Wednesday, November 30, 2005

A Month of Madness

Ah, the Yuletide season! That month of madness that turns otherwise normal human beings into rude, uptight, conniving, desperate shoppers who will go to any length to get their grubby fingers on the latest, most popular, scarce, or expensive gift for their loved ones, or even for people they don't particularly like. So, tell me, have you been one of those people who que up in front of Walmart or some MegaMonster outlet, or some hoity-toity Department store, waiting amongst the hundreds of hungry shoppers for the door to open, after which the pushing and shoving, falling and getting trampled underfoot will commence? If you have, please, please tell me.......

WTF were you THINKING?

Now really, you must realize by now that alot of us out here watch this madness on the evening news and shake our heads in amazement. There is a whole month in this season, which is getting longer every year, for you to thoughtfully go out and find gifts that might actually mean something other than "Aren't I special, I spent alot of money on you buying this gift, don't you just love me?" OK, so in the spirit of the season you threw money at somebody rather than making the effort to craft something with your own hands and imaginations, or you thought that your kids would be irreparably harmed if you didn't get them that X-Box 360 or that model monster truck for them. The marketing people really love you guys, they really do. A holiday that was hijacked by the christians to celebrate the birth of a really cool dude which has since morphed into an excuse to go into debt in this shallow, guilt ridden capitalist free-for-all has strayed so far from it's origins it bears no resemblance to a time of year many of us older folks used to remember with fondness. Instead, it's that time of year that more and more are beginning to dread and can't wait for to be over with.

Even the venerable christmas tree is fast becoming a laughable imitation of it's former glory. We used to all head out to the woods to chop down some unfortunate cone shaped tree that happened to have grown to the right proportion at the wrong time. Now, we have these plastic, metal, prewired with lights that rotate and blink contraptions that are a pain to set up and impossible to get back into the box. And lets not overlook the light shows we compete with our neighbors with. They say that this year's heating bills are going to cause people to go into convulsions when they open them, but still I bet you the whole North American Continent will be visible from mars on a clear night once all these light shows on our lawns and houses get lit up. Think the cost of all that electricity doesn't add up? But at least we'll have that 5000 watt santa and reindeer display on the roof to lend us comfort on these cold nights.

Yes, I knew undertaking this spin on the holidays would rankle many of you, who truly enjoy this time of year. I just hope you are enjoying it for the right reasons, either for it's religious underpinnings, or for the gatherings of family and friends in the spirit of SHARING, not just spending. Jesus, if he actually had stuck around in spirit, would have long disowned this supposed celebration of his birth, which wasn't even on the day we celebrate it, and I'm sure he would have had a few things to say on this Santa character honing in on his party. And Santa? He's up there at the North Pole wallowing in self pity having been turned into a corporate shill for the likes of Walmart and Macy's, his reindeer long having been turned into sausage, their jobs having been taken over by FedEX and UPS. The elves? They are being retrained to take customer service calls for Dell, Hewlett Puckered, and LL Bean. The post office no longer delivers letters from boys and girls, as e-mail has become the plea medium of choice, now being routed to subcontractors to answer, said contractors being the very people who clog up your mailboxes with spam.

So yes, I am the big evil grinch raining on your Christmas parade. I'm the incredulous one watching you guys punch each other out or trample little old ladies in your mad rush to nab that cheap laptop computer, on sale while supplies last. I'm the one who is grateful the wife spent all year picking up unique little items for presents so that we don't have to skip the mortgage or car payments in order not to appear cheap (which we are, living from paycheck to paycheck). I'm the one who believes that even children are having a hard time appreciating christmas the way we did in years past, since these days they can get their video games and skateboards any day of the year if they nag their parents enough. I'm the one who dreads getting in my car, knowing I'll have to crawl thru traffic jams created by the festive atmosphere to get anywhere, even just the grocery store. I'm the one who has had his fill of the whole damn fiasco and if this offends you, then rush out and do some more shopping, I'm sure it will make you feel better.

Monday, November 28, 2005

Rant #87

I was watching this thing on the news about how desperate couples are to have children, even going so far as to buy unused fertility drugs from others on the internet. The featured couple had blown $28,000 on these treatments, maxing out their credit cards and taking out a second mortgage. Now really. Is it just me or is there something a mite bit over the top with this mindless need to procreate?

This planet is bulging at the seams, so crowded with humans it is on the brink of collapsing under the weight of so much humanity. With increasing numbers and the effects of a polluted environment on fertility, it's no wonder there are quite a number of couples who share at least one member who is not up to snuff in the sperm or egg department. Yet we are overwhelmed with unplanned and unwanted pregnancies, or children thrown to the wolves of the child welfare system due to the meltdown of families left and right. On one hand, we have infertile couples desperate to "complete themselves" by having children, while on the other, we have people desperate to get rid of them.

That's another thing I despise religion for. The tenants of most of them encourage rampant childbearing, albeit that we not enjoy the process of doing so. This is truly a selfish and reckless mindset that takes no heed of the reality that this planet is finite in it's resources and room. Of course, since HAY-ZEUS is coming on down to lay waste to Sodom and cart off all these billions of souls to live on fluffy clouds for all eternity, we need not worry about overpopulation and the hell it can make of life on Earth. Yea, right. We could solve alot of our problems if these millions of people lusting after afterlife would just go ahead and go there, leaving the rest of us with at least SOME common sense to enjoy the lives we DO have.

So, I propose this; that those who are naturally childless yet feel there is such a hole in their being they MUST have children, then adopt. When you refuse to consider such an option, you pay these poor children the ultimate disrespect by telling them they are not good enough to fill that hole that haunts you so. You tell them you would rather bankrupt yourself attempting to have a child begat of your own genes than bring them to your dinner table and love them like your own. You tell them they are worthless.

I do not have a maternal bone in my body, yet I love my wife's twin daughters as though they were my own. They will not continue MY genetic line, but guess what? I don't give a shit! Really! People who have or want to have kids look at me like I'm some kind of monster when I share my total lack of enthusiasm for the "joys" of parenthood or passing on my genes to the next generation. I was lucky by virtue that my step kids were grown up by the time I entered the picture, yet they treat me more as their Dad than the one who knocked up their Mother. Being a parent has alot more to do with what's in your heart than what's between your legs.

So, before any one of you who are striving to have children thru artificial means dare to suggest that I just don't get it, let me suggest to you that it's YOU who have to examine your motivations concerning childbearing. There are thousands of children rotting away in less than ideal foster situations, or worse, that are hoping that maybe you will too.

A Little Ado about Nothing........Part II (The Sequal)

It's a very gray day here at sandy acre. The change in the weather with it's much need rain has plagued my sinuses all day, the pain and pressure held at bay by regular doses of generic sinus meds. So my day has been spent doing domestic things, surfing the net, listening to that evil left-wing NPR, drinking coffee, and smoking cigarettes. So what in Bob's name am I doing posting it truly blog-worthy? Well, something did strike me.......

I was replying to a comment, trying to make out that obligatory code word for verification we use to keep out the spam, and it occurred to me that if a million chimpanzees sitting at a million typewriters typed for a million years, producing the complete works of Shakespeare, or the new testament (boy, that one would be a piece of cake for a chimpanzee), then it stands to reason that sooner or later this word generator would start creating an entirely new language. Look at these letters we are forced to type in and tell me you haven't seen a combination that makes up a passable word on occasion. So, being the champion of making up something out of nothing, I decided to start a new contest.

Now, you have to be honest about this. No making shit up. All this week, as you reply to blogs, look at the verification code letters before you type them in and see if they could actually be pronounced as a word. If so, then write them down and save them for next Sunday, then submit them as a comment to the contest post I will put online that day. The one that comes up with the most believable "words" generated all this week of blogging and commenting, gets to have a new language named after them. So, after enough of these contests, we should have enough words saved up to assign them meanings and create the first official blogger language! Imagine, speaking to each other in Shandesh! Imagine what a Michaelism might sound like! Or, if you really want to get wild......."Hey, Amigo, you speak Buffaleas?" The possibilities are hilarious! Just remember, however, a WORKING language has to come first; the vulgarities will have to evolve later.

This is what happens when a blogger is stuck home on a rainy day with nothing else to do. Einstein came up with relativity. Edison the light bulb. THE Michael........well, it's THE Michael, what do you expect?

A Little Ado about Nothing........

