Dear Whatever is God

Am I really as hopeless and lost as I feel?

Please answer in a way which will mold the truth into something like,
"Hell no, son, you are destined for marvelous things, all of it exciting happy and perfect, with plenty of wild sex, money, travel, good health, and lots of respect from your fellow earthlings, both human and inhuman--like bears."

Secret Life of [name withheld by my request]

My friend who lives in or on the North Pole, whose name may or may not be Sally, has been holding out. Before I go further, the reason I don't give a name and then stipulate, "not real name" is because that gives you one name to rule out, narrowing it down a little. I prefer to keep you completely in the dark.

Who knew? This chick plays great finger picking on guitar. She hasn't even been playing in ages and picked it up and went to town without once having the dead fret thing that happens if your fingers aren't chording hard enough, and not once did I see one of those instances of falling out of rhythm because she forgot a particular fingering. It was quite surprising. Even good players who haven't played in months and possibly a year or so before that will fumble a bit.

Not Sally. And she can sing. I had no idea she was that much better of a musician than I am. Most people are, but still, not everyone. And then I heard her daughter sing. She sang with her fiance and the blend was spectacular. I thought their sound and style was the kind of thing that could really go somewhere. They have other lives and I doubt the poverty life of trying to get your music out there appeals to them. But making music certainly does.

Sally was down here to see family and they invited me to a gathering at her brother/and/or sister's (see I am not going to give too many clues, but the item in question is in no way gender confused) home at an undisclosed beach, right on an undisclosed ocean. The fiance who is in a branch of the armed forces, which I will call the possibly air, land or sea Militants, wrote some pretty interesting stuff while based somewhere other than here.

I don't know what it was I expected, but the quality of the Sally crew when it comes to playing music exceeded whatever I must have expected. Sally was looking good, too, which creates lots of confusion, partly due to her citizenship in The North Pole, and because lots of things tug at me in various directions lately and I have no map of my future.

It is quite obvious this mild mannered popcorn cook woman has been hiding the musical mojo within. Previously she led me to believe she didn't even care if she played an out of tune guitar, and acted like she didn't know how it worked anyway. Wimmins, they will fool you any chance they get. They won't admit it, but it is a key element in the Secret Code of Wimmins.

I was nice to witness such art after watching the Chargers throw away yet another game. I'm convinced that the mob is threatening to harm Phil Rivers' family unless he throws X amount of passes per game to the other team, and that they are paying his line to let the other guys in to chase him around and tackle him. Either that or the coach has handed out different playbooks to the receivers so they cut left when Rivers thinks they are supposed to go right.

I'm highly skeptical of Norv, the coach. He's a good guy, I think, but lets his team and the other teams walk all over him. I've offered to counsel him but I get no reply.

Too Confused to Know

Sometimes I have no idea what to do with some situations. Just do not know.

I think this is why I hide away. When I don't I miss the simplicity and freedom.

The matters of time and space and logistics etc can be a bit daunting. It is always feast or famine in so many aspects of life. Usually the feast lasts a very short time then the table gets rudely cleared by the Ur life suks police, and somebody gets pissed off because you didn't rave about the duck beak soup, or select their pie for desert.

Voodoo Eye Ailments

It was a dark night, and I was minding my own business. I'd just walked in the door and turned on the light when I noticed an upside down couplet of musical notes floating in the periphery of my left eye's field of vision. When I moved my head or my eye or changed focus it moved too.

I could make it dance right in front of my face. I tried to snatch it out of the air but it was more elusive than a quick housefly. It was black like how notes are printed on the page. And it was dancing around like it didn't have a care in the world, and in my line of sight. No respect whatsoever.

Soon, I was on the computer searching for answers to black spots in my vision. The results were predictably off subject, with links promising answers landing me on pages with links promising to explain "black spots on penis". Who cares?

