*Magnify*
    May     ►
SMTWTFS
   
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
Archive RSS
SPONSORED LINKS
Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/books.php/item_id/1063327-CONVOLUTED--CONUNDRUMS--Sifting--Life/sort_by/entry_order DESC, entry_creation_time DESC/page/15
Rated: 18+ · Book · Philosophy · #1063327
Mulling, culling, and musing the confusing... in Blog format.
** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only **

** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only **          ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only **          ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only **

Monsters
Evil incarnate to their kind gives rise,
their nourishment found in blood-curdling fear;
horror-swept dreamscapes they stalk in disguise,
unleashing terror, they draw ever near.

Defiled wombs in hell to their kind give birth
to seek symbiosis with souls in need;
in lost and rejected spirits on earth ~
on their very marrow, such monsters feed.

Iced are their fingers and vacant, their stare,
black are their hearts, sustained by putrid breath;
sucking the lifeblood imperilled souls share
to spew forth their spawn of hatred and death.

But they may not linger where Faith abides...
for Hope's children fear not their raging tides.

** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only **        ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only **       ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only **

I stand in awe of life's predisposition for imploding, swiftly morphing into a churning, perilous vortex that mankind is hard-pressed to navigate, let alone survive. Maintaining a foothold and emerging from the gales unscathed seems wholly contingent upon survivors' personal philosophies, capacity for tolerance, and coping skills. Without these, the vortex becomes the portal to a toxic black void, and man stands naked in the spiralling eddy, awaiting the final flush.

The mission of this journal is to examine life issues that precipitate the storms and seek out the balms that soothe the wounds they inflict. It is my fervent hope that philosophically autopsying life issue outcomes will provide comfort in the midst of chaos and a keenly longed-for measure of inner peace.

Bear in mind, dear Reader, that the thoughts to follow are only musings and by no means assertions of right or wrong. They are but a reflection of one soul's yearning to ascend from the roots of life to its flowering branches and taste of the fruits found therein. How, if at all, savory their flavors are deemed to be and whether or not they become a staple in one's spiritual diet is left to each reader's own palate.

The journey thus begins...
 Invalid Item 
This item number is not valid.
#1134603 by Not Available.


** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only **        ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only **        ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only **

** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only **

** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only **

** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only **         ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only **         ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only **


Previous ... 11 12 13 14 -15- 16 17 18 19 20 ... Next
September 27, 2007 at 6:47pm
September 27, 2007 at 6:47pm
#538084
** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only **

Nestled deep within,
a heartbeat your lullabye...
smiling and dreaming.

Even gently nudged,
refusing to be hastened
though keenly longed for.

Your moment of birth
by no one else influenced;
chosen on your terms.

At last, your debut
on a cool September morn...
a wee tiny Princess.

Into loving arms,
received with hushed wonderment,
joyously beheld.

So fresh from God's Hand...
a mystical miracle,
radiant and dear.

Welcome, sweet Tessa,
to childhood's embrace
and songs of glad hearts.

Your footsteps magic,
defining the melodies
the whole world will hear.

~ For Tessa Serena Elizabeth, precious new Grandaughter of Mary Lou, on her very first Birthday, September 26, 2007
*Heart*
September 26, 2007 at 6:38pm
September 26, 2007 at 6:38pm
#537889
** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only **


Writing.com's infamous MaryLou , AKA: Mary, Mary Lou, Mary Lou Who, Mawy Woo Who... and last, but not by any means least... Mary-Lou-Who-Henner-of-Gynastically-Compromised-Peeflap-Fame, is once more a doting, bodice-burstingly proud Grand-ma-ma of a Bouncing Baby Texas Dudette going by the handle of...

*Balloon4* *Balloon4* *Balloon4* *Balloon4*         Tessa Serena Elizabeth !!!        *Balloon4* *Balloon4* *Balloon4* *Balloon4* 


Li'l Princess Tess was born at 7:14 A.M. Texas Time today, September 26, 2007. She weighed a bonnie 7 lbs., 6 oz., and her squealing-and-bouncing-off-walls-with-happiness Grand-ma-ma Mary Lous says she has a glorious shock of dark hair. The tiny new Princess, her Mother, and her button-bustin' Grand-ma-ma are all doing well. Be sure to drop by Mary Lou's Blog and leave a Congratulatory Message on her 9/26/07 12:58 P.M. (EST) entry entitled, " Houston, we've got a baby! " ...

** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only **

 Invalid Item 
This item number is not valid.
#1016062 by Not Available.

*Balloon3* *Balloon3* *Balloon3* *Balloon3*         CONGRATULATIONS, MARY LOU !!!!   *Balloon3* *Balloon3* *Balloon3* *Balloon3* 



September 26, 2007 at 12:36pm
September 26, 2007 at 12:36pm
#537838
I'm not one for using the " F " word very often; that way, when I do, it packs the kind of wallop I need it to in a particular situation. Below are a few examples of times when no other word could do the job better. Some I found in a Googlethon; some I thunked up myself over the years. See if you agree...

" Who greased this f---cking grapeviiiiiine ?!?! "
Tarzan's last words

" That's not a real f---ing gun."
John Lennon

" Who's gonna f---ing find out? "
Richard Nixon

" Heads are going to f---ing roll."
Henry the 8th

" What f---ing map? "
Mark Thatcher

"Any f---ing idiot could understand that."
Albert Einstein

" That's one big f---ing cigar! "
Monica Lewinski

" It does so f---ing look like her! "
Picasso

" F--k 'em if they can't take a joke. "
Bonnie and Clyde "

" That's my bad f---ing ear. "
Vincent Van Gough

" How the f--k did you work that out? "
Pythagoras

" You want what on the f---ing ceiling? "
Michaelangelo

" Houston, we've got more than just a f---ing probem "
the Commander of the Space Shuttle, "Columbia"

" Knock, f---ing knock..."
the Boston Strangler

" F---k a duck! "
Walt Disney

" Why? Because its f---ing there! "
Edmund Hilary

" If it fits, we're in deep f---ing shit. "
Attorney Johnnie Cochran

" Don't f--ck with me, boys."
Aileen Wuornos

" I don't suppose its gonna f---ing rain? "
Joan of Arc

" Shut up and drink your f---ing Kool-Aid, Eva "
Adolph Hitler

" Scattered f---ing showers, my ass!"
Noah

" Let the f---ing woman drive."
the Commander of Space Shuttle "Challenger"

" Where did all these f---ing Indians come from? "
General George Custer

" I didn't hear the f---er coming! "
Dick Cheney during his last hunting trip

" F--k the Farmer's wife! "
Three blind mice.

" Where's the f---ing light switch? "
Stevie Wonder

" Pass the f---ing salt "
One of the last two surviving members of the Donner Party

" I need this parade like I need a f---king hole in my head."
John F. Kennedy

" Where the f--k is all this water coming from? "
Captain of the Titanic

" Where'd I leave my f---ing gloves? "
O. J. Simpson

" F---ing cheap cement mix...! "
Scott Peterson

" Who put this f--cking hole here? "
Baby Jessica

" What the f--k was THAT?
the Mayor of Hiroshima

" It's f- - -i-n-g w-a-t-e-r, already! "
tapped into the hand of Patty Duke by Ann Bancroft during a 19th "take" making the movie, "The Miracle Worker"

September 25, 2007 at 4:00pm
September 25, 2007 at 4:00pm
#537643
In over a half a century of mystified meanderings on this old planet, I've come to realize that there are precious few things in and about life that I am unequivocably certain of. One of them is this:

I loathe technologically facilitated conflict... and God has a warped sense of humor evidenced by His penchant for practical jokes.

