There is a false dichotomy spreading across this nation. Rather than bridging the abyss, the ravine grows colder, deeper and in disrepair. Mountains rumble, at loss. Time is suspended. The cloudy white milk pours from deciduous pine trees, while hawks lurk high above in their rarefied air, sending out notice, to prey.
Fear not the rain, nor the poles, nor the mighty storms at sea. They drain and sustain creating rivulets and rivers, of disparaging diversity. Conditional causes, which do not change matter, but subverts it. Hollowing trees, scattering bees and bees being boarders in their own land.
We walk a tight rope and swing from literal AND LIBERAL vines. We have no time for childish dreams, yet we are the epitome of games and rancor. We flourish with pens, inks and blotters, we stutter with jurisprudence.
My own odyssey was Quixotic. It started out with being sequestered in a Mental Hospital in Raleigh, NC. That lasted about eight days. The reason for the visit to the ER was a Major Seizure Attack. The adventure had morphed into a kind of confinement, a suggestion of mental entanglement. Upon release, I contacted the hospital and with swift hyperbole, I mounted their unilateral conjecture, into a scathing injunction to repartee with a patient. I MADE MY POINT. Essentially saying, “do not condescend to me and patients alike”.
I may again at some time during the next couple of weeks. For right now, more terrible blogs, for you to enjoy and me to destroy. Peace.
It is Christmas time and agreeably it has become about gifting, regifting and black Fridays. So the expections are more about the big tickets like items, a diamond ring or a brand new and expensive car.
And then the neighbors pining through a kitchen window, about that car. But we know that that is not the feeling we wish.
It is not even the Christmas classics but the cookies, the fudge, mistle-toe and Holly. And it is about ….. the stocking. Not much fits in it, but it’s relatively small size, belies, its intrinsic value. The handmade ornaments, made of construction paper. It IS all about the intrinsicness of childhood, free of spending money on things, you can do without and a lot of which, are returned. Like regifted fruitcake and leftover meals.
Due to a loss of the stocking, a large space is left and then it becomes adult recreation that fulfills the void left by wrapping paper and bills that make matters worse.
There are incontributibutable tales, of years of real peace, that continues and that manifests itself in an acceptable drama and a welcoming catharsis, that even Christmas cannot fufill.
Rather than an escape, but an admix of pleasure and release. A moment or moments, that seem to outsiders as bizzare and even sociopathic.
Is there anything more sociopathic than Black Friday, that can be done online? So, I muse over muses like in Xanadu, the rekindling of escape and solicitude, giving and receiving the very need that seems to slip through our fingers.
The silk of sin and pleasureable moods never leaves and the fulfilment, exotic to a fault, but that is the pleasure and romance one needs. Total abandonment and reclusive release. The corporal silk of the sensitivity of the skin and the control over it. Never to subsist, but growing in confidence.
It is pleasing to be pleased AND more than desirable to be desired. To be desirous of being another one is better than being a Kate in the Bush or rather two Kates or Phoebe Cates is a conundrums or two out of a pool.
Does the smell of a sagacious skunk offset it’s perspicacious nature and esoteric wit? Does the dying flower die to be on it’s own grave? Is Willy Wonka a policy wonk or a Hershey’s kiss desired?
Every rose has it’s scones and every Knight has his flower, so by that are we to assume, that a stinky rose’s prick a knife? Just wondering my friends…. I guess that makes me wonder what I am not sure.
“The attraction of horror is a mental, or even an intellectual, excitement, but the fascination of the repulsive, so noticeable in contemporary writing, can spring openly from some rotted substance within our civilization …”
Ellen Glasgow
Think about it. We have a form of pornography that is almost passe. It is a horrible sin to show a nude butt or breasts but we let psycho-social imagery of young girls provocatively dressed and then brutally assaulted and maybe beheaded or otherwise violated.
We yawn if someone is brutally murdered. And then talk about sexual deviance and ignore the greater sexual smut. It is… misogyny. It depicts nubile young women as sexual objects and then murder them in a frenetic bloody massacre. We then try to figure out why children and young people become so perplexed. A sociopath sees a target rich environment and apologists make every excuse for that aberrant behavior.
When the truly horrific happens, we were far too busy talking about help, charity and sponsorship. Where were we when a poor bullied child is sobbing and sitting on a floor in the middle of the school? Do we call it teen angst or do we analyse the problem and get that confused person some help?
