Winding, Crooked Trails

Let me apologize

if I offended anyone with the harshness of my last sentence in the post below.  My intent was the collective "you".  Let's face it, we are all whiners at times, it's human nature to lament and to climb up on the woe is me bandwagon.  Yours truly as well.  But there are those events that come along that make us ashamed of the pettiness of our grievances and that realization is the only positive takeaway from horrific stories like this.

I'm not sure anything draws my ire any more than despicable people committing despicable acts upon those unable to defend themselves.  Actually I am sure.  Sometimes I lose faith in humanity and need reminders that there is good out there willing to combat evil.  

Every once in awhile....

I revert to stone cold trained killer hard hearted redneck who doesn't see why I can't take the law into my own hands.  It seems like every stinking fucking day there is a story of a child killed or abused or molested at the hands of someone who is supposed to be nurturing them, caring for them, looking out for them, let alone loving them.  

 

They are all stories of immense sadness.  But this one?  Just pulls my heart to the floor.  There is a feeling that a man who doesn't cry gets back behind his eyes that surprises him because it overwhelms the control of himself he nearly always has.  

This face.

I hate that almost every reference to this little sweetheart in the media is followed by, comma, "who lost her leg and most of her hearing to bone cancer".  Yes it makes the story worse, more dramatic, sadder, of course it does.  But it bothers me that it's her identifier.  She deserves more than that.  She always deserved more than she got.  She wasn't the only little kid with cancer or a serious illness and a sad story, far from it.  And I don't know exactly why this one has grabbed me like it has, over the children drowned in bathtubs, thrown off bridges into rivers, had their throats slit or heads blown off with shotguns.

Yes I do.  It's that face, god dammit.

That feeling right there, back behind your eyes. 

That someone evil belittled her and imprisoned her and beat her time after time, someone who was supposed to mother her and take care of her, and that someone of her own blood stood by and by definition of not prohibiting it allowed it to happen is just as wrong as anything in the world can be wrong.

Innocent until proven guilty?  Fuck that. Pull no punches here, it appears she was killed and put through a wood chipper.  It needs to hurt badly to read that.  It needs to be shocking and horrible beyond horrible.

And the quotes from person after person who are NOW speaking out about how she was abused and beaten, fuck every one of you.  You can all eat shit and die as far as my redneck ass is concerned.  You are GUILTY.

And whatever sorry ass do gooder agency who doesn't seem to do anybody any good ever who investigated the situation at one time and just filled out your blah blah form and went home, fuck you and every other worthless piece of shit child "protection" bureaucrat out there everywhere with apologies to the 10 or 15 people in those positions who "really" care.

Her name is Zahra Baker and in every photo you see of her she is smiling like this.  

You deserved so much better. 

And if I could deal with all those who need to be dealt with, those who didn't come anywhere near giving you what you deserved; I so would, I swear I would, without batting an eye.

I know how to treat princesses and Zahra I swear I would have made you one in a heartbeat if only given the chance.

And if you don't smile at least once today in spite of your own pity party problems, fuck you too for just not getting it.

 

 

 

Segue into the afterlife

West Yorkshire police reported that James Heseldon, 62, the owner of the Segway company accidentally steered his Segway off a 30-foot cliff and into a river while riding on his estate 140 miles north of London.  The exact cause of death has not yet been determined according to police.

This story just kills me, seriously, what are the chances the owner of the company that makes those goofy two wheeled vehicles(?) would die pitching one over a cliff? Perfect.  The cause of death has yet to be determined?  Pardon me, he drove off a fucking cliff.....into a river!  I suppose he could have either broken his neck or drowned or both but whatever, it was death by Segway.  

I don't like those things for some reason.  I always think the rider looks silly and I can't see one and not think mall cop.  Certainly not intimidating.  We have airport police in Indy cruising around harassing the driver of any vehicle that stops for longer than 10 seconds to load or unload passengers.  They wear helmets, and apparently rightfully so even though the drop offs at the airport are only curb height.  One never knows, you blow a tire at 12 mph on a segway and the results could be catastrophic.

