My part of the world has been enjoying a wonderful run of perfect weather these past 5 or 6 days. The weather folks insist it will continue for the next 5 or 6 at the least. If I had to pick the best day of the bunch so far it would have to be yesterday, May 1st, 2013.
Cool enough for long sleeves at 6, warm enough for tee shirts by 7. The Sun came up hard and fast and in my face. It was as if the Sun wanted everyone in my part of this planet to know it was back and still had an attitude.
Yesterday, May 1st, was also my father's birthday. Had he lived this long he would be 108. Damn. He punched his time clock back in 1980. Had 75 years on his terms and made no excuses.
The image above was taken yesterday about 9:00 AM. The ancient Weeping Cherry tree in my dooryard proved once again it had what it took to add beauty to my world. And look at that sky. What a beautiful morning.
Later Gator.................................................
Not sure why I am not posting what I write. I have wasted some hours creating "The World According to MRMacrum" this past week - hours I could have put to otherwise useful endeavors. I intended to share my opinions, perspectives, and righteous indignation about a few of the the never-ending crush of incidents, accidents, and dastardly occurrences that unfold every day. Yet all of those posts sit unread, unshared, early into their afterlife gathering dust in the dark archive of un-posted posts. I am sure there was a ryhme or a reason to let them hang in limbo. At the moment I just do not care. That was then, this is now.
I guess I can only react to the stupidity and silliness of the human species for so long. At some point I apparently decided that no matter how low human futility and folly sinks, it was never going to end. I now just make note of it and move along with my day. I did write a couple of thousand words about the Boston Marathon and the ensuing insanity. I railed against the cruelty people inflict on others for reasons of religion, politics, and just because they want to. Typed hard and fast. Really let it all out - all my sadness and anger. I re-read it, sat back and realized I had been here before writing in anger and sadness. Many times before. I realized Life was nothing but a series of recurring comedic and tragic events unfolding in different locations. I thought, why give a shit? Nothing I write, say or do will have much effect on the big bad world outside the local confines of the one I exist in everyday.
Seems with each year I toss onto the pile of years I already have, I give less of a shit about the World. It didn't listen to me all those years I tried to push it in positive direction. It refused my help and apparently seems to content to turn down any aid I might come up with in the future.
The planet has it's own agenda. I know that now. I probably knew that way back when, but I just had to add my voice to the deafening roar of all the other voices trying to steer the species onto the right path. Humanity is untidy, selfish, kind, and oftentimes very, very brutal. No other animal has the capacity for mindless maliciousness like Man does. To be fair though, I guess no other animal on the planet has the capacity for generosity and kindness to the degree humans do.
This ability to be both kind and ruthless may or may not be a result of being at the top of the food chain. I am fairly certain being sentient has something to do with it. I will say without some kindness to offset the brutality at different times, this planet would either be total Hell or like having Sunday dinner everyday at your Aunt Betty's house. Pleasant, but one day a week is enough.
So Humanity...........Keep on keeping on. At least you are not boring.
So I'm cleaning cat litter trays earlier this AM and I remembered the almost promise I made the other day on the BoZone to return soon with another titillating post about the life and times of one MRMacrum. I decided that once the litter trays were cleaned, the laundry dried and folded, and any other small token domestic chore I could think of was taken care of, I would pour myself another cup of coffee, sit down at the 'puter, fire it up, and punch up the blog. I considered some multitasking. Seemed a grand notion while typing whatever this will turn out to be, I could work on that new playlist for the MP3 player I have plugged into the stereo in the Ford Ranger.
So that is what I did. Seems I'm not doing either one very well, but at least I ain't folding laundry.
I do not want to give any impression or slyly toss in a hint that I may lay claim on the title, "Dutiful Husband" or even "Thoughtful Spouse". You see it is Tax Season. My wife, the accountant, is peaking right now. Staying out of her way and helping out some may not even the dreary chore scales in our marital bliss, I will say making myself scarce and looking busy when she finds me to vent keeps my skin intact for the most part. Staying busy playing Mr Domestic provides the perfect escape from the pent up tension and stress all accountants seem to pack on as April 15 approaches.
After what?......30 uh well after 30 plus years, I have gotten used to being the occasional whipping boy. When I committed way back in 1980 I guess I meant it. I knew I had my issues and baggage. I had to be willing to accept her baggage if I expected her to accept mine. Fair is fair.
