Fast Times At Zombie High

"We're not gonna make it!" I said, as we hurled towards the chasm at seventy miles per hour.

The rest of the story after this important message:

In light of the recent posts at One Cosmos, where Bob is talkin' about sleep, death, life, and dreams n' stuff (very fascinating, btw), I figured I would post a dream I had a few nights ago.
A dream with a special guest, our very own Rick! Why was Rick in my dream? Well, I dunno, but I'm glad he was, 'cause we were fightin' zombies and tryin' not to be their next meal. Always nice to have help in that regard, although it's nice to have a friend like Rick visit any time, not just during zombie outbreaks.

Let's show a scene so you can get a better idea, shall we?



Jest kiddin', it wasn't like that.

"It better not be," I can hear Patti sayin'.

Good advice. You sure don't need any, um...distractions when yer fightin' zombies (or anything else for that matter).


Okay, this is closer to what we saw, minus the signs. Yeah, as if ZomGorians are any real threat to our survival...well, come to think of it they actually are, but that's not the zombies we saw.


That's about as close as I can find given the time restrictions I have. Yes, it was during the day, the dream setting that is, although I was dreamin' at night.

Now, to complete the dreamslack production as best I can so that you get O more fuller sense of what I'm talkin' about, there was a cool soundtrack running during the dream. Not loud and blaring, but if you listened you could definitely hear it, and yet Rick and I could still talk and hear each other without yelling.

In a place you only dream of, where your soul is always free
Silver stages, golden curtains, filled my head plain as could be
As a rainbow grew around the sun, all the stars I've loved, who died
Came from somewhere beyond the scene you see, these lovely people played just for me

Now if I let you see this place where stories all ring true
Then will you let me past your face to see what's really you?
It's not for me I ask this question as though I were a king
For you have to love, believe and feel, before the burst of tambourines take you there

Green grass and high tides forever
Castles of stone, soul and glory
Lost faces say we adore you
As kings and queens bow and play for you

Those who don't believe me, find your souls and set them free
Those who do, believe and know that time will be your key
Time and time again I've thanked them for a peace of mind
That helped me find myself amongst the music and the rhyme that enchants you there

Green grass and high tides forever
Castles of stone, soul and glory
Lost faces say we adore you
As kings and queens bow and play for you

Ah, The Outlaws. Is that significant? Well, they are one of the most underrated bands I ever heard, and it's significant to me, including the lyrics.
Anyhow, let's get to the dream, shall we?

They're everywhere, I thought, as I brought down two more zombies in quick sucession with my Winchester.

I had waited until they shambled close enough so I could easily make the head shots.
After shooting them I ran. Fortunately, I was faster than the zombies, but there was so many of them all around me, closing in...slowly...but surely.
I quickly reloaded my winchester, and realized I was gettin' low on ammo. I had a .45 for back-up with a few extra clips, but even if every shot I made was a head shot I wouldn't have enough ammo to stop all the zombies, and I was gettin' tired.

Will I hafta consider the unthinkable? I wondered, looking around for a way out of my predicament.

I had a few minutes 'tll the zombies got close enough. The sun was high overhead but it wasn't unduly hot. Sure, I was sweatin' but more from exertion than heat.
My eyes lingered on some dark clouds on the horizon to the west, travelling east from the Pacific.
Rain would be welcome, if I could survive that long.

Guess I'll go in the direction of the fewest zombies, I thought, heading southwest.
Actually, it looked like there was only a few hundred in that direction, but like the rest they were all converging on me.
They either saw or heard me. Or both. Hell, maybe they smelled me. I was, after all, on the top of their menu.

The city I was in looked familiar but I couldn't quite place it. It felt like I had been here before, a long time ago, before the zombies.

Man, I hate cities. I looked around for any additional weapons I could use as I got closer to the zombies. I passed a few fresh skeletons, their mouths open in apparent terror. Perhaps they were yesterday's menu, I thought, swatting at all the flies in their vicinity.

There was no buildings between me and the zombies. Well, none that weren't obviously overrun. As I got closer I began picking them off, taking careful but quick aim, and making every bullet count. Damn! I missed one. Shake it off. Breathe. Aim...got it. Lever in another round. Aim...shoot. Lever. Aim...shoot.

Not looking good, I thought, shouldering my rifles and pulling my Colt .45. I wasn't doin' too bad, but I missed a helluva lot more heads with the .45. Shootin' a moving target in the head ain't easy under the best of conditions. Add to that: adrenaline, fatigue, and the slow and slight but unpredictable jerking of the zombies as they shambled towards me and I was actually surprised I was hittin' approximately 60% of my intended targets.
The percentage went up as the zombies got closer but that wasn't reassuring.

"Damnit!" I shouted, releasing my first clip and slapping in another.

Fifteen feet...10 feet...getting too close. I backed up slowly, still firing and fighting the urge to panic. I could use my rifle as a club, I thought, but for how long? The zombies weren't abnormally, or even normally strong, but they would still overwhelm me from the sides and rear...soon.

Honk! Hoooonk! Hoooonk!

I jumped at the sound and the zombies hesitated. It was a car! I realized, replacing another clip and quickly looking around. To my right...not a car, a jeep, headed my way full bore. I popped off another few zombies and ran towards it as fast as I could.

Thank you Jesus, I thought, as I ran. The driver screeched to a halt and stood up, firing at the zombies following me.

"Come with me if you wanna live," he said.

"Rick! Good line!" I exclaimed, trying to laugh and breath at the same time. I opened the passenger door and hopped in as Rick did a u-turn and headed back the way he came, towards the ocean.

"Been busy I see," Rick said, smiling grimly.

"What took you so long?" I quipped, smiling back.

"I thought I was a goner. Not sure if I could've..." I continued, leaving the last part unsaid. There was no reason to say it.

"Yeah. I know," Rick said. "Got some water and jerky in the back if you want some."

"What, no cold beer?" I asked, finding a canteen and quenching my thirst.

"Well, we could stop for some if you really want..."

"No, no! Water is good enough. Maybe later we can..."

"Hold on, it's gonna be a bumpy ride!" Rick said.

Up ahead were some more zombies headed our way. Rick ran over a few, avoiding most of them and zig zagged through, hitting one every now and then but not slowing down.

I decided to put my seatbelt on.

"I'm not that bad of a driver," Rick said, as he mowed down a few more zombies.

"It's not you, it's the other drivers I'm worried about," I said.

"Yeah, but the pedestrians are murder," Rick replied.

"Bad side of town," I said.

A few more zombie speed bumps later, we were through the worst of them, but we could still see zombies scattered about, and they headed in our direction once they noticed we were there. The way was now relatively clear though, so Rick hit the accelerator and I let out a sigh of relief.

I hadn't relaxed in Lord knows how long. The breeze felt good and I could smell the ocean. Things were lookin' up. Now if only we could find beer.

Then I saw it. It was a wide chasm in the road. Perhaps 50 feet across. I didn't notice it 'til we were right up on it. No way from the angle we could make it across in the jeep.

"We're not gonna make it!" I shouted, as we hurled towards the chasm at seventy miles per hour.

"Jump!" Rick shouted back, flooring it.

I unhooked my seatbelt and then we were airborn. I stood up, holding onto the roll bars as we sailed through the air. As the jeep began to drop I jumped...

TBC...

I Thank You

I rise at the break of day--your smile sets me on my way
I need you...

See the light shinin' in your eyes--see the hopes that I realize
For you...

I am alone...my odds are long...s'all I can do...
I need you...

Take the road where the eagle flies--man follows where his fortune lies
I leave you...

Shadows fall and the day is done--the curtain calls but more than anyone
I need you

When I feel low...my amps they blow...when I feel blue
I need you...

And I forget all my sorrow, I forget all my pain
I relinquish my doubts at the sound of your name
I can feel your desire when I walk through that door
I believe in the power that can even the score!

Never knew it could take so long--never knew it could feel so wrong without you
They say a woman knows the reasons why--no man ain't supposed to cry
I need you...

When after all...my tears they fall...when I pull through...
I need you...

I love you...

I thank you...

Grati-tude...

I considered grati-Dude but tude won out since it most fits the point-ed

For those who don't know ed, he's me-ed

I'm thankful for so much: God, my family, our United States, and you, my friends, brothers n' sisters under the pelt.

Thank you for your prayers, charity, encouragement, wisdom, knowledge, and humor.
I am truly honored to have the opportunity to know you guys a bit and...I truly do need you.

You know, I have heard it said a man (or woman) is known by the friends they keep.
I hope that's true, 'cause that's a whole lot better than myself. You guys have given me a hand UP, in more ways than one and that ain't no figure of speech neither. You have literally reached out to pull me up many times when I didn't wanna go...

"Hey! Let's camp here a bit longer. I'm tired guys, I hurt, I...not buyin' it eh? Yeah, those are lame excuses I reckon. Aww Ok, fine, I'll go. I sure don't feel like it though. Just so's you know.
Wow! look at that view! It's more than worth the trouble n' pain to get here! I'm honored to sail with you all! Thanks for sneakin' me onboard!"

