The Rut

The hallway was dark.

My cousin was standing in said hallway; in the dark as I related, her head tilted slightly, looking at me with seemingly vacant eyes. No, not vacant….

Horror? No, not horror…..

It was…it was…..I got it.

Her brain was locked up. The blue screen of death look….

That’s usually what happens to dope fiend potheads so I wasn’t too alarmed.

I’m used to her bunch taking a trip and never leave the farm. If you know what I mean….

Anywho, she’s standing there in the dark hall, barefoot on a hardwood floor; vacant stare, tilted head, lips slightly moving.

She was making no sound that I could make out but as I got closer to her, I heard two things; one distinctly….

She raised her hand slowly to ward me off but making the gesture for “hold up”

Her eyes slowly found mine.

The look of a person that has lost their soul….

She made a “shush” gesture and mouthed “oh. MY. GOD!”

I made the silent “What’s up?!” face with accompanying hand and shoulder gestures.

Her finger slid across her throat in a cutting fashion….no, no, she was pointing to a door to my right, my uncles door; her daddy’s.

I followed the finger, looked at the door, didn’t see anything, started to turn back to her then…..I stopped.

I heard something….

What was she hearing? What was I hearing, slight as it was…

She was pointing with more vigor and giving heavier shushing moves….

I leaned toward the door…”W#hat?!” my sneaky shushed silent face said….

Her eyes got wider in that “LISTEN closer” wide look eye thing…

I listened.

I heard it. I knew the sound.

It was sex.

There was sex going down in my uncles room and he is 62 years old and he’s not supposed to have sex because he’s too old and not married plus his pecker shouldn’t have even been working…because he’s you know, OLD. And, he’s my dead dads little brother!!

My face now had the “WTF” look accompanied by the token slow head turn of the truly baffled, while the realization spreading across my face as I turned back towards my cousin who’s dad was a dirty sinner.

Next silent shushed face wide eye question: “Who the hell is in there?!”

She looked at me, her eyes narrowing; then in a silent lip sync moment she said…

“Mama is in there with Daddy” jabbing her finger at the door.

Dirty, dirty old people fuckers, I thought.

I looked at her. She looked at me.

I needed a shower all of a sudden.

Then, It hit me…

These guys have been divorced for like 30 years! They probably ain’t seen each other but a handful of times in that span!

Hell, I didn’t even think they got along! She was here visiting her grandson for the love of all that’s holy!!! OMGODDDDD!

The sounds were getting louder and more intense.

The bed was actually creaking! Just like in the movies! Moaning and groaning, springs squeaking, headboard banging, faster and faster….!

I had to run. I had to get out of there….I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t move.

I was mired in sin…..

OMG; I’m gonna puke.

We were frozen to the spot.

Trapped by the sinful sex romp shadow demons that floated around us….grunting, humping and porking!

“Ugh ugh argh argh, yesss, yesss, oh I got a cramp! Bang bang, fucking creak!!!

Just like in the freaking pornos.

Minus the saxophone….

I don’t remember too much after we heard her saintly mother cry out “punch it, dick ninja!” “It’s getting away!

“I got it!” “I got it, Mamasita!” the dirty Uncle/daddy fucker screamed.

My body ran cold. Her face was ashen.

Her mama…..my uncle,,,,her daddy….were doing the big nasty and liking it!

Can. You. Believe. That. Shit?!

Freaking 62 damn years old and bouncing around on each other with their old person bodies, old man balls, granny panties slung over the bed post, slipping and sliding over each other like two grunting, gasping sumo wrestlers fighting over a corn dog!!

Some people…..

Then…..

It was over.

The noise stopped.

What was said next between the two of them will not be mentioned….

Ever.

Hint: It had something to do with bull riding….

I knew they were dirty fucker people.

I could see it in their eyes.

Here they were….acting like nice old grandparents; kissing babies, cooking supper, drinking sweet tea and sitting by the fire pit and as soon as we turn our freaking backs…..!

BAM!!

They should be ashamed, dirty old people!!

I don’t think I can ever talk to them again or look them in the eyes without seeing Mamasita and Dick Ninja….

54 years old and I have a fresh new scar for my life.

Great. Just what I needed. More trauma.

Thanks, Unc. You dirty old bastard.

My poor cousin.

I think she’s traumatized, bless her heart.

She told her preacher everything; confessed her disgust and shame.

She got baptized a week later.

She sees Jesus in her coffee now.

Check this out, I swear to God! If you can believe this shit;

Mamasita is dating the preacher…..

My therapist told me to write about the dirty old fuckers.

It helped a little. Not as much as the liquor, but it helps.

I wish I could wash out my brain sometimes.

Don’t you?

Dick Ninja? Really….?

Day 2 In Yuma

The title to this days blog kinda sounds like a western novel or movie or something, don’t it?

