Loving Husband on Vacation

Of course most of you know I am on my first vacation, or I should say, first PAID vacation.

I don’t know what to do with myself….

The wife and I have already had our monthly sexcapade, so we’re lost about what else to do….

The wife and I had made some tentative plans, coordinating our vacations on the same days, and stuff we thought that we would like to do…

It never occurred to either of us that we had to get out of bed before noon to accomplish anything on our list.

We are sitting here sipping coffee.

She is laughing at her Facebook and I am writing this….Obviously.

This is an awesome “stacation”…Day 3.

I had to go to the ER on the first day because, apparently, I have some clogged sweat glands under each arm that were killing me. I was starting to walk around like a gunfighter, arms out and ready to draw.

One cool thing is that they gave me some antibiotics that make my pee orange, like deer hunting vest orange….

I wonder if it glows in the dark.

I’ll let you know later, so expect one of my “Random Thoughts @ 2 am ” posts….

I’m re-learning how to sleep on an actual bed.

My wife is only like 5′ 1″ and the mattresss top of our bed is like 5′ off the ground.

I have to literally pull her onto the bed.

I am super strong it appears.

I got this pain in my back now….

She’s kinda heavy for a Hobbit.

Oh….

Get this…

My dedicated followers know that I am on the road a lot because of my job as a long haul trucker…

What they may not know is that I may, and do, forget some intimate things about being married and the wife:

I was stunned by what I had forgotten, or probably just blocked it from my memory….Trauma and all that…

Did you know…?

A) She snores like a drunk sailor

B) She sleeps like she is the only one in the damn bed

C) There are strange noises coming from under her side of the blankets

D) It IS possible for me to sleep on 3″ of mattress, and I can work on my grip strength at the same time that I am in REM mode.

Not easy to do but I am gifted in so many things that y’all all know….

E) Whenever I move or turn over, she mumbles “blerk” and puts her hand over my face…. She had pizza last night, evidently.

F) She has absolutely NO fashion sense in Pj’s. She is wearing a brown tee shirt with white/pink polka dot sweats.

Soo cliché ….

G) I will attempt to reclaim my side of the bed tonight.

There will be blood….

PS: What does “ronk” or “snark” mean? How about “eerp gronk”?

Just wondering….

Here’s something else….

This is why I am such a loving and caring husband:

This morning my wife got a little grouchy and thought she would not make my eggs and bacon on time.
Well, I had to remind her that I am the man and she must obey me in all things.

After I corrected her impudence and childish attempt at revolt, and our marriage vows, I showed her that despite her outburst, I still loved her and wanted only the best for her.

I bought her a pair of new sunglasses to hide her 2 black-eyes so that people would not stigmatize her as an abused spouse.

It is very important to me that no one makes fun of my wifey-poo.

Oh, the eggs were awesome…plus, I got a foot massage.

Goes to show you that blind people can be useful….

See, sometimes a little reminder here and there keeps the home a tranquil place….

My wife informed me that I must sleep with one eye open.

I said “Silly goose, I can’t sleep with one eye open, it’s impossible”

She just grinned at me and nodded…

A little un-nerving that….

I’ll keep you updated on the happy and contrite wife.

Looking forward to Stacation day 4…

P.S 2: “Honey what are you doing with those scissors?”

“What do you mean, cut off my jollies?”

“You can’t cut my pecker off you silly goose, you did that when we got married, it’s in that jar on the mantle-piece next to my juevos”

Silly Goose…..

P.S 3: I wub ooo honey biscuit ; *

July 13, 2014 3

Rotten Apple

They’re trying to kill me….

That’s all there is to it.

As a long haul truck driver I consider myself somewhat a reasonable man with some good sense and a penchant for not putting myself intentionally in harm’s way.

I’m funny that way…..Something about death distresses me.

Like many other truckers I know from around the country, we have one thing in common:

We do not come to New York City.

We do not go to Queens….We do not go to the Bronx….We do not go to Brooklyn….We do not go to Manhattan and we sure as hell don’t go to Long Island.

It is a very sad state of affairs when I jump at the chance to go to Hackensack instead of the Big Apple.

My company offers $100 extra for any driver that will brave the hordes of traffic maniacs NYC.

It is not worth it.

I just sent a message to my company that I will never ever return to NYC.

If they even ask me to go I will quit first.

I will pack my shit and abandon their truck on the BQE or some other fucked up NYC street….Maybe Flatbush.

There are people in NYC that have never driven anywhere else other than their city.

They do not understand the concept for consideration of other drivers or courtesy, or of the fact that an 18 wheeler will kill their dumb-asses.

They seem to become mesmerized by a turn signal.

A turn signal flashes, their foot presses down on the accelerator.

“OMG!” I’ve got to hurry up and get around this guy…..he might slow me down and make me 20 seconds late for the rest of my miserable goat sucking ass life!”

Brake lights are a stimulant…it turns them on.

“Go into the light Carol Ann…”

I wish I had a sack of ball bearings.

Next time one of them NYC a-holes start to come around me and cut me off when I am trying to change lanes I am gonna just chuck a handful of ball bearings out the window and see how they like that shit!

Maybe a paint-ball gun filled with bird shit…..

No that wouldn’t work….too many freaking pigeons.

I wouldn’t be able to get my point across.

I’m sure there are some nice motorists here.

I’ve never seen any, but I’m sure they exist.

National Geographic should start hunting them.

I don’t believe anything until Nat Geo takes a picture of it.

There’s just too many people here.

It’s a freaking island people!

There is a whole country to the west of you!

I have a book to prove it. It’s called an “ATLAS”

We have pizza, hot dogs, tacos, pollution, suck-ass baseball teams, corruption, bad roads and assholes on this side too!

It’d be just like home!

