Don't Work Too Hard, Señor

 At my job, where I do what illegals undocumented guests of our compassionate nation rarely are willing to do, the lady who could be called my boss was concerned I might work too hard.   The prospect that I could become "overheated" seemed to be a scenario she was dreading.

I guess the others told her what it was like when I had the attack of madness a week or two ago.  But I have been so excited that the usual issues have gone dormant that I do extra things just because I can.  I promised the thin air that if I'm really getting better then I'll be good from now on.  That is easy because I always be good. Soy un buenito dos zapatos---I'm a goody two shoes, if I ever saw one.

Something is up still, but I'm thinking it will all fade away and I will expect an official announcement celebrating the miracle.  I'd like to assume the post of saint, with all the rights and privileges the office commands.  I'm guessing a nice little pension-- nothing pretentious but enough to get by.  Maybe a little saint's cottage somewhere in the country, and whatnot.

We'll work out details later.  First we have to go through the tedium of healing, then days of being humble yet vocal for PR purposes, and finally, I'll hire Jay Carney--I need someone who can say anything in any context, and no matter what it is, do it with a straight face and sincere demeanor.

It is weird to feel such of the same stuff that preceded or was present during an attack to still be wandering around inside, yet no itch burn insane discomfort.

One day this cabin will be the talk of a tourist tour.  "Here is where the miracle began..."

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Can I Be Canonized?

Probably not.   I'm not Catholic, but it is a miracle that I've had at least 4 days in a row with no attacks.  I've even been able to do the regular work plus help a friend redo the outside of part of his house; cement, lath, this and that.  I was able to get hot enough to sweat without going into big trouble.  That hasn't happened in months.

It may be a giant miracle and the whole crazy episode, which was not much fun, will fade into oblivion and peace.  I've already bargained: "If this is cured and I never have to deal with it, I'll be good for the rest of my life."

Good my be a subjective term, but I think I've shown plenty of patience and good will, so maybe any deities in the vicinity will see what a great deal it is and fix me up without further delay.

It was fun playing Friday.  I did what I could so I'd have no trouble playing.  It wasn't overly easy.  I did enjoy it and so I guess that's something.

Practice Makes Practice

So, even though Cliff and the sit in for the gig bass player felt another practice would be inconvenient, K, L, and I went over harmonies, and several songs.  Best time I've had in many days, and we sounded pretty damned good, if you ask me.  Which you did not but you should have.

This is becoming interesting.  No one in a group enjoys feeling that other members of that group, even if it is just for one gig, either aren't interested or think they are too good for the ensemble.  I know what is what, and I am quite confident that none of the disinterested are too good.  Maybe just off in other directions. I always think that, it seems.  But there is a synergy here that is pure heaven when it works.

It doesn't always work but we do our best.  We did tonight anyway.  I think we'll be much more confident Friday.  No telling how that will work with the others.  This is why so any people just play alone.  Always someone or their manipulative significant other throwing a wrench in the works.

My thing will be getting through in one piece. This madness also hits me with waves of shortness of breath, so I'll be faking it, phoning it in, and employing every trick I learned to use in practice when that happened.  

Oh well.  Wrong week to quit sniffing glue, or something like that.  It would be way worse if I still smoked.  I'm so amazed that I am still not smoking.  I can't even begin to imagine the trouble if I were drinking.  Some are just not made for that.  I'm one of those.  But cigarettes don't render you senseless all at once so they are tricky, and highly, ultra addictive.  But no smokes still.  I think my teeth are whiter and that the physical trouble is not a direct result of quitting.  The timing is coincidental, not a result of stopping the cigarette habit. again.  

There were hints of this last fall and even before. But only hints, not full blown trouble I couldn't ignore.  The difference between one of those little bicycle bells and a full on deafening commercial fire alarm.

