It Is The Doom Of Man That We Forget: 1

“The trouble is, you think you still have time” – Fake Buddha quote

Dreams come true, sometimes…

Nightmares aren’t real, unless you’re in it…

“It is the doom of man that we forget”

Dante warned us what we faced….

The earth is burning out of control as we speak.

Mankind…..The arsonist of life.

Mankind…..The only hope.

I think we’re fucked….

No, check that…we are….fucked.

Thank God, I’m an optimist!

I wouldn’t be a good God.

I AM too vengeful, jealous and impatient.

I’d have wiped us all out by now and started over.

I didn’t want to start out this post with that kind of attitude.

I don’t really like being a glass half empty type person.

I like being…..a “me” type person.

But….

People are still killing people though…

If you don’t like this post, I will fucking kill you!

Sounds like as good a reason to kill someone as any other, don’t ‘cha think?

Killers of the weak and meek….

They steal children from their front yards, rape them, choke them, stab them; then throw them into dumpsters or rivers.

They blow people up because they believe that there are only 65 virgins, not 72….

They shoot people in the face for $12 and a carton of smokes.

They bomb people from the air because they crossed a line on a map.

They kill people because they don’t know any other way. After all, their parents killed them, didn’t they?

They kill them because they took the name of their Lord in vain.

They kill them because they don’t believe in the God of their own understanding.

Besides, they know they are right….They BELIEVE IT.

They kill a child because the child is sexy; the kid was just asking for it.

They kill Granny because they know she gets a check every month, and she’s frail…..and weak.

They choke or beat their wives to death because the bitch didn’t have supper on time…or they need the insurance money to buy that new boat…or an engagement ring for the new bitch.

They kill the homeless person living in the alley because the fucker keeps asking for money and they’re tired of having to step over the piece of shit to get to the porno store…..Besides, he’s weak too….and vulnerable.

Plus, no one will miss them.

Public service, I guess they could say.

“ I shot a man in Reno, just to watch him die….”

When Jesus said “The meek shall inherit the earth” maybe he meant their bodies.

Magool Eater of Children — Magool
Eater of Children

Piles of meek bodies stacked to the sky.

Evil reigns upon our lands.

If you turn the other cheek, you die.

Why do you think we have the ability to look over our shoulder?

It’s not because we like to see where we’ve been…

It’s because of danger and suspicion….instinct for survival.

Darwin said that only the strong survive…

I will die before I deny Christ…or Buddha or whoever is popular this century….

Oh, interesting side note; did y’all know that as of November 2014, the full Bible has been translated into 531 languages, and 2,883 languages have at least some portion of the Bible.

And people sit there and believe that its infallible….PFFFT!

Were humans involved?

“I rest my case, Mr Mason; your witness”

No, don’t start getting all defensive, I’m not an atheist.

I’m more along the lines of an Agnostic Deist Buddhist Transcendentalist Baptist Catholic with Jainism tendencies.

The above crap means nothing to me in all reality…

IN REALITY…

I want to live, you see…?

I want other people to live.

Happy, happy, happy!

There is nothing worth dying for, except 3 things only;

I will die to protect my family and I will die to protect myself and, old age….That’s it.

I’m tired of enforced, forced, justifiable death.

I’m tired of war.

I’m tired of people preying on the weak and innocent.

I am tired of pedophiles that rape and murder children because the monsters mommy were mean to them when THEY were kids.

I’m tired of the assholes that actually believe that shit.

I’m tired of people that kill in the name of God, Allah…Mohammed, Yahweh, Jehovah….Christ.

I’m tired of governments, controlled by little men AND women that control millions of us sheep, ready to die for flag and country….for $350 a week with reduced benefits…..

“Shake my hand, so I can see if you have a dagger up your sleeve”

Maybe mankind is a virus after all.

Weak viral cells have to die so that the stronger ones can feed off of them and survive to poison the host even further, mutating and adapting to become even harder to kill…

Knowing full well that when the host dies, they die.

They just don’t care, or if they do care, they just believe that “It can’t happen to me”

“Gimme all the money in the register!”

“Okay, there’s only $15 dollars, but I’ll give you all the cash in my purse…take anything you want, just don’t hurt me! I’ll give you an hour to get away before I call the police! Just don’t hurt me, I have kids!”

BLAM! BLAM! BLAM!

“Fucking, raghead!” “Fucking, Jew!” “Fucking, honky!” “Fucking, nigger!”

It doesn’t matter who you are, really…

If you have something that someone else wants, they will take it.

Oil, helpless children, women, money, cars….land….innocence.

What will I say to God when I meet him?

I know I won’t be able to look him in the eye….

“What in the hell is going on down there?!” asks God

I shrug my shoulders “I thought you knew” says I

“I quit paying attention after the flood. I thought that straightened everything out” God frowns….”I have other sheep, not of this fold”

I don’t blame him….

Free will and all that…..

“You left too many people” says I

This is my opinion;

A thought that I’d like for you to explore and consider….

Have you ever seen a beautiful work of art that everyone agreed on?

Have you ever seen a play or movie that everyone loved?

Does everyone love free Pepporoni pizza with extra cheese?