I hate having so much violence in my heart toward my fellow NYC Americans and illegal aliens that sit behind the wheel of a vehicle. (Notice that I did not say “DRIVE”)

I know I should love the poor asshole residents of Gotham.

But Buddha never drove in NYC so fuck him!

Jesus wouldn’t drive in NYC. He would have lost his religion.

I know for a fact that if he had driven thru NYC he would have taken his father’s name in vain….Several times and with much malice.

If I had to live here and drive a local delivery truck I’d be a raging alcoholic then kill myself.

Why do all of you people want to live here so close together?

The roads suck….The tolls suck….the traffic sucks….

I don’t see any reason to stay here except for the fact that you are all insane.

Why oh why would you want to drive in this town every day?

Why oh why would you ride on subways, taxi nazi cars and buses all day for years!?

I don’t understand….

“Why won’t you go to NYC Trey?”

“They try to kill me every time, that’s why”

Y’all pack up y’alls shit and move to Kansas or the Dakotas or Arizona or somewhere….

We got lots of room, lot’s of fresh air and good baseball and football teams.

We have this stuff called grass that’s really cool to look at and walk in.

It’s green….

We have trees that don’t require being grown in buckets first.

We don’t have a Central Park….

We have what’s called “woods” “forest” “desert” “plains” “mountains”.

We don’t have rats that eat the homeless and babies.

What you spend on a month’s rent in most places in NYC you could buy a house and some land out here that you could actually keep for the rest of your life!

Your closest neighbor could be more than 400 feet away!

Never mind….

I just thought of something.

We don’t want New Yorkers out here where we are.

It’s nice here….quiet.

Poor poor lost souls of Gotham….

Repent of your driving sins and traffic inadequacies!

One day while driving across the George Washington Bridge that costs 5 million dollars to cross….. I will snap!

There’s only so many times a man can have his life threatened and not retaliate in kind.

New York drivers….You are a menace to society.

The President should declare you a disaster area.

The Navy Seals should be sent in and establish a perimeter.

The Strategic Air Command should carpet bomb you daily with tactical nuclear weapons and napalm.

I think you should be re-tested and re-evaluated for a driver’s license every 6 months.

I believe that this process should also require a psychological exam and screening for pathological traits.

That would eliminate maybe 80% of you crazy people.

Please quit trying to kill me.

Please quit trying to wreck my truck.

I promise that if you let me out of here alive today I will NEVER EVER come back!

Just give me one more chance….

I bought a NYC tee shirt and a state spoon for my collection, so I have everything I need to remember my visits here.

I hope that eventually the trauma I have experienced will block the rest of the memories.

Lord I hope so…

Where’s amnesia when a guy really needs it?

I pray for it….

I pray for you, you poor sunzabitches….

I promise I’ll never come back…

I just wanna live and see my grandbabys one day.

May 1, 2014 9

There Be Smoke

So….

Lewis and Clark stood on a plateau that over-looked the vast open plains somewhere in what is now Wyoming.

The valley was immense, forever.

These 2 trail-blazers that had been commissioned by then President Jefferson to undergo this expedition could not have envisioned the grandeur of this wild country even if it had come to them in a dream.

The men had been on their quest for almost a year now, with several successes and tragedies.

The many tribes of Indians that they had encountered thus far had began calling them “dog eaters” for obvious reasons.

That was to be expected, Lewis thought to himself. An untamed country was just that…untamed.

Like a young stallion that had to be broken, it could still kill if you underestimated its desire to stay wild.

Their company of fellow explorers had been setting up camp on the plateau for over 2 hours.

It was a beautiful day, not a cloud in the sky.

Lewis was not concerned about a storm popping up so much as worrying about renegade tribes appearing.

It was very windy though and Clark had sent the French trapper Charbonneau across the valley to try and meet with Charbonneau’s wife’s people and parlay for supplies and guides.

Charbonneau’s wife, a Lakota Sioux, was called Sacagawea or “Cutie” for short.

Her father and tribe were expecting to be contacted by the travelers on the return route of the expedition, to trade and guide the troupe back to the Arkansas River Delta region that fed into the great Missouri River tributaries.

But now they were at a fork in the river and had to make a directional decision.

The Lakota guides had almost given up trying to use smoke signals to alert their tribesmen on the other side of the valley to their location.

“What’s the problem?” asked Lewis looking over at Cutie.

“Wind much too big” replied Cutie.

Cutie was a priceless addition to the expedition…Clark had come to rely on her, but Lewis was indifferent, always referring to or calling her a “Squar”.

“Pompous ass” thought Clark.

Cutie and the guides had noticed that the smoke signals from their kinsmen across the valley were dissipating quickly in the brisk wind, and the echoes of the signal drums were reverberating and fading over the slow rolling grasslands, lost in the numerous valleys and flats.

“Frustrating” thought Lewis. “What are the drums saying?” asked Lewis, growing more impatient.

Taking his eye from the spyglass that he was using to try and read what broken signals he could, he could see that it would be dark soon and they had to get an idea of how far they would have to travel on the morrow before then..

Cutie replied “They have stopped now”.

She pointed her hand over the valley and waved it in a sweeping motion over the plains, she said “They cannot see our smoke no hear drums…must move”.

Across the valley, the time it took for Charbonneau to move the others into a better position the wind had picked up making it impossible to control any type of smoke pattern, much less trying to keep from starting a wildfire on the flat, grassy prairie.

“Damn” thought Lewis.

He gave Clark a questioning look.

Clark knew what he was thinking.

Clark said to Cutie, trying to sound calm, but direct…. “This needs to be done by tonight”, he returned his cupped hands to his ears.

He couldn’t quite make out the sounds or the messages but he could tell when they started up again.

The expedition depended on Cutie for the interpretations and replies.

Over the next 2 hrs the drums could be heard, then fade.

