Bad Love Two

Whenever I have entered this attitude, or state of mind I felt liberated from fear, in a sense.
In another sense, I felt a different type of fear. The fear of crippling or killing my opponent, the bully.

Now, don't get me wrong, I wanted to open up a serious can O'whuppass on this punk, 'cause that's usually the only way to deal with them, other than running away, if that's possible.
Of course, in this case running away simply wasn't an option to me. If the bar was full of like minded bikers I probably would've considered running.

I never wanted to fight, but sometimes you just don't have a choice in the matter.
At the time I didn't see the connection that the dive and the clientel that frequented it made the likelyhood of a fight or fights much more probable.
Not as bad as a "pure" biker or redneck bar, but the elements were all there nonetheless.

And nonetheless, it occured to me that there was a possibility for serious injuries to happen or even death.
Problem is, there are times you can't hold back in a fight, or you might be the one seriously injured or killed.

I was thinking of all this at a bad time, and it was affecting my focus causing my reflexes to be a bit off.
My initial plan was to use biker dude's charge against him, executing a nice judo throw, but the guy was faster than I anticipated, and the distraction of thinking about not hurting this punk too bad came with very tangible consequences.

His tackle was successful and I was pushed back away from the bar and driven into a fixed table which had a pitcher of beer on it and a few mugs.
I could hear the two guys sittin' there cuss up a stprm as they jumped outta the way.

I landed on the table hard with bully boy landing on top of me. I heard glass breaking and felt cold beer all over my back. I also felt a flash of pain and bully boy added to that by landing a heavy right hook to my jaw.

Stuff like that has a way of cutting through all your doubts or concern for some punk's well being.

Terrific, I thought. Damnit! Such a rookie mistake. This jerk means to hurt me bad. I kept looking for a dagger or somethin'. This punk wasn't called "dagger" for nothin'. At least I didn't think so. Okay, time to stop thinkin' so much and get down n' gritty, I thought. Along with a bunch of cussin' and some additional anger at the embarassment of getting clobbered from the get go.

I grabbed biker boy by the collar and brought my knees up as hard as I could, pulling on his collar at the same time.
My intent was to throw him off of me and the table head first. The result left much to be desired.
Instead of throwing him head first onto the deck I had only shook him momentarily, 'cause he grabed the table to avoid flying off.

Damn it! Can't I get nothin' right? I thought, frustrated and embarassed.

Bully boy straighted himself up, still on top of me and an evil grin spread across his demented face like a bad case of VD from a hooker that just don't care no more(not that this has ever happened to yers truly).
He let out a hideous laugh and I knew he meant to hurt me as bad as he could and he was gonna enjoy it.
I could hear his pals cheering him on and giving him suggestions as to how he could hurt me real bad.

"Bust him up real good, Dagger!"

"Gouge out his g*ddamn eyes!"

"Rip his f*uckin' ears off!"

"Break all his fingers, too!"

"Make sure to break that f*cking big-ass nose baby!"

That last comment by his ho. Such a sweet lady, I thought.

However, my pathetic attempt to throw bully boy across the room did stop him from hittin' me for a few seconds which bought me some time to try something unconventional. Somethin' I wouldn't normally think of ever doin', but I didn't have time to get too creative. If this didn't work, I was in for a severe beating...or worse.
At least I was in the right frame of mind now. No doubts to fog up my mind. I was good and mad a hell! It was do or die time, and I was outta time to do.

Bad Love

Previously on 24-6...which would be 18...but 18 by itself would not convey the meaning of 24 (-6) that the author is tryin' to get across. Of course, if you never heard of "24" you won't get the refrence so I'm kinda banking that you have at least heard of it.
If you haven't, here's the alternate reference: Previously on Noirth By Noirthwest (but actually taking place in the southwest):

Young Ben decides to become a "bad" boy. Prompted by the observation that ladies prefer the "bad," mysterious, strong n' tough guys who also happen to break the rules.
Of course, young Ben hadn't seen all that many ladies, and the ones he had happened to be in the same dive's he was in, but overall, his Benservation was (and is) generally true among many (not all) young women. Even those who don't go to biker/sailor/cowboy/redneck/trucker/sh*tkicker/longshoremen/yardworker dive's.

