Fish and wildlife visited the site of the goat massacre and confirmed that it was indeed a mountain lion attack. They found tracks in the area which indicate a mama and cub.
So far they haven't arrested the goat owner for making it hard for the cougar by placing the goat behind a seven foot fence. That would be par for the course in SoCal, or California altogether. Few people here tend to recognize the balance when it comes to human survival vs questionable leeway enforced for critters.
They either hate people and think we've invaded the land of bears and squirrels, therefore we should all die. Or they don't care and would be perfectly happy littering, riding the bumper of the car in front, and shooting anything that moves. That latter group is mostly transient from the south.
If for any reason I was threatened by a mountain lion and was lucky enough to kill it, I would not notify the authorities for fear of reprisal. I'm watching for them, though, because it would be cool to see the killer cats cruising through my back yard, which is the Cleveland national forest.
Friday, May 31, 2013
Thursday, May 30, 2013
Good News, Bad News, Nature Bullying Again
The good news: Elected officials in Congress are finally calling for abolishing the IRS, and instituting a simple tax, maybe like the Fair Tax, or a flat tax.
The bad news: The most vocal on abolishing the IRS are Republican, which means every hard core progressive and Democrat is going to oppose it.
The only real reason people in either party would oppose abolition is because the IRS is like a police force with no rules, and they can influence where it wreaks its wrath. They want that tool of political coercion, or else they fear it and won't stand up to it because if they lose, the agency can easily cost them plenty.
Of course, tax attorneys would be opposed. Most lawyers oppose anything that simplifies laws because they make money when regular people have to hire a translator to even get what the law says, and a soothsayer to determine whether they are in compliance.
Even under the fair tax people will trade some under the table, so the few lucky attack dogs that they still need will have opportunity for their sadism fix by going after those enterprising scofflaws.
Let's hope they don't manage to abolish the IRS, then turn around and have Homeland Security hound out those who might think about not cutting the feds in on transactions. The IRS evolved into a terror agency and Homeland Security is more than poised to fill any power void that changing the tax system would bring.
It is about power. Yet this country attempted to establish itself based on severely limiting just such power. Those who promote it either think the are part of the elite who wields the power or influences officials, or they think if they do everything right no one will bother them.
I suppose that will work for some time if you are a jelly fish. Sooner or later even good little citizens tend to say something unpopular, or want a larger soda, or who knows what. Then they wonder what happened. They happened.
When my stomach feels like iron, I'll go check the talking points on this at moveon.org or huffington post. I'm sure they'll be against undoing the IRS because it comes from the other side. And smashing the other side is more important than right or wrong. Go team.
It would be so cool if a lot of people from both sides realized it is time to squash IRS, which operates without warrants or accountability. It is in the top three of disgraces this nation has tolerated which defy its stated principles. Taxing income is a bad idea anyway. Enforcing this practice by means of an organization with few clear limits and a tendency toward vendetta is a very bad idea.
;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;
Holy smoke!!! Just read an email from the neighborhood info people. A mountain lion ate someone's goat, up the mountain from me. Not very far. It hopped a 7 foot chain link fence. They say there are 2 lions in the general area, and claim the goat one is four feet high? Five feet long, excluding the tail.
I just find the four feet tall part tough to believe. It doesn't sound right but maybe the top of his head is there if he's strutting with his nose in the air. Spiking the football for murdering an innocent. tasty goat.
If you live up here, and your kids are hopeless, now is the time to send them out to explore the mountain. If something happens, no one will pin it on you. Just that ol' mountain lion, and after all, cougars are people too. But they are bullies as well.
''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''
Come on, Mitt. Say it is not true. I saw a headline that said Mitt was planning to rejoin the national dialog. Those are the words they used. I'm not sure what national dialog means, but I know what it is in this context---Mitt wants to see his picture in the paper and wants to muddy mirky waters. No, don't do it.
And please, Bush family, retire the dynasty. These rumblings about Jeb and some nephew Bush are troubling. Political dynasties are not in the best interest of freedom, or much else that is desirable.
.
The bad news: The most vocal on abolishing the IRS are Republican, which means every hard core progressive and Democrat is going to oppose it.
The only real reason people in either party would oppose abolition is because the IRS is like a police force with no rules, and they can influence where it wreaks its wrath. They want that tool of political coercion, or else they fear it and won't stand up to it because if they lose, the agency can easily cost them plenty.
Of course, tax attorneys would be opposed. Most lawyers oppose anything that simplifies laws because they make money when regular people have to hire a translator to even get what the law says, and a soothsayer to determine whether they are in compliance.
Even under the fair tax people will trade some under the table, so the few lucky attack dogs that they still need will have opportunity for their sadism fix by going after those enterprising scofflaws.
Let's hope they don't manage to abolish the IRS, then turn around and have Homeland Security hound out those who might think about not cutting the feds in on transactions. The IRS evolved into a terror agency and Homeland Security is more than poised to fill any power void that changing the tax system would bring.
It is about power. Yet this country attempted to establish itself based on severely limiting just such power. Those who promote it either think the are part of the elite who wields the power or influences officials, or they think if they do everything right no one will bother them.
I suppose that will work for some time if you are a jelly fish. Sooner or later even good little citizens tend to say something unpopular, or want a larger soda, or who knows what. Then they wonder what happened. They happened.
When my stomach feels like iron, I'll go check the talking points on this at moveon.org or huffington post. I'm sure they'll be against undoing the IRS because it comes from the other side. And smashing the other side is more important than right or wrong. Go team.
It would be so cool if a lot of people from both sides realized it is time to squash IRS, which operates without warrants or accountability. It is in the top three of disgraces this nation has tolerated which defy its stated principles. Taxing income is a bad idea anyway. Enforcing this practice by means of an organization with few clear limits and a tendency toward vendetta is a very bad idea.
;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;
Holy smoke!!! Just read an email from the neighborhood info people. A mountain lion ate someone's goat, up the mountain from me. Not very far. It hopped a 7 foot chain link fence. They say there are 2 lions in the general area, and claim the goat one is four feet high? Five feet long, excluding the tail.
I just find the four feet tall part tough to believe. It doesn't sound right but maybe the top of his head is there if he's strutting with his nose in the air. Spiking the football for murdering an innocent. tasty goat.
If you live up here, and your kids are hopeless, now is the time to send them out to explore the mountain. If something happens, no one will pin it on you. Just that ol' mountain lion, and after all, cougars are people too. But they are bullies as well.
''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''
Come on, Mitt. Say it is not true. I saw a headline that said Mitt was planning to rejoin the national dialog. Those are the words they used. I'm not sure what national dialog means, but I know what it is in this context---Mitt wants to see his picture in the paper and wants to muddy mirky waters. No, don't do it.
