Lyrical Musings

I would first like to thank Mom and Dad for helping with the content of the last two posts. Much like "being alive", I could not have done it without you their input.

This week, I heard five or six songs (fully realizing the fixation on five - I see it too). They contain some of the most personal, soul etching lyrics. They may not mean a whole lot to you, but they shaped the hell out of me. In no particular order, but number one is number one for a reason.

5) "Lashing out the action, returning the reaction. Weak are ripped and torn away."

Are there songs by Metallica that are better? Maybe. Opinions vary. However, this was the first lyric I had ever heard, from the band whose every album would be owned by me, in almost every medium available, at one time or another. Except "St. Anger" and "Lulu"... I don't know what the hell was going on with those... Can't all be winners - the weak are ripped and torn away.

This song, "Battery" starts off with an acoustic melody. I remember my friends in 9th grade warning me how "Heavy" this band was. You hear this opening, and you think, "How hard can it be?"... Then it REALLY starts. If you had not heard of them before... you had never heard anything like this...

This song is seen as a shout out to the "Bay City Bangers", the earliest supporters of the band. In their early days, they routinely played a club, the Old Waldorf, 444 Battery St. in San Francisco. "Cannot kill the family, Battery is found in me."

This song is drive. It is power. It is a nuclear fusion reactor compressed into 312 seconds... It is perfect for the gym. It is perfect for yardwork. It is the song for gritting your teeth, and getting the fucking job done - whatever the job may be.

I remember driving Shelby Summers to an after school skirmish in our senior year of high school and this is the song he wanted to hear to get psyched up. My trusty cassette was at the ready.

This, like a lot of the entries, marks a sonic way-point in my life... There is "Before Metallica" and there is "After Metallica".

The is probably my favorite album, every note perfection, the mixing and production is impeccable. This is the album, if stranded on a deserted island and could only pick one, I would choose as my go to. Much like Charlize Theron is my go to if ever stranded on a deserted island and could only pick one...

4) Tie... ""Hey, Hey Mama said the way you move, Gon' make you sweat, gon' make you groove."

and 

"You ain't seen nothin', til your down on the muffin, Then you're sho' to be changin' your ways."

Ann Wilson of Heart said, "Robert Plant, when he sang that... he WAS sex."

The song was off of Led Zeppelin's "IV". Much like "Battery", it was my introduction to Led Zeppelin. I had heard "Stairway To Heaven" on the radio... And mentioned to my brother's friend that it was a great song... and he tossed me this cassette. Thanks, Huggins. Changed my life forever.

Within a year, I was listening to the last song on that album as I waved bye-bye to my virginity. I am pretty sure it was the same cassette.

This track was bluesy. This track was rock. This track was just nasty. In 1999, "The Guitar" magazine ranked this the 7th greatest, "Riff of the Millennium".

Of course, the song is about an aging canine that hung around the studio while the album was recorded. The elderly dog's only routine activity was "visiting" a bitch two houses away.

Again... Before Led Zeppelin... After Led Zeppelin. And this was my gateway drug.
_____

Steven Tyler never wrote a truer lyric than the one in bold above... I remember every detail about the day, NAY the moment, my life changed forever. I remember gazing upon the object that would bring the greatest joys... and the deepest sorrows...

I didn't even really engage in any activity with it... I just marveled. Looked at it. Might have poked at it like you would, if you weren't sure such a magical thing could exist...

I could feel changes, yes, physically of course, but not just sequestered to the lower abdominal area... No, I could feel synapses rewriting themselves. Brain chemistry altering. Things that moments before were absolutely critical to my happiness and well being were reduced to trinkets... baubles... inconsequential.

Having an older brother, I had seen magazines containing pictures of scantily clad or no clad women. This was different. Shit. Got. Real!

I don't recall the next time I heard "Walk This Way"... But I remember it making a fuck tonne of more sense. I then heard songs I had heard a million times before, and they were brand new... A deeper level of understanding had emerged.

I had applied the "Vagina Filter"...

"Oh... It's is not about a flower... He's talking about a chick!!! HOLY SHIT BALLS! I get it NOW!"

And it was as the great philosophizer Tyler had declared. I had been "down on the muffin", and yes... I was most definitely "sho to be changin' my ways."

3) "Baby, I'm yours, and I'll be yours until the stars fall from the sky."

This is the feels... All the feels. This song has been a part of my life since it began. This is my parent's song.

The song will slay me almost every time. Mostly due to Barbara Lewis' insane vocals. There is a sincerity that comes through in her delivery. She means that shit. She ain't fucking playing.