~.~
After a decade or so with my green thumb on hold, I have decided to focus once again on tilling some soil. The urge returned to dig in dirt and shove plants of varying kind into it. I am hard into home owner agricultural planning. I checked inventories of starting pots, soil mixtures, and clay pots I have on hand. I created a list of what I needed to once again begin a Spring ritual I am not sure why I stopped in the first place. Growing stuff is a rewarding endeavor. Doesn't cost much more than some time and calorie burning.
I have shrubbery I want to take cuttings from and pass safely rooted and ready to go on to a good neighbor. I might even keep some and sprinkle them around the yard. I have some old raised beds reclaimed and almost ready for something...................foodwise or otherwise. Yeah, it's time for me to reclaim my green thumb. Oh I have maintained the yard these past years. But only to control it. No pleasure, just doing the minimum to keep off the shit list here on Sam Page Road. Time to step it up again.
The image up top is of the juniper variety living in the bed near the garage after a heavier than usual dew last summer. Had to bum out the local spider population seeing as how the dew ruined the transparent factor of their webs during that early morning hunt. I imagine the one spider poking his head out is pissing and moaning about what Ma Nature left in his dooryard that morning.
I've started umpteen numbers of posts and declined to either finish them or publish the ones I felt were as full as that moment had. I have filled a dictation notebook with handwritten thoughts and perusings, yet still failed to do more than read them for my own pleasure or otherwise.
Getting back into blogging after such a long absence is difficult. Lord knows I certainly have opinions on anything I am aware of and could easily form an opinion on anything I am not aware of if asked. And my many years of steady postings proves I do enjoy sharing my thoughts. Hmm....... What to do?
Get back on the horse I guess would be the logical thing to do. Damn the inanities, the boorish and self centered tendencies I carry in my character make up bag. Just sit down and write like I am now.
So here it is, my crude rebirth as they say. Hopefully I will follow up tomorrow or the next day with something at the least only mildly uninteresting.
BTW - The image at the top is a Kodak Moment I caught the other night. This fat cat or big mama is absolutely the largest Salamander I have ever seen in Maine or anywhere else for that matter. For ten minutes this big bruiser laid stretched out in all his/her glory and did not move a muscle. As soon as I placed a ruler next to him/her so I could document his/her imense-ness, the little bugger started moving. Take my word for it, he was almost 12 inches long, tip to tale. Once he got his steam up he relocated into the garage and was joined by a smaller salamander. They retired under the fuel oil tank for several minutes. Maybe an hour later, I saw him/her hook up with yet another even smaller salamander. They headed over towards the work bench I use for gardening. I can only imagine what went on among the clay pots and fertilizer.
The whole time I had left the garage door open in an effort to not interfere with the time honored traditions of nature during early spring. Critters meet, they mate, and then go their merry ways. So around midnight I woke up on the couch and remembered I had left the garage door open. It is not a good thing around here to leave garage doors open. Thieves clad in fur, some with fangs, will violate the sacred garage space and tear into trash bags and leave their scent on boxes and crates. So I hurried down to check for damage and to close the door. Damned if the Salamander Dance was not still in full swing. All three Salamanders with Big Boy/Mama protecting their rear, were hot on the trail of a very small frog who had decided to tease them. I watched as the frog allowed them to get close and then hopped away to a new spot. Salamander patrol would inch their way close again, and hop went the frog.
I was tired and this sort of entertainment is fine when in the mood for it, but I wanted to go to sleep. My quandary was what to do with the door. I could not, would not leave it open. But I wanted the outside animals who were currently inside to be outside once thier business was concluded. I found a rock and dropped the door on it, leaving enough room for any and hopefully all of them to find their way back outside by morning. I could live with them in the garage, but my wife, well, she has hard and fast rules about what critters she considers inside critters. Having closed th door, I went to sleep and in the morning, it appeared all had found the egress and returned to the wilds of the outdoors.
The last moments of 2012 are finally ticking down to the end. I have to to say, all in all, this was not the greatest year I can remember. Lots of hate and discontent. Unresolved issues will continue into the new year. Broken hearts will stay broken.
Disappointments in the making yet to come are forgotten in these last few moments. Future events will take care of themselves. For the next 15 minutes, I will exist the here and now, soon to be that was then and this is when we begin again.