Uh oh, wayward tangent alert!

Here’s some more “titles” (while I’m increasing my caffeine levels) Yes, I know…I’m a terrible Mormon.

“The Watch” A fast paced movie about minute to minute time travel.

“Coffee Man” A novel about love and survival

“Loading….” A sci-fi mystery about patience and murder.

“Potty Break” Action “packed” cinematic dynamite, edge of your “seat”, “explosive” thriller about letting go…

Ok, I’m gonna stop now, I can see where this is going.

Speaking of potty break…..

BRB

Ok, I’m back. The Potty Break movie had a weak “ending”…..no real substance.

Ok Ok, I’ll stop!

What has gotten in to me so early this Tuesday morning!?

It IS Tuesday, right?

I don’t know what day it is. My phone is off….and I don’t know how to find it on my baby iPad.

Ok, I just figured out that my gps knows what day it is.

It’s Monday Jr?

WTH?!

That can’t be right.

Wayward tangent alert, again….

I just realized that I’ll probably never hold a leadership position in my church because I “may” have used inappropriate language in MANY of my previous blogs.

I kinda cuss when I’m being all emotional and creative….

In my defense, and y’all know this just as much, if not more than me…

Sometimes a dirty word is the only word that can work in certain instances. It takes one to get the EXACT point across: to match the flow of our literary intent….

Or, we (I) couldn’t think of a better word.

In my defense, I only have 33 credit hrs of college. In Texas….

Lets go with the creative juices thing….

Yeah, I’m a Cro-Magnon.

Sometimes I say bad words, think bad things, contemplate mass murder…or is it spree murder?

Hey, you try being a truck driver that goes all over this country, thru tiny towns and big cities and tell me that you don’t feel like running someone off the road!

Good thing is that I can keep fantasy, fantasy. Realistically, speaking….

It’s much more cool in my head; the fantasy part.

I could never kill in real life with the same satisfaction or special effects that I do in my head.

In fantasy dream mode (ok, pretend you’re seeing that daydream thing like they do on tv, with the wavy screen)

Ok, in dream mode, when I kill someone on the interstate (99% of the time its a 4 wheeler; car) there’s lots of screaming, rubber squealing and smoke, metal screeching & crunching, glass shattering and the smell of poop. Oh, and there’s always lots of fire & smoke, blood, guts, people flying thru windshields, the satisfying crunch as my 18 wheeler smashes thru their wrecking cars and over their pavement strewn bodies…..

*shudder in ecstasy*

It puts the lotion on it’s skin….

Thank the holy moly, but in real life, the whole “You’ll not do well in prison” filter keeps me sane.

Plus, I’d probably feel bad later.

Hold up, let me tell Jesus I’m sorry for murder in my heart.

This is my Granny’s fault; all this caring about people and crap.

Social norms…..Not killing fools.

EMPATHY for heck sakes.

Crazy old lady.

She’s the one that took me to church, taught me about Jesus, God and the Holy Ghost!

More importantly, the whole burning in hell thing if I run over people on the interstate, or undress pretty women in my head.

I’d marry them! Don’t be so quick to judge!

I’m a softie but HEY! At least I’m not a sociopath or psychopath , huh?!

That’s good news on this early Monday Jr!

Ok, I gotta go pick up some vegetables and start rolling towards F’n Jersey.

Y’all have an excellent Monday Jr.

TTYT

Back A Bit

I grew up here; in my little hick town; up until the 7th grade, that is.

My daddy moved us outta there just as my voice was cracking, hair was growing in funny places, girls weren’t as stupid no more and just before I was supposed to go into town and see Old Yeller upside the courthouse…

Now, I recollect that I haven’t seen home…for nigh on 35 years, if I’m recollectin’right.

And here I stand….

Weird.

Lots of echoes….

My little League field is still there but, I remember the centerfield wall was at least a mile farther back….and the bleachers only hold tens of folks, not thousands of screaming fans, like I remember .

The old building where I got busted for shooting spit balls out our bus window at folks sitting in front of my Uncle Keatons Barber shop has been boarded up for a while now they tell me, and is probably haunted most likely.

I wonder if that old Coca-Cola cooler is still in there…waiting to bite my hand off.

The high school is now the middle school.

I couldn’t even find the elementary school; all I found was a Dollar General and a Rite Aid…

There’s a big chicken processing plant just down the road from the square and my little down town area smells like blood and guts when it’s hot and humid.

And, It’s hot and humid today…It’s always like that in the hot months; March thru March.

It’s really bad at the Walmart.

The big, smelly chicken killing corporate entity wasn’t here when I was a wee lad; or Wally world.

We always went to the Cagles plant in Pine Mountain to catch the runaway, escaped chickens and turn them into free range eggs and dumplings.