Yeah, there are times I definitely don't wanna continue my journey of transcendence toward Truth, Goodness n' Beauty, and there are times I can't wait to get to the next port.
I reckon that lately I've been really draggin' my heels, but you guys help remind me of that which I can't forget, and time is indeed short...so...hey, I'm sorry for laggin' behind and not visiting with you as much as I used to.
There really ain't no good excuses, especially in view of what many of the saints went through and the martyrs...their self sacrifice is truly humbling.



I hope n' pray that if I'm ever given the opportunity to sacrifice my life for others (in a material and/or spiritual sense) that I choose to do so without regard for my own life.

Thanks guys! Happy Thansgiving! Now where's the beer?



This post brought to you by Skippy, the best peanut butter in the world. It hasta be if the late, great Charlton Heston ate it.

I need you (revised a bit-ed)

Beware The Phantom!

"Did you make coffee this morning?" Patti asked.

"No, not yet," I replied.

"Darn, I thought I smelled coffee brewing. I must have dreamed it," she said, obviously disappointed.

"Well, go back to sleep and have a cup while I make some," I quipped.

This went down better than our last conversation the previous night:

"I have one of those imaginary toothaches," Patti said, rubbing her jaw.

I knew she meant "phantom" toothache, but...I couldn't resist.

"I got an imaginary headache," I replied.

Well, it seemed funny at the time. Certainly I didn't intend to sound insensitive to her phantom (and material) sensitivities. Okay, I'm not sure what I was thinking. Perhaps I was imaginary thinking...yeah, that's it.

Needless to say, Patti got the last word.

"Yeah, to go along with your imaginary brain."

She jest don't get me sometimes, but she's not alone. I also jest don't get me sometimes.

Stay tuned for the next chapter where I'll be investigating the scene of a crime.
Literally.
Make sure you bring yer detective hats, 'cause there is bound to be mythstery gah!-lore!



BTW, I'm sure glad most American voters are fed up with the direction our neo-commie democrats have been taking our country. There's a long laundry list of stuff folks are fed up with, but the two things most folks are most angry about, at least around here, is the historic assault on our liberties and unprecedented out-of-control spending smug politicians (including the RINO's) that makes the mafia (of all nationalities), yakuza, triad, drug cartels, etc., green with envy.

I mean, really, most folks simply don't like the audacity of class envy pushed by crooked politicians who attempt to legalize stealin' our freedoms and our property (and our children and grandchildren's property).

Not to mention the racism of many of these same scoundrels. They sought to divide us n' conquer us by propaganda n' force (hope n' change they call it).
Instead, they awoke a sleeping giant, the American patriot, and we united to put a stop to this BS!
'Cause nobody, I mean nobody! messes with our Constitution, no matter what they call it and gets away with it.

So, in celebration of our victory (and hopefully many more, 'cause this war of ideas ain't over but we won this battle) I offer this excellent image to drink in and appreciate:



Good dog!

And a bonus!



Yes, we can!

Shinglelarity

What's more fun than gettin' shingles on the weekend? Why, gettin' more shingles than ever before and spreading them out, so most body parts don't feel left out.
Feet, legs, waist, trunk, arms and...ears? And rather than the mostly asymetrical shingle population explosion, these are mostly symetrical.

That means, you guessed it, I got commie shingles. Damn red bastards are everywhere! I reckon some might call it viral justice. You know, "justice," in the vein of the socialcom code word the socialcoms use to "justify" socialcommie BS.
Viruses of the world unite!

Actually, socialcommies are viruses in a literal sense since they attack their host and, without proper treatment, could make their host very sick, even killing it. Plus, they are...pathological...liars. Ha ha. Sorry, I couldn't resist.
The green strain of socialcoms are flush-eating bacteria. Badumdum! Cue cymbal.

Ahem. Okay, I won't give up my day job if I had one.

Personally, I'm more of a fan of justice justice, or, what patriots like to call justice.
I mean, seriously, do socialcoms really believe that stealin' our liberty n' property and giving most of it to bureaurats, thieves n' deadbeats (but I repeat myself), and a very small amount goin' to maybe a few folks who really need it (and are best served by true charity in the form of a hand up rather than a handout) equals some kind of "justice?"

Well, maybe they really do believe that, and maybe they really do have "good" intentions, but they are still dead wrong.
Regardless, I'll save my goodwill n' sympathies for the folks these well-meaning viruses are makin' sick, and yes, killin'.

Yep, when it comes to socialcoms, my pity meter is busted. The best I can muster is to offer some self evident truth's and a dose of reality. But in the end you can't force folks to believe that life, liberty and property and the freedom and creativity that promotes is better than livin' in a hive mentality collective of statist fascism.
A wise man said you can't fix stupid and another wise man said you can't fix a fool (although neither is necesarily exclusivee other).
All you can do is clarify the choices and the consequences.

To paraphrase Sylvester Stallone in Cobra: Socialcoms are the disease. We patriots are the cure.

Yikes, I went off on another tangent. This can happen in the shinglelarity which causes the event verizon to do all sorts of sci-fie crap to blog posts. I don't know what that means but it sounds cool.

I reckon tomorrow or soon I may hafta go check into the VA for some inpatient inpatienting and anti-biotics. Hopefully not. Last time I got shingles this bad I spent three weeks there. But this time I don't got it in my eye, so it should be a breeze. An itchy, burny (hurts like hell!) breeze without beer but still a breeze.
Could be worse (I know. You think I would stop sayin' that, but I'm feelin' up to a good challenge. Or bad challenge with good results? I dunno).

Stay tuned. :^)

The Good, The Bad And The Ugly...

And the Beautiful, the Lie, and the Truth.

There are times I'm gung WhOle, and times I ask myself "what's your major malfunction?" With all the pain and frustration I can't possibly convey with words, even while I know the answer.

You gno what I mean, I'm sure. Everyone that grows, or has grown...transcends...gnos that.

It's no coincidence that the moment we stop transcending is the moment we are no longer gung WhOle.

Anyone who has realized their True purpose (or purposes) knows that finding...or to be more accurate, receiving your purpose is an
O-piphiny. Truly a life altering event.

How do I know? Because it resonates throughout my entire being: spirit, soul, mind n' body.
You feel it, but it's infinitely more than a feeling.

It's a passion...connected to The Passion. And, if I may be so bold, it's not limited to those of the Christian faith.

There was a time I would've cringed at sayin' that, but God is God, which is to say anyone who earnestly seeks Truth, Goodness and Beauty will find it, be they Jew, Hindu, or undecided.
If a good Samaritan can be good and noteworthy to Christ, who am I to say he ain't doin' good?

We will lose Truth, Goodness, n' Beauty if we stop seeking, hearing, seeing, knocking, climbing, struggling...yes, well, again, I'm sure you gno.

For Truth, Goodness and Beauty ain't just confined to the mind n' body. It literally can't be. For it is Eternal.

If there is no spirit (and no Spirit)...and no soul, what's the freakin' point? For you can only go so far until you see the end of your journey with your mind n' body.

The Truth sets us free, right? I mean FREE! Eternal Liberty free! NOT licentiousness, narcissist, anarchy, nihilist "free."
True liberty means there is responsibility, accountability, and a concious desire to Honor the Truth.

The Left view those boundaries as constricting and stifling but it's truly free.
Like a good song, there must be boundaries or it sounds like mere noise.
The boundaries actually make us MORE free because the Goodness of those boundaries help us look within, esoterically. Past our mind n' body. And while our mind, body and physical universe are finite, our soul n' spirit ain't.

Sure, mind n' body seeking truth is better than the socialist/commie useful idiot sheeple way of slavery, but it is still finite. It's still constrained by material boundaries and time.
Afterall, your mind n' body can only go so far and that's the end.

Liberty, Love, Truth, Goodness, Beauty and Faith are infinitely bigger than that.

BTW, I'm definitely not sayin' New Agers are Truth seekers, 'cause they don't believe in absolute Truth, which MUST be for there to be such a thing as truth to begin with.
The relative truther's in the New Age movement are merely embracing spiritual anarchy or at least spiritual idiocy which doesn't transcend...it regresses.

Sorry, I kinda went off on a tangent here. Back to my point: Your purpose, and your own journey ain't no walk in the park. It's hard! It's trying. You will be tested. And speakin' for myself, there are, sadly, many failures.

There are times I not only stop growing and become static, but actually regress.
Thankfully, I have a concience, and it bugs the hell outta me when that happens.
I fervently pray I never regress so far that I sear my own concience and very soul, for that way lies death beyond that of my body, and that would truly suck.

That don't mean it's okay to wallow in guilt n' shame but for me to repent, or turn around and continue on my journey towards Truth, Goodness n' Beauty and everything that entails, such as True Liberty, Love, Hope, Faith, Honor, etc..

To be willing to be molded by our Creator, our Father is often not a pleasure cruise and can be quite painful at times.
The pain is from stuff I wanna cling to bein' burned away. And I have clinged to some of that crap for a long time. Those desires of lust, greed, sloth, gluttony...well, in a word: sin.
Chains.

