ROFF!!!!!!!

That feeling of liberation, the moment your foot crosses that threshold at work knowing you won't have to come back across it for another week or two....ahhhhh....there's nuthin' like it! ROFF! (That's our little abbreviation for "We're off").
Today we take care of last minute details before we head on down the road to Tampa to visit the kids. Gotta remove the two inch layer of cat and dog hair from the carpet, stock up on hay for the goats, make sure the litter boxes are clean and full, (and believe me, they will be FULL by the time we get back), and fix a section of the castle walls that Billy, the aggravatingly smart goat, discovered he could breach by prying back a loose section of lattice work.
Never mess with a man married to a witch. Yesterday, much to my delight, I discovered that I have survived my 6th department manager in my 10 years since starting my present job. They come and they go, but The Michael remains! This last one seemed to take quiet and smug delight in manipulating department policy simply to make my life miserable, as well as upsetting every nurse in the unit. Well, she's history. NEXT! LIke I said, it's not a good idea to mess with a man who's married to a witch.......hehe.
It was kinda upsetting when our daughter, the good twin, said she couldn't find where and when the pagan festival we wanted to check out was going to occur, but she's managed to track it down. Since this is a vacation on the cheap, the only other distraction we would have had for the entire week was to tour the local magik shops, like two kids in a candy store. I'm hoping I can find myself a nice Athema, which for you muggles, is a ceremonial knife used for spell casting. It's not used as a weapon or cutting tool, simply a tool used to focus energies, something sort of akin to a phallic symbol, as opposed to a cauldron or chalice which represents the womb......or something like that.....I'm still learning.
The one thing which will make an otherwise smooth expedition a bit aggravating will be this damn tire which got punctured but I managed to save by plugging. If you've ever had to use a can or two of fix-a-flat on a tire and experienced the out-of-balance vibration it can induce, you know what I mean. The vibrations set in just under 60 mph, and frankly I don't want to spend the entire trip feeling like everyone else on the highway wants to run my ass over for getting in the way. I'm usually passed by everybody anyway, since I rarely exceed the 70 mph speed limit. I'm not one of those who feels that 95 mph is necessary just because you CAN. 70 is plenty fast enough for me, thank you.
While with the kids, I hope I can commandeer their (shudder) PC to post our adventures on the blog, but I can't promise. I hope to get some really great footage at the pagan festival, but getting it edited on the 'putor is going to be problematic since I have filled my meager 80 gig hard drive to overflow and don't have space for editing. It will all be on tape, tho, so eventually you guys might get to see it.
Well, I have a shitload of stuff to get done, so I will leave you with this post to mull over till I can get back on with the next report. In the meantime, I guess you guys will just have to settle for whatever Tim, Shandi, Amber, Cherish, gina, littleone, and those "other" guys can come up with in my stead. I don't envy them. Grin.......

Shameless plug.....

You know you've been dying for another episode. MB felt your pain. Go see him.

Family Values

Tonight I have been humbled. Humbled by the love of family. Let me explain.

The wife and I were planning on taking a vacation to Tampa to visit the kids and attend a pagan festival that is held there every year. We haven't seen anything resembling a vacation in so long we had to look up the word in the dictionary. Nothing fancy, mind you, sleeping on cots or whatever, not having any money to actually spend on anything, just seeing the kids in their natural habitat, visiting the local spook shops, etc.......the poor man's getaway. Well, the poor man who thanks to the so-called "free market" system has to pay for at least two $30 tanks of gas to get the car that distance and back.

Then the reality of my wife's job was visited upon us. My wife's pay is based entirely on her "sales-per-hour", and her hourly rate of pay is calculated based on this, which can be raised or cut every 6 months depending on that formula. Now, it seems perfectly legal in this state, and probably in any state in which the "employment at will" philosophy of bend me over and fuck me good labor law holds sway, to "grant" an employee "vacation", while holding that employee responsible for not having sold anything during that period, and thus cut their pay to compensate. Another-words, they can claim to be giving you time off of work, but of course you aren't actually going to get paid for it. So, if nothing else, this is nothing but a thinly veiled fraud. So, having had it explained to her that if she takes her "vacation" now, before july when the new season starts, she would suffer a hefty cut in her hourly pay, she came home to me crying, understandably. We are on the razor's edge with our finances, and having her pay cut could put us in jeopardy. Not that we aren't already struggling, mind you. So, you guessed it......faced with this harsh rain on our parade, we had no choice but to call off our little trip south, at least for another six months.

I am going to investigate why this kind of slight of hand benefit can even be legal, but for the meantime the lights dimmed here at Pendragon Hold. That is until the news was shared with the kids, and the phone rang again. How much would we lose by taking a week off without pay? Oh, we reckoned about $400 maybe. Well, let me explain that the kids have been going thru some tough times of their own. I can't imagine that $400 would not have some negative impact on them, later if not sooner. Didn't matter. We needed this time off. They have the money. We need this vacation more than they need that money. I have every logical reason to tell my son-in-law thanks, but no thanks, I can't let them do that. But I respect them. They are family, and they intend to do what family does.

We are going to Tampa.

More than one way to float a boat........

I encountered a website that was most refreshing in how it promoted Wicca by dismissing many of the beliefs promulgated by it's followers. Just as some of the most unlikely and ludicrous things are declared by Judea-Christians and Muslims, so is the pagan arm of the "gotta believe in something" crowd infected with rote propaganda that has little basis in historical fact. There is so much about Wicca that makes it very attractive to someone looking for common sense in a search for meaning, but like ANY religion, if it can't stand up to close scrutiny, it has no more value than any other crackpot philosophy. Thus it is no blasphemy to wish to know WHY you believe what you choose to believe, rather than to take whatever is presented to you at face value. I think you Catholics out there taking birth control get my ghist.

Most of us are quite familiar with the David Copperfield and Harry Houdini flavor of magic, and thank Bob that most of us know, regardless of what our eyes tell us, that it is nothing more than manipulation of observation. However, we still have this romantic notion of wizards flicking a wand at something and turning it into stone or an amphibian, or some ugly old witch mixing up a potion that will make any handsome prince fall in love with a woman, no matter how challenging to the eye she might be. So does this logical dismissal mean that there truly is no such thing as magic? If atheistic sensibilities declare that there is no invisible man in the sky that answers prayers, does this make a prayer a silly exercise in desperation? Not if you understand the power of belief, or intent.

Coincidence is a fact of life, a twist of fate that provides for opportune occurrences that have a positive or negative effect on a moment. You wish your parents would just DIE in a fit of rebellion and next thing you know the cops are on the phone informing you an accident just occurred. You are haunted for the rest of your life thinking you might have been directly responsible for that tragedy. But, what if you were? What if the will can be so strong and demanding that some law of physics comes into play that influences minute by minute events in such a way that a desired outcome can result that otherwise might not have? It has always been said that if you want something bad enough, just about anything is possible. This desire for a particular outcome might merely be arrived at due to your own diligence, but force of will was certainly involved in the process, for it is also well known that half-hearted attempts at anything can severely impede their happening. So, in an age where most reasoning human beings know that science dictates what can and cannot happen, what we have here is the possibility that there is a branch of physics that has always operated behind the scenes, causing seemingly miraculous things to occur when in fact they occurred because the force of will, channeled thru some process we have yet to be able to observe and quantify, made them occur, intentionally or not.

Prayer is the magic of Judeo-christianity. There may be no great, omnipotent God that answers these prayers, but that does not mean that those prayers are powerless because of it. Behind prayer is desire.....intent......an exercise of will. You want something to happen. You beseich some entity you deem powerful enough to make this happen. Your desire, powered by this belief, mistaken or otherwise, sets in motion forces you aren't even aware of, and something happens. Perhaps what you asked for was going to happen anyway. But perhaps your desire that it happen strengthens the chances that it does, and your prayers are "answered". Maybe the more "devout" one is, the more likely that their desire is exercised, all the while attributed to a higher power. When prayers are not answered, at least to our satisfaction, then it is easy to ease one's dissapointment by thinking it simply wasn't meant to be. It is also entirely possible, and probably likely, that what you asked for simply was beyond manipulation by ANY means, as the laws that govern the universe so dictate.