Looking at the town square, thru my 50 year old eyes, nothing looks the same; it looks so small and poor, and so….so….south Georgia.

Wow, there’s Mr Teeks Liquor store, STILL OPEN! HA!! 

He’s still got a big rebel flag hanging out front by the road to, and a sign on the door telling folks to pull up their pants.

Poor, Mr. Teek; he’s black and like, 1000 years old, don’t you know. I find his show of independence and liberty as a business owner offensive.

He’d beat the dust off my ass if I told him that.

He still calls me, that “Clarke boy” and I still say “Yessir” not nigger.

Mr Teek ain’t no nigger…

He just be, Missa Teek..

Still sells RC Cola’s….weird.

There’s kudzu growing and hanging everywhere and all the cars have that layer of Georgia red clay dirt roads.

Like most folks that go back home, I reckon, I remember my home town being so much bigger back then…full of wonder, people and noise; stuff to do.

It’s impossible to believe that it’s been 35 years or so since I explored the darkest jungles and the mysterious dirt roads of my childhood home; or graced the shiny, echoing halls in my elementary school; a different world indeed…

A world full of hostile Cherokee Indians, Revenuers and damned Yankees.

Yep, lot’s different now…

I don’t like this world much, come to think of it.

It’s still quiet mind you but, a different kind of quiet; nobody on the street.

They probably in the house under the AC on the computer writing a stupid blog or posting a Jesus money meme on Facebook.

Nothing much to do outside, anymore, I guess.

There’s trees, creeks, arrowheads, bugs, mosquito sprayers and shit….plus it’s humid as Hell.

Now, for me it seems, there’s only fading memories and the smell of blood, guts and corporate invasion.

The killing of mom and pop was a silent affair.

I wonder if my town remembers me?

If it does, I think it remembers me being smaller.

You think my town feels old, too….?

Do you think a town has a soul?

Me too.

And I swear to you, the ceiling in my old junior high, the new high school, is 3 feet lower…

Do you think that schools have souls?

Me too…

I wonder if a town knows it’s dying like we do, most times?

Probably so…

The killing of mom’s and pop’s kills our towns.

“You got till noon to get outta Dodge” said Walmart, fingering his two ivory handled scan guns.

…and they left because no one came to the rescue.

I was gone too.

I wonder if I’d stayed I woulda noticed any changes?

Probably not.

Afraid Of My Shadow

 

 Can I go outside to check the mail, despite the terrorists lying in wait behind my Prius; just dying to blow themselves up or saw my head off? 

They’re everywhere. 

Probably raping and pillaging at the Walmart, right as we speak. 

Can I go outside and check the mail, without getting skin cancer from a dying sun that pours deadly UV rays thru our Swiss cheese ozone layer, that is caused by bushy, bushy blonde hair-dos and their gravity defying gradients? 

Can I go outside to check the mail without getting Type 2 diabetes?

Can I go outside to check the mail without locking my house and jacking a live round into my somewhat lawfully acquired, legal, 2nd Amendment protected concealed carry firearm? 

“It’s an 88 Megnum; it shoots thru schools”

Can I go outside to check the mail or did they email it? 

Well, if they did email it at least I won’t have to go outside. 

Staring at a computer screen will give you cancer or worse; make me gay! 

I might get hit by a driverless auto-car. 

There’s freaking drones out there too, man! 

(3 hrs later) 

Can y’all believe I just seen a blue butterfly? 

 ….in the summer. 

….in Texas? 

I started out this post feeling a little overwhelmed with life this morning. 

Then, I saw the blue butterfly. 

It landed on my semi-trucks mirror and just stared at me. 

I stared back. 

It fluttered it’s wings.

He didn’t say anything so we just sat there… 

I forgot what I was writing about. 

Stupid angels. 

Messed up a perfectly miserable post. 

Guess I’ll have to be in a good mood then… 

Damn. 

Memorial Day 2016

You never really see the flash of light when you’re killed on a roadside in Iraq….or so the dead soldiers tell me.

No, don’t start with me. I’m not like that kid on that movie.

I REALLY DO see dead people.

This is what I’ve learned from lost souls that go bump in the night….

You “think” you see something out of the corner of your eye but all you really feel is barely a millisecond of the sonic punch against your body, the feeling of…..how can you describe it?

You never knew what hit you?

A flash of pain? Nausea? Taste of blood in the back of your throat? Is that dirt in my mouth?

…..floating?

They had no idea they were being killed.dead

It was just…..over.

[Snapping fingers, echoing]

A bright light.

They all tell me that.

That there was a bright light, a sense of relief; not the kind of relief that you’d figure, I asked them that.

They said “No”, not the feeling of ‘Thank God, I didn’t go to hell” but more like “Thank God, I made it back”

I swear that’s what they tell me.

