Category: random

While en route to Las Vegas, I had to stop to fill up my trucks gas tanks and empty my coffee-strained bladder. After fueling up, I raced to the public restroom.

Already there were three people, each one occupying one of the four stand-up urinals. This included a grandfather, his grown son and his grandson of about 11 years in age.

As I sidled up to the empty stall, I heard the grandpa say to his boy, “It sure is cold.”

Chuckling, the young man responded to the obvious joke, “Yup, and deep too.”

The pair snickered at their hilarity, jus’ as the grandson piped up, “Ohh – brain freeze!”

I laughed so hard that I damned near pee’d on myself.

Time and time again — I’ve heard newscasters ‘ripping and reading’ the Associated Presses ‘FBI verses Apple’ story saying, “the San Bernardino Shooter.” It should be “…the San Bernardino TERRORIST.”

Syed Farook is a TERRORIST; his wife is a TERRORIST!

If he were jus’ a “shooter” at a post office, a “shooter” at a high school or the Uber “shooter,” the FBI wouldn’t give a crap about his iPhone and this wouldn’t be a story. It’s time to think, and rewrite where necessary, because words really do matter.

Having hit my teens in the early 70s, I often used comic books to escape from the worry of the Vietnam War, riots as seen on TV, Watergate and gas rationing. It was nice to read some form of cheap ‘fantasy’ and tune out the real world.

Those were the days when you would go to the local neighborhood grocery store, mine was the Woodland Villa Market, and there on the metal turnstile rack would be anything from the old standard favs of Superman, Batman, Spiderman and Captain America to the less popular G.I. Combat, Sgt. Rock, The Unexpected, or Plastic Man. Today, you literally have to go to a book store to find a comic book – or subscribe to them like one would for any magazine.

One of my favorites was Weird War Tales, published by DC Comics. The anthology series came with supernatural overtones with horror, mystery, fantasy and science fiction elements – and was “perfect for a growing adolescent mind,” as my old man would say.

Recently, I went to Barnes and Noble to have a look around and I happened upon the January edition of Captain America. In it, a super-villain named Viper complaining about American exceptionalism and saying, “Someone has to make America marvelous again.”

Kind of sounds familiar doesn’t it?

Viper also has the audacity to whine about “overreaching government” and even asks, “Where in the constitution is anyone promised clean air, anyhow?”

It leaves me wondering — when did I become the enemy of Captain America?

For that answer one has to go back to August 1973, where Captain America was battling a conspiracy that led all the way to the White House. In the end, the head of the evil Secret Empire was then-president Richard Nixon, who killed himself, preferring not be captured.

 

Good thing I still have a trunk full of Weird War Tales to help me escape this adult world of twisted propaganda.

Why do some radio and TV personalities include the call letters or channel number with their names on Facebook? Do they think that is how people identify them.

Has some consultant told them this is good for their career? Don’t these personalities think they can stand on their own without adding the channel number or call letters to their own name.

It’s a silly practice.

For as long as I can remember, I’ve always been on the go. In fact, I’ve always craved adventure and activity of all sorts.

However, as I’ve grown older, I’ve discovered that some of the things I’ve survived have left their mark. The biggest mark in this case is my broken back.

Along with this come the usual aches and pains in and around the fracture site. But also because of this, my neck, shoulders and legs hurt from time-to-time.

It is with some hesitation that I share this as recently I added another pain in which I could bemoan. I’ve severely pulled (or even torn) my groin muscles and this is a hurt, though temporary, is one that I truly despise.

My philosophy about adventuring out into the wilds is much like my philosophy on life: I plan to do so for as long as I can walk and breathe. The moment I decide to give-up outdoor activity is the day my body id delivered to the undertaker.

That being said – I took a chance by rock-hopping some 50-plus feet above level ground. It nearly cost me everything as I stepped on some loose gravel and found myself without footing and rushing towards the edge of a drop-off.

Not one to readily panic, I flattened myself out onto my stomach and spread my legs as wide apart as possible while trying to find even the tiniest finger-hold to halt my decent. Somehow, I slowed and was able to grip a rough area in the rock’s surface using only a couple of my fingers on my right hand.

That was enough exertion to stress the muscles in my forearm, something that bothered me for a day or two. However, going spread-eagle really did a number on my crotch.

The burning sensation of a pulled muscle was nearly immediate – but far less painful than the alternative of falling. So, in essence and while it might sound like I’m complaining, I’m actually very happy to feel the hurt brought on by this newest injury.

It tells me that I am alive.

It also reminds me that I am not as young as my brain tends to trick me into thinking that I am. I’m also reminded that while surrendering to old age and aches and pains is not an option – being more careful while on trail is one option I cannot afford to overlook.

There may still be hope for the S.S. United States as Crystal Cruises has signed a purchase option to restore the historic ocean liner and bring it back into service. The option commits Crystal to cover the costs of preserving the ship while undertaking a technical feasibility study, expected to be completed by the end of 2016 at an estimated $60,000 a month.

Known as “the Big U” and “America’s Flagship,” S.S. United States has a history that harkens back to the golden age of ocean liners. Before its retirement in 1969, the SS United States was the most glamorous and elegant ship in the world, having transported four U.S. presidents, international royalty, many of Hollywood’s “golden era” celebrities, as well as a million passengers.

I also have a personal history with this vessel, as it was the ship that carried me and my parents back to America from France in late 1962.

Conceived as part of a top-secret Pentagon project during the Cold War, the S.S. United States was to be converted into a war ship and carry 15,000 troops halfway around the world without refueling, if needed. The ship is 590 feet long, about five city blocks, which is 109-feet longer than the Titanic.