On another note, with apologies to those of you whom are faith based, I find the older I get the more I hate religion in any form, organized, unorganized, cultish, brutish, you name it, I hate it.  I believe that a significant amount of the evil and greed and corruption and prejudice in the world's history can be attributed to the various religions who have made every attempt to instill their will and beliefs on others, thinking that if only the heathens could be shown the light they would be fine with us slaughtering them and taking their homelands or conquering them in the name of the god de-jour.  

Other than priests who fuck alter boys, I don't think there is anything religious that I hate more than so called mega churches and their widespread TV ministries.  This bishop eddie lo.ng asswipe, for example, is worth millions of dollars and drives bentleys and a collection of other extravagant vehicles and lives in a mansion and sucks the financial soul out of thousands of middle class black americans who are foolish enough to buy into his con and give him rock star status.  Problem is, while he has been preaching his diatribe of anti-gay bashing rhetoric and homophobic promotions he has been fucking the sons of his flock of sheep.  Does this fuck wad think he's a priest or something?  Pastor or preacher is not good enough for eddie, nope, he's got to be a bishop because he has all sorts of prominent people in politics and world wide leaders conned to say nothing of his 25,000 lemmings.  Lemmings who write checks. 

I know, innocent until proven guilty.  I'm sorry but this evil bastard is guilty as the sequins in his robes are shiny.  I can't wait to see him taken down and I hope the humiliation is thorough and brutal and hopefully he may even consider his fall from grace and riches and power to be so devastating that he does the honorable thing for once and drives his segway off a cliff.  Into a river.

When you look around and you see every day the constant reminders of greed and corruption and the evil lengths that people are willing to go, it's difficult to have faith and belief that they are guided by some higher benevolent power.  And don't tell me it's just the godless, lost and wayward pagan souls, cause it ain't, it's everywhere and it's just a damn shame I tell ya.

I do like the trend of homicidal maniacs who shoot up their family, schools, or the workplace sparing us the cost and time of a trial and their ultimate release from prison after a couple of years by eating their guns as a finale to their evil deeds. Again, thanks wackos, let's hope others follow by example  

Makes me wonder why your every day killer almost never does this.  I think of you just slip up and blow away one person you aren't so guilt ridden that you feel compelled to do yourself in.  Taking your chances in a court of law affords a much greater opportunity for rehabilitation and early release than does suicide.

Capital punishment really baffles me.  I have mixed feelings on the subject, it's like abortion, I can find valid points in either side's arguments, but.....

You knew there was going to be a but, yeah?  A couple of weeks ago in Georgia this dude was scheduled to be executed and he got hold of a razor blade and slashed himself with enough efficiency that it took emergency procedures to save his life.

Huh?

He was killed by lethal injection earlier this week after a stint on suicide watch.

In California executions are being delayed due to the expiration of one of the drugs used to "humanely" bring the executee's life to an end.  Apparently the drug is also in short supply. Excuse me, lethal drugs have a shelf life?  What's the worst that could happen?  

Again, huh?  

I think a jolt from a strong dose of some high grade heroin, that must exist in vast quantities in police property rooms all across California, would be as humane a way to go out as any.  Reminds me of the phrase, "buzz off".  And it would be free and from what I read California is broker than broke so there ya go.  

Again, sorry if I have offended those of you whose faith is an important part of your life and the one after.  The opinions of the writer here are often at odds with the mainstream of society.  I just happen to be a Frisbietarian and believe your soul goes up on the roof when you pass and you can't get it down.  It works for me plus I don't have to get dressed up on Sundays.

Disclaimer:  I'm really not the redneck that rears his ugly head so often here, it's just that I like people less and less as time goes by and as my time to enjoy all the wonderful things life has to offer is somewhat limited I JUST DON'T HAVE THE FUCKING PATIENCE AND TOLERANCE I ONCE DID.

My wife has me in sensitivity training though and she is optimistic for my near total recovery, or at least enough to be released back into society.

I feel better now.