Magik is the prayer of Wicca. Wiccans do not ascribe to a singular omnipotent being, but to deities that represent the essence of life's power throughout the universe, or to this world. This divinity is within us, the earth we live on, and all the life that exists upon it. We ask of ourselves as much as we call upon something outside of ourselves for favor and intervention when we need coincidence to occur in our favor. Thus, we exercise our will, our intent, and thru ceremony or whatever vehicle we choose to utilize, we set in motion those powers that make things happen, rather than being prisoners of random fate. To declare that prayer is any less valid than our spell-casting is arrogant at best. They effect change in their fashion, we do the same in ours. And as is with prayer, no amount of spell casting by any witch of any ability will circumvent those laws of physics which simply can't be bypassed.

Wicca suffers from the same silliness and insanity as any religion. People seeking meaning in life will shop around for whatever smoke and mirrors make their lives appear more meaningful. However, if one is to avoid the fate of the righteous, it behooves them to approach any practice of worship or ceremony with a VERY large grain of salt, and continually remind themselves that to outright dismiss the validity of any one path towards enlightenment does not automatically ensure that their own path will arrive at a destination more comforting than any others.

So, if you are a Wiccan, and encounter a Christian, allow that person to exercise their belief system without condemnation, until such time that their practice of those beliefs are undermined by hypocrisy, such as disrespecting you as a person because they are convinced you are unredeamable for some reason or another. And while you do this, remember, you're own behaviors will either strengthen their disrespect for you, or cause them to question it and possibly change their outlook.

If you believe in one God Almighty, creator of heaven and Earth, and encounter a Wiccan, please understand that they do not believe in the evils you think they must be saved from in order to find redemption, thus are mostly immune to your well-intentioned desire to lead them to God. Yet, they will respect you, even as a Christian, or any other believer, for they believe you have as much right to share the path to whatever destination awaits us all as anybody.

TMI, Revisited

This is a revolutionary multidisciplinary post that concurrently confuses, enlightens, and entertains you. Another-words, it was done on the fly and the thoughts transmitted from my grey matter thru my fingers to this keyboard and onto this page might resemble something you might encounter on the road to HUH?

I have succumbed to this programming that has removed hair from the human body in all places but the head as places it belongs. I would have a serious issue with European women. One hairy armpit or a bushy bush would send me running for an industrial can of Nair. Thanks, media, no wonder they hate Americans.

We are being charged far more than the actual worth of oil simply because they CAN. So, tell me, why CAN they? If the health insurance or other insurance companies were to hike their prices 500% overnight, there would be hell to pay. Most of us still have to get to work and heat our homes, nevermind long gas guzzling road trips to exotic destinations. So tell me; WHY can they? Let me answer my own question. You might be tempted to assign blame to supply and demand, to the free market system, or any other convoluted excuse. Then why hasn't the same applied to food, toasters, many other things we need but are kept somewhat under control so that they can be afforded at all? BECAUSE THEY CAN BEND US OVER A FUCKING BARREL OF CRUDE AND ECONOMICALLY SODOMIZE US! Because we LET them. If I suggested everybody stay off the road, not go to work, not burn one drop of oil till these dickweeds get the message, which you know damn well would work, would you? Of course not. You haven't got the guts. Neither do I if I can't count on anybody else to dare exercise their power as consumers. So, when you are deciding wether to pay for your prescriptions, your internet connection, food, clothing, shelter, OR a tank of gas and your electric bill, give me a call. I'm stuck right here because I can't afford 30 dollar tanks of gas for anything other than getting to work.

Shandi was explaining in her last post I read why she can't understand giving up control to someone else. It wasn't necessary. Giving up control to someone else is something we all do on a daily basis, but we think we actually choose to allow that to happen, when really we don't. It's a fact of life. However, voluntarily giving up control to someone else, especially for sexual or partnership reasons is not something most people could do if they even wanted to. Most humans are not designed to lend that amount of trust to another person, and frankly, that is a very healthy survival mechanism. It works for most of us. Some, however, find some sort of liberation, actually, in surrendering that control, while others are empowered by taking control themselves, with all it's attendant headaches and responsibilities. Not many are capable of taking on such a task, in a selfless manner no less, and most should not even presume to think they could. We find release, liberation, safety, pleasure, you name it, in the many choices we make, and if that choice is to be in total control of your own destiny, what could be possibly wrong with that? Shandi, you don't have to "get it". Just being yourself is your own personal "kink" and you own it, lock stock and barrel, and that's a good thing.

I have my own personal "kinks", and I gave up trying to psychoanalyze them years ago. I don't understand fully half the things that perk my interest, but I have found that trying to dissect them only makes them seem even weirder. If truth be told, I am probably more "normal" than most normal people I know. I certainly laugh when my "normal" friends admit to something totally hilarious in the ways of phobias or the things they can be anal about. It's the one's that go out of their way to appear squeaky clean that really worry me. Try admitting for once that you're human just like the rest of us and I'll welcome you to our club with open arms, and I won't pry into your dark secrets just because you have the guts to admit you might have a few. It's none of my business.

I bitch and moan alot about my personal situation; financial, political, you name it, and I have to overcome alot of guilt and restraint in order to do it. I am fully aware what this "woe is me" tendency sounds like to my audience, but I would like to point out that doing it is cathartic to me, and is not really intended to illicit any sort of sympathy. By getting it out there, I really do release it to the winds and get it off my chest for a little while if nothing else. I know that the consequence of this is that my audience has to listen to it (that is, unless they are smart enough to skim rapidly thru it to get to something juicy, sort of like fast-forwarding thru commercials), but, It's not like I'm forcing anyone to read it, it's just a component of what makes an online journal, and having read some other blogs made up almost entirely of angst, I think you're getting a real bargain here at "Dances".

Rod Stewart is on American Idol singing those oldies he took on in order to attempt to salvage his career since he blew out his vocal cords altogether. Sad. If he'd bought some cheaper drugs during the glory days maybe he'd be able to afford the lifestyle to which he became accustomed. Or maybe not. The cheap stuff had a tendency to be somewhat lethal. Alot can be said for bowing out gracefully when your talent succumbs to time, age, and hard living. Elvis could be wowing those ladies in the nursing home if he'd just retired when he should have.

One thing I would really like to impart here while I'm on a roll is addressed specifically to all those fellow bloggers whose posts I have commented on. Due to the lack of body language and facial expression that is usually a vital part of communication, my style of comment could possibly be misconstrued. I tend to have a humorous and sardonic style that can easily be taken as sarcastic or mildly negative. So, in an effort to clear up any misunderstandings that could have arisen due to my writing style, I want to assure all of you that unless I clearly and concisely state in plain, understandable english that YOU ARE SOME KIND OF FUCKING DICKWEED, I have never in any way ever meant that to be construed from any comment I ever made on your blog. I am usually smiling like a fool when I comment on your excellent work, so please picture me doing so whenever you read my comments, because frankly, if I actually felt the need to sound mean or condescending in a reply, you'd know it. Believe me. You'd know it. Yes, Tim, even you. hehe Even when you select few that I faithfully read say something I don't exactly agree with, you have already earned my respect as someone who has something of value to impart, or else I wouldn't be reading your blogs. Bob only knows what keeps those 4 faithful, maybe 9 not so faithful, fans of mine coming back to this place, but I do appreciate it. If Tim can lose out to cheese, of all things, I can feel good about losing out to Tim. He's earned each and every one of his faithful readers. As have all of you who garner such great comment responses. And no, I am not depending on comments to prop up my self-esteem; I am fully aware that I might possibly be the most outstanding blogger the world has yet to discover, so, just like playing the lottery, I may not win, but SOMEBODY will, and who knows, it might be me some day. When hell freezes over.

