As many of you already know, I got promoted. I am currently a supervisor. Not a high rank in the store but certainly not the lowest of lows. I started this job foldin' clothes around the holidays one year. A friend of mine worked for the company so I went up there to hang out and earn a few bucks. I was asked to stay on. They put me in customer service. I loved it.
I'm built for customer service. It's the area where people come to you with a problem and you make it all better. Lotta those people were pissed by the time they came to me and it's a great feelin' to get somebody that's ticked off and have 'em leave smilin'. I know the job inside and out. I've been doin' it a total of 4 years now. I've done things a supervisor or a manager would do. I'm sure I can handle the task.
The only thing I'm really concerned about is bein' a leader. Dad's a leader. I'm largely too passive for such things. I care if somebody's hurt or wronged but other than that I'm okay with everybody doin' their own thing. I was never a team captain. I was a boxer. Just me in that ring to take on a problem. I take what problems I see and deal with 'em. No delegatin', no pushin' anybody but me.
I suppose Dad was the same way at one time. He's not one to stay on your ass. But somehow he just leads as naturally as a fish swims. As far as I can tell it's the way he's always been. It'd be weird to think of him as say a 6 year old that was afraid of frogs and had trouble tying his shoes. I think of him and I see somebody more like John Wayne, George Patton, or King Leonidas. In a different world, he'd have been a king or a general. He speaks and people listen. He strikes fear when neccessary and is a loving father when that's needed. He is wise even beyond his 60 years. He isn't perfect. His plans aren't always the best, they change every 20 minutes according to the circumstances. That's part of being a good leader anyway though, I figure.
He's a good leader because he is confident and decisive and can adapt to change quickly. These are things I or any other bum can learn to be. I'll be damned if those are easy things to learn. And even if you can be these things it's also gotta be about who's willin' to follow you.
I have a brother that wants to be a leader and while he's confident and smart and good with customers, he's not very good with co-workers. He doesn't seem to respect them so they don't respect him. They will refuse to follow him when his time comes.
On the other hand, I find myself havin' problems with one particular employee. The others follow me farely well, so far. But one girl shows no initiative to get anything done and no talk or reminder or reprimand seems to help. She only seems interested in coming to work and collectin' a check. She's young, I suspect she'll grow out of it. Maybe not with us, but someday.
I ask my bosses for advice and the only thing I seem to hear is to lead by example. I say that's bullshit. I know, and have worked with, plenty of people that don't follow anybody's example no matter how hard they work. People that come to work to work are gonna work. Everybody else is just there to collect a check. I think the trick to convertin' those that just want a check into good workers is to make them believe not only that they can do the job but that you know it and want them to succeed. It's not showin' 'em what they're doin' wrong and how much better you can do it. It's showin' they can be just as good and havin' 'em believe it whole heartedly.
But really, I got no idea what I'm doin'. I just do what I can and make the calls the best I can. I'm already wearin' the crown, just gonna have to grow into it. Maybe one day I'll be thought of as a good leader by my kids. Maybe they'll wonder if there was ever anything I was afraid of. Was there anything I couldn't do? Hopefully, when I tell them yes and that I worked hard to be better and struggled to be a confident and competent leader they'll believe me and grow into confident and competent workers.
Wednesday, December 29, 2010
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
Those Damned Words You Say to Me
I'm good at what I do. I think I'm good anyway.
I write. I work. I do what I can for everyone else and there's not much left over for me or June to enjoy. I try to do all I can. Even then it's not always enough. I just can't be everywhere all at once. Even more so now with my department dependin' on me. I'm tryin' to be a good leader and all I get is responsibility with no actual time to lead or teach.
I'm still tryin' to promote to those that ain't readin' while tryin' to get published. Thanks, to those those of you that tell your pals about me by the way, I appreciate that. It's a hard life that Devil-Woman left me with. I still work a lot. There's even less time for writin' now which, for lack of a better word, sucks.
But you know I can deal with a lot. I can deal with my own death. I can deal with my failures. I can deal with a lack of sleep. I can deal with damn near anything thrown my way. But I can't deal with those flames the Dragon uses against me.
I don't need to be told I'm screwin' up. I don't need you tellin' me I'm not good enough. I don't need anybody micro-managin' me. Those damned words she uses that cut like a knife swung wildly. Just a wildfire of all the things that went wrong in her life, all the things I've done wrong, all her hate, all her dissatisfaction burnin' right to my soul.
I don't need all that. I know what I'm doin'. I'm grown enough to know when I've screwed up. I'm grown enough to know when I've done well. But it woulda been nice to hear sumthin' to that effect from her growin' up.
No "good job" or "well done" for me. Always "I could do that" or "Yeah, but...". Never has she read anything I've ever written. She called my drawin's scribbles. She's stabbed me with a fork. She's told me all mothers love their first born most and I ain't the first born. If I did something nice for her I could've done it better. If I didn't do it, there was a three-minute lecture about why I should've. I graduated without any comment from her. I got my Associate's degree without any comment from her. I got promoted without her sayin' a damned thing.
I don't need a mother to approve of anything I do. I'm grown. I do my best. I'm far from perfect. But I'm closer than she is. To hell with the rest.
She's too old to change. I don't have the patience anymore to try and get her to. I understand why she does what she does. That and a drive to do my best is all I need. Nobody's ever gonna be happy with everything I do. Thanks for teachin' me that. I doubt, though, that a lot of other people learn that there's somebody out there that isn't gonna like anything I do.
She's too old to change. I don't have the patience anymore to try and get her to. I understand why she does what she does. That and a drive to do my best is all I need. Nobody's ever gonna be happy with everything I do. Thanks for teachin' me that. I doubt, though, that a lot of other people learn that there's somebody out there that isn't gonna like anything I do.
Friday, December 3, 2010
Taps
I read through a book called The Quarter Life Crisis once. Helped with some issues I was havin'. Was all 'bout how you gotta find a balance with bein' young and gettin' older. Gotta be able to enjoy life while realizin' it ain't all roses and it ain't all roses for anybody.
Somewhere in that book it asks what's the next undiscussed crisis for people of a certain age. The answer the authors came up with was sumthin' of a three-quarter life crisis. The crisis of watchin' your lifelong friends die and waitin' around to die yourself.
Hell of a thing, losin' friends.
Life hurts so much a lot of the time 'cause it feels like that's all you're doin' is losin'. But you always gotta know that you had sumthin' to lose. That doesn't make it any easier to let things go, I know, but it's sumthin'.
All the times you had, good and bad. All the love, all the memories, it all sticks around. Appreciate that when you can. Let yourself hurt when you can't.
People always wanna think they can't feel. That it's weak to be able to be hurt. It's not. It's human. We ain't stone. We bleed, we cry, we laugh. Let it out. Let the world know you loved somebody. Let them all know the person who died was a person worth bein' missed. Tell those that never met him that they missed out on meetin' the greatest person that ever lived
The greeks used to take about a week to mourn a person. The whole town would get involved and drink and play games and mourn in his honor. Now we take half a day off of work to go and have to leave again. That's not what a friend deserves.
When my friends die, it'll hurt like hell. When my brothers die, it'll break my heart. When my dad dies, it'll break me. They all deserve my pain when they go. Like a tribute of misery.
Eventually, it gets better. From time to time it may even feel as fresh as the day you lost them. But it always gets better. Easier to deal with. Don't expect it to heal nice and clean like a papercut. If they were important it's more like a jagged stab wound that heals better than you thought it would.
We could all go at any minute. No one is promised a long life and even the long ones still end. No fear to be had in that, just truth. Make the most of the time you got.
Somewhere in that book it asks what's the next undiscussed crisis for people of a certain age. The answer the authors came up with was sumthin' of a three-quarter life crisis. The crisis of watchin' your lifelong friends die and waitin' around to die yourself.
Hell of a thing, losin' friends.
Life hurts so much a lot of the time 'cause it feels like that's all you're doin' is losin'. But you always gotta know that you had sumthin' to lose. That doesn't make it any easier to let things go, I know, but it's sumthin'.
All the times you had, good and bad. All the love, all the memories, it all sticks around. Appreciate that when you can. Let yourself hurt when you can't.
People always wanna think they can't feel. That it's weak to be able to be hurt. It's not. It's human. We ain't stone. We bleed, we cry, we laugh. Let it out. Let the world know you loved somebody. Let them all know the person who died was a person worth bein' missed. Tell those that never met him that they missed out on meetin' the greatest person that ever lived
The greeks used to take about a week to mourn a person. The whole town would get involved and drink and play games and mourn in his honor. Now we take half a day off of work to go and have to leave again. That's not what a friend deserves.
When my friends die, it'll hurt like hell. When my brothers die, it'll break my heart. When my dad dies, it'll break me. They all deserve my pain when they go. Like a tribute of misery.
Eventually, it gets better. From time to time it may even feel as fresh as the day you lost them. But it always gets better. Easier to deal with. Don't expect it to heal nice and clean like a papercut. If they were important it's more like a jagged stab wound that heals better than you thought it would.
We could all go at any minute. No one is promised a long life and even the long ones still end. No fear to be had in that, just truth. Make the most of the time you got.
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
The Original Person
Nobody pays for creativity. Nobody pays you to be you. They pay you to be you but with a name tag and a positive attitude people will like and maybe a stupid outfit.
But Nobody pays you. Nobody is the one signin' your check.
Originality comes from bein' you and not bein' sorry about it. It's not always neat and clean. It's not always gonna be nice but if you're like me and you wanna do sumthin' creative the best thing you can do is be yourself.
People put on name tags and wear "smocks", otherwise known as ugly vests made out of shit material nobody actually wears, and surrender to bein' nobody. Nobody works for a lot of people. And there's nuthin' wrong with doin' that to pay the bills.
But if you wanna be happy you gotta be you. Make the music you wanna make, tell the stories you wanna tell, sing the songs you wanna sing. Don't let anybody tell you any different.
An original person is gonna have to work long and hard to get his way. Authors look decades before they get published. Bands tour and perform for just as long before they get signed. Artists make enough art to fill galleries before anyone appreciates a single piece. A few get lucky. Others are still tryin'.
But when you're an original person it often feels like you're meant to do sumthin' and even if you barely have the time to do it, even if it seems like a waste, even if people say you suck at it, you just keep gettin' up and doin' it.
You have to. You need to. Whether Nobody Pays you or not. You do it.
But Nobody pays you. Nobody is the one signin' your check.
Originality comes from bein' you and not bein' sorry about it. It's not always neat and clean. It's not always gonna be nice but if you're like me and you wanna do sumthin' creative the best thing you can do is be yourself.
People put on name tags and wear "smocks", otherwise known as ugly vests made out of shit material nobody actually wears, and surrender to bein' nobody. Nobody works for a lot of people. And there's nuthin' wrong with doin' that to pay the bills.
But if you wanna be happy you gotta be you. Make the music you wanna make, tell the stories you wanna tell, sing the songs you wanna sing. Don't let anybody tell you any different.
An original person is gonna have to work long and hard to get his way. Authors look decades before they get published. Bands tour and perform for just as long before they get signed. Artists make enough art to fill galleries before anyone appreciates a single piece. A few get lucky. Others are still tryin'.
But when you're an original person it often feels like you're meant to do sumthin' and even if you barely have the time to do it, even if it seems like a waste, even if people say you suck at it, you just keep gettin' up and doin' it.
You have to. You need to. Whether Nobody Pays you or not. You do it.
Thursday, November 4, 2010
16 and Stupid
Read an article today and it made me a lil sad. Somewhere in Spain a 10 year old girl gave birth. She wasn't raped or molested, that was my first instinct. Nope, lil girl's got herself a 13 year old man. Boy got her pregnant, she had the baby, and now granny is gonna have to take care of 'em all. Accordin' to one article, Granny says that's not even an odd occurrence in those parts.
As many of you know, I lived with a woman who had two kids for a year or so. Worst year of my life. You know why, no time to explain now. But I took care of those kids, I went broke, I busted my ass to provide for 'em as if they were my own. I was 22 and workin' full time. That was a bitch to do day in and day out. Goin' hungry so they could eat. Watchin' out for them every second. But as a parent it's what you do.
Kids as young as that girl ain't got any idea. They haven't even had to deal with pimples yet. They ain't worked a day in their life. No diplomas, no useful advice of any kind, can't even drive. They got no business tryin' to make a baby let alone havin' one.
Kids are stupid. They never learn. Most adults, not all but most, you can tell 'em not to do a thing because it's bad for 'em and they listen. Kids won't learn not to put their pecker into an electrical socket until they do it.
I wish I could give a speech that teenagers would listen to about all the dumb shit they're goin' through that they think no one gets and the mistakes they could avoid. I know they won't listen but I wanna tell 'em anyway.
Kids deserve to hear the truth. That the real world, the world after high school, is a bitch and nobody's gonna push you for much of anything. Doesn't matter if you're ready or if you ain't got the money or how sad your story is, the world ain't gonna stop for you. So that means you gotta get your shit together and show up on time (not that I ever really do) and be responsible. You gotta plan your budget out. You gotta be thinkin' ten steps ahead of life. Gotta account for all the lil things that are gonna go wrong. Life doesn't wait for you to have money for the road trip and a flat tire, that tire's gonna bust when you have half the money you need for it. Gotta hustle and figure out how you can get that extra cash asap.
Speakin' of cash, are you savin' your money from flippin' burgers or sweepin' floors? I wasn't at 16. Should be thinkin' of retirement the day you start workin'. Put away twenty bucks a week. that's 'bout a grand a year. Two grand by the time you're 18. By the time you're 65 you got a whoppin' 50 grand plus interest, if you're lucky. That gonna last you 30 years of retirement? Hell no. Gotta save, earn interest, invest wisely. You're bratty kids are gonna be too dumb and lazy and resentful of you to take care of you. If you're lucky you'll have at least one kid you can be a burden to.
The world is far from perfect. It all but sucks. Your dreams will likely be crushed and broken. You will have regrets by the time you're fifty. All we can do is roll with the punches, there will be punches, and keep movin' forward. If you want to be successful you have to bust your ass and push yourself to your limits. And even then all you might do is go over the edge.
Life gives you no promises, but it's full of promise. They'll tell you in school that you can be anything you wanna be. That's true. But you'll have to give it everything you got and then some. It's not instant. It takes patience, courage, and endurance. It takes hard work.
I think they don't emphasize that part enough.
As many of you know, I lived with a woman who had two kids for a year or so. Worst year of my life. You know why, no time to explain now. But I took care of those kids, I went broke, I busted my ass to provide for 'em as if they were my own. I was 22 and workin' full time. That was a bitch to do day in and day out. Goin' hungry so they could eat. Watchin' out for them every second. But as a parent it's what you do.
Kids as young as that girl ain't got any idea. They haven't even had to deal with pimples yet. They ain't worked a day in their life. No diplomas, no useful advice of any kind, can't even drive. They got no business tryin' to make a baby let alone havin' one.
Kids are stupid. They never learn. Most adults, not all but most, you can tell 'em not to do a thing because it's bad for 'em and they listen. Kids won't learn not to put their pecker into an electrical socket until they do it.
I wish I could give a speech that teenagers would listen to about all the dumb shit they're goin' through that they think no one gets and the mistakes they could avoid. I know they won't listen but I wanna tell 'em anyway.
Kids deserve to hear the truth. That the real world, the world after high school, is a bitch and nobody's gonna push you for much of anything. Doesn't matter if you're ready or if you ain't got the money or how sad your story is, the world ain't gonna stop for you. So that means you gotta get your shit together and show up on time (not that I ever really do) and be responsible. You gotta plan your budget out. You gotta be thinkin' ten steps ahead of life. Gotta account for all the lil things that are gonna go wrong. Life doesn't wait for you to have money for the road trip and a flat tire, that tire's gonna bust when you have half the money you need for it. Gotta hustle and figure out how you can get that extra cash asap.
Speakin' of cash, are you savin' your money from flippin' burgers or sweepin' floors? I wasn't at 16. Should be thinkin' of retirement the day you start workin'. Put away twenty bucks a week. that's 'bout a grand a year. Two grand by the time you're 18. By the time you're 65 you got a whoppin' 50 grand plus interest, if you're lucky. That gonna last you 30 years of retirement? Hell no. Gotta save, earn interest, invest wisely. You're bratty kids are gonna be too dumb and lazy and resentful of you to take care of you. If you're lucky you'll have at least one kid you can be a burden to.
The world is far from perfect. It all but sucks. Your dreams will likely be crushed and broken. You will have regrets by the time you're fifty. All we can do is roll with the punches, there will be punches, and keep movin' forward. If you want to be successful you have to bust your ass and push yourself to your limits. And even then all you might do is go over the edge.
Life gives you no promises, but it's full of promise. They'll tell you in school that you can be anything you wanna be. That's true. But you'll have to give it everything you got and then some. It's not instant. It takes patience, courage, and endurance. It takes hard work.
I think they don't emphasize that part enough.
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
No Bitch, No Moan
I've let you guys down lately. I am often political here. I'm all about expressin' my own opinion. I believe everyone should be aware of what's really goin' on in the world. Not just on Facebook or in class or at work. People have an obligation to go and figure out what's goin' on politically.
It's the obligation of an adult and anybody worth their salt to know and understand what's goin' on politically. It's easy to bitch and moan about all the things that are wrong in the world but it takes some effort to find out what the policies are and who's side you should be on to change anything.
I haven't provided you guys with any info on what's goin' on politically lately. I feel like I let you down. I shoulda wrote sumthin' about who said what and what policies they stand behind. I been busy with the new job and Costa Rica. But by the end of the night Texas could have a whole new governor. But I haven't mentioned a word on it.
I'm hopin' for Bill White. Which is why I'm stoppin' here to go voice my opinion if I still can.
You can choose who you want. Just say some damn thing when you get the chance. If you don't care now, you'll care when the changes start screwin' you. Then you can bitch and moan til the next election.
It's the obligation of an adult and anybody worth their salt to know and understand what's goin' on politically. It's easy to bitch and moan about all the things that are wrong in the world but it takes some effort to find out what the policies are and who's side you should be on to change anything.
I haven't provided you guys with any info on what's goin' on politically lately. I feel like I let you down. I shoulda wrote sumthin' about who said what and what policies they stand behind. I been busy with the new job and Costa Rica. But by the end of the night Texas could have a whole new governor. But I haven't mentioned a word on it.