Then stories like Casey Anthony (talk about a sociopath) or Tanya Harding happen, or Tiger Woods, OJ Simpson and The Fish that Stole Pittsburgh and when we can’t get enough of the slanderous, especially the sexual, we go even further and become transfixed over the almost cult-like feel of one of these scandals.
At the same time, sexual and physical abuse go unchecked. We moralize, we rant and we talk about justice and let the poor bugger die of exposure to the cold because we were too busy with Foxy Knoxie Amanda Knox.
Yet do we try to understand and fix the root of the problem? Do we get the person convicted of sexual deviancy a way to get better? Or do we release these people back into the mainstream to do what they do?
Where has mercy and love gone? We talk of no tolerance but we arrest a kid using a banana as a gun and missing that AK-47. Teens mug and kill a feeble 90 year old and then spend weeks on a questionable murder, in a time with potentially sociopathic cops, charlatan evangelists and parents more eager to settle out of court than helping the victim.
People say there are no rehabilitating murderers and sexual predators and yet we leave unstable people to roam the streets and they don’t even need a gun to cause a lot of heartbreak. What do we do for the victim and why the victimizer did it in the first place? Many times the perpetrator was hurt in the same way. If we are consistent we realize a huge problem. That easy fixes usually are Hollywood fantasies.
As soon as the hype dies down, the victims are virtually forgotten by the media. Trayvon Martin is still dead. The poor old 90 year was yesterday’s news. Media has become a breeding ground for narcissistic and delusional circus freaks. They exploit the story and then do absolutely nothing. The killer continues to kill and the sexual deviant continues his or her deviancy.
No solutions, no ideas of when some relief may come and just waiting for a chance to editorialize even more.
Seeing Nancy Grace huff and puff about the latest scandal or crime, one gets the feeling that these crimes are the highlight of their day.
That we can talk about tolerance (or the lack of) for opposing ideas even if they are in the majority. Wrong will always be wrong but we lack the courage to call wrong wrong and right is really right.
The prince of darkness and a highlighter pen. Marking his victims one through ten. Studying his quarry he chuckles and chortles, oh how he loves the mere mortals. The sun on hiatus in a full moon dark, which gave us our peculiar spark and gave our paths original names, in honor of men called errr. Peter and James.
His quarry are gathered, some of the best and the brightest, or so they think, he’s getting ready to show them and throw at them, even the proverbial sink. Pretty soon the ten became thousands… finally much more.
Pretty soon the gavel smashed and the room quivered in fear, why did our friend call us here? Why does this place has tall fiery gates and pictures of all their victims? Wait?
A sonorous laughter filled the great room, as the chandeliers began to shake and fill them with doom. Pretty soon it was all for themselves, as their allies wore signs and epitaphs from many wars.
The choir was assembled, not hastily though, it was time for the revenge of the primate doe. Fear coursed through body and their much troubled brains, is this what happens just before the holidays.
Now the penniless pauper with his nubile daughter look directly into the eyes of of.. new found doubt. The King’s crown looked a bit withered and dithered and the jewels now gone replaced with inscriptions. The writings now were in many languages but still just one, there was going to be no room for interpretation, no not one nor drinks of ale or the fattest of quails. This was their requiem for filling the jails.
The horny magistrate with his pointed tail, was giving them remorse with the whip of his tail. Suddenly they wanted to cry but none of that, they were going to eat envy with silent wails. All the former slaves laughed with glee and the sting of the whip could never cut so deep as the sting of a trapped conscience.
So bullies beware, an election or coop lasts for a few years only and then my fearful one, all is done and made right.
The sudden storm blew in. The tumbleweeds rushed by and the howl of the wind pushed them like unwanted stepchildren. I was one of those unfortunate souls, who prayed for darkness and heavy rain. The gloom seemed to cheer me up, the low clouds compacted the world and the heavy snows further reduced the shrapnel of ugly words and harsher correction.
Even better was the icy and snowy weather that kept the devil at bay. The whiteness like a signet made it official and angry ice cycles crashed from atop the roof of our house. At night I would sleep walk, perhaps to walk into the road or fall upon the broken glass. One night in my dream state I decided the camper window should be a punching bag. The echoes of anger that permeated my realm.