I gno I can't begin to grow if I'm bein' held down by chains.
Thankfully, my desire...my passion to journey onwards is greater than my desire for all the unfullfilling crap that ultimately leaves me feeling hollow and crappy.

And hey, this journey can be, and has been, very joyous at times. There's lotsa humor to be experienced and realized if you take the time to look n' listen.

The best part about humor is it helps keep me from becoming a spiritual prig.
Spiritual prigs are devoid of humor n' joy, and like New Agers they are bound by chains. Chains that bring you down, man.

I used to ask myself "why did it take a terminal disease and a world of pain for me to realize this and choose this journey?"
Then I would beat myself up and go (and stay) at the regretaday inn.
Who needs excuses when you can flog yourself over n' over?
Hey look at me! I'm really sorry!

"Yes bartender, poor me another shot of guilt n' shame. I'm an idiot. Stupid! Why couldn't I see? Why, after seeing, did I forsake Reality?"

"What's my major malfunction?"

Now I know the answer. No, not just know. I realize it so much it's now a part of me.
It took all that to get me to STFU and listen and be Thankfull!

Why doesn't matter anymore. What? Do I think my sins can't be forgiven? That God ain't big enough? That His Grace ain't powerful enough? Must I read Job again? Sure can't hurt...much.

Hello! What matters is what I choose to do now not what I shoulda done. Trawlin' the past ain't gonna catch me nothin' but needless pain and there ain't no redemption in that foolish bullhocky.
Nothin' of value at all except as a reminder to anyone that'll listen of what fool thing NOT to do.

I gotta hold fast to my purpose and not allow it to slip outta my grasp with distractions, past or present.
Second guessin' ain't no substitute for revealation.

It took a horrible disease and lots of pain to help me choose to be free and embrace the Truth. For that I'm thankfull more than I can express.
I can honestly say that I would experience it all over again if the end result is the same. :^)

Close Call

Last night I gave our dogs a dog treat. It was chicken jerky which they have both had before. After a few minutes I noticed that Skully was having trouble swallowing a bite.

I went over and patted him on the back but he got worse and started panicking. The piece of jerky was stuck in his throat!
I shouted to Patti that he was in trouble and suggested the heimlich maneuver which works on dogs as well as humans.

Then I recalled my Navy first aid training. The first thing you do in an emergency is check and try to clear the airway. It was called ABC: Airway, Breathing, and Circulation (bleeding).
So while Patti held Skully I opened his mouth and could see the piece of jerky lodged in his throat.

Skully was struggling to breath at this point, shaking and pawing his head, gagging and his eyes reflected his fear. Poor little guy! He was also snapping his teeth, tryin' to dislodge the jerky.

I knew there was a good probability of getting bit if I put my fingers in Skully's mouth, Not intentionally, but bit is bit nevertheless.

However, there was no time to find pliers or tongs to do the job.
So I plunged my fingers in Skully's mouth. Not being nearly as dexterous as I was when I was younger I hoped and prayed I could quickly grab the jerky and get it out.

Thankfully, I managed to do just that. If it wasn't for the first aid training I had in the Navy, as well as working as a security guard/janitor at a hospital and the ER (amazing how much you can pick up if you watch and listen), I would've been at a loss.

There is no doubt in my mind that Skully wouldn't have survived a trip to the nearest 24 hour veterinary hospital which is a good 40 minute drive away. and I was unsure if I could properly perform a tracheo procedure, although Patti might have, but she hasn't been a paramedic for over 30 years.

My point is, we should all ask ourselves what would we do if one of our loved ones, a beloved pet, or even a stranger needs emergency medical care?
Basic first aid is easy to learn, especially with the internet, and anyone can save a life or mitigate damage with this knowledge.

It's also good to practice in a mock up situation. This includes ANY emergency. The more you practice, the less chance there will be that you will panic during an emergency.
Time is of the essence in any emergency and you simply don't have time to look stuff up on the internet during one.

The more prepared and trained you are, the better. You don't hafta be a doctor or nurse to save a life. And you never know when you might hafta put your training to the test.
Do yourself a favor and learn first aid. At least you'll know you did everything possible if you are ever in a situation to save a life. That's much better than having regrets afterwards: "if only I had known first aid..."

We are very thankful it all worked out and Skully is in howlin' good health.


We thank God, the Navy Corpsmen that taught me first aid, all the doc's, nurses and paramedics I have known, and the doc's, nurses and paramedics that share their valuable knowledge on the internet and in classes. Thanks. You all make a huge difference. :^)

After last night I will no longer give our dogs jerky or chew bones. We knew about the danger of rawhide chew bones but not the danger of jerky. Instead, they'll get small milkbones or small pieces of meat.

BTW, the milkbones really do keep your dog's teeth clean. We just took our pooches to the vet for their yearly check-up and shots last week. The vet was impressed with how clean their teeth was and askjed if we had been brushing them (yeah right. Good luck with that).
We give them a milkbone (broken up) right before they go to sleep, and perhaps one at mid day. Works great!

Salt Mind

When I dream, I usually know I'm dreamin'. However, that doesn't mean my dreams are any less...real.

Suddenly, I felt weary. Tired. I just wanted to sleep...sweet, blissfull, sleeep.

"Tell me about this war of yours and how you have survived for so long," the old man said, "and I'll give you this salt," he concluded, rotating the salt shaker through his fingers.

Normally, I would oblige, but somethin' deep down...an intuition or hunch, told me not to play this guy's game. I didn't know why, but I did know I oughtta listen to my hunches. Experience is a great teacher, or it can be.

"Why are you so concerned about it?" I asked, taking a drag from my smoke and blowin' it in the old man's face.

I couldn't say precisely why, but I didn't like this old man. Somethin' about him riled me up, especially now that I was focused on him.
He also looked...famliar. Hell, everyone in the bar looked familiar, now that I thought about it. Even Annie.

"Boy...you don't know who you're messin' with," the old man said, gettin' off the stool and squarin' off agin me. He was wearing two six shooters of his own and I had no doubt he knew how to use them.

I got off my stool and got ready to slap leather.

"Look, I only wanna hear your story. What's the harm in that? I don't wanna kill you," he said, his eyes flashin' and betrayin' his real intentions.

"Loose lips sink ships," I replied, grinning.

"Very funny," the old man said, smiling. "But I don't see no ships. No back-up. No, you're all alone ain'tcha?"

In my periphery vision I could see and hear the young burly guys gathering around me. My eyes stayed glued to the old man, but I was suddenly aware there were more young burly guys than I had seen earlier.

Call me a cynic, but I had the feelin' they weren't just gatherin' around to watch the drama between me and the old man. No, they were gonna help him!
Swell, I thought. Well, the bar is called Pain, I mused wryly.

"why can't we be friends?" The old man asked, tryin' his best to look like a friendly old man, his hands out in a gesture of supplication. "There's no need for us to fight. Here, take the salt," he said, sliding the shaker down the bar to me.

"I was just bustin' yer balls is all," he said, grinnin'.

I could hear the burly young guys stirring but one look from the old man amd they reluctantly went back to their pool game while the rest took their seats.

The old man sat down and raised his drink to me.

I relaxed a bit and salted my margarita, or what the bar tender called a miseryta. Funny guy, I thought, taking a drink...which I immediately spit out!

"It's even more bitter!" I exclaimed feelin' woozy. "That's...that's not salt," I said, tryin' to keep my balance.

There was somethin' in that fake salt, I thought. Poison. I mentally slapped myself for bein' such an idiot.

I looked at the old man who smiled that crooked smile. Then it dawned on me: I KNEW this old man.

He was...me, and now he's tryin' to be me again.
I aimed to be my self the best I Am able. That left no room for the old man. Besides, he was nothin' but trouble. I unsteadily faced him down again, and again the young burly guys gathered around me.

"How many times do I gotta put you down"? I asked with a bravado I didn't feel.

The juke box started playin' a well known song:

Hey now, the well run dry
Pages of your book on fire
Read the writing
On the wall

Strange, I thought. It was like a soundtrack to a movie, except I was starring in this flick, but it wasn't acting, it was real.
On the wall behind the old man I saw some writing and I tried to focus to see what it said: You need salt.

Huh? Who wrote that? I wondered. It just appeared. What a strange message. I already knew I needed salt.

Hoe down, it's a show-down
Ev'rywhere you look, we're fighting
Hear the call

"You can't kill who ya are, sonny," the old man said.

"No...I ain't you anymore," I said. "You have no place in my life!" I exclaimed.

"Oh...riiight. You're a 'new man' now. You got the Christ. HE is your hero now...your God," he said with disgust.

And you know it's gettin' stronger
I can't last very much longer
Turn to stone

Damn it! I'm in no condition to fight, I thought.

"Woulda been easier for ya if'n you hadn't spit out the poison. Yer just prolonging this unnecessary fight you know. Now yer just gonna suffer needlessly," the old man said, but he didn't look broken up over it.