I have discussed this tune with Mom. "Why this one? The sixties were littered with love songs."

Mom asks me, "What's the first word?"

"Baby."

"Exactly... And the next word is 'I'm', but by putting the other person first, this song was unique."

The one thing I have learned from being around people who have been in a loving relationship for FIFTY PLUS years is just that... It is not just about  you. It is love when you put the other person first AND they do the same for you.

Where you would normally say "I am gonna do X... I have done X before... Never had a problem doing X before". When you stop and say, "Hey... I would like to do X, but how will make them feel?" Shit... you just might have fallen in love. There is no cure and it will, statistically speaking, end badly. JOY!

A lot of the songs from the mid-60's were singers declaring the THEY love or adore a special person. Who gives a damn how that special person feels about it...

I just know that from now, until 2 + 2 = 3, that if this song is heard by my mother or father, they stop what they are doing, they find each other, and they kiss.

2) "Question is, not does love exist, but when she leaves, where she goes."

From the album "Diver Down", the song "Secrets", this lyric will take me to Junior year, high school. Yes, it is about a girl. It is about a girl I never worked up the nerve to talk to. Not that it would have helped...

This is about regret to me. Unanswered questions will always fill me with regret.  I have zero problem making a decision... IF I have the information needed to make said decision...

I think this song resonates to me so profoundly is because it played one winter night while I was cruising the mean streets of Augusta, Kansas. Augusta had a great cruise. You would see your friends. Again and again. Eventually you would park, say "Hey", find out where the parties were going to be.

You knew everybody's vehicle. You made mental notes of where you saw them last... In case... Ya know... You want to say "Hey" later...

It had to be November, 1988... Later in the evening... I remember the cruise had picked up after the Friday night football game. Saw her car on one or two orbits... Then she was gone... Without a trace...

Then the lyric hit...

If it were not the perfect lyric, manifesting in real life, at that moment... it probably would not remind me of her... Every damn time I hear the song.

1) "So. So you think you can tell, Heaven from Hell, blues skies from pain."

Yet another, "Ow... Right in the blood pump!" Pink Floyd's "Wish You Were Here"

I was discussing this one with Mom just last month. I played it for her. I told her I don't know why it caused the emotional reaction that it did.

She said, "You don't like seeing people hurt."

That is part of it... I mean, I have not had a hard life. Hell... I have had a stupid simple and easy life. I can honestly say that any hardships that have befallen my bumbling self were of my own doing.

I have made decisions that led to life not being as easy as it could be. In Augusta, I think I purposely made some less than stellar decisions out of sheer boredom.

This song... To me... It causes the distress because I can always think of a person, in my present or my past, who invariably seems to be zooming headlong to heartache or headache.

You know this person. They describe a fork in the road to you. They lay out the pro's and con's of each path before them. They ask you for your opinion, and you point out the path of least trial and tribulation... and you shake your head as they gleefully skip to the loo down the path leading to ruin.

You want to ask them... Can you tell the difference between Heaven and Hell? Can you tell blue skies from pain?

Now... the hardest thing... is being able to ask yourself the same thing. Am I able to tell the difference?

I do not like seeing people I care about hurt. This lyric reminds me that sometimes, they are going to hurt. And it reminds me that sometimes, you have to let them hurt.

_______________________________

The great thing about music is that I could pick another five songs next week and explain why the lyrics mean so much to me.

As my Dad would be wont to point out, "If all the songs and lyrics are special, then none of them are."

I see his point... I would counter with, "Have you read the same book before, at different times, and it mean something different each time?"

He would then shut it down with, "No, that's your Mother with her Bible."

While true, situations dictate how things are perceived - and remembered. Thankfully, I have a good memory.. and a lot of songs.

Most of all you have to hide it from the kids,

d

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Five Questions From Dad

This is a quasi-factual representation....

1) "Did you ask your Mother?"

Yeah, Dad. You read it on Sunday.

2) "Why five?"

I dunno... Because ten would be daunting?

3) "Is there a time limit?"

I guess not...

4) "Do I really have to do this?"

No.

5)  "Wasn't that five?"

Thanks for playing, Dad.

__________________________

This never took place... But it would turn out reeeeeally close to this...

Mad props to Dad,

d

Five Questions From Mom

For this particular offering, I asked Mom to ask me five questions she honestly wants the answers to.

See if you can spot the trend...

1. Do you know any happily married atheists?

That I could name readily? No. Then again, my not knowing of them does not mean they don't exist (ironic sentiment for an Atheist, eh?). There are happily married atheists and there are unhappily married atheists. There are happily married Christians and there are unhappily married Christians.