In my heart I cheered the removal of my anxiety. The sound of the engine and in it’s wake a measure of relief. On one occasion we had two cats. For some reason that one day would harbor a death penalty for one of our cats. With seventeen acres of land, my father determined that one should die.
My brother took at him and with a thud, my heart filled with pity, anger and disillusionment. Unbearable voices led me to the scene and the grave of soft ash an ethereal tomb. Suddenly the Raven appeared and that poor cat with blood on it’s side to my astonishment that poor gray cat seemed to be begging, hoping for some kind of reprieve and a tear or many fell. My brother finished the task and that thought and an attempted or threatened murder of my mom at five, congealed into an unholy miasma of doubt and uncertainty.
Like the gales of a winter, this inclement weather was a well-timed respite. Revenge against the Tsunami that always lain in wait. A patient wraith with a two-edged bite and like a small warrior I tried to turn away that wrath, especially for a mother whose esteem in our eyes was stunted.
Maybe the rain was a song of sadness reaching out for love, surely such wrath would pass but never did. As I grew up the mixed messages closed in around me. I made my peace with that person I called dad and seeing his own tragedy I gained perspective about him. Unable to justify he reached out. Forgiveness? Without a doubt and an unlocked toolshed seemed so unimportant now.
I did not glory in his sickness but I did look back and realized the good that was hidden from plain sight. No one can justify abuse but a humble heart finds a way. Gasping for breath all I could do is hold his hand. This warrior who too late for himself never really enjoyed the fruits of his ambition until the very end.
He and my sister found a common ground and her fear was not being able to be loved by him. In all that, that is my special moment with Dad. The cold aloofness and rage was dulled by the medication and softness of a pillow. As he drew his last breath, I felt release in him, the devils vanished in a bright light and the shadows cowered.
The lesson is never give up. As bad as life can be, we can survive. I survived a certain hell which has led to my OCDs and fear of random violence. I have several panic attacks every day but I am learning to get well and move on. One rung at a time.
Well, they’ll stone when you’re try to be good
They’ll stone ya just a-like they said they would
They’ll stone ya when you’re tryin’ to go home
Then they’ll stone ya when you’re there all alone
But I would not feel so all alone
Everybody must get stoned.Well, they’ll stone ya when you’re walkin’ ‘long the street
They’ll stone ya when you’re tryin’ to keep your seat
They’ll stone ya when you’re walkin’ on the floor
They’ll stone ya when you’re walkin’ to the door
But I would not feel so all alone
Everybody must get stoned.
They’ll stone ya when you’re at the breakfast table
They’ll stone ya when you are young and able
They’ll stone ya when you’re tryin’ to make a buck
They’ll stone ya and then they’ll say “good luck”
Tell ya what, I would not feel so all alone
Everybody must get stoned.
Well, They’ll stone you and say that it’s the end
Then they’ll stone you and then they’ll come back again
They’ll stone you when you’re riding in your car
They’ll stone you when you’re playing your guitar
Yes, but I would not feel so all alone
Everybody must get stoned.
Well, they’ll stone you when you walk all alone
They’ll stone you when you are walking home
They’ll stone you and then say you are brave
They’ll stone you when you are set down in your grave
But I would not feel so all alone
Everybody must get stoned.
We’ve got
Police Brutality- Murder in the Streets
Right vs Left
Political thieves – Ali Baba
Crips/Bloods
Oultaws/Angels
Sharpton/Westboro
Kennedy/Reagan
Bush/Clinton
ACORN/KKK
Tea Party/Black Panthers
Rap/Death Metal
Fire/Rain
Blood and Steel
You can’t be real.
Lots of talk/no action
Food Kitchens/Billionaires
Heinz/Koch Bros
Getting rich,
No wonder Life’s a bitch.
Black, white
Asian and Cree
Political Correctness
D AND R.
We are in this together and the politicians and representatives represent and stop playing the race card because we are people and that is it. We have the future to consider and changes that are not political as much as pragmatic that will benefit us all. You see people excluding others in the name of a cause, whether it is abortion, guns, abuse, race, etc and we need to act now. Volunteer, help and make the world a better place and forget slogans. Do this!