Dear God,

…..or whoever is running the show this week;

Give me the powers to set things right.

Let me be the judge….

I will kill them all.

Oh wait….

That’s your job….

We must remind ourselves that we are capable of beautiful, wonderful things…

Please watch this Pale Blue Dot

September 13, 2016 0

I Want To Die

Like, in 50 more years….

Blogger disclaimer:

No, I’m not gonna kill myself.

Just heard about another lost soul…. I guess it was dark where they lived.

Yes, I think suicide is the ultimate selfish act.

I pity the family of the quitter.

It kills more than one person….

Trust me when I say this; maybe you can relate more than I know.

There is always a way out of the abyss…

It has happened to my family.

It’s always the one person you never would have guessed….

Yes, I realize that some people are lost and see no other way out; no other way to stop the pain.

Yes, I pity them but, not the way you’d think.

I’ll keep that thought private for now.

No, I do not agree with them.

Yes, dead is dead.

Here is a fictional suicide note.

Read it carefully and tell me what you see.

“To whom it doesn’t concern”

I can’t take it anymore, lmfao…..

Everything is going crazy and it’s just more than I can stand, more than I want to stand.

I don’t have any energy. My life is draining away by the day. I don’t want to get out of the bed most days. It takes a mental Olympic feat to even eat anything.

No one understands what I’m going thru or seems to even care. Everything that goes wrong in my family always gets blamed on me. I can’t do anything right.

No matter how hard I try, nothing is good enough.

I get so sick and tired of never being good enough for anybody, no matter how hard I try, how much I sacrifice, no matter how much it takes out of me, no matter how much I have to give up; no matter what I try to do, no one gives a crap how all this affects me or what I go thru in order to meet their lofty, impossibly high expectations of me.

I don’t get it….

I don’t think anyone gives a shit about me or what I care about.

Yeah, I’ve had my struggles and issues lately but, nobody’s perfect, nobody has the right to point fingers at me without walking in my shoes and knowing what I have to sacrifice or what I go thru everyday to be “good” enough to be in this family!

I wish they’d try to understand my pain and cut me a break. I can only do so much.

But, I’m not even gonna try anymore. I am so tired and exhausted of constant, never ending bullshit.

This fucking world is a bunch of bullshit. People always fucking with you and cutting your balls off. Never giving a guy a chance to better himself and fix his problems. Always, ALWAYS! Fucking with me! It never fucking stops!

None of these fuckers in my, so called, “family” give a shit about me. They don’t care what I go thru or what I want or how hard I try to do better.

I’m sick of their shit, I’m sick of my wife, I’m sick of my fucking ungrateful kids, I’m sick of my fuck stick, boss….

Fucking niggers and Mexicans are getting all my jobs. Mother fuckers are everywhere, like fucking roaches!

Fuck God, fuck Jesus, fuck the mother fucking Holy Ghost!

Who believes in that shit anymore, anyways!? Mother fuckers ain’t never done shit for me! Fuck’em all!

Nobody cares what I put up with or what I go thru. Fuck them, too!

So tired of all this shit and not getting a break. So fucking tired…

G*damn bill collecting vultures! They don’t give a shit if you’re out of work or what…

I can’t help my boss was a prick and fired me for missing a couple of hours and coming in late. I know I smelled like beer but that was from the night before.

Asshole.

I was perfectly sober that morning, he don’t care that sometimes a few beers takes my mind off things. It helps me forget about my problems and how everybody is fucking me! It was on my own time….

Well, whoever finds me and this note, tell everyone in my family to kiss my fucking ass! How do you like this shit!?

I can’t believe I let them push me this far…

I should kill them mother fuckers….thatd solve a lot of shit!

FUCK ALL YOU MOTHER FUCKERS AND THE HORSE YOU RODE IN ON!!

Goodbye, Mom… I’m sorry.

[Trigger Clicks!]

You have GOT to be fucking kidding me!

I swear to God!!

I can’t catch a fucking break!!

(Throws gun against the wall. It discharges and hits him in the arm)

“Hellpppp MEEEEE!!”

June 12, 2015 3

30 Day Writing Challenge; Day 2

I accept this 30 day Writing Challenge from Klnikolovas’ Blog because I get where Klnikolova is coming from….and it sounds like fun.

This is Day 2.

“Write something that someone told you about yourself that you never forgot”

Good lord, where do I start, where CAN I start?

From the beginning, from the first time my mother scolded me or praised me?

Do I remember “You’re such a good boy” or “You’re such a bad boy”; which one is so deep that it’s in my bones and I believe it, no, I KNOW it without KNOWING it?

Do I recall all of the bad things or good things?

Do the bad things leave a bigger mark on my soul than the good things?

I am made of pieces of opinions by flawed, imperfect people

I am a castle built on sand, made from blocks of comments and observations by people that had the responsibility to build me up, tall and impenetrable; people that should have created me as a fortress that was beautiful to look upon and had a light that shone bright as the sun, for all to see…

I should have been a beacon….

But, I believe that I am only a quaint hostel; built to stand in a dark forest that is filled with ghosts, skeletons and shadows.