If they are unhappily married, I sincerely doubt that Atheism is the culprit if both partners are atheists. Just because you lift the veil of religion, you don't gain super powers... except for that of being able to spot fairy tales for what they are.

The spouse could have gained a lot of weight... They could be taking the other one for granted... Like a worn out record, of their favorite song... Leading to correspondences in the personal adds... and that leads to the Pina Colada song STUCK IN YOUR HEAD... You're welcome. For the record... She was a cheating bitch... She put an ad in the paper first... It's all on her. Thanks, Rupert.

I may have mentioned to some, or in a previous blog, or in person, that if you ask a person to describe themselves in five words, it is a glimpse into their psyche. For example, if you asked me to describe myself in five words, I would start with "Dougie". It is who I am. Then rest of the list goes "Human, Son, Artist, American" With me being first (no surprise there...), it shows that my my identity... my individuality and uniqueness are important to me. Second is the intellectual aspect, being a human being. I hate it, but it is true.

The third, Son, is because I do have wicked awesome parents who were always there for me and made all this possible. Artist... Whether it is writing, doodling, or even to an extent, programming. I like to think I add that little bit of my artistic flair to the creation.

The last is just self explanatory... I am proud of and truly do love this country... and hopefully it will be great again once the impeachment proceedings are done... Any. Day. Now.

I bring this up because if you have Groom, when asked to describe themselves, starts off with "Christian... without doubt, 110%, all glory to Him, Lord of Lords, The Lion and The Lamb"... Well, Bride damn well better be okay with being number 2. The only way I can see that happening is if when asked, their answer for the numero uno slot is pretty much the same rote propaganda and brainwashing and her betrothed.

2. Do you know any happy atheists (other than celebrities)?

As with Christianity, where there is a "spectrum of belief", in Atheism, there is a "spectrum of disbelief".

This guy is at one end of the spectrum of belief... He is caught, hook line, and sinker... Now, he may be happy in his faith, but I am sad just watching that. Other Christians don't go in for the whole "literal" interpretation of the so-so book. They also go to church only when the Cowboys kick off at 3:30.

It goes into "control". That man in the clip, he has a warm security blanket, encasing him in a sense of moral superiority, and basically removing that pesky "free will" and "independent thought" from his poor little brain. He is submissive. I am not. I see that security blanket as a fucking straight jacket.

My atheism does not define me. It is not the overriding and deciding factor in how I go about my daily life. I don't stop to think, "Will this piss off a non existent deity?" before buying that new bottle of Jack.

I am probably happier than some believers because I DON'T have to run through some spiritual gambit when making a decision. I don't have to stop and psychically talk to an invisible sky daddy to see if buying a new vacuum cleaner is the right thing to do.

I joke and say I am a "Militant Atheist", meaning I will only get into heated debates about "Star Trek" captains. There are some who are out there that truly believe that organized religion is the greatest obstacle to the human race moving forward. They do their best to denounce, disrupt, and decry religious influence. It makes them happy. Of course, if they were believers, going out and trying to convert them thar heathen atheists would make them equally spiritually erect.

So, do I know any happy atheists? Probably. Here is the caveat.. It hardly comes up. It is not that important. If it does come up, it is along the lines of,

"Oh, you're an Atheist?"

"Yeah."

"Cool... So anyways, Picard was waaaaaaaaaaaaaay better than Kirk."

"Go suck a dick! Without Kirk, there is no Picard."

"What about Janeway?" says token interloper.

"FUCK OFF!", shout the two Atheists in unison.

See... We can swear and not have to ask for forgiveness. Pretty fucking cool! SEE!!!!

3. What do you think you need in your life now, to make everyday better or more enjoyable?

Weed. Just kidding. Sorta. Oooooh... A kid???? NOT GONNA HAPPEN MOM!

First, let's set the definitions... There is being "happy" and there is being "content". I have a nice big ass TV, which according to some, has the best quality they have ever seen. Does that make me happy? A smidge, but it makes me content as hell that my "Main TV" checkbox is ticked off. Good fridge? CHECK! Bottle of Jack? CHECK! Some cokes to go with said Jack? CHECK!

Happiness is not the natural state. It just is NOT. You show me a person who walks around and says "I am happy all the time!" and I will show you a person that life has not taken a dump on yet.

People love to put up the meme about how "Darkness can't repel darkness, it takes a light to do that." That sorta hokey shit. Well, Francis, that light... has to fight to be... to exist. The Darkness just IS. If you go out into outer space, you will not be amazed by the "brightness". It is dark.