And please, Bush family, retire the dynasty. These rumblings about Jeb and some nephew Bush are troubling. Political dynasties are not in the best interest of freedom, or much else that is desirable.
.
Monday, May 27, 2013
Dusting off the UnWelcome Mat
So, I'm doing all this gut wrenching soul cleansing work to actually organize the stuff of my life, make my dwelling neat clean, even inviting and hospitable, and now there are very few people I want anywhere near me. My Welcome Mat will be edited to read, "Go Away and Die!". That takes some of the wind out of my sails.
It is good to only know a group of people superficially, so you can assume the best and be blind to their drama and antics. Once you breach the facade the acquaintanceship immediately reaches the point of diminishing returns. Such is the case on Ballistic Mountain.
I found out that the better looking of the two psycho women who tried to create trouble at that party, actually managed to incite violence before the night was through. These people are far too old for this to be understandable or anything beyond sad and pitiful.
Apparently she nabbed some guy on the dance floor and started making out, while her boyfriend sat on the sidelines watching. He got all huffy and instead of taking it out on her he launched a surprise attack on the guy. Punching, rolling on the ground, then the requisite fight break up.
Seriously? At 50 years old or so? Girls just want to have fun. I'm so disgusted that I was there, that my alleged friend, The-Lady-Up_the_hill, did nothing to fend off the insane people trying to use me in some game of manipulation--all directed at controlling the LadyUpTheHill. One short sentence would have done it. She played dumb, and still is. Maybe it isn't an act.
I am glad for my friends K and L and C, with whom I play music up here, but the rest of these people I have no desire to know. C's wife is in the thick of the gossip circle and one of those who likes to annoy single men, and can't resist little sabotage ploys when a single guy is making points with an unattached woman.
It is a sickness I guess, but it is to the point that I have to avoid C in order to avoid his wife, who doesn't grasp the concept of personal boundary. I'll show up somewhere and immediately she'll approach me with a question of the same type as, "So, have you stopped beating your wife?". What can you say? I eventually tell her to piss off, and then there we go. I can't deal with it any more.
I'm sure they all just blame it on alcohol. If you can't drink and handle it, drink alone, locked in a closet or don't drink. Unbelievable.
Oh sorry I slept with your wife/husband/child/dog, but I was drunk. hahahahehehe. Oh, that's OK, you sure were drunk--hahahahehehe. Where's the pepper spray when I need it? Anyone thinks like that needs to be deported, or fumigated or something.
So, newly worked place, and I find I am even more of a fish out of water than usual. At least my good friends in Pt L are in no way like these crazy creatures. K and L aren't either. Neither is C, but his wife is a loose cannon. At least if I fall off of a cliff, there won't be a big mess to clean up at my house. But I am definitely rethinking the idea of being a host. Maybe I'll just be a clean and organized hermit instead.
It is good to only know a group of people superficially, so you can assume the best and be blind to their drama and antics. Once you breach the facade the acquaintanceship immediately reaches the point of diminishing returns. Such is the case on Ballistic Mountain.
I found out that the better looking of the two psycho women who tried to create trouble at that party, actually managed to incite violence before the night was through. These people are far too old for this to be understandable or anything beyond sad and pitiful.
Apparently she nabbed some guy on the dance floor and started making out, while her boyfriend sat on the sidelines watching. He got all huffy and instead of taking it out on her he launched a surprise attack on the guy. Punching, rolling on the ground, then the requisite fight break up.
Seriously? At 50 years old or so? Girls just want to have fun. I'm so disgusted that I was there, that my alleged friend, The-Lady-Up_the_hill, did nothing to fend off the insane people trying to use me in some game of manipulation--all directed at controlling the LadyUpTheHill. One short sentence would have done it. She played dumb, and still is. Maybe it isn't an act.
I am glad for my friends K and L and C, with whom I play music up here, but the rest of these people I have no desire to know. C's wife is in the thick of the gossip circle and one of those who likes to annoy single men, and can't resist little sabotage ploys when a single guy is making points with an unattached woman.
It is a sickness I guess, but it is to the point that I have to avoid C in order to avoid his wife, who doesn't grasp the concept of personal boundary. I'll show up somewhere and immediately she'll approach me with a question of the same type as, "So, have you stopped beating your wife?". What can you say? I eventually tell her to piss off, and then there we go. I can't deal with it any more.
I'm sure they all just blame it on alcohol. If you can't drink and handle it, drink alone, locked in a closet or don't drink. Unbelievable.
Oh sorry I slept with your wife/husband/child/dog, but I was drunk. hahahahehehe. Oh, that's OK, you sure were drunk--hahahahehehe. Where's the pepper spray when I need it? Anyone thinks like that needs to be deported, or fumigated or something.
So, newly worked place, and I find I am even more of a fish out of water than usual. At least my good friends in Pt L are in no way like these crazy creatures. K and L aren't either. Neither is C, but his wife is a loose cannon. At least if I fall off of a cliff, there won't be a big mess to clean up at my house. But I am definitely rethinking the idea of being a host. Maybe I'll just be a clean and organized hermit instead.
Sunday, May 26, 2013
Judgement Days
I'm not sure, but I think all the decades of avoiding looking at the evidence--pictures, writing, etc.--of my life are partly due my lack of acceptance of my failures, and maybe even my victories. Just didn't want the truth, whatever it was.
I still find it hard to be happy that I am as I am, in some ways. But much of that is not any more in my control than the size of my toes. Even though certain things can't be helped, there is still the capability to compensate and improvise. It is probably some kind of moral obligation, but I haven't reasoned that out yet.
Doesn't mean you go to hell for letting your glitches rule, but you do get to live a bit of it. Those who compensate well seem quite happy. Those who look in the mirror and are thrown into an endless WTF? loop tend to wonder why they are where they are and why they are not more productive. That loop is very tough to break.
I discovered a number of letters, written to various members of my family. Must have been in stuff my mother had. They cast some clarity on a few things. Nothing huge, but a shock of sorts. It elevated my already high opinion of my brother. And of my mother. It placed my father in a great position should he ever wanted to prove his own -either insanity or insensitivity combined with extreme self centeredness.
The letters I wrote scream of a very lost 19 year old. I never realized though, that at that early age being alone was a prominent theme in my writing. I had friends but not really. Either I chose the wrong friends for awhile there, or I had no real friends. End result is the same. Wrong friends aren't friends.
I do just that sometimes now. I figured that out.