But, do not weep. The sun does shine through the leaves occasionally and I have a small garden that often blooms beautifully according to the amount of complimentary light that reaches it.

“Write something that someone told you about yourself that you never forgot”

I think it’s the things I can’t remember that define me; that is my bedrock.

The foundation on which I depend upon is not of my own making.

Others have shaped it, I have only built it.

“Write something that someone told you about yourself that you never forgot”

I cannot pin-point one thing, in particular.

I am what they say I am; how can I be different?

A perception as to some; I am created and categorized by what others have told me, in love and anger, by careful consideration, knee-jerk reactions, first impressions and “Hey have you heard so and so and this and that, about him?”

“I’m gonna tell him a thing or two” is quantified according to the conceptions of themselves and also sit upon foundations others have built for them.

“I’m gonna give him a piece of my mind” is a two-edged sword. It’s all in how they swing it….defense or attack.

I am part of a vicious circle that stems from our first parents; the ignorant couple from Eden…..

They too, had no idea of the consequences that their words would affect their children, and their children’s, children’s, children….until it got to me.

We….all of us….are affected by those words; words that we have forgotten, but not forgotten…..

And he said; “Who told thee that thou wast naked? Hast thou eaten of the tree, whereof I commanded thee that thou shouldest not eat?”

They point and say….”He told us”

Follow me here….

One man says “You are beautiful, you are smart; you are awesome”

The second man says “What!? He’s nuts, you’re the ugliest, stupidest person I’ve ever known!”

“HE DOES’NT KNOW WHAT HE’S TALKING ABOUT, BELIEVE YOU ME!”

Can you see what I’m saying?

Who would you believe?

Do not lie…

We believe haters before we believe lovers.

It is easier to tear down than to build.

Who DO I believe?

Who SHOULD I believe?

Believe in myself?

I don’t know me that well…..

“Write something that someone told you about yourself that you never forgot”

Okay….

A fence in my mind that was built early, high and sharp…..

“You can’t do that”

But, they lied……

June 7, 2015 2

30 Day Writing Challenge; Treyzguy Style

I accept this 30 day Writing Challenge from Klnikolovas’ Blog because I get where Klnikolova is coming from….

I’ve been in bad places and I’ve been in some good places.

I guess I could say that my life is a happy medium, the bad and good balances out to make my life interesting and gives me just enough bad to make me truly appreciate and recognize the good when it happens.

Kinda weird though….

Like Klnikolova I too was diagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder years ago, with a dash of manic depressive mood swings thrown in for good measure. And after having no luck with the crazy medicine they kept pushing on me (3 suicide attempts in 2 months) I quit taking it and realized that I was just having a bad year.

But, I have been in enough psyche wards, too many; I really love the little socks and Jell-o they give you, Like I was saying, I’ve been a guest at the padded hotels to understand that this stuff is real and comes in as many shapes, forms and fashions as we humans do.

Some not so terrible as others; some, almost evil and definitely real to the poor soul it is happening to.

I guess that’s the real misconception and misunderstanding surrounding us that stygmatizes mentally ill people….

It is real to them and not to us….”It’s all in your head”.

…yeah……it is.

I am in a good place now, for the moment; and I hope I stay here for a bit so, in support of Klnikolova and the challenge, I will do the “thing”. Plus, it’ll be fun and a happy change.

I think y’all oughta give it a shot until all this rampant writers block pandemic passes and our creativity has returned….LOL!

30 Day Writing Challenge

Day 1: Name 10 things that make you really happy

Okay, I’m not falling for this trap.

I’m gonna avoid the obvious answers like; God, my kids, my church, my sports team winning and so on…

That gets boring, redundant and expected….except for the God part, my kids part, my church part, my sports team not winning isn’t that big a disaster, not really….Sorry God, just doing it a little different. I do appreciate what you go thru and have to deal with…

I’m not gonna do this in any type of order, I treat all things that make me happy a bonus.

1 Happy) Perfectly prepared Lobster Tail….
How do I explain the level of happy that a steaming Lobster tail sitting in front of me on a big plate with the melted, hot butter and garlic sitting in a bowl close to my left hand, gives me….
Oh, then they bring the frosty pitcher of beer….
This makes me extremely happy.

2 Happy) Lottery tickets that actually award me more than I spent on them.
I don’t do lottery tickets or the Powerball or any type of Gambling, really. I’ve never actually seen the sense in throwing away perfectly good money over something that is chance or not a sure thing. I know I’m missing the whole concept of what gambling is but, I’ve always been able to walk away from that sort of thing.
But, when I do buy one and come out on top….this makes me extremely happy.

3 Happy) My Wife walking around the house in one of my shirts with nothing on underneath and is busily walking amidst the bottom lowest kitchen drawers, supposedly looking for mysterious implements and “mouse traps”….
I know what she’s trying to do……Hold on, I’ll be back in a second….
Okay, I’m back and I am extremely happy, although the headboard came loose for some reason….
My wife snores….

4 Happy) Reading the above #3 to my wife and tormenting her.
That makes me extremely happy….

5 Happy) Finding socks that match or just finding socks of the same size and particular pattern.
This makes me extremely happy and I give burnt offering.

