not much more to glean from watching "NFL Total Access" more than once a day.  Or more than once a week for that matter.  But at least there is no political talk or even any political commercials.  And that's odd.  Every other channel out there is over the top chock full of back to back thirty second political spots.

I spent some time trying to get jiggy with my feminine side and spent a few hours watching the various girly channels.  I notice Oprah is still black and Dark Shadows is still alive and well at the bottom of the cable channel pool.   Sadly, I don't think my sensitivity to the emotions of others or myself has been improved much.  At sixty years old, I am thinking that horse left the barn a long long time ago.

Just when I thought early morning cable had nothing to offer, I scrolled by the Chillz Channel and just caught the word "Zombie" as I skipped past.  Backing up and highlighting the channel I saw that "Zombie Women of Satan" had just started.  Oh goody.  Zombies are cool, especially hot zombies who happen to be women.  I tuned in and before the first ax hit the first head, I passed out and missed the rest of it.

I guess I need to find a copy of that movie for those nights when sleep eludes me.

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

The Lying Car Salesman

Because I am a glutton for punishment, I screened a bunch of Romney ads.  Something was bothering me about him.  I knew I had seen him somewhere in my past before he conveniently turned up as the supposed progeny of a much classier man than he is.  It all became clear when I found this:



The man used to be a car salesman.  No wonder I don't like him.

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

Jersey Burns, O Man plays the HAARP

I have known for quite awhile that everything wrong with this country for the last 100 years is the fault of our foreign born Islamic President.  What I did not know was just how much evil the O Man had in his heart, his mind and apparently at his disposal.  The depths he will dive into to retain his evil grip on our pitiful souls is amazing.

There is a secret, okay not so secret facility in Alaska that is supposedly run by the US Air Force and the US Navy.  From this not so secret base stuck out there somewhere in the tundra of Alaska they manipulate the ionosphere in ways one could only consider magic....Black Magic I am sure.  They claim it is "scientific research", but we all know "science" is just a code word for Satan's Handiwork.  And the fact that Obama is currently Satan's man on the ground here in the US, he took full advantage of the "science" of that Alaskan base and used it to help him in his bid to win reelection.

He had the machines of the "High Frequency Active Auroral Research Program" (HAARP) turned up to wow and focused on the ionosphere above the East Coast of the US.  Apparently hurricanes cannot resist the come hither call of those evil machines.  And having already manipulated the Jet Stream into it's unusual new path, the stage was set for what happened these past few days along the East Coast.  Obama gets to look presidential and cool under fire.  And millions of people change their vote next Tuesday. 

What a diabolical man.  Or is he even a man?  Hmm...........At the least he is an evil wizard bent on controlling our minds by turning us gay.  Thank God for watch dogs like InfoWars and HaarpStatus, or this plan to dominate our minds and souls would go unnoticed.

After I found this nugget of Truth on the Internet, I dug deeper.  Where I dug is up to your imagination as I cannot reveal my sources because well, would you believe they do not exist?  Of course you would, yeah right.  Let's just say I know a guy who knows a guy who used fly a black helicopter.  His claim is that Katrina was a similar despicable misuse of presidential power.  Seems Bush the Lessor set Katrina in motion to pay back New Orleans for the trauma his father suffered in 1964 when he had his pocket picked on Bourbon Street.  Wow.  These Demigods can be a petty bunch.

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

An Exercise in Stupidity

Storm A comin!  Storm A comin!

The media has not only made sure we know a big storm is going to have it's way with the Mid-Atlantic Seaboard, they have outdone themselves with their efforts to instill the needed panic to drive the aftermath for more than a few news cycles.  Store shelves up and down the East Coast are emptying.  Generators are being crammed into car trunks, pick up beds, and ole lady handbags in anticipation of widespread electrical failures.

Brilliant news folks are asking the questions that need to be asked of the various authorities who will have to deal with the clean up.

"How long will it take to get electricity restored for 50 million people?" - one smart news  woman asks a FEMA honcho.

I watched and listened to this unanswerable question come out of this woman's mouth and I imagined what the FEMA guy was thinking as opposed to the company line that came out of his mouth.

His Mouth:
"Of Course Connie (not her name, but who cares what her name was)... Of course Connie, FEMA stands ready to deal with whatever comes our way.  We have strategically placed teams in the areas we feel will take the brunt of the storm.  We are ready."