When grownups throw a party with more scheming shallow drama, a general lack of ability to hold their liquor, a less inspiring bands than we did in high school---outside of official school policy and rules, and outside of their supervision--it is a boring, maddening scene,
Our events were 100% pulled off by clubs of about 30 15 to 18 year old ne'er do wells. I actually hated being a member, but I handled getting some great events put together. I liked that, plus some girls vied for a date to some of those things. I was too dumb to work it well to my advantage though. I had a better chance getting a date if I pretended to be someone else. Except when I had a girl friend. Maybe that is why 11th grade was my favorite. Same girl the whole year.
The last one was on Viscaya's courtyard--open bar, Bahamian bar tender, two bands so there was never a long break. It was one friend's connections that got us that venue. I got two bands because the one year I didn't manage things the band did not show. I believe it was due to Dion S's incompetence.
I took no chances on that Viscaya thing. It was a big end of the year party. My prom. I didn't go to the regular prom. Too far out of the loop already. Anyway this thing was formal, and we sold tickets to selected people and had roughly a hundred people. At least.
I seriously doubt that Coral Gables High or Southwest or Killian or even Palmetto have ever seen a party like that. No fights, to my knowledge, and the only trouble maker was my date. I couldn't handle drunks even when I was drinking. Sort of like the laziest guy in the room ranting about having no tolerance for laziness, telling others to get up and do something.
Here's a tip for those planning a big hooplah event. Line up someone you really want to be with to accompany you. Nothing worse than putting on a great project and being stuck with Lillie Lushyeller.
She wasn't that bad. I think the brothers and her catholicism intimidated me at the time. It's all coming back.
See what unpacking is doing? I do not exaggerate when I say decades of neglect. It doesn't hurt to look at it and deal with it now. Easy to toss out what isn't relevant to what I need, have space for or want. And I have to have a reasonably good reason for wanting.
You know, that stupid lush lady hurt my feelings. No way I can totally explain the night of the fighting Mexican potato, the she-devil, the banshee and the zombie. Doesn't sound so bad until you realize that your goal on this particular mission is to get along with them and avoid violence. Now, it is not so easy. Rules of engagement change the game.
some of the above refers to the previous post which is probably just a different shade of vague
i won't tell you where we got the money--not completely. We sold things at the swap meet quite a lot. I created the grab bag special. We'd just put a selection of trinkets in a paper bag and sell it for a dollar, but they couldn't see what was in it.
They were happy with it and the grab bag special was a good seller. We always included something worthwhile. I have to say, some of the swap meet experiences may have been my happiest in high school. And I haven't thought of it for many years. Just this minute. I never allowed myself to dwell on it long enough to realize I enjoyed it, and was a crazy little businessman at times. Holy smoke.
That girl-up-the-hill surprised me. Not in a good way. Crumby surprises just don't work.
I still find it hard to be happy that I am as I am, in some ways. But much of that is not any more in my control than the size of my toes. Even though certain things can't be helped, there is still the capability to compensate and improvise. It is probably some kind of moral obligation, but I haven't reasoned that out yet.
Doesn't mean you go to hell for letting your glitches rule, but you do get to live a bit of it. Those who compensate well seem quite happy. Those who look in the mirror and are thrown into an endless WTF? loop tend to wonder why they are where they are and why they are not more productive. That loop is very tough to break.
I discovered a number of letters, written to various members of my family. Must have been in stuff my mother had. They cast some clarity on a few things. Nothing huge, but a shock of sorts. It elevated my already high opinion of my brother. And of my mother. It placed my father in a great position should he ever wanted to prove his own -either insanity or insensitivity combined with extreme self centeredness.
The letters I wrote scream of a very lost 19 year old. I never realized though, that at that early age being alone was a prominent theme in my writing. I had friends but not really. Either I chose the wrong friends for awhile there, or I had no real friends. End result is the same. Wrong friends aren't friends.
I do just that sometimes now. I figured that out.
When grownups throw a party with more scheming shallow drama, a general lack of ability to hold their liquor, a less inspiring bands than we did in high school---outside of official school policy and rules, and outside of their supervision--it is a boring, maddening scene,
Our events were 100% pulled off by clubs of about 30 15 to 18 year old ne'er do wells. I actually hated being a member, but I handled getting some great events put together. I liked that, plus some girls vied for a date to some of those things. I was too dumb to work it well to my advantage though. I had a better chance getting a date if I pretended to be someone else. Except when I had a girl friend. Maybe that is why 11th grade was my favorite. Same girl the whole year.
The last one was on Viscaya's courtyard--open bar, Bahamian bar tender, two bands so there was never a long break. It was one friend's connections that got us that venue. I got two bands because the one year I didn't manage things the band did not show. I believe it was due to Dion S's incompetence.
I took no chances on that Viscaya thing. It was a big end of the year party. My prom. I didn't go to the regular prom. Too far out of the loop already. Anyway this thing was formal, and we sold tickets to selected people and had roughly a hundred people. At least.
I seriously doubt that Coral Gables High or Southwest or Killian or even Palmetto have ever seen a party like that. No fights, to my knowledge, and the only trouble maker was my date. I couldn't handle drunks even when I was drinking. Sort of like the laziest guy in the room ranting about having no tolerance for laziness, telling others to get up and do something.
Here's a tip for those planning a big hooplah event. Line up someone you really want to be with to accompany you. Nothing worse than putting on a great project and being stuck with Lillie Lushyeller.
She wasn't that bad. I think the brothers and her catholicism intimidated me at the time. It's all coming back.
See what unpacking is doing? I do not exaggerate when I say decades of neglect. It doesn't hurt to look at it and deal with it now. Easy to toss out what isn't relevant to what I need, have space for or want. And I have to have a reasonably good reason for wanting.
You know, that stupid lush lady hurt my feelings. No way I can totally explain the night of the fighting Mexican potato, the she-devil, the banshee and the zombie. Doesn't sound so bad until you realize that your goal on this particular mission is to get along with them and avoid violence. Now, it is not so easy. Rules of engagement change the game.
some of the above refers to the previous post which is probably just a different shade of vague
i won't tell you where we got the money--not completely. We sold things at the swap meet quite a lot. I created the grab bag special. We'd just put a selection of trinkets in a paper bag and sell it for a dollar, but they couldn't see what was in it.
They were happy with it and the grab bag special was a good seller. We always included something worthwhile. I have to say, some of the swap meet experiences may have been my happiest in high school. And I haven't thought of it for many years. Just this minute. I never allowed myself to dwell on it long enough to realize I enjoyed it, and was a crazy little businessman at times. Holy smoke.
That girl-up-the-hill surprised me. Not in a good way. Crumby surprises just don't work.
Times Feel Like They Be Changing
Typically, as I whittle this chaos down and begin to bring some neatness and organization into my life, I feel like running away. To what, I don't know.