"Yeah, well you know me...I don't do easy none to well," I replied, smiling.

"And how's that workin' for ya boy? How are ya feelin', huh? Unbearable pain? No energy? No end in sight? Sick and f"*ckin' tired of fightin'? You yearn for peace, right? And you think I'M the bad guy? Haven't you more than paid your dues? Years and years of nothin' but hurt, and for what? To be abandoned? Tortured?" The old man snorted.

Well there's a change in the wind
You know the signs don't lie
Such a strange feelin'
And I don't know why it's takin'
Such a long time

Backyard people
And they work all day
Tired of the speeches and the way
That the reasons keep changin'
Just to make the words rhyme

"I can bring you fun. PASSION!" He exclaimed.
"I can make you feel alive again! You deserve that and more! You deserve to enjoy yourself...cut loose and replace all that pain with ecstacy! Pleasure! I can give you all that!"

And you know it's gettin' stronger
Can't make 'em run much longer
Turn to stone

I flashed back to the last phone call I had with my Grandpa, 11 years ago.

"I gotta have my leg cut off, Ben. They tell me it has to go or I'll die," Grandpa said, his voice so frail and weak.

It hurt like hell to hear him like that.

"I'm tired, Ben. I'm ready to go home...to be with Jessie again," he said, his voice breakin'.

"Grandpa, I..." My voice breakin' too.

Grief and a sense of loss was breakin' my heart, so much I was strugglin' to breath as white hot tears streamed down my cheeks.

"Ben...I've been on this earth 93 years. It's time, Ben. My time. I'll...We, will be waitin' for you Ben. Remember this, the Good Lord ain't done with you yet. He has plans for you Ben." Grandpa said.

"Grandpa...I love you," was all I could get out.

"I love you too, Ben. You're a man now and I'm damn proud of you!" Grandpa said, his voice sounding strong again.
"Always do the right thing."

"I will, Grandpa." I replied.

"Ben, don't forget the Man upstars," Grandpa said, his voice steeped in wisdom.

"I won't, Grandpa," I said.

"I gotta go, Ben. I won't say goodbye, I'll just say so long," he said, his voice fading. Grandpa always said 'so long' instead of goodbye.

"So long, Grandpa," I said, my eyes welling with tears.

I knew this would be the last time I would talk to Grandpa while he was on earth.

They say "blood is thicker than water." I say bullsh*t! Grandpa and my Nana adopted my mother when she was three. Her mother was dyin' and her father was reportedly of Mexican heritage and had fought in World War Two for the United States. He had left soon after my mother was born, never to be heard from again.
My mother's mom had asked Nana to take care of her and my Nana, and Grandpa raised her as their own.

I couldn't be closer to Nana and Grandpa if they were blood related.
So I learned at a young age that blood didn't mean sh*t. Perhaps it's more accurate to say that the love of my grandparents SURPASSED blood! I KNEW that first hand.

Grandpa was the father I never had. He was a man's man. Much like a cross between John Wayne and Jimmy Stewart, with a heavy dash of Lionel Barrymore. And yet...unique in his own way.
I can still hear his words of wisdom and his deep, genuine and earthy laugh which I heard often, for Grandpa had a great sense of humor.

I fondly recall my Nana's motherly wisdom, and her food...oh man! You ain't lived until you ate food made with the love that wonderfull lady put into it!
She had enough love for the entire family. Nana was truly a saint.

Grandpa and Nana were master storytellers. I was always so deeply engrossed when they told their stories. Stories that sprang to life when they told 'em! Stories I never tired of hearin'!
I can't think of any tv show or movie or any recreational activity I would rather experience than the stories my grandparents told.
Nothin'....nothin' compared to the sheer joy that accompanied their stories.

After the doctors cut off Grandpa's leg, he went HOme. I wasn't surprised when I got the call.
Oh, I was in immense grief and I mourned. I cried uncontrollably in Patti's arms. But I knew...I KNEW Grandpa was finally HOme, with Nana...with our Father. And he was happy.
My tears were mournfully joyous.

As I faced off against the old man I heard Grandpa say: "Do the right thing, Ben."

"I ain't alone you know! I got me some help this time," the old man said, fear tinging his voice.

Why's he so afraid? I wondered, tryin' to shake the effects of the poison.

"You see all them young strappin' men? I teamed up with them to put a stop to yer madness. Yeah. Yer "demons," yer 'mind parasites' as you call them now," he said, smiling cruelly.
"So give it up already and I swear we won't torture you...much."

"I'm all shill shocked over here," I replied, with more confidence than I had.
"So bring it on. Bring your shock n' audacity. I really don't care, 'cause I'll never, ever give up!" I shouted.

"No! Don't hurt him!" Annie cried as the burly young mind parasites moved in.

All hell broke loose. And the juke box increased in volume:

She cried to the southern wind
About a love that was sure to end
Every dream in her heart was gone
Headin' for a Showdown

I turned around and tackled Annie so she would be out of the line of fire.

"You smell nice," I said, smiling. "Stay under that table, okay?"

Bad dreamer, what's your name
Looks like we're ridin' on the same train
Looks as through there'll be more pain
There's gonna be a Showdown

A mind parasite grabbed me by my collar and picked me up with one arm, slammin' it's ham fist into my gut.
I tried to say 'ow' but I couldn't speak at that moment.

I reckon the battlefield mirth will hafta wait, I thought, kickin' the bohemoth in his nether region.

And it's rainin' all over the world
It's raining all over the world
Tonight, the longest night

The parasite dropped me as it dropped to it's knees. I heard, and felt the whoosh! of bullets barely missin' my head.
I drew my weapons and concentrated on the mind parasites first since they were closer.

I took out three of them before they were on me, knockin' my guns outta my hands. The remaining parasites, three of them, proceeded to unleash blow after blow on my face and it was startin' to look purty grim for yours truly.
The beating went on for what seemed like hours, although it couldn't have been more than a few minutes.
I tried to strike back but my blows were too weak. between the poison and the beatdown it looked very bleak.
The old man and the mind parasites cackled with glee.

"Assholes," I muttered.

She came to me like a friend
She blew in on a southern wind
Now my heart is turned to stone again
There's gonna be a Showdown

Save me, oh save me
It's unreal, the suffering
There's gonna be a Showdown

And it's rainin' all over the world
It's raining all over the world
Tonight, the longest night

I heard gun shots and suddenly I fell to the floor like a sack of flour.

"Leave! Him! Alone!" Annie shouted, emptying the gun she picked up on the mind parasites.

She's beautiful! I thought, lookin' up at her still shooting the gun. "Click. Click. Click."

"Annie," I said weakly.

She dropped the gun and knelt down beside me, cradling my head in her ample bosom.

"Are you okay?" She asked, lightly touching my face.

Now I recognized Annie. She is my wife, I thought. Her middle name is Ann. Ann, Annie. God, she is beautiful!

"I am now," I said, smiling. "Thanks hon."

"Here, I need to stop the bleeding," she said, ripping a piece of her dress hem off to wipe the blood off my face.

My eyes were still glued on her dress hem when she bent down to kiss me.

One shot rang out and a look of shock appeared on Annie's face. She tried to talk but nothing came out. Then she fell in my arms as I scrambled to get to my feet. I made it to my knees before I caught her.

"No! Annie!" I shouted, brushing the hair from her eyes.

Blood and tears burned my eyes as I quickly surveyed the damage. There was a bullet hole near the center of her chest and blood was bubbling out.
I immediately put my hands over the wound to staunch the bleeding.

"Now you'll die," the old man said, cackling.

I didn't turn to look. I kept working on Annie. I felt her hand poking me weakly. She mouthed the word: 'gun', and I looked down. She had managed to grab my other gun off the deck.

I slowly reached for it with one blood soaked hand.

So much blood! I thought, tryin' not to panic.

"Turn around and look at me, the old man said. "I'm gonna enjoy makin' you suffer! Ha ha ha ha!"

Please, I prayed. Give me speed.

I whirled as fast as I could, dropping to the deck on my back, my six gun blazing away at the old man.

I saw his gun blaze a look of surprise on his face a bullet hit my left shoulder, ripping through the flesh and hitting bone. I ignored the searing pain and kept on shooting until I emptied my gun.

The old man fell backwards and dropped his gun before crashing to the deck.
I scrambled to grab his gun and aimed it at his head.


"Damn you!" He spit. "Go ahead, finish me off. But I'll be back, as many times as it takes. Then I'll be the one killin' you. I'll be the head honcho, numero un...!"

Bang! Bang! Bang!

"Shut up," I said, quickly turning back to Annie.

My shoulder burned in protest but I wouldn't let that stop me.

"You're hurt," Annie said as I worked to stop her bleeding.

"It's nothin'," I said, fightin' through the pain.

Please! Please don't let her die God! I prayed.
So much blood...

Annie's breathing became labored, and she couldn't seem to catch her breath or get enough air.
Her lung! I thought. She has a sucking chest wound.

I fumbled for my cigarettes.