His Mind:
"You dumass broad.  What kind of question is that?  When will we be able to restore electricity for 50 million people?  I don't have a fuckin clue bitch.  But I would love to tell you one thing.  If 50 million people lose their electricity, we are all screwed."

Connie doesn't get it that this guy is giving her a chance to not look like a total idiot.  Instead she presses him.  "Well that's fine and good, but you did not answer my question.  How long until power is restored?"

FEMA guy smiles tightly and says, "Connie, FEMA is doing what it can to prepare for the worse so that we can bring back normalcy as soon as possible once the storm passes.  Predicting any kind of time frame for clean up is impossible given that the storm has not even made landfall yet.  We can only do our best to prepare for it and deal with what it leaves behind."

"So you are telling me FEMA is not ready?"

"No Connie, I am trying to not tell you that you are an idiot."

Okay, okay, so I took some liberties with the last parts there, but it certainly is a plausible conversation between a media idiot and a bureaucrat.

It is interesting that this particular weather event has made every metereologist on the East Coast wet themselves in anticipation.  A "super storm" they are calling it.  Two unusual things that do not normally happen are what will possibly make this storm one to remember.  Instead of behaving like a good hurricane and heading out to sea, Sandy is proving to be a juvenile delinquent.  She is taking a sharp left hand turn at Atlantic City, NJ where she will hook up with a rather large system who prefers to remain anonymous that dropped down on us from Canada.
( Nothing good comes out of Canada.  But I do appreciate the fact that they keep us so far away from the North Pole)  Romantic sparks will fly as  Sandy and Storm Doe party like there's no tomorrow and well, there will be some unhappy hosts when they finally move on their way.

But predicting who will be unhappy and how many there will be is an exercise in stupidity.

Batten down the hatches and I will see you later....................................

Having a Gay Ole Time

Just thinking about Gay Marriage fries my ass.  Or should I say just thinking about the fact it is not sanctioned by most states nor the federal government fries my ass.  Or maybe what really pisses me off is that it is even an issue.  Of all the stupid things to be legislating, marriage has to be near the top of the list.  And I do not care what God may or may not think.  God is in his TOC (Tactical Operations Center).  He may or may not have his headset tuned into our petty planet.  Even if he does, any signals he may or may not be sending are mixed at best.  And please do not refer me to the Bible.  That book of parables makes less sense than Aesop's Tales.

Something tells me God or the celestial bureaucrat he put in charge could give a rat's ass whether the plumbing between consenting adults meshes as intended.  Come on.  Just how tight of an ass are these homophobes packing they want to interfere in the love affairs of others?  Shouldn't same sex couples be entitled to the same wonderful misery bliss the rest of us have.

I know.  I know.  I should be respectful of the religious views of others.  That's what I am told.  Sorry.  I feel an obligation to respect their right to believe what they want.  But no way in Hell do I have to respect the view itself.  And I certainly do not have to respect the idiots who harbor such a hardline view of the world around them.

Do we really think we are such a priority God feels the need to micro manage our pedestrian existence in what is arguably a fairly large Universe?  What an egotistical bloated opinion some of us have of our importance in relation to the rest of the Cosmos.  We are but insignificant astral fleas floundering around on some back woods planet spinning out of control on the edge of the Milky Way.  God's got more important things to do than nursemaid Humanity.  Did not the Great One give us Free Will?  If so , then he's got nothing to say how we use it.  I guess he could fire off some lightening, hit us with some bad ass pests and a little pestilence.  But why would he?  If he's so talented to have come up with the Heavens, the Earth, and the Donald's excellent pompadour, why would he be so petty and bush league to get pissy over who marries who, who diddles who,  or who makes the final four on "The Voice".  Besides Humans prove time and time and again, we are our own worse enemies.  We do a fine job of screwing ourselves without God throwing in his two cents worth.

(Brief interlude - While I calm down, grab a Papst, and consider just why this pisses me off so much.)

Maine is once again attempting to get the issue of same sex marriage behind us.  Our legislators passed it once a few years back.  But outsiders who felt the need to stick their nose in our business pumped stupid amounts of money (most of it came from Utah) into the petition drive to get its repeal on the ballot.  Once they had it on the ballot, we were bombarded with so many lies and religious mumbo jumbo about how God meant marriage to be between a man and woman, the law was shot down.  Toss out enough fire and brimstone and even the most rigid fence sitter is liable to fall your way.