Last night as I was perusing Hulu Plus, when I happened across the Korean movie, ‘Meet Mr. Daddy’. In this movie’ Joon’ is a sickly child who wants to be with her daddy, who happens to be a small-time petty criminal who gets in over his head with unscrupulous gangster boss. The dad who got arrested by the police was given an option of being a father with a stipend in lieu of incarceration.
The dubious dad thus picks up the guantlet with litte intention of really doing the right thing. However the charms of a young girl and their need of a dad certainly can work magic and this movie did.
In a roller coaster ride of highs and lows, little Miss Seo Shin Ae (joon) manages to change the heart of a down and out miscreant who learns what love is and utlimately becomes a dad to this sweet baby. She was around seven years old and sick however she shares something with her because they both like soccer and she predicts a Korean win.
Rather than say too much, I just to say how this obviously simple plot surprised with little Joon providing a few laughs and a dogged determination to find happiness. With all the rancor of Adrian Peterson and his young son, I am perplexed by the simple-minded hate directed at this father who went too far. However just as in this movie, life is about second chances.
The greatest judge of us will be our kids and since I lost one kid just after birth and another was missing for fifteen years, I get angry with outsiders who cannot seem to understand that is NOT about the reader of these news events but the victims all the way around. This movie highlights the need for embracing life while we still have it.
Finally, this movie kind of snookers you into a sense of bland drama with a dynamic conclusion and why girls need a loving and doting father. The exchange of blessings is a private matter between imperfect parents and affectionate little ones.
This movie is a must-see. So let us cast off the pride that immediately wants to destroy people’s lives and work on your own relationships and see what kids can see and parents can learn. It is not too late!!
We have all tripped on a few landmines in our lives and then justified it as being human. And there is nothing wrong with that, except when you forgot about your own errors in judgment. Do we need a remembrance to keep us straight or do we just pile on and let the chips fall where they may?
Now, there are abusers out there and many are women!
{. Everyone quotes the statistics given by the National Coalition Against Domestic Violence: 1 in 4 women will be victims of domestic violence at some point in their lives, 1.3 million women are assaulted by their partner every year, 85% of domestic violence reported is against women. However, in a conflicting survey taken by the CDC in 2010, it was found that 40% of the victims of severe, physical domestic violence are men}
Okay ladies, we need to gloss over that and for sure men do not want to seem like wimps but there is a time when someone is going to jail and if you deny that you were abused after being abused, then it could be said that not all attacks are being reported!
As usual the media loves to stir up the hornet’s nest and then leave a pile of manure in it’s wake. And sadly, the issues are buried as the next best story avails itself or some development where more accused surface and so the claims go on and on and on.
Men, as well as women, are victimized by violence. Sexual abuse and rape create substantial physical and psychological harm to male victims and perpetuate the cycle of violence. Men and boys are less likely to report the violence and seek services due to the following challenges: the stigma of being a male victim, the perceived failure to conform to the macho stereotype, the fear of not being believed, the denial of victim status, and the lack of support from society, family members, and friends. This according to the National Coalition to Domestic Violence.
For more information or to get help, please call: National Domestic Violence Hotline at 1-800-799-SAFE National Sexual Assault Hotline at 1-800-656-HOPE National Child Abuse Hotline at 1-800-4-A-CHILD
So my friends there you have it. People like that idiot James Brown (the announcer) is just as guilty and pathetic as the NFL and other media who purport to be about women and knowingly commit this felonious rendition of so-called social justice!
Of course we expect an open mind when we fail. Presumably because ours was not so bad, not really. You don’t know me! So, it goes. Then a scandal breaks and the media feeds the feeding frenzy by storming off stage in a fit or rage and letting you know where they stand.
But there is a letter missing. A letter that adds clarity and truthfulness and is a humbling word that is fast becoming a desiccated symbol of a metaphorical and geopolitical hell . Bereft of logic and reliant upon emotions, the best and the brightest (self-aggrandizement at it’s worst) declare to us unwashed, trailer trash adults as intellectual deadbeats.
I want to buy the vowel ‘E”. And adding this one small letter is to completely reframe humanity as more ‘humane’. Fed by a narcissistic media and spin-meisters our society resembles the Catholic Crusades or Islamic Jihad. But the most pernicious fly-in-the-ointment is ‘Political Correctness’. By using this tactic the vocabulary becomes constricted like the Orwellian language of INGSOC where more is less or less is more depending on the current translation of the words. Or the King’s English?