Wait, I'm not finished yet. I want to include a pasted article I ran across that really pisses me off. I swear to Bob, if ANY one of you EVER buys one of these TV sets that has this feature in it, I will give up you altogether. There's a limit to how much I think any rational being should put up with. Read this and be afraid....be VERY afraid.......



The advert enforcer

If a new idea from Philips catches on, the company may not be very popular with TV viewers. The company's labs in Eindhoven, The Netherlands, has been cooking up a way to stop people changing channels to avoid adverts or fast forwarding through ads they have recorded along with their target programme.
 

The secret, according to a new patent filing, is to take advantage of Multimedia Home Platform - the technology behind interactive television in many countries around the world. MHP software now comes built into most modern digital TV receivers and recorders. It looks for digital flags buried in a broadcast, and displays messages on screen that let the viewer call up extra features, such as additional footage or information about a programme.

Philips suggests adding flags to commercial breaks to stop a viewer from changing channels until the adverts are over. The flags could also be recognised by digital video recorders, which would then disable the fast forward control while the ads are playing.

Philips' patent acknowledges that this may be "greatly resented by viewers" who could initially think their equipment has gone wrong. So it suggests the new system could throw up a warning on screen when it is enforcing advert viewing. The patent also suggests that the system could offer viewers the chance to pay a fee interactively to go back to skipping adverts.

Lest you thought I was going soft in my old age........

I have been remiss. I apologize. I realize that an important component of this blog has been neglected during my adventures with html, piles of leaves, and other such distractions. So, I present for your digestion a fresh political rant, hot off the grill with all the trimmings.


I've been reading some interesting posts lately concerning the standard one-liner that redneck, uneducated (obviously), uninformed, and so-called patriotic good old boys use when confronted with differing opinions concerning the state of our union. You've all heard it, that all purpose, "If you don't like it here, just LEAVE!" Ahhhhh, yes, that is the kind of answer that covers all the bases and cuts off any hope of intelligent discussion right at the knees. Well, I have decided that although this lame retort that only a simple minded moron could come up with is beneath anyone with a lick of sense, it DOES seem to be the perfect fuel if one decided to fight fire with fire. So, in response, since anything resembling coherent reasoning would be wasted on these individuals, I give you "NO, Dickweed, I LIKE it here just FINE; it's YOU who fucking need to leave, before you and your fascist friends totally destroy what's left of this great country!"

Well, I do admit, the word "fascist" might only confuse him. But hey, the poor sap is confused already. You might wonder why the popularity of anal sex is on the rise in this country. Well, who's been bending over and begging to get it in the rear for the last 6 years? Not me, my friend. Nope. If I wanted it up the wazoo, I'd have to get in line behind millions of god-fearing patriotic Americans of the "conservative" persuasion, who can't seem to get enough of it. Raise my taxes and lower those of the rich and connected? SURE, bend me over! Reverse decades of progress towards protecting the environment? HELL YEA, what the hell we need trees and wild animals for anyway? Operate the government in the shadows, only responding with asinine spin to whatever the press has to dig up concerning what our own government is doing to us as well as our "enemies"? DAMN STRAIGHT! I don't need to know all that stuff, as long as I get to drive my pick-em-up truck to Walmart and buy me all that Chinese made stuff! Send my job overseas so some oppressed third world worker can do it for pennies a day? That's what I got my unemployment for, yessiree!

Fully half of the citizens of this nation don't deserve to be. They are lazy. They are slavish to an ideal that doesn't exist in reality. It's taken the deaths of quite a few sons and daughters for many of them to think maybe they don't like what this president is doing. These are the kinds of people who are motivated only by personal tragedy. They watch what goes on around them and can't see it, the denial is so strong. You have to hit them upside the head with a two by four before they will believe that a two by four actually exists. They hate themselves and their miserable lives so much they need someone else to focus their frustrations on, and this president knew exactly how to distract them from what he's doing to them.

So, go ahead, suggest that I leave my beloved country, and I'll suggest right back that I'm not going anywhere. It's YOU, you ignorant SOB that needs to leave.
May I suggest Serbia. Serbs love their strong men. Serbs hide their heads in the sand better than anybody. Serbs are the definition of denial. They would welcome your clueless mindsets with open arms. They have no concept of what a freely elected democratic system of government is, and don't WANT to know. Or, if you are really feeling lucky, move to Russia, which more closely resembles the kind of government you honestly think we should be living under. They don't like the free press in Russia. They don't want to have to pay the price for freedom. Putin knows that and is slowly but surely giving them back what they once lived under in the old Soviet Union. So, no, my redneck republican "christian" friend, you can pack YOUR bags and get the hell out of here, I'm friggin tired of you and you're simple minded sheep herd mentality.

Unfortunately, those who worship King Dubya wouldn't make it halfway through this rant before their eyes glazed over and their brains seized up like an old Harley with a slow oil leak. Such concepts are beyond their grasp. It's the year 2006 and this is what our public education system has wrought. Well, I can't totally blame the school system, as I was taught for much of my young life in the Mississippi public school system, in the sixties, no less, yet despite that, grew up with an open mind capable of learning and questioning and still capable of separating obvious fact from propagandic fiction. But in today's world, with the internet and 57 flavors of media, there's no excuse for so many peoples' apparent inability to be so sorely lacking in critical thinking skills. But, here we are, sliding down the banister right back into the middle ages, and as long as we have a congress without a spine, a simple minded puppet with his finger on our nuclear button, and a populace without the guts to stand up and fight for what's right, we have only ourselves to blame when it comes time to flee this country rather than swear an oath to Haliburton.

Rant over. I now return you to your favorite sitcom. Enjoy.

Testing, one, two, three.....is this thing on?

Whenever a submarine comes out of an overhaul in drydock, or has just been launched, the crew takes her on a "shakedown cruise". This is necessary to work out all the kinks before she goes fully operational. Well, folks, welcome to the shakedown of THE Michael's very first audio blog post! Batton down the hatches, shut those screen doors, take a seat up front where that big picture window...........no....wait.....I was having a "Voyage to the bottom of the Sea" moment there.......no, folks, REAL submarines don't have picture windows up front.



To boldly go where this blog has never gone before, I decided to offer up THE Michael's one and only hit single, which unfortunately was overshadowed by that powerhouse hair/metal/spinal tap wanna be seventies rock band, Deep Purple. I've hated that color ever since. It took me a long time to crawl back out of the gutter after THAT debacle! Remember, never write your lyrics down on a napkin in a bar, especially when you're listening to some long haired dweeb complaining about how hard it is to get a gig.

So, without further adau, I introduce to you a blast from the past, a solid gold nugget performed for your enjoyment by none other than THE Michael! (No one was severely injured during the recording of this performance, as the studio was heavily soundproofed and the surrounding area evacuated by National Guard Troops, under the mistaken impression that a highly classifed acoustic weapon was being tested)

Just click on this thingy down here and enjoy.....or endure.....or laugh......or whatever effect this has on you. You DID sign the waver, right?

Smoke on the Water (the lost recordings)

P.S. I have to give full credit to Amber, who made all this possible. That's right, folks, it's Ambers' fault. She showed me how. She's responsible. Run, Amber, Run!

Bells and Whistles

Ladies and germs, I have committed a grievous error. When I alluded to the artistic talent of my grandson Nathan as applies to the artwork he helped create on the garden shed, I neglected to give equal credit to his mother, my daughter, who upon viewing said post was somewhat peeved to have no mention in the creation of this outdoor masterpiece. In order to make amends, I am providing photographic evidence that she participated in the creation of this mural.