Finally I scored some info which indicated I probably wasn't going blind. This has gone on for a couple of days with day one being a day which consisted of me trying to avoid a migraine by not moving much. It felt like one of those that goes through the back of your eyes and rips your brain out. I am good at heading those off at the pass if I am left alone, so I managed to avoid the pain while only experiencing the dull wittedness that comes with it. I had to do some work over at the big O's pal's house.

Whether the musical notes, which changed into that Batman logo that the commissioner projects up in the sky, were related to the rare headache, I don't know.

I decided I better get checked in case the retina was falling apart or something. It turns out it is just the voodoo thing peeling off and it happens and is generally OK. It "should" eventually fall away from where it is in my eye and go away. At least I learned that all other aspects of my eyes are very healthy and my blood pressure was 98 over 63. Maybe I should update my glasses more than once every five years.

What made this voodoo vicious thing happen all of a sudden is unknown. I'll bet I got bumped by something or a ball bounced off my face and that is what happened. I am not good at keeping track.

The difficult thing was that I went in at 3 and they dilated my pupils. It must have been around 4 when that happened and it must take hours for the stuff to wear off. I had to hang around forever before I risked driving. I did end up buying some sunglasses but they won't be ready for a week or so--progressive lens and curved shape blablabla. So that took some time.

It was dark by the time I got out of there and all the lights looked like starbursts with long rays. I waited until maybe 630 after eating an overpriced pretzel. This place is at the edge of a mall. I do not like malls. It is as if they took the ghetto, separated it into various parts, put designer names on those elements, and presented them in very clean nice stores in the mall. What is that about?

Anyway, I got impatient put on cheap shades to cut the glare and risked it. Once I got on the straight stretch of highway the going was not too bad. Getting to that stretch was a game of guess where the lanes are, and is that guy on my tail going to kill me with those headlights or not?

My Batman logo and I made it home fine. I catch myself making it appear, moving it around like you would a cursor with a mouse, seeing if I can make it hover over various items in my view. The thing is, it is actually a little left of direct vision so I have to play little tricks looking at one thing while thinking of what is in my near peripheral vision.

Tomorrow I plan to file for disability due to Batman logo eye. I think that comes with pension, medical marijuana, and a direct line to the mayor and the commissioner. Perhaps this is God's way of telling me my destiny is to be a super hero. Well, He can wait. I want the pension and some perks.

I hate to pick out glasses and I had plenty of help. Nice store ladies.. That was mostly for the regular glasses which I will purchase later. If I was rich, I'd be in the eyeglass place a lot. I'd have all kinds of gasses and sunglasses.

The Job I Want

Here's the silver lining to the cloud in which we find ourselves. There was a time when no one would have dreamed that America would have fallen into such dysfunction that you would become socially or legally forbidden from thinking and expressing an ever growing list of sentiments. The world of political correctness, and the Big pretense. But this opens new opportunities. New agencies. JOBS!

And I want to be the first to apply for the position of thought cop.

I catch you looking askance at someone in a burka or at a homo or even thinking that certain racial groups claim more members per capita who might harm you, I'm taking you down. You can think race or ethnicity as long as you only do it from the point of view that certain segments of the population are victims more than others; victims of bullying, hurricanes, particular diseases, price of sugar, earthquakes, paparazzi, you name it. As long as your thought or rhetoric suggests that the correct groups are victims, OK, you have nothing to fear. But you must know to whom this applies.

That goes for gender issues of most varieties as well, and for anything female, unless you are citing someone from one of the untouchable groups as the victimizer, in which case it depends on certain factors who will officially be deemed victim. There is a hierarchy which suggests what trumps what, so be up on that before you think or speak.

I get it. I know instinctively how the hierarchy of political correctness works, so I am the guy for this job. It involves more than just race and other condition of birth. It covers religious matters, nationality issues, illnesses and all sorts of things relating to sex and genitalia, and also a coolness index as defined by the Code of Dead Kennedys and pop culture.

Much of the PC handbook is unwritten and has not been put into law, yet it is being enforced in businesses and governments throughout the nation. More and more it is being incorporated into legislation and I expect this trend to continue.