Boy am I in a funk. The posts have been few and far between due to the holidays, but I understand that we have been running around like turkeys with our heads cut off doing this Thanksgiving thing, so I just have to suck it up and wait for things to get back to normal. Those brave few who have managed to get in a few posts, I raise my coffee cup in a toast to you!
Being off today I was going to report on the innocent little Wiccan spell that shook the very foundations of our revenue system, but until I get a sense that anybody is back on board reading these things, I'll hold off. No sense wasting a good story.
Sorry that you are stuck at home with the flu, Shandi dear. It hasn't got me yet, but it will, since I'm allergic to needles and never get that flue shot. Last time I braved a flu shot, I ended up getting the OTHER flu that swept thru the country from Australia. When I hear the first reports of bird flu in the news, I'm heading to the supermarket to blow my checking account on food, then I'm going into lockdown to ride it out. Well, it sounds good on paper at least..........
So what have I got for all you loyal readers of MM&M today? You just read it, gang, that's it, in toto. Well, I might be hit with a stroke of inspiration later today, and post appropriately, but short of that, this is it. Until then, may you all seriously consider whether spending all that money is really going to make your Christmas merrier. I know it will certainly put all those retailers into the holiday spirit.

Friday, November 25, 2005

My Finest Hour.......

Like another one of our compadre's mentioned, there really HAS been a dearth of posts during the holidays. Boy, you'd think they all had better things to do such as pig out on turkey and dressing, visit family, etc, then to waste time sitting in front of their computers and posting like good bloggers should! I suppose they neglected to read the fine print buried deep in the back of the agreement that stipulated that if they failed to post something within 48 hours, hellfire and damnation would rain down upon all mankind. Well, I for one have been busy blogging my little fingers off trying to make up for those lazy posters, putting in long hours on this keyboard in a gallant attempt to load up the servers at Blogger just enough to fool them into thinking everybody has been fulfilling their commitments according to contract. I may lose precious sleep and suffer carpel tunnel syndrome, but at least I will have the satisfaction of knowing I saved the lives of millions of people, including my blogging buddies who were to busy having holiday fun rather than caring about their fellow human beings.
Now that I have sufficiently canonized myself, I would like to make it clear that this was an entirely selfless effort on my part, and that I do not expect sympathy OR gratitude for saving our collective asses. Just knowing what a caring and industrious human being I am is quite enough to warm the cockles of my heart. I was hoping, of course, that I would be able to demonstrate my Rambo-esque ability to single handedly ward off the barbarians at the gate using only my wits and a multifunction, multi-barreled automatic weapon with one of those inexhaustible clips of ammo, complete with armor piercing shells and grenades that cause much more damage than is really possible, but NOOOOOO, I had to do it all with nothing more than my trusty Imac G-5, with only one, count it, one gigabyte of onboard RAM at my disposal. If I had to attempt this with dial-up, you'd all be wearing wings and strumming harps right now. Thank BOB for DSL! And of course, we should all be grateful that I didn't have to use Windows, for we surely would have had our gooses cooked when it decided to crash, or a virus snuck in and wiped out all my heroic efforts!
One thing I really appreciate about writing something like this is that those of you who know me might have fell on the floor laughing rather than wonder how people like me get on the net (aren't there safeguards in place to prevent things like this?)
I will, however, feel sorry for any newby who wandered in here not knowing what to expect and honestly thinking I meant anything I said up ^ there. Well, I hope you enjoyed this sneak edition of MM&M, and that you seriously understand that yes, we all miss you when you miss a post. You could be lying in a ditch somewhere bleeding to death for all we know. And that would be a BAD thing.

The Battle of Thanksgiving

It's the day after Thanksgiving and all is well, except that the wife had to go into work at some ungodly early hour to prepare her store for the horde of shoppers looking for bargains at their charity sale. Didn't I just mention something about unbridled consumption? The good twin, her hubby and the kid are sleeping in and I'm out here writing a post.

We actually had Thanksgiving dinner a day early, the previous evening, as soon as the good twin arrived, and boy was it a culinary experience! Baring any other reason, I would keep my wife simply to let her out of the dungeon once a year to cook this meal, it's THAT good! Luckily, I have plenty of other reasons to keep her and besides, Floridians can't have basements, much less dungeons. Something to do with the water table or sand or something.

Of course, the wild turkeys outside the perimeter were completely thrown off, getting their rest for the next day's planned assault, only to find out the festivities had already occurred. While they probed the defenses, we enjoyed the Tom Cruise movie "War of the Worlds", which I must say was an incredibly intense experience! When you are expecting them to somehow screw up a remake, seeing it come out even better in many respects is a surprising pleasure.

So, yesterday, we slipped out of the compound and drove down to St. Augustine and walked around the old town, window shopping mostly, as most of the businesses were closed for the holiday, but this is the day they light up the town with those tiny lights, which by nightfall gave the whole place an interesting flavor. And, we decided to take the ghost tour, hearing some very fascinating stories of all the ghosts people have encountered in this, the oldest city in North America. Considering all the madness and mayhem that occurred in this place over several hundred years of history, it's no wonder the place is saturated with spirits! Not that yours truly caught a glimpse of anything ethereal.

So my friends, this is just one example of the American Thanksgiving experience, pretty much the same as everyone else's, except that once again THE Michael pulled one over on the insurgent turkey population, because, damn it, I don't care about the circumstances that got us involved in this conflict, but I'm damned well determined to FINISH it, one wishbone at a time, until we can celebrate this holiday in peace. And, unlike a certain dickweed we all know and love, I can't be impeached!

Thursday, November 24, 2005

Consumption Junction, What's our Function......

Ladies and Gentlemen, it's DOWNER time, brought to you by the good folks at MM&M, purveyors of the finer points of contemplation the world over. As you all should know by now, THE Michael is not one to allow you to blithely live your lives as though all was well and good, and that's the toll his readers pay to enjoy the words of wisdom and/or utter lunacy that graces the pages of this, the premiere blog of all blogs. (If you find any difficulty accepting these proclamations, please feel free to blame the lobotomy, as it's not the cure-all it's cut out to be) and (believe it or not, that pun was not premeditated, but I will take full credit for it nonetheless).
The concept which I am about to inflict you with now, my dear and loyal readers, is that of CONSUMPTION, and it's fellow association, CONSUMERS. Stay with me now, this may take awhile, but there's a point to be made, eventually.
We all at one point or another, if the old neurons are firing in the right order, ask ourselves or anyone who might have some idea, just what our purpose here on Earth might be. You can settle for "Eat, shit, and be merry", or, if you have a few minutes to blow, might go for "Cure cancer and end hunger as we know it". The question has been asked for eons with various levels of seriousness, but it has yet to be answered to any real satisfaction, unless of course you are willing just to take Douglas Adam's word for it that the answer is simply 42. All that being said, and I apologize profusely for having had to say it, why don't we just answer that question by what Mankind has already done for thousands of years and will continue to do until we finally put ourselves and our planet out of our collective miseries? Have you guessed what I'm getting at yet? NO? OK, then, here comes, ready or not.
CONSUMPTION. That's it. Period. End of discussion. THE answer. That's what it all amounts to. Nothing deeper than that.
The masses have been labeled in all sorts of ways thru the ages. Hunter/Gatherers, minions, peasants, crowds, mobs, workers, you name it, we've had a catch phrase. The Communists decided it would please the average joe to no end to be referred to, and catered to, as "The Workers", although in practice it didn't really play out that way all too well. When that idea of paradise didn't pan out and Capitalism finally came out on top as the way things work in a perfect world, we adopted a new moniker, "Consumers". Now tell me, what term in the history of mankind has ever been so appropriate? Consumers......indeed......what does this one species, set apart from all others, do better than any other?
We CONSUME, and we do it WELL! Now, in the grand scheme of this closed system which is the planet Earth, there is one truth that has always held sway and made this tiny rock spinning thru the cosmos one of those rare oasis's of life, and that is BALANCE. All things within this ecosystem taketh and giveth back, in one form or another. Animals breath O2 and produce CO2. Plants breath CO2 and produce O2. Plant eaters eat plants, and are eaten by predators, who although fewer in numbers, control the more prolific prey, keeping everything in balance. Even predators at the top of the food chain don't exactly get carte blanche, giving back to the system with their rotting carcasses. Each and every animal, plant, organism, in one way or another occupies a niche that forms a symbiotic chain which, when broken, echos thru the entire system in a negative fashion until nature somehow takes up the slack and returns everything to balance. So where do WE fit into all this?
As a singular pox on all the land, we do nothing but CONSUME, giving NOTHING back to the system. We spoil our own nest with our pollution, our trash, our reproductive rate, our prolific use of poisons and other horrors in our never ending efforts to subjugate our environment. We build, we pave, we strip mine, we deforest, we burn, we slash, and we build a Walmart every three miles. We continually extract natural resources with no clear effort to replenish anything or find alternatives that are less destructive. We have pumped humongous amounts of greenhouse gases into the atmosphere and dumped huge amounts of mercury and other toxins into the oceans, and now we find the planet heating up and are finding fewer and fewer fish in the ocean that we have tried our damnedest to turn into one big sewer. And now our cousins down south in South America have slashed and burned in true capitalist fashion the very lungs of our planet, the rainforest, the last great cleaner and producer of breathable air the entire planet has relied on to sustain life.
Yes, my friends, wether or not you want to accept it or not, our purpose in life as demonstrated by action, and not philosophy, is simply to consume, nothing more, nothing less. Oh, yes, we write great poetry and plays, sculpt fine sculptures, build great metropolis's, make love, and create all manner of uplifting music, but it's all a sideshow to what we have taken our intellect and done with it. We have in essence taken all these thousands of years to craft ourselves the finest tomb a species ever built for itself. All the dinosaurs had to leave behind were their bones. We'll have New York City. Oh, that, and Walmarts. Lots and lots of Walmarts.