Let me tell you about one instance:

The I.E.D that was hidden beneath a dead dog on the isolated dirt road outside of Fallujah that killed Private Lykes was so powerful, that his physical body left this earth as a fine red mist mixed with fire and impersonal ripping steel.

There were 6 other troops that followed him into the sky at the exact same moment.

Different lives…different men….

Same fate…

They never knew what hit them either…but still…..

[Snapping fingers, echoing like a distant explosion]

I imagined a queue forming for the entry line at Saint Peter’s gate that morning.

7 young men, newly arrived.

No blood, no guts, no screaming.

They’re standing there, freshly shaved, freshly starched….squared away.

There were more coming…always.

There was also a delay in the phone call to 221 Edgrum Farm Road Bristol, Nebraska.

Private Lykes’childhood home.

Here’s what he told me:

He walked up to his front door about 5 minutes after he died, he figures, but it seemed quicker to him.

He was home, so he just went in,  you know, like usual normal stuff.

He stomped his feet on the Cornhuskers welcome mat. He grinned a little, glad that he was in clean uniform gear.
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He said he still wasn’t quite sure what was going on or what had happened but, he felt….reassured that he was ok….that stuff was “okay” that everything was….”cool”

All the other boys that had reported to the Gate that morning had no idea what had happened to them either but, they all basically said that they were all “cool” “good to go”.

They had all been a little upset and angry, to say the least, about not knowing that they had been killed.

I told them to be glad that they hadn’t suffered.

I’m such a hypocrite…..who am I to try and bullshit these kids?

I guess it’s okay to be a hypocrite when you’re trying to make someone feel better.

Anywho…

There is no truth in the fact that there is no anger, hate, and bitterness in heaven; especially standing outside the Gate where most everyone is trying to figure out what in the heck is going on, what happened and arguing amongst themselves…

Some of the people in the line know they’re dead, others don’t…

They won’t, cant, ain’t gonna accept the fact.

Well, anyways…

Private Lykes wiped his arm across his face. He thought he could still smell the cordite, steel and blood, although his gear didn’t show it.

He was grateful for that at least, he didn’t want to upset his folks…

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He was very glad that he was home, if just for the moment, because not everyone got an opportunity to say goodbye.

The man that had met them at the gate had taken pity on the small group of Nebraska National Guard troops.

You see…they had just got off the plane outside of Fallujah.

They had never fired a shot in anger or protest…never actually set foot on enemy soil.

They had been on their way to a staging center when the tiny man with crazy eyes and sweating brow killed them with the hidden mortar shell and a Trac Fone.

None of the troops were over 24 years of age.

Private Lykes was 18….and still a virgin.

He walked further into his childhood home.

He remembered that he had just been here 3 weeks ago.

His mom would probably think he had either forgotten something or went AWOL before actually getting on that plane. LOL!

Private Lykes followed the sound of dishes clattering…water running……..people laughing.

He looked down at his dusty boots.

Crap….Mom was gonna kill him….

He thought about that for a second and realized how stupid funny that had sounded….and not.

Maybe his mom wouldn’t freak out if he walked across the carpet.

He moved silently to the kitchen door and looked in at his parents; their backs were turned to him.

His mother was washing the dishes, his dad was rinsing, this time.

Private Lykes smiled to himself, wondering why his dad was in trouble……

Mom alaways made his Dad stand next to her at the sink and assist in the “womans work”, as dad would say, when he was in dutch.

“Hey guys!” Private Lykes yelled to his parents backs, they hated that and he loved it!

Dad jumped and turned first, a look of “oh shit!” surprise crossing his face as Mom jumped and turned with a more questioning and “I’m gonna beat that kid” look….you know how mom’s look at their kids when trying to decide whether to kill them or hug them.

That look….kinda hilarious, really. For a fleeting second, He wished he had a cell phone to take a pic of their faces….He laughed.

That was funny….ha….a phone..

…..he shook his head.

“Michael…?” his mom said wiping her hands on his dad’s shirt-sleeve “What’s wromg?”

Moms……..

Dad pulled his wet arm from his wife’s grasp laughing, saying “Woman, cease!I am not a dish rag”

Mom started to ask him “What are you…?” but something went out of her face.

She had stopped when she saw tears in her son’s eyes. Dad looked at him, searching “What’s wrong Mike, did something happen?” “Why aren’t you…?

The Man that had met the soldiers at the Gate that morning stepped around the corner of the kitchen door.

Mom and Dad were surprisingly, not surprised…or alarmed….

“Monica…..David” the Man said.

The Man stepped next to Private Lykes and placed his hand on his shoulder.

Dad didn’t seem to notice that his wife’s wet hands were digging into his arm now almost drawing blood.

Realization…..inuitition….

Moms’………………?

“No” his mom hissed…”No…No…” she started to cry, her fists clenched to her lips.