"But what about all those stars???" Um, Pum'kin... That is light from something that is dead now. Sweet dreams.  

If you light a match... a candle... turn on a light... to repel darkness... it has a cost. It is an expenditure of some resource or energy in order to fight the black...  Meanwhile, the darkness... waits. It is ALWAYS there.

Now, should you go silently into that dark night? Just embrace the darkness and become some little emo/goth person? No... Fight that urge!!! (Unless you just love the aesthetic and style of that scene, which I get... I DO have a blond, long haired dog... so... black is not always the best option for me.)

I am wary of the perpetually happy... And just as wary of the perpetually pessimistic... It is the rare combination of when the two meet, fall in love, and just work... Counterbalancing and enhancing... I call them "Mom and Dad".

I would probably say a change would make my life better. My job, while paying the bills, has morphed away from what really made it rewarding. It has presented me with new challenges, but not the type of challenges I would have sought out on my own.

The area I am in could be considered "Occupied Territory". I would like to not be in the Dallas area. Dallas itself is "something I have to get through" to get to somewhere I want to go. It holds no appeal to me.  I want to go to the ren fest? Ugh... Gotta go through Dallas. I want to go see Metallica in Arlington this June? Ugh... Gotta go through Dallas.

I could also do with a lady... One who meets all my wants and desires... Fulfills all my requirements in a companion... Intellect, wisdom, passion, empathy...  Heart of an angel, with a body that would make Satan say "DAYUM! I love me some sin, but that ass game is too much!"

She doesn't exist... So... Why dwell? (That would be the match burning out and the darkness coming back in.)

I am content, Mom. Happiness does occur, swear. Don't worry.

4. Where will you likely move to when you retire, or if you could easily move now?

I think I wrote that one already... TA DA!!!!

And I kinda covered it a few paragraphs ago... If I were to stay in state, it would be to take advantage of the retirement system I have been in for going on TEN YEARS!!!! (Insert Piven from "Gross Pointe Blank" here).

In state: I would scope Austin area, then Waxahachie, then maybe a whacked out. throw a dart at a dartboard, place... Make it my own.. As long as I can get a Jack n Coke, I am happy... Or at least content.

Non Texas choices: Where weed it legal. Just kidding. Sorta.

Let's not forget international options... Being able to claim "Political Asylum" is now valid.

"Have you seen our president? Fucker's crazy and shit!"

"Valkommen to Sverige!"(45 SLAM!)

5. When and where were you, when you were the happiest?

I remember summer at the campground in Michigan, probably 10 years old or so, where the days seemed to go on forever... We might have been there for 4 days, I don't recall, but they started at dawn and went to "passing out". Good times.

There were the summers in Duncanville, '82, '83... Armstrong Pool... Watching "Price Is Right" and "I Love Lucy"... Then out the door... returning "at dark".

I also mark happiness by when I discovered music that I still love to this day... Huggins giving me a copy of Led Zeppelin IV. Duncanville also being where I learned of Van Halen, Ozzy Osbourne, Black Sabbath, Aerosmith. Musically rewarding age... Kansas was where Metallica really took hold.

Then there were the USAF days... That period had the added benefit of my whole being a whore thing when I came back from Turkey cute... and freshly divorced...

Yeah... Good times. It helped that the shop I was in would roll out as a group, If we went out, it was 10 to 20 of us. Espirit de Corps they call it.  It was definitely my most "social" time. Also, the most drunk era. Weird how the two went hand in hand.

These days, I look forward to Scarbourgh Faire... I look forward to May's event. I have a couple of concerts coming up this summer...

There are moments of happiness every day - you just have to recognize them. Two weeks ago, found out that I don't have cancer! That was neat... I was still a bit sad that I would not get to smoke weed... FOR MEDICINAL PURPOSES... Just kidding. Sorta.

____________________________

Mom wants me to be happy. I get that. I appreciate it.

She also knows where I get 50% of my genetic make up. "Happiness" is a good idea and all, BUT since I am my Father's son... 

I am always waiting for the shoe to drop. I am always waiting for shit to go bad. Sometimes I will stop something good going on... JUST because I know it will eventually go tits up...

I am working on it though... Getting there, Mom. Thanks for asking.

The light is strong, and the man is weak,

d

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Last week I did not submit a blog because I was travelling for work. Apologies.

First... The food in New Orleans is beyond compare. Insanely good.

Second, the entire political landscape of the country I reside was up-ended. Flynn was shown to be dishonest... too dishonest for a guy who Politifact.com registers that seventy percent, 70%!!!, of things said are "Mostly False", "False", or, the "I wish it were literal", "Pants on Fire".