I'm hopin' for Bill White. Which is why I'm stoppin' here to go voice my opinion if I still can.
You can choose who you want. Just say some damn thing when you get the chance. If you don't care now, you'll care when the changes start screwin' you. Then you can bitch and moan til the next election.
Thursday, October 28, 2010
More in Heaven and Earth II
I wanted to write about Halloween for you. Give you guys some kind of spooky story or sumthin' to make you guys question whether or not the things that go bump in the night are just the moans and groans of a house or if there really might be sumthin' lurkin' in the dark waitin' to grab you and suck you into that black void. Halloween is the appropriate time for such things.
I got nuthin.
Best I had to scare you with was a story about strange lights in the middle of the night witnessed by myself and my girlfriend. Red would've seen it had she not been passed out next to us. I'll tell you just to tell you but I feel it's not particularly worthy of you so I'll see if I can tell you sumthin' else of interest after.
One night, after we came to my girlfriend's house after a party or bar or sumthin' to that effect we went to lay down. She claims the place is haunted. I never really saw anything happen in there. Though it is the kinda place you get an eerie feelin' in the middle of the night about. Her sister had recently moved out of the room we all decided to stay in so all there was to sleep on were two mattresses side by side on the floor. Red had had a bit to drink and it was late anyway so she passed right out. June and I stayed up and talked for a while.
Just as we began to doze off we were reawakened by these strange blue lights. They came from nowhere. I checked our cellphones thinkin' maybe we got a call or the light from them was reflectin' off of sumthin' to create the lights. Mine was off and hers wasn't lit up. I looked to the window to see if light was comin' in from the street or some other source, no such luck. Not even any kind of reflective surface like a mirror left in the room to blame the lights on. My girlfriend was panicked. I wasn't doin' much better. I never left the mattress, worried I might somehow agitate the lights. I merely scanned the room for an answer. My girlfriend was frightened and lookin' for an answer. I told her not to worry, that it had to be an illusion. There had to be some reasonable explanation that I wasn't seein'. I never did find one and after what felt like ages the lights went away.
There may be a reasonable explanation for weird blue lights hovering above us and as bright as a cellphone in a dark room but I don't know it. My girlfriend went to sleep and so did I. We were fine the next mornin'. But creeped out more than I had been in a long while.
A better story my brother told me a while back was concernin' to members of his church. A man and his wife. They had had a discussion with a friend or heard in a sermon that there is a way to call a spirit to your home. You ask to know who the spirit is and it has to tell you. Some rule or guideline somewhere. I'm not positive of the details of exactly how one conjures a spirit/demon/devil to you home. Unless you call me and tell me there's gonna be beer.
Well the wife and the husband were in separate rooms, watchin' separate T.V.'s, and watchin' separate shows. The wife is bored so she calls out to the anything that's listenin' usin' a spiritual dog whistle of sorts. Well there's a small rumble through the house and the lights flicker a bit. The husband hears a knock at the front door near where he is and his hair begins to stand on end. He takes a peak through the door's spyglass and sees no one, so he's suspicious.
"Who's there?", the husband asks.
A gravely voice answers, "Let me in."
"Uh, no."
The voice with no body continues, "Someone's calling for me."
"Honey,..." The husband rushes to the back room where his wife is. He asks her if she did anything. She says no. "Are you sure?"
"I didn't do anything. Why?", the wife asks.
"'Cause some...thing is at the door."
"Oh.." She explains the foolish thing she did that she didn't think would work. Eventually, they called their Representative of Heaven or whatever you call a head of a Pentecostal church. He got into contact with some folks that cleanse houses of malicious spirits. The only thing that saved the couple, accordin' to those guys, is that the house had been cleansed and sealed through some sort of prayer when they moved in. Had there been a weak spot the two would've been in trouble.
The blue lights thing happened to me. I'll verify that I don't know what it was other than scary. The couple, I don't know 'em, my brother does, and he told me this story. He believed it. Good enough for me to think sumthin' odd happened to those people. Watch your asses boys and girls, maybe a mysterious light or voice or shadowy figure is waitin' for you.
I got nuthin.
Best I had to scare you with was a story about strange lights in the middle of the night witnessed by myself and my girlfriend. Red would've seen it had she not been passed out next to us. I'll tell you just to tell you but I feel it's not particularly worthy of you so I'll see if I can tell you sumthin' else of interest after.
One night, after we came to my girlfriend's house after a party or bar or sumthin' to that effect we went to lay down. She claims the place is haunted. I never really saw anything happen in there. Though it is the kinda place you get an eerie feelin' in the middle of the night about. Her sister had recently moved out of the room we all decided to stay in so all there was to sleep on were two mattresses side by side on the floor. Red had had a bit to drink and it was late anyway so she passed right out. June and I stayed up and talked for a while.
Just as we began to doze off we were reawakened by these strange blue lights. They came from nowhere. I checked our cellphones thinkin' maybe we got a call or the light from them was reflectin' off of sumthin' to create the lights. Mine was off and hers wasn't lit up. I looked to the window to see if light was comin' in from the street or some other source, no such luck. Not even any kind of reflective surface like a mirror left in the room to blame the lights on. My girlfriend was panicked. I wasn't doin' much better. I never left the mattress, worried I might somehow agitate the lights. I merely scanned the room for an answer. My girlfriend was frightened and lookin' for an answer. I told her not to worry, that it had to be an illusion. There had to be some reasonable explanation that I wasn't seein'. I never did find one and after what felt like ages the lights went away.
There may be a reasonable explanation for weird blue lights hovering above us and as bright as a cellphone in a dark room but I don't know it. My girlfriend went to sleep and so did I. We were fine the next mornin'. But creeped out more than I had been in a long while.
A better story my brother told me a while back was concernin' to members of his church. A man and his wife. They had had a discussion with a friend or heard in a sermon that there is a way to call a spirit to your home. You ask to know who the spirit is and it has to tell you. Some rule or guideline somewhere. I'm not positive of the details of exactly how one conjures a spirit/demon/devil to you home. Unless you call me and tell me there's gonna be beer.
Well the wife and the husband were in separate rooms, watchin' separate T.V.'s, and watchin' separate shows. The wife is bored so she calls out to the anything that's listenin' usin' a spiritual dog whistle of sorts. Well there's a small rumble through the house and the lights flicker a bit. The husband hears a knock at the front door near where he is and his hair begins to stand on end. He takes a peak through the door's spyglass and sees no one, so he's suspicious.
"Who's there?", the husband asks.
A gravely voice answers, "Let me in."
"Uh, no."
The voice with no body continues, "Someone's calling for me."
"Honey,..." The husband rushes to the back room where his wife is. He asks her if she did anything. She says no. "Are you sure?"
"I didn't do anything. Why?", the wife asks.
"'Cause some...thing is at the door."
"Oh.." She explains the foolish thing she did that she didn't think would work. Eventually, they called their Representative of Heaven or whatever you call a head of a Pentecostal church. He got into contact with some folks that cleanse houses of malicious spirits. The only thing that saved the couple, accordin' to those guys, is that the house had been cleansed and sealed through some sort of prayer when they moved in. Had there been a weak spot the two would've been in trouble.
The blue lights thing happened to me. I'll verify that I don't know what it was other than scary. The couple, I don't know 'em, my brother does, and he told me this story. He believed it. Good enough for me to think sumthin' odd happened to those people. Watch your asses boys and girls, maybe a mysterious light or voice or shadowy figure is waitin' for you.
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
Cowboy
Whatever happened to the cowboys? The guys that did hard work and were proud of it? The guys that were rough and couldn't be changed? The guys that were hairy and ugly and dirty 'cause that's what a man is?
I see a buncha guys in this world and damn if they ain't the prettiest buncha girls I ever seen. I know guys that shave their chest, wax their eyebrows, trim the hair on their legs, and complain about razor bumps in places I didn't wanna know nuthin' about. Yet they still have the hierarchy between 'em as far as who's manliest and who's the toughest. Just a buncha girls.
I'm sorry if you like your men well groomed and prissy. I won't ever be that. I get regular haircuts and take regular baths, you know? I'm no slob but damn, what happened to the boys that grew up wantin' to be cowboys? Somewhere along the way they started gettin' pedicures and manicures. There's always been those pretty boy types I suppose. And of course there are those gay guys that keep themselves well groomed, some might call that girly. It seems to me more and more that a man, a real meat eatin', beer drinkin', cigar smokin', tire changin', door openin' Man is gettin' harder and harder to find.
Instead, you got theses spray-tanned, muscleheads that spend more time workin' on their looks than workin'. And the guys that never did much more than coast through life on daddy's money. How 'bout diggin' a ditch or learnin' a trade?
I've been workin' since I was 12. Dad took me out on jobs and I had to earn my keep same as anybody else. I learned to install faucets and commodes. I dug trenches for septic tanks. I spent my summers in Texas attics changin' out water heaters.
Dad taught me how to change the brakes on my first car along with the oil and tires. I learned how to be responsible with it. I've been given a lot of great information on bein' a man from the best man I know. It's where a boy should learn that stuff.
Maybe my dad was a lot better than most dads. He was never one to really go in for trends or worry about much more than payin' bills and bein' where he was needed. Bein' pretty or super fit didn't really come up on his radar. (Is it black? Does it fit? Not frilly? I'll wear it.)
There aren't many real men left and it seems they're dyin' fast. Society wants you to be in touch with your feelin's and sensitive and proper and pretty. Look, if my dad can be a good man, if he can pay his bills, be there for me, be a good dad without ever seemin' less than a man I don't see why I can't.
I'm just like him in so many ways. I know we've got our differences and some are more manly and others are are prolly more effeminate. I am slower to be angry than he is. To some this has been seen as a fear of fightin'. Sometimes I wonder if it is but I've been in a few scuffles. I know I can handle myself. But I won't just clobber a bum for bein' a bum.
Many times though I just find myself in situations where I'm thinkin' what the hell am I doin'? Watchin' Jersey Shore on a Thursday night? Teen Mom on Tuesday? Goin' to take pictures with a bunny in a pumpkin' patch with my girlfriend? I wanna say fuck all that bullshit.
That's not what a man does. I don't give a damn about those shows or bein' cute. But it's what you do when you got a woman. It's what you do when you gotta family.
Dad drove us to school. He gave us advice. He played with us. He is easily offended. He damn near cried when Mom dumped his chicken pot pies on a plate for him. (They're properly served in those lil tin things they come in, you know?) He has mommy issues. But he also never changed diapers. He drank more beer than was healthy for him. He smoked more cigarettes than he should've. He got into fights with people and later on thought, "Oh, maybe they were right. Oh well. Shoulda been more polite about it." He was always gruff and tough as nails. He stood his ground and no one could ever tell him he was a sissy or what to do or that he couldn't do anything he wanted to do.
And maybe those few things are all it takes to be that cowboy I always wanted to be. I can watch some dumb shows or enjoy the company of an adorable rabbit. I can be nice to my girl. I can play with lil kids. I can do whatever the hell I please I just gotta walk with my head held high and not take shit off no fools.
I see a buncha guys in this world and damn if they ain't the prettiest buncha girls I ever seen. I know guys that shave their chest, wax their eyebrows, trim the hair on their legs, and complain about razor bumps in places I didn't wanna know nuthin' about. Yet they still have the hierarchy between 'em as far as who's manliest and who's the toughest. Just a buncha girls.
I'm sorry if you like your men well groomed and prissy. I won't ever be that. I get regular haircuts and take regular baths, you know? I'm no slob but damn, what happened to the boys that grew up wantin' to be cowboys? Somewhere along the way they started gettin' pedicures and manicures. There's always been those pretty boy types I suppose. And of course there are those gay guys that keep themselves well groomed, some might call that girly. It seems to me more and more that a man, a real meat eatin', beer drinkin', cigar smokin', tire changin', door openin' Man is gettin' harder and harder to find.
Instead, you got theses spray-tanned, muscleheads that spend more time workin' on their looks than workin'. And the guys that never did much more than coast through life on daddy's money. How 'bout diggin' a ditch or learnin' a trade?
I've been workin' since I was 12. Dad took me out on jobs and I had to earn my keep same as anybody else. I learned to install faucets and commodes. I dug trenches for septic tanks. I spent my summers in Texas attics changin' out water heaters.
Dad taught me how to change the brakes on my first car along with the oil and tires. I learned how to be responsible with it. I've been given a lot of great information on bein' a man from the best man I know. It's where a boy should learn that stuff.
Maybe my dad was a lot better than most dads. He was never one to really go in for trends or worry about much more than payin' bills and bein' where he was needed. Bein' pretty or super fit didn't really come up on his radar. (Is it black? Does it fit? Not frilly? I'll wear it.)
There aren't many real men left and it seems they're dyin' fast. Society wants you to be in touch with your feelin's and sensitive and proper and pretty. Look, if my dad can be a good man, if he can pay his bills, be there for me, be a good dad without ever seemin' less than a man I don't see why I can't.
I'm just like him in so many ways. I know we've got our differences and some are more manly and others are are prolly more effeminate. I am slower to be angry than he is. To some this has been seen as a fear of fightin'. Sometimes I wonder if it is but I've been in a few scuffles. I know I can handle myself. But I won't just clobber a bum for bein' a bum.
Many times though I just find myself in situations where I'm thinkin' what the hell am I doin'? Watchin' Jersey Shore on a Thursday night? Teen Mom on Tuesday? Goin' to take pictures with a bunny in a pumpkin' patch with my girlfriend? I wanna say fuck all that bullshit.
That's not what a man does. I don't give a damn about those shows or bein' cute. But it's what you do when you got a woman. It's what you do when you gotta family.
Dad drove us to school. He gave us advice. He played with us. He is easily offended. He damn near cried when Mom dumped his chicken pot pies on a plate for him. (They're properly served in those lil tin things they come in, you know?) He has mommy issues. But he also never changed diapers. He drank more beer than was healthy for him. He smoked more cigarettes than he should've. He got into fights with people and later on thought, "Oh, maybe they were right. Oh well. Shoulda been more polite about it." He was always gruff and tough as nails. He stood his ground and no one could ever tell him he was a sissy or what to do or that he couldn't do anything he wanted to do.
And maybe those few things are all it takes to be that cowboy I always wanted to be. I can watch some dumb shows or enjoy the company of an adorable rabbit. I can be nice to my girl. I can play with lil kids. I can do whatever the hell I please I just gotta walk with my head held high and not take shit off no fools.
Friday, October 15, 2010
Garner
Pressed for time, nuthin witty to say, hope you enjoy the story.
David listened to his stomach growl as he wandered down a dirt road just outside of a small town called Garner, Iowa. He had hoped to find a conveniently free meal but found himself in trouble instead. Small towns like Garner are usually filled with wholesome people with wholesome values. Thus the sixteen-year-old thief was ushered out of the town.
“All I wanted was a little food. Jeez, you’d have thought I was tryin’ to rob a bank or somethin’. Maybe I’ll head south a ways where people are a bit more hospitable.” David grumbled to himself. He had been on his own for close to a year now. He left his father’s dirt farm in the hopes of making a better life for himself.
The young Tennessean, David Brown, grew up on his father’s farm which would have been well enough for most any young man had it not been for the drought. A lot of the countryside had experienced the same sort of phenomenon. David’s father insisted on staying in Tennessee but David felt he had to choose between staying home and starving or seeing the country and starving. So he opted to see the great nation he lived in and all of the poverty it could hold in it.
1936 isn’t the best time to see the nation in all her glory but with hope in his heart David set out on his own. He tried to find work for himself doing most anything he could but the depression was on and anyone that had a job was doing their best to keep it and anyone that didn’t have work was trying to find it. Eventually he swallowed his pride to be able to swallow something edible. David hated the idea of stealing especially since he was raised as a good proper Christian by his mother but it was that or starve.
“Garner, Iowa and its residents don’t enjoy the company of thieves.” said the rough old officer as he dragged the young man to the edge of the town. “I don’t want to see you in this town again, son. We’ve got honest hardworking folks that live here and we don’t need sinners like you.”
David picked himself up from the ground and dusted himself off and without a word to the well-fed man with the pistol walked away. He kept walking until he came across an intersection with a decent shade tree and nice pond that may hopefully contain some tasty fish.
The shade was cast by a black walnut tree that had stood its ground here for more than a century. David hoped to eat some of its offerings but came to find the walnuts had already matured. As he had learned from his parents, black walnut trees hand out a nut that when fully developed has an unpleasant taste and is more trouble than it’s worth to get to through a hard shell. David still had a piece of string with a hook that he could easily catch himself dinner with provided there were fish to be caught.
David walked around the tree to get closer to the pond and discovered that he was not alone. Sitting in a swing that hung from the tree was a young woman. David and the lady had startled each other. David laughed at himself, “Oh--Hello ma’am.”
“Hello.” The blonde-haired blue-eyed woman answered coyly. David could see she had been crying. She used her kerchief to dry her tears.
“Excuse me miss but is everything alright?” David asked as he unraveled his fishing line.
“Yes. Everything is just fine, thank you.” She was obviously lying.
David asked again, “Are you sure ma’am? I’m no doctor or nothin’ but it looks to me your eyes are leaking or you seem to be upset over somethin’. If you don’t want to talk about it that’s fine but I’m gonna be here a while so I’ll just keep askin’. My momma taught me we should care about every livin’ creature on God’s green earth especially people. I can see you got some problems and if you’ll let me I’d be more than happy to lend an ear.” The woman sat quietly.
“Okay. My name is David in case you care to address me.”
David walked over to the woman and offered his hand. “I’m Lorna.” She took his hand and shook it.
“Pleased to meet you miss Lorna. Now what is it that has you all worked up?” The young man casts his line into the pond.
“Well Mr. David it just happens that I found out I was to be expecting a baby soon.” Lorna begins to swing herself lightly.
“Well that’s good news congratulations!” He smiles at her.
“Oh no it’s not especially for me.” She explains. “I am neither wed nor expecting to be. All of Garner would laugh at me and call me a whore if they knew. I can’t have this baby.”
“What about the baby’s pa? Where is he?” David took a seat on the grass.
Lorna almost burst into tears. “He-he was beaten to death not more than a week ago.”
“Beaten to death?” David asked with disbelief.