It took awhile, but it's back on the ballot.  I hope this time it passes.  I am so tired of hearing about it.  It looks good this time.  The negative ads are fewer and farther between than the last time.  I guess the Mormon church is pumping all their spare change in Romney's direction.  Or they may have lost interest.  Who knows, who cares?  This time, there is serious bipartisan support.  Hell,  just yesterday I read even Obama has endorsed Question 1 in Maine.

Rant over...........Later...............


For your enjoyment - one of the many pro gay marriage commercials from Maine.  I especially like this one because the old duffer has such a great Maine accent.

Slogans

Humans love slogans.  Three or four word phrases that in a nutshell let others know how they feel about a certain thing, place, event, movement.  My favorite all time slogan is on a sticker you might still find in or around Eustis, Maine.  "Get Useless In Eustis"  pretty much sums up any visit I had in that area.  I was either camping close enough to find beer nearby, or I was nearby in the snowmobile bar getting snockered.

Slogans are particularly popular in the political world.  They date back into our history when men still rode horses to get around and women waited at home sewing,knitting, and minding the wee ones.

"Tippecanoe and Tyler Too" has always been one of my favorites.  It first crossed my radar as a historical fact I had to memorize for a history quiz or test.  This election slogan referenced William Henry Harrison as Tippecanoe and his running mate and soon to be successor, John Tyler.  Seems ole Will rose to some distinction during the Indian wars of the early 1800s in the then North West Territories.  These territories would later become Indiana, Ohio, Michigan, what we now call the Rust Belt, the Heartland, Fly over country.  Tippecanoe refers to a specific battle in which the good and noble White Man claimed victory.  Depending on which revisionist historical record you read, the victory was a nominal one at best.  Still, ole Will would be able to cash in on this battle and his average to below average efforts as a military man to capture the White House.

My interest in the slogans of politics was sparked by the slogans of our current election.  "We Built This" was and still is about the dumbest slogan I have seen in a long time.  Obama's "Forward" is not much better.  But at least it offers a direction and not some unsubstantiated subliminal claim that Republicans are responsible for what we have.

Anyway, I found this site that has all of the Presidential slogans used by the winners and losers since I guess they started keeping track.  Apparently William Harrison started it all with "Tippecanoe and Tyler Too".  I looked them over and some were quite catchy.  "Keep Cool with Coolidge", "I Like Ike", and who could forget Warren G Harding's famous slogan, "Cox and Cocktails". Guess it was one of those, "Had to be there" things to even have a clue what it meant.

Lincoln's slogans for his two terms were telling.  His first run , he offered promises of free land with a beautiful idyllic farm planted right in the middle of it.  "Vote Yourself a Farm" certainly left much up to the beholder, but it was definitely upbeat.  Abe's slogan for his second term on the other hand was less a promise and more of request.  "Don't Change Horse's in Mid-Stream" says it all about the reality that became Lincoln's tenure in office.

Lincoln's situation, while more serious and potentially nation destructing than what Obama faces today, would indicate that maybe O Man should have chosen a different slogan.  "Hang On" seems so much more appropriate.  Starting over with a new president after only giving the previous one one term is ill advised given the deep hole we carved out for ourselves.

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

Nothing Feels Like the Present

I did not watch the debate last night.  I stepped downstairs to my basement and made ten dollars the hard way.  Instead of watching promise makers and promise breakers have a pissing match, I was productive. When I was done I had not even come close to the US federal minimum wage.  I recycled.  I produced a commodity.  I performed meaningful manual labor.  Yes, by the time I was done, that which had been misplaced and forgotten these many years was found again and put to good use.

I hand rolled 1000 pennies from a dusty Ball canning jar I found buried in a closet.  I made it about half way through that Ball canning jar before my hands, my interest, and will had run out.  I have $10 dollars more to add to the bike shop deposit today and about four pounds of Lincoln Head pennies are on their way to recirculate around the good ole USA.

What a useless coin - the penny.  They cost more than a penny to mint.  Their buying power is pretty much useless unless they gang up into rolls of fifty.  They are now just so much dead weight, creating serious pocket droop and cluttering up every purse.