6 Happy) Finding something that my wife has been looking for over the span of anywhere between 2 days or two years in the exact spot I told her to look for it in the first place.
This TICKLES THE SHIT OUTTA ME!!!! THIS IS BEYOND HAPPY, THIS IS VALIDATION AND VINDICATION!!!!

7 Happy) Being right about everything and proving it.
I love being right…
My favorite words are “I told you” or “Like I said” or “You’re a dumbass”
Oh and the thing I was right about ALL OF THE TIME and the person it is associated with has differing levels and intensities of satisfaction….
I WILL NEVER LET THEM FORGET!!!!
When I am right about something where my little Missus is concerned, it borders on orgasmic.
This makes me extremely happy and makes me raise a joyful noise….

8 Happy) Tormenting my wife.

I tease my poor wife relentlessly. This is something I do all day, everyday. First thing in the morning to edge of sleepy time. It’s as much a part of my personality as my nymphomania is….I HAVE TO FUCKING DO IT….HAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!

Get it?! Nymphomania and HAVE TO FU……DO IT!

I amaze myself sometimes with my witicisms (Is that how you spell it?)

9 Happy) Writing an entire post and not having one mistake on the spell checker or grammar checking thingy…
This makes me extremely happy and is not applicable for this particular post (see above “witicisms”)

10 Happy) My Kids…
I had to say it.
I’d be nothing without them as a part of my life.
I am always hoping that our relationship will get better and better in the future.
Thinking, praying and hoping for this….
This makes me extremely happy.

This was fun.
Thanks for reading.

Check back tomorrow for #2 on the list:

“Write something that someone told you about yourself that you never forgot”

Chiao Mein….

June 6, 2015 5

Give or Take

Welcome to America.

We are 200 and 39 years old; give or take.

We fought for our independence because we listened to a handful of guys that could read and write and they swore to us that “we” were oppressed.

One of my great grandpa’s believed it so much that he went and got himself killed, good and proper.

For what?

Freedom?

We’re not free.

We are a young country.

We have a young government.

We blazed new paths, created unimaginable opportunities for millions and forged possibilities for dreamers and explorers…

That lasted until about 1787….Give or take.

We know nothing and admit nothing but take credit for most everything that is worth anything to anyone.

1787…..That’s about the time that the shepards of this new flock realized that we were so much more than your typical dumb sheep.

We were led easily, willingly; without too much bleating and jostling; to be either shorn or slaughtered, depending on the wants of the few and the needs of the “collective good”

We could be taught, if the teacher knew the material, as laid down by law.

We could be controlled, if the dance master knew the steps, beforehand.

We would value shiny rocks and clear stones more than food or freedom because someone more educated and of a higher sort, told us that these things were valuable; much too valuable to be assessed by a common citizen.

Filthy lucre sticks to your fingers.

Who said that a diamond should be more than quartz?

Who were they to make that determination?

Why is it, really?

Who said gold is more valuable than clay? Who made them the boss?

Why….we did.

Give or take…

Who said that one acre of land in NYC should cost as much as one whole city in Wyoming?

Who says that immigrants should leave our infant country when we are all immigrants.

Ever since the time Adam and Eve were driven from the first home and traveled far upon the earth, we have ALL been aliens in a strange land.

Who said that a white man and a black man should struggle, one against another, especially considering the fact that we are all brothers from the same ancient possibly prehistoric mother.

It’s science, look it up.

Humbly admit your ignorance and set yourself free of pride in knowing a little bit about everything….and much-a-do about nothing, really… quite honestly.

We all had to start somewhere and the beginning is a good start…we just forget what it was like to start from nothing.

Who says that your God is not my god?

We do.

Who says that your child can’t feed my child?

We do.

Who says that you can’t live next to me because your clay isn’t as valuable as my clay?

We do.

The world spins out of control.

It is out of our hands.

It was never actually IN our hands, was it?

An Indian chief laughed at us strange, foolish men when we wanted to buy land and trees.

So, we cut down the trees, made a stick and beat him with it until he wasn’t laughing anymore; on the land we gave him, our red brothers.

We are one and the same, different by only a name that isn’t necessarily necessary….

Stay out of my country
Stay out of my neighborhood

I’m scared of you because I don’t know you, I can’t understand what you’re saying and I don’t know what you want.

You’re not from here, you’re from somewhere else.

My leaders tell me you are the enemy and are sucking my country dry but we need you but, you can’t stay.

You want to take my home, you want to take my job, you want to make ME unnecessary.

You hate me because I am, me.
I hate you because you are you, and not me.
We hate them because they are not us.
They hate us because it’s easier than trust.

I have an idea, extreme but feasible.

Outside the box…

I’ll plant corn
You plant trees.

I’ll feed us, you shelter us.

Then, when we have extra, we’ll ask the others if they know how to grow or build anything.

If not, we’ll teach them.

Give and take…
Reap and sow…
Teach, learn, live…..

Act like a man….

Hurry up, Jesus.
I’m getting tired of waiting
I’m tired of being tired….

Can’t you do something….?
Anything?
Oh…thats right.
You already did.

Guess you feel foolish, now.
I don’t blame you.
I blame us.