To many, the News is a TV dinner full of political preservatives and false calls to justice and action. They are probably the most guilty, the Ken-dolls waxing euphemistically at over their own cant and hyperbole. As a person with a severe anxiety disorder, finding calm and relative bliss can be a chore. Now couple those obstacles that everyone else shares is beyond me.
What Tiger Woods did is none of your business aside from the smarmy details and since I do not care about such things, it is of no interest to me and it shouldn’t to you. Find a hobby, pick your nose or find your Ouija Board. Don’t tell me they deserve it because they are celebrities. I am no fan of celebrities but I do not get carping on others what a lot of you have done. Yes, some of you do these things or worse and that includes a few woman as well.
I have never understood the logic behind that or worrying about Janay Rice unless you care about her predicament and help her now that Ray Ray does not have a job. That’s none of your concern either but a matter which involves their family and they have the right to privacy. They did not sign a waiver to make a lot of money thus forfeiting their rights to a bunch of truncated vigilantes with severe boundary issues.
Ray did very wrong and needs to learn that he can never do such things and then gets . To say it is all abuse of women smells of sticking your hooked nose and split tongue into matters which have no bearing on your own life. And anyway, who are beating these drums? The feminists see a chance to intervene with the end game being only their opinions. Cause and effect but the underlying issues are painted over with peace signs and slogans.
The dogmas are so entrenched and accepted that it seems any aspersion cast upon Republicans is true and means you hate the poor, favor the rich, etc. One of those bits of hyperbole would be that a person is greedy if they are a Young Republican. This is a common depiction and is accepted.
People have to stop piling on to people for sport or a good story. Many players still support him and the fans who returned their jerseys did so, because they can get a new one. Hopefully their is a commissioner’s dunce cap for falling prey to the pressures of hypocritical genuflecting idiots.
My blogs are relatively obscure because I go out of my way not to as popular with the wrong crowd. One individual said my lack of followers and comments invalidate my opinions! Really? That’s like throwing spaghetti against a wall, some will stick. Truth or Consequences?
Now let’s look at some things that go entirely not commented on. Look at any young lady/woman who makes it big and you get the eventual playboy cover. Many of them will be featured in a movie in short shorts or panties then are slain by some sociopath or horny alien. The same media that harps on treating women right, but do you EVER see them doing anymore than that? No, never! The best you get is still all about them. (The media).
Wait that guy hit a horse. I should protest protesting is cool.
And as far as younger females go, they are off-limits until they reach 18 (The Olsen Twins, Molly Cyrus) and just about legal team becomes fair game. The song Plush by Stone Temple Pilots depicts the sense of urgency to deflower purity and to scandalize, so is it any mystery that the message gets out and it is largely media of some sort that perpetuates virginity is some kind of weirdness that MUST be slain. The confusing scene of sexuality and violence seem to correlate into a seamless package of adolescent dynamite.
These same architects of depravity will deny any part of the malaise that helped to foment. Of course they could blame us or blame Ray Rice for his stupidity but you sure want to bury him and his career. The unintended consequence is family security but all of that is out the window now because liberal progressives are unrelenting and are mission first. The party of tolerance is anything but. The thing with Adrian Peterson is even more personal as his reputation will never recover! This is NOT about football, this is about cleaning your own attics and basements.
Some of the fervor does not match the rhetoric nor offers any solutions other than castrating all men and do away with all sports. Yeah that’s you. You have no suggestions outside scarlet letters and editorial denouncements. Editorials means ever having to say you are sorry, even though you might be. James Brown of the NFL. Do not condescend to me or other men. Those bad guys (gals) deserve redemption, even if you do not agree.
Outside of Christmas and perhaps Thanksgiving they help the needy but do they do this behind the scenes or with a microphone and a fake smile? No, because this is a playground where actors and media dress up like us and pretend to be us. Only, we know it is a ruse. Like an errant preacher, police officer or a teacher, they are all about chances. Chances they did not give to others! Their misfortune is not any sort of vindication sought, but that their perceived holiness is not assailed.
Janay’s life was miserable at times but how could I know that unless she said so? And those people who are falsely accused remember the gallows of judgment that is worn as white sheets endorsed by grand-standing politicians. A chief of police with dozens if keyed up rabble-rousers with hopes of becoming the next big thing.