Begin again? Does something magical happen that we experience a new beginning on the first day of the next year? ............... Not really I guess. Yet we still place significance on this night we all pass from one year to the next. We have chosen this date to purge the mistakes, sadness, and empty moments or our previous 365 days and replace them with hope for happier moments to come. The empty moments yet to be are free and clear of guilt or misplaced angst. The new year is full of nothing but hope and fear. Only getting on with it will fulfill either, yet for at least a few minutes in between last year and the next, we can be happy, pleased, and generally satisfied. We made it.
I was breaking up a dead fall branch and jamming it into the next brush pile I planned on burning. I saw Joe my neighbor coming out of his multi-car shed there next door. I waved the stick I was working on at him and shouted, "Merry Christmas Joe".
Joe looked up. He mumbled something like he always does. Louder this time, "I can't hear you Joe", I waved the stick at him again and shouted "Merry Christmas".
Joe stopped and looked up at the sky. Loud enough this time for me to hear, "Supposed to snow tonight." He turned around and walked back into his multi-car shed.
Ya'll have nice low key holiday season, ya hear? We always keep it low key here in Maine.
A sick feeling came over me last week as I watched the initial reports about the school shootings in Newtown, Connecticut. A similar wave of nausea I remember having when I watched the second plane hit the second tower back on 9/11. Each evil incident unique in how it played out, yet both made me feel helpless and useless in the face of the absolute insanity and needless waste of innocent lives. Only this time I have not tried to understand why. Evil needs no why. Evil just needs to figure out how. And the perfect vessel for Evil is insanity.
I have stopped trying to understand the reasoning, the objectives, the point low life's use initiate such ghastly acts. I have also stopped trying to find convenient labels that might offer excuses as to why these losers do what they do. At some point, their reasons mean nothing once they enact their twisted perspectives into real action. They stop being human and become something else. Something evil inside a human vessel. Any shred of humanity is gone once they have drawn down on their targets. Any hope of saving them from themselves or saving us from them is gone as soon as their insane perspective becomes physical action. Then it is time to clean up after them.
As a parent myself, I cannot fathom the depths of grief the parents of the 20 children killed are feeling right now. I feel somewhat guilty that I hope I never do know those depths. I do understand the need to find something to blame besides the perpetrator. And because firearms were used, they become the convenient "other evil" in this scenario. Unfortunately focusing all the attention on guns does nothing to address the core problem. The core problem of mental illness. For too long this country has been focused on controlling the tools of violence and not focusing on the user of those tools. We are a reactive society, not a proactive one.
Maybe in addition to cleaning up some gun issues, maybe our leaders will also give mental illness and the damage it causes the attention it deserves. We do that even half assed successfully and I imagine it will have a more positive impact than trying to control the stupid number of guns in this country.
12/12/12 was a couple of days ago. All day long, everyone was making a big deal of it. Buying lottery tickets based on it. Somehow betting on the horses also came up. All over the place, folks ascribed some kind of magical celestial significance to this date.
The Zodiac, planet alignments and orientations were discussed with straight faces. Sagittarius rising and the moon is on your side conversations. Yeah, many folks got fired up for 12/12/12. I went through 12/12/12 positive it was just another day on the planet like all the rest.
I was in the kitchen about to sit down to some supper of leftovers, beer, and a yogurt for dessert. On the Tube, Brian Williams was running through the latest 12/12 wackiness his lackeys had dug up for his daily "lighter news" piece. I looked at my wife and declared, 'What a bunch of boneheads. Nothin special about 12/12/12."
My darling wife looked up from her plateful of just barely left over left overs and stared at me. Her fork had stopped midway on its way from her plate to her mouth. A twinkle came to her eye. Yet she said nothing.
"What?" I was seriously clueless.
She set down her fork on her plate. She continued to look at me. A more amused look began to creep from the corners of her mouth and move up to her eyes.
Again, "What?" Sirens inside began to warm up. I might be clueless, but years of seeing that look on my lovely wife's face meant she was about to drop the hammer on someone. And I was the only someone in the room. I thought hard. What was I missing, what had I screwed up?.....oh no, I was in need of an clue and there was not a one sitting in the waiting room with their hand raised.. I was about to panic..............................Oh Shit! Realization was quite the rush.
The sheepish grin of a bonehead caught in the act of being extremely stupid was all I could muster at first. I had no words to smooth it over. Might as well suck it up and take it like the dimwitted guy I was.
"Uh, well I guess 12/12/12 means something after all............. Happy Anniversary Babe."
My sweet wife smiled, "Nothin important huh?" She picked up her fork and continued feeding her face.
