Kin

They say my great grandfather, or maybe it was great great grandfather had a bit of the wanderlust in him. He was a rancher, farmer, and a bit of an adventurer. His main base was in the Kansas territory and upper Oklahoma.

I believe he was one of them in the second land rush in Oklahoma. I get a few of the facts confused. The part I know is correct is that he rode his horse out west, maybe checked out the gold rush as far as California.

Of course he carried a six gun side arm. When he returned to the family in Oklahoma, he had some notches on his gun. I'm thinking gramps may have been a tough hombre. Right or wrong, that makes me feel a little better about my particular gene pool.

Blues Things

I was thinking and wondering, "Why do I not tend to enjoy sharing stories from my past?". I think it is because it makes me sad or brings on remorse and regret. That is the curse of the underachiever, the one who let the one that got away get away, and the one who turned his back on many glaring opportunities which most people wouldn't believe anyway.

When I look back, sometimes I can find an interesting event or story, but behind it is always a sadness that kicks me like a mule. That part may not be relayed all the time, but it causes me to be very resistant to writing about what I've done, and quite happy to write about what I think or to write little flights of fancy which are largely daydream fragments.

Often, the present is without a lot of guilt, remorse or other pain so I might discuss it a little bit. The trouble is it is often without anything else either. Sort of an empty thing. I guess I gravitated toward nothingness because I didn't have the heart to attempt much anything else. Whether socially or otherwise, I don't think I felt up to getting that part of me torn up any more. Not that the heartbreaks haven't been mostly my own fault in one way or another. But, even though it was my fault, it was not my desire and I didn't seem to have the ability not to do whatever that led to it.

Now, in some cases, it was purely my lack of comprehension of some things which was the culprit. Some of that is just how I am wired or how I was schooled, or both. I can't fault myself for the innocence that ignorance carries.

Even so, I have come to realize why I am where I am. What I do not know is what I intend to do about it, or if I can continue like this indefinitely. But, as relative as time is in my world, indefinitely could be a very short time and quite doable.

I do not like the fact that I am not particularly proud of how things have worked out over all. I am proud of a few times when I stood on principle or stood up for people even when they thought I was nuts to do so. The worst thing ever is to cause innocent people pain. Those instances minimized that so I am glad and don't consider they really cost me anything.

It sure does make me want to run sometimes, and just keep going. That's why I liked the aimless roadtrips. I liked the first one best because I did not know where I'd wind up, or even if I'd live to the end of it. The last one was good, but I knew where I was going and that I'd return home. Home is good, but it was obvious I'd find myself still there and that is not that exciting. I could do worse I suppose. It's just that I need so damned much work before being minimally acceptable to myself. Good thing I am willing to put things off and out of mind for long periods of time.

Occupy Descanso!

Ever one to explore ways in which I can stand in solidarinosc with whomever is standing elsewhere, for whatever reason, I decided to initiate the Occupy Descanso effort. It might have gone better.

It seemed only logical to set up camp at Perkins store, as close to the ATM as I could get. That's pretty much the banking presense in Descanso--the ATM. I had my "this is what democracy looks like" sign neatly painted, and carried a bullhorn. I did all the right things.

I repeated everything the facilitator said and wiggled my fingers to show approval of ideas. First order of business was what to sleep on, and where to sleep. They wouldn't let us sleep in the store, and drunks from the adjacent pizza pub kept tripping over us when we tried to set up camp on the front sidewalk.

We then waved our "we are the 99%" sign only to be ridiculed by passers by. They called us "99% crazy!". Undaunted, the facilitator asked for consensus on whether we should throw our trash in their capitalist trash can or if we should burn it to cook bread.

No consensus was reached so we just left it where it was. Soon it got dark and the place was kind of spooky. When the facilitator put forth the proposition that someone, I think the sheriff, brought up, that we go home, I wiggled my fingers in the affirmative.

We'll be back tomorrow in force. Hopefully there will be more occupiers than just me next time. It is not easy facilitating demonstrating and seeking consensus all by myself. Especially the consensus part.

Auto Parts Store Review

Somehow NAPA has the image of knowing what they are doing and being the house of real car parts.