"Those things will kill you, y'know?" Patti managed to say before coughing, her gasps growing louder.

Fear etched her face as she rwalized she could no longer breath. Then a peace seemed to enter her eyes as she gazed into mine.
She even...smiled. And she melted my heart...again.

I quickly got the cellophne wrapper off my pack of smokes and placed it firmly over her chest wound. Nothin' seemed to happen.

"C'mon! Breath! Breath, Annie!" I shouted in a loud whisper.

Annie took in a loud breath and coughed up some blood but she was breathing again. Tears welled in her eyes and she smiled again.
She tried to hug me but she was too weak.

"Bartender! Bartender! We need some help!" I shouted.

Annie will be fine," he said. suddenly there, kneeling down to touch her forehead.

"Hey, that's my job," another man said.

"Sorry, I couldn't resist," Bartender said.

"You always did have a flare for the dramatic," the stranger said.

Where did he come from? I wondered. Who is he?

"Who are you?" I asked.

"Why, I'm Annie's Guardian," he replied, looking offended that I had asked.

"Guardian?" I repeated.

"Yeah, Guardian. You know, as in Guardian Angel. Sheesh! Don't you read your Bible?" He asked.

"Seriously? That's so cool!" I replied. "That means you..." I began to say to bartender.

"Yep. I'm your Guardian. And I gotta say, you keep me very busy. Raziel, at your service," he said.

"Haniel...at HER service," the other angel said, smiling.

"Angels? I love angels," Annie said, sitting up and smiling.
"Thank you," Annie said.

"You're welcome dear one," Haniel said in a gentle voice.

"Are you going to heal Ben?" Annie aske, seeing that I was in pain.

"Nope," Raziel replied. "And please, don't ask me why. We haven't got much time. Ben, you must find the salt mind."





"Salt mine?" I asked, puzzled.

"Mind! Although you do gotta mine in a mine within your mind," Raziel said.

"Won't you be mine?" Sang Annie.

Huh? I wondered, not for the last time.

"What is this, a musical?" I asked.

Haniel and Annie laughed. Raziel tried to smile, finally finding success on his third try.

"So...since you can't heal me can you at least get me somethin' to get all this blood off my hands?" I asked.

"Of course," Raziel said, throwing me a hand towel.

"Thanks," I said. "Salt mind eh? What do you mean, Raziel?"

Raziel stood up. I didn't realize before how tall he was! He towered over me and was a formidable sight to behold!

"Here! In here!" Raziel said, poking my forehead. "That is where the salt mind lies. You must find it before you can go any further."

"Okay, but can't you give me a hint or somethin'?" I asked.

"I just did!" Raziel replied, somewhat exasperated, it seemed to me.

I guess If I was my Guardian Angel I would be exasperated too, I thought. To say the least.

"If salt loses it's flavor what is it good for?" Haniel asked.

"Good line," Raziel said, glancing a Haniel.

"Wait, you're talkin' about spiritual salt, right?" I asked, feelin' I was onto something.

"No we're talking about Morton salt. Of course we are talking about spiritual salt. Are you paying attention? No. Don't answer that," Raziel said, composing himself.

"Why are you so upset mister Raziel?" Annie asked.

"Because of that," Haniel said, pointing to the old man and mind parasites. "You let them gain power over you. You created them. And there's more. This is why you must go to your salt mind."

I bowed my head in shame. He was right. I have a lot of work to do, I thought.

"I'm sorry," I said. "I know I put you through a lot of grief, Raziel."

"Ahh, it's nothing. Don't let it happen again," Raziel said gruffly.

Wasting Away Again In Miserytaville

I don't know how long I wandered, lost in the fog, or at least a fog of battle.
A battle for my sanity. A battle that felt like the hordes of hell itself had pitted itself agin me.

The enemy was coming, wave after wave, and I was scramblin' to find some more ammo. My body was writin' checks my adrenaline could no longer cash.
Mostly because I was plumb outta arenaline. I passed battle weary so long ago I could no longer remember with any degree of clarity what it was like to not be attacked.

Back to a time of blissful peace, whence I had no idea that the endless (or seemingly endless, as I'm sure there is an end, although I can't yet see it) ranks of pain n' misery were amassing just beyond my horrorizon, all with one goal in mind...MY mind: destroy Ben at any cost.

No, they ain't defeated me yet, but I have no idea how long I can endure this onslaught.
Each step is torturous, every movement burns as my muscles protest loudly, "hell no, we won't go!"
I make 'em go anyway, 'cause I know I can't afford to lose this battle. But even my will is gettin' weary.

Pain n' misery are patient. They know I'm slowin' down, and like a pack of hyenas they prowl my perimeter, sendin' in their lackey's to use up what little energy I have left and no doubt tellin' their commanders, despair n' hopelessness, the battle is almost won.

I curse under my breath at those hyenas from hell, and at the same time I pray for grace...His grace.
Where are my reinforcements Father?

Over there...I see a fifty caliber machine gun, all set up and ready to go. I run for it, my six guns blazin'.
Before I get there a heavy fog closes in, until visibilty is zero.

Damnit! What now?

As quietly as I can I reload my six guns. I can hear the enemy searchin' for me. Growlin'. Sniffin'.

Up ahead in the distance I see...a sign? What the hell?


Now there's somethin' you don't see everyday. Wel hell, might as well check it out.

I entered the bar, more like a dive, really. It was dark n' smoky inside. There was a few burly customers sittin' at the bar, an old man, and a few younger fellas playin' pool at the lone pool table.

I sat down on the bar stool. Man it feels good to take a load off!

"What'll it be?" The bartender asked.

Hmm, he looks familiar, but I can't place his face to a name.

"Somethin' cold n' wet," I replied.

"I have just the thing," he said, laughin'.

Why is he laughin'? I wondered.

The laughter wasn't malicious at all, but it felt...out of place.

"That's a...." I began to say.

"Yep. A miseryta," Mister Bartender said, smilin'.

"Doncha mean a margarita?" I asked.

"Nope. Ya see, it seems someone lost the shaker of salt," he said.

"I...see," I replied, not really seeing at all.

I tasted the frozen concoction and it was a bit on the bitter side.
Not too bad, but it definitely needed some salt.
All of a sudden I realized I needed some salt in a bad way. My body cried out for it and my taste buds demanded it!

"So, where was the salt last seen?" I asked.

"Hell...if I know," the Bartender replied, snickering.

"What, so you don't know?" I asked, puzzled.

The bartender smiled and shrugged.

Great, I thought, lightin' up a smoke.

"Those will kill you," the burly guy to my right said.

"When?" I asked.

The bartender and Old Man laughed. The other customers simply stared at me.

"You look like you been in a war," the Bartender said, gazing at me.

"Yeah. The war that time forgot," I replied.



"Poetic," he said, nodding.

"Funny," the Old Man said.

"Weird," the burly guy to my right said.

"Yeah," I said, takin' a drag from my smoke.

A restroom door opened and a gorgeous dame entered the dive. Everyone, includin' me stared at her as she walked slowly to the bar, hips swayin', long dark hair flowin'.
She was wearin' a black dress...short, but not too short. Short enough I mused, pryin' my eyes away from her alabaster legs (and her chest, and her face...actually, her entire body).

Don't be rude, I thought, lookin' down at my drink.

"May I sit here?"

I practically jumped outta my seat as she whispered in my ear and touched my arm!
Her touch and her voice was like a bolt of lightnin', but not the hurtin' kind.

"Huh? Wha?" I sputtered, quickly rising to my feet.

"No, no. Please, don't get up on my account. I just want to know if this seat is taken," she said, again, lightly touching my arm.

"Um...a...yeah, yes, of course!" I exclaimed, forgetting how to talk.

I attempted to pull the bar stool back until it dawned on me it was attached to the deck.
I could feel my face turnin' red as I took a few steps back.

"Thank you," she said, extending her delicate right hand in a very feminine way. "Mister?"

"Oh, um, Ben. I'm Ben," I said, taking her hand and shaking it slightly.

"I like that name. I'm Annie," she replied.

Reluctantly I let her hand go, but she held on a noticeable second longer and smiled.

"Annie is a good name," I said.

I can get lost in that smile, I thought.

"Look, here it is," the old man to my left said, joltin' me out of my trance, holdin' up a shaker of salt.

"Thanks," I said, getting up to go get it.

Out of the corner of my eye the bartender shook his head. What's his problem?

"Whoa whoa!" The old man exclaimed, pullin' the shaker back as if to protect it. "What'll you give me for it?"

"What?" I answered.

"What's it worth to you sonny?" The old man asked, grinnin' from ear to ear.

"You want me to pay for it?" I asked, tryin' to make sense of the guy.

"Boy, you catch on fast, doncha?" The old man said, his eyes flashin'.

"Okay, what do you want for it?" I asked, playin' along.

"You think I'm playing?" The old man asked, his smile turnin' into a snarl. "'Cause I ain't playin'!"

"Oookaayy," I said, slowly, confused. What's this guy's angle?