I thought a meteorologist was the only profession you could be wrong half the time and still keep your job. I guess we can add "President Of The United States of America" to that list.

Here's the jist... "Flynn spoke to Russia"... That is the spin. Trying to defuse the bomb after it exploded. Flynn spoke, multiple times, to a RUSSIAN INTELLIGENCE OFFICER. KGB, Boris and Natasha types, ya know... The "bad guy" in any movie from the early to mid 80's.

This just adds to the fire of the "Russian Problem" plaguing this fledgling administration.

From the beginning, 45 has been slurping the bung of Putin. His rhetoric of, "If the U.S. and Russia get along, that's a good thing." is not without a measure of veracity. It would be like saying, "It is easier to throw a football if your arm is not broken." Falls into the "No shit" category.

The big hiccup between the two nations right now are the sanctions enacted by the last good President. these sanctions were put in place for the whole Crimera annexation. Meaning Putin told a country "I must break you", all Drago, Rocky IV, like.

These sanctions specifically target Russia's economy via their energy sector. The sanctions state no U.S. Oil and Gas company can do business with or in Russia. No U.S. bank can do loans with a Russian energy outfit. That sort of thing...

These sanctions, that are WORKING, are in a fair bit of jeopardy.

The new Secretary of State Rex Tillerson, has been on the job for little less than a month. Not one interview. Not one press conference. Not one public appearance.

LOOK!!! LOOK!!! OVER HERE!!!! DOPEY 45 IS SAYING SOMETHING STUPID!!! Pay no attention to the ex-head of fucking EXXON as he is now in position to lift the sanctions against Russia. The sanctions that I wrote about not three paragraphs ago. I will save your eyes the trip. "The sanctions state no U.S. Oil and Gas company can do business with or in Russia."

It is smoke and mirrors, people.

Along with the smack your head-ness of, "The White House is leaking stories of corruption like a sieve!!! We must do something about these leaks!!!"

Here is a suggestion... How about you don't be so fucking corrupt? Try that on for size, Pum'kin.

Another concern is how much business 45 did or is still in cahoots with Russia. The main reason people wanted to see 45's tax returns was for the potential conflict of interests. Russia being at the top of the list.

And we STILL have not seen said tax returns. I am debating starting a "Returner Movement". I will scour, at my own risk of sanity loss, all 45's old tweets and interviews regarding President Obama's birth certificate. I will replace "birth certificate" with "tax returns". "Obama" to "Der Gropenfuhrer" (Miracle get's cred for that one).

Seriously... Until we see tax returns, no more executive actions. The minority of people may have voted him in, making him the "electoral college-ically elected" president... Fine, let's see if he is 1) Competent enough (Already proving to be not so). 2) Not have conflicts of interest (Gimme those tax returns!).

Conflict of interest being that he will allow his ex-Exxon CEO Secretary of State to lift sanctions against Russia because he has Exxon Mobil stock or something, thereby weakening our position against Russia, while lining his pockets with part of a possible $500,000,000,000.00 deal. Lot's of zeros, I know... just say "half a TRILLION dollars".

For a piece of THAT pie, a "business man" the likes of 45, would do just about anything... including selling out American interests, hell... selling out Human Interests... just to ensure he stays rich. Not GETS rich... STAYS rich.

I said human interests mainly because Crimea... Still a thing. Rebels backed by the Russians are still fighting Crimeans. People are still dying.

The last concern is the Russian hacking of the election. People may or may not be up to speed on what exactly that means. First, every intelligence agency that we have, has reported that their was involvement by STATE SPONSORED Russian hackers to manipulate the election.

One aspect of he hacking entailed the proliferation of hundreds, if not thousands of false stories painting Secretary Clinton in an unfavorable light. If you took more than five seconds to read and determine that the story was completely fictional, then you were part of the problem.

I am surrounded by people who, when offered morsels like that, licked the plate clean and asked for seconds.

______________________________________

I didn't even mention the whole Prostitute Piss Party thing because it is not "proven". It is not "unbelievable" by any means... but not proven.

I was at work, talking to some 45 supporters. I said, "Even you guys will admit, that by all that you know and have witnessed, Obama was a decent husband and father."

I could see the recalcitrance to admit even that... but got the "Yeah... We'll give you that."

"So, if you heard that a prominent figure paid Russian prostitutes to urinate on each other and a bed that his rival had once slept in, would you be more likely to believe that Trump did that or Obama did?"

"Go away, Dougie."

"Have a nice day, Gents."