Now, in doing so, I had to provide some creative censorship in order not to reveal something that occurs when women wearing hip hugger pants squat down close to the ground. Yes, guys, I know, you are moaning even now as I rob you of the sight, but the ladies will only be thinking how kind and considerate I am to not embarrass her.....although frankly I rather enjoyed taking the picture......hmmmm.....perhaps I'm burying myself deeper even as I dig my way out, so I will shut up now......hehe.

Moving on......I have been working diligently on putting together an audio supplement to my already first rate blog. Alright, second rate. Third rate? I have the major components necessary to make this happen, all I need do now is figure out how to put them altogether so that they actually work, in the fashion that many of you already have heard with Amber's blog, if you have been fortunate enough to have discovered her and her equally talented husbands work. A few of my "fans" have expressed a desire to hear my voice. The road to perdition is littered with the victims of those whose overwhelming desire to hear my voice was granted. So, before you click that link, may I suggest that you ask yourself one question....Do you REALLY want to hear my voice? You've been warned. I can't promise when this is actually going to occur, since it takes me awhile to connect the dots, as the header of "Dances with Leaves" so clearly demonstrates. Perhaps you can view the delay as a Bob-given reprieve from the madness you might descend into once I DO connect these dots and unleash my voice upon the world.

Oh, and it IS possible that I might talk the wife into participating in this endeavor. I have to be honest here and inform you that the wife is not a big fan of this idea. Yes, she has used this computer to good effect to research her Wiccan ideals, but other than that, she considers just about anything else I do with it as..........perhaps "silly", "dumb", "obsessive", and "a total waste of time" would be very good adjectives she would apply to my uses of it. Sigh......many of you wives and girlfriends out there have embraced the wonder of this medium with as much gusto as your significant others of the male persuasion, and I salute you for that. In my case, other than participating in my wife's many projects around the house and with her Wiccan ways, this computer and the things I strive to enjoy on it are all I seem to have left these days to keep from going utterly insane. It allows me to exercise my mind and visit other worlds I would not otherwise be able to. Sometimes this world of mine and all it's attendant problems just close in on me and I need at least one window to the outside in order to breath. Not that I have anything here to escape; no my friends, I'm sticking it out with this love of mine to the bitter end, and sharing my life with her is anything BUT bitter. So, hopefully, this audio endeavor will include my better half, and as funny as she can be, it will be that much better for it.

Please excuse our mess..........

DON'T PANIC!!!! There is some construction going on in the header, which we here at Pendragonhold hope to get cleaned up shortly. In our never ending quest to serve our customers better, we make the occasional mess, and we apologize for any emotional damage you may incur by these disruptions. However, if this explanation is not enough to satisfy your delicate mental condition, we will be more than happy to refund everything you paid* to visit this wonderful blog of ours.




*Refund offer does not include taxes, tips, postage, fees, handling, gratuities, bribes, slush fund monies, kickbacks, commissions, pain and suffering, or anything of value, voided or prohibited, in any of the contiguous fifty states, Canada, or that itty-bitty country tucked into the side of France where all those rich people park their yachts.

Spring has sprung, and other weird tales.........

Sometime awhile back, someone, either Bill Gates or aliens, installed a whole bank of micro hard drives somewhere in my brain. Every now and then, some key word boots one of these little bastards and prompts me to go off on some specific tangent. I cannot prove that this is actually my excuse for the stuff I write, but after I croak, I've instructed the wife to release the autopsy results with the accompanying note; "I told you so!"

Today's key word was part of a reply to one of my comments on Tim's blog, that key world being "eclectic". So, you guessed it, today's post is a cornucopia of unrelated nuggets sauteed in an eclectic sauce, served up for your consumption.



My favorite color has erupted all around us here at Pendragon Hold; springtime green. Not that dull uninteresting green that the summer heat bakes into submission; no my friends, this is the color of new life bursting forth into the world!













Next we have an aerial shot of luxurious Lake Stinkapuei. Lake Stinkapuei is unique in that it is the only lake that appears and disappears with strange regularity, usually closely connected with such activities as dishwashing, bathing, and clothes-washing. The waters are thought to be magical, as they lend a rich and somewhat pungent aroma to the air, and the plant life on the banks of this lake is the greenest and most luxurious in the entire area. This lake is so popular with some tribes of fairies that they have built their own unique resort hotel on the banks of the Lake, painted blue of all things. So, for a truly unique adventure, be sure to stop by and visit this wonderful place. Believe me, it's an experience you will not soon forget!



I might have mentioned that my wife is very creative. So creative, in fact, she has created a work of art out of our normally staid and boring tool shed. Now, I have to give some artistic credit to our grandson Nathan, who has demonstrated a budding artistic ability, and who created the drawing of the dragon on the left door. Next we'll be painting a mural of the Mona LIsa with a joint in her mouth on the roof, visible only to DEA planes looking for the infrared signature of hothouses. Won't it be funny if they raid us and haul off our goat's hay to be tested! I'll expect that hay back, of course, with some alfalfa thrown in for damages, and maybe a few bags of sweet feed for pain and suffering. I'm easy..........




Ever wonder what a witch's alter looks like? So do we, but this will do until someone comes along and shows us what it REALLY is supposed to look like. Sorry, but no golden calves or alters suitable for the sacrifice of virgins. Not enough room.














This is photographic evidence that colors other than green, white, and brown exist on our property. It's called a F L O W E R, and yes, they CAN grow here.








Last but not least, is a photo of my wife's wonderful culinary efforts, my favorite dish, and proof that this woman really does love me.








So, that's today's post from Pendragon Hold. Be well and blessed be!

Mad Dogs and HTML

HTML.........it doesn't exactly roll off the tongue, does it? For some strange reason, probably having to do with geek witchcraft, this incantation can do remarkable things, but only in the virtual world, and only if you know it's mystical meanings and the proper way to cast it. One strange symbol placed out of order can spell disaster, which in this case is frustratingly nothing after a series of convoluted maneuvers that would drive a madman sane.

I have become so jealous of all these souls out here in cyberland who have been able to dress up the title of their blogs with wonderful pictures. Some I imagine have been able to do it by virtue of the blogging entity they chose to host their works of literary art on, that capability having been built into it so that anybody can do it as easy as typing in their posts. Blogger, however, curse them, has not seen fit to provide an easy way to incorporate a photo into the title field of their blog templates. I know there is some magical way to accomplish this, for I have seen it here on my own computer thanks to the able assistance of Shandi, the wonder woman of blogging. However, I have yet to fathom the typographical difference between what she managed to get into her heading and that of the html I came up with when I used the same convoluted method recommended. I may have to shave my head before I begin to rip my hair out by the roots!

Our mighty potentate, Tim, ex of Elvis, Lord of photoshop manipulation, has provided me plenty of motivation by virtue of his taunts...."The secret is revealed in the layers, Michael, the LAYERS........", he cackled, in his virtual maniacal voice. I'd bitch-slap him, the cad, but he'd cry like a girl, and then run off to attack some innocent reproduction of a dutch windmill somewhere, in a vain attempt to regain his manhood. That would simply be too terrible a sight to see, and never let it be said that THE Michael is not a kind and benevolent soul who would want to be held responsible for such a tragedy. However, I must interject here that I like and respect Tim immensely, so that he will not take what I just said seriously and get medieval on my ass. Oh hell, what if Tim didn't get this far before rushing out the door to hunt me down? Tim? TIM?

While I await my fate at the hand of virtual royalty, I must say that the challenge presented me by this new technology has probably kept my brain exercised just enough to prevent a more rapid decline into feeblemindedness. That has to be a good thing considering how many brain cells must have already met their untimely demise at the hands of intellectual sloth. I suppose something accomplished too easily is not worth what little effort was expended upon it.