"Tell me about the war that time forgot...tell me the details, and then we can talk salt," the Old Man said dramatically.

"Why don't you leave him alone!" Annie shouted, walking over next to me.

"It's up to him," the Bartender said, waving a finger at Annie.

"But he doesn't know," Annie replied.

"Don't matter," the Bartender said shaking his head. "Do not overstep your bounds," he warned.

Annie started to say something but stopped herself, then she closed her eyes.

What in the world? I wondered, looking at her.

Time stood still, as everyone waited for my answer. All eyes were on me. Except for Annie's which were closed.

"Some people claim that there's a woman to blame, but I know, it's my own damn fault."

The juke box blared.

Fitting song, I thought, as I searched my soul.

The Edge Of An Edge

Anytime I stop taking pain meds it goes without sayin' the pain gets worse.
So why am I sayin' it? Well, I needed a place to start and this is a good lead-in to where I'm goin' (as far as I know, that is).

The funny thing is, everytime I begin to take pain meds again I always think it will work better at reducing pain than it does.
It's as if there is some sort of memory lapse in that regard which strikes me as odd.

No pain med takes all the pain away. Okay, there was one period for about two weeks, back when I was on my death bed under hospice care whence, as far as medical science goes, I was expected to die.
Shoot, I expected to die also.
However, contrary to medical science and all appearances to myself and anyone who saw me not only did I not die but I also got better.



Anyhow, when death was imminent I got to take a drug called oxycontin. THAT stuff took all the pain away. Unfortunately, you hafta be goin' through that door from life to death to even have a remote chance of gettin' any of the good stuff from the VA because oxycontin is highly addictive.

Yeah, I know. Doc and I used to laugh about that idiotic policy.
I mean, here I am, terminally ill and Big Brother is worried about me gettin addicted to a pain med that actually works without makin' me drowsy or nauseated.
I didn't even feel high off of it, but I did feel good 'cause there was no pain.
Nope. Can't have that. Apparently, Big Brother feels better knowing I'm in excruciating pain because at least there's no chance I'll get addicted to oxycontin.

Well, as you guys all know, I got better and better, thank God. And very soon after the hospice care ended (and a complaint was filed by a grimmer than normal Grim Reaper) the VA admin pukes told my Doc to stop the oxycontin.



Subsequently, it didn't matter that I didn't go throught any DT's or have any adverse reaction (other than the aforementioned excrutiating pain), proving I wasn't addicted to oxycontin, Big Brother had spoken (thus let it be written, thus let it be done...idiots).

Nor did my past behavior regarding pain meds matter. More often than not I haven't (and don't) take them for any long periods, and only as needed, often stopping for weeks, months, even as much as a few years as a time. Hardly the behavior of a narcotics addict.

But even if I (or anyone else who is terminable) did get addicted to the point where the harm exceeded the benefits, it wouldn't take long for Doc (or any competent doctor) to notice.

The folks who have been clamoring for Obamacare can expect the same (or worse) type of "care."

One thing about govt. bureaurats you can usually count on: they can care less about how much pain you are in, and for the few that do empathise with you they are bound by red tape. And for the even fewer govt. workers who ignore the red tape? You can bet they won't last long.
Besides, how many decent folks do you know who are career bureaurats? They are almost as rare as conservative democrats which are now extinct.

However, there is some good news regardless of (or in spite of) idiotic govt. regulations decided by people who don't give a fig about me or you let alone actually serving us (public service? More like public unions in service of themselves at our expense).

Those thugs can't decide what sort of attitude I'll have. They can't force me to be bitter (like most of them are).
They can't regulate my heart or my spirit. They can never stop me from being thankful for my life, liberty and joy (no matter how much they try to control and diminish it). And they certainly can't prevent me from seeking (and telling) the truth (although they will definitely try).

Lately, I have been taking morphine, and as I mentioned, it doesn't take all my pain away. Not much at all at the low dose I take.
But it does take the edge off, and that's the edge I need.

Be that as it may, EVEN if some political puke (usually of the donkey or ass pursuasion) decides morphine, vicodin, or any other pain med is "too addictive" for me (who can't sue the VA anyhow) I'll still have the edge I need!

Much to their dismay they'll never be able to regulate that edge.
It's as sharp as it's ever been and it'll cut me as quick and as deep as it cuts the scum that try to dull that edge or outlaw it.

Thing is, I seek those cuts, because they make me whole, and they heal, whereas those cuts are like holy water to a vampire for bloodsucking leftists.

Aye, the edge I'm talkin' about is the edge of the Sword of Truth (which has two edges for double the fun). :^)

Monitor Bruhaha

There I was a few weeks ago, preparing to do what I do when:

Suddenly...I'm not half the man I uused to beee...there's a shadow hangin' ooover meee...

Okay, not really. My monitor started blinkin'. Seriously. Off, on, off, on, off..on..off...on, off....until it blinked it's last blink and kaputed. Monitored for a jest cause.

A moment of silence please.

Ahem. Yes, monitor's untimely death was sad, tragic even. After a time of mourning accompanied by colorful adjectives and an unsuccessful attempt at CPR, "live dammit! Liiive!," but my superhuman efforts to revive monitor were in vain so my lovely wife Patti pronounced the TOD (time of death).

Wow! She looked beautiful, radiant and, well, hot!
I imagined what she would look like in a nurses uniform or doctor smock. This mitigated my grief considerably.

"You want me to wear what?"

Unfortunately, Patti didn't share my desire to mitigate my grief further at that time which added to my grief.

Woe, woe is me. Gonna sing the blues...in silence.

However, Patti did order a new monitor and it arrived today. And it actually works!

Ohhh, what a lucky man he iis.

Jest not THAT lucky. But don't get me wrong, I'm grateful. Thank God we could spring for a new monitor. It's very nice, and I like it.

I'm back in the proverbal saddle again.

Incidently, does anyone know how to photoshop pics? Hypothetically speaking, with a nurses uniform? Hypothetically.

Never Negotiate Our Liberty Away

"Instead of being a party of 'no' the Republicans should negotiate with the Democrats."

"I just want to see all of our representatives, both democrats and republicans working together and doing their jobs."

"What the people really want to see is republicans and democrats hammering out their differences, negotiating and getting bills passed. That's what Congress is supposed to do."

I hear a lot of that kind of talk from pundits, the MSM (in general), politicians (mostly democrats but a few republicans as well), activists, some CEO's and even the occasional "man on the street" interview.

Sounds almost noble gettin' stuff done and all. But what kind of "stuff" would that be?
The stuff nightmares are made of that's what.

Stuff that runs on envy and causes divisions among us as a result.
Stuff that erodes and outright takes away our liberties, pursuit of happiness (property), and yes, even life.

Stuff that steals a persons livelyhood with the blessings of the State.

Stuff that coerces and forces Americans to do what the State tells them to do based on crank "science" or just plain in your face nannyism (fascism, totalitarianism, socialism, Obamunism, etc.) be it "green" energy, government bailouts (takeovers) or Obama"care" to name just a few.

Stuff that creates and gives more power to more 'rats (FCC, Czars, Comittees, etc.). The power to tell us Americans (and American businesses) what we can and cannot say, or do without representation.

Stuff that ignores our rights and our Constitution.

Stuff that uses our public schools and our great military as places to conduct social experiments that are detrimental to the mission of each.

Stuff that increases taxes often disguised by using other words such as various fees, "value" added tax, etc.

Stuff that increases prices by forcing businesses to incorporate draconian regulations overseen by (you guessed it) more 'rats.

Stuff that hurts and decreases jobs in the private sector.

Stuff that elevates "empathatic" judges over judges who seek justice.

Stuff that weakens national security and endangers our men and women in the military not to mention every American citizen at broad or here at home.

Stuff designed to help the Obamorg collective and hurt individual liberty.

Stuff designed to transform America from a bastion of liberty, a shining city on the hill to a dark ghetto of chain gangs.
And no matter what gang you may choose (if you decide to embrace these "burgeois ideals" democrats love so much) make no mistake, you will be wearing chains on that plantation.

I could go on and on with all the stuff these slimy politicians wanna "negotiate" over, but this covers the worst of it.

Do most Americans really want our representatives (and a growing army of non-representatives) negotiating for all this stuff?

Afterall, any sucessful negotiation only helps the democrats fulfill their agenda to do all this stuff to us, rather it be in little chunks or big chunks.

Should we thank politicians who negotiated for less oppression?
Ain't it still oppression?
Don't matter to me if it's to a lesser degree, BS is still BS regardless of the size of the pile our politicians want us to step in.
No thanks, either grow a pair and stand against anything that destroys our liberties or get the hell out.

This is why I want a GOP that not only is a party of "no" but a party of "hell no!"
Ideally I want the Democrats to do that too, but so far the mythical "Blue Dogs" appear to be extinct or retired (where are the Zell Millers?).

Anyway, let's take that further, I want my representatives to go one step further than "no" and also repeal all this crap the demorats have managed to force on us.
Every. Last. Turd!