Wednesday, November 23, 2005

Ten Years and Counting

Yesterday I was returned to full duty and resumed my place on the floor doing the the voodoo that I do so well. What a pleasure to get back to doing what I'm best at! And it was a good day, too, getting to interact with patients again, one asking where I'd been, I was missed, two more asking me how I could zip back and forth all day like that....hehe...."superpowers, M'aam, superpowers!"
Of course my legs were hurting by the last hour of the shift, but hell, I'm used to that. Just my poor old body telling me it got used, and boy did I use it! Oh, and I got handed my ten year award, which consisted of an attaboy from the Prez, (you, know, those form congrats where they fill in the name), incased in genuine lucite, no less, and my pick from an exciting assortment of prizes from the ten year service list. I went for the 52 piece dinnerware set. Sure LOOKED nice. And here I was thinking with ten you get eggroll.......
This will be the longest I have ever survived one place of employment. How I got this far only Bob knows. Not that I've actually GOTTEN anywhere with this job, it being somewhat pretty low on the food chain, but hey, it almost pays the bills. The daunting realization is that I have to get thru another 15 years at least before what's left of Social Security kicks in, and even then I will probably have to don a blue vest for Walmart at minimum wage and act as though I actually give a shit that all those wonderful people are coming in to enjoy their low, low prices. Ah, fond dreams of retirement, American Style. Well, who knows, maybe the Church of Bob will have garnered such a huge following that I'll have to graciously accept the role Church Elder of the Enlightened and take my 10% cut. Boy, a guy could do some sweet living on THAT kind of mohlah! I just hope Bob has as much a sense of humor as I think he does.....hehe.
Well, one twin daughter is home and the other is on the way for Thanksgiving. I don't know why we're celebrating this holiday exactly, what with the Wife's Wiccan ways and all, but it's not exactly a religious holiday, which has that going for it, but knowing her, she's probably got some Wiccan alternative celebration in mind. Long as there's turkey, I have no problems with it. Provided, of course, that the Turkey Liberation Army doesn't make it past the minefield this year.
Oh, and speaking of Wicca, and magic, and stuff, something happened I'm dying to tell you guys about that Rod Serling would be proud to have written for the Twilight Zone. That will be in my next post, unless it gets put off due to A; Extinction event, B; The wife catches my Imac on fire like she did her pants (another post altogether), or C; a suicide turkey makes it thru the perimeter stuffed with C5.
Till then, I am wishing all of you guys a happy Thanksgiving, even you, Buffalo old buddy, even though you seemed to be rooting for the turkeys, you SOB.

Blessed Be.

Sunday, November 20, 2005

Holidays in a Brave New World

It was November, approaching Thanksgiving, and I was preparing the perimeter for the annual assault on our compound by vengeful turkeys, out to avenge their slaughtered brethren. I was careful to ensure that I scrambled the landmine pattern from what it had been last year, having learned the hard way that wild turkeys, unlike their captive comrades, were extremely intelligent creatures and could map a minefield based on last years experience. We lost Grandpa that year, and his death was horrible, having been caught without his shotgun as he made his way to the outhouse.
We really looked forward to eating that 27 pound beauty we had managed to get through the front lines, along with the mashed potatoes, yams, and stuffing. The yams rarely put up much of a fight this time of year, being somewhat sluggish from the lower temperatures. We hoped the extra sound proofing we'd installed for this years festivities would muffle the gobble-gobbles of outrage that usually accompanied our Thanksgiving feast. Turkeys are such pathetic losers. If God had meant them not to be eaten, he would have equipped them better to defend themselves, instead of with those lame crossbows that they had learned to use recently.
As I randomly dug the holes to place the mines, I was already thinking about Christmas, about the strike the elves had called on Santa up at the North Pole since he sold out to Walmart. Somehow, Walmart had talked the Navy into smuggling scabs under the polar icecap, and those scumbag chimpanzees they had genetically altered to work in the toy factory were putting out the garbage left and right, promising low, low prices for strapped parents everywhere, thus insuring more and more poor children something resembling a Christmas. The elves were not taking this laying down, though, no siree! With some SAM missiles they had gotten on the black market, they had already scored some pretty scary near misses on Santa's new Airbus Goliath freight jet, especially adapted to fire bags of toys down chimneys as it swept back and forth over the land at near supersonic speeds. I knew it was only a matter of time before the administration labeled those freaky little terrorists for what they were, and send troops into Canada to take out their little asses.
Halloween had already proven to be a horror as trick or treaters had begun to take the idea of tricks to a whole new level, what with the breakdown in social order caused by overworked parents. More than one house had gotten an RPG thru the front door for not answering the doorbell promptly enough. And the kids were no longer satisfied with the old fare of candy and fruit. If you didn't cough up some impressive BLING, you might get your wife or daughter dragged away into the night until you got into the spirit of halloween giving. The real witches, though, who had brazenly come out of the closet recently, rarely were given any shit, for the voodoo they could do your butt wasn't in the least bit funny. Some were even demanding a percentage of the neighborhood take in return for not increasing the local toad population. All in all Halloween remained a vibrant and exciting time of year.
Back to the matter of the turkeys, I could detect a few glints of reflected sunlight off the binoculars those turkeys were using in the safety of the surrounding woods, reconnoitering the property for their evening assault. Good luck, assholes, you know we humans don't mind a few extra pounds of giblets to go with Thanksgiving dinner!

Saturday, November 19, 2005

The Magic Forest

OK, it's been awhile since a story appeared on the pages of MM&M. I had taken my attempts at racy fiction over to that "other" blog, but with few comments and no hit counter, nothing assures me that those stories were read by very many people, so I decided to dare to bring a little spice back to the pages of this, my "regular" blog. I figured if Shandi and Teri can get somewhat racy on their own dime, then dammit, so can I. I will preface this introduction with the standard warning that yes, this story takes a hard turn into HOT and KINKY somewhere in the middle, so if you have no interest in this sort of thing, feel free to bypass this post altogether. You have been warned. But hell, who knows, you might actually enjoy it. I know a few of you guys out there certainly will.....hehe.