May 13, 2015 3

Written In Blood

Disclaimer: Forgive my language. There is pain involved

Ok….

First off, I don’t wanna sound like a cry baby or anything like that but, for the record I have to get this out of the way…

I am grateful for everything that I have.

I am grateful that I have good health and that I’m not blind, deaf or mentally, physically handicapped, or that fat and sassy, nor am I slow crossing an intersection or have my picture posted in a post office (up to this moment) under the nom de’guerre “Wanted Fugitive” (I can’t believe I knew how to spell nom de’guerre….)

Anywho….don’t wanna get side-tracked.

Stay focused, Trey!

I can’t…

I’ve had a pretty rough time here of late.

I don’t know if a lot of you have been keeping up with my blog as well as you should have with the level of admiration and awe that I deem necessary and appropriate to fully appreciate my creative genius but, that’s ok….you’re only human. I understand that you must eat, sleep and work…sometimes.

Fact.

As soon as I turned 50 years old, and I SWEAR it’s the Gods honest truth, my perfect healthy life has gone to hell in a hay basket!

The terrible part is that even though I have been a robust, handsome and sexual dynamo the majority of my days, I must admit that I am a closet paranoid hypochondriac with narcissistic tendencies and low self esteem. (Figure that one out)

I’ve come out of the closet about this malady in an earlier post.

Here goes my decline in to gerontology…

First….they tell me I have diabetes.

Second…they tell me I have high blood pressure.

Third…they tell me I have erectile dysfunction.

Fourth…I have no reason to go on living…..

Anywho….

I’ve been to the doctor A LOT more, lately.

The next big thing was a fungal infection on my legs, left hand and the small of my back; kinda like eczema; lasted 2 months. I’ve never ever had rashes or skin infections like that before in my life.

I thought I was gonna go mad with the itching and scratching.

Then poof….it was gone.

AHA! I knew the superior gene pool thingy would kick in sooner or later!

I AM SUPERMAN!!!!

THIS IS SPARTA!!!!

I mean, I grew up on a pig farm, I am immune to everything.

Except big boobs….

Anywho…

The next medical episode was a heart stent. I went to the doctor for a possible cold, first one in my life and “they” told me I had an 80% blockage in one of my arteries.

The next thing I know, I’m laying on a table with masked men and women all around me, watching a TV screen as they shoved a wire and balloons into my heart….

“You’ll be as right as rain in just a minute…No, don’t mind the alarm beeping on the monitor”

Weird….

I hate cholesterol….

Now I’m walking around with a wire basket in my heart wondering when it’s gonna tear loose and go into my brain and make my head explode.

….paranoid hypochondriac, remember?

Now…I’ve got boils, abscesses’, infected in-grown hairs, staph infection or whatever you wanna call it.

I call it freaking leprosy!!! Call me, JOB!!! (biblical pronunciation for that one guy in that one story)

I don’t know how it happened because I am a clean freak. I mean, if in-grown hairs and puss leaking boils have anything to do with cleanliness…IT WAS’NT ME THAT DID IT!!!

I would shower ten times a day if I could but, my erectile dysfunction limits me to only once a day…

It’s my erectile dysfunction and I can wash it as fast as I want to….

I ain’t 19 anymore, you know?

I try to be healthy and keep myself squeaky clean and nice smelling for a trucker.

I put the lotion on my skin before it gets the hose again…

Another problem I have to go along with all of these recent skin eruptions is that I am a ferocious picker of sores and scabs.

I don’t know why…

I’m a grown man, I know better than to pick at them but, I am also an idiot, unfortunately.

I went to the ER because the ones under my arm were torture.

The one on my forearm was only swelling and turning colors; purple and black clash….

Since I have large breasts for a guy and some baggy skin in places I tend to be somewhat bouncy and sweaty in hard to properly maintain and monitor places, so in-grown hairs could happen, theoretically.

I’m lying there on the ER table and the Doc says “This is gonna sting and burn”

The Doc was an honest man.

When he shoved the huge, bent and barbed needle into my armpit I only pissed on myself a little bit at first but, as he started to move it around into the meaty flesh, I tinkled most copiously.

Then, like doctors are want to do, he pushed in the plunger.

As the boiling hot acid aka Lidocaine forced itself into my subcutaneous epidermal fat cells beneath the armpit boo boos, I only shat on myself……not much, just a smudge, really.

There was a moment, sometime during the procedure, when I actually shouted out, in my own defense; inadvertently and completely out of my control, mind you “WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING!!??” when I felt the Doctor snip something that was not in the general anesthetic area…

Ain’t it funny how you can jerk your knees into the air, bend your toes, claw your fingers and bump your head repeatedly on a hard pillow while cussing like a drunken Viking, bent on rape and pillage, completely as a reflex action?

I wonder if God holds those blasphemies against us…

I mean…..the ones we perpetrate during medical procedures…

I hope not….or I’m gonna burn in hell…

Anywho…

Now….2 days later I am sore.

I am on antibiotics and pain medicine.