Three and a half months or so ago, I placed a large order with a well known online Clothier. I do not do at all well in hot, humid weather... something we endured a plethora of this past summer in my region. To that end, I ordered several darling, summer-weight, pairs of "clam digger" style slacks, matching tops, and numerous pairs of adorable Totes Brand canvas-topped, open-toed-style shoes of varying hues to top off the aforementioned ensembles. The order came to approximately $500... not exactly chump change for a working girl (shaddup, Dee...*Smirk* ).

" Hot DAMN ! ", I thought to myself as I clicked on "confirm order" and jotted down the receipt number. I'd ordered from this company many times before, LOVED the fit, style, and quality of everything I'd ever received from them, and was abidingly satisfied with how swiftly purchases from them are processed, shipped, and received via U.S. Mail Parcel Post. My employer allows "clam digger" length slacks in the workplace when the weather is hot, providing they are appropriately styled, tailored, and pressed... and this clothing was going to be perfect for the tropical summer months to come. I nearly dislocated my shoulder patting myself on the back over my sheer brilliance at 1) thinking up such a marvellous cure for avoiding another tropical workplace slap-down, 2) expediently executing the plan by locating and putting together a PERFECTLY suitable, stylish-yet-carefree-maintenance, sizeable summer wardrobe at one hell of a bargain price, and 3) triumphing over my penchant for procrastination by preparing for the coming heat wave well in advance of its arrival. All was well in my little world.

... for about 10 days, which is approximately 4 days more than it had EVER taken to receive merchandise from this company in the past. Not one to jump ugly without sufficient provocation... or without a net to land in if I missed... I first went to the company's website to track the order. Hmmmmm....

"Order received" - correct date
"Order Processed" - the very next business day
"Order Shipped via USPS" - the date after that
"Received in Main Postal Processing Center, Someweherville, Pennsylvania" - same date as above
"Several progressive destination point arrival dates" - 2, 5, 7, and 10 days after date order was placed
"Arrival in my home town" - 7 flipping days ago!

Now why, my fevered brain pondered, would a $500 order shipped in three boxes that took only 8 days to cross the entire COUNTRY now have been languishing in my home town's Post Office processing center for the last SEVEN  FLIPPING  DAYS???

The adventure began...

First I located the phone book. (Who wants to pay a buck-fifty to have an Information Operator who's ALREADY being handsomely paid to show her snotty self up to work, grudgingly say, "One moment, plea-us"... and switch me over to a synthesized voice that provides me with the number I want ~ then tells me that for a mere two bucks MORE, it will automatically ring me through?)

Next, I sat down and drank a glass of iced tea. (The phone book took awhile to find, and I'd worked up a sweat in the hour-long treasure hunt that preceeded lugging it out from under my delapidated 3-legged sofa.)

Twenty minutes after polishing off the tea, I located the Post Office's number. Why did it take that long, you ask? A logical enough question... with a vexingly illogical answer: 1) I had two find my glasses first, because Ma Bell has taken to using "Finite Font" for it's phonebook listings and 2) who would've thought the number would be listed under "Post Office, U.S." in the flipping WHITE pages instead of under  "United States Post Office,  U.S. Mail,  U.S. Postal Service", or even   "U.S. Department of Noboday Can Fluck Things Up Like We Can" ... in the  &*^%$!#@  YELLOW pages, where Business phone numbers^%$)@*$# -ing  well BELONG ???

"U.S. Postal Service, Main Street Branch, Ichabod I-couldn't-care-less speaking"

"Yes, Mr. I-couldnt-care-less. My name is " of_fire_born ", and [insert 3-minute long, politely and patiently related, meticulously-detailed-so-as-to-provide-him-with-all-needed-clues for tracking my order explanation of my situation, from this point on referred to as Lost Order Explanation, abbreviated "LOE", here]."

"Just a minute, please."

< 8 minutes of mind-numbing elevator "hold" music... * click, followed by a dialtone * >

I re-dialed.

"U.S. Postal Service, Main Street Branch, Wanda What-the-hell-do-YOU-want speaking."

"Hello, Wanda. My name is of_fire_born and [ LOE ] Ond one of your co-workers, Mr. Ralph I-couldn't-care-less, was helping me, but he put me on hold and our connection disconnected."

"I'm sorry to hear that. Hold on while I go find him."

"Oh, NO, Wanda! I'm sure you could help me yourse.... * click * "

< 9 MORE minutes of "Sinatra Sings the Blues" ~ *click, immediately followed by busy signal* >

I RE-re-dialed.

"U.S. Postal Service, Main Street Branch, Jack U. Around speaking."

Good afternoon, Jack. OFB here. I've been trying to locate a package that your tracking system says has been in your Center for a week now. Here are the details: [ LOE ]. I 've spoken with two of your fellow postal workers, Mr. I-couldn't-care-less and Ms. What-the-hell-do-YOU-want, and explained all of this to both of them, but they keep putting me on hold and then the line drops. My ear is sore from listening to Sinatra tunes, and I'm also getting very depressed because I know all the words to the songs."

"That's a shame, you pruny old broad. I can't do anything about your age bracket, but hold on and I'll personally myself go look for your box."

"How very... um... kind of you, sir! Yes, I'll hold."

< After achieving his personal best of leaving a customer on hold for only 6.5 minutes... >

"Miss Unborn? Your package isn't on the shelf. Are you sure it's not on your porch right this very minute?."

" It's BORN, Jack. And, as I said before, it's THREE packages, NONE of which are on my flipping front porch at the moment. I may need bifocals to read, but I can still recognize large, boxed objects at ten paces. And YOUR Tracking System says they ARE on your blinking shelves somewhere - and HAVE been for 7 bleeping days. "

"Well, you don't hafta get cranky about it... hold on and I'll try to transfer you to my Supervisor... * click * "

<...11 minutes of "The Best of Barry Manilow" later, I hung up. ( Nothing against you personally, Barry, but I already have all of your albums and you sound much better on my stereo.) >

"United States Postal Service, Harry I'm-a-new-hire at your service."

"Hi, Harry, how're they hangin' ? It's Born again. Whatever happens, do NOT put me on hold... what I need you to do is give me the direct number of your Supervisor."

"I understand, Born Again...*Rolleyes*... but I have to at least feign an attempt to assist you before I give out that number... it's a Government Post Office Policy, and they come down hard on us if we violate it."

" I don't doubt that in the least, Harry... I've read about all the shootings and stuff. So here goes. [ LOE ]. Now, I've spent the last 2 hours and 32 minutes discussing all this with three of your esteemed, allegedly more ' experienced ' co-workers, Mr. I-couldn't-care-less, Ms. What-the-hell-do-YOU-want, and Mr. Jack U. Around, the latter of whom insists he could not locate my overdue packages on his shelf. So could you please just give me the Supervisor's number?"