Ben is off to a good start, having befriended Luca, the toughest guy he knew.
Luca proceeds to instruct Ben in the fine art of brawling, evading thrown beer bottles, chairs (and anything else not nailed down) tough talk (Bronxish), and all things tough, such as how not to dress.
That's right, badass 101 with the matching attitude. So without further adoo...

Just how bad do I wanna be? I pondered. Bad enough, without bein' an actual criminal should be alright. There's still some lines I won't cross, I mused, smiling grimly at the unintended pun.

Tough guys always smile grimly. Squint my eyes a bit...not too much. God, I look like a f*ckin' idiot! I thought, looking at my facial expressions in the mirror.

I don't even have any crinkles around my eyes, no weather-beaten face, and only a slight hint at five o'clock shadow, from two days ago. At least I got calluses on my hands. But my face is in direct opposition to anything resembling bad, bad Leroy Ben, I thought, disgusted with myself.

I worked more on my expressions. Anger came across pretty good, but I definitely didn't look scary. I could do joy okay. How about mysterious? Arrcchh! What is that? It's like my face wasn't built with "bad" in mind, I thought, feelin' more like one of the Three Stooges than a tough guy.

Damn it! How did John Wayne, Jimmy Stewart, Edward G. Robinson, Humphry Bogart, Clint Eastwood, Lee Van Cleef, etc., do it? I wondered. Okay, try to feel pissed off, I coached myself. Silent but deadly look...c'mon!

"What the hell are ya doin'?" A deep gravelly voice asked behind me, before laughin' out loud.

Oh sh*t! I thought, whirling around to see Luca. He must've seen me.

"Ha ha," I said, barely audible. "Just messin' around."

"You sure looked funny! F*ck! You looked like Red Skelton!" Luca managed to say, doubled over laughin'.

I could feel my face turnin' red with embarassment. Stupid, I thought. There's no privacy in a ship's head. How long had he been standing there?

"So you don't look mean n' bad, hell yer still a kid," Luca said, slapping my back with his ham-sized hand. I nearly lost my balance.

"But look at it this way, you can use that. It's better for you if no one knows how tough you are. And if they're laughin' they'll be ripe fer the pickin'," he concluded, chuckling.

"I...see your point," I said hesitantly.

"Yeah, you'll get...whatchamacallit...underestimatated," Luca said.

I smiled, avoiding the urge to laugh. I wasn't gonna take the risk of embarassing Luca over his butcherin' of the word. I saw a poor sap do that...once. It wasn't pretty.
It was common for Luca to mispronounce big words, or add to them. It wasn't intentional as far as I could tell.
Sometimes he would also try to use a big word he thought he knew the meaning of when it meant somethin' else entirely.

"Ya hear what I'm sayin'? Hell, they'll be sittin' ducks 'cause theys won't takes ya seriously," Luca said.

"I hear ya," I replied.

I hadn't considered that. Luca was right, but I still wanted to look tough. Maybe in a few years, I hoped. Some scars would help. But gettin' scars would hurt, so I'll try to avoid that avenue.

"Ya ready to do some serious drinkin'?" Luca asked.

"Damn straight," I replied, smilin'.

Around eight beers later Luca fell silent and had that far away look. That look that said "shut the f*ck up." Unfortunately, I had too many beers to care so I kept talkin' bullsh*t. I was on a roll...I thought.

"Shut yer f*ckin' pie hole!" Luca boomed.

That caught my attention and I zipped it fast. Sh*t! I know better, I thought. Luca got that way sometimes when he was buzzed, and until now I had the good sense to shut up when this mood hit Luca.

I nervously lit a smoke and took a long gulp of brew. The minutes ticked slowly by.

"Just f*ckin' be yerself, man. I mean sh*t, you don' hafta impress me with that BS. We're pals ain't we? Well ain't we?" Luca asked.

"Yeah...we're pals," I replied, my voice cracking. I sound like a f*ckin' moron, I thought.

"Hey, that's all I'm sayin'. Just be yerself, Ben," Luca said, returnin' from that dark pplace that he would sometimes be drawn into.

Problem was I didn't like myself all that much.

"Hey ain't you too young to be pretending to be a man?" A biker dude said as he brushed me aside, lookin' straight at me.
"That's my f*ckin' stool, boy. Go home to your mama," he said, laughing.