The only problem is that I can’t take any pain medicine stronger than Tylenol because, as y’all know, I drive a semi-truck for a living and it’s hard to drive one of those big bastards when you forget what you’re doing and can’t see that well…

Oh…and of course, being graceful as I am, I repeatedly bump my forearm boo boo every time I get close to something; or I forget about the stitches holding together my purple, oozing armpit meat and jam my fingers into that quagmire of oily skin and razor stubble to rip and tear at the infected flesh because evidently, I’m not in enough pain as it is and I haven’t taken the Lord’s name in vain for almost 10 minutes….

This morning I took the bandage off that was in my armpit.

There is hair in a man’s armpit….have y’all ever noticed that?

There seems to be tape on bandages as well.

FACT:

Tape sticks to hair; I didn’t know if y’all knew that.

FACT:

Blood dries and sticks to gauze…

FACT:

Anti-stick gauze is a myth….

Have y’all ever noticed how sensitive the skin under your arms is?

20150508_222712 — It’s as sore as it loooks… Notice the bruising left after peeling the tape off.

I…..know pain, now.

I have seen the gates of hell.

I have met the shadow in the valley of death and kicked him in the balls.

I….have screamed like a girl and meant every. freaking. Second of it.

In hindsight, I should have just had them remove the arm.

I will not go to the doctor anymore.

I will no longer agree to be ill or have boo boos…

I will never, ever allow a bandage to be put under my arm again.

When you pull (ha! Pull!!) tape off of your armpit; you pass thru a moment of clarity, so bright and profound that it takes your breath away…..into sailor speak.

As you lift the edge of the tape with your fingernail to begin the process of removal it becomes very clear that this is gonna hurt like a mother fucker….

“Fuck this” you think. “I know my armpit….it’ll eat the tape and gauze eventually, just leave it alone.”

But…No…

You take a breath and start to pull.

Your eyes water and your poopy hole winks…

“Nope” you think “Pull in the other direction; WITH the grain, not against”

Yes, I thought this.

Yes, I have lived 50 years and not walked into traffic or willingly stuck a fork in a toaster.

Amazing, really….

Famous last words:

“Just rip it off fast and it will be over quicker”

Note: I am a very, very stupid man.

2^nd note: Ripping it off fast does not work. Field tested.

May 9, 2015 6

Nothing To See Here….

So….

What does one write about when there is absolutely nothing to write about on a Thursday morning in Arkansas?

I know, I know..there’s tons to write about.

There’s always the golden standards to draw inspiration from like; war, murder, rape, robbery, adultery, crime in general, celebrity antics and addictions, boobs, cats, food, political intrigue, political bias, political hypocrisy, political gains and a whole myasma of other mind numbing, trance inducing, interesting, irrelevant, verbose, irritating, excrutiatingly, redundant crap….

Its sad to think that human misery is pretty much the most creative muse mankind has where art and expression is concerned…

Yeah, a sunrise can be quite breath-taking and flowers are glorious to behold….blah, blah, blah; but atrocity and chaos is much more……what’s a good word…

…marketable.

Look at what I’m doing right now…

I couldn’t think of anything to write about this morning, then thought about writing about what everyone else seems to be writing about….

….as noted above.

From those of you that visit my blog on a regular basis you have probably noticed that the majority of my posts can be quite inane at times. (I hate you Rene’; for teaching me that word)

But…this has probably happened to some of you;

You can’t think of a damn thing to write about on subjects that you probably started your blog for in the first place,like cat videos, recipes, art or poetry….Syracuse, New York (Mark!)

So, you write about what you see on the news; other peoples blogs spur creativity, Facebook posts, Tweets and so forth.

And most of the time its that negative input that creates the idea.

Who wants to write about Kitty Kitty when a white cop shoots a black person or other irrelevant minority?

It shouldn’t matter who a cop shoots; White guy, black guy, green guy, yellow guy, polka dotted guy….

It shouldn’t matter who a religious fanatic murders. Baptist, Catholic, Muslim, Hindi, Holy Roller…..

It doesn’t matter who a raper rapes…babies, women, old people, other rapers….

It doesn’t matter what country attacks another country….

Does it really matter? I mean, really….

Who cares? Me….you….anybody….?

Does it really matter in the scheme of things when a “reverand” gives 900 followers some funny tasting Kool-aid and tells them “We’re all gonna go see Jesus” and the sheep say “Amen” and drink to his health.

What matters is that the rest of us….no one in particular mind you, I’m just…well, you know what I’m saying; the rest of us ALLOW IT.

Good men do nothing (and women)

See? I can be politically correct and gender sensitive.

We feed the frenzy by propagating it with attention that is misdirected, improper, immature, irresponsible and catastrophic.

We fan the flames of interest by staying morbidly interested.

We, bunch of sick bastards.

Don’t lie.

Everyone likes to see a car wreck…..don’t lie.

Everyone likes to watch a house burn…don’t lie

Everyone likes to watch a terrorist cut a mans head off on YouTube…..don’t lie.

“I can’t watch!” “OMG! why are they always wearing hoods and why wear orange jump suits in the desert?”

Don’t get me wrong….okay, maybe one littl lie.

There are thousands and thousands of good,responsible writers, socially atuned bloggers and heart felt activists on our planet with us, at this very moment, that try and keep the enemies outside the gates.

