Too much whiskey last night
Much too much black coffee tonight
I need to get myself a life

From my notes:  “ISIS is claiming responsibilty for the Las Vegas mass shooting.”

Twenty-three year old Renee Cesario describes how 21-year-old U.S. Marine Brendan Kelly saved her life in the opening moments of gunfire in Las Vegas, on Sunday night.

“Brendan and I met only 2 hours before the Jason Aldean show. I left my friends so we could go up super close to the front for the end of the night.

We were just dancing and having fun and then all of the sudden there were loud noises that sounded like fireworks, but no lights were going off. It stopped, and Jason Aldean kept playing but then the shots fired again and he ran off the stage.

Before I knew what was going on, Brendan tackled me down to the ground and covered me from the fire. It stopped again and he looked around to see what was happening and then it just kept going.

He looked at me and said ‘We have to get out of here. We can’t stay here. It’s not safe.’ Then he pulled my arm up to get me out of the piles of people. We had no idea who was dead or who was alive. We just started to run.

He kept telling me it was going to be okay and to keep running until we were safe. He even let me use his phone to stay in touch with my sister. The whole night he didn’t leave my side.”

There are sharks in this damn water
But I’m the striped tiger, beyond king.
Fuck with me and I’ll drown you
And your progeny’s coming progeny.

Perhaps I’m nothing more than drunk,
Ten feet tall, bullet proof, pissed off
Don’t know exactly why, but then — hey
I don’t think I need a reason, do I now.

Maybe it’s a lack of family, friends,
A lack of social grace or company.
Perhaps I need to get laid real hard,
But what can’t get up, can’t get out.

The usual suspects are all lined up,
Ready to have the shit-crap slapped
From their stupid-assed mug-faces,
But my mug – it stands alone — empty.

So swim at me sharks, come for a bite
But be warned I bite the fuck back, so
Give me another two-fingers of whiskey
Let me wash it down with blood n’ beer.

From my notes:  “I think the reason Obama’s keeping his mouth shut is because of the ‘Bump Stock,’ police found in the shooters room, a piece of shooting equiptment he approved as president.” 

When Taylor Benge went to the Route 91 Festival in Las Vegas on Sunday, an agnostic. He left a Believer:

“I was agnostic going into that concert and I’m a firm believer in God now. Because there’s no way that all of that happened and that I made it and I was blessed enough to still be here alive talking to you today.

My sister and I, we started running to the left and every time they shot, we took cover. My sister, being as noble as she, she actually threw herself on top of me and was saying, ‘I love you Taylor, I love you.’

From my notes: “All but three of the 59 people killed in the mass shooting in the Las Vegas have been identified.”

Survivor Heather Gooze was working as bartender when the shooting started, but she risked her life to stay at the side of the dying Jordan McIldoon. She describes the situation:

“You could hear everyone shouting, ‘Shooter, shooter,’ This was legitimate terror. There was a moment where you’re like, ‘I don’t know what to do.’

And then you’re like, ‘All right, go.’ I put my hand on the arm of the guy that was laying there. We brought him over to the sidewalk and we lay him down.”

“I had an off-duty police officer, it was a Minneapolis police officer, off-duty, was in my bar hanging out. He came up to me and showed me his badge, and he says… ‘I’m [a police] officer and I’m not armed for the first time ever. I can’t believe it. Are you armed?’

I said yes I am armed. I [have] my concealed carry.

Based on a tale I heard as a child from my grandmother…

Truth and Lie meet at the local swimming hole, where Lie says, “It’s a great day.”

Suspicious, Truth looks at the sky before agreeing.

Lie says, “The water’s nice, let’s go for a swim”

Still suspicious, Truth checks the water before agreeing. They get undressed and start swimming.

Then without a word, Lie gets out of the water, puts on Truth’s clothes and runs away. With no other alternative, Truth chases after Lie to get her clothes back.

Since then, Lie, dressed as Truth, has been traveling the World spreading falsehoods because people don’t want to see the naked Truth.

There’s no way to hate
Without getting jelly and crumbs
On your hangman’s noose.

How Vince really lost his left ear — and damned near his life.

“Be careful with it,” the archaeologist exclaimed, “It might have a metal frame, but it’s also made of glass and is very fragile!”

The six assistant’s continued moving the heavy artifact between the narrow walls of the old building and up the newly prepared dirt ramp. The structure had been part of an underground complex abandoned several thousand years before it’s rediscovery.

Once they made it to the surface, the same archaeologist that had warned them to be careful, squatted down next to the item to get a better look at it. He’d never seen an object like it and was certain it was a one of a kind.

He held his scanner against the object’s outside metal rim, while speaking into the scanner’s recorder, “Length, 2.1336 by 1.0668, height, 0.0009144 and weight, 680.3886.”

Gently, he dusted away some of the millennia-old build-up that had accumulated on the flat glass screen and peered inside the thing. “Long, cylindrical glass tubes, still intact, a slight bluish tint. Four total.”

That’s when he noticed the hinge work on the far side of the discovery. He looked up at the concave top with its curved glass and saw another set of four glass tubes and concluded that it must be designed to encase something.

“But what?”

Then he saw the cord and it’s heavy plug with it’s three prongs and recognized it as being ‘electrical.’  He quickly returned to where the object was and searching the wall, found what he believed to be where the artifact would’ve been attached to a power source.

Back outside, he walked all the way around the thing, scanning it in full. That’s when he found the faded graphics, that once translated, read something to the effect of ‘sun-cradle,’ or ‘solar-crib.’

“Quickly, bring me a genetic test kit!” he demanded.

Once in hand, he prepared a swab and drew it across the glass of the lower half of the bed, then scanned it. “Human genomes.”

After looking over the ‘bed’ one more time, he spoke reverently into his scanner, “It appears that this apparatus was used in an as-yet unknown religious ceremony, wherein they sacrificed the victim or possibly a willing volunteer by cooking them alive.”