I went to the annual big wingding at the winery which is about 2 miles further up or over this mountain. All narrow, winding dirt road, of course. Many people show up to this thing, with several of them camping and the whole bit.
They had 3 bands play. They were OK but didn't spark anything in me.
Drunks up the yingyang. Banshee women. Miniature mexican shaped like a potato seemed to want to fight for unknown reasons. I slipped that one, fortunately. The screwed up girl-up-the-hill antics and the odd women who injected themselves in our business made the evening and party one of the worst times since arriving in SD.
I actually liked the up-the-hill girl, whom I'll refer to as That F'ing Idiot. No, too long. Witless. Pretty Witless, the waste of my time.
I'm not sure what it is about this area, but in this general age range which includes those 25 years younger, married women will fall all over themselves to sabotage any single man they spot getting close to a single woman. I've watched it happen to others, and experienced it happen to me.
All I have to say is I do not care if people drink, but if you act like an obnoxious creep when you do, I still hold you responsible. After last night, if I never talk to one single even just tipsy person, I'll be happy.
So many drama magnets and controlling, boundary jumping busy bodies up here, it is scary. That is why I do not go out of my way to meet too many people up here. It makes me want to move to Texas or somewhere. Maybe Seattle. Maybe the moon.
But this is still the best cabin or cottage I've seen in this county. Up and over the hill is out of sight. Those people back there are not so close.
Uh oh. I just figured it out.
I'll bet most of the people up here are required by law to dwell a certain distance from anyone else. Like a restraining order on behalf of the rest of humanity. That would explain a lot.
I went to the annual big wingding at the winery which is about 2 miles further up or over this mountain. All narrow, winding dirt road, of course. Many people show up to this thing, with several of them camping and the whole bit.
They had 3 bands play. They were OK but didn't spark anything in me.
Drunks up the yingyang. Banshee women. Miniature mexican shaped like a potato seemed to want to fight for unknown reasons. I slipped that one, fortunately. The screwed up girl-up-the-hill antics and the odd women who injected themselves in our business made the evening and party one of the worst times since arriving in SD.
I actually liked the up-the-hill girl, whom I'll refer to as That F'ing Idiot. No, too long. Witless. Pretty Witless, the waste of my time.
I'm not sure what it is about this area, but in this general age range which includes those 25 years younger, married women will fall all over themselves to sabotage any single man they spot getting close to a single woman. I've watched it happen to others, and experienced it happen to me.
All I have to say is I do not care if people drink, but if you act like an obnoxious creep when you do, I still hold you responsible. After last night, if I never talk to one single even just tipsy person, I'll be happy.
So many drama magnets and controlling, boundary jumping busy bodies up here, it is scary. That is why I do not go out of my way to meet too many people up here. It makes me want to move to Texas or somewhere. Maybe Seattle. Maybe the moon.
But this is still the best cabin or cottage I've seen in this county. Up and over the hill is out of sight. Those people back there are not so close.
Uh oh. I just figured it out.
I'll bet most of the people up here are required by law to dwell a certain distance from anyone else. Like a restraining order on behalf of the rest of humanity. That would explain a lot.
Friday, May 24, 2013
Little Things; peace on earth, goodwill to alpine
It has become clear over the last few years that, even if I never unpacked, I'd still need more place for clothes and errant textiles. Also, it has come to my attention that an amp or speaker cab is not the best choice of bedside table.
Having narrowly escaped TV disposal hell Thanks to some nifty ladies at the brand new Alpine Goodwill facility, I decided to go back and see what was for sale. They just opened yesterday.
Normally you have to take anything like a TV or computer to Santee which is down there by El Cajon. A long enough way, for sure. They opted to let me leave it and said they'd get a truck to take it to their electronics donation facility.
Little things. Those dwelling in, or in the process of escaping, negligent chaos appreciate any degree of relief and improvement. It is affecting me in other ways too. I'm beginning to address certain other aspects of my life and well being. I think I'd be hard pressed to even gather the materials used in building this piece for less than $35. It matches the exposed beams and other cool features of this coolest of all cabins or cottages.
Very soon I will actually host some people here. My plan is to ask a few pretty girls over, pretending that I am having others show up, too, but I won't invite anyone else. Then I'll mope and shed a tear or two because no one showed up and they must not like me. The ladies will then do their best to comfort me. Winning!!!!
what? is that wrong?
Having narrowly escaped TV disposal hell Thanks to some nifty ladies at the brand new Alpine Goodwill facility, I decided to go back and see what was for sale. They just opened yesterday.
Normally you have to take anything like a TV or computer to Santee which is down there by El Cajon. A long enough way, for sure. They opted to let me leave it and said they'd get a truck to take it to their electronics donation facility.
I found the perfect dresser/ bedside table. It is the perfect size for my needs. Whoever built it did a good job, and even engraved his/her name under one of the drawers. I think it says Raphael. It is hard to read. It is all wood and shows no signs of use. I thought $35 was a fair price. I hope so.
Little things. Those dwelling in, or in the process of escaping, negligent chaos appreciate any degree of relief and improvement. It is affecting me in other ways too. I'm beginning to address certain other aspects of my life and well being. I think I'd be hard pressed to even gather the materials used in building this piece for less than $35. It matches the exposed beams and other cool features of this coolest of all cabins or cottages.
Very soon I will actually host some people here. My plan is to ask a few pretty girls over, pretending that I am having others show up, too, but I won't invite anyone else. Then I'll mope and shed a tear or two because no one showed up and they must not like me. The ladies will then do their best to comfort me. Winning!!!!
what? is that wrong?
Documents Found
Good news. I'm now a documented citizen (or whatever euphemism is now being used for that word). I found not only my birth certificate but also my social security card. You'll never guess where they were.
The back wall is now free of towering stacks of boxes. The birth certificate was in a notebook-like thing in a box with a router table, one black shoe, and other related items. Reminds me of an IQ test; what comes next in this series? 1 black shoe, 1 router table, 3 harmonicas, ?
Your guess is as good as mine.
In the process I found things that I had never seen. It was an eye opening experience, mostly regarding family matters.
Who knew I had some decent stainless steel pans?
By measure of volume, I'd say a much is going out the door as is being saved, and that will probably shrink by a third before it is all over.
I found notebooks of writing; mostly lyrics, but not completely. There are ideas, topical satire things, nonsense, etc. Most of it is far more entertaining than I'd expect.
Best f all, I found my Humanitarian Certificate; a certificate of appreciation from the City of Miami for unknown effort after a hurricane. It proves I have a heart. I know how the scarecrow from Wizard of Oz felt.
The back wall is now free of towering stacks of boxes. The birth certificate was in a notebook-like thing in a box with a router table, one black shoe, and other related items. Reminds me of an IQ test; what comes next in this series? 1 black shoe, 1 router table, 3 harmonicas, ?