The sounds came in bits and pieces…never long enough to make out a complete message though.

The Lakota guides were getting anxious as dusk began to fall darker and Lewis could tell that Cutie was becoming frustrated herself.

They all knew it wasn’t good to be isolated and separated from the others out in the open…

Especially at night.

“Pray” whispered Clark.

“Let’s get a little higher up on this hill and try again” ordered Lewis, moving up a slight rise on the plateau.

“Thirty more minutes… ” Lewis said as he raised the spyglass to his eye.

“Then we’ll have to stay here until morning” He said.

The guides and travelers did not like this idea and began to mutter amongst themselves..

Once at the higher elevation Lewis and Clark had stood with both their hands cupped over their ears, straining to hear anything.

Cutie stood quietly in front of them, listening intently …her eyes closed.

The drums began to finally come thru the wind clearer and remain steady for about a minute and then stop.

Then, in about 3 heartbeats the drums repeated the same sequence of beats again.

Cutie smiled. She looked satisfied that she had understood the message.

“Well?” asked Lewis. “What did they say Squar?”

Clark shot Lewis a sharp glance.

Lewis changed tact. “…Cutie…” he started over again “What are the drums saying please?”

Cutie looked over her shoulder at the 2 travelers and said “The ‘Kota had to move several times, and Charbonneau my husband has found a good spot now. Drums are clearer” She turned away…still listening as the drumming continued once again.

“Well?”…it was Clark’s turn to be impatient this time.

He glanced at Cutie, the question in his eyes.

“What are they saying?”

“They say…Can you hear me now?”

Get it?

April 30, 2014 4

RuRu Is Awake…

RuRu …

From the winter slumber he hath awakened.

Forced into fetid darkness by his preys own seasonal seclusion, he hath now arisen to face the swarming, inevitable, brutal onslaught.

Not only pestilential in magnitude is their hunger, but also insatiable.

…. Ever feeding.

…. Always there.

RuRu is not only a soldier of the hand nor a tightly wound instrument, NAY!

He is the vanquished reincarnated warrior poets last blooded weapon that the battle spirit doth still reside.

RuRu is whistling death…

RuRu’s story continues soon….

Reacquaint with RuRu or meet him for the first time:

Death by RuRu

April 22, 2014 0

Nothing New, But Funny….Again….this time.

Okay…..
I took a midday nap and my brain has ceased to function in a creative state.

I am posting this story again because I like it and I’m too freaking tired from driving my big rig 700 miles today thru 40-50 mph cross-winds as I thought it prudent to try and get under the storms crossing Oklahoma before the bottom fell out and starts swirling around.

“We got debris!” (Twister movie…?)

Since some of you may be in the storm shelter for a while, you might as well read it and get a laugh.

For my old followers that have read it already, I’m sorry I didn’t have anything new….

Some of us have to work for a living.

California needs the McNugget’s I am hauling…..To earthquake country….on purpose…..

I’m tired of out-racing, out-maneuvering earthquakes, blizzards and tornadoes.

I need hazard pay…

For the new visitors that have never checked out my blog before….WELCOME.

I hope you like it….

If not, burn in hell.

I mean that with the greatest sincerity and utmost humility….

P.S LOL! Have fun!

Once again….from the mind of the world renowned 49 year old blogging prodigy….

“Ouch”

There are some things in this world of mine…and probably others that bother me.

I will give you a quick perspective into what I mean.

As you get older there are things on your body that begin to decline…and just plain fall off.

Your hair gets thinner or takes up permanent resident status with your brush, or other peoples food.

The toe nails and finger nails change their molecular structures and become….brittle and looonnggg.

Skin becomes drier and looser thus causing the application of numerous chemical compounds in order to prevent friction and/or possible fire, and the chance of causing cancer and/or addiction.

Joints pop. Back pops. Neck pops. Fingers pop. Toes pop.

Yes…I have become Sir Pops-a-Lot.

I am not obese. I am heavy of course, DUE TO THE FACT that I have no will power at all where Wendy’s or Taco Bell is concerned.

I am a genetically engineered consumer of fast foods.

A poor man that is dependant upon salt, sugar and fat…and Pepsi…and Bud Light…and…other stuff I can’t recall

I am a devotee of Yellow #5 and Mono-Sodium Glutamate.

It’s sad…I agree.

I wonder if the parts of my body that are becoming useless, saggy, or just in the way, is caused by my lifestyle?

I know it is really, but denial is all I have left that is mine.

I have also come to the realization, (for it is evident) that I am a closet Hypochondriac. I have not “come” out yet.

I get little “ghost pains” and twinges, blinks, twitches and throbbing that occur for no reason…well, you know what I mean.

I can be sitting, or standing or basically breathing when I will get one of these.

Hell…I can’t even vegetate on my couch in a potatoic repose!

Here’s what happens in my brain:

A pain in my calf: “Oh crap! I’ve got a blood clot! [No ER]

A pain in my bicep: “Holy crap! I’ve got a blood clot!” [No ER]

A pain in my right side: “Oh crap! I’ve got appendicitis…or a blood clot”! [No ER]

A pain in my left side: “Holy Shit! I’m having a heart attack!” [Think about ER]

A headache is “definitely an aneurysm”. [No ER]

A bad visit to Taco Bell or Wendy’s: “Holy Hannah, I’ve got E Coli #2435261!” [No toilet paper]

I am getting so tired of these little pains and hypochondriatic spells…shit falling out…falling off…hanging off and just plain unpleasant to look at, or even smell.

That’s right…smell!

There are odors that escape from my body that I KNOW can only be caused by dead or dying tissues and/or failing organs.

When a grown man reaches a point in his life that he no longer smiles at his own farts, but assumes a disgusted or even alarmed reaction to them…it’s too late.

Pepto-Bismol is a lie!!