“Yes. He was accused of taking Mr. Henry’s horse. So Mr. Henry’s sons dragged him out of his bed in the middle of the night and beat him with shovels in a cornfield where he was found dead the next day. He didn’t even take the nag! Those Henry boys just wanted an excuse to hurt an innocent black man.” Lorna reveals.
“The father of your baby is a black man? If your pa is anything like mine then he won’t like that at all.” David recasts his line.
Lorna agrees. “My daddy just doesn’t understand that Paul was a good, good man. He was gentle and caring. He was a hard worker and always treated me kindly. I treated him the same way and one day we realized we had fallen in love. It’s not common especially around these parts but I couldn’t help how I felt about him. I’ve lost everything. I just want to leave this place and never come back. I want to just roam and see the country and find a perfect place for me in it.”
David thinks before responding. “I don’t know if that’s such a good idea. I’ve been wandering around for the better part of a year now and I know one thing for sure: This is no life for an expecting mother. I’m having a hard time trying to take care of myself there’s no way I could handle a baby and this. I sleep in fields, I have to steal my food, and people can be just plain uncharitable sometimes. Don’t you think you could just go and talk to your dad and explain how all of this happened? He’s got to be a reasonable man. He doesn’t want you to live on the street.”
David walks over to Lorna to comfort her but she reaches into her handbag and pulls out a pistol. “Whoa! Easy there Lorna there’s no call for that. You’ll just get someone hurt.”
“My daddy has already heard all about his grandchild and has decided that he doesn’t want anything to do with my baby. He doesn’t want anything to do with harlot daughter either.” Lorna doesn’t want to listen. She knows the town she grew up in would never let her live in peace with her baby. She loved Paul more than she ever thought possible. She’s desperate to leave her small town and head to someplace better. “I just want to go somewhere that I can live without someone talking behind my back about the things I’ve done. I want to be in a place that I can be happy with my baby. I want to be somewhere perfect.”
David holds his hands up in plain sight for fear of the pistol. “Now I can’t think of but one place like that and it ain’t here on this world. As long as you have neighbors they’ll talk about you and sometimes it’ll be bad but that’s just people. Everyone wants something better for themselves but not everyone gets it and that makes people bitter. Bitter people try to bring everyone around them down to build themselves up.”
“As long as you’re unmarried and have a mixed baby your neighbors are gonna talk. They’re gonna snicker and laugh but to Hell with them. If you don’t regret what you done then why should you worry on what other folks are sayin’?” Lorna puts the gun down.
“Come on, now I can walk you back to that town and I’ll go with you to talk to your pa and we can talk to him all about the Henry boys and Paul and he’ll have to get used to the idea of his grandbaby because like it or not that little fella’s on his way.” David rolls up his fishing line still listening to his stomach rumbling. “Maybe you could even get me an invitation to supper.”
Lorna chuckles half-heartedly. “You know David you are a nice young man. Despite living like you do and the way people have not shown you kindness you still remain hopeful. I hope you find whatever you’re looking for.”
“Thanks, Miss Lorna. Now come on so we can sort all of this out.” David offers his hand to her and she accepts his help to her feet. He starts to walk in front of her and she knocks him over the head with the revolver she had in her handbag.
“I came out here to join Paul, David. I was ready to when you walked up. Thanks for trying but I don’t want to live in a place where people aren’t good to each other. My baby and I can find that perfect place. This gun will get us there as fast as possible.” Lorna tucks the gun under her chin and squeezes the trigger. She falls lifeless to the ground.
David listened to his stomach growl as he wandered down a dirt road just outside of a small town called Garner, Iowa. He had hoped to find a conveniently free meal but found himself in trouble instead. Small towns like Garner are usually filled with wholesome people with wholesome values. Thus the sixteen-year-old thief was ushered out of the town.
“All I wanted was a little food. Jeez, you’d have thought I was tryin’ to rob a bank or somethin’. Maybe I’ll head south a ways where people are a bit more hospitable.” David grumbled to himself. He had been on his own for close to a year now. He left his father’s dirt farm in the hopes of making a better life for himself.
The young Tennessean, David Brown, grew up on his father’s farm which would have been well enough for most any young man had it not been for the drought. A lot of the countryside had experienced the same sort of phenomenon. David’s father insisted on staying in Tennessee but David felt he had to choose between staying home and starving or seeing the country and starving. So he opted to see the great nation he lived in and all of the poverty it could hold in it.
1936 isn’t the best time to see the nation in all her glory but with hope in his heart David set out on his own. He tried to find work for himself doing most anything he could but the depression was on and anyone that had a job was doing their best to keep it and anyone that didn’t have work was trying to find it. Eventually he swallowed his pride to be able to swallow something edible. David hated the idea of stealing especially since he was raised as a good proper Christian by his mother but it was that or starve.
“Garner, Iowa and its residents don’t enjoy the company of thieves.” said the rough old officer as he dragged the young man to the edge of the town. “I don’t want to see you in this town again, son. We’ve got honest hardworking folks that live here and we don’t need sinners like you.”
David picked himself up from the ground and dusted himself off and without a word to the well-fed man with the pistol walked away. He kept walking until he came across an intersection with a decent shade tree and nice pond that may hopefully contain some tasty fish.
The shade was cast by a black walnut tree that had stood its ground here for more than a century. David hoped to eat some of its offerings but came to find the walnuts had already matured. As he had learned from his parents, black walnut trees hand out a nut that when fully developed has an unpleasant taste and is more trouble than it’s worth to get to through a hard shell. David still had a piece of string with a hook that he could easily catch himself dinner with provided there were fish to be caught.
David walked around the tree to get closer to the pond and discovered that he was not alone. Sitting in a swing that hung from the tree was a young woman. David and the lady had startled each other. David laughed at himself, “Oh--Hello ma’am.”
“Hello.” The blonde-haired blue-eyed woman answered coyly. David could see she had been crying. She used her kerchief to dry her tears.
“Excuse me miss but is everything alright?” David asked as he unraveled his fishing line.
“Yes. Everything is just fine, thank you.” She was obviously lying.
David asked again, “Are you sure ma’am? I’m no doctor or nothin’ but it looks to me your eyes are leaking or you seem to be upset over somethin’. If you don’t want to talk about it that’s fine but I’m gonna be here a while so I’ll just keep askin’. My momma taught me we should care about every livin’ creature on God’s green earth especially people. I can see you got some problems and if you’ll let me I’d be more than happy to lend an ear.” The woman sat quietly.
“Okay. My name is David in case you care to address me.”
David walked over to the woman and offered his hand. “I’m Lorna.” She took his hand and shook it.
“Pleased to meet you miss Lorna. Now what is it that has you all worked up?” The young man casts his line into the pond.
“Well Mr. David it just happens that I found out I was to be expecting a baby soon.” Lorna begins to swing herself lightly.
“Well that’s good news congratulations!” He smiles at her.
“Oh no it’s not especially for me.” She explains. “I am neither wed nor expecting to be. All of Garner would laugh at me and call me a whore if they knew. I can’t have this baby.”
“What about the baby’s pa? Where is he?” David took a seat on the grass.
Lorna almost burst into tears. “He-he was beaten to death not more than a week ago.”
“Beaten to death?” David asked with disbelief.
“Yes. He was accused of taking Mr. Henry’s horse. So Mr. Henry’s sons dragged him out of his bed in the middle of the night and beat him with shovels in a cornfield where he was found dead the next day. He didn’t even take the nag! Those Henry boys just wanted an excuse to hurt an innocent black man.” Lorna reveals.
“The father of your baby is a black man? If your pa is anything like mine then he won’t like that at all.” David recasts his line.
Lorna agrees. “My daddy just doesn’t understand that Paul was a good, good man. He was gentle and caring. He was a hard worker and always treated me kindly. I treated him the same way and one day we realized we had fallen in love. It’s not common especially around these parts but I couldn’t help how I felt about him. I’ve lost everything. I just want to leave this place and never come back. I want to just roam and see the country and find a perfect place for me in it.”
David thinks before responding. “I don’t know if that’s such a good idea. I’ve been wandering around for the better part of a year now and I know one thing for sure: This is no life for an expecting mother. I’m having a hard time trying to take care of myself there’s no way I could handle a baby and this. I sleep in fields, I have to steal my food, and people can be just plain uncharitable sometimes. Don’t you think you could just go and talk to your dad and explain how all of this happened? He’s got to be a reasonable man. He doesn’t want you to live on the street.”
David walks over to Lorna to comfort her but she reaches into her handbag and pulls out a pistol. “Whoa! Easy there Lorna there’s no call for that. You’ll just get someone hurt.”
“My daddy has already heard all about his grandchild and has decided that he doesn’t want anything to do with my baby. He doesn’t want anything to do with harlot daughter either.” Lorna doesn’t want to listen. She knows the town she grew up in would never let her live in peace with her baby. She loved Paul more than she ever thought possible. She’s desperate to leave her small town and head to someplace better. “I just want to go somewhere that I can live without someone talking behind my back about the things I’ve done. I want to be in a place that I can be happy with my baby. I want to be somewhere perfect.”
David holds his hands up in plain sight for fear of the pistol. “Now I can’t think of but one place like that and it ain’t here on this world. As long as you have neighbors they’ll talk about you and sometimes it’ll be bad but that’s just people. Everyone wants something better for themselves but not everyone gets it and that makes people bitter. Bitter people try to bring everyone around them down to build themselves up.”
“As long as you’re unmarried and have a mixed baby your neighbors are gonna talk. They’re gonna snicker and laugh but to Hell with them. If you don’t regret what you done then why should you worry on what other folks are sayin’?” Lorna puts the gun down.
“Come on, now I can walk you back to that town and I’ll go with you to talk to your pa and we can talk to him all about the Henry boys and Paul and he’ll have to get used to the idea of his grandbaby because like it or not that little fella’s on his way.” David rolls up his fishing line still listening to his stomach rumbling. “Maybe you could even get me an invitation to supper.”
Lorna chuckles half-heartedly. “You know David you are a nice young man. Despite living like you do and the way people have not shown you kindness you still remain hopeful. I hope you find whatever you’re looking for.”
“Thanks, Miss Lorna. Now come on so we can sort all of this out.” David offers his hand to her and she accepts his help to her feet. He starts to walk in front of her and she knocks him over the head with the revolver she had in her handbag.
“I came out here to join Paul, David. I was ready to when you walked up. Thanks for trying but I don’t want to live in a place where people aren’t good to each other. My baby and I can find that perfect place. This gun will get us there as fast as possible.” Lorna tucks the gun under her chin and squeezes the trigger. She falls lifeless to the ground.
Thursday, September 30, 2010
More Crappy Poetry!!! Woo!!
I'm a terrible poet. I know it. But I try. I like all different forms of expression. Sometimes these creations are good other times they're pretty bad. Whatever. It doesn't really matter. I do it for me and I hope you like it but you don't have to. An artist can't aim to please anyone but himself. Maybe that's why so many of us are starvin'.
My Baby
Everybody always wants to be mean to my baby
Can’t they see she’s the epitome of a lady
But the people they say she’s actin’ kinda shady
She flirts with all the boys and don’t wanna be my baby
Can’t Stand
Can’t stand what it is you’ve done to me
Don’t know if I can live with how you’ve hurt me
Wouldn’t want you if I had the chance again
Just wait and you’ll get what you deserve in the end
Hope you can’t sleep at night but I know you don’t care
But I hurt every time that I breathe the air
I died from the pain you’ve put me through
Now I can’t tell what’s lies or true
Can’t stand what it is you’ve done to me
Won’t be here when you decide you want me
Can’t stand on my own two feet anymore
You’ve tossed me around like your ragdoll whore
Can’t stand that I was dumb enough to fall for you
I’m through doin’ time in hell for you
Summer’s Season
Flyin’ away through the trees
Half a world away from the next freeze
Free now to enjoy the summer breeze
Swingin’ from the branches with carefree ease
Down to the creek to ring out a few fleas
Splashin’ down into the cool river
Water’s so cold, sets my bones to shiver
Fish race away like a shot after a trigger
The world is too kind a gift giver
Offerin’ freedom, so she’s not one to hinder
Sun comes down time to go home
Tomorrow offers another chance to roam
Never should man be kept under a glass dome
Summer’s season invites play only where sun has shone
When Winter’s come I’ll want to be wherever Summer’s gone
My Baby
Everybody always wants to be mean to my baby
Can’t they see she’s the epitome of a lady
But the people they say she’s actin’ kinda shady
She flirts with all the boys and don’t wanna be my baby
Can’t Stand
Can’t stand what it is you’ve done to me
Don’t know if I can live with how you’ve hurt me
Wouldn’t want you if I had the chance again
Just wait and you’ll get what you deserve in the end
Hope you can’t sleep at night but I know you don’t care
But I hurt every time that I breathe the air
I died from the pain you’ve put me through
Now I can’t tell what’s lies or true
Can’t stand what it is you’ve done to me
Won’t be here when you decide you want me
Can’t stand on my own two feet anymore
You’ve tossed me around like your ragdoll whore
Can’t stand that I was dumb enough to fall for you
I’m through doin’ time in hell for you
Summer’s Season
Flyin’ away through the trees
Half a world away from the next freeze
Free now to enjoy the summer breeze
Swingin’ from the branches with carefree ease
Down to the creek to ring out a few fleas
Splashin’ down into the cool river
Water’s so cold, sets my bones to shiver
Fish race away like a shot after a trigger
The world is too kind a gift giver
Offerin’ freedom, so she’s not one to hinder
Sun comes down time to go home
Tomorrow offers another chance to roam
Never should man be kept under a glass dome
Summer’s season invites play only where sun has shone
When Winter’s come I’ll want to be wherever Summer’s gone
Oliver Dunn: Black and White
This is a story about a character I created named Oliver Dunn. He's kind of a harsh, gruff old lawman. He's seen the world I created for my book change into something stranger. He's seen this group of misfits slowly become so commonplace that it blurs the lines between black and white. He plays a very minor role in my book but will be a bit more prominent in later stories. I think he's a decent enough creation to have his own books but we'll see. Hope you enjoy!
Everybody always talks about “the good ol’ days”, the days when things made sense and it didn’t feel like the end of the world was next week. But things have always felt like that. Captain Oliver Dunn’s daddy had told him that, years ago.
As the Captain sits in an El Paso park puffing on a cigar and reading a newspaper article titled “The Good Ol’ Days” by some right-wing Christian jackass. The article discusses a popular belief that a particular group of people are destroying America. It says that the world would be better off if these savages would go back from wherever they came. It pisses Oliver off that people still go through the same mess they did fifty years ago and fifty years before that and fifty years before that. It seems like the world will never escape those damned “good ol’ days” where some damned group is being persecuted whether it’s the natives, blacks, Jews, women, or now the “Enhanced Americans”.
Ol’ Captain Ollie is past his prime now. He’s been handed down his father’s wisdom, wrinkles, and graying hair. He hasn’t had an easy life nor has it gotten much easier with his fame and wealth. Since becoming the first unenhanced human to defeat a super-powered “savage”, as they used to call them and sometimes still do, Oliver has made the Dunn name very popular. He’s become something of a folk hero. The pictures of his first David versus Goliath type battle launched his career into something he wasn’t ready for. In the years that have passed he’s led a small army against the monsters, mutations, and science experiments gone awry and grown into his leadership role.
When Ollie thinks back to “the good ol’ days” he remembers running scared from blob men or being cut by bone spikes or trying not to get his head crushed in giant purple hands. “The good ol’ days” weren’t so nice for him. He’s lost a lot of friends over a lot of years. He’s fought a lot of battles that never did much to make the world any safer. He’d stop a fire-breathing dragon-woman and a couple of giant robots would show up. He’d beat them and something else would come up either trying to force its power on the world or get the world to make peace with it.
That was the hardest part of the job, convincing the public that the former janitor that’s now a giant yellow lizard person with a rocket launcher strapped to his arm doesn’t want to harm anyone. As ridiculous as it may sound a lot of those people that Captain Dunn had to handle were just misunderstood. They were just victims that had been kidnapped in the night, taken to some secret lab where experiments were conducted on them and then they were sent back into the world to wreak havoc. Even the career criminals that agreed to undergo these transformations didn’t know if they’d work out okay or not. Even the best people would snap if they had a fairly normal life and then one day they were slobbering “savages”.
Now everybody’s life is a bit crazier. When the Captain was a boy people were still people. They went to school, they had jobs, they committed crimes, and were arrested by officers, like Sergeant Howard Dunn of El Paso, for it. The definition of “people” is a bit looser now. In the years that Captain Oliver Dunn of the United States Rangers has been working in law enforcement the number of super-powered people has risen to include a quarter of the world’s population. He’s been fighting a losing battle to stop the production of these beings but someone, somewhere, often outside of his jurisdiction, keeps manufacturing new and more advanced super-people.
In his early days he got by on luck. Much like in the special effects of early movies important wires or machinery was visible and the creations weren’t that great anyway. The technology has gotten more and more advanced. There used to be hope of reversing what had been done to these people but oftentimes this is no longer the case.
Captain Dunn’s mission has changed. Instead of stopping these things from coming into existence the government has charged him with creating peace in a society that has an abundance of these creations and stopping those that would abuse their abilities to terrorize citizens. Captain Dunn has found that an unspoken challenge to the job is the society itself. Often small minded citizens find themselves afraid of these peaceful, although possibly dangerous, super-powered individuals. Dunn has to integrate these reborn citizens into a society that hates and fears them. No one wants a robot with laser eyes living next door to them even if this particular robot used to be a third grade teacher named Eleanor Kline with no prior arrest record.
Oliver’s reflection in El Paso is cut short as he hears shouting behind him. A group of young boys are obviously picking on another boy. Ollie folds his paper and sucks the last bit of smoke out of his cigar before he puts it out and trashes it. He adjusts his cowboy hat and his knee pops as he begins walking towards the scuffle.
“You boys got a problem here?” Oliver speaks with the weight and authority of a man that’s stared down men with the ability to end his life a dozen times over. It’s the only way he knows how to speak anymore.
The boys stop what their doing and stretch their circle to reveal the beaten boy they’d been picking on. The boy, instantly recognizable even if you’d only seen him once, tries to stand but his arms are too weak for that now. Blood runs from the boy’s face and fattened lips. His clothes are tattered and dirty but not because of the beating.