Celebration of our 32nd anniversary was over, and I almost missed it..............once again. I know I scored no points this time. I do not deserve any. But at least I was not reminded I had missed our anniversary a week after the fact. That's when points, serious points and possibly some skin gets shaved off.
Well. I appear to have pissed off someone somewhere. And this someone somewhere I have pissed off has the internet ability to unleash the teeming spam hordes onto my blog. Every day, I delete many comments that are written in Cyrillic, Spanish, Italian, and really really bad English. ............. Sigh.
When the spam hordes first stormed my gates in appreciable numbers some years back, the blogger spam filter caught 90% of them. That has changed. The mob under the evil leader "Anonymous" have slithered their way past the Google guards, under the blog fence and have taken to kickin over all the furniture around the pool.
I can deal with the spam that Google rounds up for me. The comments that have made it onto the blog however are another story. And as much as I would like to continue letting anyone comment, I guess it is time I put a security guard at the door. As of as soon as I remember how, I am going to stop allowing "Anonymous" to comment on the BoZone anymore. Seems I can't trust that guy. Yeah he is usually angry, but when he starts talking gibberish and totally off topic - I mean what does porn have to do with gun rights? Regardless, "Anonymous", you are outta here. Sorry dude or dudette or maybe dude-bot.
And I apologize to any of you regulars if this screws you up. But spending time dealing with comments that have no other purpose than to disrupt is not even on my radar of pleasant things to do.
I read this term as part of
Supreme Court Justice Scalia's legal argument that equates murder and sodomy.
He responded to a college students question about this view.
Said Scalia - "It's a form of argument that I
thought you would have known, which is called the 'reduction to the absurd,
.....If we cannot have moral feelings against homosexuality, can we have it
against murder? Can we have it against other things?"
The term and the use of it in terms of Gay issues caught my
interest. Because a Supreme Court Justice was using this as support for
his legal take on sodomy, I thought I better check up on what I thought
Reduction of the Absurd was. I had been rudely taught the lesson by my
English teacher when I participated in the Debate team for a brief moment or
two back in high school. So I googled it.
Wiki folks had this:
"form of argument which seeks to demonstrate that a
statement is true by showing that a false, untenable, or absurd result"
It was as I remembered it. I had been participating in
a debate practice and had made some outlandish claim with no evidence to
back it up. Teach hit me hard in Latin with
"Reductio ad absurdum". He was a snobbish know it all.
But to be fair to him, he was one of the best teachers I ever had.
He demanded my best. He would not let me be lazy.
So here is Supreme Justice Scalia using this fallacious
argument to support some of his views on things legal.
And Scalia is supposed to be one of our go to "wise
men" we rely on to keep our laws fair and balanced? He must have
fallen back on this argument back in 2000 when he and his robed cronies gave
the Presidency to Bush ll. It was most certainly an absurd decision.
So I am not a real macho guy I guess. I would be if I cared more about guns, ammo, and making sure no one was going to take them away from me. But I don't care about guns one way or the other. I think the fuss and dust stirred up by either side of the issue just helps to make this grand land of ours that much more interesting. Own a gun. Don't own a gun. I could not care less. Apparently though this gun issue ranks just below making it to Heaven and only slightly above keeping those damn homersexualls in their place by God.
Anyway, so here I am early Sunday morning, coffee cup full of fresh brew in hand, and sitting in front the computer catching up on all the stupidity I may have missed out on the new politics forum since yesterday at this time. Well lookee there, a new poll:
"Should Photo ID be Required Before Buying Ammunition"
I open the thread up and it is a yes or no vote poll. I skip the vote because I really just do not care. I hit the comments. After all the comments are what make this so much fun.
I sift through the typical responses from the limp wristed liberals and the bad ass hunting is my life don't fuck with me or I'll shoot your sorry ass wingers. And then I notice someone has suddenly brought the UN into the question. Seems this guy, who reloads his own ammo and owns more guns than he can shoot in a month, and must be 8 feet tall with a package he has no need to over compensate for, well this guy, this dedicated packin Winger tells us and I paraphrase:
"I was readin somewhere before the election about how the UN is gonna take away our guns and Obama is going to let them do it. Not sure what it was called. Heard a lot about it before the election, but nothing since. But for sure the UN is gonna go after our guns and why do we even have a Constitution if the UN can take away our guns?"