I was returning to the small town I was raised in after a good fifteen year absence. Back then, in 1990, I was a 13 year old with parents on the verge of a divorce, and the best memory I had of that period was the adventures I had in the woods with my best buddy, a girl one year my senior, who could play cowboys and indians, or pagan warriors fighting dragons, with the best of any boy I had known. We had practically grew up together, and we had yet to exit that innocent time in our lives when we would begin to notice the real difference between boys and girls. My parents had decided to divorce, and my Mom got custody, taking me away from the town I had grew up in, taking me away from my Father, my best friend Samantha, my school, my life as I knew it, and I never got over the bitterness of it. She had moved across the country to the west coast and there I began a new life, eventually losing contact with Sam as the letters got fewer and further between. Now, fifteen years later, I was a 28 year old man returning to his roots after a fast and furious youth that had taken me many places, all found wanting in comparison to the memories I still had of my hometown.
I had worked for a newspaper out west, got tired of the fast pace of living in the big city, and decided I needed the decompression that only a small town could afford me. I had inquired and with incredible luck managed to land a job as an editor the the town's newspaper. Unfortunately, shortly before I was to return, I received news of my Father's death due to a freak accident at the local cement plant where he had worked all his life. It was a bittersweet return as I arrived to tend to my Father's personal affairs, his funeral, and start my new job, and my new life.
I pulled into the driveway of the old house and was greeted by Mrs Ottermyer, who had been a close friend of my Dad's since not long after his divorce from my mother. They had grown close but neither one of them had gotten involved to the point that the town had recognized them as an item, for it took a long time for my Father to get over the divorce, and the lady had simply been there as a friend, always there for him when he needed a shoulder to cry on or someone to have dinner with when he grew lonely. I have no doubt they would have married eventually, for the woman had the patience of job, and truly cared for my Dad, and was even more devastated by his death than I was. I stepped out of the car and she ran over to embrace me, sobbing on my shoulder. I felt so sorry for her it drew a tear from me I hadn't gotten around to crying on my own.
She led me into the house, which she had spent all week cleaning from top to bottom, knowing I would be coming home and wanting to make the house welcome for my return. She had also helped with the funeral preparations, talking to me on the phone while I was still back west, asking my approval for whatever had to be done. I was so glad that my Dad had known such a fine woman, for she was indispensable now at this painful and awkward moment.
We were sitting in the kitchen, sipping on coffee and talking up the old days when suddenly she lit up like some light-bulb and asked me, "Jason, I almost forgot, but do you remember that young girl that you used to play with all the time when you were home? Well, you know, she still lives here in town, and as a matter of fact she is happens to own that bookstore that old Mr. Groble used to run! I bet she would just LOVE to see you again!"
Despite everything I had to think about, I HAD been thinking of the possibility of running into Samantha again, but it was an incredible stroke of luck to discover that she still lived here, instead of eventually fleeing the slow pace of small town life that most young people tended to do. I thanked Mrs Ottermyer profusely, and left her smiling in the kitchen as I dashed out the door and into the car to drive into town and seek her out.
Main street appeared to look pretty much the same as when I last rode my bicycle down it, and I had no problem finding "The Book Nook", the old bookstore that had the good fortune not to have a chain store in the area close enough to force it to go out of business. I found a parking spot right in front of the store and entered, which although updated for the times still had that comfortable small business flavor to it so rare in this days of Walmart and Barnes and Noble.
And there she was. The beautiful young woman with the long, dark red hair, and the perky elfin face I once knew as a young tomboy. Only this was no tomboy, no indeed, for she filled out that jean skirt and form fitting top as only a slender, well built woman could. The bell over the door betrayed my entrance, and she glanced up from a book she was reading at the counter, staring at me with a confused look of someone trying to place where they'd seen someone before. "Hello, Sam, it's been awhile since we fought dragons out at Celtic Alter in the Magic Forrest, hasn't it?"
Suddenly the blank look was replaced with a furiously joyful recognition and she screamed, running from behind the counter and leaping into my arms, almost knocking my backwards into a pile of best sellers. "Jason, Oh my god, Jason, you've come home, oh my god I was thinking I'd never see you again!!" She embraced me so hard I almost lost my breath and I hugged her back with equal zeal, swinging her around off her feet, so happy for the moment of reunion. Then she tore herself from my grasp and held me back at arms length, staring me in the face. "Good grief, Jason, you have grown into one hell of a hunk! I'd do you, I sure as hell would! Please, tell me you didn't bring a wife and three kids with you, please, please?!"
I laughed and placed my hands on her shoulders. "Nah, Sam, never really had the time or inclination to settle down or create a bunch of rug rats. Wow, look at you, you really filled out yourself! Nice tits, if you don't mind the compliment!"
She blushed and kept her eyes locked on mine. I could tell my revelation of being single was a welcome admission, but then suddenly the smile drained from her face and she placed her hand on my cheek, softly saying, "Oh, Jason, I heard about your Dad and I'm so sorry for you. Is that the only reason you're back? Will you be leaving after the funeral? I know it sounds selfish but I hope that's not the case. I really did miss you, you know. You were the best friend I ever had, and it's so great to see you again."
" Well, yea, I'm here for the funeral of course, but I was planning to move back here anyway, if you can believe that. Life in the big city isn't all it's cut out to be, and I needed to come back for my sanity if nothing else. But finding that you're still here makes me think I was fated to come back here all along. Remember that paper mache dragon we made right before I had to leave? Whatever happened to that thing? Oh, those were magic days, weren't they?"
Oh my god, Jason, I can't believe you remember that thing! Believe it or not, I rescued that it from your garage right after you left and your Dad was none the wiser! Matter of fact, I still have it in the back of the store here! It's a little dusty, but it's none the worse for wear. Want to see it?"
"Hell yah! Lead the way, dear lady!" She giggled and led me by my hand around the counter and into the back of the store where the store room was, turning to assure a customer that had just come in that she'd only be a moment. As we entered the dark and dusty room she switched on a light and pointed towards a corner and there it was, a huge statue about four and a half feet tall of a dragon, painted in vivid colors and highly detailed, from it's scales to it's gleaming eyes, complete with a long tail and spikes running along it's back. We had planned to use it as a prop for one of our fantasy adventures involving a Celtic warrior saving some innocent damsel from distress out in the woods near an old granite rock that had been chiseled by some old unknown artist to resemble some pagan place of worship, or so we had guessed. There was even a large flat rock nearby that could very well have served as an alter for some druid ceremonies, or at least in the wild imaginations of adventurous kids.
"Wow, " I exclaimed as I stared at the dragon, "that really brings back memories. We sure exercised our imaginations, didn't we? Most kids were stuck in the house with video games, but not us. We made up our own adventures, and I remember them being as good as anything nintendo could have come up with."
"Well, tell you what, Jason, I have to take care of customers, but I close up the store around six, so why don't you come back here then and pick me up and we'll catch up, O.K.? It is soooo good to see you again. I'm gonna make sure you never regret coming home!"
I smiled and kissed her on the forehead and headed for the door, promising her I'd return later, and left her to run her business. I left that store feeling so much better than I was during the long drive from California. I headed back to the house to unpack and change before heading over to the newspaper to check in with the owner. The guy that had hired me welcomed me to town and told me there would be no problem taking another week to take care of my personals and get settled in. I thanked him and grabbed a quick lunch at the local mainstreet diner where I had eaten cheeseburgers as a kid, then headed to the funeral home to settle with the proprietor there. The service would be held in three days, after which my father would be cremated, as per his wishes.
I had absentmindedly put on a chain with a pendant that I had been in a habit of wearing when I was headed out on the town back in California, and it was Sam who drew my attention back to it when I entered the store and she flipped the "closed" sign on the door behind me. "Jason, that symbol on your chain, I've seen that before. Do YOU know what it means?"
"I glanced down and grimaced, for if I'd been thinking about what I was doing I'd never have put it on in THIS town. I glanced back up at her and the expression on her face was one of mirth and challenge. "You mean you DO?" I asked her, acting innocent and failing miserably. "Yes, Jason, I know exactly what it means, and my question remains, do you know what that symbol represents?"
"Well, yes, I do, and I'm kinda surprised you do, out here in middle America. So tell me, what's it stand for?"
"She stared into my eyes and calmly said, "It is the universal symbol for Safe, Sane, and Consensual, the tenants of the BDSM lifestyle, and yes, we have internet access out here in the middle of nowhere, so we backwards people find things out if we want to..." She laughed and took the pendent in her fingers, examining it. "Fancy seeing YOU wearing something like this, my kinky friend. So tell me, have you got some whips and cuffs and other toys in that suitcase of yours? Imagine the games you and me could play with THAT!"
I stared at her, somewhat in shock, not believing what I was hearing. Yes, I had gotten involved in the D/s lifestyle out in California, not so deeply that I ever got around to having a serious relationship with a woman involved in it, but I'd had my moments. California is crawling with people involved in all kinds of alternative lifestyles, so it was inevitable that I would run into it, and just my luck to discover that I tended towards a Dominant personality, at least on the sly. And here I was, back home in the last place on Earth I expected to find someone also versed in the ins and outs of such kink, and she was my dearest and closest friend!
"OK, Sam, so tell me, how does a girl get her taste of kink in a small town like this? What have you been doing all this time, playing submissive on the internet from the safety of your bookstore?"
She kept staring at the symbol, fingering it like it was a fine diamond or something. "Well, no, I've done research, I've plied the chat-rooms, but I haven't gone so far as to take the leap to really getting involved.......", then her face lit up as something came to her, and she let go of the pendant and looked up at me. "Oh, this is perfect! Tell you what, Jason, the sun stays up pretty late around here in summer, remember? You go home or whatever and grab a bite to eat, let me close up shop here, and you meet me out at the Celtic rock where we used to play. I have a surprise for you I really think you'll enjoy! I'll see you there in about an hour, OK? Run along, I have some things to do." She leaned up and kissed my cheek, then shooed me out of the store. I left in a semi-state of shock, having no real idea what my old friend had up her sleeve, but looking forward to it, nonetheless.
Taking her advice, I grabbed a quick bite at the local digs and changed back into something more casual, just some jeans and a T-shirt. Then, I headed out back of the house and found the old path that would lead thru the woods that had not yet suffered the encroachment of developers as had happened in communities all over the country, still beautiful and alive with the colors and sounds of nature that I had so loved in my childhood. I hopped over a brook that had looked so much wider as a child, and hiked up and over the hill behind which lay the "Magic Forest" that Sam and I had played in so long ago. Except for some trees which had grown bigger and some that had died and toppled over, not much had changed the magical quality of these remote woods. Then, around a corner, I came into the clearing where the old granite rock rested, the Celtic cross still evident in the face of the unfinished piece of art some unknown artist had failed to complete for some unknown reason. But my gaze was quickly diverted by the incredible sight that greeted me just off to the side of the rock. There, standing next to that old paper mache dragon that we had created so many years ago, stood an incredibly sensuous maiden dressed in nothing but a skimpy fantasy outfit consisting of a very small bikini style top and a thin loin cloth thing that had the flavor of something you'd expect to see some pagan warrior woman or perhaps fantasy slave girl wearing, over which she wore a hooded cloak, parted to reveal her lean and lithe body. The effect was exotic, and quite sexy, to say the least. And I was now seeing Samantha in a whole new light, a goddess that in no way resembled the rough and tumble little girl I used to play with in these very woods.
