A new paradigm. Facism. Not Conservatives

I am very shocked and disappointed.  I am sick of the media.  And I am sick of those who blindly follow, news  media,(both parties) You almost had a crisis of unimaginable proportions.     Hillary is evil.  Nasty to the military and I know this for a fact.  You see,  I was at Ramstein, AFB from 1981-1984.  The ColdWar!   And guess what?  I was a SSgt there,  a weather forecaster with Det. 2, 31st Weather Squadron.  Before that stationed at LRAFB, where she was cruel, to we in the military.   74-81. For us that served and spat upon. That was not an allegation…

We were part of NATO.  You could hear sorties being thrust through the air.  We had F-4s with the 86th Tactical Fighter Wing.   The 512th and 526th Squadrons.  We routinely had Chemical Weapons Drills.  There was,  a very real chance of armageddon.  Of course NATO and the United States Armed Forces in Europe (USAFE) are not blameless and were part of the problem, as was the Soviet Union and their coalition of dictators, who has fall-out  destroying a whole city! And worse, the sides effects of radiation illnesses.

The very first day at Ramstein,  the Bader-Meinhof gang blew up a portion of the NATO HQ there. I was told Ramstein was on lock down!  Then General Dozier was nearly killed as a bomb exploded, on a railroad track as his staff car was armor-plated was crossing!

But a flaccid Defense is not an option.  The tiger has escaped and the Giant Asian Hornet is beginning to migrate to Europe.  The Asian hornet is the 747 of stinging venom.  And the hornet is not a metaphor.  Thirty of those monsters can kill an entire nest of honey bees Roughly 30,000 honey bees!!  And can kill you in 15 minutes.   Like the Tiger and the hornets,  we have our hands full.

My point is,  if we do not brace ourselves,  our borders and our Allies,  spoiled baby-man of Korea Kim Jil Yung will send us a batch of radiation and that is just North Korea!  Iran is now armed to the teeth.  Thanks Obama!!!

I was stationed at this base,  when we had (United States) 30,000 Nukes and making it worse, Russian had 50,000!   Our aircraft were buzzed by East German MIGS!  We had T-37 pilots cussing out the enemy!   The A-10s were stationed a few miles down the road.

Both nations should be ashamed!   The sheer numbers of warheads, is one reason that the proliferation is spreading around the entire world so fast.

It is NOT about fariness.  In fact,  fairness is a dangerous concept, when this fairness is a snare.  When snarky reporters do more harm than good.   When politics is the end-game. When German Mayors downplay rapes and sexual harrasment to young girls.  When these same politicians tell native Germans to find a new path to their schools.

 

When illegal aliens get preferential to citizenship,  while Asians and others have to undergo all sorts of scrutiny.  I saw one Syrian refugee ( a woman),  who was appreciative of the host nation.   She has inclination to hurt anyone.  I would give my own life,  for an innocent  such as her.

Those minions who hurt defenseless people,  I would not.   My parents taught to respect all people.  I will not let them point a gun at me.  I can sho0t a rifle, if need be.

I want us all (The World) to start fixing housing,  the homeless and those needing medical care.  We need to start to occupying abandoned housing by cleaning those bases.

We need teeter todders over chemicals.  We need hope for a mental dichotomy and compassion for those who were let out to find a home under an underpass.

 

I have had two friends die,  one from ALS,  the other,  a rare form of Leukemia.  Is that  right,  when some of this is caused by radiation and chemicals!   I wish they were here today.  SMSgt Floyd Parton had the ALS.  Lucky for me,  I could talk to him before he died.  A deep sadness of mine,  who was gentle, kind and compassionate.  Bless you with tears in my eyes,  even as I type here.

We MUST start acting like adults.  We need to ban crude clitoral cutting in Africa which is in any case,  misogyny. We need to protect women from rape and the incidental reliving of rapes and ALL FORMS OF ABUSE.

So much to do,  kisses not rapes,  more prosecution of miscreants who don ski caps and women who  don the stigma of abuse.  Reeling and will continue to do so.  Ma`ny suffering mental abuse afterwards,  and not saying that they made a MISTAKE!!!

Let’s be sure we are the helping hand.  Not to terrorists,  but those who want together rebuild new bridges,  Metaphorically-speaking and literally too!  Please!

Meteorologist Mike Scott.

My cousin who died at 22. More than an athlete he was a good guy. RIP Joel.

My Mental Hospital Experience!

This was surely not any agenda of mine, being nullified in expression and seemingly nullified physically.   Near midnight,  I started to have these monstrous seizures.  I probably should have waited this out.  But destiny had other plans in mind. But as I arose to pack for the ER,  I fell.   Many items came down with me.  My corpulent cat was hiding behind the dresser and came out to see how I was.