Dear Shandi has been most kind to this clueless one, and is doing her best to help me with my endeavor to deliver you, my loyal fans, a richer visual experience when you hit that link and peer into the twisted mind of this man and his poor family (poor as in having had the misfortune of having me as the defender of the family honor, which may very well be auctioned off on eBay in a desperate attempt to keep us afloat). I've thrown you guys goats, septic tanks, dead cars, witchcraft, and other such wonderment, but I can hear you out there chanting "More, more, more!!!!" Ah, the pressure mounts, but hey, dammit, I can take it. Hell, I personally, singlehandedly, brought the Soviets to their knees, hiked thru the wilds of Alaska barefoot in the snow, uphill, dragging sled dogs, and survived by my wits in the midsts of an acre of sand in the backwoods of Florida, fighting off mosquitos, fire-ants, heat, humidity, palmetto bushes, redneck neighbors, and hungry goats. Anybody who can accomplish all that despite rejection letters from MENSA as well as the Charles Atlas body building and self-esteem course should have no problem accidently stumbling across the solution to this nagging problem.
Either that, or Shandi, bless her, will ultimately solve my problem for me and I will return and edit this post to eliminate any evidence that I was having any real problems to begin with, instead heralding my brilliant triumph over digital gobbledygook while giving full credit to Shandi somewhere deep in the fine print.

As for the rest of the news.......nothing happened since I last posted. Nothing at all. Well, maybe some things, but nothing you'd want to know about. Really. I'm hiding the truth for your own protection. You'll thank me one day when the unauthorized biography is written that reveals all the shocking details.

Oh, wait, there IS one minor detail to report. Another mouth to feed has been foisted upon us by the Good twin and her hot-wheels husband due to his unfortunate new allergy to cats. Cricket has been with my daughter for going on more than ten years now and now resides with us, and is settling into her new home quite nicely. She is so far spurning any advances by Shilo to get to know her, but I'm sure she'll come around in time. Shiloh is one patient and very friendly dog. Tuvac, our other inside cat, could care less and has done his usual excellent job of totally ignoring the intruder upon his domain. Which is good, because they would both look rather pathetic bitch-slapping each other with their de-clawed paws. Now, the fact does remain that Tuvac is a male, and cricket is female, so despite his arrogance, I'm sure he must be smelling things that awakens that true casanova inside, despite the fact that he is fixed. Time will tell, but all told I'm somewhat hoping that Tuvac simply turned gay after all this time in an effort to cope.

So, I have gleefully wasted another five minutes of your precious time, and hope this fresh assault upon your sensibilities has only whetted your appetite for further abuse at the hands of my next post. You see, masochism isn't such a bad thing after all, now is it? Just ask all my subby fans who keep coming back for more!

Bell well, all, and blessed be!

AND NOW FOR SOMETHING COMPLETELY...........INSANE?

Ladies and germs, today is a landmark day in the evolution of my blog. After a perfectly harmless post concerning my annual battle with the evil spawn of trees, a fantastic idea for a more appropriate name for my blog was introduced by none other than Lord Tim , our fairly flatulent friend with airs of royalty. (I swear to Bob I had no premeditation on that pun, it just happened, but I'm sticking with it).

My blog has been a mixture of political commentary, reporting on the aggravatingly obvious, expressions of outrage over cruel injustice, and peeks into the darkness of my sick mind, sprinkled here and there with reports from the home-front, however mediocre it tends to be. However, without her even realizing it, my wife is an important contributor to much of the material in this blog, both for her insights concerning our lives, and the richness she lends to my existence. There has been many a time I wished I had a sound recorder going on 24/7 in this household to catch some of the comedy that goes on between us, material perfect for this blog or perhaps even a pod-cast. She is convinced she has no ability to write, and so far I haven't been able to convince her to at least take a shot at her own posts, but I am more than happy to pass on the nuggets her creative and quite funny mind produces here at the hold. So, since in many ways, as I have just described, this is really a cooperative effort, and I want to lend her the credit she so richly deserves for her contributions. Besides, all anybody seems to comment on is the relationship I have with her, even though I never consciously tried to highlight that. I guess the love is just that obvious.

Although I have changed the title of the blog, the content will not change drastically. I will still go off on my occasional rants. I will preach the righteousness of my own personal beliefs, and boldly attack those of others whom I feel are complete idiots and richly deserve it. I will continue to invite the ire of the NSA and homeland security, for I swore an oath once to protect and defend the constitution of the United States of America, from enemies both foreign AND domestic. However, in a desperate attempt not to lose the few loyal and dedicated readers I DO have, I will continue to report on the happenings here at Pendragon Hold, embellishing and enhancing the mundane occurrences here as needed in order to continue to hold your attention. However, this blog IS produced under a tight budget, so if you wish for it to compete with the likes of Tim and his photoshop resplendent masterpieces, you'll have to all get together and sell cookies or something and buy me my own copy of Photoshop Elements for the Mac. And yes, you can add "shameless" to my long list of lovable attributes.

In closing, I would like to thank Lord Tim for his excellent idea, if only to deflect the blame entirely upon him should this gambit fail. I would like to thank all my commenters, the one's who have stuck with me through thick and thin, as well as the new ones who crept in and became addicted to my personal magnetism. You have my condolences, but I'm keeping you just the same. I want to thank Buffalo for finally getting off his duff and taking his remarkable show on the road, and pray I have rum on hand should he stop by, and I want to thank Shandi for not abandoning us in our hours of need when she wanted to just fade off into the sunset. And Lights, if you don't get your ass back on line and blog, I swear I'm gonna track you down and expose you as the insidious perverter of Dr Suess that you really are. Cherish, gina, littleone, and all my sweet subby friends........thanks for your nurturing words of encouragement and making me realize all the good things I continue to enjoy. And last but not least, I want to thank Bob, who never, ever makes me feel guilty about ANYthing.

Good night, and blessed be.

Lord of the Leaves

For those of my loyal readers who have patiently awaited the exciting episode I HAVE to get around to writing sooner or later, your patience is about to be asked to stick around for a little longer. Today, the yard, covered in leaves, huge piles of leaves, small piles of leaves, huge spans of sand still covered in layers of leaves yet to be raked up, and mixtures of both, thanks to the habit of trees to dump on your nicely raked ground after you've raked it up, ruled the day. A man might be master of his domain, but today the leaves turned the tables.

Now, being a guy, and a husband, I would be more than happy to just let sleeping leaves lie. Hey, they are all going to break down and rot and return to the earth anyway, eventually, right? After all they've been through, who am I to go shoving them around, piling them on top of each other, and then feeding them down the throat of some gasoline powered monster, only to go spreading their poor shredded remains back on the ground anyway? I sometimes wonder what their parents, the trees from which they were shed, are thinking as they witness this horror?

There's no lawn here at Pendragon hold that needs to be uncovered; nope, nothing but sand, with a scattering of weeds attempting to get past the hungry predation of our goats. The front of the house has something resembling a lawn, only because it's not fenced off and subject to the oppression of eating machines that are capable of committing plant genocide. I never have to actually mow it anymore. A day of grazing controls the growth quite nicely. The trick is tying those four legged lawnmowers out on lines in such a precise way as to allow them access to what I WANT them to eat, while keeping them away from those lucky plants I don't want them to murder. So, sometimes, a mechanical trim is in order to take care of those areas, which sometimes resembles voting districts drawn up by republicans.

Well, the wife's shade garden has a remarkable appetite for mulch. The leaf mulch does an excellent job of keeping down the weeds and vines and other nasty little things that thrive in this sort of environment. Plants we LIKE, for one reason or another, haven't a banana split's chance in hell of surviving without lots of compost and manure as well as water. Sand only supports rather aggravating kinds of plant life, like palmetto bushes, and thorny vines and such horrors. It was probably Florida's attempt to make humans want to take one look and go back where they came from, but alas, it didn't work. Hell, even the everglades, with it's vast expanse of saw-grass and swamp, didn't stand a chance against the snowbirds determined to move away from snow and ice and build bingo halls and shuffleboards to keep them occupied while they waited to die. If nature offends thee, pave it over!