Dad was pale…quiet.

The Man gently squeezed Mikeys shoulder and told him “Go say goodbye”

Mike didn’t look back at the Man.

He slowly, almost fearfully, walked to his parents and fell into their arms.

They caught their son!

The arms that held him when he had learned to walk, the arms of the mother that had taught him to dance in the living room so he wouldn’t embarrass himself at the prom. The arms of his hero…his Dad, the dad that had taught him to play football in the cornfield behind the house, the arms that had held him high above the crowd to see their Cornhuskers “Fight Fight Big Red!!” they had all shouted at the tops of their voices…

They caught their falling son! They had caught their son that had fallen!

They all stood there together…trembling, holding on to each other, crying, sobbing, gasping, squeezing, oh my God they were saying goodbye and not wanting to….

THEIR BABY WAS DEAD!!!!!

“No one from the Army has called y’all?” the young soldier asked, his voice muffled in his parents hair.

“No, no one” his Dad said.

The Man from the Gate watched too…..and he wept.

He had been alive once, here, on this earth, as a living, breathing man.

He too, had watched his own mother wiping blood from his feet as he had hung there on that tree; he had watched her weep as he had died….

The Man from the Gate suddenly realized he was getting angry…..this was so unecessary, so unfair for these nice people to have to go thru all OF THIS CRAP BECAUSE PEOPLE COULDN’T GET THEIR SHIT TOGETHER!!!

The Man took a deep breath and wiped the tears from his chin.

Private Lykes’ mother slowly pulled her wet face from her son’s chest and looked up into her sons face,

”Did he suffer?” she was looking into her sons eyes, but directed her question to The Man.

“No” The Man said.

“Why not ask me…?” Private Lykes’ grinned at his mother, acting jealous.

“Because “HE” wouldn’t…..can’t….lie to me” she replied as she wiped her sons wet eyes, smoothing the tears from his cheek…

Now she was staring at the hand that was resting over her son’s heart; so quiet……so, so quiet.

His Dad was holding his sons hand as the young soldier began to fade away. “I just wanted to come by….and tell you guys goodbye.” he said.

Dad winked at him, giving his son’s hand a hearty, hearty handshake.

The Man walked over and put his arm around the young soldiers shoulders.

The Man said “It’s just for now”

“You promise…?” his mother asked the Man, her trembling hand reaching out towards the Man.

“I always have, Monica” replied the Man, taking and squeezing her hand in his.

“Bye Mom…Bye Dad” Private Lykes said, giving his dad a half-hearted mock salute and a return wink that had a tear in it.

The phone began to ring and drew the eyes of the parents to it.

The moment, interrupted…

Monica and David Lykes turned back to say goodbye to their son.

Mikey, was gone.

The Man, was gone.

There was a glowing new rainbow magnet on the fridge.

Mr. Lykes looked at it closely, giving a small, quick sob.

Mrs. Lykes put her fingers to her lips and asked “What…?”

Afraid to know…….

“I Promise…” he replied. “It says…I promise”

Limitless

Since this is a new year and everyone keeps telling me that “With God, all things are possible” I went for it.

I have turned over all bad things to the Lord and let HIM deal with it.

Besides, one of my resolutions is to be more literal and condescending.

Well, I love God and I DO believe all things are possible thru Christ.

So, that means I can be whatever I want, do anything I want, soo…

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Today I decided to identify as an African American this morning and I’m scheduled to be Asian, preferably Japanese, around 2pm EST.  

DOWN WITH WHITEY!!

Of course, when I go to bed tonight I’ll revert back to a big, fat, Caucasian, flatulent truck driver with hair on his back and poor sleeping habits.

Tomorrow, I’m a Mexican….

So excited! Mucho Buena!

#BlackLivesMartyr

#SwingLow

#HaikuSoup

#TheAlamoWasStaged

Political Analysis from A Hack

I guess that I’m either multi-politically confused or exist in a highly astute temporal zone where all political or Government speak make perfect sense.

In my observations of the ongoing and seemingly endless drone of “political” commentary that is constantly emanating from our bestest, most respected political pundit spouting critics on the internet, television or satellite “radio waves” (aka Mind Control waves from space) I have reached this conclusion:

We are screwed.
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There is no God, anymore. That’s our first problem.
There is no family values, as once were. #2
There is no sense of community, because of the damn Mexicans, niggers and rag-heads moving into the neighborhood. #3
There is too much free stuff that actually cost too much but, the great thing is, somebody you don’t know is paying for it.

But hey! Guess what!?
You can actually kinda bitch about that, because trust me when I say that you may be a little better off than someone else in this country and you’re paying their share, regardless if they need it or not, they might just happen to be looking for that one good paying job that doesn’t require any experience, education or aptitude.
They ain’t gonna pick no damn vegetables or wash dishes for a damn living!
They get more from food stamps and welfare checks!

