Having Fun With Those Absurd Agree and Disagree Applications

In this economy, employers should be asking the right questions. If you're one of those people applying for work, I can help you, if you ask, nicely.

While helping out a friend fill out a resume and some job applications the other day, I was starting to understand why she was getting so frustrated.  Those applications, online or offline, that ask you if you strongly disagree, disagree, neither agree or disagree, agree and so on can be confusing and, to be brief, just plain stupid .

There were a lot of applications like that, that she was filling out.  Quite a few of them didn't ask much information regarding what skills she had or where she worked all her life.  Most of the time, the way the questions were asked, were more of the confusing psychological type that wanted to play a game of absurd therapy with you instead of being direct and asking pertinent questions.

I liked it better, in the old days, which wasn't that long ago, really, where the employer would ask you for recommendations from other people.  Some cared if those came recommendations from family or friends or people you had worked with and worked for. Then they would ask for your work history.  All of this, to me, is acceptable.  You know.  Where have you worked?  How long, did you work, at each place? You would make a list of your skills, too and check a page or two full of those questions, pertaining to your skills.   Those questions, I can truly accept and understand.  I can get behind logic like that.

And a lot of these "Strongly Agree and Strongly Disagree situation and feelings questions" leave out important details and/or a lot to be interpreted wrongly, too.

You can try to convince me, if you want to waste your time, that the employers, these days, have you fill out the stupid agree and disagree questions for reasons that would make them believe you're not a thief or a sociopath or any other type of undesirable person.  I'm just not buying into it.  Be straight or be gone, moronic employer!  That's what I'd say to those employers looking to play psychological games with an application and the applicant.  I don't play games with people, no matter who they are.

This friend wanted my help in trying to figure out the confounding questions, sometimes, and I helped before I got to the point where I wanted to bang my head on the wall, in frustration.  I think we ended up looking at four of them in one day and while she filled them out.  Now, that my friends, was really work.

People are going to lie, most of the time, anyway, with these silly multiple choice questionnaires.  There are no guarantees in this society that someone isn't going to go from behaving normally to going, suddenly, batshit crazy and kill everyone in a office cubicle or in a warehouse. People know what their potential employer wants to hear or see when they check off on the options on the forms, electronic or not, given to them.  If they don't, I neither strongly agree or strongly disagree that the applicant will be living in their parent's basements all of their unnatural lives until their bones turn to dust mites.  Depends on the person's work habits and what place they want to get hired on as an employee.  Depends on a lot of things that would take a lifetime to explain, in truth.

This is where ordinary human robots can be found.  The typical office.  The supervisor is your overlord.  He demands obedience or else.

Still, all in all, I'm looking to hire some people for my next project.  But first, you will have to pass a test involving cage fights with genetically enhanced pythons with 7 inch fangs, lovable, smart-mouthed teenagers that scream and foam at the mouth, if they don't have the latest smart phone on the market, along with a team of circus midgets, riding ferocious polar bears.

You'll all be put in a cage to prove your mettle and that you're qualified for the job.  If you survive, you will be asked to fill out (this is just a sample) the following questionnaire.  There are a lot of similarities between this one and the ones my friend encountered and had to fill out.  Believe me!

_________________________________________________

I'm a team player most of the time.
_Strongly Agree
_Strongly Disagree
_Neither Agree or Disagree
_Agree
_Disagree

You will listen to a co-workers complaints, about a task given to them, then try to assist them.

_Strongly Agree
_Agree
_Neither Agree or Disagree
_Disagree
_Strongly Disagree

You wish to sell a product that a customer thinks may be over priced.  They're wearing a Batman mask and a pair of ruby red slippers (a la Dorothy from The Wizard of Oz).  You try to convince he or she to buy the coffee maker.

_Strongly Disagree
_Disagree
_Neither Disagree or Agree
_Agree
_Strongly Agree

A supervisor gives you lengthy criticism over the way you spoke to a customer on a Thursday afternoon, around 9:24, when the workplace had been suddenly overran by deadly spiders and wicked prostitutes.  You say, "Thank you, sir.  I enjoy pasta," in response.