Your guess is as good as mine.
In the process I found things that I had never seen. It was an eye opening experience, mostly regarding family matters.
Who knew I had some decent stainless steel pans?
By measure of volume, I'd say a much is going out the door as is being saved, and that will probably shrink by a third before it is all over.
I found notebooks of writing; mostly lyrics, but not completely. There are ideas, topical satire things, nonsense, etc. Most of it is far more entertaining than I'd expect.
Best f all, I found my Humanitarian Certificate; a certificate of appreciation from the City of Miami for unknown effort after a hurricane. It proves I have a heart. I know how the scarecrow from Wizard of Oz felt.
Wednesday, May 22, 2013
Dreams of My President
If you're headed to hell, better bring an overcoat.
Never in a million years would I expect to have a dream in which I pal around with Barack Obama. But I did. It was one of those other dimensional experiences which seemed real and natural, even though the rules of the place are a bit different than the normal awake condition that most people enjoy.
So, we're at an unknown event in the evening. It was a bit like the Cooper-Young street festival in Memphis. As a matter of fact my impression was that we were in Memphis.
It is unclear how I got tangled up in this, but at some point Barack said something, "Hey, can you come with me?" OK, guess so.
Without any real effort, the secret service and all that was ditched. He acted like he wanted to cruise the crowd without notice. He seemed a little confused. It was the stuttering Barack, sort of.
Even though he said he wanted to blend in he kept posing doing that head back, raised chin thing he does. At one point a woman catches our attention saying, "Hey, don't I know you from somewhere?".
It was great, because Barack did that pose thing and began mumbling, "Well, as a matter of fact...". She cut him off, looking at me she said, "No, I me you." Speaking to me. His dejection was obvious.
I just told her, "I hope so!", and we went on making our way through the crowds and booths and such. He was dead set on making it to a place he knew that sold loaves of cheese bread. Don't ask me, I didn't really get it then and I don't get it now.
The Pres wanted that cheese bread in the worst way. We were getting along well, so I was glad to accompany him on this mission. It must have been at that point that I said, "Mr. President, you know I don't agree with much of your agenda, if any." I did use the formal title there. "You really ought to quit all the racial divide. You know it is BS and causing harm, don't you?"
He shrugged in a gesture of "yea, what can you do?", as if it was just his job. Like saying you don't like shoveling horse manure, but that's just the way it goes when you are in the working with horses business. Oddly, I felt no resentment from him regarding my views. I think he envied me for having views, but really hoped I'd shut up about it.
He seemed uninterested, and unsure if he liked his job. He gave off a vibe like the job was an unpleasant chore---can't blame him for that.
My impression was that he really had no personal passion regarding political philosophy. Just did whatever it took to satisfy whatever powers, and to keep the job. He said he wanted to escape all that for now. He was on a quest for a loaf of cheese bread.
So we made our way into the somewhat crowded cheese bread pavilion. I think he knew the lady running the place but she didn't make a big deal or start in with a bunch of "Oh, Mr President!" fawning.
He said to me, "Get whatever you want. I'm president so I can handle it. But don't get more than ten dollar's worth." Okey dokey. I told him I wanted nothing but he insisted.
He got his loaf of cheese bread and headed out the side door while I was getting my cup of coffee, and a loaf of cheese bread. That is all they sold, cheese bread by the loaf and drinks. I took one piece of bread from the loaf and gave the rest to a homeless looking character.
When I went out the side door, it was dark and looked like an alley. Barack had chosen a path off the main thoroughfare where the crowds milled about.
There were three guys harassing him for money. Black guy, black hispanic, and a guy of unknown species. The black guy was the leader and he pulled a gun and had it pointed at Obama' chest. (am I a filthy racist because there was a villain or two of color in my dream? Most of my dream villains are colorless)
So, Barack's mumbling and clearly surprised, "Uh, guys, you know I'm president, right?" And the gun guy answers with something like "F you, and I'm John Lennon. You gonna be a dead mother f'ing president!"
They had no clue who he was.
It all happened real quick--the talking. When I saw the gun pointed at him, and sensed the situation was escalating, all I could think was "nobody is going to shoot the President with me around". I dove between them, hoping to push the gun arm so he couldn't shoot Barack and maybe not shoot me.
I said, "Oh, Hell No!" and dove. Don't know if I had to take a bullet or not. The dream ended in mid air, just as I reached them, with my flying body arriving between the two.
It felt like I knew him and although I don't like anything I can think of that he's pushed, I had no qualms about trying to protect the guy. More because he's president than not. I'd have been less reckless with my own survival had he not been the president. I was pissed off at the punks. The gunman's sidekicks were just hanging back being goofy thugs.
What it means, I do not know. I guess it means don't be playing gangsta. Just let the guy have his loaf of cheese bread, or I'll attack.
After that dream, I feel like I'm an old acquaintance of the POTUS. He's an odd duck but not intentionally evil, or good. Kind of a neutral sort, just going through the motions because he has no choice. That was my impression, and we're old cheese-bread-loaf-quest buddies, so my insight must be valid.
It is strange to have such a vivid dream, and remember it all. I rarely experience that these days. And, though I have a history of rescue dreams, they usually involve a lady love or someone that means more to me than my pal Barack. I guess now that we're buds, I am not so indifferent toward him, though he'll never get my vote.
Never in a million years would I expect to have a dream in which I pal around with Barack Obama. But I did. It was one of those other dimensional experiences which seemed real and natural, even though the rules of the place are a bit different than the normal awake condition that most people enjoy.
(he wasn't wearing a suit on our adventure. khaki shirt. hey I was there. It happened)
So, we're at an unknown event in the evening. It was a bit like the Cooper-Young street festival in Memphis. As a matter of fact my impression was that we were in Memphis.
It is unclear how I got tangled up in this, but at some point Barack said something, "Hey, can you come with me?" OK, guess so.
Without any real effort, the secret service and all that was ditched. He acted like he wanted to cruise the crowd without notice. He seemed a little confused. It was the stuttering Barack, sort of.
Even though he said he wanted to blend in he kept posing doing that head back, raised chin thing he does. At one point a woman catches our attention saying, "Hey, don't I know you from somewhere?".
It was great, because Barack did that pose thing and began mumbling, "Well, as a matter of fact...". She cut him off, looking at me she said, "No, I me you." Speaking to me. His dejection was obvious.
I just told her, "I hope so!", and we went on making our way through the crowds and booths and such. He was dead set on making it to a place he knew that sold loaves of cheese bread. Don't ask me, I didn't really get it then and I don't get it now.