I looked at Luca on the other side of me, but he said nothin'. I was on my own. Terrific, I thought. Well, I did wana be a tough guy. I felt anthing but tough at tha moment.

"Hey I'm talkin' to you...boy!" The biker dude said, poking a big finger in my chest.

Some of his buddies further down laughed. My blood began to boil...in direct conflict to the palpable fear I felt grippin' my rapidly beatin' heart.
He was a big guy. Notmuch taller than me but a lot wider and with at least 50 more pounds of muscle!

"Kick his ass, Dagger!" One of his friends yelled.

Dagger? DAGGER? Somehow that nickname wasn't comforting to me. It didn't take much imagination to figure out how he got it.

"Hell, I could kick his ass," a tatooed biker girl said. They all erupted in raucous laughter.

Damn! What do I do? I thought. I...I...can't back down. Memories of past bullies were suddenly vivid in my mind. I...hated...bullies!
Then I...transformed. An attitude I rarely had known rose within me carryin' many years of anger, rage and frustration. It overwhelmed the fear I had felt and blocked it out.

Ben the boy was gone, replaced by Ben the warrior!

"No," I said, my voice cracking. Stupid f*ckin' voice! I thought.

"What did you say to me you little punk?" Biker dude said, moving closer.

I could smell his rancid breath and it felt like it was chokin' me. I needed air!

"I said no, asshole!" I boomed, standin' up and shovin' biker dude harder than I intended.

Biker dude's foot got caught in the stool next to me and he fell to the deck, spillin' his beer. The guy sittin' there quickly got up and moved outta the way. He wanted no part of this.

For what seemed like a long time it got deadly quiet. Except for the song playin' on the jukebox. Double Trouble by Lynyrd Skynyrd.
Apt song, I thought, my attention focused on biker dude.
Finally, the look of surprise left his face and was replaced by blind rage!

"You gonna pay for that, boy! I'm gonna bust you up!" He shouted, gettin' to his feet.

"F*ck you, bitch!" I replied.

I didn't think biker dude could get any madder but that seemed to do it. He was so mad I couldn't make out what he said, or rather spitted out, but whatever it was it sounded homicidal.

I waited, my fists clenched. Why didn't I kick him when he was down? I wondered. Oh well, I'll haftaknock him down again, I thought, grinning.

Biker dude let out a roar and charged me, his big fists ready to rearrange my face.

"No! Run!" I heard one of the bar maids scream.

MS No Mas

Well now, lessee. After many hours talkin' to MSN techs, we discovered, Patti n' me, with the help of the Dell tech we talked to (a very nice Indian guy who speaks perfect Queen's english) that there ain't nothin' wrong with my modem.

Hence the problem of connecting and stayin' connected to the net was MSN's fault.
We coonfirmed this by switchin' to Netzero, where I have no problems whatsoever, I'm happy to report.

Which means I'm back in biznez! And man O man, do I have a lot of stories jest waitin' to be shared.

Thanks for stickin' around, my friends. I hope to make up fer lost time and write like the wind (preferrably not broken wind).
Or like a breeze anyways.

But first, I'm gonna make coontac with y'all and see what yer up to at yer blogs. Gosh, I sure miss you gals n' guys! :^)
It's great to be back!

Pee-es: My new e-mail is on the side bar. ben62 at netzero.net

Modem Hoopla

Hi guys!

So. Here I am, borrowing my wench's 'puter, 'cause my modem is mangled, inoperandi, kaput, gone baby gone. In other words, it just don't work no more.

So. What the? Oh man! C'mon! I mean damn! Is that all? Anything else?

"Don't worry dear, I ordered a new one, and it should be here on the 29th," Patti said.

Oh I'm not worried, I thought. Pissed off maybe, but not worried.

"Thanks Babe," I replied, afraid to ask what it cost.

I know, let's spend our way outta debt! Works for the guvmint. At least temporarily.
No...it ain't gonna break us. Step away from the negative thoughts. Calm down...
Don't tell me to calm down! Aw, shaddup!

What about the dreams? Tell them about the dreams.

Dammit! I don't have time! But I will...I will, on the 29th. Or someone is gonna pay!