She turned, hearing me step on a twig which echoed thru the clearing like a shot, and beamed at me, her eyes sparkling with devilish delight, and then, she stepped behind the dragon, feigning mock terror as she quickly leapt into the role she was prepared to play, knowing full well I was a sucker for a good fantasy, even at our age. Something told me that after all these years, the beast was going to have to die.........
She smiled wickedly and said in a voice with a slight Irish lilt, "Brave Sir, I am prisoner of this beast, but should you defeat him in mortal combat, then I shall be your prize, your property to do with as you please, for I am a slave, and must serve a Master!"
It brought me back to those days so long ago when Samantha and I would play in these very woods, innocent to the ways of love and passion, but full of adventure, and ready to take on monsters together. She was only then coming into puberty, and was a year my senior, thus our innocence remained intact during that sweet, joyous time before we were parted. Now, however, the possibilities were endless, and I was so grateful to have my old friend back in much the same way I had left her.
I took to her invitation and took on the manner of a brave pagan warrior, grabbing a handy gnarled branch and brandishing it at the creature we had fashioned. She laughed and make roaring noises to compliment the game, and I stepped back in mock avoidance of this imagined terror before rushing forward, yelling some made-up warrior cry, and smiting it upon the head. She stepped backwards and clapped in excited joy as I worked the paper mache dragon over with my "sword", until it's beat and battered carcass toppled over and lay before me defeated. I stood there breathing hard, a sheen of sweat on my brow, and slowly raised my eyes in her direction, the branch hanging from my grasp, in victory.
Just eyeing her in that incredibly sexy outfit had already gotten my juices flowing, but now she stepped towards me and just within reach, knelt down, her head lowered, the cloak left behind in a pile as she sat there upon her haunches looking so exotic. Without raising her head, she spoke softly, "Sir, you have rescued me from this dreaded beast and have taken me as your prize. I am yours to do with as you will, to serve you're every need, to pleasure you with every fiber in my being, to be your slut, your whore, your slave, forever and ever!"
When she got to the "slut and whore" part, she REALLY got my attention, as well as the attention of my cock, which was by now begging to spring free of the confines of my pants. She glanced up and it was obvious she could see my predicament, and her eyes wondered up to mine and she smiled such a wicked smile I knew my old friend was becoming so much more than what she once was. "Master," she said, smiling, "I can see your distress, and I beg of you to let me tend to you, something I assure you I am most talented at!"
Oh God, what could I say? I didn't need to say anything, for the need in my face spoke volumes, and she read that need easily, reaching forward to unbuckle my pants and draw down the zipper. I moaned as she slid the waistband down over my briefs, my swollen cock pressing out thru the thin cotton, from which she adeptly freed with one swift motion. There I was, my swollen, stiff cock standing straight out, pointing in the face of the most beautiful girl I'd ever known, and I moaned even louder as she opened her mouth and engulfed me, her lips meeting the base of my belly as she took my entire length between her lips, forcing her face forward to take the head into the back of her throat, with nary a gag.
She rested like that for a moment, and as I looked down, her head started to move back and forth in a slow, fluid motion, her lips wrapped tightly around the circumference of my shaft, which was now gleaming with a sheen of her saliva.
As I reached down and ran my fingers into her lustrous and thick hair on each side of her head, she reached around and placed her hands on my ass, urging me into her face by pulling back on my hips. I accepted her cue eagerly, beginning to thrust my cock into her face more forcefully, driving deep into her throat with each push which became faster at her urging. I had never encountered a girl before that enjoyed having her face fucked with such determination, and I was more than glad to take advantage of it. I clutched her hair tightly with my fists and rammed my cock into her fast with hard fast thrusts, little squirts of saliva escaping out of the corners of her mouth as I fucked her fast and furiously. In no time at all a moan escaped me and my body began to stiffen as the heat began to gather in my tightening balls, and she seemed to know exactly when I was about to lose control, for just as I felt the pressure rising, she pulled her mouth completely free of my cock, reached up and grabbed the shaft, and began to pump it furiously, her eyes closed, her mouth open and tongue extended, as the first jet of white hot cream began to spurt from my throbbing cock. The first stream of cum jetted right into her eager mouth, onto her tongue, and she smiled as she savored the hot creamy flavor, licking her lips as the next gushers splashed her face. She shook her face around so that streaks of cum had her face covered, some dribbling down to drip onto her breasts, like she was taking a cum shower. I looked down and witnessed a girl truly enjoying herself, and I couldn't help laugh as my knees began to go weak with the aftermath of cumming so hard. She opened her eyes and looked up at me, still stroking my cock, making sure she got every last drop out of me, then licked the shaft to make sure it was totally clean. My old friend Samatha was a true cum-slut!
"My God, Sam, that had to be the best blow job I ever had in my life! Where in the hell did you learn to do THAT?" I asked her, smiling. She giggled and started wiping the cum off her face, taking pleasurable little licks of her fingers as she ate the gobs of cream. "Oh, I haven't been a TOTAL angel since you saw me last. All I know is if it pleased you, then I did right. And Master, I hope you have a few tricks to show ME, because I have been dreaming of being used by you for so long I just can't wait to see what you have in store for me!"
"Dear Sam, coming home has turned out to be the best thing I ever did. I would never in a million years believed that what I've been searching for all these years was right back where I started. And yes, there ARE a few things I'd love to do to you I hope you enjoy, which I think you will if you're as willing to explore the kink as much as you told me you were."
Just watching her licking my cum off her face and licking it with such love in her face already had me hard again, and I decided it was a good a time as any to pull the ultimate test on her, at least from my reasoning. "Sam, I want you to crawl over to the flat rock over there and lay prone on it with your hips in the air. I'm going to fuck you in the ass now. Have you ever been assfucked, my little fucktoy?"
She didn't even bat an eye. She just smiled at me, stood up, removed her costume, revealing her pert beasts and shaved sex, and got down on all fours, speaking to me over her shoulder as she crawled over to the rock as I'd instructed. "No Sir, I haven't yet had the pleasure, but I have been using a dildo on myself getting used to the idea. I'm your little ass-virgin, Master, and I'm so pleased you get to break me in!"
This was incredible! Sweet virgin ass, and it was all mine! I watched her as she crawled up on the rock, laying her face down on the cold rock and hiking up her ass, spreading her legs wide and reaching back to part her ass cheeks, presenting me with her nice tight little bud to penetrate at my pleasure. So, being the good Master that I had just become, I walked over, spitting on my cock to lubricate the head, and placed the head of my cock up against her anus. She moaned as I reached down and grasped her hips, easing my own forward, shoving the head of my stiff cock into her tight hole. She moaned even louder and then gasped as the head of my cock stretched her tight sphincter and then popped past it, and her cries were an obvious cry of pain, which almost froze me in my tracks. She sensed how I was reacting, tho, and urged me on, knowing the pain would pass as I filled her with cock. I obliged, and shoved past her tight ring as she bit her lip, driving my cock deeper into her, then pulling back almost out, then shoving back in, deeper each time. Soon, as the pressure around my shaft began to give way, she began to push back against my thrusts, welcoming my cock into her tight hole, beginning to moan louder as I drove deeper with each thrust. She squealed with delight as I finally drove my cock into her to the hilt, my balls swinging up to slap her hot, wet pussy. "Oh god, Master, I never realized how good it could feel......oh fuck, yes, fuck me Master, fuck your little twat in the ass....YES!!!"
I didn't need alot of encouragement. I fucked her. I fucked her hard, and I fucked her fast. I had spread her open more than she'd ever been opened before, but her ass clung to the circumference of my cock like a velvet glove, and I never felt anything before so sweet! I was ramming into her like a beast, and she was grunting with each thrust, moaning and crying with pleasure as I used her ass for my pleasure, reaching up between her legs with her hand to rub her swollen wet clit. "Do you want to cum, my little cunt?" I asked her as I fucked her. "Oh god, I could cum at any moment, Master, Yes, please let me cum, PLEASE!!"
I could easily have told her no, although I was not entirely convinced, despite all the stories I'd heard, that a woman could stop herself from experiencing an impending orgasm, but I was well on my way to my second orgasm myself, so I picked up the pace and gave her permission to let go, which she did with a scream that echoed thru the quiet and empty woods. Her whole body was shaking and bucking as tho she was having a seizure, which prompted my own explosion, my cock pumping what cum I had left deep inside her hot ass. I pressed forward, driving as deep as I could as I lifted my head and yelled with release, and she pressed back against me, still trembling, savoring the pulsating hunk of meat I filled her with. Then, my knees failed me, and I collapsed on top of her, both of us falling flat onto the flat rock, my cock withdrawing from the grasp of her asshole as it softened, spent and going limp. We lay there in a heap of sweating, hard breathing flesh, experiencing the long fall from the heights we had both attained.
Samantha turned her head and hoarsely spoke back up to me over her shoulder as we lay there getting back our breath, "Jason, I mean, Master, no matter how good it might get, I will never ever in my life forget the day you broke in my ass.....God this was the closest thing to a religious experience I've ever had!"
I slid sideways off of her wet, sweaty back and stared sideways into her eyes. "Sam, is this just another one of our games, after all these years, or are you really serious about being my slave? We haven't seen each other for years, so how can you think you know me or can trust me well enough to commit yourself to me like that? As much as this has been a wonderful experience, I really don't want you making promises in the heat of another one of our fantasies that you can't or don't intend to keep."
She returned my gaze, listening to me as her breath slowed to something less than frantic, smiled, and brushed her fingers over my cheek, softly, gently. "Jason, dear, I've hungered for you ever since you left me. Yes, things have changed, we are two different people, not kids anymore, but what we had back then was magical, and just because we grew up doesn't mean the magic has to go away. The older I got the more I realized how different I was, how much I needed to submit to someone, and I am so happy you came back to me and knew me for what I was, above and beyond the play mate you used to know. You were a sweet and gentle boy back then, and nothing you have done since I saw you again tells me that you have changed all that much inside. And I have no doubt whatsoever that if you find me worthy, that you would make a fine Master, one I would serve gladly for all the rest of my days. I'm not playing a game, Jason, I've always loved you and I want to love you forever!"
I held her close to me, savoring her soft flesh, her smell, and dared the fates to awaken me from some dream. We lay there upon the rock, embraced, two soul mates once cruelly separated by time and distance, now brought back together, changed, yet still joined in a way few people could ever hope to be connected. I had lived a fast and furious life led around by circumstances beyond my control, but now, as I sought the solace of what I now felt in the arms of my oldest and closest friend, I knew I had been given back a life I never should have lost to begin with, and I was determined to embrace this gift with all the joy I could muster. So, my friends, if YOU have a dream, dare dream it, never let it go, for sad lives are reserved for those who sleep to deeply to dream such dreams as these.........