Well, here at Pendragon hold, we have a truce with Mother Nature. We just tidy the place up a bit, not dumping tons of fertilizers and poisons on it in order to artificially prop up some foreign ecosystem that couldn't exist here otherwise. We get our water from an onsite well, and anything that percolates down through this sand is going to eventually end up in the drinking water. Unfortunately, this gives those damn fire-ants the upper hand around here, so the best I can do for now is hose their mounds away from places I don't want them, although I sometimes break down and dust those bastards with the bare minimum of ant killer, praying it will break down before polluting the ground water. And, we compost EVERYTHING that can possibly be composted, and return it to the earth whenever we garden or plant things.

This place overall is not pretty, at least not compared to the manicured lawns of the gated communities surrounding us. And thanks to the poisonous overkill needed in order to maintain those pretty little lawns, the St Johns River here in NorthEast Florida is starting to get choked with huge algae blooms every summer, having been overloaded with runoff rich in nutrients. Me, personally, I am rather proud to live on this acre of sand, sans the lawn, in favor of just getting along with Mother Nature, perfect green outdoor carpets be damned. It's hard enough work just dealing with this place on it's own terms; I would already be worn down physically and bankrupt if I attempted to turn this entire acre into a putting green.

I don't really feel like I OWN this place. I'm in reality more of a guest. Until the mortgage, if ever, is paid off, I can't even claim to be a home OWNER anyway. If either one of us lost our jobs, we'd be back to filling out applications to live in some tight little box six inches from equally oppressed neighbors, and the very idea of that happening strikes terror into my heart. While I have the honor and privilege of living on this little acre of sand, I am going to at least try to honor it by providing stewardship that doesn't include bringing nature to it's knees. Many years from now this place may be totally paved over after some developer drives the tenants away to build something that has no need to be here, but until then, I will not insult this land which for 6 years has nurtured me, my wife, and my family.

Back to the leaves. I managed today to eliminate another very large pile of those suckers, and I paid dearly for it. I am sore. My head and upper respiratory system is asking me what the hell happened. I ache. I am tired. Of course, the wife, being a woman, was out there with me, raking in the new mulch I was producing, and I can't honestly say she didn't work as hard as I did, perhaps even more, but true to the nature of women, she is in the kitchen preparing dinner for me and the kids who are coming to visit tonight, as though she had spent the day at a spa or something. How do they do it? Is it strictly lazy and wimpy me, or are you other husbands familiar with this strange species of amazon rabbit that embraces work so insidiously? Bob bless em, though, I am not complaining. I'm too tired. And hungry. And despite that deep seated resentment I KNOW lies within her heart as she takes care of me, I also know a measure of love compensates for that understandable feeling, and I am blessed, and will be well taken care of. What more can a guy ask for?

The Return of Mr. Brandon

Hello guys. For those fans of that "other blog", I have found the time for a new installment. You know where the link is. Enjoy.

And you thought I was a NICE guy...........

I'm not exactly sure what people think of me overall as a human being based on what I have said in my blog. For the most part I think I'm fairly likable. Even those who have had direct contact with me pretty much give me the benefit of the doubt. Ah, but there are dark things beneath this teddy bear exterior. I was reading Amber's husband Dan's blog about end-of-the-world fantasies and how some of us have this deep seated longing for it to all end, with us and the one's we care about intact, of course. I understood where he was coming from. That alone would scare alot of people. But let me explore my own take on apocalypse and see if you still think I'm a decent human being. This might take some deep thought, so don't rush to judgment. Hear me out.

I have daydreamed on occasion that a plague of all plagues swept over this world and took out at least 90% of the population. And I have done so not with horror, but with longing. That, on the face of it, would rate me up there with Hitler and Stalin as personalities go. And that is perfectly understandable. But like I said before, bear with me.

For at least the last third of my life on this Earth I have not been a particular fan of the Human race as species go. Before we came along, it was survival of the fittest, and no one species consciously thought of doing evil to any other beyond what was naturally necessary to survive. Big fish ate little fish, and that was it. Nothing sinister there, my friends, all in balance. Then a light bulb lit up over some monkey's head, and it went downhill from there.

Intelligence is a wonderful thing. It produces art, music, love, bravery, good deeds, and some damn good alcoholic beverages. However, on the flip side, it has also brought the world clear-cutting, pollution, greed, war, genocide, Walmart, violence simply for the sake of violence, taxes, Jerry Springer, the Windows operating system, George Bush, and Tammy Fae Baker. Every other living thing in this world operates within a system of checks and balances, predator versus prey, etc. Mankind has no predator. Mankind has no checks, save himself.

To make things worse, somehow evolution came up with a "God" gene, and once that one kicked in, things really went to hell in a hand-basket. It was bad enough that we preyed on each other to get a leg up, but once we convinced ourselves that invisible men in the sky were cheering our bad behaviors on, we really took our ability to destroy everything in our path to heart. We got smarter.....we embraced science along with religion and devised new and exciting ways to kill each other and anything else that got caught in the cross fire. With friends like ourselves, who in the hell needs enemies?

I understand the basic nature of man, and left to it's own devices, that nature is not something you turn your back on. Even my own disdain for my own race could be viewed as less than noble. But I have to be honest with you......should some alien ambassador approach me with the idea of keeping mankind under it's thumb for our own sake as well as that of this beautiful planet of ours, I would get Benedict Arnold in a second. I think the worst possible thing that could happen to the universe, and all those life-forms that must exist out there in that vast wonder, would be for the human race to discover a faster-than-light drive for starships, as in Star Trek or all those other stories that conveniently bypass the laws of physics as we know them. You think manifest destiny was a crock here in America, imagine that concept on a much grander scale. It would NOT be pretty.

So, back to the great near extinction event. Why, if I claim to be a decent human being, would I advocate the deaths of millions of innocent men, women and children? Well, to even conceive of such a thing, you have to have accepted that it is already happening, and has for quite some time. How many famines have you witnessed from the comfort and well-fed safety of your living rooms via your television sets? How many episodes of genocide have you seen our government and governments around the world allow to happen without lifting a finger? Were we not complicit in all these horrible happenings by not demanding with the utmost outrage that our leaders put an immediate stop to such atrocities? You know it, and I know it; we are quite capable of sitting by while millions of innocent people die, not by natural causes, but by the horrific capabilities of evil men.

Haven't you noticed that despite all these plagues, wars, genocide's, famines, you name it, this race of ours STILL continues to grow by staggering numbers? And hasn't it been painfully obvious that this world of ours is NOT growing in diameter in order to accommodate all these masses of hungry mouths? Is the natural world SO removed from your living rooms that you can't see how fast it's getting paved over? And is all this horror OK with you?

No, I do not wish death and destruction to rain down upon my neighbors. But it already is, my friends, and even now we are starting to see the effects of the worst of our considerable influence on this planet. And there is no other way that I can think of that will have any effect on us as a cancer upon this globe. We must for once in our long history truly become part of the natural world, including it's checks and balances. SOMETHING has to be higher up than us on the food chain. And that thing is that microscopic little wonder known as the virus.

Even now we are fighting a losing battle with bacteria, which thanks to the very real process of evolution, is becoming resistant to our chemical weapons known as antibiotics. We are poisoning our land, our water, and our food, which in turn is breaking down our natural resistance to our environment. And now comes the Avian flu, which is just a few mutations away from becoming the next great pandemic. Do you really think, after Katrina, that we are going to handle that one any better? I still have a few bridges to sell if you do.