An image from South Park immediately filled my head. Jimbo and his gay compadre, Ned. So from now on, whenever I read a comment from this guy, unfortunately anything he writes will forever conjure up Jimbo in my head.
At least my Sunday is starting off with some hilarity.
So I have decided to take a new track. Stop being so pissy. Retire from the angry ole white guy club. Easy to think about, fantasize about and dwell on the possibility. Yeah, the dream comes easy, the Reality does not. Execution is always the rub. How do I go from months of peaking anger over the absolutely insane political and social stupidity brewing just outside my corner of Maine to the moment when I become one with my universe.......... to that point where nothing matters?
Hmm.....
Maybe it is my inability to think outside the box created for me at birth. Possibly it is a genetic or gender thing. But try as I might, I find it difficult to come up a similar number of options I had in front of me oh say 40 years ago when I was younger and number. Back when I was clueless and feeling overwhelmed I ended up picking the path of least resistance, which entailed picking a direction, any direction and putting one foot in front of the other. Worked for me back then. Got me to where I am today.
The road ahead has fewer forks. Less variation in the curve. And yet I find the difficulty in choosing a fork as tough now as it seemed back then and back when. I have tasted one way to go. There was some satisfaction I will admit being cantankerous and generally grumpy. But the mood did not last. I flat out just don't like being an angry old white guy.
So which fork is the one? Which path is left that might give me some peace and maybe a smidgen of grace?
......Hmm.
I guess the only alternative to being an angry ole white guy is to work hard at being a dirty ole man in a good mood. After all, enjoying the sights beats the Hell out of bitchin about there being no lights. Watch out Ladies.
Well I guess Life is back to being the idyllic existence it was prior to the election season. A white woman across the pond is pregnant. We can now rest easy knowing the great white monarchy will continue to thrive for at least another generation or two. Halla - flippin -lou -yah. Nobody holds onto stupid traditions like white folk.
Congress it seems is back to business as usual. That is they are once more proving they were hired to do nothing but feed us lip service. And the Right Wing continues to lead out for this totally useless excuse for a branch of our government.
The tragedy of a Pro athlete dying as the result of a murder/suicide was quickly picked up and turned political by the anti-gun crowd. Bob Costas even used his sports bully pulpit to editorialize about how much we need gun control now. His claim was KC linebacker Jovan Belcher and his girlfriend would still be alive had we better gun control laws.
First of all Bob......I hope I can call you Bob because you do not deserve my respect enough to call you Mr Costas.....Anyway Bob, I like my sports on the tube to be politics free. And even before the bodies have cooled, you immediately turn it from a tragedy to a moment of political opportunism. Pound sand Bob. And I mean that literally.
I went to the Dump today. Played chicken with a crusty old fart pulling up in his plow truck behind me in line at the hopper. As I stepped toward his rushing plow truck to give me and my truck some space, he had to hit his brakes and screech to a halt about 6 inches from my leg. We looked hard at each other. I smiled. I won this round and he knew it.
Yeah Life seems to be returning to something resembling normal again. Crusty old farts are again butting heads over stupid encounters instead of politics. Women are getting pregnant. And Bob Costas is back to his semi regular op/ed moments of stupidity. Even better, the Sun's out bright and even warm. Must be 45'F out there. T shirt weather..........
Life is beautiful............Later ...........................
Not sure why I even started this post. But, I do feel obligated to move on after being assaulted by Internet. Shit happens. We deal with it and move on. I am moving on.
I will admit that for a few days I toyed with turning off the fun parts of my Internet usage and going back to Business related use only. I once more stepped out into the wilds and had another taste. I was once again reminded just how brainless and mean the anonymous of the Internet can be. Oh well.
I was also a bit down because of the intense hatred I have found across the Internet waves that America has for itself. We have allowed ourselves to let ideologies and the differences between them divide us like I have never seen before. The United States of America is populated at the moment by a large number of very angry people. While the reasons vary, the anger is intense on both sides of the political spectrum. I am no different. But I guess admitting and owning my anger is a good first step to that wonderful level of bliss I call "I don't give a damn."
In order for me to move closer to my bliss point, I have decided to try to avoid being angry. I say "try", because I gotta say, there is plenty to be angry about. But being angry without moving to resolve that anger is just getting all worked up for the sake of getting worked up. So from today on and into the future (at least the next week or so) I will not type a word in anger.
Yeah right.