“Crank out another baby, honey! We need another $200  month to cover the insurance on the escalade and that touch-up for my tattoo.”

I’ve only been alive for 51 years and it’s all going to hell in a hay basket.
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Here’s a thought…
It’s kind of universal.
I’m going to solve the worlds problems, right now.

1) Follow the Golden Rule, it’s so simple. Maybe that’s the problem…
2) Follow the Buddhist 8 Fold Path to enlightenment. Too easy?
3) For 2 years, make everything in the world that we need to live, $1 per item; i.e., 1 food=$1, 1 bottle of water=$1, 1 bedroom 1 bath house=$1; 2 bedroom = $2 and so on.
a)National debt eliminated in 2 years.
4) For luxury items, such as booze, smokes, dope, boats, casinos, porno stores, hookers, NFL, MLB, NASCAR, NBA, NHL,FICA, MLS…. etc…you get the  point. Charge like hell and over tax the shit outta them!
a) I can see how a “sin” tax could work. If you wanna play, you gotta pay!
Seriously, 2 years!
I’ll guarantee you that people will learn to appreciate what they have a lot more, unnecessary waste will end, recycling will become a religious act and the lost sense of community will return, not in a socialistic fashion but a communalist type of lifestyle. Making each other strong.

Let me interrupt my tirade for a minute and set some things straight before you get the wrong idea of what I’m trying to say.

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Yeah! Right! Bahahaha!

I am not a communist.
I am not a socialist
I am not a democrat
I am not a republican
I am not a liberal, nor am I a right wing wacko.
I am definitely not from the left, wherever the fuck that is….
Yeah, I know, opposite of my right, ha ha ha….
Smart asses.
Now, focus people.

I am a simple, somewhat law-abiding, occasional tax evading, bubble-gum shoplifting, grape sneaking muncher while at the grocery store, NY Yankee hating, rebel flag waving, American Flag salutin’, Pledge of allegiance spouting, Star Spangled banner screaming, Southern born AMERICAN!!!

Just like everybody else in this great, fucked up country of ours.

Except for the Northern aggressors….

Yeah….it seems bad now but, we are still the best hope for the world if we  could just leave the world alone.

They’ve been killing each other for a lot longer than we’ve been around. Hell, they’ve had wars that lasted longer than our history as a nation. Hell, they’ve got vases, chairs, toilets and sex toys older than America!

HOW THE HELL ARE WE SUPPOSED TO KNOW HOW TO FIX EVERYONE ELSE’S PROBLEMS WHEN WE CAN’T EVEN FEED OUR OWN PEOPLE AND MAKE OUR SOLDIERS SLEEP IN THE GUTTER!!!

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Stupid illegals....

We’ve only been around for 250 years or so, people, give or take differing historical claims.

China, the Middle East, Russia and Africa have all had thousands of years of civilization and cultural experience on us and look…..

With all of their art, poetry, government, philosophy and religious disciplines, they still haven’t accomplished what a few rag tag collection of misfits and woe-begons from a small island were able to conjure from thin air; and in an amazingly short period of time to become THE world power.

A shining light on the hill.
A beacon of hope and liberty
A melting pot assimilates the ingredients into a fine meal.
A nation on fire…
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It doesn’t matter that they practically wiped out an entire race of people to accomplish this.
“Step aside, Tonto; this is my house!” “Oh, we need your help to kill the British.”
“Payment? Why yes, we have some nice blankets left over from the pox victims you can have”
It was all in the name of God and country….MANIFEST DESTINY, after all.

We cannot fix all of this stuff that is wrong with our world.
We have forgotten about God, Family and our responsibilities as stewards of our world.
We cannot go back to how it was because we have forgotten how it was and only “exist” now; to make ends meet, despite the fact that the way it is all set up in this country that there is NO END IN SIGHT.

As I drive across this country, I have hours and days and weeks to think about our nation, our world; the things that concern me or just happen to pop into my head.

Here’s some of the things I see all over this country and, its no bullshit.

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What the heck!!?

FIRST HAND!!

1) There is lots and lots and lots of room. EVERYWHERE

2) They say unemployment is up, that there are no jobs. I see hundreds and hundreds of job postings hanging on buildings, fences and signs every month, EVERYWHERE.

3) There are abandoned, vacated buildings for sale, lease or rent all over this country that are not being used in any shape, form or fashion, for anything, sitting right next to a construction site for a new building that looks just like the empty ones that stare at you when you drive by on the interstate. EVERYWHERE

IDEAS ON HOW TO USE THEM:
Homeless houses?
VA homes?
Immigrant housing OR education to become legal folks?
Simple to moderate self sustaining penal facilities.
College expansion?
Grain storage?