I know my Dad thinks I probably should not write this... Figuring I will be "targeted" for reprisal. While I appreciate that sentiment, I fear not saying anything more. They only win we do nothing.

I know the news is being de-legitimized and it is just a fucking beating to watch. If I helped explain this whole thing and made it more easy to digest for at least one person... I done my part.

Nemnogo,

d

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Title: Do you speak Russian?
Sign off: Little bit.

Based On A True Story

She was older now. She was walking along, caught in grasp of memories so dense, they were almost "forest of fairy tale-like proportions", and she was in danger of getting lost in them.

She remembered the days so bright, skies so blue, that her entire future seemed without zenith. Running along main street, seeing if the five and dime had restocked her favorite candy. She had just gotten her allowance after all. She had watched her baby brothers three nights this week. A nickel per night netted her fifteen cents. She was practically rich.

When the skies were that full of grandeur and awe, it made being chained to the school desk that much more dreadful... The moment the bell would ring, she would sprint, flat out sprint home. Every day her father would tell her that she ran, "Like the devil has your number!"

The farm on which she grew up was primarily corn, with some rhubarb thrown in. The neighboring farm grew spearmint, and when her father and the mint farmer would cross paths on the gravel roads, if she were present, she always hoped to spy the mint farmer's son. He was a year or two older than her, and she was smitten from the first day she saw him.

All that running led her to excel in track and field. In high school, her event was the 4 x 400 relay. Javelin was also in her wheelhouse. She barely missed out on the Olympic team in 1960. She dreamed of Rome all winter long. She also dreamed of Amos, the mint farmer's boy... well... the mint farmer's strapping young man...

As she was strolling... and swimming in memory... she flashed to when she and Amos eventually got married. It wasn't a big to do. Mostly family, few friends who hadn't moved off or gone and got drafted to southeast Asia. Amos had taken over his daddy's farm... and she was in college -  so they "avoided the war".

So began their journey together. It wasn't an uneventful life, but not a tumultuous one either. There were highs and lows. They faced them together, like any true couple would. They had two children. They raised two children. They watched as two children went and started their own lives.

She would often think about how there was no preparation for the "routine of life". The seemingly endless repetition of the same thing. While she took comfort in the routine with Amos, it led to her fantasizing about the "What if's". She never acted on anything, not wanting to betray a good man like Amos, who worked hard to provide for his family.

As much as she had not prepared for the routine, she, along with the vast majority of people walking the Earth, she was not prepared for Amos' departure from the world. Blood clot traveled, undetected, and upon finding his heart, stopped it...

She took her time. Grieving. No one could tell her when it was "enough". That was for her, and her alone to decide.

To this day, she will catch herself looking for his boots by the door. He would NEVER clean them off before coming in from the fields... No matter how many times she asked him to. She would grab the broom and dust pan, and as she gathered up the sweeping, he would say something along the lines of, "If I cleaned them off, I would not get to watch your hips sway as you sweep... and when you bend over with that dust pan... well..."

She would "pshaw"... but she would smile...  Because she knew he meant it. She knew it was an apology of sorts... And the "flirtations of a farmer"...

She would eventually move to Texas. One of her younger brothers had invented some sort of button on a calculator for Texas Instruments and been able to ride that to a nice salary and early retirement. He decided to take care of his big sister who had taken care of him.

She was older now... walking... RIGHT IN THE MIDDLE OF THE KROGER PARKING LOT ROW... WHAT THE FUCK?????? COULD YOUR ASS BE SLOWER???? PICK A FUCKING SIDE, MAYBE???? IF THE GREATEST GENERATION WAS SO FUCKING AWESOME, WHY CAN'T SHE PICK A FUCKING SIDE TO WALK ON, SO I COULD GET THE FUCK AROUND HER AND FIND A FUCKING PARKING SPACE???? GO TO THE FUCKING DMV AND GET A FUCKING HANDICAP PLACARD!!!! THEN YOU WOULD BE FUCKING CLOSER AND I WOULD NOT BE SEQUESTERED BEHIND YOUR SLOW WALKING ASS!

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Okay... Maybe the pre-workout mix has a tendency to make me a bit... "antsy"... But seriously... This lady was not cripple... not all old-lady-bent-over-ravaged-by-time and shit... She was just being a self centered assclown and meandering... sashaying... ambling... in the middle of the lane... UGH!!!

I was behind her for the 40 second eternity... and made up the entire backstory...

Thankfully... My math sucks or I would have been working out how many miles per hour it would take to bounce, NOT BREAK, her out of my way... Acceleration delta.... Mass... Angle... Do I go for distance or style points on the landing? Stop it stop it stop it...