Wrong. Not just in Alpine, but I've noticed this in some other towns, NAPA has arrogant people, who appear to be hoping you will give them reason to start a fistfight, behind the counter sneering as if to say, I know more than you do about your car. But they do not know jack about anything.

They suck. NAPA in Alpine can't even get the simplest part right. You look it up; '08 subaru forester non turbo. You note the part number. You go get it. You wipe that sneer off of your face. High school ended many years ago for you and it looked stupid then, too.

[a note to those who may not know this: California has probably more rednecks than all the Southern states combined, but not more than AZ, Utah, Idaho, Montana, Oregon and Nevada combined]

I will stop short of indicting the entire NAPA company, but not very short. It has been over ten years since I found a transaction at a NAPA store satisfactory in the long run.

NAPA in Alpine sure sucks. It's like walking into a seriously unfriendly redneck bar out in the sticks. Suddenly your mind starts playing Dueling Banjos.

Auto Zone, and O'Reilly are far better, provide better service, better price and their stuff lasts longer. NAPA somehow went downhill. Judging from some of the employees, I think they may be a front for union goons to cool their heels between vandalism gigs.

It is an outrage that NAPA is Alpine's only parts place. From now on I will just go to the O'Reilly store in Poway. Like most Poway businesses, those people are competent and go out of their way to get you what you need. They don't screw it up.

Can't Figure The Weather

Here I thought I'd returned from m trip to weeks and weeks of 90 and 100 degree days. As it turns out there weren't that many really hot days and then the just disappeared. Our hot times, as best I understand, fall a little more toward fall than they do in other places like Memphis or Ponca City.

This year, it is all different. We've been having nights in the 40's and days that hardly reach 70. Of course that varies greatly just a few miles away in any direction. The coast is always nice and perfect. The desert is hot during the day, fairly cool at night.

I've even seen lots of clouds and some rain this past week. I was expecting to go a month without seeing a cloud in the sky. This certainly was no record breaking summer here. I shouldn't complain. It's just that I was still in the mood for a little bit of hot weather. I'd become acclimated to it on my trip, although some of that was way too hot.

Really, I'm confused about other things, and weather is a good subject for expressing that confusion without delving into the more substantive matters. And it is still all true, what I've said.

Occupy Atlanta Silences Civil Rights Hero John Lewis!

This is not what freedom looks like.
This is how true oppression grows. Let's see if we have a consensus on whether the sky is blue.

I ignore comments on youtube as they are rarely worth the read.

The video the video speaks for itself speaks for itself

Dare I say this is what crazy ass white people look like? Collectivists tend to freak me out because they are intolerant toward those who seek to mind their own business and think for themselves. No need to let a person speak for fear he or she might be thought of as somehow better, smarter, different or that he might offer a differing point of view.

The key to everlasting ignorance is contempt prior to investigation. Another vehicle to ensure ignorance is to practice being a parrot.

Best Way To Beat The Man

Warning: This is another instance which finds me preaching that which I rarely practice, or have a very difficult time practicing.

The Man is actually more of a force than any particular person or even institution. People and institutions can be The Man, but aren't the totality of The Man. The Man is that force which seeks to prevent you from living your life and dreams as you see fit, even if you aren't harming others. To do this He finds ways to keep you paranoid, in fear, angry, envious, confused, and sometimes full of vengeful rage.

How can you fight a thing like that? That's what I've been asking myself, and that leads me to a couple of realizations. One is that I have allowed myself to look at local, national, and world events (as presented in news media and some entertainment shows) and I've suckered right into the desired reaction; despair and a feeling of powerlessness over my life and future. The other realization is that it would be healthier to look and see the positive aspects of life.

If I didn't know about obscure, bizarre regulations which kill businesses and enterprise, I would not let that hinder my thoughts of starting some productive independent effort. Maybe it would work out, and maybe I'd just do things as well and responsibly as I think they should be done and be below the radar. It is better to do that than to let The Man convince me that mere mortals need not apply. That is His goal, and I can't say playing into it is an enlightened approach.

I do consciously make an effort not to be a part of The Man's force, and will continue to do so. And the very best way to do that is to try to avoid being suckered any more into believing that we're all doomed and that no one would pay me to do whatever it is that piques my passion. In short, I will resist the brain washing which would make slaves of us all. Or most of us, except the one's who seem to be the core of the machine that is The Man.