"Yes, Ma'am. Just as soon as I double-check the shelves myself. * click * "

< 6 minutes of "Bette Midler's Bawdiest Showtunes"... >

"Miss Unborn?"

"It's BORN, Harrry... BORN."

"Er, yes... sorry about that. ANYhoo... I can't find your package, either. Have you checked your porch to see if it's been delivered while we were on the phone?"

"Yes, Harry ~ as a matter of fact, I have. I peeked out there while Bette was belting out "Wind Beneath My Wings". My porch is balder than Mr. Clean... and it's THREE  &#@*$ -ing  packages, not just ONE ! "

" I am sorry. The Supervisor's number is xxx-xxxx. "

"Yes you are, Mr. New-hire ~ and thanks for the number. What, by the way, is the Supervisor's name?"

"That would be Hilda High-and-mighty, Ms. Afterburn."

" Wonder-effing-ful. Have a good day, Harry. *click* " *Angry*

After a mind-numbingly redundant subequent conversation with Miss High-and-mighty, followed by another one with Regional Postmistress Ima Clueless, I was finally granted the privilege of explaining the entire situation ~ inclusive of the initial LOE, a complete list of everyone I'd spoken with (Postal AND Clothier Company personnel) in the interim, and a full explanation of how much or little input each had contributed to the fiasco as it presently stood ~ and then, at long last, filing a U.S. Mail Grand Theft report with Federal Postal Inspector I. M. Bigshot.

"We'll get right on this, Miss Born. We should have the results of our trace on your packages within 90 days, and if they cannot be located within that time, we will reimburse you after we investigate the Clothier to make certain they shipped it to begin with... and have determined that they did, and the loss is therefore, *cough*, the Post Office's responsibility. That could take up to 6 months. "

"So I'm understanding you to say that it could take up to three months, also known as "sometime in the first week of Autumn", to locate my $500 worth of Summer clothing that your own TRACKING SYSTEM says you guys, at least as some point in time, had in your own Postal Parcel Receiving Center, located less than three miles from my home? And that if you CAN'T find said Summer clothes, it may take me until sometime around New-Year's-effing-EVE to be reimbursed for the loss???"

"Exactly. That's pretty much it in a nutshell. *click * "

" Pretty much " it " in a nut HOUSE !!!," I fumed at yet another dialtone.

.... fast foward THREE AND ONE HALF WEEKS... *Angry*.

I get a call from the Supervisor at my home town's main Post Office... who, it seems, has learned that the Big Postal Kahuas are now investigating her staff regarding a Grand You-Could-Lose-Your-Job-For-This Theft...

"Miss Born? This is Ms. High-and-mighty calling, with GREAT NEWS !!! After an exhaustive search, I discovered the the reason our Tracking System showed that your 3 packages were received in our Center is because when U.P.S. dropped off the pallet they were on, shrink-wrapped together with a buttload of other packages coming from all points U.S., my worker signed the pallet receipt without inventorying the pallet contents first ~ which-we-always-do-despite-the-chance-that-stuff-is-missing-because-we-can't-unload-the-pallets-right-away-and-it-saves-time. Therefore, even though our Tracking System says they were received here, we later discovered those 3 particular boxes were not included on the pallet after we got around to unpacking it! "

"Splendid. And this means what?"

"Well, Miss Born, it means we're not at fault here! U.P.S. must have your boxes!!! "

"Look, Miss High-and-mighty. I paid U.S. POSTAGE fees to have the boxes shipped in the first place. If the Post Office opted to sub-contract transport of my domestic, U.S. Postal shipment to U.P.S. ~ Greyhound Bus Lines ~ Sunshine Taxi Service ~ or Western Union flucking TELEGRAM... that's your problem. Find my shit or pay me back for it, PERIOD. *click * "

....SIX DAYS later, I get a LETTER....

"Dear Miss Born. I was right - U.P.S. DID have the packages. They just found them for you in the "Dead Package Section" of their warehouse. They have promised me that they are putting the boxes on their very next Parcel Delivery semi enroute from ( the name of a town about 17 miles from here ) to ( the name of the town I live in ). You should have them within 3 business days of the day we receive them from U.P.S. Please contact the Postal Inspector's office immediately, advise them of our findings, and withdraw your theft claim... (Signed)... Hilda High-and-mighty "

I then called Hilda ~ who was apparently at breakfast, shopping, getting a bikini-wax, or taking a nap ~ because I got her voicemail at 9:45 A.M. ~ and left her a message:

"Hi, High-and-mighty person...FIRE here. I will withdraw my Grand Theft claim when my effing merchandise is in the waiting arms of my effing clothes closet. Have a meaningful day."

In an effort to jettison the attendant negative vibes, I flipped the television on to the Local News Broadcast here in Hicksville. (They're always good for a laugh.)

The lead story, complete with film footage of it dangling, nose first, perilously suspended over Lake Yahoo, was:

"A   U.P.S. Parcel Delivery semi truck enroute from (the name of the town 17 miles away from me) to Hicksville skidded off the highway early this morning, and toppled partially over the side of a bridge...."

Aw, shit. *Rolleyes*.

Ten days later, I finally received the battered boxes ~ and all the lovely Summer garments and shoes therein. My Employer is just gonna have to DEAL with me running around in pedal-pushers and open-toed footwear until at least one paycheck past Christmas. *Laugh*

... Tune in sometime when my blood pressure is something less than the Depth of Infinity over the Speed of Light Squared and I'll tell ya the story of " The Dollar Store and the Debit Card Debaucle". *Shock*
September 24, 2007 at 6:59pm
September 24, 2007 at 6:59pm
#537440
~ Thought for the Day ~

Toxic people are like trains barrelling toward a washed out bridge. You can stand on the tracks and scream at them to stop, but if their horn is blaring continuously and loudly enough to drown you out ~
it's time to get out of the way.
Otherwise, they'll crush you in their deaf and blind rush to meet their own fates.
September 24, 2007 at 1:08am
September 24, 2007 at 1:08am
#537285
Sometimes, here or elsewhere, you wake up and discover you've unwittingly fallen prey to "Ping Pong Ball Syndrome" ~ weightless and insignificant, swept up in a tornadic maelstrom of anger/resentment/obfuscated agendas/jealousy/manipulation/vengeance/pain/etcetera, spun around at a dizzying pace, and slammed repeatedly against the unforgiving walls of some insane lotto machine. Even as you sense being vacuumed ever nearer to some gaping, black-holed abyss of finality, you're painfully aware of each daunting blow from airborne debris also swirling in the shrieking vortex. The projectiles, you at some point realize, are the contents of baggage ripped from the white-knuckled clutches of fellow human beings... and now zeroing in on others who've made the mistake of too closely approaching their mistrusting owners.

