Category: random

Recently, someone sent me a post on Facebook inviting me to pick up the book nearest me and thumb to page 209, then share the sixth sentence on the page. I followed the instructions verbatim.

The closest book was to the left of me; Glenn Beck’s top seller, “It is About Islam.” I’ve found this is not a book to be read before bed time.

As quick as a wink, I opened the paperback to the specified page and drew my pointer finger down the required number of sentences. I quietly closed the book and set it aside, deciding not to play along.

Instead, I simply sat there and pondered the single word my sentence provided: “Apocalypse.”

Insomnia is a real son-of-a-bitch! I hate it when I get so tired I cannot sleep because it causes my mind to trigger and I fall into self-pity.

Honestly — this writing is nothing but an exercise in wasted time, meant only to help me clear my mind of the clutter which ails it. Being alone much of everyday gives one time to think and re-think, then eventually over-think everything.

Late night and early morning darkness doesn’t help either. Thus, I write whatever pops into my pea-brain.

A friend told me that ought to look to the future. Unfortunately this person has little to no idea that with nothing to look forward to, the past is all I have at present.

And time is running out on me. I have lost all avenues of escaping the hole I have found myself in as I struggle to hold on to what structure remains in my miserable life.

God knows how angry I am at the destruction on of “life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.” My anger turns to fury when I encounter idiots that are a part of the destruction.

Being easily prepossessed towards melancholia as I am – I understand how loneliness and a lack of success have worn on me. I’m tired of acting as if everything in this effed up life of mine were okay.

Obviously, it isn’t or I would be asleep now and not worried about my present state of being. And worse yet, it pisses me off that when a fracture appears in my public façade and I mention it, I hear, “It’ll be okay,” or “It can’t be that bad.”

And all I can think is, “Oh yeah?! Wanna bet?! You’re life looks pretty damned great from where I’m standing – mine’s in the shitter and worse yet – I’m the toilet paper!”

The whole damned thing makes me wonder what I’ve done wrong. In the end, I know there is really nothing wrong – I’m jus’ exhausted from a lack of sleep and I feel like bitching.

Now that that is all out of my system, perhaps I can get some shut-eye.

Perhaps everyone should get themselves arrested at least one in their lifetime, that way authorities will be certain to identify you should you be found dead alongside a random roadway.

Here’s a recent article out of Northern California:

“A body found in Southern Humboldt has still not been identified. Last Thursday, on Alderpoint Road near Dyerville Loop, a resident in the area walking their dog, discovered the body alongside the road.

No identification was found on the male victim and a fingerprint test was given. Unfortunately, no name has come up in the data base and law enforcement needs help in identifying the deceased.”

Yes, I know it is a sad story– but see how my mind works?

This is my ‘ego’ speaking – but I think a couple of my strongest suites when it come to writing are ‘headlines,’ and ‘conversations.’ Some times I come up with both and nowhere to use them.

For example, I came up with a headline that I doubt I will ever use: “The Politics of Stupid.” It can easily be applied to anything life, but after several months, nothing has come to mind where I could use it.

Then there is the case of coming up with random conversation – something that generally pops into my brain while I’m doing something else and it get stuck there until I can write it down. Many times these bits-and-pieces of conversation have nothing to do with nothing.

My most recent masterpiece spawned itself while I was taking a shower. Yeah, most folks sing in the shower – I talk to myself, sometimes in the third person.

“I’m chief among morons,” he said.

Puzzled, she looked at him and asked, “Why would you say that about yourself?”

“Because it’s true,” he answered with flatness in his voice.

She didn’t respond, knowing he was in another one of his moods.

But then there are also those times when I sit at the kitchen table, cup of coffee near by and stare at a blank page in my note-book, waiting for my muse to come and tap-dance across my forehead. That’s when I come up with some of the more interesting thoughts about myself and life in general.

“All my adult life I did every manly thing I could to make up for being an overly emotional child. Now look at me – I’m physically bankrupt,” or “The more skeletons we expose from our personal closet, the more we tend to create.”

These are the times when I think, “I’ve spent way too much time alone today.”

Mary brought home some Animal Crackers. Mind, you I hadn’t tasted one in a very long time, so I couldn’t wait to pop one into my mouth.

The little biscuits come in a bag now and no longer the rectangular box with the string handle. But that didn’t matter to me as I dug into them.

A hippo – that was the first animal out of the bag. But wait I thought, “Are my hands that much bigger since the last time I had one?”

Never mind, I tossed the cracker in my mouth and started chewing. Instead of the sweet delectable goo, I found myself with a mouthful of flat, sticky dough.

This wasn’t anything at all like my childhood memory.

Alas, like so many things from kid-hood, someone in the hope of making a better, healthier or profitable product had vanquished another small pleasure in life. Half-chewed, I pulled the paste from my mouth and offered it to our chow-hound Lab.

Even he turned his head away, not willing to sample the food he had been so heartily begging to be given. So I dropped it, along with the remaining bag of cookies in the garbage can.

Being a grown up shouldn’t have to be so disappointing.

Thank goodness for notebooks. My mind is a cluttered mess and if it weren’t for spiral notebooks, I’d really be jammed up in the thought department.

“I…I…I…,” is how I want to begin every sentence as I write. I don’t want to sound conceited – but at this hour of the morning I am being very single-minded.

Last night I went to bed very depressed. A friend of mine has moved forward with light speed into broadcasting, while I’ve languished over the past two years-plus without employment.

It is beyond my understanding how all this works. Some people find success or it finds them – while others like me seem to fail at every turn.

Then I have a friend, who out of her kindness reminded me that God has a plan for me. She instructed me to talk to God about this situation.