Forget mad scientists, these politicians who wanna negotiate for this "stuff" are far more mad and far more scary because they wanna take what makes the United States of America unique away from us, and drive us into the bog of eternal stench. Slavery of every stripe stinks to high heaven and that's what this "stuff" is, the chains of slavery.

Oh that may not be their intent, but regardless of how good their intentions are that will be the result if they succeed. Even a novice of history like me can see that clearly.

The democrat agenda (ie the stuff they wanna do to us) is a cancer, a tumor inside our country. A Demotumor.
The bad news is it's growing and without treatment it's terminal.

My friends and fellow patriots, our United States is in great need of Demotherapy.

Yeah, it will hurt but it won't kill us like the Demotumor will, and we'll all feel much better after the treatments are over.
Thing is, it takes all of us to make the treatments work because this Demotumor is a particulary nasty strain.
The truth is like an antidieotic to this evil virus and we must all get innoculated with the truth.



At it's heart the Demotumor is envy. It produces a virulent bitterness in those it infects and a deep, dark hatred for anyone who loves liberty or who has more than they do.

It produces the same jealous mindset Cain had, and we all know how that turned out.

Thankfully, unlike Abel, we can see Cain coming, so we can prepare ourselves accordingly and prevent that ambush.



Our Soldiers, Sailors, Marines, Airmen, and Coast Guard is doin' their jobs, above and beyond the call of duty, to protect and defend our lives, liberties and property from outside cancers such as terrorists and a resurgent communism.

We can honor their sacrifices by having their backs and fightin' the enemies of life n' liberty here at home so that they have a home to come back to.
Certainly that's the very least we can do for our Heroes.

Our men and women of honor don't negotiate with their enemies and neither should we.

Let's all raise a glass in honor of those brave Heroes who loved us and our country so much they died for us and everything America represents.
It need not be alcoholic, it's the thought that counts. Skully can drink enough for all of us combined.

And let's say a prayer for their loved one's, their families and friends and ask God's blessings on them, and on our men and women risking their lives everyday so that we may enjoy life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.

May we all work to keep America great and exceptional, humbly holding self evident truth's in our hearts and boldly proclaiming the ideals and principles of liberty our Founding Fathers fought and died for, and that our military men and women have fought and died for ever since.



May we honor them and their memories this Memorial Day and every day.

Have a blessed Memorial Day.

You Shout And No One Seems To Hear

Grueling. It's been a grueling week for me.

I have loaded and unloaded our van twice, taking stuff we no longer need to Visiting Nurses. There was a LOT of yarn since patti can no longer crochet or knit due to carpal tunnel in both hands and arthritis.
I feel bad for her 'cause she really enjoyed makin' baby clothes n' stuff. Unfortunately, surgery to fix the carpal tunnel is at least two or three years away (welcome to socialized healthcare).

Speakin' of healthcare, I got some morphine a few weeks ago. I rarely take pain pills, but sometimes I gotta if I wanna do anything other than lie down in agony and try to focus on good stuff rather than pain, or, if I'm feelin' adventurous, exploring the metaphysics of pain, but that's a post for another time.

Only, there was a slight problem. I failed to count the pills at the VA and soon discovered there was only a weeks supply. Since I signed for them there is no way to prove it.
Agony was delighted to see me after the pills were gone.

This made the past week much more...interesting.

You might say i have been in a state where I let out a "silent scream" but no one hears that scream.
No one but Him, of course.

But what do I say to Him? "Please God, don't hurt me no more?"

Well, it ain't God hurtin' me, I know that much, but I laughed my ass off at the phrase when I read it a long time ago. I dunno where I read it but it stuck with me as funny stuff tends to do.

Lessee, what else did I do? Oh yeah, I helped Patti take all the food off the shelves and move them, followed by cleaning up under and behind them (it wasn't purty I tell you what), and then restocked the shelves minus a few cans of stuff that expired a long time ago.

While I was cleaning I wondered how easy it is to catch hantavirus from mouse turds. It's not the first time I wondered that very question.
Now, I have cleaned up mouse turds before, including several dead mice caught in our mouse traps.
Country livin' practically guarantees you'll get mice unless you live in a hermetically sealed house.

All you can do is try to keep up and kill as many of the little rat bastards as you can. I often think of the slimy politicians we have while performing this task, particularly the scum that our raise taxes and take my liberties away.
Incidently, they love Skippy's peanut butter. The mice, although politicians prolly do too. A dab will do ya.

I also had some garbage to take to the dump, and more this following week since Patti is on a spring cleanin' roll.

Personally, I think spring cleanin' is overrated.
I mean, I don't feel better havin' done all this. Not physically anyway, and I admit that clouds my judgement somewhat.
Yeah. It does.

Sheesh! So what am I blatherin' about?

I'm tryin' to 'splain what I'm talkin' about through my last post and the next. This one too, I reckon, but the last post and next one involves my dreams and my unconcious mind (at least the part I have been in touch with).

Hey, I know I ain't alone and I also know that you guys do hear, and prolly have had yer own silent screams runnin' around in yer noggin's.

I hear ya.

BTW, the movie: Silent Rage, starring Chuck Norris and the late Ron Silver is one of my favorite flicks. If you get a chance you won't be disappointed.
It's a deep but very emtertaining flick IMO and perhaps the best movie Chuck Norris ever starred in.

Update:
Every muscle, every nerve I got, it seems, has been screamin'.
Pain is an cruel mistress.
I often reach a point where I think "ENOUGH! I can't take any more!"

I'm certain y'all know what I'm talkin' about here. That's a lonely place to be and quite frankly, it sucks.

But those points can be THE POINT! The point in time where you do a gut check and...hopefully, choose to FIGHT!!!
That's a place beyond endurance, beyond strength, and beyond all that you think you can be.

A place where you BEcome mOre than you are!!!

Victim Of Lust? Part 3

I always would laugh at Wile E. Coyote when he would run off a cliff while chasing the Roadrunner. The Coyote would be suspended in mid air, defying gravity, until he realized where he was, often raising a sign that said something like "help" before gravity would suddenly work again, punctuated by a little "poof!" in a donut shaped cloud of dust when he came crashing to the ground.









I always thought that was impossible but it was fun to watch, especially since the Coyote never died. Personally, I always liked the cut of Coyotes jib.
I mean, he never quit tryin', no matter how many times he failed, which was every time.
Usually, he failed due to lack of insight, i.e. not thinkin' about the possible consequences of his seemingly brilliant plans.

Much like those stinkin' hippies who prefer Socialism over Liberty, I thought. Except Wile E. didn't try to force everyone else to try his plans.

Other times it was equipment failure, or a malfunction, which made me wonder why the Coyote kept ordering stuff from Acme.

Yeah, I often find that there's a shipload of wisdom in Looney Tunes if you know where to look. Looney Tunes philosophy I reckon you could call it.
If anything it was a helluva lot more entertaining than Sesame Street or some other crappy politically correct show tryin' to brainwash kids with useless dreck, or worse, harmful dreck.

I was thinkin' of this when my sweaty arm slipped from Rick's grasp after a gust of wind threw him off balance, it felt like I was suspended in mid air. Just like the Coyote! Except I didn't have a sign sayin' "oh sh*t!" to hold up. And I was purty sure there wasn't gonna be a humorous "poof!" donut cloud to accentuate this particular scene.

This is gonna hurt, I thought, as the wind furiously swirled and dug at me, it's roar hurting my ears.

F*ck you, I thought in defiance of the wind that, at that moment, seemed to embody the very essence of evil I had always hated.

I thought of God. God, please help me, I muttered. I didn't expect His help but I asked anyway. I was ashamed to ask, but I didn't hesitate to do so.
Almost at the same time I asked for His forgiveness.
Probably just coverin' my bases but I did wanna be sincere.

I flailed my arms tryin' to find somethin' to grab ahold of, but so far all I could grab was a wholelotta nothin'.
I was completely helpless. The thing I most feared. Not fallin', not even bein' blind, but bein' completely helpless.

Now I could finally feel gravity pullin' on me...beckoning me to my decktiny. Cold, hard, steel!

Whatcha gonna do now, tough guy? You can't fight this. I wasn't sure if that was my thoughts, 'cause I was determined to die tryin' to live!
Perhaps I was just kiddin' myself and it meant absolutely nothin', but I didn't care. It was better than giving in to complete helplessness and utter despair.

Call me a fool but I hadta believe there was a Hope that meant infinitely more than whether I lived or died.
Somehow that was reassuring, even though it made little sense.

I found myself, amazed that I could think of all this in what must've been a fraction of a second. I was more amazed I could feel with certainty a living Hope, alive! within me.

As the wind roared in victory, mocking me, I felt a tremendous tug. Suddenly, I was moving horizontally! Was the wind tryin' to bash me into the mast for good measure? I wondered.

Then I landed. But instead of cold, hard, steel I landed on somethin' much softer.

What the hell? I wondered.

"Oof!!" I heard Rick say, feeling his breath on my face.

I could barely make out Rick's face, and I realized I was on top of him.