Crystal plans to turn the ship into an 800-passenger luxury liner with 400 suites that measure 350 square feet. To transform the vessel — at one time, the most powerful vessel in the world, setting a record, which still stands, for the fastest transatlantic crossing in 1952 — will cost between $700 million to $800 million.

The S.S. United States Preservation Society has owned the vessel since 2011; before that, it was owned by Norwegian Cruise Line. If Crystal Cruises is able to navigate the S.S. United States through safety and environmental regulations and finance the overhaul, the ship could hit the seas sometime in 2018.

I’d love to sail aboard the S.S. United States once again.

My medication arrived via the U.S. Postal Service. The heavy plastic packaging was a mangled hole-filled mess and all but three of the 90-day supply of pills were gone, having fallen out of the severely crushed bottle.

Now, I’m trying to get the prescription refilled and the VA is dragging its feet. This is bureaucracy at its finest.

Good thing I’m being treated for depression, bi-polar disorder and PTSD and not paranoia — otherwise I’d think someone was out to get me.

The course work seemed easy as Jerry struggled to put his life back together. At his true middle age, he found himself homeless and without family or friends.

Each day Jerry arose, dressed and walked the two and a half blocks to the library and sat a computer console to complete the assignments given by his instructors the week before. He was such a regular that many of the staff, along with the other homeless men, knew him by name.

They could count on Jerry. He had a way with people – always upbeat – the sort of guy who could place a positive spin on most any negative situation.

Rarely though did anyone ever think to ask him what ailed Jerry.

But he didn’t mind, as he knew by the end of the second year that he was doing God’s work. It was the design the Creator had laid out before him in several dreams.

The voice in his head only served to reinforce this knowledge. Jerry also had a series of experiences that he knew could only be God-driven and therefore was certain he’d met his calling.

One day Jerry opened his file from the online-university to find a note addressed to him. It was somewhat of a surprise.

“At first,” it read, “I thought you were cheating somehow. But then I watched as you studied, sitting on the edge of your cot in what you call home.”

The instructor, Mr. Armstrong, explained that Jerry was the only student he had that had ever ‘aced’ his course. At first Jerry felt indignant but then the more he pondered it, the more he knew he should wear the acquittal as some sort of badge-of-honor.

Life changed for Jerry as he continued to study. Over the six-year period, he’d gone from destitute to owning a simple home and a decent vehicle.

Jerry had also met and married the woman of his dreams. She was more than willing to put up with his erratic work hours – even having gone to work with him from time to time to show her support.

The only problem Jerry could see in his life, was that his work wasn’t a part of his true calling – the one he had dreamed of all of those years ago. But he also continually reminded himself that ‘God is in charge’ and when the time was right, all would fall into place.

After another two years, Jerry finally came to accept that perhaps his dreams were simply that – “his dreams.” Around the same time he’d also found other ways to serve God, especially through his work.

Then it happened, nearly a decade to the date of his graduation from Divinity school, Jerry’s world began to crash around him. He lost his job, finding himself unable to find another one.

This time though, he didn’t feel the fear of losing his home, wife or even his friends. No, he insisted that there was a job out there someplace for Jerry.

“Odd,” Jerry said to the guy behind him in line, “I thought I had it all.”

“So how’d you end up here?” the man asked.

Sighing heavily, Jerry began to explain, “My wife got sick but was killed by a drunk driver as she headed to work one early morning.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” replied the man.

“Then the bank foreclosed on our home,” Jerry continued, “and because she was the only one with her name of the deed or whatever – I was left out in the cold.”

“That’s heavy man,” the other fellow said.

“Anyway, I’m starting over again – this time as an old man,” Jerry complained.

There was a long silence between the men, filled only with the harsh whispers of men down on their luck, the shuffling of worn-out shoes and the ragged breathing of men who spent to long in the cold evening air around a homeless camp’s burn barrel.

“You know,” the man behind Jerry finally offered, “God has a plan for all of us.”

Jerry glared in the direction of the man, “Don’t you ever tell me God has a plan for me! This is it and there ain’t no more!”

The silence was startling as the others in line grew instantly quiet as they waited for the homeless men’s overflow shelter to open its doors. Each man suddenly felt Jerry’s sorrow and anger co-mingle with his own.

The sun shines brightly
Shadows cast down towards earth
No tomorrows left.

It’s odd how Bill and Hillary Clinton’s names pop up in the strangest places. This time in connection with the now-besieged Malheur National Wildlife Refuge.

Pulled directly from the BLM’s website:

“In September 2011, a representative from Oregon Energy, L.L.C. (formally Uranium One), met with local citizens, and county and state officials, to discuss the possibility of opening a uranium oxide (“yellowcake”) mine in southern Malheur County in (emphasis mine) southeastern Oregon. Oregon Energy is interested in developing a 17-Claim parcel of land known as the Aurora Project through an open pit mining method. Besides the mine, there would be a mill for processing. The claim area occupies about 450 acres and is also referred to as the “New U” uranium claims.

Now couple this April 23, 2015 headline in The New York Times, “Cash Flowed to Clinton Foundation amid Russian Uranium Deal,” and you have the making of a great conspiracy. In a nutshell, the Russian State Nuclear Energy Corporation, Rosatom wanted to expand their operations into the U.S. and needed a way in.

So, in 2013, Rosatom acquired a Canadian company named Uranium One as part of a deal which involved multiple parties. This is the same Uranium One that is now known as Oregon Energy, LLC, according to the BLM’s website.

There is more to this story than meets the eye.