The Pres wanted that cheese bread in the worst way. We were getting along well, so I was glad to accompany him on this mission. It must have been at that point that I said, "Mr. President, you know I don't agree with much of your agenda, if any." I did use the formal title there. "You really ought to quit all the racial divide. You know it is BS and causing harm, don't you?"
He shrugged in a gesture of "yea, what can you do?", as if it was just his job. Like saying you don't like shoveling horse manure, but that's just the way it goes when you are in the working with horses business. Oddly, I felt no resentment from him regarding my views. I think he envied me for having views, but really hoped I'd shut up about it.
He seemed uninterested, and unsure if he liked his job. He gave off a vibe like the job was an unpleasant chore---can't blame him for that.
My impression was that he really had no personal passion regarding political philosophy. Just did whatever it took to satisfy whatever powers, and to keep the job. He said he wanted to escape all that for now. He was on a quest for a loaf of cheese bread.
So we made our way into the somewhat crowded cheese bread pavilion. I think he knew the lady running the place but she didn't make a big deal or start in with a bunch of "Oh, Mr President!" fawning.
He said to me, "Get whatever you want. I'm president so I can handle it. But don't get more than ten dollar's worth." Okey dokey. I told him I wanted nothing but he insisted.
He got his loaf of cheese bread and headed out the side door while I was getting my cup of coffee, and a loaf of cheese bread. That is all they sold, cheese bread by the loaf and drinks. I took one piece of bread from the loaf and gave the rest to a homeless looking character.
When I went out the side door, it was dark and looked like an alley. Barack had chosen a path off the main thoroughfare where the crowds milled about.
There were three guys harassing him for money. Black guy, black hispanic, and a guy of unknown species. The black guy was the leader and he pulled a gun and had it pointed at Obama' chest. (am I a filthy racist because there was a villain or two of color in my dream? Most of my dream villains are colorless)
So, Barack's mumbling and clearly surprised, "Uh, guys, you know I'm president, right?" And the gun guy answers with something like "F you, and I'm John Lennon. You gonna be a dead mother f'ing president!"
They had no clue who he was.
It all happened real quick--the talking. When I saw the gun pointed at him, and sensed the situation was escalating, all I could think was "nobody is going to shoot the President with me around". I dove between them, hoping to push the gun arm so he couldn't shoot Barack and maybe not shoot me.
I said, "Oh, Hell No!" and dove. Don't know if I had to take a bullet or not. The dream ended in mid air, just as I reached them, with my flying body arriving between the two.
It felt like I knew him and although I don't like anything I can think of that he's pushed, I had no qualms about trying to protect the guy. More because he's president than not. I'd have been less reckless with my own survival had he not been the president. I was pissed off at the punks. The gunman's sidekicks were just hanging back being goofy thugs.
What it means, I do not know. I guess it means don't be playing gangsta. Just let the guy have his loaf of cheese bread, or I'll attack.
After that dream, I feel like I'm an old acquaintance of the POTUS. He's an odd duck but not intentionally evil, or good. Kind of a neutral sort, just going through the motions because he has no choice. That was my impression, and we're old cheese-bread-loaf-quest buddies, so my insight must be valid.
It is strange to have such a vivid dream, and remember it all. I rarely experience that these days. And, though I have a history of rescue dreams, they usually involve a lady love or someone that means more to me than my pal Barack. I guess now that we're buds, I am not so indifferent toward him, though he'll never get my vote.
Thursday, May 16, 2013
The Magic and Surprise of Unpacking Five Years After Moving In
In my case, many things have gone unsorted for a decade or two, at least. Mostly things have been in the box for about five years.
It used to be that I'd start to sort, see an item that brought up something from the past and it would make me sad or remorseful to the point that I just couldn't face it, so I'd stop and leave it for another time. That resulted in chaotic accumulation. And I'd be all down because I couldn't make myself touch it.
I couldn't look at opportunities ignored or family sadness and insanity or the way I felt at some age like 15. Just could not do it. It seemed to get worse over the years. And I never found the right person to help when it came to the minute details. I had to have help to even touch the boxes or the clutter, which is probably another issue.
Poor Joel ended up getting me moved in and out of places in NC two or three times. But those boxes went unsorted. I needed a trusted woman who cared enough not to be too annoyed and that never happened. Way it is when you have unusual defects that make no sense.
It may have been my own fear of letting them in that much, but I never felt I was in the presence of one who wouldn't be judging, even if trying to hide the fact. Positions reversed, I don't know that I could deal with it. Positions aren't reversed so there it is. [update: I may have had such a woman friend but wasn't there yet, now that I reflect on it] I've been stuck with me, and it has been my--I don't know--Moby Dick or something. Damned swimming mammal that tried to eat me alive.
Well, I am happy to say that I have willed myself into a different mental mode. It is a psychic change for sure. I spent the day dealing with everything from very macabre last will and testament sort of papers, written by me and witnessed by me, to sentimental stuff of deceased loved ones, you name it.
Not a shred of fear, regret, pain, or nostalgia. Actually, the scariest thing I found--really scary, macabre and worrisome sent me into almost uncontrollable laughter. (Hey JT, it was my piece of corn under the fridge)
This is trivia to most people, and hopefully would not even compute, but it was like suddenly being able to walk after thirty years confined to a wheel chair to me. All I felt was how lucky I am. I did have a couple of trusted friends in the mix. K and M. K knew me when I was 16, and she even gets why I laughed at something which painted a very dark picture of where I was a year before arriving on this coast.
M gets it too and he's only known me since I arrived here. No one else could possibly have helped, and had a blast doing it. And they wanted to. They've wanted to for maybe three or four years. Is that crazy or what? I'm way older and should be set in my ways and capable of whatever it is that high class neat people do. I may be genetically predisposed to disorganization, but no one in my family ever approached my flat out, long term negligence.
There is more to be done and they're returning Sunday whether I like or not. That will be good. I was freaking out before they arrived today--a little. I wanted to back out but had set it up so I couldn't. Now I don't have that going on.
With me it is the most basic life maintenance and organization that throws me for a loop. And it is the simplest of things that leaves me elated. Maybe that is good because the simple stuff is not a strain on the bank account.
Who knew that I bought a jacket on my ill fated fiasco of a trip to New Zealand? I did, and I had no idea. Also I have a Live! From Sun Studios---the Memphis Snake Doctors tee shirt. I didn't know that. And I did the art work. You can bet I'll wear that next time I'm at a musical gathering. "Oh, that? Yea, I recorded at Sun, same room where Elvis played".
That was cool, but I am so glad I got out of Memphis. Few people know it is either a suburb of Hell, or else Purgatory. But that isn't to say there aren't some cool people there. Don't know how they do it. And I did live in the best of all possible places in the best of all possible neighborhoods--in my book. Wasn't enough.