This pissed me off even further. I cannot for the life of me fathom why God wants me to sit on the sideline like this when he knows a man must work to be worthwhile to his family, society and himself.

It is my nature to see the rain clouds before it begins to pour. But once it starts pouring, I cannot help but notice that which is affecting me the most; the rain.

So far, in the last couple of years, all I have are rain showers when it comes to success.

In a junk drawer, I found my old diving watch from my service days. Odd how an inanimate object can make me feel so nostalgic.

Damned thing’s broken, useless, has been for years. But I jus’ can’t seem to throw it out.

Reminds me of my younger, bolder days. Reminds me of the person I was and the person I want to be.

It reminds me that I’m out of my depth.

It is both interesting and sad to see people willingly giving up their civil liberties when they have done nothing wrong. For instance, a man, who was openly carrying a weapon in a Bridgeport, Connecticut restaurant and store, recorded a confrontation with police officers requesting his gun permit which he repeatedly refused to produce.

The site hosting the video asked if it were harassment by law enforcement. After watching it, I felt compelled to respond.

“The question comes down to ‘probable cause.’ What probable cause does the officer have to even ask such a question,” I wrote. “Did the permit holder do something that can be construed as illegal? If not, there is no ‘probable cause.’ Thus, this technically violated the 4th Amendment as to illegal search.”

Immediately someone chimed in, “It is like asking for your driver’s license…I don’t think it is harassment.”

I replied, “An officer can only ask you for your driver’s license if they have pulled you over for a suspected violation or if you are involved in an investigation and they need to verify who you are.”

“What about road side checks? Might want to brush up on your case law,” some one else posted in response to my comment.

Another commenter posted, “He didn’t ask to search him, no different than being asked for ID! Wake the hell up! It needs to be done!”

No, but they asked him to produce the permit under the color of authority. So the word ‘search’ in this case is, “An examination of a man’s house, premises or person, for the purpose of discovering proof of his guilt in relation to some crime or misdemeanor of which be is accused.”

It’s obvious that when it comes to protecting one’s civil liberty, many people are too fearful to stand up to authority. The idea of being detained/arrested is too much for them to handle.

As Benjamin Franklin stated, “Those who would give up essential Liberty, to purchase a little temporary Safety, deserve neither Liberty nor Safety.”

“As we focus on destroying ISIL, over-the-top claims that this is World War III just play into their hands.” – President Obama, SOTUS, January 12, 2016.

So that we are very clear on this, it’s like when he mockingly said, “The 80s are calling and they want their policies back,” to Mitt Romney during the 2012 election cycle and a few months later Russian invaded Ukraine. And the day before Daesh (ISIS) claimed responsibility for killing 130 people in Paris, Obama told ABC’s George Stephanopoulos the terror organization had been “contained.”

“From the start our goal has been first to contain, and we have contained them,” he said, adding, “What we have not yet been able to do is to completely decapitate their command and control structures. We’ve made some progress in trying to reduce the flow of foreign fighters.”

He has made fun of those who’ve been against his position and policies from the very start of his presidency. Things like closing Guantanamo Bay, supporting the Arab Spring, continued relationships with the Muslim Brotherhood, saying that Islam is a religion of peace and claiming that a video started a riot in Benghazi which left four American’s dead.

“Here’s what happened. … You had a video that was released by somebody who lives here, sort of a shadowy character who — who made an extremely offensive video directed at — at Mohammed and Islam,” Obama told former show host David Letterman.

And as we’ve all learned as these last seven years have churned along — that when Obama mocks something – it is either going to or already has begun. Make no bones about it, World War III is underway.

Following the last snowstorm we experienced, Mary discovered a water stain on our ceiling in the living room. That night I went to bed with visions of handing over bags of cash to whatever construction company we hire to do the repairs.

The following day, while waiting for return calls from the three leading roofing repair companies in the area, I decided to get up on a ladder to have a closer look at the stains. I positioned the ladder right behind our couch and started up.

Because we have a vaulted ceiling and I’m short, I used the step on the ladder that you’re not supposed to stand on. I only needed a few seconds to inspect the area, so I felt I’d be okay.

Wrong.

Our Pit Bull, Roxy, became curious, so she decided to place her 60-pound plus frame, paws first against the legs of the ladder to take a closer look with me. Her action caused the entire ladder to shake and before I could get down, it toppled over.

Realizing that I was falling, I concluded my best bet was to jump. With only milliseconds to react I had to decide where to jump.

If I had landed on the couch with my 200 pound body, I am certain I would have broken the frame. I also had to avoid our two foot stools, as I knew impacting them, would hurt more than help.

Unfortunately, my jump became an extremely uncoordinated affair. Instead of landing on my feet after a tuck and roll as hoped, I flopped onto my right side with a horrific thud.

At that moment, Roxy sprinted out the doggie-door to disappear into our backyard. Our Black lab followed her, concluding that if she was running; he’d best do so too.

Our Yorkie terrier jumped up from where ever she was sleeping and ran to the front door to bark at it, thinking someone had knocked. She is so deaf that all she felt were the vibrations and not the real sounds of the ladder and I falling over.

As for me, I laid there assessing whether I was still alive and if I were, what was now broken and how long I would have to lay there until Mary got home. It only took a couple of minutes to figure out I was neither dead nor broken.

A day later I find myself to be one hurting unit. My right shoulder is giving me so much of a fit that I’m typing this using jus’ my left hand because I don’t want to lift my right hand any higher than I have to.

And though my curiosity about the water spot’s on our ceiling still hasn’t been satisfied, I’m satisfied with paying bags of cash to whatever construction company we hire to do the repairs.