If I can reduce my stress based on fruitless anger, maybe I can find some of the root causes for the hate America has for itself. There are the obvious reasons that many, some, or a few people might keep in their quiver of things to be angry about. Things like the lousy economy, feelings of persecution based on any number of stupid reasons, anger over losing, winning, or just that that black guy is still our president. Most of the things I am angry about, I have no way of changing as an individual. All I can do is identify that which pisses me off and address the things I can actually have some sway over. My first task will be to control my anger. A good first step I am thinking. Once the anger is brought back to a reasonable level, maybe I can once again work with other like minded folks and as a group move things in a positive direction.
When it comes right down to it, we do live in a wonderful country. Yeah, we have our problems, our stupidity, but for the most part, we seem to make it work in the end. As bad as I think it is here, all I have to do is consider that I could be trying to post this from almost anywhere else in the world under much tougher conditions than I have right now.
A loser or gang of losers have been trying to hijack my Facebook and Twitter account. I have not used either for like forever. Matter of fact I think I have tweeted maybe twice. And I forgot I even had a Facebook page until the emails started coming.
At first I was, "Who the Hell cares? Never use them anyway." But then I got angry. That did me no good either. And now I figure that if an insignificant human such as myself has become the target of low life assholes who use a computer to prove how macho they are, then I can only assume they have run out of more important people to bother.
Wow.
There is a price one pays I guess for using one's real name on the WWW.
What makes me chuckle though is this recent series of attacks comes on the heels of my participation once again in a political forum. And because I have been packing my political views more to the Left than the Right in recent years, I assume it was a Winger who is trying to intimidate me by attacking me from behind. I am fairly sure I know who (well their internet persona anyway) is behind it. They have made it a point that they know my name and that I have a daughter.
Frankly I just do not care. I have my opinions. I express my opinions.
BBC is an internet visitor who stops by my blog to give his opinion on well, whatever happens to be on his mind at the time. BBC is a no bullshit, in your face, screw you if you don't like what I say kinda guy. He often steps over the various lines of decorum many of us bloggers have set up for our personal blogs. He has overstepped several times on mine. BBC is not welcome in many places. But he is welcome here. I may not agree with him on something, and he may piss me off from time to time, but I do admire his blunt and honest way of saying what is on his mind. Though I often cringe when I read it.
When I first began my travels through the byways and highways of the World Wide Web back in the 1990s, I was thrilled at the possibilities of the Internet. Some of my visions of what it could be are coming to fruition, but sadly, most are not. Instead of bringing this clown planet together, it seems all the Internet has done is fill the worldwide conversation with overwhelming doses of hate and discontent. People would rather draw lines in the sand than try to erase them. And from the first day I ran into BBC he was sure that the horde of humanity that takes up space on this rock were nothing but a horde of assholes, or "monkeys" as he called them.
I argued with him some. I ignored him some. Slowly, his low opinion of humans began to take hold. His comment on my "Monday Morning" post yesterday combined with my stupid decision to once again try to find sane and reasonable conversation on a new political forum has pushed me over the edge.
His comment:
"I don’t like what America is now but I can’t change
it so fuck it, I’ll just kick back and ease along the best I can."
I have to agree and maybe taking his advice would be wise.
Monday morning. A few lines from a Mamas and Papas tune flit through my mind. For a moment I am reliving my teen years when it seemed then the world had gone mad. Little did I know at the time the world was not going to improve much. The Vietnam War was just firing on all cylinders. Hippies from all the lower 48 had converged on San Francisco or DC to be part of the happenings on either coast and change the World through Peace, Love, and really really bad clothing choices, Bell Bottoms. The uptight establishment was horrified. Dirty filthy hippies they said , make love like barnyard animals, they're a pox and God will smite them down. These young people so full of hope for a peaceful tomorrow were positive Mom and Dad had their heads up their uptight asses and the generation war opened a new chapter.
The dirty hippies who did not die from making love like barnyard animals or ingesting really bad Acid man, don't eat the purple microdot, it has strychnine in it, but brother those orange barrels will send you away and you'll never come back, and hey man, know where I can score some doob, wink wink. The Hippies got tired of their barnyard antics and slowly were sucked up and into the culture they claimed they hated. They cut their hair, took a bath, got a job, and before they knew it they were sitting on the couch with their belt unbuckled and that top pants button undone. With a beer in hand and their belly draped over their sacks they tried to watch the ball game in peace. Instead they began yelling at their damn kids to "Quiet down gaddammit and ferchrisakes take it outside". Dad works hard, and all he's got is Sunday watching his game or another race around the track with Dale Earnhardt, a real patriot. And suddenly without much fuss and very little muss the Hippies had lost their battle and their dream. They had become their parents.