Little Sub on the Praire

Somewhere, a retired old fighting boat (we don't call them ships), or what's left of her, is cruising on the surface of the prairie, a monument to the brave and somewhat crazy men who manned the nuclear powered fast attack submarines of the United States Navy. The sail (or as they once were called, conning tower) of the USS LAPON (SSN661) was saved from the scrap-yards by the efforts of a dedicated group of veterans and installed as a monument in Branson, Missouri in July of 2005. A large group of alumni, including four Commanding Officers, attended the dedication ceremony. Yours truly, THE Michael, who served aboard her in the early seventies as a yeoman, unfortunately was unable to attend. Still, kept up to date thru the organizations website, I was able to be there in spirit, remembering my three odd years of service aboard that fine submarine. The big "E"'s that you see on the sail are the commendations the boat earned during her illustrious career, the details of which still remain classified, although you can probably find out how they were earned by reading the book "Blind Man's Bluff", which illustrated some of the daring missions this boat is famous for, albeit in an un-admitted manner as far as the Defense Department is concerned. Most of this history occurred during the cold war, and while the Vietnam conflict garnered most of the attention, there was another war going on beneath the waves that most Americans are still pretty much ignorant of, but was just as vital to the security of our nation. These guys are truly an example of a collection of "unsung heroes" who will never get their measure of respect compared to the results of their service. Although I fully respect the hell that those brave boys in the rice patties of Southeast Asia endured, neither was submarine service a piece of cake. It was DANGEROUS, long periods of mundane boredom punctuated with periods of pure adrenaline if not outright terror, and chances were that if ANYbody died, EVERYbody died, as the tragedies of the USS SCORPION and USS THRESHER aptly demonstrated. It truly took a special breed of sailor to endure being cooped up in a steel cylinder for up to a month at a time, (ballistic missile submarines routinely patrol for months at a time), cruising around in places we might not be welcomed, at depths that tested the construction of our hulls, and not seeing the light of day except perhaps by a lucky glance thru a periscope. The bunking left a lot to be desired, even if you rated your own personal bunk (as in sleeping quarters), but I do have to admit the food was generally the best the Navy had to offer, which was good, considering that any one of those meals could very well have been our last. Then there's those periods approaching the end of long patrols when people started running out of cigarettes! You think Buffalo sounds ornery, imagine being in close quarters with 70 odd other guys just like him having a nicotine fit! I think that paints an adequately scary picture!
Well, I am extremely proud to have a connection with that odd monument cruising the surface of the prairie. Looking back, knowing what I know now, would I do it all again? You're damn STRAIGHT I would! Only I would have taken a lot more pride in what I was doing as a young sailor aboard one of the finest submarines ever to run silent, run deep!

Friday, November 18, 2005

One more hurdle........

I have begun to notice on several blogs now, which for now will remain anonymous, that not only do you have to type in the secret code, sometimes several times, but now it informs you that your comment will be posted after being vetted by a seven step protocol, a lie detector test, a background investigation, and an oath of loyalty, after which the author of said blog MIGHT allow your comment to be displayed, providing of course it has passed all of the afore mentioned tests and the author likes what you said. This must stop. You can't have anarchy with big brother telling you which Molotov cocktail is approved for throwing. You can't have free speech at 35 cents per minute for the first three minutes. You can't claim to be open minded, democratic, and tolerant of other people's stupidity if you insist on covering up their stupidity. We are the masses, yearning to be free, and we damn well will not tolerate our so called brethren editing our responses to their insightful, well written and brilliant works of literary art! So, in the spirit of all that made this great nation the shining city on the landfill, I hereby start a petition to put a stop to this insidious practice before it sucks all the life out of our life, liberty, and pursuit of slander! ARE YOU WITH ME?

The preceding political advertisement was paid for by the committee to come up with ways to pay for committees to further the interests of committees that put out these sort of things, for what reasons I have no earthly idea.

The Great Ascent

It was a cold, crisp night, the harvest moon creeping over the tree-line, and I was arriving home after a twelve hour shift, the house dark and empty, since the wife was putting in a late night shift herself. I loaded up the plastic bags of items I had picked up on the way home and headed for the steps of the porch when suddenly I was confronted with..........the first step. I froze. The step was intimidating, to say the least, as one would be required to lift their foot a good 8 inches into the air in order to mount it. To make matters worse, there was another step above that one that rose the same distance, only this one was further back, which would require that a forward as well as lifting motion would be required with the other foot in order to get to it, a daunting proposition to say the least. These two feet of mine had not risen much further than perhaps 3 inches at the most all day long in order to propel me along the floor, and now they were being tasked with a whole new motion I wasn't sure they were prepared to make. I stood there with two gallons of wine in one hand and a frozen pizza in the other, my keys grasped somewhere in the mix, wondering what I was going to do. There was no getting into the house without first surmounting this intimidating obstacle, and it was dark, since the outside light had not been turned on when the wife left the house. Damn her! How could she not foresee the quandary she would put me in by her incompetence?!
It was not long after I had gathered the courage and fortitude to attempt the ascent up this Everest when, looking up, I was horrified to discover that there were not simply 2, but a total of 5 of these terrible wooden platforms that I was going to have to circumvent if I ever hoped to get within the comfort and safety of my abode! Can you imagine the state of mind I must have been in at that terrible moment? I could say that my entire life flashed before my eyes, but I would be exaggerating, for my mind was racing so fast I couldn't even remember how I had managed to climb into the car, a feat that surely should have prepared me mentally for this challenge. Oh, the humanity! What WAS I going to do?
Then, the answer to my quandary came in a flash in the guise of a small, furry animal that zipped right past me and ascended the dreaded staircase in such an easy, fluid motion the very grace of it simply astounded me! Within the span of 2 seconds, this creature had made it to the top of the steps and onto the porch with a motion that could only be described as effortless, which so impressed me that I almost dropped the heavy wine bottles from my weakening grasp. Suddenly, I was in the grasp of an epiphany, as if the truth of the universe had been revealed to me like a spotlight in the darkness.
With the enlightenment that comes to few people caught in such terrible circumstances, I centered myself and lifted a foot, propelling it forward as I did, daring to believe that I, empowered with the faith one must have to challenge and conquer such a beast, could do this as easily as this feline wonder had. Imagine the pride that swelled within my breast as I shifted my body forward and was rewarded with the solid and comforting feel of my foot cleanly placing itself upon that first step! The sensation was, for lack of a better discription....exhilerating! With a newfound gusto, I brought up the other foot and followed thru with the same motion that had enabled me to attain that first step, and, WAH-LAH! There I was, safely ensconced upon the first step and ready to propel myself upward to the second. I now knew I could do this; nothing on Bob's green Earth had a snowball's chance in hell of stopping me now!
I would like to report to you now with great pleasure that I managed to climb this huge obstacle with no less effort and grace then the cat had proven to me could be done, but sadly, my friends, at that very moment I snapped out of the silly state of mind that Lights-in-the-Wake had put me into before I had left for this trip. So, there I was, standing on the porch, looking down those steps, smiling at how I, THE Michael, had managed to take such a mundane occurrence that did not deserve such a complicated rendering, and RENDERED that sucker for all it was worth! I would like to thank Lights for providing me with the inspiration to make this story possible. Without his able assistance, you surely would have been subjected to another rant, inane observation, or dose of Madness for which I have become infamous.