Captain Dunn knows the boys last name is Walker, he could never forget his first. Walker inherited his father’s purple skin and black eyes but not his strength. “My name’s Captain Oliver Dunn.” The boy takes the captain’s out stretched hand.
The captain helps the boy to his feet. “I’m uh I’m J-Jon Walker.”
“You know I had a scuffle or two some years back with a Henry Walker. You wouldn’t happen to be any relation to him at all would you, Jon?” Oliver asks already knowing the answer.
“Y-Yes, Sir. You aren’t gonna ugh” Jon cringes in pain for a second, “arrest me now are you?”
Oliver chuckles lightly “Heh, I ain’t arresting you unless you done somethin’ wrong. Now, what I do consider wrong is gangin’ up on a boy and beatin’ him like these damned fools did here.” Oliver speaks a loud and clear truth, “What the hell were you boys thinkin’? How can you treat someone like this?”
That doesn’t sit well with one of the boys who picks up a few rocks and chunks them at the pair. Dunn is hit across his brow and again in the shoulder. The other boys pick up rocks and follow the boy’s lead. Oliver wishes he could draw his gun on ‘em and make things easier for himself. Jon does.
Jon slams his fist down on the ground and concentrates. He shouts as his body begins to bubble like boiling water. The boys stop throwing rocks as Jon grows several sizes larger.
“He is a freak!” one boy shouts. The stoning resumes.
Jon shouts in frustration. “AAAARRGH!!!” His arms swing wildly knocking over his classmates. Joe Forrester with his red hair and buck teeth, Ben “Bean Pole” Stowe, Jorge Mendoza the son without a father all go down in the first swing. Just as many go down in the second. Jon grabs the ring leader of the bunch by his leg and hold him upside down.
The kid doesn’t learn. He throws his last stone at the giant, purple, Jon. It hits Jon square in the eye, only making him angrier. He growls and lifts the boy higher ready to slam him into the pavement.
“Jon!!!” Captain Dunn stands between the little hate monger and his paved doom.
Jon stops.
“It’s okay, Jon. It’s okay to be pissed at that little piece of trash. He hit me too. I gotta gun and I coulda pulled it…but I didn’t. I’ll make sure these boys get in as much trouble as they can. But I can’t let you kill. You kill, I gotta take you down too. You gotta choice in how you wanna deal with him.”
Jon’s almost all instinct now. He’s shaking he’s so angry. No one could blame him. He was walking home from school. Happy to be alive since he found out that Jessica Gonzalez actually wants to go see a movie with him this weekend on a real date. He knew there might be repercussions in the form of whispers or words. He hadn’t expected his classmates to actually follow him home. He hadn’t expected them to fight him. He hadn’t expected them to call him a “savage” or say that the girl he’d spent most of the school year pining over was just some “gutter trash slut”. More so than anything else it was the revelation that the boys he’d called his friends felt that way about him. They thought he was a monster. They didn’t consider Jon to be a human. Now here Jon was proving them right with strength he’d kept hidden so he’d never be used like his father was. Jon’s hate and hurt were using his strength now.
Jon lowered the whimpering boy into Oliver’s hands. The captain laid the boy onto the street. Jon’s strength seemingly evaporated into nothing. The transformation back into his scrawny purple self was much less violent and took much less effort. Jon cried and wrapped his arms around Captain Dunn. “Shh shh, it’s okay, big guy. It’s all okay now. It’s all over.” They watched the boys run away. Oliver looked down and young Jon cried into his chest.
As more rocks hit Oliver and Jon they both realized that Captain Dunn was a liar.
Everybody always talks about “the good ol’ days”, the days when things made sense and it didn’t feel like the end of the world was next week. But things have always felt like that. Captain Oliver Dunn’s daddy had told him that, years ago.
As the Captain sits in an El Paso park puffing on a cigar and reading a newspaper article titled “The Good Ol’ Days” by some right-wing Christian jackass. The article discusses a popular belief that a particular group of people are destroying America. It says that the world would be better off if these savages would go back from wherever they came. It pisses Oliver off that people still go through the same mess they did fifty years ago and fifty years before that and fifty years before that. It seems like the world will never escape those damned “good ol’ days” where some damned group is being persecuted whether it’s the natives, blacks, Jews, women, or now the “Enhanced Americans”.
Ol’ Captain Ollie is past his prime now. He’s been handed down his father’s wisdom, wrinkles, and graying hair. He hasn’t had an easy life nor has it gotten much easier with his fame and wealth. Since becoming the first unenhanced human to defeat a super-powered “savage”, as they used to call them and sometimes still do, Oliver has made the Dunn name very popular. He’s become something of a folk hero. The pictures of his first David versus Goliath type battle launched his career into something he wasn’t ready for. In the years that have passed he’s led a small army against the monsters, mutations, and science experiments gone awry and grown into his leadership role.
When Ollie thinks back to “the good ol’ days” he remembers running scared from blob men or being cut by bone spikes or trying not to get his head crushed in giant purple hands. “The good ol’ days” weren’t so nice for him. He’s lost a lot of friends over a lot of years. He’s fought a lot of battles that never did much to make the world any safer. He’d stop a fire-breathing dragon-woman and a couple of giant robots would show up. He’d beat them and something else would come up either trying to force its power on the world or get the world to make peace with it.
That was the hardest part of the job, convincing the public that the former janitor that’s now a giant yellow lizard person with a rocket launcher strapped to his arm doesn’t want to harm anyone. As ridiculous as it may sound a lot of those people that Captain Dunn had to handle were just misunderstood. They were just victims that had been kidnapped in the night, taken to some secret lab where experiments were conducted on them and then they were sent back into the world to wreak havoc. Even the career criminals that agreed to undergo these transformations didn’t know if they’d work out okay or not. Even the best people would snap if they had a fairly normal life and then one day they were slobbering “savages”.
Now everybody’s life is a bit crazier. When the Captain was a boy people were still people. They went to school, they had jobs, they committed crimes, and were arrested by officers, like Sergeant Howard Dunn of El Paso, for it. The definition of “people” is a bit looser now. In the years that Captain Oliver Dunn of the United States Rangers has been working in law enforcement the number of super-powered people has risen to include a quarter of the world’s population. He’s been fighting a losing battle to stop the production of these beings but someone, somewhere, often outside of his jurisdiction, keeps manufacturing new and more advanced super-people.
In his early days he got by on luck. Much like in the special effects of early movies important wires or machinery was visible and the creations weren’t that great anyway. The technology has gotten more and more advanced. There used to be hope of reversing what had been done to these people but oftentimes this is no longer the case.
Captain Dunn’s mission has changed. Instead of stopping these things from coming into existence the government has charged him with creating peace in a society that has an abundance of these creations and stopping those that would abuse their abilities to terrorize citizens. Captain Dunn has found that an unspoken challenge to the job is the society itself. Often small minded citizens find themselves afraid of these peaceful, although possibly dangerous, super-powered individuals. Dunn has to integrate these reborn citizens into a society that hates and fears them. No one wants a robot with laser eyes living next door to them even if this particular robot used to be a third grade teacher named Eleanor Kline with no prior arrest record.
Oliver’s reflection in El Paso is cut short as he hears shouting behind him. A group of young boys are obviously picking on another boy. Ollie folds his paper and sucks the last bit of smoke out of his cigar before he puts it out and trashes it. He adjusts his cowboy hat and his knee pops as he begins walking towards the scuffle.
“You boys got a problem here?” Oliver speaks with the weight and authority of a man that’s stared down men with the ability to end his life a dozen times over. It’s the only way he knows how to speak anymore.
The boys stop what their doing and stretch their circle to reveal the beaten boy they’d been picking on. The boy, instantly recognizable even if you’d only seen him once, tries to stand but his arms are too weak for that now. Blood runs from the boy’s face and fattened lips. His clothes are tattered and dirty but not because of the beating.
Captain Dunn knows the boys last name is Walker, he could never forget his first. Walker inherited his father’s purple skin and black eyes but not his strength. “My name’s Captain Oliver Dunn.” The boy takes the captain’s out stretched hand.
The captain helps the boy to his feet. “I’m uh I’m J-Jon Walker.”
“You know I had a scuffle or two some years back with a Henry Walker. You wouldn’t happen to be any relation to him at all would you, Jon?” Oliver asks already knowing the answer.
“Y-Yes, Sir. You aren’t gonna ugh” Jon cringes in pain for a second, “arrest me now are you?”
Oliver chuckles lightly “Heh, I ain’t arresting you unless you done somethin’ wrong. Now, what I do consider wrong is gangin’ up on a boy and beatin’ him like these damned fools did here.” Oliver speaks a loud and clear truth, “What the hell were you boys thinkin’? How can you treat someone like this?”
That doesn’t sit well with one of the boys who picks up a few rocks and chunks them at the pair. Dunn is hit across his brow and again in the shoulder. The other boys pick up rocks and follow the boy’s lead. Oliver wishes he could draw his gun on ‘em and make things easier for himself. Jon does.
Jon slams his fist down on the ground and concentrates. He shouts as his body begins to bubble like boiling water. The boys stop throwing rocks as Jon grows several sizes larger.
“He is a freak!” one boy shouts. The stoning resumes.
Jon shouts in frustration. “AAAARRGH!!!” His arms swing wildly knocking over his classmates. Joe Forrester with his red hair and buck teeth, Ben “Bean Pole” Stowe, Jorge Mendoza the son without a father all go down in the first swing. Just as many go down in the second. Jon grabs the ring leader of the bunch by his leg and hold him upside down.
The kid doesn’t learn. He throws his last stone at the giant, purple, Jon. It hits Jon square in the eye, only making him angrier. He growls and lifts the boy higher ready to slam him into the pavement.
“Jon!!!” Captain Dunn stands between the little hate monger and his paved doom.
Jon stops.
“It’s okay, Jon. It’s okay to be pissed at that little piece of trash. He hit me too. I gotta gun and I coulda pulled it…but I didn’t. I’ll make sure these boys get in as much trouble as they can. But I can’t let you kill. You kill, I gotta take you down too. You gotta choice in how you wanna deal with him.”
Jon’s almost all instinct now. He’s shaking he’s so angry. No one could blame him. He was walking home from school. Happy to be alive since he found out that Jessica Gonzalez actually wants to go see a movie with him this weekend on a real date. He knew there might be repercussions in the form of whispers or words. He hadn’t expected his classmates to actually follow him home. He hadn’t expected them to fight him. He hadn’t expected them to call him a “savage” or say that the girl he’d spent most of the school year pining over was just some “gutter trash slut”. More so than anything else it was the revelation that the boys he’d called his friends felt that way about him. They thought he was a monster. They didn’t consider Jon to be a human. Now here Jon was proving them right with strength he’d kept hidden so he’d never be used like his father was. Jon’s hate and hurt were using his strength now.
Jon lowered the whimpering boy into Oliver’s hands. The captain laid the boy onto the street. Jon’s strength seemingly evaporated into nothing. The transformation back into his scrawny purple self was much less violent and took much less effort. Jon cried and wrapped his arms around Captain Dunn. “Shh shh, it’s okay, big guy. It’s all okay now. It’s all over.” They watched the boys run away. Oliver looked down and young Jon cried into his chest.
As more rocks hit Oliver and Jon they both realized that Captain Dunn was a liar.
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
Vacation
Greetin's True Believers, Devil Readers, Southern Sayers, and other miscellaneous vagabonds,
I'm headin' out for vacation this Friday. Goin' to Costa Rica for my best friend's weddin'. Gonna be out for two weeks, chasin' monkeys, playin' on a beach, workin' on projects for you guys (against the advice of my darlin' June).
I'm not one to sit still and I'm excited about havin' time to focus on this particular project. I have a great idea I think but it still needs a plot. Sounds like it should practically write itself and while it seems to be, it's got no direction. I won't say more than that 'cause I'd hate to disappoint.
I'm headin' out for vacation this Friday. Goin' to Costa Rica for my best friend's weddin'. Gonna be out for two weeks, chasin' monkeys, playin' on a beach, workin' on projects for you guys (against the advice of my darlin' June).
I'm not one to sit still and I'm excited about havin' time to focus on this particular project. I have a great idea I think but it still needs a plot. Sounds like it should practically write itself and while it seems to be, it's got no direction. I won't say more than that 'cause I'd hate to disappoint.
While I'm gone I'm gonna leave you guys and gals with a few things I've already written. Hope you enjoy 'em. I'll tell you all about the trip when I get back. Hopefully, I'll have lots more new stuff to share with you guys when I get back too.
Now, I'm off to figure out the best way to sneak a monkey into the country...
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
The Dream
Recently, these Teapartiers have been makin' some headway in the political world. Two years ago they were unheard of and as people have been becomin' more and more disatisfied with the two party system they've steadily been gainin' a foot hold politically. There's a big market out there, I figure, if you can sell a newer, brighter, American dream.
The Teaparty itself seems to be very into a limited government and having people to check-up on them. Doesn't seem too bad. I don't want the government involved in every aspect of my life. And workin' for a small business I can tell you that it's a bitch when the IRS says you owe them money. Because regardless of whether you do or not, you owe them money.
They do want to simplify the tax system which I think would be good. It's not terribly complex now, or at least the small business taxes and my personal taxes aren't. But then I don't have kids or a house or a charity. But if you know what the percentages are for FICA, Medicare, etc. are and how to figure the math on those and just who to pay these taxes to it's not the most complicated thing in the world. Though it's by far the easiest. I know we get lots of refunds and letters sayin' we owe money throughout the year so maybe the IRS is even a bit confused about how it all works.
They also demand a balanced federal budget. This sounds good too. One should never spend more money than you make. But then I guess VISA, Amex, and the government think that a couple centuries in debt isn't that bad.
All that sounds really nice. I mean having all these independents getting organized to overthrow the tyranny of the Republicans and Democrats. Getting new blooded, movers and shakers in offices to completely change things would be a great idea.
But is that what's actually goin' on? If you look at the guys winnin' these elections they all come up as Republican. They aren't the incumbents. They tend to be ultra-conservative, younger, Republicans. I wouldn't say that younger guarantees different or better. It does seem that the Tea party is not a new breed so much as a new brand of Republican. It's the same old stuff in a brand new package.
Maybe that's enough for some. You promise them a dream of lower taxes and less government interference and I'm sure people will sign on. Obama promised a new America, a changed America. While I believe he's tried to do that I can't say that he's delivered. Same as no politician before him has delivered.
I dunno that you've heard the rumor, but politicians lie. Shockin', I know. They lie. Sometimes it's a promise they have no intention of keeping from the start. Sometimes it's because people get in the way. You share your dream with a bunch of people and the dreams start to get muddled and murky.
What the Teaparty seems to be doin is what they accuse Obama of doin'. They say thy're sellin' you the American dream and the give you the same ol' stuff that hasn't worked before. They're most famous nominee so far has been Christine O'Donnell. She is poised to take over Vice President Biden's senate seat. So that gives her potential to be V.P. herself sometime down the line, or better maybe. And what is it that this gal promotes in her campaign? She's ultra-conservative. Anti-masturbation. Believes that homsexuals have a sort of identity crisis caused by outside social factors. Promotes conservative sexual morality. She also believes she's heard the voice of God. (In Texas, you could enter that as a plea of insanity.) I really can't get behind any of that.
Not to mention they're funded by FreedomWorks. Ever heard of 'em? Me either so I did a lil lookin'. They're run by Dick Armey (Swear to Jeebus, I did not mak it up.) Well the Dick Armey organized a Republican Revolution back in the 90's that put a lot of Repub's in power. FreedomWorks is a non-profit organization that trains and encourages people to be active in politics. They don't actually make any money but they receive donations from companies to stick around anyway. Among other they're gettin' money from Phillip-Morris, Verizon, and AT&T. So they say these Teapartiers are helpin' the lil guys and indepenents out but they're backed by Republicans and CEO's of highly wealthy companies that screw you over daily. Hell Phillip-Morris legally sells you crap to give you cancer.
Brand new packagin' but these are the same guys that don't want gays to be open in the military. Same guys that for the last eight years have wanted to give tax cuts to the rich. Same wasps that only want to serve the wasps. They offer this dream to help the lil guy, to help America, when they're backed by Phillip-Morris and Dick Armey.
Just like those packs of cigarettes, when somebody's tryin' to sell you a dream you gotta turn it on it's side and give it a close look to figure out if it's got a warnin' label. Better be suspicious if it doesn't.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Christine_O%27Donnell
http://www.cnn.com/2010/POLITICS/09/24/mann.odonnell/index.html
http://homepage.mac.com/rouses/good-guys/Voice/case%20for%20chastity.html
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tea_Party_movement
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/FreedomWorks
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dick_Armey
The Teaparty itself seems to be very into a limited government and having people to check-up on them. Doesn't seem too bad. I don't want the government involved in every aspect of my life. And workin' for a small business I can tell you that it's a bitch when the IRS says you owe them money. Because regardless of whether you do or not, you owe them money.
They do want to simplify the tax system which I think would be good. It's not terribly complex now, or at least the small business taxes and my personal taxes aren't. But then I don't have kids or a house or a charity. But if you know what the percentages are for FICA, Medicare, etc. are and how to figure the math on those and just who to pay these taxes to it's not the most complicated thing in the world. Though it's by far the easiest. I know we get lots of refunds and letters sayin' we owe money throughout the year so maybe the IRS is even a bit confused about how it all works.
They also demand a balanced federal budget. This sounds good too. One should never spend more money than you make. But then I guess VISA, Amex, and the government think that a couple centuries in debt isn't that bad.
All that sounds really nice. I mean having all these independents getting organized to overthrow the tyranny of the Republicans and Democrats. Getting new blooded, movers and shakers in offices to completely change things would be a great idea.
But is that what's actually goin' on? If you look at the guys winnin' these elections they all come up as Republican. They aren't the incumbents. They tend to be ultra-conservative, younger, Republicans. I wouldn't say that younger guarantees different or better. It does seem that the Tea party is not a new breed so much as a new brand of Republican. It's the same old stuff in a brand new package.
Maybe that's enough for some. You promise them a dream of lower taxes and less government interference and I'm sure people will sign on. Obama promised a new America, a changed America. While I believe he's tried to do that I can't say that he's delivered. Same as no politician before him has delivered.