We all carry baggage of some sort or another; a carefully stowed collection of momentos bearing witness to wrongs done to us and keen disappointments and/or rejections we've endured... as well as all of the pain, anger, bitterness, hopelessness, helplessness, and dysfunction they spawn. Each evidences obvious signs of wear, attesting to the innumerable times they've been retrieved, closely examined, vigorously railed against, and obsessively contemplated ~ only to be ultimately re-folded with care and once more tucked away in dark, airless confines that so well sustain them. Were they to be left out in the sunshine and rain that naturally occur in life ~ neglected, abandoned, and sentenced to fend for themselves ~ they would moulder and disappear, as all dead things are meant to do. Preserved and granted our permission to feed upon our self-esteem, however, they live on indefinitely, rendering us ever more toxic, spiritually anemic, and wholly quagmired in the symbiotic process. Additionally, they are portenders of a destructive cycle, spawning and multiplying exponentially until our baggage becomes too cumbersome to be carried ~ or even shouldered ~ anymore. It now must be dragged along behind us, impeding every single step forward we endeavor to take.

As earlier stated, every human being encounters and must bear the burden of a certain amount of baggage in this world; that is simply an inescapable fact of life. Frequently, though ~ and sadly, all too often to their considerable detriment ~ onlookers confuse the concepts of ' courage ' and ' inner strength ' with what is in actuality a loved one's or friend's malignant need to remain safely cocooned in the security blanket of their own despair.

After all, by keeping past wounds picked open and suppurating, we do glean copious amounts of attention, acquire free passes for even our most inappropriate, otherwise inexcusable misconduct, tantrums, rants, narcisisstic mindsets, and resulting neglect and/or abuse of others ~ all the while reaping an abundance of extended sympathy, support, and encouragement. In such instances, ' victims ' are not being courageous... and we are not being at all helpful to them. The bottom line proves to be that they are addicted to victimization and we are their enablers. Interestingly enough, enablers may find themselves addicted... to the process and dynamics inherent to enabling.

Sometimes, if you honestly love and/or care about someone, the best and only truly loving thing you can do for them is to completely cease facilitating their addiction, accepting that their ensuing downward spiral and ultimate crash and burn is the sole means by which they will at last truthfully confront their circumstances and reclaim, then take full control of, their own lives and futures. As with any substance of abuse, escaping the work that has to be done daily in life by retreating into the seductive embrace of perpetual victimization dooms human beings to a defeating state of paralytic oblivion... and represents an utter waste of precious time that can never be replaced. If anything, this particular type of addiction is even stealthier and in many ways more devastating for sufferers, their friends, their families ~ and most of all, their children. Unchecked, it becomes a crippling generational legacy... the children of sufferers grow up to become equally debilitated parents, and the cycle goes on and on.

There is only one way to emancipate ourselves from our demons, regain our footholds, and know genuine pleasure and satisfaction in life, be we addicted victims or enablers. We must first decide that we want to live happily and meaningfully... and then get real, get rid of our destructive yet zealously maintained baggage, and get down to the business of living in the "now" and for the future rather than continuing to wallow in the past. Once we become adults, we are the captains of our own ships... unless, especially if out of fear of failure and/or and accepting personal responsibility, we permit others to wrest away our rightful position at the helm. Past storms cannot be permitted to sabotage the voyage before us. Nor can we allow the ships others are hell-bent upon sinking take our own down, as well.

And chosing to sink our own ship ~ by any overt or covert means ~ is the coward's way out... a capitally punishing and wholly undeserved slap in the face of God and those who love and care for us ~ and the most monumental of betrayals of one's own soul.
September 23, 2007 at 4:42pm
September 23, 2007 at 4:42pm
#537188
The below song's been buzzing around in my aching gourd since yesterday, even though I'd not heard it played or sung in years. It finally dropped off the radar screen of my mind a couple of hours ago... only to rear it's ancient, nostagic head once more when played a few minutes ago on the FM station to which I happened to be listening. *Rolleyes*

Strangely enough, now both the song AND a quip an old cop flame of mine was fond of are presently duking it out in my Excedrin-immune grey matter:

" Life is a big shit sandwich... and every day they make you take another bite. "


And, Oh, YEAH... another one of his favorites:

" I'm so happy, I could break out in little assholes and shit myself to death. "


* Help me, Lord !   Make the voices in my head SHADDUP, already!!! *Bigsmile* *

Ya gotta love menopause and chemotherapy... GUFFAW !!! *Laugh*


" RAINY DAYS AND MONDAYS "

Talkin' to myself and feelin' old,
Sometimes I'd like to quit... nothing ever seems to fit
Hangin' around,
nothing to do but frown ~
rainy days and Mondays always get me down.

What I've got they used to call the blues,
Nothin' is really wrong... feelin' like I don't belong
Walkin' around,
some kind of lonely clown ~
rainy days and Mondays always get me down.

Funny, but it seems I always wind up here with you...
nice to know somebody loves me.
Funny but it seems that it's the only thing to do...
run and find the one who loves me.

What I feel has come and gone before,
no need to talk it out... we know what it's all about.
Hangin' around,
nothing to do but frown ~
rainy days and Mondays always get me down.

[ insert absolutely to die for saxophone solo here ]

Funny but it seems that it's the only thing to do...
run and find the one who loves me.

What I feel has come and gone before,
no need to talk it out... we know what it's all about.
Hangin' around,
nothing to do but frown ~
rainy days and Mondays always get me down.


Performed by the Carpenters (Karen) in 197?
Music and Lyrics created by Paul Williams & Roger Nichols


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rmeFrNPGXlc


September 23, 2007 at 2:11pm
September 23, 2007 at 2:11pm
#537125
~ Thought for the Day ~

"Given a choice, which would you prefer... sex, or a million-dollar deal?"

"A million-dollar sex deal."

~ aging Rock Star Gene Simmons, responding to a question put to him by his longtime Common-Law wife
on the A & E reality show, "Gene Simmons' Family Jewels"
*Laugh*
September 23, 2007 at 12:52pm
September 23, 2007 at 12:52pm
#537112
A farmer and his wife had been married for many years. He was a quiet and introspective man, personifying the expression, "still waters run deep". She was a dominant, cynically manipulative shrew who wielded her tongue like a venomous dagger, demeaning and criticizing with relish and great regularity.

One fine Spring day, the pair set out to head into town for provisions in their mule-team drawn, buckboard wagon. The farmer's wife was in rare form that day, expounding negative opinions and criticism of nearly every move her husband made. His countenance expressionless, the tolerant and patient farmer merely stared blankly forward over the mule's behinds as they pulled the wagon down the road.

But after only about a quarter of a mile, one of the two mules, long known for his immovable obstinance, stopped dead in his tracks and refused to budge. Its partnered mule looked over its flank at the farmer and his wife, then turned her perplexed and worried gaze back to her fellow mule, who continued remaining stubbornly stationary. The farmer commanded the animal to move numerous times, but, though the animal rotated them toward the sound of the farmer's voice, the farmer's commands nonetheless fell upon deaf ears.

"Good LAWD ! I've never in my life met another man as wimpy as you are! ", the shrill farmer's wife exclaimed. "Get this wagon moving, for heaven's sake! "

Saying nothing, the old man arthritically dismounted the wagon, approached the offending mule, lifted it's face so that he was making direct eye contact with the animal, and calmly and quietly told it,

"That's once, jackass."

