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What you believe
What you think
What you know
Unless you’ve happened
Along some great truth
You’d care to share
All you got
Is what you’ve
All profound truths
That pale in comparison
to thought, to knowledge
to action, to compassion
Truth from someone
who has never ventured
from their safety
from their warmth
from their family
yet in their world
They know the world
as it is.
As I get older, I relish what good health I have, knowing every day that I don't have some ache, some pain, is a dollar saved. Please, believe this old blue collar working class dude that's looking at retiring pretty quick here, I'm counting my pennies, and I don't wanna be spending what little I got on thirty dollar co pays, and in the case of tragedy, some drug that costs over a grand a day, specially a drug that used to be free. Like fuck, at the moment my daily baby aspirin, my multi vitamins, and my blood pressure meds are pretty cheap, but what if I woke up one morning and my co pay went from a couple of bucks to a hundred, a thousand. Yeah, I'd quite taking 'em, just like I did with Viagra when it went from thirty bucks to over five hundred, and yep, that's why I'm crabby all the time. Truth is, we can bitch and complain about it all we want, Bernie can write all the letters he wants, people will go broke trying to take one more breath, until they don't, and some fat ass greedy cat with a big cigar and bikinied blond will be laughing that fat ass off all the way to his bank. Just the way it is.
Denis Palamarchuck is hired by a legal Hemp company in Colorado to pick up a legally grown load of hemp in Oregon, to transport back to Colorado. The bill of lading is honest and upfront, listing hemp, all 6700 pounds of it, as it's cargo. Along the route, Denis follows the law, pulls into a weigh station, and his load inspected. No criminal intent, no one is doing anything wrong, but suddenly, a pair of handcuffs appear, and Denis finds himself arrested for the illegal transport of Marijuana. Why? Because in Idaho, hemp is still considered a lethal, mind numbing drug because it carries a trace of THC. You know, the ingredient in pot that gets you high, and tripled the sales of chocolate brownies. Poor Denis is facing five years in some scenic Idaho prison, and a minimum of a 15 thousand dollar fine, for transporting a farm crop. Now don't get me wrong, Idaho is a beautiful state, I was there once, and the people were nice, and I like their potatoes, but I don't think a truck driver should be arrested for hauling their damn potatoes outside of Idaho.
Put the young ones to bed, this is going to be an adult conversation, about sex. Not about the fun stuff, the act of physical sex, we have pictures for that. I wanna talk about what makes a man, a man, and a women, well, the better half of a man. Before we get to far along, there's a word I want you learn, 'gynandromorph'. Yes, it's true, God has made some of his creatures both a man, and a woman, at the same time, and we know it was done on purpose, because God don't fuck shit up. Now why would God do such a thing? We might never know the answer to that, cuz the big dude/dudette works in mysterious ways, but I'm guessing, one, that God loves the gynandromorphic Cardinal as much as he loves me, and second, maybe he did so as a lesson to all of us, that nature, and that includes all of us, is pretty damn diverse, and maybe, jus' maybe, we all oughta start appreciating the canvas God uses to paint on a bit more. As a third and final thought, God is probably a gynandromorph, which if disturbing to you, only means you failed the class.
Surfing this morning whilst eating bacon and eggs, I read that the Pope admitted that there was abuse, including sexual abuse, of boys. Well, I got ahead of the headline a bit, cuz the man in white wasn't talking about boys, he was talking about Nuns. Yep, that's right! Seems to be in addition to little boys, Priests like Nuns too, a lot. In fact, they like to make the good looking Nuns their personal sexual slaves. I'm not sure what's going on behind closed doors in the Catholic church, but I'm beginning to think there isn't much of anything going on that has anything to do with God, unless their daily orgasms really do get 'em closer to the big guy. BTW, as I'm reading this article, I noticed that a few clerics had been suspended, while an entire congregation of Nuns had been disbanded. Bad Nuns, I guess, or was it just bad meat.