There is no going back to 21 or 25 yrs of age.

I won’t even get into the memory lapses. Well, just this observation…

I am starting to remind myself of my grandmother (Bless her heart).

I can remember things that happened when I was 3 yrs old!! Really!

But where are the truck keys? Where’s my pen? What was I just gonna do? Did I take my medicine?

Shit…I’m gonna have a heart attack!

I used to be sexy.

Quite a handsome guy…

But…now…I look like someone else’s grandpa.

I have now looked in a mirror and actually said “Good lord Trey” and not in a religious manner either.

It’s the blood clots…I’m sure of it.

I had my first real panic attack just a short time ago, from a dead sleep…woke me up!

[Yes on the ER]

I knew I was dying…someone was trying to kill me…the room was getting smaller…I couldn’t breathe!…”Where’s my damn socks!” Chaos…

All my blood clots were finally breaking loose! It was terrible.

I’ve never had a panic attack before. It lasted about 6 hrs. That is technically not an attack…it is a siege.

This only happen’s to old women right?

Great…I’ve turned into an old lady.

Only cost a million dollars at the ER.

Thank GOD! I had insurance…my co-pay was only $300,000

• Blood test (6 tubes!)

• Standard chest x-ray

• Oxygen tube in my nose

• Got ran through the big machine that spins around and around…the people behind the screen say…”Hold your breath now!” 20 minutes later…”Now breathe”…then Vanna claps…Pat claps…and I spin the Bankrupt…

And all I got from the hospital was a bottle of water. No pill no shot…anything to stop whatever was happening to me. I was freaking out!!

But, they didn’t worry about the poor old guy with all his shit falling off. They just ran me through all the tests during a panic attack and didn’t tell me anything! For 6 hrs!!!

The only saving grace was the x-rays were clear…

My vitals and juices were up to snuff.

And mostly…no blood clots. (I did ask them to check for me while I was there)

I think they lied though. I still get the little ghost pains.

How long does it take for a blood clot to form?

Oh….Something else that I want to get into real quick while I’m thinking about it….

There are lots of wonderful people in the world.

They are kind, considerate and empathetic.

They are sensitive to another’s needs and quick to offer advice when needed.

There is only one problem though:

They mean well.

Let me explain the folly of these good intentions.

If you paid any attention to the above, you are aware of my…problem.

Like I have stated; I am a victim of Hypochondriatic Paranoia (to be referred to henceforth as HP). I made up the word because it seems to cover the entire spectrum and endless parameters of my “condition”. Those ailments that have happened…are happening or are going to happen.

It is a total figment of my imagination and I’m cool with that.

I am a firm believer that if it can be thought of…it can happen. I am also one year away from my 50^th birthday and have come to except the fact that I am not as spry or young as I used to be.

I’m just glad it hasn’t affected my handsomeness or animal magnetism.

It’s not the roads I traveled…it’s the miles baby!

Here is a scenario for y’all…tell me if this has happened to you.

You are explaining to a friend or acquaintance that you have a newly discovered ailment.

We do that sort of thing after 40.

Weather…Politics…ailments.

That’s what we talk about.

Anyways…

After you explain the chronology, biology, incubation, and personification of said ailment, your friend looks concerned. Even makes sympathetic overtures and comforts you.

Then…just as soon as they have convinced you it’s not all that bad…

They do it! They can’t help it….

They either have had the same ailment (only much worse of course) or know someone or even knew someone that had something like you described.

Unfortunately the one they “knew” has passed away, but they don’t know if that particular ailment was the cause of it.

HP scale 1-10? ….5

They start describing the ailment.

The only problem is that for victims of HP, every time they describe a freaking symptom it is instantly locked into our minds as if though it’s been there the whole…damn…time!!

“Hell yeah…it’s happening right now!” “Damn, I didn’t notice that particular symptom, but now that you’ve described it…”

HP scale 1-10?…7

Holy Shit!

As this nice person keeps explaining the several different variations, symptoms and related diseases that can, has or might cause this ailment…shit that I’m definitely gonna Google, The HP enters its infectious stage.

I begin to feel the pain in my left side. I can feel a blood clot forming in my leg. The very thing that this person is explaining as a possible cause for my ailment begins to fester and become chronic….becomes real.

HP scale 1-10?…9

You don’t do that to victims of HP!

Don’t explain your related ailments then add big scientific names to them!

And for God Sakes don’t tell them the symptoms or what to check for!

They’ll never leave the freaking house!

My insurance won’t even begin to cover me for the things I “think” are wrong with my dumb ass!

WebMD is a drug for victims of HP. It was created just for us. We are the life blood of pharmaceutical companies!

We are the trail blazers in the Land of Pharmacopeia!

We suffer so that mankind can prosper and be symptom free…

Now, while I’m sitting here in my truck writing this, I can feel that my varicose vein is throbbing and feels hot to the touch. My left shoulder is tight and feels hot. I think I’m getting a toothache…my cheek feels hot.

HP scale 1-10?…10

Why would y’all do that to me?

You know I suffer from HP. If you have an ailment that seems to match the symptoms of any of mine…don’t tell me.

Just say something like “Oh, you’re full of shit Trey, there’s nothing wrong with you…you’re too young and handsome to have problems like that”.

Is that too much to ask?

I know you mean well…but humor the crazy person.

Please?

April 3, 2014 6

Novo Natus: Prologue

I have been alive for over 500 years now.

If you wanna call it that….

I’m sucking air at least…..

A different air mixture than I’m used to of course”’

Anyways….

I was born in 1964 in a state called Mississippi.

That’s about all I can remember of that ‘joyous’ occasion.

The hilarious part is that there is no longer a state called Mississippi.

There is no more United fucking States Of America.

They blew it all up 450 years ago….or the people on it, either way….