The mule blinked, both literally and figuratively. The farmer climbed back in the wagon, took up the reigns, uttered the command, "forward ! ", and down the road they went.

But less than another quarter of a mile later, the irascible animal once more halted in his tracks, again ignoring the farmer's verbal commands to move on.

"That's it... sit there like a bump on a pickle! ", the vexed farmer's wife cried, " let that old mule walk all over you! " Uttering no reply, the old gent climbed out of the buckboard, approached the immobile mule, made eye contact, and quietly and calmly said,

"That's twice, jackass."

The mule blinked, and once more taking up the reigns and commanding the mules forward, on they went, the farmer's wife complaining and criticizing every step of the way.

But alas, only about another quarter of a mile down the dusty road, the misbehaving mule brought them yet again to a complete, unyielding halt. The farmer simply sat there for a moment with the reigns in his hand, apparently contemplating the mules' ample, stationary behinds. Crossing her arms over her chest, his wife fired another verbal volley,

"Oh, for Gawd's SAKE !!! That animal has absolutely no respect for you what-so-EVER !!! What are you going to DO about it? !!! "

For the third time and still wordlessly, the farmer stoically dismounted the wagon, retrieved a two-by-four, and once more approached the defiant mule. This time, though, the farmer whacked the animal with the two-by-four right between the eyes, dropping it like a fallen tree. The mule lay still on it's side for a few moments until its head cleared, then rose shakily to its feet, turned its gaze to meet that of the farmer, and blinked repeatedly. After that, his wife grousing, pontificating, criticizing, and wheedling all the way there, no further interruptions occurred in their trek to town.

As they pulled up to the General Store, the farmer's wife snorted her ridicule, "Well, it certainly took us long enough to get here, thanks to you being such a pacifist mouse of a man! "

Breaking his forward gaze, the farmer slowly turned his head toward and made unwavering eye contact with his haughty wife, regarding her with utter sincerity...

"That's once, jackass", he calmly and quietly said. *Laugh*

September 23, 2007 at 12:08pm
September 23, 2007 at 12:08pm
#537099
The following quotations are taken from actual letters received by the Welfare Department in applications for benefits:

I am forwarding my marriage certificate and 6 children. I had seven but one died which was baptized on a half sheet of paper.

I am writing the welfare department to say that my baby was born two years old. When do I get my money?

Mrs. Jones has not had any clothes for two years and has been visited regularly by the clergy.

I cannot get sick pay. I have six children can you tell me why?

I am glad to report that my husband who is missing is dead.

This is my eighth child. What are you going to do about it.

Please find out if my husband is dead. The man I am now living with can't do anything until he knows.

I am very much annoyed to find out that you have branded my son illiterate. This is a dirty lie as I was married a week before he was born.

In answer to your letter, I have given birth to a son weighing 10 lbs. I hope this is satisfactory.

I am forwarding my marriage certificate and my 3 children one of which is a mistake as you can see.

My husband got his project cut off about two weeks ago and I haven't had any relief since.

Unless I get my husband's money pretty soon, I will be forced to lead an immortal life.

You have my changed little boy to a girl, will this make any difference?

I have no children yet, as my husband is a truck driver and works night and day.

I want money as quick as I can get it. I have been in bed with the doctor for two weeks and he doesn't do me any good. If things don't improve, I will have to send for another doctor.

In accordance with your instructions, I have given birth to twins in the enclosed envelope.
September 22, 2007 at 4:59pm
September 22, 2007 at 4:59pm
#536937
** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only **

Dance with me, joy...
fill my days with your songs.
Love, life, and laughter your wine.

Nourish me, hope...
when, parched and pale, I hunger.
Whisper your secrets divine.

Awaken me, knowledge...
your light vanquishing darkness.
Banish the fears that pursue.

Uplift me, faith...
to soar on tensile-strengthed wings.
Magnificent, each of your hues.

Empower me, peace...
with gifts of understanding.
Serenity's truth your treasure.

Infuse me, courage...
throughout my days, perservere.
Lives' worths are by honor measured.

Heal me, love...
given freely, thus received.
Your touch soothes the pain of all wounds.

Cradle me, life...
arms supportive, yet yielding.
Embrace me beyond, unentombed.

Abide with me, God...
let me stray not from Your sight.
Eternity beats in Your heart.

Claim me, Heaven...
when earthly sojourns conclude.
If earned, let me end where you start.
September 22, 2007 at 2:09pm
September 22, 2007 at 2:09pm
#536911
** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only **

Barren, wasted arms
reach for a hidden Heaven
that they may learn... why?
September 21, 2007 at 7:48pm
September 21, 2007 at 7:48pm
#536758
~ Quip for the Day ~

Don't parade on my rain.

*Confused*

September 21, 2007 at 12:01pm
September 21, 2007 at 12:01pm
#536684
You didn't think I'd cut LAWYERS any slack, did you??? *Laugh*

Courtesy of the Massachusetts Bar Association Lawyer's Journal, below are actual questions posed by attorneys to testifying witnesses during legitimate trial proceedings. Some of them are inclusive of the befuddled and/or cheeky witnesses' replies. My personal favorite is the very last one. Enjoy!


1. "Now doctor, isn't it true that when a person dies in his sleep, he doesn't know about it until the next morning?" 

2. "The youngest son, the twenty-year old, how old is he?"

3. "Were you present when your picture was taken?"

4. "Were you alone or by yourself?"

5. "Was it you or your younger brother who was killed in the war?"

6. "Did he kill you?"

7. "How far apart were the vehicles at the time of the collision?"

8. "You were there until the time you left, is that true?"

9. "How many times have you committed suicide?"

10. Q: "So the date of conception (of the baby) was August 8th?"
A: "Yes."
Q: "And what were you doing at that time?"

11. Q: "She had three children, right?"
A: "Yes."
Q: "How many were boys?"
A: "None."
Q: "Were there any girls?"

12. Q: "You say the stairs went down to the basement?"
A: "Yes."
Q: "And these stairs, did they go up also?"

13. Q: "Mr. Slatery, you went on a rather elaborate honeymoon, didn't you?"
A: "I went to Europe, Sir."
Q: "And you took your new wife?"

14. Q: "How was your first marriage terminated?"
A: "By death."
Q: "And by who's death was it terminated?"

15. Q: "Can you describe the individual?"
A: "He was about medium height and had a beard."
Q: "Was this a male, or a female?"

16. Q: "Is your appearance here this morning pursuant to a deposition notice which I
sent to your attorney?"
A: "No, this is how I dress when I go to work."

17. Q: "Doctor, how many autopsies have you performed on dead people?"
A: "All my autopsies are performed on dead people."

18. Q: "All your responses must be oral, OK? What school did you go to?"
A: "Oral."

19. Q: "Do you recall the time that you examined the body?"
A: "The autopsy started around 8:30 p.m.."
Q: "And Mr. Dennington was dead at the time?"
A: "No, he was sitting on the table wondering why I was doing an autopsy."