Yeah, I'm gonna pay, I thought, smiling.
Man, these are some freaky dreams. Pretty cool though. Slacktastic, you might say.

I will return.

Hasta La Vista Baby!

When I realized my 'puter was fried (yea, verily!) I wasn't as bummed out as I would expect. Could be the Vista program on the dead 'puter has been a major pain in the asshola, or perhaps I have matured to the point where this kinda thing is like water off a ducks back.
I'm leanin' towards the major pain in the asshola.

I found myself smiling. A genuine smile. Hmm.

"Hasta la Vista you pice of s**t! And good riddance," I muttered, calmly.
So what now? I wondered.

"We can probably afford another one in February", Patti said.

"Not before we get your toothache taken care of. Luxury takes a back seat to your teeth," I replied.

I was serious. I mean, sure a new 'puter (IF it works better than Vista) would be nice, but like a cell phone it ain't a necessity.
Health is. Especially Patti's health. It's a priority! My wife comes first!

Besides...If.She.Hurts...I.Hurt. If you catch my drift. So yeah, maybe there is some self interest at work here, but I really don't like to see her in pain, even if I'm spared the, um, side effects (collateral damage) of that pain, which is most unpleasant.

"I have an idea but it might not work," Patti said. "Why not try the old Windows XP computer?"

"We still got that?" I asked.

Yeah, we do. Patti sets stuff on it, like a table for other electronic stuff.

"Yeah, we do," Patti said.

"Okay, I'll give it a whirl," I said.

"It will probably take a long time to update...if it works", Patti said, tepidly.

"Hey I'm not gettin' my hopes up. If it works, then great. If not, I'm not gonna get my panties in a bunch over it," I said. "If I had panties, that is," I quickly added.

"You're a loon," Patti replied.

A Coon loon, I would've said had I thought about it at the time.

So I hooked up the older 'puter, and replaced Patti's little "table thingy" with the Vista piece.

"Damn!" I grunted.

"What?" Patti asked.

"This XP hard drive is a lot heavier than the Vista one. Not that that's a problem. Just sayin'," I said.

Why in the hell don't they put handles on these things? I wondered. Would I get rich if I patented handles for hard drives and other stuff that don't have handles but should?
Nah! Too much paperwork, I concluded.

But this thought has caused an all out debate between my self and the rest of me.
Visions of endless rivers of grog dance through my head. That's hard to argue with. Anyone wanna help me get a patent on this idea? I'll cut you in on a piece of the action. This could be bigger than the handles on can openers idea (say, why did that take so long?)!

Where was I? Oh, right. As you can see, the XP relic actually works...so far. Don't mind me, I ain't really bein' cynical...much. Jest realistic. Main thing is it works now. I like it a helluva lot better than Vista, too.

See ya in the funny papers, my friends. :^)

In Your Face

This post is dedicated to Kath (Ximeze), who passed away last week at 53, to be with the Lord.

What to write? Well, despite contemplating what to write for days, it only feels right to go with improvisation...from my heart...with one boundary: in your face Truth, which Kath is well gnown for.
But not just that. In your heart.

Ximeze (her pen name) is authentic. She never put on airs or some front full of politically correct platitudes. She isn't an actor striving desperately to be liked.
As an off-road seeker of Truth and a Raccoon in Good standing she was...is...Real.

Ximeze loves Liberty, which is a requirement, if one is seriously slackfull in their pursuit of Truth. Afterall, without Liberty you can't even begin your journey to gno Truth, Beaty, Goodness and Love.
Without Liberty you can't begin to gno God. You need a lot more than just Love to sail that course.

Ximeze knew that well, as her comments at One Cosmos Under God...
One Cosmos
Clearly showed. As did her e-mails, to those of us blessed enough to have called her friend.

Ximeze is generous and never hesitated to help my wife and me after we went through a flood and other trials. She helped us materially, sent some of the best coffee I ever drank (Costa Rican) and gave me some Good advice, which I'll always cherish, during some very trying times. Thanks, Kath!

Ximeze showed us all how best to handle trolls, with some of the very best insultainment you can find. She also knew which trolls were really seeking Truth (even when they didn't know they were seeking), and was happy to pass on what she had learned and Realized.
And she knew when to ignore some of the more insidious trolls.