This was not always so.  When I was a kid, a penny could actually buy something.  A hip corner store would have so many penny candy options, a kid could spend an hour if they let them picking out the tasty sweet morsels that would fit their mood that day.  Jaw Breakers, Atomic Fireballs, and small round chunks of Tootsie roll wrapped just like their big nickel brother.  Lollipops of every color and hue, and small Brown Cows mooing from their small bin. 

Yeah, a penny was worth something when I was a kid.  And so what if I'm dating myself.  This one fond memory I would love to see come back.  Sadly, returning to times fondly remembered does not happen.  We can try, but they only seem the same in our minds.  1950s rock n roll diners, resurgence of the Bell Bottom and the return of Christ will never halt our participation in the expanding Universe.

Time marches on..................

Nothing feels like the Present.................Not even the Past.


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

Just Another Tuesday in Paradise

Well, seems my sleepy little corner of the World has been rockin and rollin of late.

First up the folks over to the Coast about 25 miles from me are all in a tither over respected names being dragged through the public mud after those names popped up on a client list of a local Zumba instructor who was exercising their naughty bits between Zumba sessions.  The local constables have released names without the corresponding addresses or ages.

I thought the massive rumble that shook our house last night might have been 150 indignant wives over to Kennebunk roaring their disapproval.  Or maybe it was a roar of  approval as they castrated the first of many husbands who had strayed from the nest.  But no, it was just another 4.5 earthquake.  Hell its only been 20 years or so since the last one.  I will admit this one caused me to take notice.  The epicenter was only about 12 flying crow miles from our house and for a moment I was sure every fragile Knick Knack on our shelves were going to start jumping off.

And then I watched the debate.  What was I thinking?  More empty rhetoric being spewed from a couple of empty suits.  As I had made up my mind four years ago who I was voting for, I do not know why I punished myself.  Maybe I just like witnessing the insanity that makes up our political process.  At least Obama-man came ready to rumble.

Everything being equal and even though having some excitement visit our wonderful part of the country, I could have skipped all the hoopla, righteous indignation and most certainly I could have done without looking at Mitt's condescending smirks.   But I have to say, the debate dovetailed quite nicely with hookers, politicians, and an earthquake.  Sometimes I am sure there is a God.  Last night when I felt the quake I am sure it was him laughing.

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

Hello 9-1-1? There's an Old Man Beating a Child on My TV

So I had a Papst Blue Ribbon beer with supper  last night.  Sometimes one beer is enough satisfy that beer jones.  Sometimes one beer is but the first in a series of beers, shots, or glassfuls of mixed spirits that should have umbrellas hanging out of them.  Last night was one of those nights.

I cracked a second beer after supper and headed to the basement.  I had manly things to do in my basement.  Sort this, rearrange that.  Nothing in particular, I just needed some time surrounded by manly things like hand tools, power tools and the sweetest work bench I have ever built.  Once I crank the boombox up to wow, I can spend hours hunched over the bench doodling with pieces of copper, fixing a fan, you know, small tasks that have been sitting patiently waiting their turn to take up some of my manly time.

That second beer was my first mistake.  Or maybe it was just heading downstairs in a weakened state of mind.  You see I keep my bottle of sippin whisky down stairs.  And well, one thing led to another and by the time I came upstairs for some air and to catch some of the Vice Presidential Debate, my spring had been wound pretty damn tight.

I turned on the Debate and whose ferret face jumps out at me jawing about Iran - yeah that's right, Paul Ryan.  I immediately thought of the business card my dad had printed up back in the day.  It was a card with a simple, easy to understand message.  He would hand them to whomever he thought was talking out of their asshole, usually after serious intake of the demon Rum. I had managed to find one card intact after he dearly departed and I saved it.  Apparently I saved it for this day, this debate.  If ever a man should be handed this card, it is Paul Ryan.  I took a picture of it and added the "Paul Ryan".

I should never sit down to watch politicians while sloshed or even semi sloshed.  I tend to lose what little objectivity I have left.  I was all over Paul and his, what was the word Joe politiely called it,  uh oh yeah, Conflating.  Conflated facts, stretched truth, small white lies, and large whopping fabrications spilled out Ryan's mouth.  For his part, Joe kept his bull shit on the mild side in comparison. 