But you know it's hard to keep that hope for a brighter future burning when your shoulders are bearing mortgages, a job you hate, kids to trip over, and neighbors that keep you up at night. It's hard to keep flames alive when just finding the matches is about all you can do. You know now sitting there in your mid forties, Life does not change. You are born, you fornicate, and then you die. You realize your parents were right, they had this life pegged. It is better to live angry than to follow a dream.
____________________________
Afterword of sorts - I started this post with two words - Monday Morning. With nothing else to go on, what I just wrote was the result. I am often surprised with what I manage to dredge up from the cranial cesspool.
Keep it 'tween the ditches....................
________________________
I like living in a state that stays out of the national spotlight. It's almost like living in New Zealand or maybe Canada. We just sit here all comfortable in our double wides and watch the World go insane around us. I got used to this voyeur lifestyle. I got used to my smug self satisfied life believing Maine was the last bastion of sanity in the USA. Yeah I was full of myself that's for sure. So full in fact, for a moment I had forgotten that even though we Mainers had booted the Republicans off their majority high horse up Augusta way this last election, there was still our doofus Governor stepping out on a regular basis onto the National stage and proving that insanity exists even here in my northeast Eden.
Governor Paul Lepage, the 74th governor of the State of Maine. There have been dumass governors before and I am sure there are some in our future. So far to this point, not one has taken dumassery to such lofty heights as the bloviating liar Paul LePage. Elected by mistake or maybe because Mainers just lost their minds for a day. His less than a majority win two years ago in no way indicated he had a mandate. But like bullies and dumasses everywhere he puffed up his chest, swaggered into the Blaine House and proceeded to make Maine the laughing stock of America's political world.
The only thing that softened the blow was the GOP/Tea Party nation wide managed to install a whole slew of dumasses. Soon Paul and his lies, his idiocy his over bearing manner was lost in the sea of GOP/Tea Party dumasses throughout the land.
I could go over the countless embarrassing incidents caused by this man in the short time he has squatted in the Blaine House. But time is short and I need to make my point by exposing one of his lies and its affect on the national political scene.
Paul has always been critical of welfare. Okay, it is one of the run of the mill fires the GOP/Tea Party folks like to dance around hootin and hollerin gettin themselves all lathered up and ready to do battle against those evil commie socialist libs. I expect this kind of rabid behavior from the Right. It is one issue that has been in their issue quiver like forever. And I expect the truth they embrace regarding welfare to be stretched and twisted some.
Paul however must feel why tell a small lie, when a whopper will do. Seems a year or so ago he claimed, "There are more Mainers receiving welfare benefits than there are income tax filers paying taxes." He contended that 453,000 people received welfare bennies and only 445,000 paid any taxes. Like I said, not a small lie but a whopper. As it turns out, the number of folks who are on welfare in Maine is closer to 50,000 and if we count joint returns as like, oh I don't know being filed by at least two people, the number of tax payers immediately jumps to over 700,000. Add in those folks on Social Security and the number just goes up. Maine's population is around 1.3 million. There are at least 275,000 children, most of whom I figure are not taxpayers yet. You do the math. Obviously Paul did not.
It is bad enough we have to suffer this fool and his lies here in Maine, but recently as part of the national conversation regarding entitlements, Paul's lie has been hoisted up the entitlement pole and waved around for all the slack jawed of the Right to use as more justification that indeed this is a nation of takers and wanters.
And then the other day while cruising by the tube, whose face do I see on some national news program? Charlie Webster, the chairman of the Maine GOP. I stop and I cannot believe the words coming out of his mouth. Somehow "dozens and dozens" of blacks walked out of the woods and voted. And nobody knows these blacks. There must be voter fraud and by jeesus he is going to get to the bottom of it.
On behalf of the overwhelming majority of sane Mainers I would like to apologize to this great nation for allowing idiots like Paul and his dumber brother from another mother Charlie to confuse and make a mockery of the political process.
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If you don't want to listen to the whole interview - the remarks are around 15:45 in.