When I spoke with Kath I knew...Gnu! she understood me. For she knows what pain is and how it can transform one to become a seeker of Truth; a True believer, that welcomes the Holy fire that developes our character.

She gnu that the alternative to becoming a joyfull seeker of Truth is bitterness rather than joy, and what bitterness leads to which is slavery, not liberty.
Indeed, bitterness is a cancer that leads to envy, and Ximeze despised envy in all it's prideful rebellion, which leads to thievery and murder for those who embrace those evil desires.
Envy is the enemy of Good as bitterness is the enemy of Joy. It's clear what it leads to for anyone paying attention to the results of bitterness and envy, on the personal level as well as the political, cultural and religious levels.

That's why Ximeze loved One Cosmos, Dr. Sanity, and American Thinker, to name just a few blogs that cherish the Truth above petty bitterness n' envy.
If you peruse her comments at One Cosmos you'll also find good book recommendations as well as many outstanding articles by Thomas Sowell, Victor Davis Hansen and Mark Steyn, again, to name just a few.

It is among the greatest honor to have gotten the opportunity to know Kath a bit, and I look forward to seeing her when my time comes. I love you Kath. Thanks again for giving me a hand up and not a handout. :^)

Please pray for Kath, her beloved family and her pets...for the Peace of God to ease their grief and temporary loss. Thanks. God bless you all.

I'll miss her love, wisdom, wit, knowledge and humor. And much more. And yet, she is still with me in my heart which is comforting...until we meet again. :^)

Here you'll find some outstanding tributes honoring Kath (please let me know if anyone else wrote a tribute honoring Kath so I can add them):

one-raccoon-passes-on-into-one-cosmos

up-to-bismarck

cosmic-symphony

In memoriam



Thanks to Todd for the beautiful photos of Kath.

Hostel Hostility

My wife says I spend too much time on the internet. She says "it's the internet highway, not the internet hotel (hostel if yer european).

"What about Motel Zero?" I retorted. "That ain't no hostel."

"What are you talking about?" Patti replied.

Sigh. Therein lies the crux of the problem methinks.
The thing is, she's serious. So she recommends (ie suggests, ie lays down the law) a few changes.

Firstly, no more stayin' up late at night (ie we gotta be on the same schedule).
Now, I find it extemely difficult if not impossible to blog during the daytime. There's just too many distractions (IYKWIMAITYD).

Also, we are droppin' MSN dial-up services to save a few bucks which means we hafta use Wildblue, and I wrote about how fascist they are concerning the time they allow one to use the internet without imposing draconian penalties (re: mo' money). I hope they go outta business or at least get some competition out here. Freakin' internet nazi's!

Which leads to secondly, I can only be on the internet highway Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday for a few hours (say what?!). Aye, that makes bloggin' nigh impossible, so is this the end of One Cosmos At Sea? Kinda looks that way, I'm sorry to say.
I mean, it's virtually impossible for me to read One Cosmos in just a few hours, let alone comment or read all the other blogs I love, many of them yours, dear friends.

This has led to a honeydo list on scareroids. Not that there's anything wrong with that. It's not that scary, really, just not preferable, but there'sots of things in reality that ain't preferable.

Change indeed. This following a virus I contracted on my e-mail which caused Patti to change it to usnr_ben at (@) msn.com. That sucked. Put me offline for awhile, such as it is.

Personally, I'm not partial to these changes, but I do admit I oughtta spend more time with my wench, and that's partially why my wench decided to (ahem!) recommend these (cough cough!) changes.

I will do my best to read faster n' type faster in the event I actually have time to comment. Please excuse me while I sing the blues. It has been said the blues can be helpful during times like this. Or at least some songs to commiserate with, while I count my blessings. Man, that's hard to type right now. Okay, I'm thankful I can read n' write again, but I wish I could do it at the speed I used to.

I know, I know. As Skully keeps remindin' me, "you can wish in one hand and sh*t in the other and see which one fills up first."
Actually, I think he's quoting the late, great Burgess Meredith with that quote but it still holds true.
I'll be seeing you guys. More in my dreams than online lately, so it seems my unconcious part of my mind (such as it is) is feelin' the love. :^)