Erstwhile Barbies with faces meant for Halloween and the sad slow march into an old folks home where the deer and the antelope roam, with visions of scrapbooks and compliments lost in favor of denizen of new generations. The pretty little womanlettes garnering the drools and slanders of a hungry set of ravenous coffee-stained dentures and a deer rack in your garage. This is the backdrop to the great witch-hunts. Only you you .
George W. Bush did not serve a fake turkey to troops but that Urban Myth was grudgingly admitted to. With the media they do it with roaming bands of rich, out of touch sociopaths with cameras and an agenda. Stop the hate!!!
I love that speech and admire the kind words about President George W. ush and if for no other reason, because we should respect the office and their decisions and stop trying to ruin each other. Because in the end, we all fall short and my attempt is to get people to stop being ruthless to each other. Diversity is gift. Trust me on that.
“I won’t insult your intelligence by suggesting that you really believe what you just said.”
― William F. Buckley Jr.
So now we have yet another controversy (Ray Rice) because men and women alike to ply controversy as along as it does not indict them or their perceptions about themselves. A trio of cases has made the news and those ready to capitalize on them, will. (Ray Rice, Adrian Peterson and Ferguson) But like any person who benefits from these kind of cases are not about solutions. These kinds want to feeled vindicated over something that has no relevance to their own lives.
They are just lazy haters with no plan. The longer this goes on the less time there is to judge their own missteps and that includes me. They have a belly full of self-righteous indignation and no one to blame. Except for the vulnerable who they CLAIM to care about.
Those who wish to bash Janay Rice taking her longer view of this situation, I want to slap! Sure Ray Rice has done the unthinkable and their indeed needs to be consequences. But the most strident critics are those with things to hide or some other agenda. Or you have the guys who like to present a virtual dialogue, accusing others of racism, sexism, misogyny or whatever their minds decide.
These decisions are born of haste, arrogance and the unfetter cacophony of a lynch mob. Like the Salem Witch-hunts come in various arrays, finding some niche in which a person can ruin another. It is that simple. People do because they can. Just like those dysfunctional sex bombs on Jerry Springer. What is most fascinating about that ‘trainwreck’ is how old flash me some boobs Springer is like a prurient slinky in Chinatown offering some sage advice to people who wantonly exploit each other.
Then are the raucous and indecorous sniggles at a woman objectifying herself by showing her boobs. This diminishingly embarrassing behavior in encouraged. Some of these very same people are cheering while teenagers are deemed sex offenders by showing their bodies to their friends and classmates who get an eyeful. So who made you God? You cannot even run your own life as the song so aptly put it. Now, you wish to destroy Rice, Peterson and Tiger Woods. I can bet my life that some of you have done worse.
You talk about helping women? You lie! Aside trying to ruin the lives of the guilty the world has not changed one bit. You are part of the problem as long as there is clamoring and no one is listening. How else can anything ever get better? Aside from the punitive actions and laws you offer no change in the patterns of abuse.
Hillary had one thing right, that is literally does take a village to make things like bullying, abuse and terrorism abate. Not even a plan just demands of justice. Taking on the victim like Ray’s wife and making it all about you! You are complicit in bringing more pain to the world. You have made the victim’s life harder whilst you munch on Doritos and beat your dog. Yeah, I know you did this!
or there is this!
Let’s take charge of our own and stop letting disinterested parties decide our fate and I mean us all. We all go around not trying to effect change as practically as we can and bomb aspirin factories and tell everyone else how nice we are. We are never as good or as bad as we want others to believe.
I have lied and have stolen things and have deceived and maybe they may or may not have been crimes but I do not go around giving everyone else a scarlet letter or accuse of them of being a witch, child molester or a serial cheater of some kind.
It’s like the show (movie) ‘Mean Girls’. A revealing look at the innate nature of us all and even those who we thought were incapable of such things.
I like ‘House’. Does that make me an abuser or a victim? Does calling a peaceful church goer affect you? And why do you think anyone owes YOU an apology? Everybody hurts some times.
It is hard enough to make it in this life without lighting another fire and while we may not have this particular tragedy over our heads we can assure others than there are those who really do care.
Floyd, Times Are Changin 