_Strongly Disagree and Strongly Agree
_I'm not sure if I stopped my car, completely, at that one stop sign this morning
_Zena: The Warrior Princess, could probably answer this question.  Something just tells me this to be true.
_Agree
_Cantaloupe

Your day's work has been destroyed by a fire but your employer wants you to start back from scratch and will not be pleased until you finish the work.  Seeing that you're about to pass out from the fumes, she offers you a carrot.  A coworker later walks past you, pinches their hardened, fully erect left nipple and continues walking, while singing a show tune.

_Strongly Agree
_Strongly Disagree
_Strongly Have a Boner
_Strongly Eat the Carrot
_Strongly Shake Your Head and Wonder How You Got Here

Your co-workers and employer throw you a surprise birthday party on company time.  You open the gift that everyone but that one tight ass chipped in to buy you.  It turns out to be a worn out, heavily dented, wooden, sticky pencil.  You show an excited exuberance, toward the gift, that would put Las Vegas showgirls to shame, by comparison.

_Strongly Agree but do it with a side of Small Disagreement mixed with obvious apathy
_Agree
_ I want to make up my mind, but I'm missing the instruction booklet
_Disagree
_I will or I won't go on quest to find rainbow colored unicorns that enjoy consuming carrots or placing them deep in their anuses

This must be you, on any given work day.

One of your handicapped co-workers asks you for a favor, giving you the correct amount of money for the task, that involves you getting them a soft drink from the vending machine.

_Strongly Disagree to scream at them like a horrid banshee from the depths of hell
_Strongly Disagree to drool at the corner of your mouth but Strongly Agree that they should rise from their wheelchair.  Why? Because you have given them the power to become healed and heal the sick and impaired, themselves.  Your magic is just that strong.  Wow.
_Tickle their belly, instead.
_Strongly Agree to cut a fart.
_Strongly Agree that, sometimes, crazy people and their erratic behaviors just aren't worth putting up with, no matter how bad you want the money, the job or to get along with "your team" or your fellow species.

This is just a small sampling of my application questionnaire.  I wish you luck. You will be contacted, if you are to have an actual person to person meeting with me, with even more insipid questions asked, when I feel like responding to you.  Good day!

Cool Air Has Inspired and Enthralled

The taint is dry.  My brow is sweat-free.  I can actually walk around in something besides my Cousin Eddie outfits.

Happy to report:  The main AC unit has been officially repaired and installed in the wall.  Before that, the temperatures ran around 80 degrees F. in the apartment.  When the area around us wasn't getting pounded by thunderstorms and 40-60 mph wind gusts and hailstones, the temperatures rose to record numbers this time of year.  Not even summer yet and it easily would get up to 85 degrees outside.  Most of the time, I walked around in my underwear or boxers and a pair of sandals or black slippers.  Nothing else.  My wife warned me not to go outside, saying that I might get raped in my seductive get up.  Somehow, I didn't believe her.

Watch Cousin Eddie, in action, below, in National Lampoon's Vegas Vacation.  This is likely my least favorite "Vacation" movie of the series but it had it's moments. Methinks Cousin Eddie may suffer some anxiety disorder, at times.  I can't fault him for being a moron, though.  He's the entertaining kind of moron.  God puts 'em on Earth for our entertainment, I think.

Beats being around a boring moron- one like most of us encounter each day, on several occasions. This clip below is not the "shitter was full" scene of National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation- but I like this scene.  Everyone and their butt mole has got that one memorized and it has been shown to death.  Hell, it's tradition for us to watch the Christmas one each year.  I still get a boner when the girl in the red bathing suit is on the diving board of the fantasy pool.  My wife ruins my mood by saying that when she flips her suit up in the air with her foot, she is cutting a pussy fart at the same time.

I also slap myself on my head to recall things.

Now I can come into this room, play games, make witty as heck comments on blogs and entertain myself by spouting off words of wisdom.  By the way, I saw the mentally challenged man again at the park.  He was still mumbling, frequently waving his arms up and down and made quacking noises.  He paced back and forth, every so often shouting, "Gimbiddy Goobey Blaaarghh!"