"Rick!" I shouted. A laugh escaping my lips.

"Rick!" I shouted again.

"Hey pal," Rick said weakly, tryin' to catch his breath.

Rick was a bit on the pudgy side, and always called himself fat, but he was only around 20 pounds over weight, and much stronger and faster than he appeared. He was also an adept martial artist, although he was too humble to ever brag about it.

"Oh man! I thought I had a one way ticket to steelville!" I exclaimed. "Thanks Rick!"

"Yeah, no sweat," Rick grunted weakly. "How's your eyes?"

I rubbed my eyes with my hands and began to see better, although not yet in focus.

"Much better. Still some haze gray and rust in 'em, but I can see well enough," I said.

"Good. Good. Do you think you can get off me now?" Rick asked, tryin' to breathe.

"Hey! What are you guys doing up there?" I heard someone shouting.

I looked down but I couldn't quite make out who it was. I could tell he was wearin' khaki's, and then I could place his voice.

"Sh*t! It's Lt. Goebbel, I think," I whispered to Rick.

"Great," Rick said. "That's just great."

I grabbed the mast and slowly stood up on precarious footing, since there was only a few inches of platform to stand on. My eyes were still too blurry to see where to clasp my safety line from the harness so I just clung onto the mast.

"Sorry Rick, I can't see well enough to go any farther," I said.

"Okay, don't move," Rick replied, dragging himself away from me so he could stand up and reclasp his safety line.

Soon he reached me and reclasped my line.

"How did you save me, Rick?" I asked, ignoring the LT's shouts for the moment.

"When your arm slipped out I grabbed your belt and fell backwards,"
Rick replied. "Actually, I think I tripped," he added.

"Let's go with the first version," I said, laughing.

"Sounds good to me," Rick said, laughing.

"Be there in a minute, sir!" Rick shouted to Lt. Goebbel.

"Can you see well enough to get down?" Rick asked.

"No, but if you can bring me some water I think I can get more of this crap outta my eyes," I replied.

Now that the excitement was fading, my eyes burned like hell and my tears were gushing out.

"Okay, be back in a jiff. Don't move, okay?" Rick said.

"Trust me, i ain't goin' anywhere," I said, rubbing my eyes again.

"Rick?" I asked as he was about to descend.

"Yeah?" Rick replied.

"Thanks, I...I...th-thanks," I said, tryin' not to choke but failing miserably.

"Anytime, Ben. You would do the same for me," Rick said, patting me on the back.

"I'm waiting for an explanation!" Lt. Goebbel shouted.

"What a dick!" Rick said.

"F*ckin' a!" I replied. "What are you gonna tell him?" I asked, composing myself.

"That we're in love," Rick said, laughing.

I laughed for a long time at that.

Later, Rick returned with some water. By this time, most of the paint was out of my eyes, which had turned blood red from all the irritation.

"Damn, you look creepy with those bloody eyes," Rick said. "It's kind of cool though."

"Thanks, unfortunately I got nothin' that goes with them," I replied, smiling. "Can I borrow your cape?"

"Sure thing, and you'll need some fangs," Rick replied, laughing.

"I'm sure Lt. Goebbel has an extra pair," I said, laughing.

"I bet!" Rick said, laughing. "You know, I told him the wind knocked us down but I don't think he believed me," he added.

"Hey! Ben! Rick!" Someone shouted.

I looked down and most of the blurriness was gone. It was Tom. Tom worked with us in the same division, but he was an OS3, a petty officer third class, so he didn't do as much of the dirty work as we did.

"What!?" Rick shouted back.

"Chief wants to see you guys!" Tom shouted. "He said, yesterday!"

"Sh*t!" I said, at the same time Rick did.

"Okay! We're on our way!" Rick shouted.

"F*ckin' Goebbel," I grumbled.

"He's got some serious issues," Rick said.

We hustled to Combat and found Chief sittin' at his desk. We both approached and stood on the opposite side of his desk.
There was five other guys from our division in Combat at the time and they all watched us intently, hoping to catch some juicy scuttlebutt.

"Have a seat," Chief said. "Alright, everybody out!" Chief ordered.

The other guys left, a look of disappointment etched on their faces.
Of course, this only heightened the suspense. Those guys knew somethin' was up and I knew Rick and me would be bombarded with questions later.

"Good Lord! What happened to you Conrad?" Chief asked, gettin' up and lookin' at my eyes.

"Seagull attack, Chief," I muttered.

Rick choked back a laugh, and turned beet red.

"Okay wiseguy, what really happened," Chief said, smiling.

"I was chippin' paint and the wind changed direction and blew it into my eyes," I replied.

"Did it occur to you that maybe, just maybe there is a reason you were issued goggles?" Chief asked.

"It does now," I replied.

Rick choked again and I almost lost it. Chief's face twitched but he maintained his composure.

"Okay, listen up you clowns, Lt. Goebbel tells me he saw you both in a..," Chief paused, shaking his head side to side, pondering what word to use. "Compromising position."

"We can explain!" Rick exclaimed.

"Please do," Chief replied, sitting back and lighting a cigar.

"The wind kicked up really hard and knocked us down," I said.

Rick nodded in agreement.

Chief puffed on his cigar and blew a few smoke rings, and stared straight into my eyes, then he stared at Rick.

"You," Chief said, pointing at Rick, "are not telling me everything. And you," Chief said, pointing at me, "well, I don't know. Your eyes are too f*ckin' red and you look ridiculous," Chief said, smiling.

"Now," Chief said, after a long, uncomfortable pause, "I'm certain you guys are not...playing for the other team, but don't bullsh*t me!" Chief shouted.

"Sorry Chief!" We both replied at the same time.

"I can explain, Chief," I said, looking at his cigar.

"I'm all ears," Chief replied. "And yes, you can smoke."

Rick and me nervously lit up a cigarette. After a long drag I decided to play it straight. In a manner of speaking.

I told Chief the whole story and how Rick saved my life.

"Rick deserves a medal, Chief," I added.

"I just did what anyone would do," Rick said. Chief, I told Lt. Goebbel the wind blew us down."

Chief looked at us both and blew more smoke rings. Then he drank some coffee from his mug and scowled.

"Damn it! What do I gotta do to get some decent java around here? Conrad, from now on you make the coffee. This ain't very good coffee by a longshot but at least you know how to make it."

"Aye aye, Chief!" I replied.

"Here," Chief said, handing us both a cigar. "Looks like you both can use one. Don't worry about the Lt. I'll handle him and nip this in the bud real quick."

"Thanks Chief!" Rick said.

"Thanks Chief!" I echoed.

"Now, please, after you finish those cigars get back to work and try not to act like the Three Stooges, okay?" Chief asked.
"Conrad, first go get those eyes checked out by the doc. That's not a request," Chief added.

"Can I finish the cigar first?" I asked.

"Why I oughtta...!" Chief exclaimed, shaking a fist and smiling.

After I Rick and I finished our cigars I went to sickbay and waited in line.

"What the hell happened to you?" A seaman in front of me asked.

I didn't know him but I recognized his face. He was one of the cooks.

"Seagull attack," I said matter of factly.

"No way! Really?" He asked.

"I sh*t you not. Seagull attacks are well documented," I said, ominously.

They attack women.


They have even been known to attack baseball players.


Seagulls are evil. EVIL!


"You see, I was workin' on the mast when it happened," I began.


Hey, what can I say? It was fun to start some scuttlebutt.

After a half hour wait I saw Doc, a first class corpsman.

"You the guy who was attacked by seagulls?" Doc asked, laughin'.

"Yep! It was hell!" I replied, as he shined a light into both my eyes.

"I told Peppers it was true," Doc said, still laughin'. "You should've seen his eyes."

"Thanks Doc," I said, laughing.

"What really happened?" Doc asked.

"I was workin' on the mast and the wind changed direction," I replied.

"Betcha wear goggles now," Doc said.

"And you'll win that bet," I replied.



"Let me flush out those eyes and you should be good to go," Doc said, flushing my eyes out.

"Try not to rub them, and use these drops," Doc said, handing me a bottle.

"Much obliged, Doc," I said.

"Do you want a light duty chit?" Doc asked.

"No. Why?" I asked.

"Glad to see you aren't a hypochondriac. Your eyes are going to burn, itch, and get blurry sometimes, so just be careful. Get back here if you have any problems at all. I mean it, don't mess around and put it off. I do want to see you in two days regardless, just to make sure everything is kosher," Doc said. "and watch out for those seagulls," he said, laughing.

After work I took a shower and got ready to hit my rack. I was beat.

As I was putting things away Carl showed up.

"Hurry up, man, we got a party to go to!" Carl exclaimed.

Sh*t, I thought. I had forgotten about it. I was about to tell Carl I wasn't up to it but he spoke first.

"Free beer and drinks," Carl said, perhaps sensing what I was gonna say.

"You had me at free beer," I said, quickly getting dressed.



This may sound like sacrilege, but sometimes free beer ain't worth it. This was one of them times.