This is where my Mom is rolling her eyes... But hopefully it was more light hearted than last weeks offering.  Also... NOTE: I don't know if I will kick one out next weekend as I am headed to New Orleans for a work conference. I am sure I will have something to say after my visit to the Big Easy though.

Lassiez les bon temps rouler,

d

This blog brought to you by The Power Station, Led Zeppelin, Down, Korn, Faith No More, Black Sabbath, Metallica, and Guns N' Roses.

Thanks, Frank Herbert

What scares you?

Please, don't say "Clowns". That is too easy and it is a universally known fact that clowns are scary as shit. Aliens could land today, pop out, look around and if they saw a child's birthday party... complete with a clown... Hopefully, they would be of high enough intellect to atomize the paint-faced demon....

About once a month or so, I will envision my death. Usually when I am crashing, lying in bed. I do not fear death itself, that is one of those "it's gonna happen" things. It is more the method by which I will shuffle this mortal coil.

The one thing that will make me have to get up and clear my head for about four hours is being constricted or trapped in a very small space, unable to move. Trapped. Buried alive. Succumbing to the inevitable darkness.

Another thing that causes concern is that I never really know how I ended up in such a state...

I can explain the phobia, having had to wear corrective braces on my feet when I was an infant. I can't remember how old I was. I can't remember anything about them. I can only guess I wasn't a fan then, and their effects linger to this day.

There is a fellow at work, who is not afraid to engage in conversation with me. He stopped by on Friday and the conversation ranged all over. He brought up something interesting. Dragons. If you look back through almost every civilization's mythologies, there be dragons!

Asian civilizations, European civilizations, Norse civilizations, Greek and Roman civilizations... All of them. Co-worker was telling me that the article he read was stating that a dragon is a conglomeration. A hodgepodge of fears.

Snakes? Check.

Wings of bats or raptor like birds? Check.

Mass and size of large predator animals? Check.

In some cases, BREATHES FIRE? Check.

That right there is a phobia potluck.

The article, and yes, I have searched for it to no avail, also states that there is a deep, deep seated conditioning from the way, way back. The little fur covered mammals (aka "our evolutionary ancestors") that ran in fear of giant terrible lizards (aka "dinosaurs")? Yeah... That "resonated".

Then there are the everyday fears... Not crippling per se, but present nonetheless.

There is the fear of not being able to do something. Failing. Boss wants me to be some Sharepoint guru... I have no clue what to do in Sharepoint, but apparently... I am the man for the job. It is scary, mainly because 1) I don't want to let her down. 2) She says if I get paid or not.

Another notable fear is the fear of someone watching your every move. I have never been a fan of a surveillance state... but that is the reality. There is an old adage that "By the time you get to work, you have broken at least 5 laws". Could anyone live up to continual scrutiny on a continuous basis? On a long enough timeline... complete innocence becomes a rarity.

Then there is the granddaddy of fears... No one wants to die alone. Now... That being said, it is unavoidable, but when you read, "They passed surrounded by loved ones.", it helps. A person who is very important to me actually read me a riot act this week. "You better find someone to care for you. What's gonna happen when your parents and Lily are gone?" Ouch... Truth has some sting on it.

The only fear that overrides previous one is being in a relationship with the wrong person. The loss of time. The loss of opportunities. The loss of your own sanity in some cases. The previous fear is THE prime suspect for being the number one reason we end up in bad relationships. Queue the viscous cycle!

With these phobias, all you can do is NOT let them cripple you. As a Master of Sinanju once stated to his pupil, "Fear is a just feeling. You feel hot. You feel hungry. You feel angry. You feel afraid. Fear can never kill you."

The only counter point I could find was from Bodhi... From "Point Break" (1991)... "Fear causes hesitation, and hesitation causes your worst fears to come true."

One more quote that helps me make it through the scary times?

"I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when my fear is gone I will turn and face fear's path, and only I will remain." - Paul.

 The sleeper has awakened. (Gotta love "Dune")

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We live in tumultuous and scary times. There is little doubt of that.

This is why escapism is almost mandatory. I play video games and read comic books. I binge on Netflix. I go to Ren Faires.

If you were confronted by all the horrors of the world all at once... You would end up like Marvin in "Pulp Fiction"... It would be like getting shot in the face.

Escapism is the cure for paralysis brought on by fear.

The main problem is that the people doing the TRULY scary shit... They are counting on your not being able to or even wanting to face it. They are counting on your inability to cope with "yet another scary thing". They are counting on your inattention. This is how they become President.

I do wish I had a more cheery blog for you... I do...