I dunno that you've heard the rumor, but politicians lie. Shockin', I know. They lie. Sometimes it's a promise they have no intention of keeping from the start. Sometimes it's because people get in the way. You share your dream with a bunch of people and the dreams start to get muddled and murky.
What the Teaparty seems to be doin is what they accuse Obama of doin'. They say thy're sellin' you the American dream and the give you the same ol' stuff that hasn't worked before. They're most famous nominee so far has been Christine O'Donnell. She is poised to take over Vice President Biden's senate seat. So that gives her potential to be V.P. herself sometime down the line, or better maybe. And what is it that this gal promotes in her campaign? She's ultra-conservative. Anti-masturbation. Believes that homsexuals have a sort of identity crisis caused by outside social factors. Promotes conservative sexual morality. She also believes she's heard the voice of God. (In Texas, you could enter that as a plea of insanity.) I really can't get behind any of that.
Not to mention they're funded by FreedomWorks. Ever heard of 'em? Me either so I did a lil lookin'. They're run by Dick Armey (Swear to Jeebus, I did not mak it up.) Well the Dick Armey organized a Republican Revolution back in the 90's that put a lot of Repub's in power. FreedomWorks is a non-profit organization that trains and encourages people to be active in politics. They don't actually make any money but they receive donations from companies to stick around anyway. Among other they're gettin' money from Phillip-Morris, Verizon, and AT&T. So they say these Teapartiers are helpin' the lil guys and indepenents out but they're backed by Republicans and CEO's of highly wealthy companies that screw you over daily. Hell Phillip-Morris legally sells you crap to give you cancer.
Brand new packagin' but these are the same guys that don't want gays to be open in the military. Same guys that for the last eight years have wanted to give tax cuts to the rich. Same wasps that only want to serve the wasps. They offer this dream to help the lil guy, to help America, when they're backed by Phillip-Morris and Dick Armey.
Just like those packs of cigarettes, when somebody's tryin' to sell you a dream you gotta turn it on it's side and give it a close look to figure out if it's got a warnin' label. Better be suspicious if it doesn't.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Christine_O%27Donnell
http://www.cnn.com/2010/POLITICS/09/24/mann.odonnell/index.html
http://homepage.mac.com/rouses/good-guys/Voice/case%20for%20chastity.html
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tea_Party_movement
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/FreedomWorks
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dick_Armey
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
Rebirth
I was flippin' through all this stuff I've written on this blog and came to the realization that I've been at this for a year now. A year and about a month actually. I hadn't even noticed, I been so busy.
Damn where does the time go? Another year down the drain and not much has changed. Still broke, still chubby, still unpublished, still in Texas.
I think I may have lost my way here and there. Lookin' back I see where I gave you some crap. But I think I gave you some good ones too. I was pressed for time on some and others flowed out like water in minutes. I can't give you gold every time. But I'll do my best.
I dunno how many of you have tried to write a two page paper and work 60 hours a week and keep a girlfriend but it gets a lil challengin' here and there and so one or the other tends to suffer. But a writer's gotta live his life or else he's got nuthin' worth sayin' anyway.
A writer's gotta walk outside and see the world. He's gotta question everything and take notice of every joy and pain in the world. He's gotta be sensitive in a world that crushes sensitivity. A writer is a lot more than a person with a pen and paper, he's someone that takes the whole of our existence, makes sense of it, and redelivers it to us in a profound way. The more that author knows about anything and everything, the more he's seen and heard, the better his story is gonna be.
One of the most important tools in an author's arsenal is his sensitivity. For any artist really. You gotta suffer when others suffer. You gotta smile when others smile. Artist hearts beat with the world. That sensitivity allows you to be reborn as every single person that ever lived or ever will live. But it also weighs heavy on your soul.
To paraphrase Emily Dickinson (I'm pretty sure it was her anyway), a writers greatest gift is his his sensitivity to the world around him but it is also his curse since it can drive him crazy to be that aware of all the wrong and all that love. Hell it even drives regular folks nuts. How could you blame Elliot Smith or Vincent Van Gough or Virginia Woolf or Frida Kahlo or Ernest Hemingway or anybody else?
But I ain't there yet. I got no intentions of goin' just yet. But to say I've never had those thoughts would be a lie. I think everybody has 'em. And I've been through a hell of my own design. I had my reasons to think like that. But right now I'm feelin' good and I gotta handle on things. I'm lookin' forward to the magic I can make outta my words.
I got plans for this blog and the facebook fan page and my writin' in general. I won't commit to anything just yet since I'm still workin' on all this but I'm tryin' to get it all together for you lovely lil readers as soon as I can.
I need to get back into the groove of tryin' to change what I see is wrong with the world. I look around and pay attention to what I see, I listen to the stories people tell me, and a lot of what I see disgusts me. I'm pretty far left, which I'm sure you know by now. I believe in peace and tolerance. I believe in workin' hard and bein' fair. I try to be good to my family. I try to treat people with respect, women in particular. I don't want everyone to be just like me but I do want people to be good and decent to each other.
I realize good is a relative term, so to clarify: I want people to get along as best as we can without robbin', killin', rapin', or otherwise screwin' each other over. There's no makin' everybody happy but I know the world can be better than this. I know I can be better than I am and I'd like to help anyone I can be the best them they can be.
I don't have the keys to everything. I don't have the answers. I only have what I feel, my experience, and my stories. I hope you enjoy readin' them. I hope you get sumthin' outta them.
I thank y'all for stickin' with me thus far. I hope you stick around for another year. I hope you tell your friends about me. Maybe we can change a few things and make our world a lil bit better. Maybe we won't. But who knows? Maybe I'm just self-centered and egotistical. I am human afterall.
Damn where does the time go? Another year down the drain and not much has changed. Still broke, still chubby, still unpublished, still in Texas.
I think I may have lost my way here and there. Lookin' back I see where I gave you some crap. But I think I gave you some good ones too. I was pressed for time on some and others flowed out like water in minutes. I can't give you gold every time. But I'll do my best.
I dunno how many of you have tried to write a two page paper and work 60 hours a week and keep a girlfriend but it gets a lil challengin' here and there and so one or the other tends to suffer. But a writer's gotta live his life or else he's got nuthin' worth sayin' anyway.
A writer's gotta walk outside and see the world. He's gotta question everything and take notice of every joy and pain in the world. He's gotta be sensitive in a world that crushes sensitivity. A writer is a lot more than a person with a pen and paper, he's someone that takes the whole of our existence, makes sense of it, and redelivers it to us in a profound way. The more that author knows about anything and everything, the more he's seen and heard, the better his story is gonna be.
One of the most important tools in an author's arsenal is his sensitivity. For any artist really. You gotta suffer when others suffer. You gotta smile when others smile. Artist hearts beat with the world. That sensitivity allows you to be reborn as every single person that ever lived or ever will live. But it also weighs heavy on your soul.
To paraphrase Emily Dickinson (I'm pretty sure it was her anyway), a writers greatest gift is his his sensitivity to the world around him but it is also his curse since it can drive him crazy to be that aware of all the wrong and all that love. Hell it even drives regular folks nuts. How could you blame Elliot Smith or Vincent Van Gough or Virginia Woolf or Frida Kahlo or Ernest Hemingway or anybody else?
But I ain't there yet. I got no intentions of goin' just yet. But to say I've never had those thoughts would be a lie. I think everybody has 'em. And I've been through a hell of my own design. I had my reasons to think like that. But right now I'm feelin' good and I gotta handle on things. I'm lookin' forward to the magic I can make outta my words.
I got plans for this blog and the facebook fan page and my writin' in general. I won't commit to anything just yet since I'm still workin' on all this but I'm tryin' to get it all together for you lovely lil readers as soon as I can.
I need to get back into the groove of tryin' to change what I see is wrong with the world. I look around and pay attention to what I see, I listen to the stories people tell me, and a lot of what I see disgusts me. I'm pretty far left, which I'm sure you know by now. I believe in peace and tolerance. I believe in workin' hard and bein' fair. I try to be good to my family. I try to treat people with respect, women in particular. I don't want everyone to be just like me but I do want people to be good and decent to each other.
I realize good is a relative term, so to clarify: I want people to get along as best as we can without robbin', killin', rapin', or otherwise screwin' each other over. There's no makin' everybody happy but I know the world can be better than this. I know I can be better than I am and I'd like to help anyone I can be the best them they can be.
I don't have the keys to everything. I don't have the answers. I only have what I feel, my experience, and my stories. I hope you enjoy readin' them. I hope you get sumthin' outta them.
I thank y'all for stickin' with me thus far. I hope you stick around for another year. I hope you tell your friends about me. Maybe we can change a few things and make our world a lil bit better. Maybe we won't. But who knows? Maybe I'm just self-centered and egotistical. I am human afterall.
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
Mad World
Years ago, when I was in high school, I took a few math classes. Most of them I can't remember much about, unfortunately. My nephew called the other day and wanted to know the standard form of a line, I think, and was curious how to find the parallel of a line. I told him what I knew which wasn't much.
I have always been terrible with math. Probably why it took me five tries to pass college algebra. Out of all my math classes there's really only one day that I can remember halfway decently.
It was one mornin' in the fall, I was most likely asleep since that's generally the way I took my math classes. Probably why it took me five tries to pass college algebra. I would try to stay awake but as soon as someone started ramblin' off about numbers and letters in a way that didn't make up a sentence I couldn't really think of any reason to stay awake.
In this sleepy daze, I remember an announcement coming on over the school's P. A. system. It said the teachers were to turn on the T.V.'s we had in the classroom. The were rarely used. On occasion we watched a movie that pertained to whatever class we had or we'd watch Channel One News where Lisa Ling and Maria Menounous were starting out. Never before had an announcement been made across the school for us to stop any lesson and watch the news.
Never in my lifetime had an event of such magnitude occurred. The closest I could think of was the Oklahoma city bombing. I was a bit too young to remember or care much about that when it happened. I'm sure some of your parents or grand parents remember Pearl Harbor. That's the only comparison to me that seems to make much sense. 9/11 was probably this generation's Pearl Harbor.
The teacher hit the power button and there we sat and watched as they replayed video of the second plane goin' into the second tower. We watched as these pillars crumbled down like a child's building blocks. The smoke and the fire and dust that become of the towers.
There was discussion and fears all around the classroom. The Japanese did it. They did that kamikaze stuff in World War Two. No, it was the Chinese they have five people to every one American and they're Communists.
What's a Taliban? Who's Osama Bin Laden? What do you mean terrorist? All of a sudden the world has become something like a comic book. There's a face of real villainy that doesn't belong to Dr. Doom or Lex Luthor. There are real groups that would cause harm to civilians to make a point and they aren't S.P.E.C.T.R.E. or Cobra. The world has just slipped a lil further into the world of the surreal.
This is a strange world we live in. Only a shadow of what it once was. A world that one hundred years ago would not have guessed that there could ever really be an end in store for it. But ever since that damned atom bomb there is a real way for the world, or at least massive chunks of it at a time, to be destroyed.
Alan Moore, author of Watchmen and V for Vendetta, has said that the missiles are havin' an effect on us even if they aren't fired. That this generation and the ones that will grow up in a world after us but still including these weapons will always be able to see the end of existence, however long that always may be.
It's sad that people anyway of any culture have become so desperate, so unable to communicate with each other that some groups find this massive cartoonish destruction to be acceptable. We did not just lose lives of innocent people that day, we also became less innocent as people. We live in a world where we have knives at our throats at every minute, we ignore it for the most part but at any minute someone's hand could slip.
So, as always it's important to take a step back and treat each other with love and kindness. We must understand each other now more than ever. Maybe one day future generations could laugh at the idea of us causing the end of our own world. It really is ridiculous anyway, you know.
I have always been terrible with math. Probably why it took me five tries to pass college algebra. Out of all my math classes there's really only one day that I can remember halfway decently.
It was one mornin' in the fall, I was most likely asleep since that's generally the way I took my math classes. Probably why it took me five tries to pass college algebra. I would try to stay awake but as soon as someone started ramblin' off about numbers and letters in a way that didn't make up a sentence I couldn't really think of any reason to stay awake.
In this sleepy daze, I remember an announcement coming on over the school's P. A. system. It said the teachers were to turn on the T.V.'s we had in the classroom. The were rarely used. On occasion we watched a movie that pertained to whatever class we had or we'd watch Channel One News where Lisa Ling and Maria Menounous were starting out. Never before had an announcement been made across the school for us to stop any lesson and watch the news.
Never in my lifetime had an event of such magnitude occurred. The closest I could think of was the Oklahoma city bombing. I was a bit too young to remember or care much about that when it happened. I'm sure some of your parents or grand parents remember Pearl Harbor. That's the only comparison to me that seems to make much sense. 9/11 was probably this generation's Pearl Harbor.
The teacher hit the power button and there we sat and watched as they replayed video of the second plane goin' into the second tower. We watched as these pillars crumbled down like a child's building blocks. The smoke and the fire and dust that become of the towers.
There was discussion and fears all around the classroom. The Japanese did it. They did that kamikaze stuff in World War Two. No, it was the Chinese they have five people to every one American and they're Communists.
What's a Taliban? Who's Osama Bin Laden? What do you mean terrorist? All of a sudden the world has become something like a comic book. There's a face of real villainy that doesn't belong to Dr. Doom or Lex Luthor. There are real groups that would cause harm to civilians to make a point and they aren't S.P.E.C.T.R.E. or Cobra. The world has just slipped a lil further into the world of the surreal.
This is a strange world we live in. Only a shadow of what it once was. A world that one hundred years ago would not have guessed that there could ever really be an end in store for it. But ever since that damned atom bomb there is a real way for the world, or at least massive chunks of it at a time, to be destroyed.
Alan Moore, author of Watchmen and V for Vendetta, has said that the missiles are havin' an effect on us even if they aren't fired. That this generation and the ones that will grow up in a world after us but still including these weapons will always be able to see the end of existence, however long that always may be.
It's sad that people anyway of any culture have become so desperate, so unable to communicate with each other that some groups find this massive cartoonish destruction to be acceptable. We did not just lose lives of innocent people that day, we also became less innocent as people. We live in a world where we have knives at our throats at every minute, we ignore it for the most part but at any minute someone's hand could slip.
So, as always it's important to take a step back and treat each other with love and kindness. We must understand each other now more than ever. Maybe one day future generations could laugh at the idea of us causing the end of our own world. It really is ridiculous anyway, you know.
Monday, August 30, 2010
Freedom to Love
I think of all the groups and all the things I've supported with this blog the one I've been quietest about is one I probably haven't been all that comfortable with. I grew up in a small town and as open minded as I try to be about things I haven't been exposed to everything yet. I have always been a supporter of the gay community but until recently they weirded me out a lil bit.
I just hadn't been around them a lot or maybe they hadn't come out to me yet. I remember in junior high there was one effeminate boy in school that everyone believed to be gay. There were a few masculine girls that everyone thought were lesbians. I don't know if they were but I doubt everyone treated them nicely. Nobody's very nice in junior high or high school.
Junior high wasn't a pleasant place for anybody. Everybody's at an awkward stage. Some more awkward than others. Some people try dyin' their hair, others wear odd clothing, some sulk in the belief that no one understands them. Everybody goes through this and for generations we just keep sayin' "Oh, they'll get over it." or "It's just those hormones."
Society puts pressure on people to be a certain way. Whether it's the right or wrong way is to say the least debatable. In fact, I'll just go ahead and say it's wrong. Society says people should grow up and be normal functioning members of society. But the minute we surrender to normality we become barely functioning members of society.
We are all weird and strange creatures when compared to one another. How the hell do you make the strange normal? Put it in a restricting, bland suit, give it a short hair cut, and force it to act in a way that's unnatural to it through medication or threats? Yeah, that seems perfectly natural to me.
We are not machines to be programmed. We are who and what we are. We can learn to be better or worse. We can change our thinkin'. But never, never should we allow ourselves to be what we are not. But in this critical stage of adolescence we're told there's no room for fresh ideas or strange looks. There's no room for different cultures. There's no room for homosexuality. Be like us or be shunned.
All of us have given up a lil bit of that freedom to be "normal." We hold onto as much of it as we can but we can't keep all of it. We should hold those people who have chosen to be themselves despite society's shunning of them. They've been true to themselves for the thing that matters most, love.
If you can't be free to love who you love then why bother takin' your next breath? The gays and lesbians are a bold group and even now in 2010 society still says "You guys gross me out." That's not the best idea to have, in my opinion, because I will kiss, hug, and love whoever my heart and I choose.
The issue is not with him, it's with you. It's not a problem that two gay men love each other or that they are attracted to each other it's that you, the third party that has nothing to do with the situation, have an issue with it.
I just hadn't been around them a lot or maybe they hadn't come out to me yet. I remember in junior high there was one effeminate boy in school that everyone believed to be gay. There were a few masculine girls that everyone thought were lesbians. I don't know if they were but I doubt everyone treated them nicely. Nobody's very nice in junior high or high school.
Junior high wasn't a pleasant place for anybody. Everybody's at an awkward stage. Some more awkward than others. Some people try dyin' their hair, others wear odd clothing, some sulk in the belief that no one understands them. Everybody goes through this and for generations we just keep sayin' "Oh, they'll get over it." or "It's just those hormones."
Yeah, it's a biological fact that your body goes through a change. Doesn't mean your kid isn't without some issues. They need people to listen to 'em. They need help figurin' their bodies and everybody else out. They need to know that what's happenin' to them is natural. It's awfully depressin' to think that in all our generations, in the years that we got to the moon, that the Internet provided us with infinite amounts of information, the best we can do with a teenager's problems is go, "meh."
Society puts pressure on people to be a certain way. Whether it's the right or wrong way is to say the least debatable. In fact, I'll just go ahead and say it's wrong. Society says people should grow up and be normal functioning members of society. But the minute we surrender to normality we become barely functioning members of society.
We are all weird and strange creatures when compared to one another. How the hell do you make the strange normal? Put it in a restricting, bland suit, give it a short hair cut, and force it to act in a way that's unnatural to it through medication or threats? Yeah, that seems perfectly natural to me.
We are not machines to be programmed. We are who and what we are. We can learn to be better or worse. We can change our thinkin'. But never, never should we allow ourselves to be what we are not. But in this critical stage of adolescence we're told there's no room for fresh ideas or strange looks. There's no room for different cultures. There's no room for homosexuality. Be like us or be shunned.