 

    

 

I see Texas in black and white

 Like I'm watching 

The Last Picture Show

 

 

Flatlines

As you may have heard, we are sorry to share that Bloglines will officially shut down on October 1, 2010. 
More detail can be found on the Ask.com blog - http://blog.ask.com.
We want to make it as easy as possible to transport your feeds to another RSS aggregator, so below are some simple instructions:

I can't say I was particularly surprised to see the above notice recently when I did my daily check of Bloglines, particularly given that so very little "boldness" exists on my feeds anymore.  What was at one time so many new posts to be read that one didn't really know where to start has over the past year or two become very spare at best.

While I have purged many feeds over the years I still have a good number remaining, even though two thirds of them at least have remained "boldless" for many a moon.

Oddly enough, the most prolific posters of late have been the sex bloggers.  These folks embrace HNT like it was just invented.  It's a sad statement to admit I guess that the great majority of blogs that I visit are the aforementioned.  I read them even though my wife and I often snicker and make fun, or even more likely, ridicule the content maybe because it's a way of hanging on to something that was at one time as much a part of my day as morning coffee.  There are in fact two or three of you, OK one, who post with any degree of regularity.  The rest, including me?  Nope.

I suppose there are many reasons for the rise and fall.  Good old honest (right) social networking mostly perhaps.  I mean, how can a half a billion people be wrong?  For me, as I've said before and I won't beat a dead hatching egg, a tweet or a status update is quite boring when compared to the secrets and the innermost confessions and desires and expressions we used to exchange daily.  Maybe it's appropriate or predictable that the sex bloggers are left to carry on the tradition since that aspect of our lives played such a large part in our exchanges and musings and ramblings not only in the beginning but throughout the couple of years we were prolific. 

It's funny, but I know more about many of your sexual selves and lives than I do just about anyone else in my life.  I've seen many of you naked or close to it, far more than anyone in my life now. (no one else honey)

I found so much here.  I found my wife here and for that it was and will remain one of the most important phases of my life.  I/we are coming to the end of a long and fascinating, unlikely, and most unbelievable journey and as this final direction my life is taking is upon me I suppose it's only  reflective of life's transitions from life zone to life zone that such an important part of my past has been dying a not so slow death and is on life support.  It was fun, enlightening, dramatic, hot and arousing, illuminating, inspiring and maybe most of all it was a place to learn acceptance and empathy and that there are so many others that experience and feel and live and want and need those things with which we felt so all alone.  

RIP Bloglines.  Even if I knew what the fuck an RSS aggregator was I don't want one.

My memories will always be filled with your days of boldness.

  

Ranting some cause I haven't in a while

"Bristol Palin hasn't lost hope that she'll find love and a man to be a father for Tripp".  (has to be at the topp of the list for stupid white kid names).

"I have faith that I'll find it," she told People. "Through this whole experience I know I need a man who's going to be completely honest with me and someone who loves me and Tripp and wants to be with him all the time. I also want someone who has religious beliefs and a good family."

There are women who sadly contribute to the continued asshole-ness of men by their mere existence.  This chick is one of them.  You weren't really out looking for someone so shallow and stupid that you could pull all kinds of polar bear wool over her eyes but this is one you just can't resist.  Especially when you know you can totally fuck her over and still work your way back in.  Good luck on finding that one moron in the world who will take you on and want to be with the trippster "all the time".  Who wouldn't want to be involved in the palin train wreck seein' that you could have our own reality show and all.   Amazingly her mental midget mother could very well end up with her finger on the nuclear button.  How's that for a potential mother in law?  Wonder if the russians would be interested in buying alaska back?  The apocalypse is just around the bend.

Bristol and Lindsay in a lesbian relationship, now there's a show I'd watch just for the sex and the family reunions.

Do you find yourself feeling the urge to face the east and tell countries ending in istan to just go fuck themselves?  I'm sorry, there are people much closer and much more deserving who I would much rather see billions of dollars go to.  Yemen, who the fuck is yemen and why are they getting all that money?  Never mind, I know the answer to that question.  