Certain enterprises would be better off moved to another state if any success were realized, but that is nothing to a gypsy like me. First one must begin the project and do the work to make it grow. And not be afraid to fail, or to succeed.

That doesn't mean I won't monitor public affairs, but the reality is that the news is pretty much just a droning message which is aimed toward convincing people that government is the end all and be all of life. The average journalist and news publisher is merely the government's salesman, pitching the idea that government is something greater than people and that it is your only hope for making it to the mailbox alive and for making decisions of every sort. They paint it as a god who knows best how everyone should live and think.

It gets more involved than that, and that is part of the trap. People like to puzzle things out and to have enemies, so there is something for everyone. Except me. I want out.

My happiest days have been days when I was too busy living my life to pay much attention to news and governmental hijinx; getting my heart broken, or breaking hearts, and just generally tasting the beauty of the world and life, bringing ideas to material fruition. Creative endeavors, whether of a technical, artistic or other nature, which tweak one's passion, are more than the spice of life. They are a big part of what makes the human race a special species. Those things are life enhancing and life giving.

An enterprise need not be great and earth shaking to be a spectacularly invigorating aspect of one's life. It could be a hot dog stand, or landing a job you love, or selling homemade products out of the house. It is often better to go for it without a lot of knowledge of possible drawbacks, and without the idea that if attempt 1 yields no results that it is time to quit.

That's my goal--to see some positive and not let The Man sucker me into passionate opinions about things I know little about. Like Wall Street, or any number of things I don't even think are The Man's business. More and more I attempt to resist deciding that some person or group is my enemy based upon info floated out there by The Man.

Blind and ignorant hatred is one of His favorite foods. Sure, there are misguided and even defective souls out there, but rarely is it necessary to squander my energy hating them. Most of the time I am not in a spot to do anything directly about these miscreants. Cross that bridge when I get there. And avoid contributing money to The Man's cause when possible.

When you think of it, who is really benefitting humanity more, masses of people chanting with signs, or dumping grain from rail cars, or someone who started making a product in the basement and now finds the need to hire some helpers, rent a building and continue to improve the product that people have shown they want? I think the producer is the greater humanitarian, in reality.

I've decided that in response to consumer advocates I will become a producer advocate. Anyone can consume, and, speaking for myself, their advocacy is neither needed nor wanted. It takes a lot more to produce. I'd love to figure out the game well enough to get paid to be a producer advocate.

That may be difficult. Consumer advocates make their money by slamming the product and the producer, and often unfairly. Ralph Nader got rich off it. It turns out the Corvair, when run through later government tests, proved superior to most cars on the road. But he managed to kill it without personal consequence. It became a big business--consumerism.

How can I pull the same stunt but as a producer advocate? Maybe I'd have to slam consumers, but everyone is a consumer, or he/she quickly dies. Be that as it may. I now declare myself the new voice for producer advocacy.

Household Tip: Stop the bleeding

Quite often I find a nick or spot that just wants to bleed like a stuck pig. It is inconvenient and I'm in a hurry. Styptic pencil won't quite do it because this is more than the little shaving nick.

What do I use? Krazy Glue or Super Glue. It works. My sources tell me the stuff was invented to hold battlefield wounds together since there is no time for stitches while putting a guy on a stretcher to be hauled to safety by helicopter. That makes sense because it works better on skin than anything else.

There you have it. I stopped a skinned knee from bleeding all over clothes and such and a skinned knuckle from worrying people, all just this week.

I must say, I've used super glue/krazy glue a lot, but with very mixed results. Once I started using it to seal wounds the success rate improved dramatically. It is the only application in which it always works.

The Western Gods Must Be Crazy

The East has always been a different thing, and the idea of individual freedom and maximum choice never seems to have been quite as catchy a thought as it was in the Western world. But we were disorganized barbarians while they were doing the bidding of opium heads and making fancy ceramics and such.

These days it is as if a spell was cast upon intellectuals, government officials, bankers and others in the West. They manufacture crisis after crisis, mostly through efforts to curb freedom in the name of something fuzzy and warm, then cry about the crisis and give more power to those who created the crisis so that they might curb the crisis.