20. Q: "You were not shot in the fracas?"
A: "No, I was shot midway between the fracas and the navel."

21. Q: "Are you qualified to give a urine sample?"
A: "I have been since early childhood."

22. Q: "Doctor, before you performed the autopsy, did you check for a pulse?"
A: "No."
Q: "Did you check for blood pressure?"
A: "No."
Q: "Did you check for breathing?"
A: "No."
Q: "So, then it is possible that the patient was alive when you began the autopsy?"
A: "No."
Q: "How can you be so sure, Doctor?"
A: "Because his brain was sitting on my desk in a jar."
Q: "But could the patient have still been alive nevertheless?"
A: "It is possible that he could have been alive and practicing law somewhere."


September 21, 2007 at 10:51am
September 21, 2007 at 10:51am
#536671
** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only **

September arrives
and nature takes note.
The whispers of chilled breaths
speak of change on the wing...
the time draws nigh
for a last celebration.

Garbed in splendored array,
joyously dancing and singing,
mindful of slumber to come.

Vivid hues disguise
pallored wisps of smoke
attesting to the deaths
of the children born to Spring
under warm skies...
once budding revelations.

Spent, their numbered days,
they know what Winter is bringing...
their time for living is done.

By their demise,
renewed life evoked;
defied, the grasp of death
by gestating offspring.
Asleep, but soon to rise...
May's anticipation.

Painted days danced away...
Fall's songs in ears still ringing
throughout the slumber to come.

September 20, 2007 at 12:44pm
September 20, 2007 at 12:44pm
#536472
Below is a compilation of hilarious, unedited excerpts taken from vehicluar accident insurance claims gathered from various major insurance company sources. If you guffaw at 'em HALF as much as I did, reading them will make your day! *Laugh*


I told the police that I was not injured, but on removing my hat found that I had a fractured skull.

I collided with a stationary truck coming the other way.

As I approached an intersection a sign suddenly appeared in a place where no stop sign had ever appeared before. I was unable to stop in time to avoid the accident.

My car was legally parked as it backed into another vehicle.

The other car collided with mine without giving warning of its intention.

I had been shopping for plants all day and was on my way home. As I reached an intersection a hedge sprang up, obscuring my vision and I did not see the other car.

I was on the way to the doctor with rear end trouble when my universal joint gave way causing me to have an accident.

Windshield broken. Cause unknown. Probably Voodoo.

The car in front of me hit the pedestrian but he got up so I hit him again.

I pulled away from the side of the road, glanced at my mother-in-law and headed over the embankment.

The other car collided with mine without giving warning of its intention.

I collided with a stationary truck coming the other way

A truck backed through my windshield into my wife's face.

A pedestrian hit me and went under my car.

In an attempt to kill a fly, I drove into a telephone pole.

An invisible car came out of nowhere, struck my car and vanished.

I was thrown from the car as it left the road. I was later found in a ditch by some stray cows.

Coming home I drove into the wrong house and collided with a tree I don't have.

I thought my window was down, but I found it was up when I put my head through it.

The guy was all over the road. I had to swerve a number of times before I hit him.

I had been driving for forty years when I fell asleep at the wheel and had an accident.

As I approached an intersection a sign suddenly appeared in a place where no stop sign had ever appeared before.

To avoid hitting the bumper of the car in front I struck a pedestrian.

My car was legally parked as it backed into another vehicle.

I was sure the old fellow would never make it to the other side of the road when I struck him.

The pedestrian had no idea which way to run as I ran over him.

I saw a slow moving, sad faced old gentleman as he bounced off the roof of my car.

The indirect cause of the accident was a little guy in a small car with a big mouth.

The telephone pole was approaching. I was attempting to swerve out of the way when I struck the front end.

The gentleman behind me struck me on the backside. He then went to rest in a bush with just his rear end showing.

I had been learning to drive with power steering. I turned the wheel to what I thought was enough and found myself in a different direction going the opposite way.

I was backing my car out of the driveway in the usual manner, when it was struck by the other car in the same place it had been struck several times before.

When I saw I could not avoid a collision I stepped on the gas and crashed into the other car.

The accident happened when the right front door of a car came round the corner without giving a signal.

No one was to blame for the accident but it would never have happened if the other driver had been alert.

I was unable to stop in time and my car crashed into the other vehicle. The driver and passengers then left immediately for a vacation with injuries.

The pedestrian ran for the pavement, but I got him.

I saw her look at me twice. She appeared to be making slow progress when we met on impact.

The accident occurred when I was attempting to bring my car out of a skid by steering it into the other vehicle.

My car got hit by a submarine. (The Navy informed the wife of a submariner that the craft was due in port. She drove to the base to meet her husband and parked at the end of the slip where the sub was to berth. An inexperienced ensign was conning the sub and it rammed the end of the slip, breaking a section away, causing her car to fall into the water. The Navy paid the compensation claim.)

I pulled in to the side of the rode because there was smoke coming from under the hood. I realized there was a fire in the engine, so I took my dog and smothered it with a blanket.

The accident occurred when I was attempting to bring my car out of a skid by steering it into the other vehicle.

On approach to the traffic lights the car in front suddenly broke.

The indirect cause of the accident was a little guy in a small car with a big mouth.

I was going at about 70 or 80 mph when my girlfriend on the pill reached over and grabbed my testicles so I lost control.


VEHICULAR ACCIDENT CLAIMS "ACROSS THE POND"


Going to work at 7am this morning I drove out of my drive straight into a bus. The bus was 5 minutes early.

I was driving along when I saw two kangaroos copulating in the middle of the road causing me to ejaculate through the sun roof.

The accident happened because I had one eye on the lorry in front, one eye on the pedestrian and the other on the car behind.

I started to slow down but the traffic was more stationary than I thought.

Q: Could either driver have done anything to avoid the accident?
A: Travelled by bus?

* The below Claimant had collided with a cow. The questions and answers on the claim form were...*
Q: What warning was given by you?
A: Horn.
Q: What warning was given by the other party?
A: Moo.

I started to turn and it was at this point I noticed a camel and an elephant tethered at the verge. This distraction caused me to lose concentration and hit a bollard.

I didn't think the speed limit applied after midnight

I knew the dog was possessive about the car but I would not have asked her to drive it if I had thought there was any risk.

Q: Do you engage in motorcycling, hunting or any other pastimes of a hazardous nature?
A: I Watch the Lottery Show and listen to Terry Wogan.

First car stopped suddenly, second car hit first car and a haggis ran into the rear of second car.
September 19, 2007 at 1:40pm
September 19, 2007 at 1:40pm
#536261
This is it. The time has come.

I cannot bear keeping this secret locked away in my tortured soul for one more moment! I respect my co-writers here in The Land of Writing.com far too much to continue stuffing this particular skeleton behind the largest garment bag in my closet...

It is important, Dear Readers, that you bear in mind the attenuating circumstances surrounding this sordid little tale. For in doing so, you may find yourselves more disposed to empathy, mercy, and, of course... compassion for the tale's tiny victims. *sob*...

Take my hand and fly with me back through the mists of time... to the 1970's. The last dinosaur had just died off, a newfangled machine called a "printing press" was gaining a foothold, and Don Ho was a warbling superstar. It was the Age of Aquarius and naked Flower Children... the former a sign of globally hoped-for enlightenment and the latter a complete pain in the ass for college campus cops. Bell- and bare- bottoms abounded, and proceeds from the sale of bongs and Fabreeze's "MaryJane Scent Eradicator Air Fresheners" were boosting our nation's economy to never-before-experienced, all new... um... highs.