How do these guys do it?  Sit there and with conviction lie right to our faces.  Do they ever take a break and tell the truth?  Do they even know what the truth is?  I am reminded of the term "You can't make this stuff up."  Apparently politicians can.

Overall, I thought old Joe did a fine job.  He did not give Paul Ryan a free ride.  Joe was in his face.  Bill Maher's Tweet basically covered it.

"Hello 9-1-1?  There's an old man beating a child on my TV."

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

Class Act of the Day

Scott DesJarlais is a Congressman hailing from the 4th district in the Volunteer State. Scott rode the Tea Party wave that swept through Tennessee in 2010. His position list reads like the updated play book of the Republican Party. He's a Gun Totin, No Taxin, Defense buildin, Family Values supporter of Life in the Womb. I am sure somewhere amongst his collectibles and what nots, possibly right next to that fancy glass front gun case, hangs a "Don't Tread on Me" flag. Definitely not one of the 47%.

Sadly though even the great ones have chinks in their armor. Scott is no exception. His flaws are not his fault. He was born with them. Seems Scott has that gender specific affliction - male genitalia. I am sure his mind is solidly wrapped around his ideals even if his little Scotty isn't .  Little Scotty has but one thing, well okay, two things on his mind.

Should poor Scott be punished for doing what men do?  Surely we cannot help ourselves.  Obviously we cannot - witness poor Scott's situation.  Having caved to his primal instincts 10 years or so ago, he was only trying to "save his marriage" when he urged the jezebel who seduced him to abort the child for all their sakes.

But, but, but,................ what about his Pro-Life stand? 

Well....Ya Know what?  Life is a complex series of events that depend on compromise between the participants in order to flow in the best direction for all concerned.  What better place to learn the art of compromise and cooperation than when looking to get laid.  I am certain Scott had to at least occasionally compromise his standards in order to find a cooperating partner.  Of course he does have that sanctimonious Right Wing thing going, so maybe not.

Remember people, we end up with what we deserve.

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

Headed Down the Same Road

I dunno.  I'm just a dumass citizen who hails from one of the quiet boring corners of this country.  I have no fancy degrees that would set me apart from the average jerkwad who spouts off without the pedigree to turn the heads of the leaders we have saddled ourselves with.  But I do have enough years on the planet to have noticed some recurring themes in our culture, body politic, and mindset that continuously run counter to common sense.

First up is our insistence on repeating the same mistakes always hoping for a different outcome.  This tendency to not honor the one rule of History we should honor is interwoven into our group psyche.  We repeat these mistakes even knowing the historical results of our previous attempts.

Foreign Policy is the perfect example.  And the perfect poster child would be our foreign policy in the Mid East.  I would say that hands down, our involvement there has not netted us anything close to a positive outcome or even hopes of one in the distant future.  Frankly I do not give a rat's ass about the Mid East.  Nothing over there seems worth all the men, materiel, and money we have pissed down the drain trying to "straighten them out".


What about the oil?  Yeah, what about it?  Is easy access to oil worth the price we have paid?  In my opinion, no it is not.  Easy access to oil has blunted and drastically slowed our development of alternative energy sources.  As long as the oil flows, we are happy campers.  What's the death of a nephew, a niece or a neighbor's kid matter as long as we can pump our tanks full of gas and head down to Walmart?

So anyway, Mitt Romney is finally allowing some details out regarding his take on Foreign Policy.  And surprise, surprise, he too wants to jump on the bandwagon of repeated mistakes.

Instead of continuing the draw down of our troops in the Mid East, Mitt's plan calls for keeping 30,000 troops in Iraq indefinitely.  He would increase defense spending even though common sense should make Defense a fat target in our efforts to get our budget in order.

He would arm the rebels in Syria but only if they "share our ideals.  I love this one.  This one repeated mistake is in my opinion the one that has escalated the violence over there on a contunuing basis for at least the last 40 years.  We arm the lesser of two evils at the time and then the lesser evil turns around and starts shooting at us with the guns we gave them.  Like I said is this common sense at work?  And Mitt wants to do it again. 

Yeah yeah, yeah.  The pundits and experts would say I don't understand all the intricacies and nuances of what is going on in the Mid East.  Fine.  But it would seem you flounders with all the degrees and power don't have a clue either.  You keep trying the same old shit and getting the same result.  Who's the real dumass here?