It’s all gone, the people I mean…

When I use the name “They” I am speaking of the extinct so called leaders of the world at that time, at least in this brief explanation.

They were political, religious, social, cultural and believe it or not….The major relief and humanitarian groups were in on it to.

……yeah….The Red Cross was part of it……pffft!

For some reason that pisses me off more than anything else…..Go figure…

They killed billions of innocent people in one month.

You wanna know why….?

The long and short of it….?

Over-Population and food…..

They all secretly got together in Switzerland and decided that there were too many people wasting space, and that too much relief aid was being flushed down the collective toilet in undeveloped countries like Africa, Mexico, Siberia and Central America.

Yada yada yada! We’ve been hearing that crap on TV for years!

Africa was the main reason for their meeting.

Trillions of dollars was being pumped into places that they considered hopeless and un-productive.

Civil war, religious extremism, Aids…

…because we were running out of food on Earth….or SO THEY said.

A money pit….Ha! It makes me cry….and puke!

How’d that one guy say it…? “If you can find money to kill, you can find money to help….” Is that right?

Basically too many mouths to feed in comparison to the wealth generated they said.

So….these ‘leaders’ decide and agreed on localized, controlled epidemics, just little ones mind you, the kind of an occurrence that the rest of the world would accept without question.

Tragic….

The ‘citizens’ of the world would agree that it was a terrible thing that had happened in that godless, barren, backward place.

All those bugs and sinful nature….

Who said “Man makes plans, God laughs…?”

Their plan spread like the virus it was, not according to graphs and charts that predicted total containment.

It killed everyone I loved and knew in less than 4 days……

It killed everyone and every living thing with a heartbeat on earth except for me and ten other people.

We had all been dying from a rare form of heart cancer…..

It saved us to be dying.

We never believed or even considered something like that would ever happen….

How could I…?

How could anyone…?

I was almost dead from starvation when the ‘Neighbors’ found me.

Yep….Martians.

That’s what we call them anyway when we talk amongst ourselves.

They will tell you that they are just men…from a different place, same neighborhood.

They think that’s funny as hell…

Weird huh…and we KNEW we were the only ones out here.

Our universe is so small it doesn’t even show up on their maps….

I’d laugh my ass off if I found anything funny anymore….

Evidently, something similar to this had happened to them eons ago.

A rogue meteorite hit their planet 2 million years past, before our ancestors had even crawled out of the swamps, and had introduced an aggressive bacterium to their water supply.

They’ve been underground ever since….That’s why we never seen them thru our telescopes and voyagers.

There’s a lot more detail to this history and I will take…..

Who will or what CAN I say….to who?

Well…..never mind that…..

They believe the meteorite was an attack that came from Earth.

They told me that they suspected it was the visitors that had taught the early Earth men about fire and war that had sent the Mortus Stone (My best translation) but they couldn’t prove it.

Our neighbors from Mars look like us, but they are pale skinned.

Anyway…… Before I get further side-tracked……

They told us that we can never go back to earth.

They just dropped that one on us about 3 hours ago.

They also said that they are going to re-establish life again on Earth.

“Then why can’t we go back?” was the general majority question from we survivors.

“Because………you are a plague” They answered.

I knew what they were intimating….

We are tainted.

We are flawed.

Even if we go back to earth and never have an argument or a bad thought, we still and WILL have the capacity and potential for destruction.

It’s what we do……..

Destruction of our species is painfully self evident to me right this minute, but we risk the entire welfare of our planetary galaxy and others.

“OURS….” That’s funny as hell.

Copernicus was wrong….

Our sun is not the center of the universe.

It’s not even close.

It is in our nature to destroy they told us.

We argued that our species created great things….beautiful things….

We argued and argued, justified, clarified…TESTIFIED!!!!

We were so….human.

They have kept us alive for these 450 Earth years to show us how naïve and terrible we were…

I will tell you this in my first draft of a record they have requested that I keep:

We are not all there is….

There is a balance….

….Evidently, time is irrelevant…..Ha! That kills me….

You know what else our rescuers did?

They took us into a ‘museum’ on their….I’ll call it a “ship” for simplicity.

A museum that contains only sealed vials.

We all huddled around the first display, looking thru the glass like kids.

“What’s that one?” someone behind me asked.

“Life” was the reply.

“That’s not life” someone else laughed.

“How do you know what life is or is not?” said a neighbor.

“Life doesn’t…..I don’t know…..Life is….” the voice died out.

“The only thing that is for certain about life on your ruined world is that it was taken for granted” They said.

“We value life!” someone at my left shoulder said petulantly.

Then….

…..guilty, sad silence.

The neighbors looked at us intently….

We looked at our feet, then back at the vial of life.

“What’s this one?” I asked, pointing to another vial and trying to kill the quiet.

“Trust” said a neighbor.

“Ha!” cried someone else “Trust isn’t really real! It’s a…a…..”

….silence.

“Trust has to be earned!” another shouted out.

The neighbors stood there, letting the statements drift around our heads like dying smoke.

“No it doesn’t” I said, my low whisper loud in the “museum”

I started “Don’t you see what they’re trying to get us to realize?”

I looked around at our small human race….

No comments, only interest.

I continued “Trust is innate, trust is a given. We are born with it. We are the ones that destroy trust. Why would we need trust if we never knew anger, fear, hate…?” I looked at the closest neighbor “Am I right?” I asked, spreading my arms.

“It is all chemical….” Is all our neighbors said before they turned….and left us to ourselves.

I’ve been thinking about that for the last 3 hours, like I said before.

There is so much I want to say, so much to explore in my heart.

So much to warn the new life coming to our planet about….

Will it even be human….?

The neighbors say that they cannot predict that…..

….They don’t know what will happen either.

I have to warn the new born…teach them…..make sure they do it right this time.

I’m so tired now.