They mostly come out at night, mostly,

d

This blog brought to you by silence. Did not feel too musical this morning. Been a rough week.

Recipe For Cookies... Or Was It Disaster?

When I baked cookies, I approached it like I would assembling a piece of furniture, or say, performing a 180 day inspection on a -86 diesel generator that powers planes when on the ground.

I would follow the damn instructions.

The Air Force gave you a set of instructions to do every maintenance action imaginable on every piece of equipment. They did not take kindly to "Going off script." If you were to give something a whirl when assembling a piece of furniture and it turns out badly... You end up with a very uncomfortable "conversation piece".

So, as the title states, we will stick with the cookies. Yes, it's an analogy, dammit!

The first step would be reading the recipe. Getting the list of ingredients. Hmm... Lessee

2 1/4 coups of all purpose flour. (What other purposes does flour have??? Honestly? "On weekends I tutor blind kids on how to become fluffers on porn sets" or "I run an Alt Right support group... WHITE FLOUR!!!! WHITE FLOUR!!!")
1 teaspoon of baking soda.
1 teaspoon salt.
2 sticks of butter, softened.
3/4 cup granulated sugar.
3/4 packed brown sugar.
1 teaspoon vanilla extract.
2 large eggs. (You got runny cookies? You prolly used extra large eggs. Nice job, Rook!)
12 oz. package of chocolate chips.
1 cup of chopped nuts Fuck chopped nuts.

If you do not have all that... Do NOT try and make cookies. It will not end well.

This is also time for reasonable experimentation. In other things, like brownies and shit, the recipe calls for cooking oil or something... And you can substitute applesauce for the oil... I have personally had brownies with that very substitution and they were insanely good. Could not tell it was made with pre-chewed apples..

If you make cookies and substitute the granulated sugar with Turkish Hashish... well... Have some Doritos as a munchie back up. It would also be the biggest paradigm shift from aroma to taste... "Man... smells like cookies... aaaaaaaaand weed... My nose is very happy..."

Within the cookie recipe, that I have used since I started making cookies, I have made modifications. I usually throw in some more flour... Another quarter cup or so. I have been known to throw in some maple syrup, a teaspoon or so. My Moms would toss in a splash of coffee. Enough to make you question the flavor, but not overpower.

Last season at Scarborough Renaissance Festival, a bakery had Bacon Chocolate Chip Cookies. They were so very good. The bacon was not overpowering, but present... That was a nice addition and could have easily ruined a decent cookie if overdone. It is where you are able to take some chances... Playing the "We Will See" card...

I was talking to my co-worker this week. The Russian Puppet Trump came up in conversation. Since November, the co-worker has been saying "We will just have to see."

Playing "We will just have to see" is fine when you are out twelve bucks in ingredients, a smelly kitchen, and maybe a cookie sheet... NOT WHEN FUCKING NUKES ARE INVOLVED!

The absolute ineptitude shown during the "peaceful transfer of power" has been so blatant and presented with every decision... It boggles the mind... Applying the recipe analogy to the presidency... The candidate Trump did not have ANY of the "ingredients" to make a good president.

It was like he showed up, via Trump Airlines, with Trump Steaks, Trump Wine, and Trump Vodka, with a degree in Culinary Arts from Trump University and said, "Who wants to make cookies???"

Every appointee to a cabinet position was a death sentence to that department. EPA? You get a climate change denier. HUD? You get a man who believes that the pyramids were grain silos. Labor? The guy who makes food porn commercials and is against the minimum wage. Not raising it... Just against it in general. He wants to be able to pay people less than minimum. Education? Someone who I am willing to bet has never stepped one toe into a public school... but her family contributed over 200 million to the GOP.

A confederacy of dunces is one thing... Rick Perry alone guarantees that title is appropriate. This is different. This is a suicide squad. And just like the movie... It does not look good.

Trump and his ilk are the last predators of that era. This is their last hurrah. This is their "Fire Sale"... "Everything must go!" He is going to set the whole thing on fire, and then walk away.

Um... Oven was only supposed to be set to 375 degrees...

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We don't have time for "We will see". Within HOURS, the climate change page on whitehouse.gov vanished.

We don't have four years to waste on this vile representative who will now be in the same company as Washington, Jefferson, Lincoln, LE PETOMANE! (Sorry... "Blazing Saddles" makes everything better)

Seriously... Your kids will be taught about him. If you have, or know someone who has, sons or daughters serving in the armed services, they are under his command. If that doesn't give you a moment of pause...

As the all wise Oracle once said, "Take a cookie."

Times like these,

d

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