All of us have given up a lil bit of that freedom to be "normal." We hold onto as much of it as we can but we can't keep all of it. We should hold those people who have chosen to be themselves despite society's shunning of them. They've been true to themselves for the thing that matters most, love.
If you can't be free to love who you love then why bother takin' your next breath? The gays and lesbians are a bold group and even now in 2010 society still says "You guys gross me out." That's not the best idea to have, in my opinion, because I will kiss, hug, and love whoever my heart and I choose.
The issue is not with him, it's with you. It's not a problem that two gay men love each other or that they are attracted to each other it's that you, the third party that has nothing to do with the situation, have an issue with it.
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
Us and Them
No matter what group you're a part of there's gonna be another group you ain't part of.
Majority vs. Minority, Black vs. White, Red vs. Blue, Shirts vs. Skins, Boys vs. Girls, Haves vs. Have nots, Butter side up vs. Butter side down, Barney vs. Captain Kangaroo, Beatles vs. Elvis, People that like my writing (Us) vs. People that don't like my writing (Them/the bastards).
No sense in killin' or really fightin' with somebody 'cause they hold a different opinion than you. You could spend all day arguin' that Barney could kick Captain Kangaroo's ass. But you'd be wrong.
Captain Kangaroo is awesome. I know some of you don't remember him, but he hosted a show for twenty some odd years and had the best mutton chops in the Saturday morning kids' show business. He had a coat with big pockets and lots of lil puppet friends. He actually ran a few cartoons on his show.
What does Barney got? Purple and green foam and a creepy fondness for huggin' kids. He's got some triceratops sidekicks but they were always kinda lame. He sings, he dances, and wants everybody to be friends. Admirable as that might be, I'd have to say that'd put him on the losing end of some actual conflict resolution.
The Captain is a Captain and most likely has some military training. He'd snap Barney's neck no problem. Or maybe pull a bazooka from his big pockets and blast a hole in the purple perv. I don't care if he is a dinosaur, dinosaurs are no match for bazookas.
Course there might be one flaw in my argument. It's that imaginary creatures can't actually do much of anything. So, arguin' about which one is best makes no difference. One might be more popular. The other might have a lot of fans that take things too far. One might not make sense to you. The other might not make much sense to me. But who am I to interrupt your watchin' of either show or to insist that you can't watch that show? I can't tell you what to like whether it be Captain Kangaroo, Barney, God, Allah, or Odin. Your opinion is yours to hold and therefore not mine to change. I can tell you why I like Woody Woodpecker and you should too but if you don't that won't make you a bad person. (Yeah, I just compared all religious deities to Woody Woodpecker. And yes that is a real cartoon character.)
I was talking to my brother the other day and while I love and respect him I gotta wonder where he's gettin' these terrible ideas. He was tellin' me about people arguin' over the mosque they wanna build near Ground Zero. He said the lady arguin' was in support of it sayin' that she loved the Muslim people and their culture. Said she met a guy online and wanted to marry him and help him come to the U.S. (I'm not gonna argue whether the guy's gonna screw her over on that, I believe he would but that's another story.) My brother said the guy shouldn't be allowed to come because he's a terrorist. He said they're all terrorists.
I had to remind my brother of his less than glamorous past. My brother was part of a gang when he was young. He stole car stereos. Got in shootouts. Stole from convenience stores. Shot an old man in the leg on accident. Got locked up for attempted murder. Drove down the road and threw a kitchen appliance at a man that was just walkin' and mindin' his own business. He was even part of a gang battle that was on a news segment in Houston called "City Under Siege".
City Under Siege? You ever heard of that? Back in the day, about early to mid 90's, the gang violence in Houston and surrounding areas was so bad that a special segment of the news had to be created to cover it and other crimes.
Times were a lil rough back then. He got himself into a lot of trouble. You might even be justified in callin' my brother a terrorist. I did when we had that discussion. Maybe it put things in perspective for him which I hope he puts to good use.
Since doin' all those bad things he's straightened out. He's separated himself from a lot of trouble makers. He's gotten involved in his church. He got married and had kids. He's all about his kids now. He busts his ass to help them become good people and stay outta trouble.
I'd only caution him to not forget where we come from. We are not the ruling class. We are not the ones to look down on others. None of the people that he and I are surrounded by are the elite. When he talks bad about a minority group he's talkin' bad about us. We are Us and we are Them. We've done wrong. We've done good. We are not perfect. We are not to be spit upon.
A different god, skin color, or favorite cartoon show has no bearing on the quality of a person. It's absurd to argue and kill each other over these things. The Muslim people are largely misunderstood. It is that misunderstanding that leads to fear. Every group is misunderstood at one time or another.
As intelligent people we need to see past stereotypes or the dogmas of religion. All religions are s'posed to teach love and peace and lately I see 'em bein' used as a separation tactic. "Separate Us from Them. They want to kill Us. They aren't like Us. You don't want to be like Them. We are good and They are bad." It's not like that. Everybody wants to be good but a few fear mongers are strappin' bombs to people's chests and tellin' others to piss on places of worship.
That's not what reasonable people do. Reasonable people think. They wonder what people are really gettin' upset over. They ask what reasonable solutions are to these problems. Whatever the answer is it surely isn't racism or facism.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UTV_I4atWNw
Majority vs. Minority, Black vs. White, Red vs. Blue, Shirts vs. Skins, Boys vs. Girls, Haves vs. Have nots, Butter side up vs. Butter side down, Barney vs. Captain Kangaroo, Beatles vs. Elvis, People that like my writing (Us) vs. People that don't like my writing (Them/the bastards).
No sense in killin' or really fightin' with somebody 'cause they hold a different opinion than you. You could spend all day arguin' that Barney could kick Captain Kangaroo's ass. But you'd be wrong.
Captain Kangaroo is awesome. I know some of you don't remember him, but he hosted a show for twenty some odd years and had the best mutton chops in the Saturday morning kids' show business. He had a coat with big pockets and lots of lil puppet friends. He actually ran a few cartoons on his show.
What does Barney got? Purple and green foam and a creepy fondness for huggin' kids. He's got some triceratops sidekicks but they were always kinda lame. He sings, he dances, and wants everybody to be friends. Admirable as that might be, I'd have to say that'd put him on the losing end of some actual conflict resolution.
The Captain is a Captain and most likely has some military training. He'd snap Barney's neck no problem. Or maybe pull a bazooka from his big pockets and blast a hole in the purple perv. I don't care if he is a dinosaur, dinosaurs are no match for bazookas.
Course there might be one flaw in my argument. It's that imaginary creatures can't actually do much of anything. So, arguin' about which one is best makes no difference. One might be more popular. The other might have a lot of fans that take things too far. One might not make sense to you. The other might not make much sense to me. But who am I to interrupt your watchin' of either show or to insist that you can't watch that show? I can't tell you what to like whether it be Captain Kangaroo, Barney, God, Allah, or Odin. Your opinion is yours to hold and therefore not mine to change. I can tell you why I like Woody Woodpecker and you should too but if you don't that won't make you a bad person. (Yeah, I just compared all religious deities to Woody Woodpecker. And yes that is a real cartoon character.)
I was talking to my brother the other day and while I love and respect him I gotta wonder where he's gettin' these terrible ideas. He was tellin' me about people arguin' over the mosque they wanna build near Ground Zero. He said the lady arguin' was in support of it sayin' that she loved the Muslim people and their culture. Said she met a guy online and wanted to marry him and help him come to the U.S. (I'm not gonna argue whether the guy's gonna screw her over on that, I believe he would but that's another story.) My brother said the guy shouldn't be allowed to come because he's a terrorist. He said they're all terrorists.
I had to remind my brother of his less than glamorous past. My brother was part of a gang when he was young. He stole car stereos. Got in shootouts. Stole from convenience stores. Shot an old man in the leg on accident. Got locked up for attempted murder. Drove down the road and threw a kitchen appliance at a man that was just walkin' and mindin' his own business. He was even part of a gang battle that was on a news segment in Houston called "City Under Siege".
City Under Siege? You ever heard of that? Back in the day, about early to mid 90's, the gang violence in Houston and surrounding areas was so bad that a special segment of the news had to be created to cover it and other crimes.
Times were a lil rough back then. He got himself into a lot of trouble. You might even be justified in callin' my brother a terrorist. I did when we had that discussion. Maybe it put things in perspective for him which I hope he puts to good use.
Since doin' all those bad things he's straightened out. He's separated himself from a lot of trouble makers. He's gotten involved in his church. He got married and had kids. He's all about his kids now. He busts his ass to help them become good people and stay outta trouble.
I'd only caution him to not forget where we come from. We are not the ruling class. We are not the ones to look down on others. None of the people that he and I are surrounded by are the elite. When he talks bad about a minority group he's talkin' bad about us. We are Us and we are Them. We've done wrong. We've done good. We are not perfect. We are not to be spit upon.
A different god, skin color, or favorite cartoon show has no bearing on the quality of a person. It's absurd to argue and kill each other over these things. The Muslim people are largely misunderstood. It is that misunderstanding that leads to fear. Every group is misunderstood at one time or another.
As intelligent people we need to see past stereotypes or the dogmas of religion. All religions are s'posed to teach love and peace and lately I see 'em bein' used as a separation tactic. "Separate Us from Them. They want to kill Us. They aren't like Us. You don't want to be like Them. We are good and They are bad." It's not like that. Everybody wants to be good but a few fear mongers are strappin' bombs to people's chests and tellin' others to piss on places of worship.
That's not what reasonable people do. Reasonable people think. They wonder what people are really gettin' upset over. They ask what reasonable solutions are to these problems. Whatever the answer is it surely isn't racism or facism.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UTV_I4atWNw
Thursday, August 19, 2010
Bad Blood
I was born the youngest of seven. I have three older brothers and three older sisters. All of them are half siblings. Mom's somewhere in the middle of ten and Dad's somewhere in the middle of eight, I think. I have countless cousins. I could probably walk past a majority of my aunts and uncles without recognizin' 'em. Big family might be an understatement.
With a big family comes lots of problems. I come from a clan of thieves, vagrants, and brawlers. They drink and smoke. They cuss and spit. They also work hard and try to do what is right. I got people addicted to shoppin', I got people addicted to meth. I got people that can't stay sober, and others that can't hold a job. Good and bad family always has both. Nuthin' we can do 'bout it.
They say family is the key to society. (That's the defense they have against gays adoptin' and bein' married and generally bein' accepted. The world's never been in short supply of assholes, dunno that gay parents would change that but an open-minded ashole's gotta be better right?) Family is very much the key to society. Through some random chance we're stuck here with a bunch of people, some good some bad and there's not much gettin' rid of 'em. You gotta deal with 'em or avoid 'em. Some people opt for the kill/eat/feed to ravenous pigs option but it's a bit less popular with the rest of the family in general.
So, what can you really do with a jerk?
Ignorin' it never really seems to get you anywhere. They just get to keep bein' a jerk and you get to keep puttin' up with it. I never liked that advice. Just ignore the bully. Ignore the guy poundin' my face in? Ignore the guy eatin' food that should be mine? Ignore the guy that talks bad about me, my momma, and my dog behind my back? Ignore my big brother/big sister/little cousin that's actin' like a huge jerk? Can't do it. I wanna hit 'em.
But hittin' 'em never really does anything. I mean it can make you feel better. It usually helps if you're justified in it. Should be something deservin' of a punch to the nose. Hit me, I'll hit you back. Hit my girlfriend, I'll hit you back at least three times. Hit my kid, I'll hit you til you apologize to him at least three times. Ate a piece of cake I wanted, I'll wanna hit you so you give it back, but I won't. I can't do it on those everyday annoyances where there's no real reason to. If you already did sumthin' like that a punch wouldn't fix anything.
Shoutin' is another one of those that feels good at the time but may not do anything for you. I know when I get yelled at I'm not really hearin' anything anybody's sayin'. I'm just gonna get angry and yell back or maybe lose control and start a fight. (Well maybe not not 'cause I'm generally chill as a cucumber but someone might.) People get attacked verbally and they become stubborn and uncooperative.
Reasonin' is the thing that tends to work most of the time. For everyday infractions like a messy room needin' to be cleaned, or a cross word spoken, or some rule broken I think reasoning works best.
"I don't like this and here's why."
"Oh well I didn't realize." Or "Still gonna do it and here's why."
Then you gotta work it out from there.
We gotta be slow to anger. We gotta decide what about these situations makes us angry and what's a realistic solution. Especially with family and even if they're assholes. We'll be stuck with them and the world would be a better place if we can learn to make peace with 'em.
and now crappy poetry by me:
Viper's Venom
I worry for you little snake
For the life you might take
Your venom knows no mercy
In it is no controversy
It passes through your tooth
Knowing only one truth
Whatever you strike you kill
That is your defensive will
Spot, hidden, a predator tail
Strike, bite, there is no fail
The damage is now done
And down comes this one
The circle complete
You are your own defeat
With a big family comes lots of problems. I come from a clan of thieves, vagrants, and brawlers. They drink and smoke. They cuss and spit. They also work hard and try to do what is right. I got people addicted to shoppin', I got people addicted to meth. I got people that can't stay sober, and others that can't hold a job. Good and bad family always has both. Nuthin' we can do 'bout it.
They say family is the key to society. (That's the defense they have against gays adoptin' and bein' married and generally bein' accepted. The world's never been in short supply of assholes, dunno that gay parents would change that but an open-minded ashole's gotta be better right?) Family is very much the key to society. Through some random chance we're stuck here with a bunch of people, some good some bad and there's not much gettin' rid of 'em. You gotta deal with 'em or avoid 'em. Some people opt for the kill/eat/feed to ravenous pigs option but it's a bit less popular with the rest of the family in general.
So, what can you really do with a jerk?
Ignorin' it never really seems to get you anywhere. They just get to keep bein' a jerk and you get to keep puttin' up with it. I never liked that advice. Just ignore the bully. Ignore the guy poundin' my face in? Ignore the guy eatin' food that should be mine? Ignore the guy that talks bad about me, my momma, and my dog behind my back? Ignore my big brother/big sister/little cousin that's actin' like a huge jerk? Can't do it. I wanna hit 'em.
But hittin' 'em never really does anything. I mean it can make you feel better. It usually helps if you're justified in it. Should be something deservin' of a punch to the nose. Hit me, I'll hit you back. Hit my girlfriend, I'll hit you back at least three times. Hit my kid, I'll hit you til you apologize to him at least three times. Ate a piece of cake I wanted, I'll wanna hit you so you give it back, but I won't. I can't do it on those everyday annoyances where there's no real reason to. If you already did sumthin' like that a punch wouldn't fix anything.
Shoutin' is another one of those that feels good at the time but may not do anything for you. I know when I get yelled at I'm not really hearin' anything anybody's sayin'. I'm just gonna get angry and yell back or maybe lose control and start a fight. (Well maybe not not 'cause I'm generally chill as a cucumber but someone might.) People get attacked verbally and they become stubborn and uncooperative.
Reasonin' is the thing that tends to work most of the time. For everyday infractions like a messy room needin' to be cleaned, or a cross word spoken, or some rule broken I think reasoning works best.
"I don't like this and here's why."
"Oh well I didn't realize." Or "Still gonna do it and here's why."
Then you gotta work it out from there.
We gotta be slow to anger. We gotta decide what about these situations makes us angry and what's a realistic solution. Especially with family and even if they're assholes. We'll be stuck with them and the world would be a better place if we can learn to make peace with 'em.
and now crappy poetry by me:
Viper's Venom
I worry for you little snake
For the life you might take
Your venom knows no mercy
In it is no controversy
It passes through your tooth
Knowing only one truth
Whatever you strike you kill
That is your defensive will
Spot, hidden, a predator tail
Strike, bite, there is no fail
The damage is now done
And down comes this one
The circle complete
You are your own defeat
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
Double D's of Doom
So, obviously, I'm on Facebook. I updated my status the other day to "May have just finished the greatest story you'll never read.", because I had quite frankly just a story that I feel is my personal best as far as short stories go. It was 18 pages long (too big to post here I think) and had to do with a man talkin' to a smokin', drinkin' dog that showed the man every fear he could have.
A friend asked me if it had any boobies in it and suggested that all the best stories start off "Did someone order a sausage pizza?" To satisfy this friend's sense of humor and lust for boobies I wrote him a lil story using him as a model for a pizza delivery boy. Enjoy!
Double D's of Doom
"Did someone order a sausage pizza?" The chubby, balding, Chewbaccalishly-hairy delivery boy asked chomping away on one slice already.
A sultry voice responded, somewhere behind two rediculously massive breasts, "I did, big boy. Here's a twenty and here's your tip." A hand reached from under the breasts to his crotch pulling the poor boy closer and closer into the fleshy mountains. The boy's eyes lit up like Christmas morning as the woman motorboated his face between the quadruple Z sized titans. It was the happiest day of his life, the day he had hoped for ever since becoming a pizza delivery boy. He wanted to cry but decided against it seeing as it wouldn't seem very manly. Instead, he opted for a giggly "Tee-hee-hee."
The boy's head became stuck between the massive mounds. He tried to pull away as it was becoming increasingly difficult to breath. Alerted to her prospective lover's trouble the large breasted lady harnessed her understanding of centrifugal force to save the pizza guy. She spun and spun and spun and spun with all her might until he popped loose.
She ran in jiggly slow-motion to aid her poor lover who had crashed through a wall in her 1970's-esque hotel. When she pulled his body through the sheet rock, she found him a mishapen, disgusting figure of a man. His neck was broken too.
With his last ounce of strength he whispered to the large breasts in front of him, "You've made me...so...hap..py..." A single tear ran down his face.
The woman lifted her gargantuan jugs revealing the two black holes surrounded by shark-like teeth under them. In unison the extra mouths shouted "SHAZAM!!!!!" and the entire mess of dead body, Chewie fur, blood and sheet rock disappeared into the darkness never to be seen again.
A friend asked me if it had any boobies in it and suggested that all the best stories start off "Did someone order a sausage pizza?" To satisfy this friend's sense of humor and lust for boobies I wrote him a lil story using him as a model for a pizza delivery boy. Enjoy!