I am emotionally beat to shit…

I’ll write more sometime this week….

About a new start….and how to build a world.

We all seem so…..silly now.

Trey Clarke

9^th found

Journal entry 1: September 5, 2464

Onboard: “Novo Natus”

(New Born)

March 30, 2014 8

Trucker Man

The first thing I want to say is that this new photo editing change that WordPress has given us SUX SHIT!!!

Now…

I just want to share with you City Slickers and Yuppies, or regular God fearin’ Jesus bashin’ folks that never, ever leave your one horse town with the one blinking red light, Just a little bit of my day as a Long Haul Trucker/Blogger and some of the preparations that goes into it.

Please mind your step….

I admit it's not pretty to look at.... — I admit it’s not pretty to look at….

I start my day by waking up…..
I don’t recommend it, but it happens none the less.

I often wake up during anytime of a normal day according to the rules that the FMCSA (Federal Motor Carrier Safety Alliance) has laid out for me, or us truckers in general.

The rules are:

A) Drive 8 hrs-30 minute mandatory break [off duty not driving]

B) 11 hours a day to drive in a 24 hr period

C) After 11 hours, mandatory 10 hours in sleeper berth or off duty.

The problem we face (truckers) is that we have to plan this in accordance with our pick-ups and deliveries, whom of which never take our “clocks’ into consideration.

You see, once our EOBR (Electric On Board Recorder) starts, it won’t stop until the driving and breaks have been met or the overall 14 hrs on duty requirements have been fulfilled.

For instance….I drive for 2 days (1200 miles).

I can’t go into certain cities after dark because of my companies fear of cargo theft, or because most shippers/receivers won’t let us park at their facility, even though we’re going to deliver or pick-up there that morning, say we show up a couple of hours early…we can’t park on the street because we’ll get tickets or knocked in the head for $3.

There are some places that I routinely have to wait 16-24 hours to get loaded/unloaded. (Tyson Foods, Cargill, JBS Swift Meat Packing Plants, etc.,)

Believe it or not, the Wal-Mart distribution centers are one of the worse.

If you’re not one of their company drivers, they treat you like shit.

We truck drivers get a lot of that sad to say.

There is no stopping our clocks once they start ticking down….

We sleep when we can.

Try sleeping all night, get up and drive for 2 hours.

Sit in truck for 8 hours to get loaded/unloaded.

Find out that you have a pick-up after you get unloaded.

The only problem is that you have to drive all night to get to the next place.

So, you know that you have to try and get some sleep to keep your reality sleep schedule as normal as possible and try and fall asleep again after having already slept all night, while the people are bouncing your truck around as they are unloading you or beating on your door to tell you to move, or packages have fallen over or it’s gonna cost you $200-$600 to unload your truck, the whole time your trying to get in touch with your company that never answers the phone when you need them and takes 1-2 hours to answer emails and get ComCheck advances approved to pay the lumpers(people that unload your truck for a fee) or pay for Overages, shortages or damages.

Now….try to go back to sleep……So you can drive all night to make your next appointment on time.

…….right

It’s hard to explain it if you haven’t lived it.

Next time you’re in a grocery store or Wal-Mart or anywhere really….

Think of us poor pretty truckers that deliver all that stuff while you sleep.

Oh yeah, before I forget….

Those rules I told you about earlier…?

The reason there are so many traffic jams during the day in most cities, is because these rules that the FMCSA have shoved down drivers and truck comapny throats force truck drivers to be in cities at those times.

Every truck driver worth his salt only wants to hit a city between 2 am and 5 am…..No traffic.

We used to plan it that way….Common sense.

…….not now.

Anywho…..

Back to my day…..

First….I have to check and see if the world has ended.

Then, I have to find a good spot to “take care of some personal…business’
Eh Hmm….

Now…time to make lunch for the day so don’t have to eat truck stop food….

My favorite staple….Baloney and cheese…..Turkey and cheese….on Multi-grain Fiber Wheat bread

….and mustard.

The “Spork”…..the Truckers eating utensil of choice….or necessity.

Pack it into my fridge within arms reach……So I don’t wreck reaching for a sammich.

Make sure my Zesty dill pickles, Cajun Pickled Eggs and emergency mustard are stocked and reachable….

Oh….static guard is a treasured item in a truck.

The amount of static generated in a truck cab could generate enough power a small third world country!

The hanky is for boogers…

I make sure that my “STUFF” is all situated properly and within arms reach and in the same spot each item has been for years.

I don’t have to look for it when I need it…
The Indian drum is for evil spirits….

Breakfast for fat people is awesome when it tastes like bananas!

Don’t laugh and don’t judge!!

I can’t tell you how many times I have walked into a disgusting potty lacking hygiene and paper!
Be prepared…
The sticker is for evil spirits….

I am a professional tourist….

Then, I take my breaks at cool truck stops all over the country and check out stuff….

I unload my cargo everywhere….

Then….I go nite nite!

God willing and the creek don’t rise….

I’ll see y’all tomorrow…

Hey!

Kiss a trucker why don’t ‘cha!

March 28, 2014 9

Out Of Date?

I’m feeling a little bit silly and tired. I drove another 640 miles today, so bear with me.

New Mexico and Arizona are kinda boring….

I’m so tired I think my pecker just fell off….

Okay, now that THAT is out of the way and before I pass out from exhaustion, I know that I must fulfill your daily need for my wisdom and insights.

Let us begin…..

You know what the beauty part about being ME is?

Any criticism….any insult…any well intentioned or unwarranted advice….anything…,Can be turned to the positive in my own mind.

Well, maybe not the positive so to say.

The CONVINCED….!

Just reassuring myself that some people can’t see the beauty in me that I do and that they THEN might misinterpret it as a fault I may or may not have…is taxing sometimes.

Silly people…..