So, Michael, you evil little selfish man, you'd love to become that survivalist, holed up in some bunker until the nightmare subsides and you can come forth with your friends and loved ones and rule the world.........that's what you're thinking, huh? Sorry, but no. I have no more right to be a survivor of such a cleansing than anyone else, and there's precious little chance I would survive anyway. I know that. No, I don't wish it upon my loved ones either. But Mother Nature never has, never will show favoritism to any living thing. That I respect. It's the natural order of things, or at least the way it used to be.

So, when all is said and done, what I am suggesting, and long for, is that this wonderful planet somehow get a breather, a chance to heal itself before Man in all his glory utterly devastates it. God is not going to come down and clean up this mess for us, my friends. No one gets out of here alive.

I hope my honesty does not disturb you. THE Michael will not be an instrument of any of these possibilities. That is far beyond anyone's capabilities, save some brilliant geneticist working feverishly in some secret lab somewhere. I hope you all live long and productive lives. Just understand that in my humble, if twisted, opinion, we all exceed our rightful place in the great circle of life, and if we cannot find some shame in that, then we fall prey to our own righteousness.

AND THE HITS KEEP COMING..........or not.......

Well, gang, I finally, FINALLY installed a hit counter on MM&M. As I type this up, the grand total is 56. Yes, 56. Since yesterday. I have no idea whether or not this is a very good, average, or pathetic number, as blog hits go. But, what does bother me is that the most number of comments I can expect at any given time is about seven (as compared to Buffalo and Tim's average of 5987), so when you cast that 56 against 7, well, that's 49 people who passed on by with nary a comment. Every once in awhile I might get a comment from someone I do not previously remember hearing from, but overall my fan base would not populate even the smallest banana republic. Or a nightclub. Or a closet. Sigh.

I thought perhaps a niche blog would perhaps draw more attention. So I created the Adventures of an Alter Ego. That is pretty damn niche if you ask me. Well, so much for that idea. Only my hard core niche minded friends showed up, and even then the reviews were mixed, which only proves that even a niche blog requires exceptional talent to draw in the numbers. That, and Photoshop.

Speaking of photoshop, I am beginning to equate that wondrous tool of artistic manipulation with steroids. That's right. Pumped up blogs that might not get quite the attention if it wasn't for the high tech intervention. Now, before the howling begins, I want to assure you that I am not directly referring to our friend Tim-Elvis when I make this point. I think his would stand quite well on it's own even without the digital slight-of-hand. Buffalo is proving that with every post; the man don need no stinkin' photoshop.

I was also beginning to think that perhaps relying on my life as a template for a blog was a big mistake. The things that happen to me are about as quant and common as lives go, and I can understand why my posts aren't exactly adventure material. I go nowhere, I do nothing, and I write about it. Another words, I write about basically nothing. It's no wonder this blog suffers so.

However, I DO have a secret weapon. I could pull this high-calibre, multi-megaton warhead out at any time and the content of MM&M would suddenly get a whole lot steamier. Trouble is, I would be straying across borders that need not be crossed. Every couple, or one of a couple, that decides to lay it all out to the world has to decide every day, every post exactly how much he/she/they wish to reveal without exposing something that might come back to bite them in the ass. The relationship I have with my wife is a fine example of this. I love this woman. I think you all know that. So whenever I write about US, I have to take into account that she is not exactly a big fan of revealing things that many other couples who blog seem willing to do. And I can understand that. I watch these hollywood gossip shows on television and sometimes I yell back at the screen, "Who GIVES a FUCK who's doing who? I Don't FRIGGIN CARE!" So, although the generic posts concerning the goings-on here at Pendragon hold are usually mild and slightly interesting, they do respect both hers and my privacy to a certain extent. Not that we are rubber clad swingers who have a thing for Ethiopian midgets who recite Shakespeare, or anything like that (exactly....hehe), but for now at least, my need for ratings has not and I do not think it will reach the point that you'll be peeking under anyone's skirt anytime soon, subject wise.

So, if anything, the hit counter only proves that the fans I DO have seem to have become comfortable with what I am able to deliver. I will do my best to find ways to improve my blog, but my resources are limited, as is my natural talent. Thank you for sticking with me, friends, and thank you for sharing YOUR lives with me in those fashions that YOU find comfortable.

Passing into Valhalla

Today brings more loss to our family. The wife's older brother and uncle to our twins, Conrad, has passed on after a hard life that finally surrendered to cancer. I personally did not know nor have I ever met Conrad, but my impression was that he was the hard-bitten, lived as he wished road warrior of the clan. The pictures I have seen of him remind me of the Buffalo in many ways, and I think they may have well have been cut from the same clothe. He died with no shame for how he lived his life, which is well and good, for he faced his end exactly how he wished. In retrospect I kinda wished I had gotten to know him.

This has had a profound effect upon the matriarc of the family, who has lost two children in the course of a year. Nothing pains a parent more than to outlive their son's and daughters. Most of us are in agreement that this woman may very well outlive us all, for despite all the assaults that age and loss have bestowed upon her, she puts the ever-ready bunny to shame. As in just about every family, their are histories that haunt us all, but when Bob embraces us and removes us from our family, it still effects us, and we do not take the loss lightly.

In speaking of this loss, I also introduce the "coming out" of my daughter Holly, whom I have lovingly referred to as "The Evil Twin". I assure you all, and her, that she is anything but evil. She has had her trials and tribulations, her hurts and her pains, and just as I knew deep down from the very first time I met her, she has grown, has overcome, and the essence that makes her the unique and loving individual that she truly is comes shining through as she faces her life with courage and determination. If I had to pick a favorite between her and her Sister, the so-called "Good Twin", I could not do so, for they are two sides to one wonderful coin that I carry in my heart with much love and pride. Their Mother, my Wife, sure does good work, if I may say so myself. They both have made a Father out of me, and for that I owe them so much.

Holly took this opportunity to start her own blog, which opens with a poetic tribute to her Uncle. Her natural talent with words only enhances the emotion her post delivers. Please go hit the link "RideIntoTheSun", and I think you will agree.

By his own request, there will not be a formal service for Conrad. He asked to be cremated, and for his ashes to be taken to Holly, Michigan, from whence the clan originated, and spread upon a lake there. His son Michael will carry out his wishes this spring. The wife will pay her own tribute in our Pagan fashion, wishing him a fine place at the great hall of Valhalla, where all true warriors go when their battles are over.

Leaves, leaves, and more leaves.......

It was another pleasant day at Pendragon Hold. The weather was perfect. We went to Lowes to pick up the first box of vinyl tiles, but upon examination and pricing of all the prep stuff you have to lay down over this base floor before you lay down the tiles, it occurred to us that we would end up paying the same if not more for the tiles than if we just went with the cheapest laminate wood flooring. This stuff just snaps together seamlessly and requires only a padded underlay at the most. So, we decided to go with the wood flooring, and got a box for only 96 (dammit, were IS that damn cent key?!?) per square foot. The big risk we are taking is that this particular color of wood will run out before we purchase enough to cover the floor, but we are just keeping our fingers crossed that if that does happen, we will be able to find a close enough match that it won't be all that noticeable. Pity we can't afford to buy it all at once.

Yesterday I dragged out the shredder and began the process of converting all these humongous piles of leaves into mulch and compost. I took the deflector off and am letting the shredded material blow into the vegetable garden area, which via the wonderful process of gravity versus weight and velocity, throws the lighter and dryer material suitable for mulch further than the moister, denser material suitable as compost soil. It's been awhile since I've done this, so last night my sore muscles were raising hell with me for bringing them out of retirement. YOU shovel pitchforks full of leaves into a shredder chute for hours on end and tell me it isn't one hell of an upper body workout! They might as well buck up and deal with it, cause I only have something like fifteen piles to go......big piles.