I mean, HELL!!! there’s wasted shit all over the place!

There are some unsold car lots in a few states that will blow your mind and they take miles to drive past, and they’re still building the same cars and turning them out!

Funny thing is, China won’t buy them, won’t even allow our cars in China but, we buy the shit outta their crap!
I wonder if  a thrifty Chinese shopper makes a face when they look at a tag that says “Made In America”.
The last time I saw anything that was made in America other than people was a long, long time ago.
I saw a beautifully, weathered, classic patina American Flag in Texas the other day…..Made in Pakistan

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Y'all know any Skynrd!?

There is an airplane graveyard in Southern Arizona that will boggle your mind….Google Earth. Trust me on this

Waste not, want not.
So, why are we always wanting?

The only problem is…..welfare is easy and besides…..we’re getting lazy.

Don’t hiss at me, you know this is all true!

We haven’t been hungry, scared or wanted for anything in a long time.
Remember the roaring 20’s? The one after the first world war? First, we starved…then we made movies and new dances.
The 50’s? Right after WW2 and Korea. First, we were scared…then we bought Chevy’s and made babies.
Viet Nam? Got our asses kicked by our own government without ever shooting a single one of them. Then…we got Disco and Reagan….

I don’t know what God’s gonna do with us.
I mean, its in the Bible supposedly but, that part is being hidden by the Catholics….or is it the Jews….I don’t know.
If we could just figure out what John was trying to say in Revelations with a little more clarity and insight, we may get an idea of what the 2000 year ago apostle was trying to explain how he saw things and relate them for us future folks.
I guess if I had never seen a helicopter shooting missiles, I might assume that it was a dragon spouting fire….
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It’s all in the translation and interpretation, baby.

I don’t think God is gonna put up with us much longer, besides….

With our history and predilection to reliving our own past and mistakes over and over; if we went back to God and faith, it would become another inquisition and extremist zealous fervor that would be unmatched by any previous era.

You think Sharia law or Mosaic law is bad and antiquated?
Answer me this Batman….
How long ago was it that we were burning witches in Massachusetts?

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16 year old Witch

Hmmm…now you’re starting to see.

We are at an imbalance.
It is time for a miracle, or an asteroid.
It is time to admit that we are not supreme, we are not all there is to this.
It is time to realize that if we were meant to be alone, why are there so many of us?
Cancer, you say?
Maybe….

Maybe we are the antibodies.
Just gotta trust in the Great Physician and get the dosage right.

“I grew up knowing it’s wrong to have more than you need. It means you’re not taking care of your people”
poole

“Coyote is always out there waiting, and coyote is always hungry”
-Navajo Proverbs

Bitch Not

Howdy…
Remember me?
I used to be quite prolific on this forum of ours, for a wanna be blogger sans talent or education.
I ran into life, lately.
It’s funny how that happens, ain’t it?
You’re just walking around, doing your thing and BAM!!
Life reminds us that we are real.
Life reminds us that we are human and subject to external stimuli such as politicians, preachers, perverts and easily offended people.
God Bless America….
Life reminds us that although it goes on and on in whatever form it chooses i.e., bacteria, ashes to ashes and dust to space dust, we do not go along for the entire ride.
Life reminds us, over and over, that our bodies will not last forever and sometimes, they just can’t or won’t hold the ghost. No matter how much we pray, fast, repent or
sell the occasional kidney or cornea.

I had an 80% blockage in my heart.
They found it by accident.
I thought I was just getting checked out for a chest cold, I thoughI never get sick, you see.
I grew up on a pig farm. I am impervious to viruses and bacterium.
I have never had the flu.
I hardly ever get colds,
I can’t remember the last time I was ill that was not caused by Budweiser.
My wife gives me headaches, does that count?

“You need a stent”
This isn’t real.
This only happens to other people.
I was scared but, hey! I don’t’ have cancer….right?!
RIGHT!!??
“No, you don’t have cancer”
Thank God for small favors, or perhaps a big one.
I have beloved that are fighting cancer as I type….I have no idea what it would cost in really real pain.

I recently saw a little blind boy, couldn’t have been more than 4 years old, celebrate stepping off a curb using his new blind person cane.
His mom was so excited for him and you would have thought he was Superman….the way they carried on.
Silly, lovely people….

I’m such an asshole sometimes…..an ungrateful asshole.
Guilt feels good.

I see healthy, energetic, talented people brought back to reality by disease, circumstances or just shitty luck.
Oh, how the mighty have fallen, with their bald heads and weight loss, blown off body parts and wheelchairs; their bankruptcy and suicides.

I won’t bitch about my heart stent.
And that goes completely against my nature….about anything, except maybe getting used to this new keyboard.
I have no right to bitch; not over really real stuff.