Where are all those people who sang and cried tears of exultant joy and chanted about a new world and new beginning on inauguration day?  How can two presidents who are so very different in so many ways be some much alike in others?  Bombs away, I guess a gun isn't worth much if you can't shoot it at someone.  Most of the country is pissed off about something or another, or many somethings and I just wonder how bad could it be if someone no matter what color they were or what party they sucked off would just call a press conference and say ENOUGH of this bullshit, I'm immediately bringing all boys and girls home and we'll put some of them in the east and some in the west and the rest north and south and if any fucking trouble even starts to rear its' ugly head we will deal with it right then and there and the rest of you outside of this line can do whatever it is that you do and do it all on your own and you can take your precious crude and shove it anywhere you want because we will figure something out like we always do when up against the wall.  

How many more people would be pissed off than are now?  I bet some moms and dads and wives and sisters and brothers would be much happier leaning their young men and women would come home all smiling and shit rather than rotting in a box.  

If this post hasn't pissed someone off I need to try harder and be even more outlandish which I am more than capable of I assure you.  Ask my wife.

Just sayin'.

  

Ketchup

This has been the view out my window every morning (except for about every other weekend) for the past five months.  Not bad for business accommodations.  There is a pool right below my balcony, a restaurant, a very friendly bar, and front desk folk who take good care of me.  They do my laundry for five bucks a bag, which of course the company pays for, as they do all my meals, gasoline, car rental, and transportation to and from wherever I am calling home on any given weekend.  

The months before being here I spent in Cincinnati, Ohio, traveling to either Indy or Toronto on weekends. It's considerably more complicated to get to either place from here being well over a thousand miles away so I stay here in south Florida something like every other weekend.

Eight months ago I was sneaking in and out of Canada as they were on to me and I faced interrogation at the border constantly.  Money was to tight to mention (great song by the way).  Then the job.

And it couldn't have come at a better time.  We were about to be married and we had reversed our decision on immigration and beginning the process to head stateside.  What a fricking process it has turned out to be.  The immigration process itself coupled with all the other legal ramifications we've had to sort through have cost us thousands.  If my wife were a Pakistan trained terrorist it wouldn't be any more difficult for her to immigrate to the states.  No wonder so many people just sneak in.  It would be nearly impossible to negotiate one's way through the bureaucracy and the dozens of documents and forms and requirements for physicals and police checks and interviews and proving that your marriage isn't a sham without some legal assistance.  Frustrating I tell you.

So anyway, what a long strange trip it's been.  A year and a half ago I "retired", leased my home,  and "moved" to Toronto.  The same month I got the job my tenant broke the lease and the house payment once again became my responsibility.  Lucky timing.  We decided not to rent so that we would have somewhere to go when we moved to Indy.  I spent my weekends in Indy at my daughter's home.  Lots of my stuff was there as well, lots more was in storage, and the rest have been moved to Canada.  Last month I "moved" back into the house after it sitting empty for six months.  I can't even remember why I didn't move back in earlier, it's just been so complicated and I was only in Indy once a month anyway so there you go.

It feels wonderful to be back there.  Only about a third of my stuff is there now but there is enough to call it home again.  No internet or TV yet but that has been barely noticeable on the three weekends I've stayed there.  Petra loves it there and is excited about calling it her home as well and she grows more impatient by the day, we both do but I've got to be all stoic and shit you know.  It's been very difficult, harder than before, to go back to a long distance relationship.  Being together for nearly a year (counting my six week heart attack recovery almost two years ago, wow, that doesn't seem possible) spoiled us.

So yes, life is and has been very complicated, busy and intense.  On top of the heart attack, the retirement, the move(s), the new job, the thousands of miles of travel, the immigration hassles, on top of all that, there was the marriage and honeymoon and the acquisition of two step kids.  I can keep plates spinning with the best of them.  My life has rarely been without ever changing dynamics so I've had lots of practice.

That pretty much catches things up for those of you who still come around.  I know there aren't many but I do very much appreciate and notice those of you have loyally stayed the course for all these years.  The end of this month marks my six anniversary at WCT.  Hard to believe.  A couple of you are among the very first people I met on here.  My heart will always belong to blogging, it got me to where I am today and I absolutely hate twitter and I am so not the facebook type.  Me and hatching eggs, hard to picture ain't it. 

Besides, most of the people from my past are either dead or in jail. 