The rationalizations for both the non-solutions and the anger at everyone but the real crisis creators are complicated, clever, and fallacious. What happens is partial truth substitutes for the whole truth.

If I steal a gun from you, then hire a guy to shoot you with it, and then he gets caught and you ask me to punish him and maybe even do something to make sure this doesn't happen to others, that would be kind of strange don't you think? It would become even more bizarre if I act shocked and dismayed and am the most vocal in denouncing this vile crime, even though anyone paying attention knows I planned and facilitated the crime. People know I'm guilty but are willing to pretend otherwise since I pretend innocence.

That is exactly what is going on in this country. Why no one would call me out in the above example is the same reason the real trouble makers keep there jobs in the real world today. But I cannot explain that reason other than to say people like the easy targets, do not care to examine a thought which has too many parts or too much depth, and do not want to appear odd, flakey or uncool by going against the snowball effect of peer pressure. It is unbelievable.

The West had a shot at really expanding the level of freedom their cultures and countries, yet they are hell bent on ensuring quite the opposite. It's all for our own good though, so that makes it holy and right. I'm so happy this obesity crisis and its insane solutions have gone global. If a paternal or maternal higher authority wasn't going to punish me by taxing or outlawing certain foods, or taking even stronger measures, I'd be a 600 pound blob who couldn't even fit into his own tourmobile.

Thank you, diet police. I owe my slimness and ability to see my toes all to you.

Staying Above Water

OK. I still don't know what to call Mr Big that sounds right or fits. He's the money guy that may have more influence over this administration than most. I'll call him the Puppeteer.

So, one of the US Cabinet members came to stay at the puppeteer's socal house with his family, and secret service entourage. Guys like that get secret service too. They use them to run errands, do favors, go to the grocery store. All the stuff we are glad to pay for to keep our elected and not elected officials safe and sound.

As I was readying the place I was carrying some outdoor item, either a long cushion or a pool float from point A to point B. The path I took went right by the end of the spa. It is a concrete pond which is at the end of the larger concrete pond, or swimming pool as we call them in Miami.

The patio is up a few steps where the spa is located. That way it can spill over the waterfall thing down to the pool. I was on that upper patio part looking toward point B, thinking, "I'll put this thing over there". I was holding it so that it blocked any peripheral vision on my right side.

As luck would have it I cut a little too close to the corner of the spa. My left foot was still on solid ground but my right foot went straight down to the first ledge in the spa, about an 18" or so drop--just to the point where the water level reached the bottom of my knee.

You may not know this, but when you are walking and the ground is suddenly way below where it is supposed to be and you do not realize this until you take a step, or later, it is quite a shock and often throws your whole rhythm off, or even kills you.

I still have no idea where my left leg went when I fell. Somehow through my shoe it almost caused my left big toe nail to rip off. It was a sudden and definite pain experience. The positive part is that I only bruised the inside of the right knee rather than break something, and the majority of me landed on dry land.

It seemed like a good idea to just leave the shoe on. For once I wore heavier tie up shoes rather than work barefooted or in moccasins. And I did what needed doing. That was the right thing. The pain became minimal and I didn't have to know what the damage was.

It turns out that the shoe and sock held it so that the blood acted like glue to keep it all together. That kept it from being all that painful later.

Should I sue the government for this mishap? There are no warning signs or barriers. My employer did not supply a helmet. And no one told me that if I am walking that way trying to ready the place for the Secretary of xyz that I could step into the abyss and be nearly maimed for life. I think I could sue the Puppeteer, and the US government, ie, you.

It seriously amazes me that I have a big bump on the inside of my knee which in no way influences its function, and that this toe thing is not painful. I do have it wrapped tight in heavy bandaids, but what luck.

Once again, I've been blessed with minimum consequence for maximum negligence and carelessness. Thank you guardian angels or whatever.

I am pretty sure that, when I go, it will be due to a freak accident of some kind and the actual cause of death will be blunt force trauma. It has happened too many times, and I've come out OK. I just think that one day, whatever watches out for me may be taking a break just at the moment when it happens. Maybe guardians have to go smoke, or pee. If my timing coincides with that, it is curtains.