I shudder to think what it’s gonna be like when we all give up fighting the inevitable….

I shudder to think what it’s gonna be like when we really just don’t give a shit anymore….as long as it doesn’t affect me and mine.

Get this straight, people….

It ALL matters, baby.

Every.Damn.Second.

We are all cells of the same virus that is destroying this world.

We’re gonna eat ourselves out of house and home.

We’re killing the host.

It doesn’t matter how hard we try to save the patient.

It won’t matter how much we cry to the sky and ask or beg God to save us from our iniquities.

God doesn’t listen to us anymore…why should he?

I would’nt listen to a bunch of insane people that can’t even figure shit out on their own and have to be constantly reminded and given a natural disaster or two to try and get their attention.

I’d be pissed, if someone killed my son when he was only trying to help in the first place….

You know what?

I’m making myself mad and disgusted the more I think about what I’m writing and the truth of it all.

The sad thing is that I am a normally an upbeat and happy person; hence the usual “inane” blog material (Damn yer hide, Rene’!)

I’m proving my point about the point of this post.

I had nothing, particularly stimulating or riveting as usual, in mind to write about this morning.

So, I looked at the news, surfed my Facebook account and ended up with a bad mood and bitching material.

Ok, lets pretend that I’m not a Christian or a Mormon….

Let’s pretend that I am only a realist.

Okay, okay…you can be a realist, too.

We are never promised the next second.

We are never promised another sunrise.

We are never promised that winter will end and that the flowers will return.

Nothing is certain…..N-O-T-H-I-N-G.

Make the best of what you have, they say.

Eat, drink and be merry….because…well, you know.

We can’t all be Scottish and be jolly; just 1/64th Cherokee or Dutch Irish it seems…(scottishmumus!)

I’m getting side tracked

Good thing I can’t live that way; hopeless I mean.

Good thing I don’t believe that way; Godless I mean….

Good thing I woke up this morning and the sky was blue, just a few clouds, and I sneezed and had boogers because the flowers are blooming and kicking out tons of allergy aggravating pollen, damn their eyes.

Oh, that’s right….We’re all gonna die because the bee’s are disappearing.

Dang…I forgot about the disappearing bee’s…

Nevermind.

Ignore everything I wrote above, I’m just a young’un that don’t know nuthin'(English Prof!)

I wanna be a treacherous old bastard when i grow up! LOL!!! — I wanna be a treacherous old bastard when I grow up! LOL!!!

We’re all gonna die because the scientist and learn-ed people say we are.

Asteroid, global warming, religious fanaticism, mutually assured destruction, disappearing bee’s….cholesterol.

One thing life is really good at is extinction.

“C’est la vie”….or is it more like “C’est la mort”

Why does life have to be so hard?

Why can’t we just have bubbles and butterflies and free banana splits!?

Oh, yeah…here’s something else;

Our 400 million years as a species on this planet, amongst billions of other planets, is overdue, I believe….

We’re doing pretty good beating the curve.

(Ominous background music)

I’m so glad we’re in the center of the universe and nothing else matters….and that we’re all there is….

Ignorance is truly blissful and Denial is a nice this time of year, they say.

Please….

Nature is nature and God is God….

….man is man (and woman)

We don’t have a chance in hell of getting out of this life, alive….

Hmmph.

I’m glad I wrote this tirade.

Maybe the next scientists on this planet will dig up our bones and cities, millions of years from now ,and wonder why OUR brains were so small and wonder if we knew how to make words, stone tools and why some of our throwing weapons were made out of pig skin or a material called NERF…..

We can always hope.

….unless we stop.

April 16, 2015 3

Liar Liar Pants On Fire

Nothing but the truth.

Thou shalt not bear false witness.

It’s a commandment…

It’s a courtesy.

It’s terrible…

I think the worst thing that ever happened to me in my life, and I’m meaning up to this point; is something that I don’t think will ever happen again….at least not be as disasterous.

I learned how to lie….

I learned how to fib…

I learned how to twist the facts, create instances, cloak and dagger, manipulation by misinformation.

It probably went like this:

“Did you get that candy out of my purse?”

Chewing stops…
A second more hesitation…
A glance; left and right…
Vigorous shake of the head…
Innocent eyes…

“Nope, I found it on the floor”

Then, another terrible thing happened….
They believed me and I didn’t get in trouble.

Cool….

I’ll guarantee you that the reason I took to lying so readily, at first, was out of survival instinct; with parents that tended to be a little….overly expressive in their emotions; a kid had to get creative, or fast.

I was creative.

…..Lying helped me to avoid most of the administrations of justice that involved blue and red welts or a nice blood spatter pattern.

Then the other most terrible thing happened…

It kept working…ha! No beatings!

It worked time and time again, you see; all kinds of instances, all kinds of severities and all kinds of years.

The mostest terrible thing…?

I got better at it.

I mean….really, really good at it.

Ha! Free stuff!

I started to believe them myself.

Even now, at 50 years old, there’s probably stuff in my head that I actually believe happened.

Probably, he says….Ha! Hell…who am I trying to kid?

Of course there are lies in my head….