Well, I work the weekend, but since the wife is still on vacation for the next two days, I get the car all to myself, without having to play auto-roulette with her. She's been keeping herself busy with her Wiccan crafts and work out in the shade garden. Tomorrow is her birthday. I ordered her a nice pendant she's been lusting after, and made her a card on the computer. I would have rather taken her to a nice spa or maybe a visit to Marine land, but that's for people with money. All we have are each other. When all is said and done, I'll take each other any day.

The Moonlight Madness, Bondage, Carpet, Compost, Solar Power, and Royalty Edition

I came across this article in the local paper, surprised as hell that a reporter, apparently having a slow day, dug this up, probably off the police blotter. Boy, it's amazing the fun stuff that goes on right under my nose.....grin. As it is here, it's hard to read, but I discovered that if you right-click on the article and open it in a seperate window, it presents large enough to read, at least in my browser. Enjoy!















It was a full moon last night, so you just KNOW where the wife and I was for most of the evening. You guessed it, out in the shade garden, conducting a full moon rite. We charged up our crystals under a bright, full moon and now we're loaded for bear! During one of our spell castings, which should have buckets of money raining down upon us fairly soon, the next door dogs decided to raise hell, attracting their owners, who I sensed where standing there watching our strange goings-on, probably wondering what sort of satanic nonsense we were up to. Sooner or later the word is going to get around our neighborhood that we're out in our backyard eating the heads off bats and sacrificing babies to the devil or something liberal like that. As long as the Sheriff's department doesn't show up wanting to search for shallow graves, I could care less what they think is going on. If someone should have the good and nosey graces to actually come up to one of us and ASK what we do, I'll reply that we are praying for all our neighbors to come to Jesus, and not realizing what I REALLY mean by that, will hopefully be satisfied. I just hope I can do it with a straight face.

I've been considering solving my septic tank problem by abandoning it altogether in favor of composting toilets. I've been studying the concepts involved and am pretty sure I can build these things myself, alot more cheaply than buying them. I am also going to divert our "grey water" towards our gardens, which will really come in handy during the summer when we tend to suffer from occasional drought conditions. At first I was thinking that all these pipes were going to be hell to access due to the insulated undercover beneath the trailer, but upon closer inspection, it appears that only the intake plumbing is above this blanket and I won't have to sweat tearing into it. The drain pipes are all easily accessible, thank Bob.

This carpet of ours is so nasty I'm sure that if I watered it, strange new mutant strains of life would grow profusely from it, and probably have us for lunch. We have decided to bite the bullet and buy a box of cheap vinyl tiles each payday till we have enough to cover the common area and rip this carpet up. The vinyl floor in our kitchen has worn beautifully, and is easy to keep clean. The carpet has not fared nearly as well, with stains, rips, things that won't vacuum up, and who knows what embedded in it that the vacuum simply won't pull out. It's probably most responsible for my wife's increasing bouts with allergies. Plus, the fact that I have vacuumed up enough dog hair to assemble a whole team of sled dogs from scratch, and you can see why I am eager to be done with it.

I wish the Federal Government was required to provide low interest loans to homeowners for the purpose of incorporating solar panels and/or solar hot water panels. Yes, I know you can get tax credits, but that only helps people who have the money to begin with. With all this sunshine we get down here, it would be nice to get off the grid entirely, and even make some cash selling electricity back to the power company. But, of course, as long as Bush and his oil company buddies control the strings, there's a snowballs chance in hell of that ever happening.

A recent report just came out that states that the earliest models of the Toyota Prius hybrid cars have already clocked over 300,000 miles on their batteries. That's pretty damn impressive if you ask me. Many people don't even get that far on an ordinary auto powered strictly by a gas engine. I wonder if those Nickel Hybrid batteries would work as well in a solar powered house? Hmmmmmm........

On the war front, Donald Duck.....I mean Rumsfield, is insisting that there is no civil war going on in Iraq. He's right, it's just the boys in the 'hood massacring each other by the scores quietly in the background rather than with full scale fire-fights in the streets. I'm sure the victims appreciate that distinction. Meanwhile, Sadam is insisting at his trial that as the President, he had every right to wipe out villages that pissed him off. He claims that the rule of law doesn't apply to him, because as president, he IS the law. Hmmmmmm.........why does that reasoning sound so familiar.......?

And now the Triple M Weather Report. If you live in the midwest, MOVE. If you live in Texas, RUN! If you live in the South East, enjoy your home while it's still standing. And remember, according to the administration, there is no such thing as global warming. This weather report was brought to you by the GOTCHABYTHEBALLS Energy Consortium, providers of obscene profits to rich investors the world over.

And now for something completely different: Seems Tim-Elvis wants to be king. Like Tom Petty once said, "It's good to be King". I wish him well in his royal quest. However, I would like to point out that if he truly wants to live an opulent lifestyle and oppress peasants, he should consider running for the Senate as a republican. Professional ass-kissers will besiege him with baskets of cash and send him on exotic all expense paid vacations to study strange new locals to export American jobs to. However, there's one major caveat; he'll have to kiss bawling babies and forego crowns, at least while on the campaign trail. And the only sword he'll encounter will be the one he'll have to fall on when he's investigated for kickbacks and campaign fraud.

Meantime, I, THE Michael, already the spiritual descendant of King Arthur, will be content to rule my tiny kingdom, until such time that all the Britons, whoever the hell THEY are, call upon me to save them from whatever it is that Britons need saving from. They did pretty well without me during the great war, so I don't expect to be bothered anytime soon.

Thus concludes another epic post from the mind of THE Michael. I hope you enjoyed this latest effort from the combined efforts of our new team, Me, Myself, and I. If you have any questions or comments, feel free to leave a message outlining in great detail just how much you enjoyed this episode so that I don't have get medieval on their asses. But, feel free to provide some mild criticisms so that I have an excuse not to give them a raise.

The Frenzy Continues.....

The cleaning frenzy continues here at Pendragon Hold. It's after 8 p.m., I've had my dinner, and the wife is still in the kitchen scouring anything with a surface to it. When this woman is on a mission....well.......

I had a fairly good day at the hospital, but my legs are still sore. I attribute that more to age and physical condition than anything. Our director, who manages both the CCU and the fourth floor, is testing out one of those robots that take things like unused drugs and labs downstairs, freeing up a gopher (I'm sorry, I meant PCT) from having to run this stuff downstairs and making them more available for patient care. I'm all for it, personally, but I have one question. How in the hell does this thing get on the elevator? I'll report back on this later.

Do any of you have faux wood vinyl flooring that you want to replace with real wood? If so, now is the perfect time to upgrade your floor! All you have to do is roll up that vinyl carefully, wrap it, and mail it to THE Michael (Address available by request), who will joyfully recycle it here on the floor of Castle Pendragon. And, if you act now, I will throw in a pictorial blog post to show how much better it looks on my floor than it did yours! (Offer void in Timbuktu, Biloxi, in zip codes ending in 666, of by persons of exceptional moral turpitude).

The evil twin has reported to us that she has acquired herself a second snake. My girls have this thing for tubular reptiles. Personally, I think there's a hidden erotic component to this, either that, or they are into sacrificing rodents. Our reptiles tend to have legs and rather interesting constructions. The first one we had was a chameleon, who eventually died of old age. The wife was always fascinated by that mile-long tongue the creature zapped it's prey with. I wonder why. Now, we have Sandy, the Leopard Gecko, who can lick his eyeballs. Wish I could.

I'm watching 24 while finishing this up. As much as I like this show, I believe there's an underlying attempt to soften up the public's aversion to torture as a method of keeping the American people safe. Jack Baur does like to torture those bad guys to get information. Wonder how many Jack Baurs we have down in Gitmo and other unknown places torturing the second cousins of someone who knew someone who prayed at a mosque that was attended by the brother in law of someone who once knew a terrorist? Makes me proud to be an American.

The tire I repaired yesterday is still holding air just fine. Another money-sucking disaster averted, at least for now.

Time to wind down. It was a pleasure talking wit ya!