My heart is fixed, for the time being.
I still have to take pills and I still have to eat like a caveman that hasn’t discovered fire.

I watched the whole procedure as the total strangers invaded my body.
I watched my smoky gray heart on a black and white TV with a little squiggly line bouncing around.
I was amazed when they told me that they would be inserting the stent catheter into my wrist vein to get to my heart.
“But….my heart is in my chest”
I re-educated the physician, pointing to the center of my chest.
The Doctor in Sponge Bob scrubs poked me in the chest, a little right of my poking finger and said “Yep, I’ve seen a few and it’s more like right here.”
Smart ass Doctor with all of his thousands of surgeries and 500 years of school! I know where my damn heart i! It was in my freaking throat!

Do you know what the doctor said during my procedure?
DO YOU!!??
Dr Sponge Bob quotes: I swear TO GOD!!!
“Crap, that isn’t right, I don’t think that;s supposed to spurt like that”
“Hold on Trey, this is gonna hurt like hell”
“Nurse, cut off his pain meds, he’s a tough guy”
“Now where is that dang heart you were pointing at?”
“Hmmph, I think I’m done”

Ha. Ha. Ha

Never let the doctors know you have a sense of humor as sick as theirs.
Reminded me…..Doctors are human, too.
I guess that’s what scared me the most during the whole procedure, I reckon….and afterwards for sure; Kinda like a post operative flinch.
My doctor was a human. Wow….a really real person.
But, it sure helped to have a doctor that laughed when I cussed him out.

It takes a special kind of person to be a doctor, nurse or cop.
Try to remember what it takes to care for a sick hubby, wife or child.
Gets old quick, don’t it.
Now do it for 50 plus years with every conceivable ailment known to man occurring without going bat-shit from all of the sorrow, pain and suffering that you can’t do a damn thing to alleviate other than making them comfortable….
Oh, and try not to curse or blame God.

Now that I think about it, that’s when I know that I won’t have long to live;
When I hear the doctors say “We’re just trying to keep him as comfortable as possible”
I’ll take a cussing, condescending surgeon any day, thank ye.

Anyways, let’s wrap this up, I gotta go to work….yes, on a Sunday.
Yes, I am a sinner.
Yes, I am a pagan heretic…

Okay…
I got my stent. Only cost me $34,342.00
My heart is fine.
I am broke.
My old laptop crashed, that’s why you haven’t heard from me as consistently as you need to.
I got back ahead a little bit and took a chance and bought my own truck; don’t be crazy, I’m leasing it.
I can’t afford $130,000!

New bionic heart…taking chances!
Oh, if any of you are new to my blog I drive an 18 wheeler for a living. Yes, all 48 states…except NYC metro.
Only crazy people go there.
Oh, I’m on a Hopi Reservation somewhere in Arizona, right now.

I get to see places most people only read about.
And yes….this country is beautiful.
Just ignore the politicians, litter, abandoned towns and buildings and places where you grew up that are gone and where there’s a parking lot or Walmart there, now.

I’m not gonna bitch.
I’m pretty lucky, really.
I’ve been blessed to put up with other humans on my earth for 51 years and survived…to a point.

I’ll try and remember…..
I am not a blind 4 year old on a curb….
But, I could have been.
You could have been.

Sunday Message: Nothing is trivial

p.s: I’m glad to be writing again. Even if it’s on this stupid Nextbook keyboard that took 30 minutes longer to type out this post than it should have…..

p.s2: I will not bitch

Where I Was, that day…

Old Me-“Runnin’ behind ain’t you?”

“We’re not working today” *Pause*
“Dude, ain’t you seen the TV this morning?”

Old Me-“No, why?”

“You know those big towers in NYC, the World Trade Centers?”

Old Me- “Yeah….why?”

“They’re gone”

New Me-“….what do you mean, gone?”

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That’s how I found out, that morning, September 11th, 2001. Standing on a sidewalk in Ogden, Utah watching silent  cars go by. People on their porches, people in their yards looking into the sky.

…..Waiting

The skies were clear. Not a plane to be seen….but, they might be hiding in the clouds

I saw a woman pull her car over to the wrong curb. She had a phone to her ear.

She dropped her phone and screamed….

This had to be a dream…

I’ve never seen anyone really scream in real life, not the real kind of scream; where spit flies out of your mouth and you bite thru your tongue….

I ran to my elderly neighbors house and sat on the sofa watching planes crash and people falling from the sky.

The old man said “Why couldn’t I have died before this?

“Not again, just like Pearl Harbor” said Mrs nice old lady.

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That’s when I got scared.

I almost screamed. The biting kind….

Instead, We held hands, talked to Jesus…..and cried.

“A date which shall live in infamy” said FDR

“Just like Pearl Harbor” she had said.

“Let’s roll ” said a man on Flight 93

Think about that.

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