Tune in tomorrow when THE Michael attempts to collect various foodstuffs in a four wheeled conveyance which will surely terrify ALL of you when one of those wheels begins to WOBBLE! Don't say I didn't warn you.........

Tuesday, November 15, 2005

Predator and Prey......Good and Evil?

While googling I came across one of Alley's old posts concerning rapists, which Buffalo had replied to in his straight from the hip yet philosophical manner, which led to a discussion concerning the nature of evil. One camp suggests that evil people are simply born such, while the other suggests they become that way thru societal or family influences.
Well, I am so tempted to think that evil is a force that is balanced equally by good, and most would accept that as the ying and yang of existence, but I believe that the concepts of good and evil exist only as perception in the mind of humans. The deer flees the wolf not because he sees the wolf as a force of evil, but as a predator, out to kill and eat him, which is neither good nor bad. The force of good does not produce a warm spring day while evil whips up a category five hurricane; it's just weather. The flawless skin is not a product of good any more than the melanoma is a product of evil.

Depending on brain development and upbringing, there are so many factors that influence how a person perceives the world around him and reacts to it. I tend to believe there are many conditions that the human brain becomes hard-wired for, including sexual orientation, and I would be willing to bet that sociopaths also suffer from some deficit in the womb, although it can be seen all around us how children can be raised to have utterly no empathy at all. Still, the evidence exists in abundance that children raised in conditions of despair manage somehow to rise above it all to become healthy, empathetic adults who do not follow in the footsteps of their families and peers. So where does this evil come from?

Like I have already suggested, evil is perception. Even behaviors that in some societies or different times were considered evil are now thought of as benign or harmless. There will never come a time in which serial killers and rapists will be considered normal, but in the country of Iraq, there was a whole sect of muslims that considered the terror of Sadam Hussein to be nothing more than the way it should be. I speak of a large segment of the Sunni population in and around Bagdad. The power and influence these people enjoyed under the protection of their benefactor came at the price of oppression of all other sects in Iraq. The Shiites considered him evil, yet they also view the U.S. as the Great Satan. So, evil CAN be relative.

But, let's be honest here. Does it really matter what created the evil once the damage is done? Yes, we should open our eyes to how this evil was created, but hindsight, even 20/20, does not fix the evil that has already sprung forth. As long as we ignore the lessons we are taught, we are doomed to repeat them. So, we need to pay attention or continue to suffer the consequences. But I suggest it is an utter waste to turn the other cheek in the interests of goodness and charity and not deal with evil as it manifests itself. If we are the deer, we need protection from the wolf, and it makes no difference if our wolves are good or evil, they are wolves.

Sunday, November 13, 2005

The Truth is Funny Enough

Well, the wife is getting serious in her exploration of paganism/Wicca, and being the loyal, loving, open minded spouse that I am, I'm along for the ride. So of course, I've done a bit of research into the matter and have learned some interesting things. One thing I've learned is that like all religions, Wicca seems to come in a variety of flavors springing from some core beliefs. I've even learned that Wiccans can display the same sort of intolerance that Christians can, which is rather comical when you think about it. Take for instance this one pagan soldier, a sixteen year army veteran who is going to be deployed to Iraq again, hopefully for the last time, for he'll be getting out when he returns. He tried to join up with a local Wiccan coven and was castigated for serving in the military and claiming to follow the tenants of paganism. This narrow minded view, just as with traditional religions, is not shared by all who practice Wicca, but it points to the human nature to buttonhole people and their beliefs and to judge them. That is one reason I shy away from holding my own convictions hostage to the approval of any one group that claim to hold a patent on the truth of all things.
There is one piece of misinformation I would really like to see put to rest, tho, in regards to Wicca. Yes, practitioners of Wicca are known as Witches, amongst other things, and it's bad enough that the stereotype of witches is that they are these ugly, evil spell casting hags. I can't claim that most witches are hot babes, but they are just people, no uglier or prettier than average, and this idea of casting evil spells is rather stupid when you consider that a central tenant of Wicca is that whatever you throw out comes back to you threefold. But, I digress, for the BIG mistake people, especially Christians, tend to make is that Wiccans worship the devil.Folks, I hate to take the wind out of your sails, but Wiccans don't even believe the devil exists to begin with. Christians do. Wiccans recognize that there is evil in the world, and that evil is brought forth by people, not some fallen angel with horns and a pitch fork. So, think about it, those who would burn a person for being a witch is bringing forth the very evil they accused their victims of practicing. Yes, there are people who actually believe in and worship Satan, but if you are going to direct your ire at devil worshipers, I suggest you turn your attentions towards those who do rather than try and lump anybody who doesn't believe in YOUR God as satanic.
What truly makes me feel sorry for Christians and Muslims alike is that their beliefs have been hijacked, sullied, and twisted out of all recognition by the extremists amongst them. The mainstream of all these beliefs does itself the most disservice by not coming out forcefully against these agents of hate and destruction and disowning them. You really need to put your faith where your mouth is and speak up rather than allow the likes of Pat Robertson and Osama Bin Laden to spout their narrow minded hatred in your name. If not, then you might as well strap on some dynamite yourself, or call down the wrath of your God on any town you think deserves it, for you encourage it by your silence.

Friday, November 11, 2005

The Road to Recovery, etc......

Well, today I had my third session of physical therapy and re-evaluation by the Workman's' Comp Doc, and it's one more week of light duty. You masochists out there would love this electro stimulus contraption they hook up to you. He tells me to just turn the knob up till I reach a "strong, yet comfortable" setting. Trying to get the voltage up to do me the most good, I usually end up with my back trying to detach itself from my body and crawl off the table. Today he pasted that electrode right on top of my shoulder muscle, which had me shrugging like crazy when the juice turned on. I don't EVEN want to know how high morningstar would have cranked that sucker up! hehe
And do I get a really nice female therapist? Hell no, I get the 6 foot 8 hercules with the foreign accent that knows how to hurt you in the name of therapy! He wasn't THAT bad, accept when he insisted on loosening up my spinal column which he does by poking me in the spine between the disks with a finger harder than steel, and when he hits this certain spot halfway down it's like I touched the third rail of the subway...OUCH!
The Doc thinks another week of light duty, which in my case means I get to play unit clerk (God I hate that job!) and by then I should be able to get back out on the floor and do my usual thing. Thing is, I'm already 50 and these patients are getting heavier and heavier. If you people stuffing your faces and sitting on your gargantuan asses all day thinks your obesity only effects you, let me inform you otherwise. It effects the nurses and aids having to pull your blubber around in hospital beds, causing us injuries we don't need. But, that's another subject altogether.
Today was Veterans Day. It is truly a day of honor. But this one is sad for me, because my brothers-in-arms are being dishonored, being injured and killed in a sham war that one day might very well have the perpetrator of this fiasco being brought up on war crimes. But one thing I AM proud of is the way the American people have behaved this time around in the midsts of an unpopular war. They have not blamed our troops for the mess Bush has created. Those both favoring and opposing this thing still stand behind our troops 100%, because regardless of the politics, they proudly serve their country.
Yes, there have been some bad things happen involving our troops, but I think all these shameful acts can be laid on the doorstep of Bush, Cheney and Rumsfield, who one way or another made it possible for these acts to occur, flinging mud in the face of this great nation and dishonoring us amongst our friends and allies in the world. These idiots seem to have forgotten what this great nation stands for, instead acting more like nazi's. Rumsfield, you would feel more comfortable working for Putin, than a country that stands for the rule of law and civilized behavior in conflict.
So today, I take some time out from my petty concerns and thank those of the greatest generation for saving our collective asses from the Axis powers, you brave souls who stood down the North Koreans, my brothers who slogged thru the rice patties of Southeast Asia and suffered terribly for it, and my shipmates who helped us win the cold war. To my brothers and sisters in the Middle East, I can only hope we get you home safe and sound before we lose another thousand of you brave kids. I salute you all........