The mother or caretaker of this person was looking at the picnic table she was sitting at, perhaps thinking of a creamy fudge bar or slitting her own throat.  I know it's hard for people to take care of people when they're mentally challenged.  I feel for them as much or more than the mentally retarded folks they take care of- they're like the unspoken heroes and people don't say enough good about them.

At least, he, the dude I was just yakkin' about, wasn't like this other asshole in the park.  This old guy, The Curmudgeon, I call him. He was all stretched out underneath a shelter, sweating profusely, red in the face, swiggin' out of his bottle of whatever like he was thirsty or something.  :)  Anyway, he, of course, makes one of his negative remarks about how the weather is.  He doesn't miss a chance, whenever we pass each other in the park, while walking, to say how crappy the weather is or if it is a nice day, he'll say, for example "Gee, it almost feels decent today."

After he says something that I don't really feel like fully absorbing in my brain because I know how his mind works, partially, I ask him, nicely, if he is okay.  No sarcasm to my tone, whatsoever.  He breathes in, sort of okay, but his breathing is a bit ragged.  Based on this and his appearance, I had asked if he was okay.  If he needed any assistance.  Ever since I've had earlier dramatic incidents, this year, of people collapsing in front of me or onto me, in my arms, I'm a little anxious.  I'm ready to call 911 on his crazy, obnoxious, old ass.

But he says that he's okay and I walk on my usual path.  Apparently, he was "okay" because I saw him walking again.  I tried to say hello to him and get him to stop, briefly, to ask how he was but he ignored me and made sure I knew he was doing it on purpose.

I thought he was being silly, vain and stupid.  So I laughed each time as distance separated us when we walked in opposite directions.  The next day, he must have known he looked like an ass because of his attitude because he immediately engaged me in a conversation about trips he and his wife have taken to Hawaii and other locations.  At least, he isn't a total turd.

When people start conveying personal info, it's usually easier for me and quite a few people, I notice, to warm up to them.  They seem more human.  That's the lesson I take from it during my experiences of these kind.  People play odd games.  I like the straightforward, honest approach.  Why be something you're not?  Don't fear!  Show yourself-- flaws, talents, interests and all.

By the way, my neighbor, across the street, has a dozen flags in his yard.  Big flagpoles with American flags in his small yard. I don't know why he has them there.  Memorial Day is quite a long time from now.  I took a picture of his front yard-in case he kills me later on.  He reminds me of the Bruce Dern character of the movie "The Burbs."  The neighbor across the road from us is always sitting in his lawn chair in his open garage, watching the movements of all in the neighborhood.

  

True Tales of Perfectly Normal Kelly

Disclaimer:  The following stories should be read as if they were written by someone completely sane, always politically correct and sensitive of others' feelings.  They, most importantly, were written by somebody with a sense of humor.  Scared?  Don't be!  I'm here to hold your hand as you take this special journey with me on my latest incidents of pure, wholesome normalcy.  I promise not to give you that special smile, while we walk, that says 'I won't bash your head in with this bronze statue of Zues fucking a dolphin while the dolphin is porking a young handjob-maiden', I have behind my back, when you turn head away, next.  You don't know how often you come across that common stylish item in those fancy antique stores, worldwide.  

 I farted.

But less importantly, I was taking my daily walk at the local park other day.  It was a beautiful day, full of sun and a plethora of blooming trees and there was no one there to possibly bother me.  Sure, I'm certainly a social butterfly that desperately needs adulation and continuous attention until I'm nauseous of the sticky slobbers of a googly-eyed stalker smooching on my ass because the stalker glorifies me... but sometimes, I just need some alone time.  Like about 80% of the time.

Actually... I don't know what these guys are and what they're thinking.  My  ambition to find out where they come from and so on has been replaced by sudden feelings of ambivalence.  Like, I don't know whether to bash this one dude's head in with a gargantuan frozen elephant turd or become inspired and secure, knowing that the human race will come together one day, not give a shit about material possessions and place honesty and understanding at the top of their priorities.   Again, I farted.