Double D's of Doom
"Did someone order a sausage pizza?" The chubby, balding, Chewbaccalishly-hairy delivery boy asked chomping away on one slice already.
A sultry voice responded, somewhere behind two rediculously massive breasts, "I did, big boy. Here's a twenty and here's your tip." A hand reached from under the breasts to his crotch pulling the poor boy closer and closer into the fleshy mountains. The boy's eyes lit up like Christmas morning as the woman motorboated his face between the quadruple Z sized titans. It was the happiest day of his life, the day he had hoped for ever since becoming a pizza delivery boy. He wanted to cry but decided against it seeing as it wouldn't seem very manly. Instead, he opted for a giggly "Tee-hee-hee."
The boy's head became stuck between the massive mounds. He tried to pull away as it was becoming increasingly difficult to breath. Alerted to her prospective lover's trouble the large breasted lady harnessed her understanding of centrifugal force to save the pizza guy. She spun and spun and spun and spun with all her might until he popped loose.
She ran in jiggly slow-motion to aid her poor lover who had crashed through a wall in her 1970's-esque hotel. When she pulled his body through the sheet rock, she found him a mishapen, disgusting figure of a man. His neck was broken too.
With his last ounce of strength he whispered to the large breasts in front of him, "You've made me...so...hap..py..." A single tear ran down his face.
The woman lifted her gargantuan jugs revealing the two black holes surrounded by shark-like teeth under them. In unison the extra mouths shouted "SHAZAM!!!!!" and the entire mess of dead body, Chewie fur, blood and sheet rock disappeared into the darkness never to be seen again.
Thursday, August 12, 2010
Shards of a Broken Life
Here's an eternally sad thought: We are all broken.
We all carry with us the scars of a thousand offenses in everyday life. Every day we gather a few more. Like a glass ballerina forever dancing in the rain and wind, the world takes it's toll on us until we shatter. And every day we get up and endure more and cling to the old damages we have suffered. Our minds are as fragile as any window pane.
There are so many ways to hurt a child. Not just physical abuse, it's almost absurd how the smallest scratches just seem to grow and gather pain. A joke told and taken the wrong way, an unnoticed favoritism for a sibling, and a broken promise can all be as damaging as any gunshot.
I don't know that it's possible to raise a child and do everything perfectly. There will always be things that child feels weren't provided and times where he will resent his parents. There will be times when everyone feels infinately weak and broken. Life will kill a person if he's not careful. But rarely have I seen anyone acknowledge this. Life is hard and unfair and unpredictable but most everyone puts up with it anyway.
The biggest misconception that I have seen in my life and the lives of those around me is that "everyone else" seems to have the answers. What I know is that I have no real answers. I don't know anyone that always feels like they know what to do with every situation. It's a mistake to believe that there's a magic number in age, that when someone reaches a certain point they'll just know what it takes to be everything a good person should be.
Everyone is broken in the way of these sometimes insignificant ways. Everyone seems to hurt at one time or another. We all just bottle it up and no one wants to talk about it until they have a nervous breakdown. If we're luck and we learn from our mistakes we can probably have the answers most of the time but there'll still be a big chunk that we'll be clueless about what to do.
What do you do when the person you've been married to for fifteen years decides they want a divorce? What do you do when you're kid that you loved and tried to teach right from wrong goes into a school and shoots up his friends? What do you do when your sister loves a man that beats her? What do you do when your father tells you you're worthless? What do you do when your mother has a bad drug habit?
As you walk in the mall, the streets, in your work area there are people seconds away from a breakdown. There are people everywhere askin' themselves these questions. We must keep that in mind for two purposes.
The first is to show them the sympathy they need. No matter what the situation is, or what background we have, we all carry pain with us. We are all broken and in need of love. Bad days comes from breakin', good days come from healin'.
The second is to heal ourselves. We can't always have that mask that covers our true feelings. We can't always hide from our pain. And we shouldn't have to. I'm not one to go around cryin' to everyone but I can't stop hurtin' by bottlin' it up. I've opened up enough to enough people and vice-versa so I know the world is with me and I'm with it in knowin' pain.
We are all broken in one way or another. I think every life will have it's own pains and misery. No need in pushin' anybody to break if we can help it.
We all carry with us the scars of a thousand offenses in everyday life. Every day we gather a few more. Like a glass ballerina forever dancing in the rain and wind, the world takes it's toll on us until we shatter. And every day we get up and endure more and cling to the old damages we have suffered. Our minds are as fragile as any window pane.
There are so many ways to hurt a child. Not just physical abuse, it's almost absurd how the smallest scratches just seem to grow and gather pain. A joke told and taken the wrong way, an unnoticed favoritism for a sibling, and a broken promise can all be as damaging as any gunshot.
I don't know that it's possible to raise a child and do everything perfectly. There will always be things that child feels weren't provided and times where he will resent his parents. There will be times when everyone feels infinately weak and broken. Life will kill a person if he's not careful. But rarely have I seen anyone acknowledge this. Life is hard and unfair and unpredictable but most everyone puts up with it anyway.
The biggest misconception that I have seen in my life and the lives of those around me is that "everyone else" seems to have the answers. What I know is that I have no real answers. I don't know anyone that always feels like they know what to do with every situation. It's a mistake to believe that there's a magic number in age, that when someone reaches a certain point they'll just know what it takes to be everything a good person should be.
Everyone is broken in the way of these sometimes insignificant ways. Everyone seems to hurt at one time or another. We all just bottle it up and no one wants to talk about it until they have a nervous breakdown. If we're luck and we learn from our mistakes we can probably have the answers most of the time but there'll still be a big chunk that we'll be clueless about what to do.
What do you do when the person you've been married to for fifteen years decides they want a divorce? What do you do when you're kid that you loved and tried to teach right from wrong goes into a school and shoots up his friends? What do you do when your sister loves a man that beats her? What do you do when your father tells you you're worthless? What do you do when your mother has a bad drug habit?
As you walk in the mall, the streets, in your work area there are people seconds away from a breakdown. There are people everywhere askin' themselves these questions. We must keep that in mind for two purposes.
The first is to show them the sympathy they need. No matter what the situation is, or what background we have, we all carry pain with us. We are all broken and in need of love. Bad days comes from breakin', good days come from healin'.
The second is to heal ourselves. We can't always have that mask that covers our true feelings. We can't always hide from our pain. And we shouldn't have to. I'm not one to go around cryin' to everyone but I can't stop hurtin' by bottlin' it up. I've opened up enough to enough people and vice-versa so I know the world is with me and I'm with it in knowin' pain.
We are all broken in one way or another. I think every life will have it's own pains and misery. No need in pushin' anybody to break if we can help it.
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
Lessons Learned
Been havin' a bad time of life this week.
Just ever stressed as I feel like I'm spinnin' my wheels and gettin' no where. Called a couple of attorneys this week too. Needed to see if I got a case against the ex for the money she owes me. So far the answer is no.
In Texas, I'm told, it's a bitch to get people to pay up when they owe you anything, plus I've got no written agreement, and it's unlikely an attorney would do much for me with my $0 to spend on him. This girl screwed me over and she knew what she was doin'.
Things are lookin' rosy for your friendly neighborhood Texas Devil.
So what can you get outta all this mess? A few lessons I hope.
1.) If you lend somebody some money, get it in writin'.
I'll forget 5 or 10 bucks between friends but if I loan you $200, I expect to get it back so you better expect to sign some paperwork. You don't need much just sumthin' that says you loaned Fred $200 and that he's gonna pay you twenty bucks a week for ten weeks or however you wanna get your money back.
2.) It's never too early to save money.
You can get a job at sixteen you should be able to start savin' at sixteen too. Parents don't let your kids touch it til they can handle it. Kids you won't really be able to handle it til your thirty. In the mean time save as much as you can for retirement. You might miss a party here or there but your wrinkley behind is gonna be livin' it up when your kids move out. I know it seems pointless to save money you could be spendin' on Bieber tickets or a new pair video game but when your ass is bein' abused in a nursin' home your gonna be sorry.
3.) Credit cards are evil.
They allow a guy that makes twenty-five grand a year to live like he makes forty grand. That guy'll never pay it off but he's gonna have to bust his ass to if he wants a house or kids or a car. One or two is okay to have for an emergency like a flat tire in the middle of nowhere or a trip to the hospital, not new shoes. Really credit cards are legalized loan sharks only instead of breakin' your leg for six to eight weeks they'll take your house, car, and maybe even lead to divorce and the loss of your kids. They should be illegal.
Just ever stressed as I feel like I'm spinnin' my wheels and gettin' no where. Called a couple of attorneys this week too. Needed to see if I got a case against the ex for the money she owes me. So far the answer is no.
In Texas, I'm told, it's a bitch to get people to pay up when they owe you anything, plus I've got no written agreement, and it's unlikely an attorney would do much for me with my $0 to spend on him. This girl screwed me over and she knew what she was doin'.
Things are lookin' rosy for your friendly neighborhood Texas Devil.
So what can you get outta all this mess? A few lessons I hope.
1.) If you lend somebody some money, get it in writin'.
I'll forget 5 or 10 bucks between friends but if I loan you $200, I expect to get it back so you better expect to sign some paperwork. You don't need much just sumthin' that says you loaned Fred $200 and that he's gonna pay you twenty bucks a week for ten weeks or however you wanna get your money back.
2.) It's never too early to save money.
You can get a job at sixteen you should be able to start savin' at sixteen too. Parents don't let your kids touch it til they can handle it. Kids you won't really be able to handle it til your thirty. In the mean time save as much as you can for retirement. You might miss a party here or there but your wrinkley behind is gonna be livin' it up when your kids move out. I know it seems pointless to save money you could be spendin' on Bieber tickets or a new pair video game but when your ass is bein' abused in a nursin' home your gonna be sorry.
3.) Credit cards are evil.
They allow a guy that makes twenty-five grand a year to live like he makes forty grand. That guy'll never pay it off but he's gonna have to bust his ass to if he wants a house or kids or a car. One or two is okay to have for an emergency like a flat tire in the middle of nowhere or a trip to the hospital, not new shoes. Really credit cards are legalized loan sharks only instead of breakin' your leg for six to eight weeks they'll take your house, car, and maybe even lead to divorce and the loss of your kids. They should be illegal.
4.) Never completely trust anybody.
You should always be lookin' for the angles. Always look for what it is people are really wantin' from you. I had a woman I thought I was in love with and I trusted her enough to hand her a credit card and say do what you like. That was foolish. Now I'm payin' for it.
I'm not sayin' never be in a relationship or never trust someone to the extent that they've proven themselves. You can't do everything alone. Your gonna have to trust people here and there but you don't have to include anyone on everything. People are always gonna lie to you and there are always gonna be times when you aren't gonna know it. Most are lil white lies.
"I'm sick, can't come in to work"
"Isn't that band you like in town?"
"What? Nooooo."
Point is he doesn't wanna come in to work, okay find somebody to cover his shift. Not a big deal but you coulda just told the truth on that. People lie all the time. They lie for all different reasons and the reasons usually aren't very good.
Sometimes it's the lie you can't see that's the most devastating. Lemme tell you a story...
Years ago, when I was too young to remember, I had two cousins. Ricky and Jesse. Two young Mexican guys, just average kinda guys that enjoyed a good joke and didn't like school all that much. Like I said I was too young to really get to know 'em. I mighta been one or two.
Well one afternoon these guys get a call from a friend and he says "Hey guy I need a ride." The brothers know this guy and they aren't doin' anything anyway so they go pick him up. Maybe they figure on goin' to a club or sumthin' later. They go pick up the kid and start goin' wherever. I'm sure it's all jokin' and laughin'. "And then this dumbass goes and..." "Remember that time that you..." and so on.
Then the friend gets hungry and says "Hey, let's head over to that Jack in the Box im starvin'." The brothers agree and they go through the drive-through. "Well, hey let's stop and eat in the parking lot. I hate eatin' when your ass is goin' for every pot hole in the road. Get more of my burger on my shirt than in my mouth." Everybody laughs and they pull into a parking spot.
While they're eatin' the boys are distracted and not lookin' for anybody or anything outside the car. So, when knives appear they are anything but ready. One blade slips out and stabs one brother and another from outside the car stabs the other. They get out of the car and try to make it in the restaurant for protection. Before they can a manager has locked the doors to protect his customers. Despite protests from customers inside, he won't open the doors. The two boys fight it as long as they can but eventually bleed to death in the parking lot of a Houston Jack in the Box.
This "friend" of my cousins and his dad set the boys up and stabbed my cousins to death. What was all this over? I couldn't tell you. It's not talked about much anymore. It happened well over twenty years ago.
Everyone lies to you but you better be able to see the why's of it all.
You go around trustin' people too lightly and you could wind up like me or worse yet like my cousins.
Thursday, July 29, 2010
Peacemaker
SB 1070 was supposed to go into effect today. It won't thanks to the government's opposition to it and protesters as well as U.S. District Judge Susan Bolton. Bolton basically handed down her judgement that the law was unconstitutional since it's the federal government's job to enforce immigration and that if the states started doin' it themselves they'd get in the way.
The battle is far from over. There's still this idea in America right now that Latinos and Hispanics are somehow subhuman. Arizona will appeal. Sheriff Joe Arpaio is still roundin' up as many illegals as he can. Governor Jan Brewer still feels as though she was completely right.
I've read a lot of articles that say that we're just being used as a scapegoat. That we're essentially seen as new to this country, which isn't true for a lot of us, so it must be our fault that the economy is goin' to crap. It must be our fault that no one has work. If our borders were more secure we wouldn't have been attacked by terrorists. If that hadn't happened then we wouldn't be at war or have to go through hell at the airports or fear for our lives. We wouldn't have to be afraid of the Muslims. They're all terrorists now, too.
It's all bullshit. The economy is messed up for a dozen different reasons. We're at war over oil. Regardless of how secure the border is, somebody's gonna find a way through. Muslims are just a group of people, only different from you or me by the color of their skin and the God they worship. Should learn 'bout 'em if you get the chance. I don't know much about all those Middle-Eastern and Asian cultures but what I find out I usually find interestin'.
Not all of 'em are terrorists though. The terrorists are fighting America for a variety of reasons and it's not because they hate our freedoms. I was made aware of this by a comedian who said that in Amsterdam you could smoke pot, hire a prostitute, and hold a gay wedding all in the same building but nobody bombs them. (Forgive me if I can't remember the guy, I didn't know who he was at the time and it's been more than a week now so I can't give him credit.)
The point is there are nations more free than the U.S. and they don't have nearly as many enemies. I believe the difference is the arrogance of the U.S. Somehow our culture has always believed that we are right about everything and that everybody else is wrong and if you don't believe in that then you're a traitor to the nation. We go into other nations and tell them what to do and don't listen to anyone else from those other countries. Everybody else loves football, we call it soccer and say it's for sissies. We don't like dictators and killers so we go in take over their country by force, hang 'em, and put somebody in control that we like. We use an American standard form of measurement instead of the metric system everyone else uses. ('Cause hell Bill I already know this one why should I have to learn what they use in France?) It's the same attitude that comes to foreign languages. In Europe, traffic signs are in multiple languages and most everyone knows at least two of them. Here everybody better learn 'emselves some danged ol' American.
These "terrorists" while doing things in an extreme and violent way want a voice in the world and they directly oppose the wrong they feel Americans and the American government does. I don't encourage terrorism by any means. I merely support truth. We feel we were wronged by them they feel wronged by us and that's what starts a war. Wars don't settle those differences they just destroy one side or the other until there is no opposition. If we didn't agree that 2+2=4, you say it's 5 and I say it's 3, and I kill you or you kill me, we are still no closer to the correct answer. The truth is that we have a long way to go to make the world a peaceful place.
We still have a lot of tolerance and understanding that is needed to live with all the people of the world. We need education and independent thinking more than anything. We should stop taking pride in how ignorant we can be. Let's stop making excuses for all the work we don't wanna do to learn science, math, the metric system, or a new language.
There ain't nuthin' that you can know that ain't worth knowin'. No hay una cosa que puedes aprender que no tiene valor. There is nothing that you can know that isn't worth knowing.
http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20100730/ap_on_re_us/us_arizona_immigration
http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/us_arizona_immigration
The battle is far from over. There's still this idea in America right now that Latinos and Hispanics are somehow subhuman. Arizona will appeal. Sheriff Joe Arpaio is still roundin' up as many illegals as he can. Governor Jan Brewer still feels as though she was completely right.
I've read a lot of articles that say that we're just being used as a scapegoat. That we're essentially seen as new to this country, which isn't true for a lot of us, so it must be our fault that the economy is goin' to crap. It must be our fault that no one has work. If our borders were more secure we wouldn't have been attacked by terrorists. If that hadn't happened then we wouldn't be at war or have to go through hell at the airports or fear for our lives. We wouldn't have to be afraid of the Muslims. They're all terrorists now, too.
It's all bullshit. The economy is messed up for a dozen different reasons. We're at war over oil. Regardless of how secure the border is, somebody's gonna find a way through. Muslims are just a group of people, only different from you or me by the color of their skin and the God they worship. Should learn 'bout 'em if you get the chance. I don't know much about all those Middle-Eastern and Asian cultures but what I find out I usually find interestin'.
Not all of 'em are terrorists though. The terrorists are fighting America for a variety of reasons and it's not because they hate our freedoms. I was made aware of this by a comedian who said that in Amsterdam you could smoke pot, hire a prostitute, and hold a gay wedding all in the same building but nobody bombs them. (Forgive me if I can't remember the guy, I didn't know who he was at the time and it's been more than a week now so I can't give him credit.)
The point is there are nations more free than the U.S. and they don't have nearly as many enemies. I believe the difference is the arrogance of the U.S. Somehow our culture has always believed that we are right about everything and that everybody else is wrong and if you don't believe in that then you're a traitor to the nation. We go into other nations and tell them what to do and don't listen to anyone else from those other countries. Everybody else loves football, we call it soccer and say it's for sissies. We don't like dictators and killers so we go in take over their country by force, hang 'em, and put somebody in control that we like. We use an American standard form of measurement instead of the metric system everyone else uses. ('Cause hell Bill I already know this one why should I have to learn what they use in France?) It's the same attitude that comes to foreign languages. In Europe, traffic signs are in multiple languages and most everyone knows at least two of them. Here everybody better learn 'emselves some danged ol' American.