She has an innate ability to discern disturbances that are emotional and physical.   Her support was at a safe distance.    Alternating paroxysms further enhanced my trepidation and Paramedics offering commands that I could not execute.  When I was aboard, the screaming sirens and ministrations of First Responders, further causing my bafflement.

At the ER,  I was given Atavan to diminish my distress,  moved to a triage area, which must be a kind of waiting room. for the insane,  I guess.   As I arrived there, I became a bit more lucid and a lot more dubious of my condition.  Long story short, the Doctor sent shivers down my spine as I was advised that I could volunteer or be induced too, with athe involuntary fate, much worse for the wear.

Arriving at the hospital,  I remarked to the person at the desk,  that this is surely a jail and he consolingly implied,  that it was not.   I was in fact,  diminished,  limited and just wondering what had happened.

After my entrance,  into the umbilical tether of mental health,  I felt lost.  Like Air Force Basic Training, sans shoe laces and a shave.   Once the skin check,  non-invasive but no less obtrusive, I donned medical garb,  we all have the grasp of that situation.  Flowing rhetoric and mindfulness.

I am sure that my consternation did not make my accommodations any less Bohemian.   A full-sized bed,  with a relatively thin mattress.  The rooms were bare but really clean and er, safe.    After making the bed sleep worthy,  I fell into a fitful sleep,  garnering about 40ish minutes of more slanderous slumber.

Then at 6:30AM,  I thought I was reliving the aforementioned basic training.  One guy in the food line,  kept raising his hands (one-at-a time) high into the air.  His bunk-mates seemed to pay him no mind,  but new admit-tents were a bit shocked .

Okay the food was decent and rooms clean.  Groups were fairly well run, and actually did gather some useful tips,  with ersatz coffee,  blended and roasted.  As the days passed,  my bewilderment slackened and it was kind of fun.   However, at each crisis, I was becoming more aware at this dichotomy of egress and a curfew of 11PM.   Felt like something didn’t quite fit and yet,  helping others muddle through.

I guess the therapist’s notes, saying my intelligence was very high, was a temporal aphrodisiac,  in a place where spoons doubled as knives and shoes strings were sublimated into lashes.  I did all that I needed,  in the first day.  I actively participated, and read books like a magic carpet ride.  I negotiated around the titular gendarmes and picayune rules meant for us all.  A few dust-ups and a litany of users, getting methadone and other meds.

In the end,  my regular Psych was baffled why I was in there, in the first place.   I pleaded with the ER,  that the information for the Epilepsy and so-called Bi-polar (Manic) congealed and morphed into a misdiagnosis.   When freedom rang,  I pushed for expediency,  with shoes tethered tight,  my personal belongings that were sequestered, in twin bags.   In the words of Kurt Vonnegut, “So, it goes”.   Inside,  we were lodged into a Miasma, with my name on  it.  Now,  I was emancipated with croons and cries and a  bit of dishevelment to boot.

 

 

 

In The Name of Discipline?

The ads are appealing,  promises and guarantees that hard loving their teens would make them more likely to be good.    So many of their restrictions were flat wrong.  Using mail as a carrot stick was wrong on so many levels.   Subjecting them to strip searches and BCS,  were and are dehumanizing.    Add in lack of phones to parents and family,  and there is a great quotient for abuse.

“Parents teach children discipline for two different, indeed diametrically opposed, reasons: to render the child submissive to them and to make him independent of them. Only a self-disciplined person can be obedient; and only such a person can be autonomous.”
― Thomas Szasz

 

Hey,  timeout was no big deal.   The backpacks were supposed to be 30% of their weight and the 70lbs they  bore is quite a bit more.   I have some links that are must reads,  because they talk about deaths and extreme physical abuse.   One Asian girl was thrown off a truck and died.

https://www.hcn.org/issues/61/1913/#comments

http://www.hcn.org/issues/61/1912?src=rc

 

A movie called ‘Bootcamp’,  starring Mila Kunis pretty much sums up conditions and punishments doled out,  to intractible slaves (teens).    Besides the Cavity Searches and beatings,  make me think of Concentration Camps as to a catharsis from being out-of-control brats (which many were).

Abducting these kids with the permission of teens would be disallowed in the first place.  Called ‘Escorts’,  they would go to the kids and haul them off in handcuffs or being drugged,  ending up in some camp far away.   We treat criminals better than this.   Factor in some judges being paid to send kids off to jail or boot camps,  then how can that be right?

 

 

Thankfully the number of camps have been from like 18 to 3 camps and most have better safe-guards.   But while they do some things,  death is not among them.

 

Some of these kids are mentally ill and sending a kid who has real mental issues is a non-starter.

Prozac Nation. Your thoughts! The Long and winding Road.

As I watched the movie Prozac Nation,  Christina Ricci is sitting naked on the bed while her mother comes into the room and opens the window tells her to get going.    Ms. Ricci is going yard.   She is off to Harvard to ply her skills and hone her narratives on life as she experiences life away from mom and dad.     Her home life was idyllic in the sense of having nice clothes and a supportive mother but she did not like people because she assumed they did not like her.