See what I mean, it becomes a habit….Like breath

I know there are lies in my head that I made up at some point in the past and have retold over and over throughout the years to either embellish or reinforce the initial untruth; to nurture it….to sustain it….to keep it alive…to keep it viable….to keep it believable.

….to keep it real.

Now they are facts in my head; as real as I am….

Hmm…that’s kinda funny to say, I guess…..a “real” liar….

How can a liar ever, be a real person?

We’ve all heard it “Once you tell a lie, you’re a liar forever”

The cool thing about being an alcoholic or even an addict is that we can even lie to ourselves and never guess it’s a lie….
I’ve lied so much for so long that it’s a first reaction….even when the truth is better.

I lie because it’s what I do…..

It’s my knee jerk reaction.

I can tell the difference though, now that I’m older
…..there are consequences.

It’s like starting a rumor at work in the morning and by that afternoon, when the rumor gets back to you, it has been changed, revised, revamped, tweaked and perfected.

….and end up believing it yourself.

You know you started the rumor, you know it isn’t true but, dang….some of it seems different now….what if…you know…?

Only an old liar knows the real value of truth.

Truth is everything.

With truth comes trust.

With trust comes peace….

Truth is there one thing you have to own to be free.

I am not free.

I do not own the truth.

I do not have peace.

You know what the terrible part is; I mean, other than the whole being a liar part and the “fact” that no one will ever completely trust anything you say….ever ever again?

It’s that when you finally get tired of being called a liar for years and years and you try really, really, hard to be honest and forthright about everything from now on…..

….no one buys it….

They want to…..
….they just can’t.

They can’t risk the chance that they’ll be made to look like a fool again; to get their heart broke….to get disappointed in you.

Worst of all….?

You might just confirm for them the obvious, what they knew all along.

You’re a liar.

That’s the truth….
You’ll never change.

No matter what you say.

This is weird….I just thought of this.

Liars are the most trusting people I know; at least I am.

I trust everything anyone tells me, I have no concept of other people being false or lying to me.

Why should they….I mean….?

What’s the point of lying to me?

You don’t need to lie, I’ll believe you!

I swear!

….wolf

Ironic….ain’t it?

April 11, 2015 1

I’m OK

I was in the ICU last night.

I’ve been bleeding in my gut and my kidney stones are on the move.

There are quiet people in hospitals that stare at monitors.

They wanted to watch me lie on their magic bed and make the machines beep.

I was the reason they hustled around on squeaky shoes under dim lights, talking quietly and serving as the sacrificial calf for practicing their blood-letting dark art upon.

I don’t like needles.
I don’t like hospitals.
I don’t like beeping machines.
I don’t like squeaky shoes in the dark.
I don’t like smiles that hide secrets about my life.

But…
I appreciate them and support them.
They serve a need.
They are a necessary evil.

I was complaining.
I was hurting.
I was not happy to be back in the hospital for the 3rd time in a week trying to get ahold of the smorgasbord of ailments that decided to blossom for me this week.

I complained.
I bitched.
I moaned, I groaned, I damned their eyes….

I heard a moan from behind curtain #4.

Although there was lots of the machines, blinking lights, dropping drips, breathing bags and shadowy curtains…..I did keep my wits about me long enough to look for a floating head and a wizard.

But, no….

All I heard behind curtain #4 was an old woman gasping for breath and moaning.

All I heard behind curtain #4 was a family mumbling and talking about stopping….something.

All I heard behind curtain #4 was a doctor telling the mumbles that he didn’t care what they wanted, he cared what SHE wanted.

I felt his finger jab in the dark….

I felt them flinch…

The nurses stood back, poised for attack.
Should she stay or should she go?
Regardless of the verdict, they would fall upon the patient.
Doing good…
Letting Death step around curtain #4.
Dr.Ceasar raised his arm…

The crowd mumbled.
My breath breathed.
The nurses looked at me and grinned thru the dim light.
My BP was good.
My kidneys were bad.
Dr. Ceasar raised his thumb.

The old lady gasped.

Death stepped back behind the curtain.
The mumbles turned silent.

The nurses fell upon the hapless woman.
Jerking tubes, snatching lines, pushing plungers, raising beds, fluffing pillows, drawing blood….

They were diligent in their fervour.

The old lady would live whether she wanted to or not.

All I heard behind curtain #4 last night was an old woman gasp for air and fight for her life.

All I heard behind curtain #4 was a family planning for a future without her in it; while she was only 4 feet away.

All I could see behind curtain #4 was vultures flapping and waiting, Ceasar waving a sword, standing over an old lady fighting them off.

All I heard behind curtain #4 is a dying person.
A people.
A mom, aunt, grandma, sister…
A suffocating old woman…

I decided that I didn’t want to complain anymore.
I decided I was wasting breath 6 feet from a lady that was dying for it.

I decided that, I’m good….
No…I’m better than good.
A lot better than most.
One poor lady, for example.
Millions more….
*sigh*
So many, many more….

No, I think I’ll quit bitching, now.
I’m good…
No, really…
I’m better than good.

March 24, 2015 7

Spread My Filth!!!

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30 Day Writing Challenge

Spread My Filth!!!

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