They just don’t know….and I can’t fault them for that.

They don’t exist on the same conscious level that I do, nor appreciate the burden, nay the right I have to lord it over them to my own advantage.

You may say that I am full of crap.

I beg to differ.

You show me ONE time that I did not fail to succeed in convincing myself that I am a gift from God and here for a reason.

The reason you ask?

Okay…just this one time.

I won’t tell you again, because this moment….this very moment…should be engraved across your heart and branded to your soul.

A once in a lifetime event…

Pay attention because I have so little time for mere mortals these days….

The reason is…

I am insane.

Hold on a damn minute!

Yes, I know….insane tends to have a negative connotation associated with it, but that’s only the people whom have no concept of what real insanity entails within its full spectrums and definitions.

First….who says insanity is a bad thing?

Some psychiatrists…?

“Pfffttt!”

Second….who defined normal? What IS normal?

Third…who decided what handsome is…what sexy is…what gifted is…what life SHOULD be?

You know who decided all this?

Whitey…that’s right….honkies….crackers….

I know…you say I am a white man myself. I beg to differ.

I am more like…egg shell white

Even though I was born a poor black child with an Asian mother and an Eskimo father in the bayous of Mississippi I knew that I was special and that I had to be wary of Whitey.

My dad told me they found me by some railroad tracks eating spiders….

As I grew older and came to grips with the fact that Whitey was trying to keep me down, I began to rebel and cast off the chains that the honky man was trying to burden me with.

Then, when God came down and told me I was awesome, I not only realized that I was being discriminated against by Whitey, but by Darkies…Chinesezs…Canadiansez…Seventh Day Adventistsez and so on.

I expected this…..

God told me that people would not understand me.

He told me that I must remain aloof of the peasantry and try to be patient with them due to the fact that NOTHING like me had ever came along before….except Jesus….

He’s a whole ‘nether ball of wax.

It was a cross that I had to bear [Note: Send royalty check to Jesus]

Everything went great as I continued to grow older.

I was handsome, smart, witty, humble, handsome and smart.

Everything that a young narcissists would want to be…

Until this morning….

I couldn’t find my keys again.

I know I just had them.

For hell sakes, I’m in a semi-truck that has about 10 square feet in the living part (meaning where I can put my shoes on) and I’ve lost my dang keys.

I went thru the same rituals that I have several times. I tore apart the inside of my truck, I overturned my mattress, I even looked in my pants pockets because I know some of you regular readers of my posts are thinking that right now….They’re in his pocket!

Noo (smart asses) They’re not in my pockets.

They were inside my refrigerator.

I don’t know how they got there, because I don’t remember going into a fridge that I had forgot I had.

Maybe that’s where the smell is coming from….

That’s when I started to question God and his statements he made to me, oh soo long ago.

I asked “God…why doth thou tormenteth me soeth?”

No answer….

You have to talk Biblical to God.

I asked “God…whometh betrayeth meyeth by hidingeth my keyseth?”

No answer….

I asked “Godeth….where for art thoueth in yonder holler?”

Romeo sayeth “Here I is!” then…. (sorry about that….)

“I’m busy right now” God said

“Too busy for me…?” I replied “WTF!?”

Well, I thought it….You don’t talk ugly to God.

Only when playing darts or bowling….he understands that…..

“I have no time for a unit out of warranty, especially a high end defective unit” God said…then I heard a click….some elevator music…

I was redirected to a voicemail prompt.

I hung up the God phone in my head.

“Out of warranty…?” I thought to myself.

Then, I remembereth!

I jerked the tag outta my butt and read this:

“30 year warranty, with NORMAL usage!”

Oh shit!

I’ve been out of warranty for 19 freaking years!?

Are you telling me…that I could have turned in all this sagging, broken ass shit 19 years ago, and got a whole new thingee!?

I was beside myself….so I turned and beat the shit out of him.

I was so mad this morning about this heavenly snub that I almost decided to join the other team.

I called Satan…

[Funky Town music] click…”Jase?” (Accent…groovy)

“Yes, I’d like to speak to Satan please”

“In reference to what?” asked the Minion

“I’m mad at God for not fulfilling his end of the bargain and forgetting to inform me that I was no longer under warranty, I wanna tour your facilities and speak with someone about joining your team”

“I’m sorry sir, but we no longer accept anything made before 1972, please wait for transfer”

“Wait!”

Click…click… [Funky Cold Medina music] …click

“Sunnyside Nursing Home” said a nice voice.

I hung up my Satan phone.

Cast out! Shunned! Forsaken!

That’s it! I no longer recognize the aforementioned deities!

I will enwrap myself in my narcissistic wonderland and never come out…!

Except to pee….

And blog……

March 24, 2014 5

Talk From Tucumcari

I am parked in Tucumcari, New Mexico.

I am back to driving all 48 states and Canada (Coming for you Quiall!)

I am so tired my eyeballs just fell out….

Please forgive me if this is sort of rambling…

Just wondering away….

As I drive around this beautiful country of ours it’s needless to say that I have lots of time and miles to do nothing but let my mind wander to and fro about life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.

Not really…I spend a lot of that time munching on Cheetos, listening to audio books, radio classics, ESPN and trying to find an unobservable place to pee.

Happiness achieved…

I have a little notepad to jot things down when I think of something I’d like to write about.

I heard or read somewheres that all writers or authors worth their salt have a little pad of their own for just such inspirations.

I wanna be like y’all when I grow up.

….gotta get me a voice recording thingee too….

I tend to wreck my big rig if I don’t watch the road….

Ever since I became the greatest thing to hit the Land of WordPressia since the delete button I have become more interested in what people have to say thru their words and HOW they say it.

I have come to the conclusion that y’all are all a bunch of hacks and have no talent whatsoever and should be euthanized as soon as possible….

Not really….