I'd say the people out here, especially in Alpine and that region, have no idea how good they have it. But even the lifers do seem to know. Weird when people actually like it where they live. Never experienced so much of that before.
====so far six Large garbage bags in dumpster, mostly from things culled out of boxes with helpful labels like "John" and "textiles". No container has only one type of thing. There were harmonicas, kitchen utensils, towels, tee shirts, and notebooks in one of the 'textiles' boxes. No one named John is in the John bin. It was time to trash that tax thing from 1996. Really, I wasn't in love with that document even when it was timely, why keep it another 15 or 20 years?
It used to be that I'd start to sort, see an item that brought up something from the past and it would make me sad or remorseful to the point that I just couldn't face it, so I'd stop and leave it for another time. That resulted in chaotic accumulation. And I'd be all down because I couldn't make myself touch it.
I couldn't look at opportunities ignored or family sadness and insanity or the way I felt at some age like 15. Just could not do it. It seemed to get worse over the years. And I never found the right person to help when it came to the minute details. I had to have help to even touch the boxes or the clutter, which is probably another issue.
Poor Joel ended up getting me moved in and out of places in NC two or three times. But those boxes went unsorted. I needed a trusted woman who cared enough not to be too annoyed and that never happened. Way it is when you have unusual defects that make no sense.
It may have been my own fear of letting them in that much, but I never felt I was in the presence of one who wouldn't be judging, even if trying to hide the fact. Positions reversed, I don't know that I could deal with it. Positions aren't reversed so there it is. [update: I may have had such a woman friend but wasn't there yet, now that I reflect on it] I've been stuck with me, and it has been my--I don't know--Moby Dick or something. Damned swimming mammal that tried to eat me alive.
Well, I am happy to say that I have willed myself into a different mental mode. It is a psychic change for sure. I spent the day dealing with everything from very macabre last will and testament sort of papers, written by me and witnessed by me, to sentimental stuff of deceased loved ones, you name it.
Not a shred of fear, regret, pain, or nostalgia. Actually, the scariest thing I found--really scary, macabre and worrisome sent me into almost uncontrollable laughter. (Hey JT, it was my piece of corn under the fridge)
This is trivia to most people, and hopefully would not even compute, but it was like suddenly being able to walk after thirty years confined to a wheel chair to me. All I felt was how lucky I am. I did have a couple of trusted friends in the mix. K and M. K knew me when I was 16, and she even gets why I laughed at something which painted a very dark picture of where I was a year before arriving on this coast.
M gets it too and he's only known me since I arrived here. No one else could possibly have helped, and had a blast doing it. And they wanted to. They've wanted to for maybe three or four years. Is that crazy or what? I'm way older and should be set in my ways and capable of whatever it is that high class neat people do. I may be genetically predisposed to disorganization, but no one in my family ever approached my flat out, long term negligence.
There is more to be done and they're returning Sunday whether I like or not. That will be good. I was freaking out before they arrived today--a little. I wanted to back out but had set it up so I couldn't. Now I don't have that going on.
With me it is the most basic life maintenance and organization that throws me for a loop. And it is the simplest of things that leaves me elated. Maybe that is good because the simple stuff is not a strain on the bank account.
Who knew that I bought a jacket on my ill fated fiasco of a trip to New Zealand? I did, and I had no idea. Also I have a Live! From Sun Studios---the Memphis Snake Doctors tee shirt. I didn't know that. And I did the art work. You can bet I'll wear that next time I'm at a musical gathering. "Oh, that? Yea, I recorded at Sun, same room where Elvis played".
That was cool, but I am so glad I got out of Memphis. Few people know it is either a suburb of Hell, or else Purgatory. But that isn't to say there aren't some cool people there. Don't know how they do it. And I did live in the best of all possible places in the best of all possible neighborhoods--in my book. Wasn't enough.
I'd say the people out here, especially in Alpine and that region, have no idea how good they have it. But even the lifers do seem to know. Weird when people actually like it where they live. Never experienced so much of that before.
====so far six Large garbage bags in dumpster, mostly from things culled out of boxes with helpful labels like "John" and "textiles". No container has only one type of thing. There were harmonicas, kitchen utensils, towels, tee shirts, and notebooks in one of the 'textiles' boxes. No one named John is in the John bin. It was time to trash that tax thing from 1996. Really, I wasn't in love with that document even when it was timely, why keep it another 15 or 20 years?
People With Way More Credentials and Brains Than I
Often I write rants here. I've been accused of making baseless assertions which contradict the view of people who have studied more, achieved great academic success, degrees etc. Apparently I'm undaunted.
In the realm of energy production and the way that industry has evolved, my suggestions of how that would evolve over time have proven accurate. That was back in the late seventies.
I won't belabor the specifics because I kind of enjoy being told I don't know anything, that people with far more experience and credentials know better.
Regarding the IRS, it's the same thing. I re-read my last post and I kind of like it. Except it is the kind of talk that can get one put on a list these days. Freedom of expression ain't what it once was. National security, you know. I'm sure many people are aware that national security is an excuse against which you cannot argue.
Failing that, depending upon whom you criticize, it can be called hate speech or you're racist and talking in "dog whistles" to your secret racist buddies. Hate speech is a great one. Geez. Some people are hateful. Generally they fall of their own weight. Sometimes the haters are the ones accusing the truthful of hate speech. You never know. Censorship is like that.
The national security catch all excuse can be used for illegal snooping, as in the AP phone records scandal, or any abuse of power. And because it is national security which requires high level secrecy, you can't insist on the truth. "You can't handle the truth!", and you won't get it. Sorry. Expect more of that, too.
When I created a method for controlling the harmful by-product of running cotton from the bale to the finished product, cotton dust, I was told my method would not work.
No one could get the levels down to a point which was unlikely to cause the deadly condition known as brown lung. I guaranteed that I could, and in the very dirtiest, hardest to treat room in a cotton mill. And it was proven by independent tests to not only meet the target levels, but to exceed it by over 10%. When I say exceed, that is on the down side. Levels averaged over 10% under the level they all said I couldn't hit.
By the way, I actually got a minor study run in NC State's textile lab. I worked with a doctoral candidate. End result--the head of the department wanted me to come there and get my doctorate in textile science. I liked that guy. At the time, NC State was the top, cutting edge school in the world in that field. I think maybe Clemson was right up there too.
There were some very successful companies in that field who employed engineers and hotshots with far more experience, and much higher levels of education than I ever achieved. I guess they knew better and I was irrational and arrogant to think I knew better. They'd spent their lives doing this. Who did I think I was? I was only 26. Young punk kid, wet behind the ears, blablabla.