Though not a card-carrying Flower Child OR Women's Libber myself, ( I liked short hair on men, sunburned easily, and needed my bra ), I was nevertheless a Free Spirit, thus managing to blend in fairly well ( with a good tailwind ) throughout the tumultuous years of my youth.

I was tripping through a meadow ( tripping was popular back then ~ don't ask me why ) one glorious, sunshine-infused day, high on life and the "A+" I'd just received on my English Lit term paper entitled, "Woodstock ~ What Good is it Without a Fireplace?", when I spied... *gulp*...

...HIM. Perched upon a grouping of large rocks at the shade-steeped edge of a neighboring forest, intently peering through binoculars, snapping photos, and taking copious notes. He was an Adonis... thick, wavy hair, chiselled jaw, built like a brick outhouse, and more sinewy than three-years-past-its-"use-by"-date beef jerkey.

As all of you know, I'm a painfully shy person... ( shaddup, Diva! *Rolleyes* )... but just this once, I decided to throw caution AND fear of rejection to the wind. I marched bravely, perky little breastesses heaving with antipation-soaked foreboding, across that posey-punctuated meadow, leaned in, looked at him maximally meaningfully and dead in the eye, and plopped my perspiring palms on his big boulders.

"Hi, Sailor. New in the meadow?", I asked in a husky tone.

"Why, yes I am," he replied in a voice that could melt penguin pee in Antarctica, "and may I say, of all the wildlife I've seen here today, your fluffy little puff-tail stands heads above the rest."

The man was not only observant... he was a champion of truth! Saucy though I'd always been when it came to the opposite sex, ( I said SHADDUP, Diva! *Angry* ) I'd clearly met my match. I was molten putty in his skilled, extremely long and large- ... VERY large-... digitted hands.

*Changing names here to protect the guilty* ...

" I'm Love's_Mired_Horn ", I breathily whispered, already falling helplessly into his beautiful bespectacled eyes.

" I'm Gallon of Noggo " came the bodaciously baritone reply.

Without getting too deeply into the Triple X-Rated, mind-bending, power-panting, panty-powering, sweat- and lovejuice-drenched, lewd and lascivious heart- ( among other body parts ) pounding, earth-shaking, multiple crashing waves of screaming-meemie Orgasmic Experiences of the Seizmic Kind-producing details...

... let's just say that Gal and I had a really good time.

But alas and painfully alack, that was to be was the first and last time I would ever set eyes on the heart-hitchingly handsome, goateed philosopher, Man About the Ecology and Jack of all Women, devoted nature lover who'd snapped a LOT more than just a few pictures that warm and sunny, stuff-that-dreams-are-made-of day. Later, I heard he'd enrolled in Law School... and we all know what becoming a lawyer can do to a man. It was inifitely better that we parted with my memories of his inocense intact... even if my "flower" no longer was.

... perchance to meet up, many years hence, Somewhere in Time or Cyberspace. One never knew...

But what he never knew... what he must NEVER know after the passage of all these fun-packed years... is that he gave me the three greatest gifts a big stiff stamen can bestow. My beloved and forever to be cherished triplet daughters.

Born prematurely, each of them was so tiny that the nurses had to swaddle them in faux-fur golf club covers. Even still, their darling little faces and personalities were evident from the moment of their births. One very shy but as funny as a flood in a fizzy factory, one courageous, eyes (and legs) wide open and ready to take on the world... and one who nursed an inordinate amount and curled up with kittens during most of her free time. Yes, they are ...

... All My Children. [insert Brahm's Lullaby concerto in D Minor here].

They're the Mired-Gallon Trio, and I'm bodice-burstingly proud of all three of the little tykes ~ then, now, and always...

** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only **

Aren't they just the CUTEST little things you ever did SEE???
They've all grown up to be gorgeous, voluptuous, immensely talented and delightfully cheeky young women now, of course... but I'll never forget how darling they were in their Preemie Newborn Nursery photo!

P.S. The circulating WDC Latrine-O-Gram postulating that Mary Lou appears to be prematurely promiscuous in the above photo is UTTERLY FALSE !!!

She merely had her little legs apart in eager anticipation of her first and much needed diaper change and tushie powdering,
you PERVS !!!!

I mean, REALLY !!!!!!! *Angry*
September 18, 2007 at 8:09pm
September 18, 2007 at 8:09pm
#536095
I blogged a couple of posts ago that O.J. Simpson was a homicide looking for another place to happen. Now comes word that one of the victims of the alleged recent armed hotel room robbery with which Simpson and his "entourage" has been charged has been hospitalized in critical condition with a massive heart attack. In many states, a death by ANY means (including "scaring" victims to death) that occurs because of the commission of an armed robbery can be prosecuted as a homicide. Hopefully, the hospitalized man will not prove to be the third notch on the "Juice's" gunbelt.
September 18, 2007 at 3:00pm
September 18, 2007 at 3:00pm
#536022
Perusing the CNN News for today evoked the following responses to a sampling of the contents:

Nebraska 11th District Senator Ernie Chambers has filed suit against God. In his complaint, Chambers, a long-time, self-proclaimed agnostic, alleges that God is responsible for countless deaths and immense attendant human suffering. The issue of frivolous lawsuits (especially those filed on the taxpayers' dime) clogging our judicial system to the point of insanity aside, I'd like to pose 3 questions to Senator Chambers:

1. Being agnostic, are you not somewhat conflicted over the premise that even filing such a legal complaint acknowleges God's existence?

2. Have you considered for one moment the fate of the poor schmuck who'll have to serve God with His subpoena?

3. If, in fact, God does exist... what if He files a countersuit?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


O.J., you and your symbiotically parasitic supporters are now proclaiming that your participation in a recent alleged home invasion-type armed robbery at a Las Vegas hotel was the result of your being "set up". By who? The police "again"? Caito Caitlin? The marauding pack of killer druglords you claimed were responsible for butchering Ron Goldman and Nicole Brown and SWORE, after you were found Not Guilty in the criminal murder trial, you were going to devote your life and resources to hunting down and bringing to justice, come hell or high water? Or perhaps a select few of the duped African Americans who you kissed up to during the trial... then then shook off like so much dust on your soles as soon as the coast was clear?

How interesting, O.J., that you initially claimed the Hotel Room Incident was a "sting operation" you engaged in to retrieve property "stolen" fom you. Given your criminal trial jurors' gullibility in the past, had you declared the purpose of the "sting" to be CAPTURING Ron and Nicole's druglord murderers ~ that someone "tipped you off" were inside that Hotel room ~ you'd have probably made THAT ridiculous excuse fly.

But once a tape recording of your verbal, expletive-laced barrage of menacing commentary during the fiasco surfaced, ~ and ~ of course, once your defense attorney came on board and enlightened you regarding civilians having no legal right to conduct "stings"... only then did this new "O.J. Was Set Up" Conspiracy Theory rise like the ghostly echo of a ghastly miscarriage of justice some 13 years now past.