Why it takes a true specialist to enforce correctness correctly is because this is not something which applies equally to everyone. It depends upon condition of birth, your associates, friends and acquaintances, where you are from, where you live and various characteristics of whomever is being attacked, hired, fired, scrutinized, or considered in any way in one's thoughts.

I know all of the nuances so I always know who to cite in cases which may confuse the less savvy. Recognizing this new and growing field and the wonderful opportunity it presents causes me to feel like I am at last in the right place at the right time. That perfect vocational fit has finally materialized.

We in the thought policing business would not have such opportunity had it not been for hate crime legislation. That opened the door wide. By gaging the severity of the crime by what the perp was thinking (beyond normal consideration of premeditation and such) rather than solely on what he did, thought and opinion entered the realm of possible crimes. And crimes bring punishment.

Such laws made the thought behind the rape, murder, beating, robbery, etc. a factor in how severely the perpetrator is to be punished. So, having the wrong thought during a crime carries the punishment of the extra jail time. Separate that out and you find what thoughts and feelings, and against whom, carry what punishments. I'll bet I could catch people thinking the wrong thing before they actually do the crime.

I could fry them for the thought, then maybe add a little wrist slapping for the crime they may have committed in the future. I believe some of that is already going on---dealing with crimes that haven't been committed but could be some day.

But don't worry, if you don't think or feel, you are probably safe.

Occupy Naubinway, Michigan

This just proves what I've been saying about the audacity of the animal kingdom. Moose are now staging Occupy events in Michigan's upper peninsula.

This moose chick decided to occupy an innocent citizen's front yard, then gave birth right there in plain view. Her demands are unclear, but many vote-hungry politicians say they have sympathy for this demonstration. The Teamsters are sending her a megaphone to better conduct her Occupy effort and so she can more forcefully announce her demands, provided she and her young mooseling reach consensus regarding what they want; demands, etc.

Wisdom From The Ether

How these things happen to cross my desk (which consists of me sitting atop my bed cross-legged with a laptop in front of me, propped up on a book for better cooling) I cannot say. Perhaps I have friends who delve into sources of information where even angels fear to tread. Perhaps they, or I, are strange people.

Here is an excerpt from this site which eloquently discusses some do's and don'ts for the lady who wants the man to be of interested:

The second is you very love to say dirty, it is good but when you communicate it at the right time, by saying it repeatedly then you just make your man shame, find out how to talk dirty at the right occasion, to raise the connection between you and your man. The third awful approach is always feeling displeased with your own body, it has been a normal fact that most women do not pleased with their own body, this situation turns into the special difficulty for your man also for the reason that when he tries to respect you, and too bad you assume it as a scornful action.

The "how to talk dirty" part is a link I did not follow. Go to the site link, above, and you can find the dirty talk link in the article and follow it to educate yourself further. I know millions of women are eager to learn "some uncomfortable manners that should be kept away by a woman".

No need to thank me. Just another public service I provide which costs tax payers not even the dime.

Update: I see the talk dirty link came through in the copy and paste so you can go straight there if you so choose. I have not actually read the page as it may make me blush, barf, or fear for my life.

I Wanted To Be The Non-Leader

It looks like this guy (I think, but could be a she) stole my plan of Occupying ATM machines in places where Wall Street and larger banking institutions can't be found.

So, all I can say is Dear Sir, and/or Madam, You stole my idea, and I do not recall any consensus being established which would give you the popular mandate to do so.

I must ask that you cease and desist immediately. You are welcome to come join the Occupy Descanso movement which is actually an occupy the ATM inside Perkin's Store situation. At that time you can seek consensus on any initiatives or blocks you might want to put forth. Right now the consensus is that I get to be the one with the megaphone, so hands off, Buddy/and/or Missy.