Well, they did know things I didn't. They knew about cronyism, government, and how to play the game and put on the show for public consumption. I was innocent and naive. But no one can change the fact that I was right. And I have proof, and there were witnesses.
The point is, many a scientist, PhD, government "professional", whatever, can be wrong despite credentials and experience. I respect what it takes to get those credentials, all the hard work. All of that. But those things do not necessarily prove a point. Often those people do wonderful things, with the exception of the government professionals.
This is the USA. Never were the terms professional and politician supposed to be linked together. It is a sure recipe for destruction of a nation, and in our case, a culture.
No, I decided I do not care that these brilliant people should have a better idea of how it should be than I do. If I strongly believe they don't, I'll trust myself.
You know who I'm talking to here, don't you homeboy?
hahahahahahahahahaha
I have to tell you, nothing was more satisfying than the mill president, who decided I may have something real, coming back from an industry wide conference on cotton dust control telling me how they all said my scheme was impossible nonsense, and then to see the results of the independent testing prove I was right.
The case of a runaway state is different. I would love to be wrong. But I am not. The trap for many bright people is that they think they can make it all work like a charm, if only they have the authority. And the other smart people who back them somehow see themselves as part of the benevolent elite, too. The inescapable truth, that when tax funded entities control choice and resources, injustices and cronyism will and do occur, is simply ignored. They mean well, but they got it wrong.
I guess I just had to make a bit of a case for why telling me I'm arrogant to question and suggest the things I do does not go far in convincing me to back off.
I do love how that IRS guy got thrown under the bus, while the one who probably should be under the bus, other than the head of the executive branch, ended up a head of the IRS department that is supposed to enforce the health care system. If nothing else, it is getting interesting, and it is a good study in how to get out of hot water even when you are caught red handed.
Who you gonna believe; me or your lying eyes? (you know that reference right? The guy gets caught in bed with another woman--or visa versa--and he says what woman, no woman here. Who you gonna believe, etc)
Oh, and by the way, the reason the US does not manufacture textile and cotton goods like they used to is more the result of crony business-government doings than slave labor in China. Certain corporations benefitted, others were crushed. That is how it is done. And the spin for the public sounds air tight logical, but it is not fabricated using truth.
But, hey. A lot smarter people than me say different.
so there
In the realm of energy production and the way that industry has evolved, my suggestions of how that would evolve over time have proven accurate. That was back in the late seventies.
I won't belabor the specifics because I kind of enjoy being told I don't know anything, that people with far more experience and credentials know better.
Regarding the IRS, it's the same thing. I re-read my last post and I kind of like it. Except it is the kind of talk that can get one put on a list these days. Freedom of expression ain't what it once was. National security, you know. I'm sure many people are aware that national security is an excuse against which you cannot argue.
Failing that, depending upon whom you criticize, it can be called hate speech or you're racist and talking in "dog whistles" to your secret racist buddies. Hate speech is a great one. Geez. Some people are hateful. Generally they fall of their own weight. Sometimes the haters are the ones accusing the truthful of hate speech. You never know. Censorship is like that.
The national security catch all excuse can be used for illegal snooping, as in the AP phone records scandal, or any abuse of power. And because it is national security which requires high level secrecy, you can't insist on the truth. "You can't handle the truth!", and you won't get it. Sorry. Expect more of that, too.
When I created a method for controlling the harmful by-product of running cotton from the bale to the finished product, cotton dust, I was told my method would not work.
No one could get the levels down to a point which was unlikely to cause the deadly condition known as brown lung. I guaranteed that I could, and in the very dirtiest, hardest to treat room in a cotton mill. And it was proven by independent tests to not only meet the target levels, but to exceed it by over 10%. When I say exceed, that is on the down side. Levels averaged over 10% under the level they all said I couldn't hit.
By the way, I actually got a minor study run in NC State's textile lab. I worked with a doctoral candidate. End result--the head of the department wanted me to come there and get my doctorate in textile science. I liked that guy. At the time, NC State was the top, cutting edge school in the world in that field. I think maybe Clemson was right up there too.
There were some very successful companies in that field who employed engineers and hotshots with far more experience, and much higher levels of education than I ever achieved. I guess they knew better and I was irrational and arrogant to think I knew better. They'd spent their lives doing this. Who did I think I was? I was only 26. Young punk kid, wet behind the ears, blablabla.
Well, they did know things I didn't. They knew about cronyism, government, and how to play the game and put on the show for public consumption. I was innocent and naive. But no one can change the fact that I was right. And I have proof, and there were witnesses.
The point is, many a scientist, PhD, government "professional", whatever, can be wrong despite credentials and experience. I respect what it takes to get those credentials, all the hard work. All of that. But those things do not necessarily prove a point. Often those people do wonderful things, with the exception of the government professionals.
This is the USA. Never were the terms professional and politician supposed to be linked together. It is a sure recipe for destruction of a nation, and in our case, a culture.
No, I decided I do not care that these brilliant people should have a better idea of how it should be than I do. If I strongly believe they don't, I'll trust myself.
You know who I'm talking to here, don't you homeboy?
hahahahahahahahahaha
I have to tell you, nothing was more satisfying than the mill president, who decided I may have something real, coming back from an industry wide conference on cotton dust control telling me how they all said my scheme was impossible nonsense, and then to see the results of the independent testing prove I was right.
The case of a runaway state is different. I would love to be wrong. But I am not. The trap for many bright people is that they think they can make it all work like a charm, if only they have the authority. And the other smart people who back them somehow see themselves as part of the benevolent elite, too. The inescapable truth, that when tax funded entities control choice and resources, injustices and cronyism will and do occur, is simply ignored. They mean well, but they got it wrong.
I guess I just had to make a bit of a case for why telling me I'm arrogant to question and suggest the things I do does not go far in convincing me to back off.
I do love how that IRS guy got thrown under the bus, while the one who probably should be under the bus, other than the head of the executive branch, ended up a head of the IRS department that is supposed to enforce the health care system. If nothing else, it is getting interesting, and it is a good study in how to get out of hot water even when you are caught red handed.
Who you gonna believe; me or your lying eyes? (you know that reference right? The guy gets caught in bed with another woman--or visa versa--and he says what woman, no woman here. Who you gonna believe, etc)
Oh, and by the way, the reason the US does not manufacture textile and cotton goods like they used to is more the result of crony business-government doings than slave labor in China. Certain corporations benefitted, others were crushed. That is how it is done. And the spin for the public sounds air tight logical, but it is not fabricated using truth.
But, hey. A lot smarter people than me say different.
so there
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About Me
- John0 Juanderlust
- Ballistic Mountain, CA, United States
- Like spring on a summer's day