Some of my best ole blog buddies have revived HNT.  Cool!  I really miss blog nudity, half or partial or not. I'm a touch tempted myself, not that I ever was much of a showoff. 

 

 

 

 

 
 
 

 

Kings and Queens

I didn't find the place, the little retro diner with the checkered tile floor, chrome legged chairs and red cracked vinyl banquettes, until I had been down here a couple of months.  I've been drawn back several times since.  Getting my credit card swiped and lunch card stamped by Betty, who is looking back at eighty. Betty doesn't miss a day and her day starts at 6:00 AM when the breakfast crowd starts trickling in.   Tenth one is free, up to a five dollar value, seriously.  Actually I only have to put a couple of bucks on top of the five to have a nice lunch at the Flashback Diner.  There is a large scale electric train that loops it's way around rails up near the ceiling of the place, above framed photos of 40's and 50's icons, entertainers, sports figures, Marilyn, Betty Boop, Dimaggio, the King, license plates from every state, old toys from before plastic was invented.  It's not a nouveau chain pretending to be old with a bulk purchase of old farm implements to hang on the walls, it's old for sure and one of a kind.  

I've been for all three meals, the food is comforting and plentiful and they don't count calories or post grams of fat at the Flashback.  For lunch or dinner sitting at one of the booths for two, who has booths for two?  But my favorite is breakfast when I sit back at the counter with the red twirly stools just in front of the kitchen window where a couple hundred cook to order breakfasts pass through on a weekend morning. Waitresses at the Flashback are named Dottie and Carla and ,really, Alice.  I have a full cup of coffee seconds after taking my front row seat and there must be fifty different breakfasts listed on the plastic covered menu with limitless possible combinations for your eggs, bacon, ham, sausage links or patties, grits, pancakes, fried potatoes that most order well done so they crunch.  And some how two cooks cover the grill juggling over easy and sunny side up and well done or floppy bacon, multitasking to the extreme, and the plates pass through in a steady stream with shout outs to Dottie and Carla and Alice who carry plates stacked up their arms, both arms, out to the old folk who were here last Sunday and the Sunday before and the good lord willing will be here next Sunday.  I'm a youngster at the Flashback, and always honey or sweetie and I never feel objectified or sexually harassed. 

Chick is a widower and always takes the end stool, closest to the back door which only he uses.  Chick gets kissed, not just cheek pecked but full on lip kissed by just about every female employee in the joint.  Alice isn't old which at the Flashback means she isn't on social security and can get to her car in the parking lot in less than 15 minutes and without help.  Alice is pretty and she knows Chick lost his wife of 56 years two years ago and she kisses him special and jokes about slipping him some tongue.  Chick orders his english muffin "dry", he prefers to butter it himself and jokes about the head on his tall glass of milk.  The plates keep coming through the window and keep being rushed out to the dining room.  The girls have red creases on their lower arms from their circus balancing acts in getting the goods to the dining room.  The banter never stops.  

Chick doesn't do much at the retirement community where he lived with his wife and watched the wicked disease eat her into the grave.  His kids check in but they are busy up north you know and his grand kids have kids now so he has lots of pictures and struggles to keep the names straight.  He used to golf almost every day but that was in the happier days, now he doesn't get out on the course much, probably not at all this summer, in this stifling, suffocating heat.  

Alice's skin is smooth and her eyes sparkle around the deep lines at the corners and she is still a looker, just not looked at so much.  Her life is easier now that it's lonelier.  She chose alone when together started hurting so much and has never looked back.  Chick will never get over losing his together and isn't even working that hard at living rather than living his life out.  He sleeps and wakes with grief and it keeps him company all day.

The Flashback is timeless but for the computers in the corners sending orders to the kitchen and keeping score of the specials and special orders but other than that you could pick your decade and be in it.

I felt it the first time I was there and watched the greetings and the small talk barked across the room, it's a place where those who are looked over and dismissed with their slow paces and physical failings, a place where they are still who they always were, where they are accepted for that, a place they are recognized and remembered.  A place where the diners are nourished by more than any super slam breakfast. 

A place where Chick is still a king and Alice is still a queen.

Beauty through my Eyes