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I promised this election I would not fall into the pit. I would remain calm, cool, and occasionally collected. It is obvious I failed. ..............Okay..............So what do I say now?.....................NYAH NYAH NYAH we won and you didn't?........................That would be so inappropriate and sinking to their level some would claim. .............................. But the nasty side, the side of me that can't brush off the insults, disrespect and contempt the Wingers have been shoveling on me for the last many years....this nasty side wants to get up in their face....................... After all, I know if my shoe was their foot and their shoe was on mine they would be all over me like stink on shit..............show me no quarter and keep their foot on my throat. That's the Winger way.
Taking a deep breath. Filling these punished lungs with some of Maine's finest oxygen, I tried to calm down. The calmer I tried to be, the angrier I became......................Well that ain't workin. Instead I figured I would write down my impressions of this election and maybe some words of caution for the victors and a few well selected ones for the LOSERS.
Six Billion dollars
Hey LOSERS are you happy now? Managed to turn corporations into people and prove that corporations know how to piss money down the drain better than a 47%er at Wallymart just after cashin their welfare check. And like the shoppers at Wallymart, you came out with a shitty product that wasn't even worth half the price.
Negative Ads - Millions and Jillions of them
What the fuck are you people thinking? And don't you smirk you loser Obama ad folks. You have no reason to sit there all smug and shit. You were almost as bad. Remember this for next time. I turned yours off as much as I did Romney's. Cool it with the bad vibes, the lies, the technically accurate but when its put together makes the whole damn thing a big fat fucking 30 second lie. I am disgusted with the both of you. Assholes.
The Media
I was not going to mention YOU DICKWADS. I was going to keep you out of this. You were just doing your job I know. AND THAT'S JUST IT. YOU WERE DOING YOUR FUCKING JOB! And doing a mighty fine shitty job of it.
Next time stay home and watch Andy Griffith. You only made a bad situation way way worse what with your endless polls, your mob of pundits puking up polarizing nonsense who ended up not knowing their ass from their elbow. Here's a suggestion. Take those polls next time and shove them up the nearest pundits ass. And maybe instead of asking stupid questions just to fill air time, suck on a sock instead.
Romney
He lost. A great concession speech, but the canceled credit cards took the shine off that moment.
Obama
He won. And he better goddamned well stare those republicans down. Take it to them Barry. Find some Balls. I'm giving you until next election and then you're outta there......
I feel better now. And I know Life will return to normal in a few hours when I turn on the Patriots game instead of those assholes at MSNBC or Fox.
Ya'll have a nice day ya hear.............................................
The science guys and medical guys insist we all are packing the same hardware in our noggins. Exceptions exist based on genetics and mutations created by outside triggers like drinking while pregnant, smoking while pregnant, eating fish with three eyes and wearing sneakers, blah, blah blah. For my series about Brains, I won't consider these edge of the norm variables, just the standard package the majority of us supposedly start out with.
First of all, I have determined that we do not start out with the same hardware. There are two basic packages inserted at some point after coitus and before birth. Who inserts these two packages and why is not my concern with respects to this treatise. I will leave the who and the why up to the guy with the Bible in his hands.
1. The Female Brain
I won't pretend to understand the final product the Female Brain becomes once it is in control of the adult female. I do know that when the female brain is new and not used much yet, it is a sweet and gentle brain full of soft thoughts and gentle ideas. This all changes when hormones work their evil magic starting around the time of menstruation. The Female Brain moves it's center of operations to the heart and into territories unknown and unfathomable. Any actions put into play at this point forward are designed to befuddle and confuse the Male Brain. And whether the Female Brain knows of this confusion and befuddlement or not, the Male Brain becomes convinced the Female Brain is probably evil sent down to make their lives harder than they need to be.
2. The Male Brain
Right out of the gate the Male Brain is out of control. Full speed ahead. Gentle ideas and soft thoughts are not pre-programmed like they are in the Female Brain. The Male Brain likes to make its host eat dirt, pick its nose and throw loaded diapers against the wall. At some point this all changes however when an influx of hormones overwhelm the fluids in the Male Brain and girls are no longer yucky. The Male Brain then moves its control center south of the host's waist. From this point forward the Female Brain takes control. It is a wonder beyond the ability of science to understand how these two brains manage to even live on the same planet with each other. Often it seems they don't. But by some freakish combination of chemicals and a basic urge installed early in both to survive, these two brains find the time to ensure the future of the species.
I established now without a doubt the existence of not one brain but at least two distinct brains that control the actions of our species. My next installment will delve into the murky world of sub brains. It is here the fun really begins.
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