She of course had her drugs,  mainly medication for her behavior but she added X,  LSD,  Marijuana and Alcohol to her mind bending menu.    She had a narcissistic,  womanizing  father who avoided her  during her early teen years and a madly manic’ mom whose insecurities rubbed off on her talented but troubled child.

After the first party her own manic behavior corrupted her friendships and she was openly antagonistic at the worst moments.      She already had an emotional problem and the sense her life was going to be short.   She was also a cutter and obsessive about her writing.

On a personal level her behavior is NOT necessarily outrageous given her medical,  yes medical condition.   Depression and anxiety is not cured by psychotropic drugs because cognitive and awareness therapies can redirect some of the more harmless inclinations.    Those treatment modalities may not cure and so the right medications will help fix some of the neurochemical issues.

When I first started taking Citalopram it was not effective so was switched to the drug Sertraline which did alter my awareness around me.    Initially my family and specifically my brother indicated I was more aggressive.   I may have been but I believe a lot of that was a change and the change was discomfitting.    I resolved that I was becoming more aware of what was eating at me.    My comprehension of my behavior and thoughts became my own.

The sheer terror of public speaking is a theme that caused me a lot of anxiety as a kid and was not helped by the constant threat of violence in the schools.    Corporal Punishment hardly phased the hard-butted strong-willed student but to the good kids,  it became an obsession and fed into my own distrust of 99% of people.

I understand Elizabeth’s (Ricci’s) impulses and her lack of control and the desire to please everyone long enough to find an egress from a social situation.  Hers was self-medicating.   I was fairly skilled in language and was a prolific speller with a great vocabulary.   I read college text books in fourth grade because they were fun.     What I hated was the spotlight.   I really loved sports and always felt like people who were watching were judging me.    By the time I was in my early twenties I went back to the high school and played basketball during recreation at the school  and a childhood nemesis who said,  “Damn you are talented.”    I tell you,  for a moment in the social context that was a homerun.    I did practice and I shot threes with touch.   I prided myself getting lost in a place I felt safe.    Both scared and excited was when I made my first bucket in a game.   I remember like it was yesterday.   A high arching shot and nothing but net.   That was an ice breaker of a kind but too much is a bad thing.

Retreating into my own little Universe I groped for safety without a safety net and the feelings of being judged,  even by family.    My hypercritical thinking makes me a very good weather forecaster but the downside is that skill causes me confusion and alarm.    I have overcome a lot of things educationally but extreme anxiety has rendered me inert in many situations.    I sometimes hate myself,  question my own sanity and perceived stupidity.

The exact origins I am slowly rooting out.   I am reconnecting with friends from my own class of 74 and finding out that the girls thought I was cute and so on.    But this is a slow process and reconciling the pain and anguish is hard.  My cats help and we share a symbiotic connection that I believe benefits us all.

So her behavior is not unusual and her journey through the darkest abyss is a journey that we must take.   The therapy, drugs and finally a modicum of self-acceptance.    We are what our neural pathways allow for.   Mine is a hardwired hyper-awareness.

Real life In The Fast Lane.

Most times just going to the store can be an event that can only be coped with by getting in and out as fast as possible.    You feel like to see the curb you have to look up and you resent people getting too close to you and not being sure about their motives.   The hate and revulsion you bear is multifaceted.  For example,  my writing might be better except I find it hard to be too long in one place.   Sleep helps but I am getting older so do I want to waste too many days.

I care for people who are hurting.   I have worked at the Shriners and the CCFA and done charity events to benefit others.   That stuff is good and I am pretty humble about it,  even as I donate to special causes for the alleviation of hardship.   Outwardly I am respectful but inwardly very untrusting because my puzzle was shaken so much that I do not know that all the parts are still there.   And considering the fact that I might fail I use the excuse of quitting to preserve my margins.    I just can’t take another loss.

Some tragedies have been more profound than others,  so heartbreaking that I trust precious few.   Exploitation of the weak is a mortal transgression especially when I see no sense of guilt but the sociopathic behaviors of people who may be family or friends.   You can apologize and I will accept it,  now if I can forgive myself.

I just fed my two cats.   I have so much fun at the labor of love because they will not or cannot hurt me.   I am not perfect but I am no Jack the Ripper,  nor do I spit on any man’s grave.   When Saddam was hung I felt no joy although he had done enough that his death was the only solution.   Barbarity is always barbarity.   I just wish that people would apply astringent to all wounds,  sort of like MDs.

There are times when the tides of my consternation wash over me and I get confused between the different points in my life.    Not knowing where the hand may come and realizing that no one really comes out ahead.    So,  at this moment I was feeling bad but my kitty insisted on soft food and I realized it was her time and all I could feel (to both of them) was mercy and love.    Figuring the rest will work itself out.