Life, she does not change the rhythm until you learn to dance
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Maybe Friday Will Be OK

7PM should be a cooler time of day,and that ought to help.  If I a nice to everyone, including children an animals, and think only pure and holy thoughts, perhaps I not be plagued mid-set.  I'm almost certain that most people think I am crazy and just make this up.  Maybe so.  Or maybe there is an internal discrepancy which is not going away.

We have much more material than we need, so some things are being cut out.  I'm a little disappointed that Cliff and the guy sitting in on bass seem to be not too enthused.  Or something.  Maybe because K and L don't do that circuit they hit five times a week or more.  I hit that circuit once or twice  week, I guess, but I'm fading out of it.

I guess it doesn't matter.  I have to hold back and try my best not to sweat or let my body think it is heating up.  Once it starts it becomes an internal blast furnace, thinking it is under attack, releasing what knows what, driving me to the brink.   I have to figure a way for a rapid exit if need be.  I can pretty much phone in the harp parts and no one but me knows the difference.  But an hour.  Outside, but maybe in shade.

Next week  guess I'll call medicland and see what is next.

I can't believe HarpDepot.com absorbed coast2coastmusic.com.  Coast was my favorite source of microphones and harmonicas, although I've dealt with both over the last ten years or so.  It isn't quite as good now, but they are still good people.

Bummer. My low D harp is unlikely to make it by friday.  Life. She is.  It is the problem of expectations that make one think life is tough.  Life is reality, and some of the constructs place there by Atilla, FDR, and numerous kings and self-styled holy men, not to mention TMZ and facebook, have queered the deal fro time to time.

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Wrong twice

I seem to have read the result of the blood test incorrectly. What I thought was low is normal.  And before I thought it was low, I thought it was high.  I have no explanation.  It is what is inside those cells that is screwed up.  And something to do with the size consistency.  But other cells are high, and blablabla.

The meaning of all of it and the cure elude me.  Why the attack and reaction I experience are tied to funky blood tests, I do not know.  Probably just a courtesy of some kind.  Maybe a signal that was worked out without my knowledge.  "If your internal factories go on strike or the quality control dept. goes on strike, we'll torture the hell out of you at the most inconvenient times."  Thanks.  What a bargain.

So, I was wrong twice.  Quantity normal, quality not so good.  And you have tons of the white ones, and plenty of some other items.

This is completely running my life.  I hope it won't get in the way of our winery gig this friday.  I'll use my best strategy for keeping things going right.  It's just that this seems somewhat progressive so I have to adapt strategy accordingly.

I'm angry, and at a number of things not clearly stated here, but related, in a way.  I wish I hadn't let them all get away.  At the same time who wants anyone who cannot get past my"it" that, apparently, people have to get past if they are to see any value here?    Screw it and screw them and screw the cowgirl who's likely going to end up with the wine guy and likes to drink too much anyway.

I know.  Childish.  Not spiritual, etc.  Maybe.  I'm temporarily angry at myself and I blame myself for falling apart alone.  Inside, even knowing it is nuts, I think if I were a better human being I would not be experiencing this physical problem.  Everyone has their things.  Some are fatal, some annoying or heartbreaking or trivial.  I think my woes are trivially fatal.  And annoying because I know I'm angry

What a Joke that is on Me. Oh, you meant low, not high

OK.  When the Dr's first language is not Inglés,  misunderstandings can ensue.   A certain item on the lab tests that he claimed was high over the phone, is actually low.

All the stuff was mailed to me, as promised, with the highs and lows and other abnormalities circled in red.  Now it all makes sense.  I'm sure I can fix this now.  Why it results in crazy itch and burn, I do not know, but it is not important.  I am sure I know why I've fared better over the last few days.

This is really great news.  I'll bet that by the time new tests are supposed to be done, I'll have corrected almost all the trouble.  If not, then not.  I'm almost sure I'll be back in the water without consequence before the end of summer.  It will be nice to quit the madness and improve the energy.

Then I'll deal with the depressive sadness that is once again trying to freeze me in my tracks.  No time for that while I consciously launch my plan of attack on the stupid malady causing trouble.  I have faith in my trouble shooting abilities, and I am pretty sure I have it nailed down.

I prefer not to go into detail here, but I'll record it here when the experiment yields the good result that I expect.

They Let White Doves Go

Saturday was a celebration of life for the wife of Tim the owner of the winery up here on Ballistic Mountain.  Breast cancer did it's thing and eventually took her out at maybe 50 years old, if that.  She was a horse person and animal lover.  Lots of rescue dogs, rescue donkeys, and who knows what.  They bred horses up there before they got into the wine business.

The number of people there for the celebration of her life was probably about 150.  She made quite an impression.

At one point they let a bunch of white birds out, which symbolized something I forget.  Then they let one bird go which symbolized her spirt moving on.   The first group circled, as was expected.

I think the birds were actually homing pigeons.  A guy up here owns them.  They circle to get their bearings.  I don't think they are covered with white paint or white-out.  They really are white.  What I don't know about doves and pigeons is a lot, except they look somewhat similar.

It is impressive when people have that much impact on others, and build cool lives with evidence to show for it

Selfishly making it about me, I cannot forget what my sibling said last Christmas.   I wish I could because depression and despair are a huge waste of time and don't do much good for anyone.   I think I just never got on the train.  And when another came, I still never committed to the ride.  I'm not sure what to do about that.

 I did like watching those birds fly away

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Maybe All Is Fixing Itself

It seems like I've been able to get away with more than usual the past couple of days.  Actually getting work done.  I attribute this to juice which contains everything from kale and broccoli to cabbage and lemon.  Wild and crazy green juice with apples and carrots thrown in so it doesn't taste like liquid alfalfa and avocado leaves.  Don't think I'm unfamiliar with avocado leaves.   Also, I can confidently tell you that they are not very good to smoke.  I attempted to construct an avocado leaf cigar as a yoot.

not an avocado tree. this is a purple flowers tree of some kind

I'm pretty sure that between the super juices--I included some store bought stuff for a couple of days--and my efforts to avoid ill winds in my mind which blow no good, and my belief that I could have imagined all the troubles I thought I experienced, I am probably getting better every day.  It is amazing, but a process.  What if it works?  I will bet that it does.

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The Coppercreek group up here on Ballistic Mountain is one of the groups playing a sold out 3 day event at the Rock Canyon winery, also on Ballistic Mountain.  It is about 1 3/4 miles or so further south on a very crude dirt road.  All the roads here are dirt, of course, but the further you go, the narrower and more primitive.  Some delivery drivers won't attempt it in their delivery trucks.  Others seem to like the challenge, and the place.

The event is tied to a local radio station somehow.  People will be camping out and everything.  I think they pay $30 to attend.  Not sure how many is a sellout.  Probably a couple hundred.

We play at 7PM on day 1.  My friends Mocking Bird have 2 in the afternoon that day.  Can't believe we scored a little better.  Oh yea, I'm the harp player for Coppercreek and we're doing 2 songs I wrote. I do most of the singing on the one I like best--The Tropics song.  But others sing on the chorus.   Cliff sings Mr Sleazy.  That one's kind of funny but has a lot of harmonica antics.   We may do the instrumental, Fly Away, which is also mine; a take off on my All I Ever song, just doing instrumental.

Coppercreek is really a vocally oriented group, with some nice harmonies.  I like that because I get to participate in the singing, and just fill some background and accents instrumentally.    I'm not so great at singing, but I like it, and I'm pretty much on key.  I can carry a tune, and I know when I'm messing up.

This will be an interesting event.  I will probably head home about the time I sense the drunks getting obnoxious.  Some people can drink pleasantly, and some cannot.  The latter group would serve themselves and humanity better if they just avoided drinking altogether.

I'm sure there will be a ton of musicians I know, and I hope some other groups ask me to sit in.  I rate the odds at 50/50.

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Got the inside scoop on matters at work.  I now see what's up.  Is there ever a company which is free of skullduggery?  Anyway, I'm somewhat removed from all that, but it will affect me come August or September.  We'll see what's what at that time.  For now, all is OK.

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When You Have the Raddest Ride In The World

Well, I have no solid explanation for this--other than:

Maybe it is possible that the big O lived up to his moniker.   Jani Birddog may be a little bummed now that her errant son is back in US hands.  That blows the cover of the "secret negotiations" in which she and her ever generous spouse, Bob, were privy.  

Clearly, however this went down, Jani is enamored with the big O and shows signs of enjoying the experience more than Bob or the big O, himself.  Glad Michele's reaction wasn't recorded.  You think the flirtatious selfies with the Danish chick at Mandela's memorial made her blood boil.  I'd say this Jani Birddog affair could result in actual physical attack.  Bob's a bit ashamed at how he allowed this.  he wasn't supposed to like it.  He just wanted Bowe Birddog back stateside.

Old guys tend to see Jani as kind of hot.  I think it's Air Force One that did the trick.  That ride is a wel-known babe magnet.  Geez, look at her.  She appears to have just concluded a tryst moments before the photo was taken, and I'd say that come hither, Mr. President, look indicates she's ready to do it again.

Don't be mad at me.  I just point out what I see.  No wonder Bob went so far off the deep end.  He cares about his son, and is trying to deny the fact that Jani seems more concerned with the big O, however you choose to slice it.

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Still Changed

Although I do feel like I've changed in some way, I'm not done with whatever is amiss physically.  That's OK.  I feel optimistic.  No reason, I just think it will work out well enough.  I don't really doubt what I think is up.  Probably it is the kick in the ass that I need.  I wonder if being a better everything would have prevented this turn of the screw.

Whatever.  You would not believe the way some people and their kids relish the chances to show no respect for property or people, and to avoid practicing normal courtesy on any level.

I'm talking about hotshot people, who are pals with some of the most connected and politicially powerful people in the world.  If you are one who actually believes the jackass party is "fighting for the little guy", you are so naive, misguided, or stupid that there may be no hope.  I don't know which; I'll assume naive to give benefit of doubt.  For one thing, if you can't sense the elitism and arrogance in that statement, "I'm fighting for the common people", or words to that effect,  then you must be one who assumes you are above the common riffraff you claim to champion.

(Not to say some of the things from the other mainstream party haven't left me dumbfounded and speechless lately.  If I didn't know better, I'd think some of the jackasses were dressing up in pachyderm suits, spouting weirdness, just to make them look bad.  Seriously, gimme a break)

Believe me, some of the most vocal champions of the poor and downtrodden are some of the most overtly, and subtly, abusive, disrespectful people around.  It is just the way it is.  But, then, I often get ten hours in when I'd normally would have five, just because of thoughtless disrespect of property, and an inability to reason rather than just break things.

Fortunately much of that wreckage occurs indoors so I can fix it in air conditioned comfort, avoiding the dreaded rise in core body temp. resulting in the subsequent killer sweats.  Win-win.  Money and environment.

I think my music playing must have changed.   Actually, I know some of it changed.  I should be playing guitar but I'm not doing it yet.  Maybe someone will put up a half decent or interesting video.  I know plenty has been taken.

Often I need the outlet that playing music provides.  A few minutes of thinking of nothing, but being able to spew emotion through a little harmonica, and get away with it.  Or just get lost floating in the background while others do whatever it is they do.

For various reasons it appears all will change by September.  Long story.  Much with the job will change and that may mean I'm out of there.  Not a matter of blame or victimization or any of that.  Just the nature of some personnel changes I think are coming which are tied in with denizens of the head office.

These are times to think and plan and get some bases covered and out of the way to avoid inconvenience to myself or others down the road.

Must Be a Miracle

The last day and a half has been entirely free of the itch and burn syndrome.  My face doesn't feel the way it would if I were doing a handstand or hanging upside down. I don't know when I've gone ths length of time without trouble.  I was able to get in some physical activity-mostly in the form of playing music with friends and strangers.

I went to a place last night which was the perfect set up.  Mostly people I don't know, but some players early on who do know me and asked me to sit in.  A guy who does recording and production, and also is a good performer wanted my info as a reference for when he needs harp on recording.  The are hundreds of other harp players around but most people claim I'm different.  That seems to be working out.

So I am glad I dared to go down there last night.  Most days I've been too prone to attacks with just very minor activity.   I think it is because I vowed to myself to keep my balance on the positive side from now on.   Even when the sadness is overtaking me, which it likes to do.

G sent me a message that he and another guy were heading to the ranch to play this afternoon, so I took the chance and met them there.  I forgot that Coppercreek group from here on the mountain was going to the Moose Club jam this evening.   Word reached me via smarty phone, so I left the ranch about 7:30 and headed out there.

When I arrived, other people were playing who wanted me to play.  Then our group played with some others sitting in.  I may be wrong but I thought we sounded pretty good.  I cannot remember the last time I felt this good and able to be active without heavy consequences.  The bloated stomach, breathing weirdness, itch burn, all of it has remained at bay all day.  I still feel a little something luring under the surface but this is nothing like recent days.

Many people think it is foolishness and bunk, but too bad.  I like science and have a knack for it, or used to when  tried.  But I'll take miracles any time I can get one.  And who cares what people think?  What if this means cell counts and abnormalities are balancing out and giving up the strangeness?    If that happened, the next tests will come back unremarkable, and this era will be a thing of the past.

Whatever is bringing this feeling of improvement, I'll take it.   Today was better than yesterday.  I still detect some of what seems not right, but it may be fading dramatically.  Or with no drama.

There is more to life than meets the eye, no matter who says otherwise.  I won't define what that is, but obviously there are unknown forces and initiatives at play in the real of all that is.  Big bang all to pieces if you like, but explain to me what's up with the thought behind that. Or the accident of it all.  Clearly to pretend that knowledge is there when it isn't is bad science.  Theories serve to describe things in the best ways we can which seem to predict relatively narrow outcomes. They are frequently improved, changed, or replaced.

I'll be glad to call this all a mental breakdown resulting in imagined troubles which, through mind over matter, created  own issues and odd test readings.   I'll know otherwise but I won't care if others o.

What if it really lasts?  The Dr flatly said, "No, it won't just disappear as quickly as it came", when I asked.  But he doesn't know how it is in my world.  I'm getting ahead of myself. I had a good day or so, and maybe that will become the norm.  Yes or no, I feel changed somehow.

No News is Good News, but we been getting some news

First off, sometimes I meet someone that I immediately like admire from the very first instance.  N2(youngest nephew)'s wife's father was one such person.  I also automatically liked his wife.  Funny how you feel a kinship without even knowing some people, right away.

It saddens me more than they probably know to hear that this man died suddenly while doing yard work yesterday.  He was a little younger than I am and was retired from the Marine Corps.  I'm so glad I was able to see him at Christmas.  Actually, N2's in-laws helped keep me from feeling like a total waste of life over that holiday.  That was the holiday during which I realized that my place with my family is to be loved, but never to be respected, and I am very sad for that.

Today, I am sad to lose P., the ex-marine, and I feel for his wife, D.  They did everything together and were just a natural couple.  I'm just hoping that somehow she'll be OK knowing that they shared so much in life that many never know, even for a minute.  And his daughter must be crushed.

Everyone has some impact on others, but some people are more endearing than others, and often it is purely some intangible aspect that makes the so.  P. was like that, although I could readily see that he was far more thoughtful and kind than most people you'll ever meet.  I actually use his example sometimes in trying to conduct my life; not give up, and not whine so much.

The world was much better that he was part of it, and the world is not quite as good with him gone.
=========================================

So, I decided to call the Dr to see where to go from here, assuming all my tests must have been normal. The results had not reached them yet.  They called back, this time putting Dr Coronado Island, himself, on the line.   There seems to be some borderline, or high counts, here and there.  And some abnormal cell shapes and this and that.  Rather than be alarmist, we will repeat the tests in 1 month.  That doesn't help the attacks of pruritis or urticaria whatever.  The raging madness. But I try to work around that and have been advised to continue with antihistamines even though they don't necessarily prevent the problems.  They probably help.

This means I will start really going for the fresh fruits and vegetable diets and juicing that have worked out for some people.  And I'll continue to avoid prednisone if possible.  It may help a short term attack, but it is likely detrimental in the long term, or even not so long term.

I hate this preoccupation with health and medical nonsense.  I'm turning into one of THOSE people.  This is no way to score chicks, so I'll try to find better topics in the future.  For now, can I manage to change the oil in my car without having an attack?  We'll see

Maybe I'll go play music with the frozen in the sixties crowd around SD county.  Let me repeat my views---the '60's and 70's were times of confusion where total hypocrites and liars ruled the day.  Even more confusing and hypocritical than today, if you can believe that.

I always thought people would get the joke, "anarchists of the world unite!", until  saw the phrase issued in sincerity.  If I have to explain the absurdity of that, (and I'm very close to being a true anarchist--one who does not see the need for government--myself), then the explanation is wasted upon whomever needs it.  Note the word "close" was used, so no need for anyone go into a tirade about how necessary laws are, which often happens because some people cannot pay attention.

Please Let Me Get It Right

So I hear through a third party that the lady who is manager of the place where I work is hitting the road, Jack, in about one month.  Four or five weeks.

Why have I not been informed?  You probably have no more answer to that than I do.  Such a bizarre work situation.  However, this means the job may be momentarily vacant.

And it is a cushy job in many ways, and a royal pain in others.  I'm obviously the best person for this post.  So, it could happen.  The number one problem I see is that it is rare that the best person for a job lands it.  And those doing the hiring are in Chicago, and pals with Rahm and Barry, and the devil himself for all I know.

So, I have to figure out how to get somewhere.  I'm not sure the one leaving is in a position or of temperament to help me secure the position.  A good reference I'm sure. We'll see.

I have to just believe the right thing will happen.  It would be a good paying gig which allows flexible hours for the most part, and a lot of crazy problem solving, which suits me.  We'll be busier than we've ever been for the rest of the year and maybe even beyond that.

Hopefully I can make it happen and keep the physical anomaly under control enough to pull it off.

I need to quickly design a plan of attack to get this job.  If I stayed here, and didn't overspend  could put away a lot of money in a hurry.  Probably half of my take home or more.

It could be the end of my job as I know it.  I have no idea.  Any number of things could happen.  It is a crazy world and a crazy operation.  Whatever the outcome,  I guess some kind of change, move, or improvement is overdue.

No word re the various tests. They should have them for sure.  I'm not sure if the Dr  back in town or not.  Forgot about that. He ordered these through the wonders of modern communication and the coordinating skills of nurse Becky.  Well no news means no one has seen anything alarming, if anything has been seen yet at all.

When did regular Levis become so costly?  Finally checked the Levi store at Viejas outlet.  Is that weird that a native American tribe be called Viejas?  Doesn't that mean "old women" in spanish?

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Yoyo City, once again

My previous post was in very poor taste.  Drop me a line and I'll send you a refund of the ticket price.

Caught the movie Railway Man this afternoon.  Air condtioning.

Only myself and a woman who may have been even older than I were there.  She, in front row middle, and I, a few rows back.  I was worried for my mental condition--I was tearing up during the previews.  They could have played a Coke ad with polar bears and it would have left me bawling.
Crazy, crazy.  I tell you, the sadness stalks me like a dark alley mugger.  But I find things that are not so sad to occupy the mind.

I only decided to see Railway Man because it was the only movie playing at that time.  I did not want to  wait.  I forget what else besides the Angelina Jolie film was playing.  I lucked out.  Railway Man is a great film.

I suspect it doesn't get the hype it could because it is based on a true story and involves the way the Japanese treated prisoners of war in WWII.  We'd rather pretend that Europeans and Americans are the cruel barbarians of the world.  We've done our share, but not like most of the rest of humanity.  We did not invent slavery, but we ended it.  We didn't perfectly treat those who fell into our hands in war, but it seems uniquely American and European to treat POWs with any degree of respect and dignity.

People decry the internment camps and such, but by comparison to the Bataan Death March, it was a resort.  Not that those people were enemies.  Just saying the self hating Americans who take these things out of context are fuckwits.   I do not like that kind of heavy handed action where government screws over people.  And I marvel that the Roosevelt worshippers somehow gloss over the fact that he was no saint.  I'm far too radical to be an FDR fan.  But he was just part of the accelerating avalanche of statism and more.  I don't expect agreement.

Whatever.   I have a friend whose father survived that death march.  A rare person, as many were not so fortunate.  It had a lasting effect on everyone in that family.  Wars are great for prolonging the dysfunction of cultures and families.

At least I was not in a state of raving insanity when I left the theater.  Just quiet, solitary resignation, with a shred of hope.  Nicole Kidman rocks.  Hope and Nicole have little connection in my life, as far a I know.  I don't know what "shred of hope" means.  But I still stand by the assertion that  had a shred of hope

Where Were You In 2011, and Why

The people's psych ward, known as California, wants to know how the heck I made a living in 2011.  If I was curious about that, I would be asking the same thing.  I'm pretty sure I had to use savings and goodwill to survive.  Heckfiknow.

"We know you did blablabla with XYZ credit union."  Really?  I'm trying to recall.  I'm terrible at keeping track of matters mandated by governments.  Why is that?

I think it is because I find their methods, behavior, and language so distasteful that I cannot bring myself to get close to it and work with it.  To me, doing anything with the state is like washing a skunk.  That is why I am always so stunned and baffled to realize that most of my fellow Americans, including hyphenated Americans, can't seem to get enough of that skunk washing in their daily lives.  Many of them are being paid by governments in some way, so they love to see their agencies grow, and their power increase.  I won't impugn their moral compasses, though  am tempted at times.

At other times I think I am wrong; get what you can, while you can, regardless of how it is obtained, as long as it is legal.   Many of our laws are deigned to relieve us of the burden of having a conscience.  And certainly many of those enforcing the laws embrace this abdication of responsibility whole heartedly;  just doing my job, for the greater good, etc.

There certainly are a number of things I would not willingly fund: all the wars since 1945, and even some prior to that most likely, all foreign aid, the irs and several other agencies, Moonbeam's bullet train to the end of the rainbow, insurance and pensions for elected officials, public service ads promoting food stamps and exercise, etc., etc.

So, if millions of people think this stuff is cool, who are you to say they are wrong?   After all, there is a CONSENSUS!!!   How dare me.

You know why George Orwell would hate to be living now?   None of his scenarios, and none of the language in his books would seem odd.  His novels would read like a boring day in America and no one would buy them.  They'd have no pop.  Good thing for him he got in just before his imaginary world became real.

I'm a little freaked out.   I read somewhere that Ben Carson used the phrase that I recently used harping on the fact that people "go along to get along", and it queers the deal for everyone.   He didn't say queer the deal, I did.  Just to get an eyebrow raised.  It has zero to do with sex, gender, or whatever to do with identity and all that.  You can screw a light socket and call your self a wattasexual.  Don't care.  Have a f'ing parade.  I STILL do not care.  Find yourself a low voltage one, and you may never go back, black not withstanding.  Just saying.   120 volt may cure all your complaints permanently.  Sorry,  may have wandered.

The simple fact is,  the over reaching, heavy handed bossiness and cruelty of the state will only cease when people quit supporting it.  That won't happen.  The vast majority lack the courage, humility, integrity, and insight to risk such a moral stance.  Myself included, I suppose.  Too bad.  We're doomed to another couple hundred years of feudal-like existence.

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