These "terrorists" while doing things in an extreme and violent way want a voice in the world and they directly oppose the wrong they feel Americans and the American government does. I don't encourage terrorism by any means. I merely support truth. We feel we were wronged by them they feel wronged by us and that's what starts a war. Wars don't settle those differences they just destroy one side or the other until there is no opposition. If we didn't agree that 2+2=4, you say it's 5 and I say it's 3, and I kill you or you kill me, we are still no closer to the correct answer. The truth is that we have a long way to go to make the world a peaceful place.
We still have a lot of tolerance and understanding that is needed to live with all the people of the world. We need education and independent thinking more than anything. We should stop taking pride in how ignorant we can be. Let's stop making excuses for all the work we don't wanna do to learn science, math, the metric system, or a new language.
There ain't nuthin' that you can know that ain't worth knowin'. No hay una cosa que puedes aprender que no tiene valor. There is nothing that you can know that isn't worth knowing.
http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20100730/ap_on_re_us/us_arizona_immigration
http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/us_arizona_immigration
Friday, July 23, 2010
The Deaths of Hector Morales
There's a wedding today and unfortunately I've been a lil busy this week so I'm gonna cheat this week. Here's a story I wrote some time ago. Hope you enjoy it.
Congratulations to the couple. Hope you have many, many, happy years together.
The Deaths of Hector Morales
Ever look back on your life and wonder if it was for anything? I think about that sometimes. I wonder to myself if any of the good shit or the bad shit I’ve ever done made a difference to anyone. It doesn’t always seem like it. A guy can do a lot of good for a person and never hear a single “Thank you.” Let him forget one woman’s birthday though. I’ll be damned if he doesn’t hear the end of that. So maybe it matters to someone, somewhere.
It doesn’t matter if it does mean anything but I think some people like to believe it’s all for something bigger. To some folks it’s comforting to think we’re pieces of a puzzle spilled on some big, black, starry night sky and not somebody’s knocked over trash spilling in a gutter. She’s definitely one of those people.
Her name is Alexis. I met her seven years ago. She was just an eleven year old girl then but she’s something else altogether now. She’s always been a little strange, far too hopeful to be born in this world. She never seems to think anyone can do any wrong. “They just do what they’re supposed to do.”, she’s often said to me. She believes in something the rest of us can’t. I don’t care if she is only a hundred and twenty-something pound teenage girl, that faith of hers makes her stronger than most.
My name is Hector Morales. I ain’t her daddy, but I’ve been acting like I am for seven years and she’s been calling me that for just as long. I have no blood relation to the girl who wears the angel wings, but I take care of her. I’m all she has in this world. All she has is a short, scrawny, El Salvadoreño of a thief who’d punch the devil himself out if he tried to lay a hand on her. Did it for her to several others already today, what’s one more? I may just punch out El Diablo just to be able to tell people about it. Prison etiquette does say take out the biggest and baddest first.
Hell, the way I’m shot up now I probably don’t have much of a choice on that. One, two, three, three wonderful holes for leaky red stuff to drip out of ‘A ‘A ‘A. I always liked The Count. I wonder if he’s going to Hell too. I guess if a vampire who teaches kids to count is going to Hell a thuggish thief like myself ain’t got a prayer.
I’m dying and I’ve damned myself. I did it before I knew her but I’ve been trying to make up for it since. Dead criminals all usually go to the same place, whether they want to or not. Now at age thirty-three Mama Morales’ baby boy goes away again, forever. I’ve seen the book, I saw it written. Once something is written in that book it can’t be changed. I guess it’s a law of the universe. It’s also how I came back in the first place. That pissed a lot of people off. If I didn’t these guys have been fighting the wrong guy for seven years. Seven years of fighting both sides and anyone who thinks I’m nuts or a bad father.
These guys who shot me are the real bad guys. Not just because they shot me either. You can see it in their eyes. The flash of red like their murderous intentions can be seen. Kind of reminds me of the red eyes people get in bad pictures. Their eyes don’t stay like that. It comes and goes. The red eyes leave and that somebody forgets what he’s doing. This bunch hasn’t forgotten.
I sit here on this roof top bleeding. She’s fighting them off on her own. No weapons, no lethal moves, all heart. She’s doing well, too. She will tire soon though. The guy with the gun is getting up too. I better get moving, no time to bleed anymore. I’m damned and dying, she’s the only thing worth fighting for.
I hurl myself up and charge the weasel with the pistol. Before he can raise his bleeding arm I give him a right cross. As he goes down I take back my knife. I use the razor sharp blade to shred my opponents. By now we’ve attracted media attention. There’s a helicopter flying overhead with a spotlight shining down on us. The whole world will see my spectacular death. Hi, Mom.
Another knife is pulled by the woman at Alexis’ feet. I’m still twenty yards away. It strikes her dead center in the stomach. With an unnatural speed and strength I reach her as she falls. I pull the knife from my daughter and force it into the hand of her murderer. I’m surrounded by our assailants. “I’m okay.” she says. I believe her without wondering why.
The crowd around us dissipates. One familiar face is seen among them, a man who has hunted us for seven years. The rocker with the red eyes. He’s the one that really scares me. Not because he’s younger and faster than I am. Not because he’s an underground rocker with influence over a lot of people. Not because he carries a big “Dirty Harry” style magnum. Sure those things make him dangerous. But it’s the things that I’ve done to that man and the way he just keeps grinning and taking it.
Click-Clack. Boom!!!
Rock-salt seasons the creature. The pink haired, red-eyed rocker falls. The rock-salt makes his back sizzle before his wounds close back up. “Thanks, Mike, late’s better than never.”
Mike cocks his shotgun and points it at the rest of the crowd, smiling. He’s a happy kid most of the time. Today he’s happy to be doing some good. They screech like ungodliness, like rabbits being turned inside out. They screech and attack the young kid. He blasts again and again. His unholy victims begin to show their true forms, rotting corpses. They are twisted shells of greening meat, yellow eyes with teeth to match, they are only puppets controlled by the songbird. The poor bastards died only to be used as some twisted devil’s pawns. They’re strong. They don’t feel pain. They don’t stop coming unless their master says so.
The red-eyed man draws his pistol. I’m unarmed. Mike is being overrun by the ghouls. Alexis is wounded in my arms. She says she’s not dying and I believe her. She struggles to stand and does. “You will not take him today! Today the world will know of your deception and cast you from its flock.” She speaks but the voice doesn’t belong to her. It’s stronger. The voice carries unimaginable power behind it.
“Girl, I want to know your secret! It’s what I’ve always been after. How do you live here? How is it that you do not have a tell? No marks, no limitations to anything, you live as one of them.” The devil cocks his pistol ready to fire.
“I am one of them! This is my father and I will die protecting him as he will die protecting me! He is what this world has to offer in abundance. You and your kind can never over take them.” Her wound begins to shine. It’s as though a ray of sunlight were spilling out from inside her. She raises her hand and lightning flashes from it striking the corpses smothering Mike. They turn to smoking ashes.
“I want to know, girl. Tell me how you did it! How could you escape your shackles? I want to know!!!” BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! The rocker fires into her before I can do anything about it.
Instead of red, she bleeds light. Her true power is shining through. My baby girl is going to light up the sky. Her skin cracks and shatters. She is made of light. I’m almost blinded by her body as I watch her. She sprouts her wings finally. She’s been wearing fake ones for so long I bet she’s happy to have them. I might not have a camera but I guess I’ll have to ask the guys in the helicopter for a copy of the tape. She’s even got a crowd of cops gathered in the street to watch her dance. Her daddy is so proud of her.
Mr. Red-eye points his pistol at her. She shows him it’s a mistake. He sizzles with the beam of light that strikes him. He’s singed and pissed. His arms flame red and transform his pistol into a sword. He himself shows his true shape. The red-scaled demon roars with it’s claws clutching the sword. She strikes him with another beam of light. It doesn’t hurt him this time. He plunges towards Alexis with his blade. I take mine from the pile of ashes and leap into her light. I drive my blade into the belly of that beast and he drives his into mine. A light between us flashes and we separate in an explosion. We hit the rooftop at the same time. He’s human again with my knife still in him. I have a big gaping hole in my belly.
“You fool! She’s not supposed to be here and you know it. You protect her from us and them. You have no one on your side. It’s hopeless. You’re all damned if you think otherwise.” His eyes glow red and blood streams from his lips as he struggles to stand. He plucks my switchblade from his gut and drops it. Flames burst from his wound and consume him. His body is reduced to ashes fluttering like moths in the wind.
“Well, I’ll be damned.” I say to myself.
Alexis drops down gracefully like a setting sun. She kisses me once on the forehead and whispers, “I’ll see you later, Daddy. We both have places to go now but we will see each other again.”
I don’t doubt her for a second. “I know it, Darlin’. I love you. Take care of yourself.” She begins to cry and I wipe away her tears. My daughter disappears into the evening sky a thousand fireflies taking their place in the stars.
“Mike? Hey, Mike!” I shout.
The young guy under all the ashes slowly comes to. He spits the used-to-be-dead-people from his mouth and hacks on what he’s already swallowed. “Ugh.”
“You still alive, Mike?” I holler.
Mike sits up. “Yeah, are you?”
“Nope, not for long anyway. Sorry to leave you with the mess.”
“Hell, you didn’t really wanna clean up anyway. You two take of each other. I’ll take care of this here.” Mike, the kid with a crush on my eighteen-year-old daughter who’s risked his life time and time again to save me and her, is left alone on this world to pay the price of what we’ve done. He’s a good guy. She thinks he’s handsome too. She’s never said so, but a father can tell.
She’s gone and I’m about to be. He’ll ask himself as the cops bust through that door leading up to this rooftop, “Was all of this was worth it? Was any of this for anything?” I hope he’ll say yes and I hope he’ll understand what it’s all for.
Congratulations to the couple. Hope you have many, many, happy years together.
The Deaths of Hector Morales
Ever look back on your life and wonder if it was for anything? I think about that sometimes. I wonder to myself if any of the good shit or the bad shit I’ve ever done made a difference to anyone. It doesn’t always seem like it. A guy can do a lot of good for a person and never hear a single “Thank you.” Let him forget one woman’s birthday though. I’ll be damned if he doesn’t hear the end of that. So maybe it matters to someone, somewhere.
It doesn’t matter if it does mean anything but I think some people like to believe it’s all for something bigger. To some folks it’s comforting to think we’re pieces of a puzzle spilled on some big, black, starry night sky and not somebody’s knocked over trash spilling in a gutter. She’s definitely one of those people.
Her name is Alexis. I met her seven years ago. She was just an eleven year old girl then but she’s something else altogether now. She’s always been a little strange, far too hopeful to be born in this world. She never seems to think anyone can do any wrong. “They just do what they’re supposed to do.”, she’s often said to me. She believes in something the rest of us can’t. I don’t care if she is only a hundred and twenty-something pound teenage girl, that faith of hers makes her stronger than most.
My name is Hector Morales. I ain’t her daddy, but I’ve been acting like I am for seven years and she’s been calling me that for just as long. I have no blood relation to the girl who wears the angel wings, but I take care of her. I’m all she has in this world. All she has is a short, scrawny, El Salvadoreño of a thief who’d punch the devil himself out if he tried to lay a hand on her. Did it for her to several others already today, what’s one more? I may just punch out El Diablo just to be able to tell people about it. Prison etiquette does say take out the biggest and baddest first.
Hell, the way I’m shot up now I probably don’t have much of a choice on that. One, two, three, three wonderful holes for leaky red stuff to drip out of ‘A ‘A ‘A. I always liked The Count. I wonder if he’s going to Hell too. I guess if a vampire who teaches kids to count is going to Hell a thuggish thief like myself ain’t got a prayer.
I’m dying and I’ve damned myself. I did it before I knew her but I’ve been trying to make up for it since. Dead criminals all usually go to the same place, whether they want to or not. Now at age thirty-three Mama Morales’ baby boy goes away again, forever. I’ve seen the book, I saw it written. Once something is written in that book it can’t be changed. I guess it’s a law of the universe. It’s also how I came back in the first place. That pissed a lot of people off. If I didn’t these guys have been fighting the wrong guy for seven years. Seven years of fighting both sides and anyone who thinks I’m nuts or a bad father.
These guys who shot me are the real bad guys. Not just because they shot me either. You can see it in their eyes. The flash of red like their murderous intentions can be seen. Kind of reminds me of the red eyes people get in bad pictures. Their eyes don’t stay like that. It comes and goes. The red eyes leave and that somebody forgets what he’s doing. This bunch hasn’t forgotten.
I sit here on this roof top bleeding. She’s fighting them off on her own. No weapons, no lethal moves, all heart. She’s doing well, too. She will tire soon though. The guy with the gun is getting up too. I better get moving, no time to bleed anymore. I’m damned and dying, she’s the only thing worth fighting for.
I hurl myself up and charge the weasel with the pistol. Before he can raise his bleeding arm I give him a right cross. As he goes down I take back my knife. I use the razor sharp blade to shred my opponents. By now we’ve attracted media attention. There’s a helicopter flying overhead with a spotlight shining down on us. The whole world will see my spectacular death. Hi, Mom.
Another knife is pulled by the woman at Alexis’ feet. I’m still twenty yards away. It strikes her dead center in the stomach. With an unnatural speed and strength I reach her as she falls. I pull the knife from my daughter and force it into the hand of her murderer. I’m surrounded by our assailants. “I’m okay.” she says. I believe her without wondering why.
The crowd around us dissipates. One familiar face is seen among them, a man who has hunted us for seven years. The rocker with the red eyes. He’s the one that really scares me. Not because he’s younger and faster than I am. Not because he’s an underground rocker with influence over a lot of people. Not because he carries a big “Dirty Harry” style magnum. Sure those things make him dangerous. But it’s the things that I’ve done to that man and the way he just keeps grinning and taking it.
Click-Clack. Boom!!!
Rock-salt seasons the creature. The pink haired, red-eyed rocker falls. The rock-salt makes his back sizzle before his wounds close back up. “Thanks, Mike, late’s better than never.”
Mike cocks his shotgun and points it at the rest of the crowd, smiling. He’s a happy kid most of the time. Today he’s happy to be doing some good. They screech like ungodliness, like rabbits being turned inside out. They screech and attack the young kid. He blasts again and again. His unholy victims begin to show their true forms, rotting corpses. They are twisted shells of greening meat, yellow eyes with teeth to match, they are only puppets controlled by the songbird. The poor bastards died only to be used as some twisted devil’s pawns. They’re strong. They don’t feel pain. They don’t stop coming unless their master says so.
The red-eyed man draws his pistol. I’m unarmed. Mike is being overrun by the ghouls. Alexis is wounded in my arms. She says she’s not dying and I believe her. She struggles to stand and does. “You will not take him today! Today the world will know of your deception and cast you from its flock.” She speaks but the voice doesn’t belong to her. It’s stronger. The voice carries unimaginable power behind it.
“Girl, I want to know your secret! It’s what I’ve always been after. How do you live here? How is it that you do not have a tell? No marks, no limitations to anything, you live as one of them.” The devil cocks his pistol ready to fire.
“I am one of them! This is my father and I will die protecting him as he will die protecting me! He is what this world has to offer in abundance. You and your kind can never over take them.” Her wound begins to shine. It’s as though a ray of sunlight were spilling out from inside her. She raises her hand and lightning flashes from it striking the corpses smothering Mike. They turn to smoking ashes.
“I want to know, girl. Tell me how you did it! How could you escape your shackles? I want to know!!!” BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! The rocker fires into her before I can do anything about it.
Instead of red, she bleeds light. Her true power is shining through. My baby girl is going to light up the sky. Her skin cracks and shatters. She is made of light. I’m almost blinded by her body as I watch her. She sprouts her wings finally. She’s been wearing fake ones for so long I bet she’s happy to have them. I might not have a camera but I guess I’ll have to ask the guys in the helicopter for a copy of the tape. She’s even got a crowd of cops gathered in the street to watch her dance. Her daddy is so proud of her.
Mr. Red-eye points his pistol at her. She shows him it’s a mistake. He sizzles with the beam of light that strikes him. He’s singed and pissed. His arms flame red and transform his pistol into a sword. He himself shows his true shape. The red-scaled demon roars with it’s claws clutching the sword. She strikes him with another beam of light. It doesn’t hurt him this time. He plunges towards Alexis with his blade. I take mine from the pile of ashes and leap into her light. I drive my blade into the belly of that beast and he drives his into mine. A light between us flashes and we separate in an explosion. We hit the rooftop at the same time. He’s human again with my knife still in him. I have a big gaping hole in my belly.
“You fool! She’s not supposed to be here and you know it. You protect her from us and them. You have no one on your side. It’s hopeless. You’re all damned if you think otherwise.” His eyes glow red and blood streams from his lips as he struggles to stand. He plucks my switchblade from his gut and drops it. Flames burst from his wound and consume him. His body is reduced to ashes fluttering like moths in the wind.
“Well, I’ll be damned.” I say to myself.
Alexis drops down gracefully like a setting sun. She kisses me once on the forehead and whispers, “I’ll see you later, Daddy. We both have places to go now but we will see each other again.”
I don’t doubt her for a second. “I know it, Darlin’. I love you. Take care of yourself.” She begins to cry and I wipe away her tears. My daughter disappears into the evening sky a thousand fireflies taking their place in the stars.
“Mike? Hey, Mike!” I shout.
The young guy under all the ashes slowly comes to. He spits the used-to-be-dead-people from his mouth and hacks on what he’s already swallowed. “Ugh.”
“You still alive, Mike?” I holler.
Mike sits up. “Yeah, are you?”
“Nope, not for long anyway. Sorry to leave you with the mess.”
“Hell, you didn’t really wanna clean up anyway. You two take of each other. I’ll take care of this here.” Mike, the kid with a crush on my eighteen-year-old daughter who’s risked his life time and time again to save me and her, is left alone on this world to pay the price of what we’ve done. He’s a good guy. She thinks he’s handsome too. She’s never said so, but a father can tell.
She’s gone and I’m about to be. He’ll ask himself as the cops bust through that door leading up to this rooftop, “Was all of this was worth it? Was any of this for anything?” I hope he’ll say yes and I hope he’ll understand what it’s all for.
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