Quick Word To Anarchists

Do you not find it ironic, and a bizarre mixed message to have a logo and actual organized groups? You are supposed to be anarchists, meaning you do not support authority of any kind outside your own good judgement. (an obvious stretch there)

As soon as you organize, ally with the most archist of all archy, communist groups, and strategize group activities, you are only being hypocrites. Fake anarchists. Bubble anarchists.

Having a nifty logo which is easy to spray paint on private and public property, and doing so, suggests that you are more a member of a vandalism cult. I know that the term "anarchy" is usually associated with chaos and crime, but I'd think that one who thinks governments can be done without would think that because he/she feels that such organizations have less respect and conscience than the vast majority of people.

What the logo, the destruction of property, the alliances do is paint a picture of a group of very bratty people who love to destroy that on which they depend for sustenance while pretending to possess a philosophy.

I've been accused of being very close to anarchist in my social philosophy, and neither I nor my accusers ever considered that title meant one who seeks to create chaos. It just means without rulers. Not the kind the nuns use, you nincompoops, the kind who run your organization and the groups with which you ally.

You play right into the hands of those who love a jack boot, all powerful central authority, and you give those who are highly skeptical of most regulation a bad name.

Rock n Roll In The Back Country

Sometimes where I live in East San Diego County is called the Back Country. I think there is even a little rag publication called Back Country news or gazettee--some such thing.

We've been having news worthy rain the past day. Rain is not a common occurrence here or anywhere in SoCal. The place is just not built for it by man nor nature.

There I was on the winding two lane road between Ballistic Mountain and Alpine. Actually, I was headed home. It was raining hard enough, temperature in the 30's (! that's cause for alarm in and of itself!!), when I see what appeared to be clods of weeds and mud on the right side of the road.

It was dark and visibility was poor. As I passed I wondered if that was debris caused by someone running their car over the side. It goes down a ways on that side. So, I drove up the road until I found a wide enough place to turn around.

Now the clifflike bluffs are on my right. I see some more cloddy looking masses in my lane as I headed back to the potential accident site, but couldn't make out clearly what they were.

I took the path that avoided most of them, doing about 40. This path meant that I'd straddle one prominent one. I'd estimated that I had enough clearance, and I did until it reached somewhere toward the rear of the car. At that point I heard and felt a pronounced thump.

My brakes still worked and I didn't hear sounds of car pieces dragging the road or falling off so I continued to see if the other debris was from an unfortunate motorist. There was no sign of people that I could see and no tire marks so I once again turned around.

When I reached the place where the thump occurred I was able to find enough shoulder to get off the road. Still raining a cold nasty rain--one of my favorite things when performing outdoor tasks. Really.

The clods turned out to be some heavy boulders which had fallen from the bluffs. A mini landslide I guess. It seemed only right to get them off of the road. A lower car could be in big trouble if the driver didn't see what was there. My car may have suffered, although a flashlight inspection of the underside, in the cold cold rain, revealed no damage.

In predictable California fashion, as soon as I was underway again, a rude idiot in a pickup truck races up to tailgate me, on a slippery road, with debris, in a very dark area, in the rain. This is why I carry no firearm. I probably would have shot a hole in his radiator. Or her radiator, whatever the case. It is usually a guy in such cases. The women jerks who drive like that are normally in different types of vehicles which I won't describe. My generalizations tend to get out of hand if I am not careful.

That is one thing about this state, there are some very nice people, but the basic culture is a bit edgy and rude in a pushy yet not quite mano a mano sort of way. On the road, they tend to be what can best be described as pricks. Still not as stupid and bizarre as Memphis, mind you, but certainly not as polite as Seattle or Boise. Unlike Memphis, the prickishness is purposeful, not the by-product of incurable ignorance.

So, though it ended with thoughts of doing violence to a back country moron, I did my good deed. It would have been two good deeds had someone been off the side down the hill. And, considering the thump and the annoyance of some tailgating redneck moron, the deeds did not go unpunished.

On the up side I got to enjoy performing a task in the dark, rainy, cold night and that was kind of fun.