When one thinks of butterflies, images of gentle softness come to mind, meadows with streaks of golden sun cutting swaths among colorful flowers, not god damn walls. Nothing quickens my heart, pisses me off anymore. I've seen it all, done it all, been to the moon and back, a couple of times, but this... This. This kinda gets my old motor roaring, I mean who would build a wall right through a peaceful butterfly conservatory. We're talking butterflies, the one insect that humans can call friends, the one insect that we identify with on a transformative, spiritual level. I don't know about you, but build the god damn wall around the southern border of their home, because if you don't, you're going to disrupt a godzillion caterpillars napping in their cocoons, and last time someone was stupid enough to do that, well, one word, Mothra!
On the blog
Before peace on earth, there was hell.
Strange, this work is over 25 years old, and looking back on it, I get why it never sold. But damn, I'm proud of it. Check out a sample, here.
With all the pieces laying around,
why is life so redundant?
God speaks to all, many hear, one acts.
There exists in every person the potential to do great harm and most people find that potential because it’s easier to find and execute than to find the potential to do good.
Keep the people fed with bread and they’ll catch you stealing them blind. Put a steak on their table, and they won’t care.
Social Commentary is an act of subterfuge that will destroy our civilization, but it just also happens to be a good thing.
State of Disarray
I'm not tuning in to watch Trump give his state of the Union speech tonight, because I gotta work, and I'm fine with that. Not that I don't care how our union is doing, I do, but my concerns with our country are a bit different than my Presidents. Where he thinks he's doing the right thing, as in blaming Democrats for the existence of pure evil in the world, I think he should be working with them, and his own party, to help me out a bit. But if I've learned anything, I've learned not to set my expectations too high, specially in my old age, cuz I've also learned that politicians can't climb that ladder. I've also arrived on the shores of conclusion that politicians won't and can't work together to bail water on a sinking ship, and the only bailing they're capable of is jumping off the boat, after they steal the last orange life jacket, and I feel a bit sorry for those who figured out Trump was lying when he said he was the best swimmer ever.
I've been feeling a bit off as of late. Just a weird, warped feeling, a bit of disassociation going on, and stumbling across the fact that our galaxy is warped, explains it. See, I like to commune with the universe, that means I stand naked on a country hill, staring at the night sky, beer in hand, joint in the other. The problem in communing with the universe is that after a bit, the universe starts to manifest in your physical and spiritual centers of well being. Doing a bit of investigating, turns out there's a heck of a lot of Galaxy's that are warped, which means the universe is warped, which follows then that we are all warped. Unfortunately, the universe doesn't generate equal push and pull on everyone, that means some people are warped a bit more than others. And some, a lot more.
I'm being straight with y'all, I don't watch much football these days. Yeah, I'll have a game on, but I'm listening, not actively watching, and participating, like I used to. Was a time, couple years back when my wife and I actively participated in the game, shouting, screaming, jumping for joy, or to be truthful, discovering the thrill that the agony of defeat bought into our lives. Christ, like most, we'd devote our entire Sundays to the oval ball of the foot. Then it became Saturday, and Thursdays, and along with Mondays, it all got to be... boring. We were seeing the same thing, day after day, bad coaching, bad calls, bad play calling bad tackling, bad commentary, bad actors after a TD. Football became passe, something that we both now only have a passing interest in. Know what, I don't miss it at all, but of course, I'm not talking about my Vikings, I watch the Vikings, because I still like self abuse.
God forbid, the political insanity of running for office in this Nation never stops. After the elections last November, I thought I'd get a rest from the bullshit, but that state of bliss never materialized, and here we are with the Iowa caucuses a short year away, and there's already a half dozen moderate to liberal to progressive candidates who have announced. At this point in time, I'm not going to be paying a lot of attention to any of 'em, I'll start when the debates start, because Hillary will announce the week before, pissing everybody off.
Strange week, indeed.
It's Friday, thank you!
I'm almost positive the 50 below temps froze, warped or bended reality in some shape or manner. I can't prove it, don't care to prove it, cuz I know it did. It was spring and green when I went to bed Sunday night. But it's over.. till next week.