And even if you were "set up"... at age 60 and given your illustrious crime-peppered history, did it never occur to you that conducting such a "sting" ~ particularly with brandished guns involved ~ might just be a reeeeally bad idea? If it didn't, you should STILL do serious time ~ for Aggravated Arrogance and Felonious Stupidity.

O.J.'s attorney is in a snit, as well, because he feels it's "unfair" that O.J. is being held incarcerated without bail, on a "No Bail Hold" pending review of the evidence and determination of whether or not it meets the requirements for establishing Probable Cause, until his resultant hearing tomorrow.

Do ya 'spose that O.J.'s history of being found civilly responsible for the butchering deaths of two human beings... and the fact that, prior to that, he initially attempted to flee upon learning he'd been criminally indicted for the murders, might have anything to do with his current "no bond" status? Surely not ~ it's obvious that this is just another shocking incidence of "let's pick on O.J. for no good reason". *Rolleyes*

I mean, really... who, other than your basic narcisistic sociopath, arrogantly smirks in their SECOND set of mugshots for a series of extremely serious felonies, and then, on their handcuffed way to the pokey, chats with the Press as though they were gathered there for an autograph and photo op?

My recommendation to O.J.:

Make good use of the time you spend in jail while your lawyers frantically dig you out of this steaming pile of feces, (perhaps something along the lines of, "If the hotel room card key doesn't fit, you must acquit" ...???) to get a jumpstart on your new book, If I Robbed Them ...

By the way... Cato Caitlin surrendered his old key to your Guest House to Larry King on national television today...

... he says it is, after all, "your property" ~ and he doesn't want to answer his door and get shot 'cause you want it back.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


A young, allegedly "adult" Oregon man, after a few beers, decided to put his pet rattlesnake's head into his own mouth. Imagine his surprise when the rattlesnake struck, injecting sufficient venom inside the man's throat to kill 12 to 15 grown human beings. He describes what he can recall of the aftermath as his arm first "painfully" falling asleep... followed by his entire body painfully falling asleep and a swiftly ensuing "fade to black". (Apparently, his BRAIN had fallen asleep before he decided to put the rattlesnake's head in his mouth to begin with.) Paramedics and medical staff at the hospital picked up the story from there, advising the young man's tongue swelled to fill his entire mouth and that his throat closed up, necessitating giving him a massive amount of anti-venom, inserting a breathing tube, placing him in a chemically-induced coma and on life support, and then crossing their fingers and hoping for the best. After remaining in the medical coma for 10 days, the young man has recovered sufficiently to return home for further recuperation. He said in a subsequent interview, "I still love snakes, but I'll take a little more care in handling them" in the future. Ya think?

I gotta tell ya, folks... I'm on the snake's side in this one.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


Though backing away from the assertion as far and fast as possible in news conferences today , New York Knicks President Isaiah Thomas, in a sworn deposition taken yesterday regarding a Sexual Harassment suit presently pending against him, indicated that he believed for a white man to refer to a black women as a "bitch" is "offensive", but for a black man to refer to a black woman as a "bitch" is "not as much" so. Thomas should not be made a scapegoat here... for this is a flawed thought process pervasive of our collective mindset that is sadly very often wholly unrelated to race, color, or creed. It's about respect ~ or a lack thereof ~ for ourselves and for our fellow human beings.

In a world being swallowed up by selfishness, arrogance, and malignant narcissim, is it not infinitely more relevant to consider that all tongues uttering epithets, slurs, and insults are pink... and all hearts wounded by them bleed red?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


Results of The Soap and Detergent Association (who knew they HAD one?) Study released today indicated that 33.3% of American men and 12% of American women do not wash their hands after using the restroom. Though how they found out scares me a little... the Study also reports that, in an associated experiment conducted at Atlanta's Turner Field Stadium, 57% of men using the public restrooms failed to wash their hands afterword.

EWWWWWWWWWWWW !!!!! *Sick*

GAWD, people... clean up yer ACT !!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


Tongues are wagging and opinions flying about about the University of Florida student who barged in front of the line of people waiting to ask questions in a public Q & A session on campus with Senator John Kerry, and wound up being arrested, tackled, and tazed by Campus Police.

The young man fired a series of angry questions at Kerry, challenging him regarding why he did not appeal his loss of the Presidential election to Bush in 2004, why Kerry was not calling for Bush's impeachment, and if these failures to act signified that Kerry was part of a silent group of politicos conspiring with Bush to send us into the War in Iraq. Kerry was attempting to answer his questions, but the young man would not stop boisterously interrupting, even after several admonishments culminating in turning off his microphone, and police eventually intervened. After being advised he was under arrest, the student resisted and loudly protested, and eventually was tazed and taken into custody.

There are those now screaming that the police used unnessary force, despite the fact that simply resisting arrest when you KNOW the person(s} making the arrest are legitimate law enforcement officers is a crime in and of itself, even if the resistance is as non-violent an act as merely attempting to walk away and even if you believe you've committed no crime. Likewise, there are those just as voiciferously maintaining that the student "had it coming", given how many warnings he ignored and how much of a staged, attention-seeking "performance" his behavior before, during, and after his arrest appeared to be.

I remember when chillingly similar water-cooler chatter and attendant national debates took place in the aftermath of the events that culminated on an Ohio campus on a bloody May 4, 1970. The war being protested at THAT time was Viet Nam... and the similarities between that Conflict and the one in which our brave troops are presently embroiled have been disturbingly similar since even before the Iraq War began on March 19, 2003.

Are we on a slippery slope, headed for another Kent State-like-tragedy?

Has history truly taught us so little?

Are our collective memories actually so perilously short-lived?

I fervently hope and pray to God the answer to all three questions is "no".
September 17, 2007 at 11:29pm
September 17, 2007 at 11:29pm
#535878
I just finished Blog-surfing for the night, and the last nugget I happened to peruse very amusingly concerned itself with a topic near and dear to many hearts... (in the case of women, literally AND figuratively speaking. How's that for a TRIPLE entendre? *Laugh*. )

At the risk of being labelled a Physiological Philosopher, I feel nevertheless compelled to assert the following, on behalf of all "children of a lesser mammary god" everywhere.

The fantabulous thing about a more ~ ahem ~ "petite" bustline in youth is that when ya get into advanced middle age and finally get around to sagging... yer bustily PERFECT ! You at long last have cleavage... while everyone else your age is bouncing off their own kneecaps (or, in the case of the once triumphant D-plus-cupppers, leaving FOUR sets of tracks in the snow!)

Here endeth the anatomical lesson for the day... *Wink*

* walks off the stage, dragging her step-stool-enhanced soap box behind her *

409 Entries · *Magnify*
Page of 21 · 20 per page   < >
Previous ... 11 12 13 14 -15- 16 17 18 19 20 ... Next

© Copyright 2013 Of Fire Born mourns Mama (UN: of_fire_born at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
Of Fire Born mourns Mama has granted Writing.Com, its affiliates and its syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.

Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/books.php/item_id/1063327-CONVOLUTED--CONUNDRUMS--Sifting--Life/sort_by/entry_order DESC, entry_creation_time DESC/page/15