Maybe, just maybe, we should stop over thinking our role there and just go simple.  Set up some rules of behavior for them regarding their interactions with us.   The rules broken would have serious consequences. Maybe even violent and immediate consequences.  Once we have issued the ground rules, we let them kill each other until they get tired of it. 

I'm fed up with wasting the best of our population on misadventures that look more like economic policy at the end of a gun.

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

Religion, Inc.

So Mitt claims on his tax returns just over $4 million to "charity".  Right Mitt.

It depends on what we consider charity.  75% of that $4 million went to the Mormon Church.  The Mormon Church spends less than 1% of it's income on charity outside it's church.  Tithing in my opinion is not charity.  It is supporting one's church often accomplished by not so subtle arm twisting.

Counting tithing as charity has always rubbed me the wrong way.  Many churches demand a certain percentage of their members income.  I hear in the Mormon Church it is 10%.  Any money required to belong to an organization should not be called charity.  It could still be considered a tax deduction, but in no way should tithing be considered charity.  Romney gets no points from me for including payments to his church.

The Mormon Church spends over 99% of their income on issues they have a direct interest in.  They are a business disguised as religion.  The LDS  has spent millions across the country defeating Gay Marriage initiatives.  They have funneled countless millions into the coffers of politicians (read Mitt Romney) they feel share their narrow view of how Life should be.  The Mormon Church is not interested in the concerns of anyone outside their church.  But they are certainly interested in controlling how non-Mormons live their lives.

No better example exists of how out of control organized religion has become  than the Church of the Latter Day Saints.

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

Lying Truth - 100 Words

Facts injected with conjecture and forgone conclusions cast Truth aside in pursuit of knee jerked solutions.  Lost in a sea of deception, specious goals are massaged by lying hands, replacing Honesty with Truth’s ugly step sister, the Half Truth.

The Midway Squawkers and Snake Oil Salesmen insist and demand the Half Truth into our lives hoping their deception lasts long enough for them to cash in for their nickels and dimes. 

Assaulted long enough, we allow recent lies to become our New Truth. Delusion casts itself in stone and merry populations dance around it happy as if they had brains.

 __________________________

I first wrote this for a Flash fiction challenge quite awhile ago.  I thought given the current politcal moods clashing and thrashing, re-posting it here and now might just impart how I feel regarding the current crop of leaders and their lackeys. 

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

The Flow of Life is Often Unkind

Grief.  If we are human, we all share in this most painful of human situations.  Grief is both intensely personal and universally shared.  Grief can cripple us.  It can also make us stronger once the initial pain has waned.  Gather enough years on this planet and it can accumulate like a gathering cloud that  is always threatening our horizons.

It is often said by those experiencing grief that no one can know their pain.  We may not be able to feel the specific grief they are experiencing, but most of us know the process.  It is never pleasant.  It is never kind.  But it is often necessary I think for us to remain sane.  Grief is so much part of our experience, it has been analyzed and broken down into 5 clean clinical stages.

We do our best to shelter our wee ones from it's grip, often providing too much shelter so that when they have to face that first truly sad moment of loss, they are ill prepared to deal with it.  I think explaining death to a child is harder than discussing sex with them.  How does one prepare a child for the emotional pain that eventually visits all of us?

I only bring this up today because of a recent accident that took the life of a young girl in Sanford.  She was struck and killed while riding her bike on Main St.  I did not know her or her family.  I did however know some of the loved ones her death affected the most.  The tragedy brought back wounds I am still dealing with from my recent past and beyond.  My first feelings of empathy for the family turned inward and suddenly I was re-living the pain of my own losses from years before.  Best friends, family members, and most recently a niece all came rushing back.

I sat on a big stone out in the yard and allowed myself the freedom to cry.  After a few moments I felt embarrassed though no one was there to witness this less than manly display.  "Fer Chrisakes Mike, get a grip, you don't even know this child," I told myself.  But the pain would not go away.  And one more time I had to allow a few grieving moments to my previous tragic moments to again work through the filters that keep me sane.

I may not know your pain, but believe me when I say I know how it works.

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

Image by Gabriela Sanchez - entitled "Grief"