Thursday, November 10, 2005

What IS, just IS...........

My, my, such a need these people have to force us all to our knees to worship some deity! Their insistent belief borne of indoctrination is overwhelming, yet not one of them can get their God to perform some miracle in front of us doubters as to put these constant arguments to rest. Where does this need to believe in something supernatural and superior come from, a faith so strong it pits adherents of brand A against those committed to brand B against those determined to preach the truth of plan C? Mortality, my friends, the simple fear of oblivion.
Any one who has paid any attention to the daily concerns of our animal friends can't help to notice how much happier they are with their lives, provided their immediate concerns are met, such as food, shelter, and affection. If they are capable of comprehending an end to their existence, they do not show it. It seems that along with self awareness and the ability to ponder, we are burdened with the knowledge of our own deaths, which in turn frightens us into grasping some hope, ANY hope, of continuing on beyond this plane we can touch and feel, and in doing so, we need a parent figure, a stern yet loving omnipotent creature complete with human emotions and moral quandaries. Just about any condition you can apply to the species human you will hear attributed to that white bearded invisible man in the sky. Yes, my friends, all this folly that has plagued us for centuries can be boiled down to one simple concept.......the desire to live forever, in one form or another.
Now, I don't want all you hard-core atheists to assume that I am supporting your side of the argument either. Based on a strictly logical and scientific approach, you have much more ammunition to support your assertions, I have to agree, however, I also would like to advance the theory that aside from fanciful ideas of invisible men in the sky and burning bushes, that there could very well be a realm of consciousness beyond that which we are able perceive with the senses we are equipped with. If some age old claims are to be believed, there ARE people equipped to sense this other dimension, a dimension that might include a place for our individual egos. I fully realize that this might very well be wishful thinking, but I am willing to to keep an open mind to such possibilities, especially since they make alot more sense then what the religious would have us accept on blind faith.
Intelligent design? No, I do not accept that some intelligence promulgated this universe, but I do accept that an intelligence arose from the consequence of life that evolved into sentience. As hard as it is to grasp the concept of eternity, I think perhaps we should attempt to wrap our minds around the idea that this universe has always been here, perhaps cycling thru a big bang and a collapse, but always having existed, with no beginning, perhaps no end.
So how many "Earths" are there? How many "Earths" have there been, and will be? How many species have attained the ability to gaze into the heavens and ask these questions, perhaps never to be answered? And how many Gods might these people have created to quiet their fears of death and oblivion? It is quite possible that some species have arisen on distant worlds who rather than dealing with their mortality with hysteria, embraced it as a natural consequence of the circle of life, never having to dream up some mystical religion to reassure themselves with.
I have watched countless people take their last breaths, watched as their hearts gave up the fight and beat that last 87 millionth beat. Never once did their face reveal some joy at finally gaining an answer to questions long asked. Never once did I feel the brush of air as angels gathered them up to take to heaven. Whatever took place with their essences remained beyond my comprehension. And in the ten years that I have taken care of these sick people, not one of the countless souls that ended their lives here ever stuck around to haunt the place, either that, or I just can't see dead people. Whatever the ultimate truth of the matter, I know that one day, I shall find my answers either in the embrace of some collective consciousness, or sweet oblivion, neither of which I feel any need to fear. And to those of you thinking I need saving, your threat of hellfire and damnation will not frighten me into believing in any of your particular brands of God. And Bob will not punish you for trying.

Wednesday, November 09, 2005


Well, I just got back from physical "terror-py", feeling like I got ran over by a truck or something. There's still this "something's not right" feeling hanging in the air above double-wide estates. This morning we looked out the back door and saw Billy laying down on the ash pit where his brother Mysty was cremated. Don't tell me animals don't know, they do.
This bummed out state I find myself in has really affected my writing. I struggled to get thru the last episode of "Adventures", and for some reason I can't seem to get into Brandon's frame of mind for the next post. Maybe I'm still grieving, so hopefully I'll get over it and climb back on that horse in due time. Besides, it's not like very many people are clamoring for the next installment.
I have to hand it to Lights-in-the-Wake, tho, for the funniest post I ever read, bar none. And I also have to give full credit to Teri for inspiring him. All of you guys have been doing some good work, and it is comforting to have your posts appear on my monitor to lift my spirits. And the kind comments you have left concerning Mysty have really helped alot, so thanks to all of you.
Ok, I'm staring blankly at this monitor more than typing, so I guess I'll just get this post up and take another muscle relaxer. Hopefully my muse will return before too long to inflict you all with the way things are "According to THE Michael".


Saturday, November 05, 2005

Mysty R.I.P.

It is with great sadness that we report the demise of one of our goats. Mysty was a handsome breed with a red coat and black accents, but lacking his horns. Of our three friends, he was the "Alpha" goat, but was also the most even-tempered, gentle, and obedient of the group. He was a curious sort, as goats go, and loved to play king of the hill with the other two, almost always winning due to his size, even without the horns. Mysty could head-butt with the best of them.
Our neighbor behind us had given us permission to let the goats graze his yard, a win-win situation for both of us, as the goats had pretty much cleared out our yard, and his had plenty that he'd just as soon not have to mow. However, he has two german shepards, one of which attacked mysty, probably because he didn't have horns to fight him off with like the other two, and tore a plate-sized patch of hair and skin off the poor goat. I tended the wound as best I could, not thinking it would be fatal, but Mysty passed away in the night, probably due to shock.
We do not believe in burials. We built a pyre and cremated our friend, that his ashes would return to the Earth, his spirit leaving with the smoke to join his friends in the green fields of eternity, where there are no fences and everything tastes great. We will miss him, not only because of his industrious appetite, but for his singular personality that made him a pleasure to know. So long, old goat, Bob welcomes you into the great herd.

Friday, November 04, 2005

Hidden Treasures

I was going thru my closet yesterday and came across this little snapshot album that used to belong to my Mom, Michele. I had been so sad that I hadn't had more proof as to just how artistically talented this woman was, but, eureka! I FOUND IT!
So, I took out a nice selection of the portraiture that she used to be so good at and scanned it so that I could share these wonders with the rest of you. Enjoy!

Wednesday, November 02, 2005

Founding Fathers

We need to return to the good old days, and I mean the good OLD days, when our founding fathers drafted a constitution and bill of rights that spelled it all out clearly; that all MEN were created equal. Now, I realize that they forgot to specify WHITE, Christian, Property owning men, but we are supposed to assume that's what they meant. They knew that in order to protect our freedoms from each other, we would need to be armed to the teeth, thus they protected our right to bear thermonuclear weapons if that's what it took. They deemed our freedom to speak our minds paramount, unless of course our minds veer from the path our government wants it to follow. They insisted that government have no hand in the promotion or dissuasion of religion, with the understanding that God fearing Christians of the right denominations decide what that means exactly. They wrote this document with the intention of protecting many freedoms, with equal clarity.
It is comforting to know that the founding fathers wrote this constitution with the belief that there would be no need for it to evolve with the times, to take into account all the changes that comes with progress and changing societal norms. Yes, they were true visionaries who said what they meant, and meant what they said, knowing full well that only right wing conservative Christian fundamentalists would truly understand the proper way to interpret it, the same way they are so good at interpreting the bible. They knew full well that sometime in the future, commie sissy atheist baby killing liberal judges would attempt to legislate from the bench, thus they spaced out appointments to coincide with the natural cycle of conservative administrations, insuring that the proper, right thinking kind of close personal friends of said administrations would be nominated and shoved down the throats of the Senate in order to return the balance of the court to the far right where it belongs.
It is also reassuring to know that somewhere out there is a secret department within a secret department somewhere in the NSA that is monitoring these blogs to insure that evil, atheistic kinds of thinking do not pollute the minds of the populace and interfere with the President's God-given right to wage war against dictators who dare rule their countries over oil fields that we may need someday to fuel our SUV's with. We need those SUV's to haul around all those Gideon Bibles that need to be distributed to those barbarians that might live in places not already paved over with good, hard American asphalt or concrete.
If you, my dear reader, do not see the logic of my argument here, then it is clear that Satan has influenced you, removing the ability to think logically, which we all know is simply one of his tools to remove you from God's grace. But, do not worry, for we will protect you from yourself, just as soon as we get the right kind of judges on the court to interpret the bill of rights the PROPER way.

Thank you and have a nice day.