I WUB OOO….

I am still amazed at the differing levels of talent, the range of interests and the sense of community that I have seen and been blessed to become a part of.

The followers of my blogs are a loyal bunch.

I think they all live in Scotland somewhere….

I get good advice, critiques and praise for a job well done, but not from the turkey in Vegas…..

; )

Love ya Nae Nae!

The rest of you suck!

Except for that Yankee scum Bialczak, I dig his vibe!

Not really….I hate all Canadians and Yankees.

(smooch)

The blogs, poems, photography, poetry (is that the same thing as a poem?) subjects, feelings, opinions, stories, rants and general artistry of the contributing writers is, too put it simply, a little over-whelming for the new guy.

I have only had my blog since last July and I have 325+ followers.

I know that most of them don’t all read my stuff or even follow me anymore.

I don’t mind, maybe I am too inane for them ;P

But I love my loyal 20 followers.

The rest of you deserters can blow me!

I don’t mean that in a mean way.

The level of sophistry I have witnessed thru this blogging medium has actually increased my admiration for the authors that I adore, and appreciate the level of understanding for their commitment and craft.

I hope I’m as creative and on the ball when I’m an 87 year old like my ideal reader English professor that takes the time to teach me grammar stuff and tell me when I’m being a dink.

It’s amazing to me that people can actually stay focused on a project long enough to write a novel.

I can’t even fathom that kind of commitment…

I’m too…what’s a good word for it…?

Oh….Lazy.

The passion to create must be like a drug or sex toy or something….

Hell, I can’t stay focused long enough to…

Just for fun, here are my favorite books (to this point) and authors in order:

5) Stephen King (The Shining, November 22 1963, The Stand, Dr. Sleep)

4) John Grisham (A Time to Kill, A Painted House, Sycamore Row)

3) Alexander Dumas’ (The Count of Monte Cristo, The 3 Musketeers)

2) Nelson DeMille, David Baldacci or Jack Higgins (I just like spy novels)

1) Charles Dickens/John Steinbeck (David Copperfield, Grapes of Wrath)

**Honorable mention Miguel De Cervantes and the immortal “Don Quixote”

When I start to get too big for my britches I will think Of Chuck Dickens’ and Steinbeck’s God like talents… and think “See Trey, you really do suck” then I’ll kill myself and be famous like Hemingway (what a loss)

I promise I won’t kill myself…God! Y’all are so needy….

Not really….

If I could ever be the shadow of a pimple on Dickens’ ass, I would be a happy pimple.

I’ll be happy if I’m as good as Jack London….that’s not too much to hope for!

Dare to dream…..

It is wondrous to see the true gift of human thought….What can be thought up, can be created.

In ANY form…..like a paper clip or finger-nail clippers.

I am humbled by the total beauty that can be described thru the words of man or woman.

Are all writers artists?

It’s hard to say. I’m not a credible scholar or critic. I’m not that bright…..

There are so many levels of talent and ways for people to express themselves that I don’t see how anyone can make a real guess about it.

Here’s what I say…

Anyone that uses their mind for the ADVANCEMENT of art, words, music, or even invention, with the intent of enriching the lives of others is an artist.

Tell me if I’m stretching it here.

Here is the perfect…pure artist:

A) A 3 year old using finger paint whose art makes it to the fridge door and Mommy love’s it.

B) The man that created the remote control for the TV

C) Whoever came up with the idea for musical instruments and the first written word.

D) The person who invented the stapler.

Man…I believe some things are just gifts from….well, providence I guess.

The great part is that there are so many people in the blogosphere that ‘want’ to share their talents and gifts with others without one, SINGLE, selfish intent.

I’m in it for the chicks…

Of course there are those few (millions) that like to be recognized for their work and appreciated.

Perfectly natural says narcissistic me.

I too, will accept worship and animal sacrifice…I know it’s a shock, I’m kind of high maintenance…

But you already know this…

There are others that actually don’t care if they ever become famous or even published.

They do it strictly for the release of ideas and magic….

I think blogging has opened the world to all kinds of possibilities of thought and creativity.

The immediacy in today’s world for the transmission of ideas from one crank to another is going to…wait…

I didn’t mean it like that…

PC version: Opening up contributions and discussion from writer to reader.

Spreading the word….

Casting magic….

Oh man I just thought of this…

Fertilizing the mind with internet bullshit (Get it?)

Yeah, I didn’t think it was that funny either….

I wonder how long it took for Charles Dickens to get his first book published.

Hmmm, I might have to find a biography about him.

Let me look real quick;

That’s weird…they say he was “tragic”.

Is that the same thing as published?

Wow…I didn’t know Dickens was only 58 when he died…

Anywho… (Listen to David Copperfield at Audible.com…it’s excellent!)(Count of Monte Cristo too)

Oh, John Milton’s “Paradise Lost’ audio-book version read by Charlton Griffin is amazing!

I wonder if I will ever change the world….?

I hope one of you do….Then I can say “I knew you when…”

I get impatient with my blog, do y’all? (I mean YOUR blog smart asses! LOL!)

Everything I have read about having a successful, widely read blog preaches patience and “write every day”

If you write it they will come….

I like for people to read my stuff.

I don’t know if it’s because I love attention, but I like to write, and I like people to read it.

Is that self-serving?

God, I hope so.

Dang…now I’ve lost my chain of thought…

See what I mean about focus…?!

Hey look!

A squirrel!!

March 23, 2014 15

Spread My Filth!!!

Like this:

Spread My Filth!!!

Like this:

Spread My Filth!!!

Like this:

Spread My Filth!!!

Like this:

Spread My Filth!!!

Like this:

Spread My Filth!!!

Like this:

Spread My Filth!!!

Like this:

Spread My Filth!!!

Like this:

Spread My Filth!!!

Like this: