Just the Way I Like New Year's Eve, almost

The number way to bring in the year is to be in the middle of wild, in-love passion just as the clock chimes the midnight hour. Rarely does that timing work out.

The next best thing, if such a source of passion is not part of one's life, is to be up on a quiet mountain in just barely freezing weather, on a perfectly clear, quiet night, safe and secure in a Ballistic Cabin.

This year I am momentarily content. No self pity and woe because the imaginary Mrs and I can't host 24 of our closest friends and their offspring for the weekend in our lovely, comfortable, hospitable villa. I did venture out earlier to a back country gathering of a few people who relish not drinking at times like this.

Before that, I noticed my one TV station had Oprah on. I have not watched Oprah almost ever. Certainly not in many years. Not that I have ill feelings toward her. As a matter of fact I admire her continued success. Such things do not happen to total slackers on a long term basis. She has to have something special going for her, like it or not. We may not agree on some things, but I believe she's a far better person than, say, David Letterman, or many other big names.

Anyway, I was about to cut the sound off again when I realized she was interviewing JK Rowling, of Harry Potter fame. They discussed a bit of what it is like to make a billion dollars. I found it interesting.

JK is hot, if you ask me. But married--go figure. Her thoughts on the books and various topics were things I found somewhat inspirational. She was apparently at rock bottom when this whole thing began 17 years ago. She was told she'd never make money writing what amounted to children's books. So much for the advice of experts.

Then there was the bit about people deciding that her fantasy stories were somehow an affront to one religious belief or other. Really, people miss the whole point. Do those same people think that it is OK to put a hit out on the Satanic Verses guy? OK to kill people over rather innocuous cartoons? Maybe they don't see the parallels, although I doubt they went beyond book burnings and stupid lectures. Take the attitude my nephew did when he was in high school.

He and his brother, along with a couple of other friends made a self recorded little album. They ran off a bunch of copies, along with a little artwork and peddled it at school for $5 a pop. It was called the "S----- Brothers Blues Band". They covered some rather good tunes, particularly classics by Robert Johnson. And it was pretty good.

So, one guy hated N1. He expressed his disdain by purchasing the tape, then throwing it down and stomping it to bits in the hallway. N1 then encouraged any others who hated him to do the same while suggesting his anti-fan buy more to really vent his hatred. No one else publicly destroyed the album, however they did sell out quickly. 500 copies. Some relatives put in orders too late to get one. At one time I had 2 or 3. I jumped on it as soon as I heard what they were up to. Some believed I may have had an influence in the inspiration of the enterprise. Who knows. They surpassed anything I've ever done long ago.

If I could write a book that groups would buy and then burn in protest, I'd encourage it. Buy my book and show your disapproval by using it for outhouse purposes or fueling your fireplace!! I guess it gets riskier when you offend Islam, so maybe that is not a good target group to offend.

But that just makes people like me want to do it. I won't because they and their holy things do not interest me enough to include them in much that I'd write. If things I'd say or do inadvertently offend any such group then such groups are minding business that is not theirs way too much.

Outrage over free speech and its opponents is an odd and inconsistent thing. The press of the western world was largely bullied into not showing the truly inoffensive cartoons that sparked riots and murder, yet they insist on the "people's right to know" in so many instances when obscene, macabre, or much more offensive images, or even items which may have consequences to innocents, are in question.

I dare the artists who push the envelope with Jewish, Buddhist, or Christian imagery to do the same with Islamic icons. I agree that free expression ought to be free, but I find the defense of free expression rather selective and inconsistent in analogous circumstances.

Amazing that JK has actually become a billionaire. She has provided a lot of people much enjoyment and inspiration. She has served to induce people to read who may have otherwise never developed the skill enough to get through half a page.

What was nice was that she seems happy. Oprah may be happier than at some periods, but she seemed slightly less happy, but more used to being mega rich.

I wish everyone a year in which dreams can come true without the long arm of the law taking them away. Things can still happen that are better than you ever believed possible. Don't let The Man or Nitwit News people convince you different. Unless, of course, you feel better doing so.

Now It All Makes Dr Phil Sense

I was watching Dr Phil with the sound off. How this came about was that I thought maybe the one channel I can pull in would have a bowl game. It did for a minute but the end of the game was 30 seconds away. U of Miami lost to the Irish Catholics.

Next thing I know, Phil is on. So I turned the sound down. Then I became curious and turned it up just in time to hear that the judgement part of your brain is not done developing until you are 25, so if you do a hardcore amount of drinking, drugs, and/or headbanging prior to that time, chances are good you will cause permanent problems and do dumb things forever.

See, it is all because your limiting mechanism, the one that says, "No, do not get naked and mow the neighbor's lawn while her hubby is out of town and she is out sunning by the pool. Homeschooling her seven year old".

There are things you just don't do, if you can help yourself. However, there are many items which can stunt the growth of the part of the brain that will keep you safe, keep you out of jail, and provide a long and happy domestic life, even allow you to get rich.

This explains everything. What I now need to know is who to sue. First my head was bounced and battered far more than was prudent or necessary. Strike one.

Then because I was told it was smart and cool by a reliable source, I began drinking. I started right off heavy at it. No sips of Papa's wine at the table growing up. For one thing, had he had it at the table, I doubt he'd have been willing to share. That would have resulted in more head banging.

Soon, there were very peculiar people from the police department giving talks at school in order to let us know what were the best drugs, where you get them, how they are made, and what makes them so cool. Oh, and of course, don't you kids do drugs now, y'hear?

Curiosity could only be put off so long. The odd police people upped the number and intensity of their talks, as the media coverage became more intense and glamorous as well. I guess they did that for kids who didn't go to school. Now everyone knew the names of things, what it looked like and had seen images of really stoned out very hot hippie chicks running around naked eager to spread their love in fields of daisies.

There frontal lobes seemed to be quite healthy, but probably not the type Dr Phil's pal was referencing. So, everyone was putting their good sense at risk. This accounts for dimwits and nincompoops throughout a certain generation or two. Or three.

They decided to expand this effort at government promotion and educations concerning drugs. They felt that it would be a good idea to also declare war on drugs. If you think about it, that phrase means nothing. You going to line up a bunch of poppies and valium against the wall and shoot them?

So, we now have people who probably fried their lobes before turning 25 populating an agency that arbitrarily fries people for small offenses or lets off foreign smugglers--no consistency to it--running an agency which has declared war on a very broad word. Is caffeine a drug? Pepper?



Now I know, my problems stem from stunted development of my brain and good sense. I do believe that I was a sucker for the glamor that media sources and the government itself attached to the art of self destruction.

Odd how it all works. But there is a certain type of being who likes it this way. Those are the ones you would have slapped silly in elementary school had you not been placed on heavy medication.



So, now I can blame substances, and government for my poor judgement and often risky behavior. I intend to sue.

=====
Even I have enough judgement to know that shooting a firearm into the air in a populated area is a very stupid thing to do. It is an issue in some areas of CA. Cultural diversity.

Roots of Confusion:#6; Flirtation part 2

It all started just a minute ago when I was thinking about another topic altogether. Then a quotation came to mind which caused me to recall times I've heard people say, in that affected Ivy League/Hollywood/Garrison Keillor tone, "Someone once said...".

Someone once said? Come on, someone once said all kinds of things, I thought to myself. Then I remembered an example.

Someone once said, "I'll show you mine if you show me yours". "OK. You first. Show me how it's done", I replied, sincerely having no clue what this was about. So she very discretely showed me. We were in first grade, in the class. It was an under desk situation, sort of.

At that moment the evil Mrs. Marshall (aptly named) roared about talking in class and stalked toward us. "Sorry, I can't show you now--the teacher!"

I wasn't sorry. I had no intention of keeping that bargain. It wasn't my idea. For some reason though, it did make me a little bit fonder of that girl.

We escaped that one unfazed by the long and evil arm of Mrs Marshall.

Soon after that little ice breaker with the little girl with glasses, we were lining up for something. We were always lining up for something, and the line was a big damned deal to the teacher. Like everything she tried to make it as unpleasant and confusing as humanly possible.

In a rare display of wit, as I was lining up in the boy's line I reached over and tapped the little glasses girl, quite gently, on the back while musically admonishing her, "Better get in line!". She smiled because it was so clever a mocking of the tyrant's wishes.

Next thing I know, I am being man handled by the evil woman who stole tax money pretending to teach children. I was in big trouble mister--how dare I?

Everyone in the area was both confused and scared. Right then and there I was sentenced. Crime: battering the little glasses girl.

Mrs. Marshall's hobby was striking kids with a wooden ruler in front of the class until they cried. Humiliation of little kids was her life. At that time you could do that. I know that is a foreign concept to many. A little leeway would be helpful in our times, but not like that. It was cruel.

A kid named Bucky was paddled daily for some unknown reason. It was painful to witness. He was not at all a bad kid. I wouldn't have blamed him if he'd brought a knife to school and cut off Mrs Marshall's paddle hand.

Anyway, I was marched to the front of the class and received several licks with her stupid custom made torture ruler. I received more licks than most because A--I denied any wrongdoing, and B--I wouldn't cry. Other than the public nature of the event, it was child's play compared to the home version and I refused to cry for them too. I was much tougher as a child than I am as an adult.

The thing that I find interesting is that my first flirtation was initiated by the glasses girl, and I played it perfectly. She made the first move and I got it for free. But, when I showed a tinge of affection, I was arrested and flogged.

Now, what kind of message would that send to a tender innocent child? I'm sure I don't know. I think someone once said something on that subject.

Someone once said. A stupid, pretentious prelude to bullshit if ever I heard such a thing.

I'll forever be grateful to the little glasses girl. She tried to say I hadn't done anything wrong, but to push it any further would have resulted in her being flogged as well. I've yet to meet the woman who would go to those lengths for me on a matter of principle. The only other time I was flogged by that evil teacher was for defending a kid against false charges being brought against him.

Crude as it was, I feel the little glasses girl's attempt to be my friend was kind, sincere, and educational.

Needless to say, I learned almost nothing in first grade. By year's end I was considered one of the "slow" children. She had successfully labeled me for future teachers. Fortunately my second grade teacher, Mrs. Keller, was an angel of mercy who had not taken the job out of her love of torturing little kids. She figured me out and managed to get me into the swing of things. By third grade the school officials were baffled and inquired of my mother how I went from being a hopeless dimwit to an underachieving over achiever.

Compared to many I suppose my schools were good, but I have to say, many of South Miami Elementary's teachers were rigid, unyielding morons. But compared to South Miami Jr High, they were the best of the best. The Jr High was run by an army of Mrs Marshall types and first rate perverts.

Though a great many who teach in public schools are good and honorable people, it is the nature of the public school structuring that they tend to beat down the good and promote bad things. They are set up like prison communes. It is absurd how the Great Pretense flourishes there more than anywhere else. And it flourishes a lot elsewhere.

More Ghosts of the Past and Present

Pipe organ in Charlotte, NC--31-year-old Zimmer & Sons pipe organ
Thought Scrib might like that. It's at St Patrick's Cathedral in the state of states, NC.

These are times that try men's souls. For the universally challenged, the word "men" in this case applies to any human, or, if you prefer, hu-being, with a soul. It is highly possible that most times are trying. Especially when people organize themselves such that they are ruled by select groups and individuals without limit.

Not my problem.

The times are not really what try my soul. My ability to adapt to them, maybe. In any case, you carry on as best you can, and depending on your basic internal constitution, refuse to give up the dreams. That is the tough part. Most dreams die on the mind's cutting room floor. Deemed unrealistic, impossible because they are my dreams, etc.; the reasons for aborting them number more than the stars in the sky. In my own case, history shows that the substance of the negating rationales is far less than the substance of the dream being squashed. But that is, of course, hindsight.

Some people claim that hindsight is 20/20. I disagree. It depends upon who is doing the analysis. Too often history as we know it is full of inaccuracies and false premise, therefore one may think he is able to spot the cause and effect which resulted in the reality of the time, yet he may be lost in fiction. Happens all the time. Political people and those who control them depend upon that fact.

I thought the Christmas season held no pressure and depressing demons for me. That may not be true. It seems the season of retrospection and worse, sometimes. My own code prevents me from embracing such realizations because I like the spirit of the thing, even if I curse myself for lack of family and wealth.

What I have concluded is that there is no way I would have ever been happy trying to participate in the corporate cultures to which I've been exposed. Not for any real length of time. Even in low level positions I often agonized for years over instances when I "just did my job" by following the company policy, following instructions from above, rather than following what I knew to be the right thing.

The result of that is always someone or some group being unnecessarily slighted, harmed, inconvenienced, or penalized in some way. You know it is wrong, but you "are just doing your job". Makes no damned sense.

Even though it put me in a vulnerable spot a time or two, I do not regret the times when I stood on my values and did not let a less than stellar salary buy my soul. I never felt bad about not leaving my conscience at the door when entering the work place, even though that is how you please the employer. My way was not something that cost them money in the long run. But it is surprising how far most places go in their efforts to save a dollar, and reinforce the serf status of underlings. They'll cost themselves thousands in the process.

Most larger firms are so tied in with government in one way or another that they lose all sense of reason in efforts to satisfy directives and obvious opportunities to earn political favor. It is rather sick, I think.

So, clearly, I do not belong in such places. Many have told me that is cutting off your nose to spite your face. I agree, but I am not cut out to do anything else. If they levied a small tax on all my neighbors in order to fill my pockets, I couldn't very well accept it. That is what separates some people from others in these matters. When the money trail is complex and less obvious, most people and businesses have no problem with it ending up in their pocket by that means. I envy them. They know how to get paid, and don't bother looking beyond the fact that it is legal. Legal, but not a truly voluntary transaction. Not always even really above board and honest.

Still, the ones I really admire are those who know how to get paid and manage it through eyes-wide-open voluntary trade. I hope I find such an endeavor that yields more than my current efforts do, before I am too tired and sullen to try.

This year's New Year's resolution: Avoid any and all New Year's Eve parties. I've never liked them. Amateur night. I'm in no mood for drunks. When I get grouchy like this, I just want to beat them with a 2x4.

Maybe that is because I was once in their shoes, but less as an amateur. I'm pretty sure people wanted to beat me with a 2x4 a time or two, and probably did. I just didn't feel it until a day or two later.

My Bad: Too Much Info

So, there I was at a little gathering of people at someone's house. I think I knew everyone there to some degree. Casual acquaintance degree, but they've always been rather nice and down to earth.

Then Mr X (not real name) made a huge mistake--he asked a couple of probing questions which hit the button which by passes the internal censor. It is not always the racy stuff that is best to censor before broadcasting. The boring, intricate intrigues of one's life are often the kind of thing you may compulsively want to get off your chest, but they should be buried deep within your psyche instead.

The poor guy. He asked, and I told, and told and told. We went through so many facets of the cotton dust saga that things came up which I'd long forgotten, or tried to. Mostly I was just trying to prove my point that when industry is in bed with government, and when government officials grandstand with talk of sticking it to the evil corporations and "special interests", chances are that the biggest players in that industry have actually written the script, even while crying the blues about it in the press.

That is actually how it works, and once you've been in the middle of it your view of the process will forever be tainted. And, of course, I desperately want the rest of America to see what I see. You can't always get what you want, and many times you should quit trying. Think of something else to want.

Once a story gets started, it is hard to cut it short and escape while not losing the point. I kept wishing I could disappear after every volume of prattle spewed. But no. I somehow found myself stuck in the next volume in the series instead.

Maybe it is because I know I am often perceived as a life long day laborer who plays harmonica now and then. In that regard I can't rule out that there is not some ego feeding motive that compels me to override good judgement in such circumstances.

My assessment of this latest instance of bizarre behavior is that I am somewhat sad and maybe a little fearful deep down. I am very tired of handiman day labor drudgery and I feel a little guilty for not having the gumption to roar-in the Helen Reddy sense of the word, except I am not woman, so we can leave off that part of the hear me roar scenario. Surely I could do something which is a little more mentally challenging, like run a cash register, or count bears in the wild.

Perhaps I can't do anything more satisfying. At least I see the results of my work. That hinge is no longer falling off the cabinet door, yippee. I did that.

Whatever is going on, it is a downer. And I am sick and tired of fighting it. Or not fighting it in the right way. The right way is to change things. Things would be my actions and efforts. Who wants to actually change what they do or don't do? Not me, that's for sure.

All this has left me down, and angry, almost aggressively angry. That is no way to win friends and influence people.

hulu movie review

For those of us TV challenged, who like to see movies, especially at times when the mind needs to be quieted through diversionary pursuit, Hulu.com is an easy place to go for free flicks. I was in just such a mood , as I often am, and found the movie Rock My World.

Peter O'Toole played a major role, so how bad could it be? Fortunately, no bad at all. Just the thing--a movie about a band and the crazy things that go on, and about regaining perspective when pride is at stake, as well as livelihood. The music was, fortunately, an irrelevant aspect of the film. The music itself was nothing to write home about. But it didn't matter. It's a fun and silly story. A good movie to watch to enjoy a brief escape from the less pleasant story that might be running through your mind. Depending upon who you are. If you are me, it was the ticket.

Some Hulu movies are worse than awful. Don't be fooled by what's on the first page of choices. Often the good ones get buried down the list. I think they up their position according to what is a recent add, and what gets the most play. There are plenty of teenagers or others with poor taste who also use the site.

So, in addition to Artois the Goat--a very original and clever movie, I'd say Rock My World has its place. Of course Artois is in a class somewhat by itself, and given a choice, one or the other, it would win out.

I hope this has been helpful.

And Here I Thought Only Insanity Visited

Happy days must surely be upon me. In my semi-hermitic world I often feel as if insanity is my only counsel. Fits of it seem to try to intrude upon my unending meditative, daydream existence. Or so I thought.

Recently, right here in this place I have been spoken to by the voice of sanity. At first I was somewhat frightened. I expected Sanity to scold me and point out my many flaws. Being who I am, I expected sanity to hold no patience for me. What does it want, I wondered. Is it going to throw back the veil and tell everyone of my many misjudgments and odd choices?

But that would probably be mistaking sanity for dogmatic judgmentalism. Probably a mistake.

As it turns out, even though I have no idea if I know sanity or not, sanity seems to know me well enough, and has been kind. If I'm not mistaken I think sanity led me to place the bungee cord on the garbage can lid in order to thwart the efforts of the litterbug raccoon. I did it, and it worked. Of course I refuse to admit I wouldn't have thought of it, yet without the voice of sanity it may have taken me years to do the simple, reasonable thing.

It does me good to think sanity considers me worthy of its voice. Perhaps sanity is not the stranger I thought. Could be one of those Christmas miracles. I am open to those and fully believe they are possible.

I'd Be Scrooge if I Could

If I were Scrooge I would get to fly through the night, and time, with oddly dressed ghosts. I'd also have money and power to bestow wonderful relief to friends in need, once I saw the error of my ways. Not a bad gig, when you think about it.

As it is, I doubt I will have the fun of flying through time and the night. Maybe I lead too much of an inconsequential life. Not that I haven't messed up and hurt people's feelings once or twice when I should have known better. But on the whole, nothing of major consequence is there.

My biggest woe at the moment is purely selfish--I misplaced or lost my trusty sunglasses--the prescription ones that take care of my eye condition--I have stigmata; more in one eye than the other. Oh where oh where can they be. I heard that having stigmata can be a miraculous thing and sometimes you get visited by priests and other experts. I'd prefer a benevolent opthamologist and optometrist.

Maybe I'll find them. The lenses are in terrible shape but better than nothing when you are on I-8 (THE Eight in California lingo) driving west at the end of the day. It can be a blinding situation, which is not good at 70 mph, or so. The scratched up stigmata glasses help a lot. Guess I'll have to make due with cheap sunglasses that are not help at all for stigmata of the eye.

I bought them the Christmas before my exodus from Memphis, specifically for the journey. When was that? Would that be three years ago? I should have fixed the date in my mind. I lost track and have to search for mental landmarks in time to put it together.

Those glasses have sentimental and intrinsic value, dammit.

So, woe is me. I can't be a rich SOB and fly through the sky until I become a rich wonderful person, and I have to suffer the sun with my stigmata uncompensated. And people in Haiti think they have it rough.

Many Things and Blue Sky

Just when I was trying to send the picture that I will then place here, I thought about those denial of service attacks on Mastercard and whatnot, supposedly in protest of the wikileaks guy being arrested. Or maybe in protest of people being pissed at him.

Some people approve, and some don't. That is not the issue I am addressing. Protests and what constitutes legitimately peaceful and what doesn't, how it relates to one's view of freedom, capitalism, totalitarianism and whatnot is the issue.

This is where many unions' tactics in the past have conditioned people to take the stand that if they believe in their cause, then all other values are suspended when dealing with the opposition.

I disagree with that approach. A cyber attack designed to crash a commercial website is not a peaceful protest. Imagine the millions who needed the service to work, who have zip to do with the wiki man or anything relating to him. It is wrong to harass strangers and disrupt innocent businesses because you don't like something. I think it is wrong to stop traffic, throw rocks, or do anything beyond letting your voice be heard and yourself be seen in protesting a decision by a company. For one thing, you do not know whose life you may screw up by doing things which impact people not connected to your issue. You may prevent a sick person from getting help in time, may cause someone down to his last dime to miss a non refundable flight to a circumstance of relief and hope--you just don't know and you do not have the right. Not morally.

It applies to the internet as well. Unless you are shutting down the IRS in this manner, you will have a hard time convincing me that attacking independent businesses in this way is peaceful protest. It is an abuse.

Other than that, the sky does exist. It is blue. Sure glad I had an ark already built. The two coyotes I had on board are already running amok, multiplying and tearing up rabbits.


Looks like one of my neighbors cut the corner on a blind curve once too often. It is pulled off to the side toward the bottom of the hill. That front tire is off the rim. Can't say this is a big surprise. Seems like that car is one of the usual ones which travels the wrong side of the road going way too fast, all the time. I'd love to race around on that hill, but I don't for just this reason.

SD State Aztecs beat Navy in the Poinsettia Bowl. I think that is the right Poin.
I took a shine to that team upon my arrival here because they always lost and seemed doomed forever, but they have a cool name and had heart. Now they are a real team and only lose weirdly--like the Chargers. When they lose it is like they are under a spell or curse because they lose in odd ways to riffraff. They must have taken my advice and conducted the proper ceremonies with the cheerleaders, as I instructed.

If they had done these rites slightly differently, we'd be having a bumper crop harvest next fall. As it is they beat the US Navy. That makes them a world super power---possibly The world's number one super power.

Need a Good Mud Wrestling Venue?

..come to Ballistic Mountain, especially up by Molly the Cat's house. He probably won't bother to fight you as the great outdoors hasn't held much appeal for him lately.

We've had non stop rain and mist for days. This may be the longest I've gone without seeing even a glimpse f the sun or even a sliver of blue sky since I arrived here.

The road up there is far narrower, with steeper hills than the unpaved road up to my place. There is more than one patch of thick gooey mud. No way you can stop on the downhill side in a couple of places. Try and you just slide.

My big concern is meeting someone coming the other way. Some complete idiots live a little past Molly's place, so if I was on the road going one way and one of them was going the other way, it is a sure bet that only one of us would be looking for traffic. In normal conditions they drive as if no one else could possibly be on the road.

There are some good people up here, and some people who are either always very drunk, naturally dimwitted to the extreme, suicidal, or brain damaged. Maybe all of the above. It's always the same ones who cut corners on the blind curves, escaping collision only by the vigilance of the other drivers.

I have made rude gestures more than once. Sometimes I forget to avoid such emotion. I hope my mean look is actually mean and scary, but I doubt it. Could be time to wave the machete out the window.

Tomorrow morning is last Molly feeding, providing his people's flight can get into the airport in all this foggy mess. It has been a hassle but kind of enjoyable. I usually hang around awhile to give him some quality time and convince him they will be back soon. He seems to appreciate it. Half the time I wonder if I got the needle in when shooting him up because other than the first time, when he tensed and had his ears back in anticipation, he has shown no notice whatsoever. I do it while he is busy eating. It's a very skinny needle.