Note:  Googly-eyed fish will target and viciously attack your taint unless you have properly cleansed it to the point where it no longer carries the bouquet of aromas made up of shit, piss or pork.  Because, you know they say humans smell like pigs or whatever... especially while they're burning.  Look it up if you want to debate me about this most interesting of subjects while I busy myself with not being the least bit sarcastic.


Join Facebook!  See the attention craving, crack-like addicts who won't stop commenting about that same boring shit, day after day!  Watch people watch other people because they hear they are celebrities and that means something ridiculously important!  Ya ever see a dumbass follow a trend to be more popular?  Ya ever see a monkey picking a nit off another monkey in a zoo or while you're out on safari?  Ya ever witness the increasing lack of creativity and open mindedness of anyone or mass of "anyones?"  :)   People remind me of that stuff and more.  Think about it.  And yes, I already know why they, the monkeys, pick the nits.  But think about redundancy, for one thing.  Jesus Christ in a snack pudding offering soul-saving bargains!  Just think!

As I was taking my daily walk in the beautiful park, I cut a fart (go figure, huh?) and I squirt o' wee bit of shit in my underwear, of course.  I don't care.  As long as it's not running down my legs and causing a pond of chocolate delight around my feet, I continue onward to the bathroom.

I go in, clean the little bit of poop juice in my underwear, wipe the stuff from my asshole, place a small wad of toilet paper between the spots in the soiled fabric and my buttocks and when I get myself together again, shorts pulled up and so on, I wash my hands, thoroughly, go out the door and am automatically confronted with a large, six and a half foot tall guy, walking toward me, only a few feet away.  He's wearing about a 5X sized purple shirt, walking towards me like a zombie, arms stretched out, forward direction.

No kidding about any of this.

He makes sounds with his mouth.  I'm dazed by this sight, this giant monstrosity of flesh and insanity and my semi-severe anxiety disorder kicks in overdrive.  Momentarily, I cannot move.

It sounds like he's saying, "Arburgagog Goalpostical Blarrrrrrrgh!"  But I'm not sure.  I was frightened and in shock.  I just know he wasn't speaking English.  I also felt shit start to rumble in my colon again, threatening to erupt from ye ol' blow hole.  In other more sensitive wording. I figured I was about to have a repeat performance of the other fiasco I just endured.  This sudden attack, that would have probably scared the shit out of most anyone besides me, made my head spin, wondering what carnival freak show I suddenly happened upon.

 I saw a shirt this other day.  He might has well as worn this shirt:

      

I have since learned, by actually being curious enough to find out what Doma Arigato means, that one of it's meanings come from the language of the Japanese.  Domo Argato translates, in English as: Thank you very much. In his case, I suppose it could also mean "Thank you very much for giving me the opportunity of giving you a heart attack and instant bowel movement."

I quickly came to my senses, before he was a foot away and darted out the park bathroom door entrance.  While walking, quickly, on my pained feet and scrambling away as if I was being chased by Bigfoot's deranged uncle, I realized four things.  One, I was successful in commanding my buttocks to keep in any fecal matter.  Two, I think the boy/man was autistic and had a "solid wall of retard" for a body.  Shhh... My sensitivity and naturally instilled political correctness is leaking out again.  And three, about as most importantly, his caretaker or mother or whoever he was with, obviously, was a middle aged, unconcerned person who saw what occurred and sat on a bench seeming not to give a shit about anything.  That could be considered a mistake if the mentally-challenged behemoth was going towards somebody with violent tendencies who didn't scamper away, trying desperately to hold his gravy shits back.  Four, I hadn't taken my Valium that day, yet.

I'm thinking about making a custom made shirt for myself.  It will read:  I'm a sufferer from depression and anxiety disorders.  Please refrain from allowing your own craziness and your human keeping responsibilities "entities" (like mentally retarded youngsters and unbalanced young men and women) and whiny brats to come within a solid yard from me or I will freeze up and/or go on a killing spree.  Thanks!

That might be a little too long and I know most people generally have a low attention span.  I might just go with:  Fuck off!  You people bother me! 


I'm okay with stress when it's not of the sudden shocking kind.  For instance, the other night, my wife and I were riding home in a gusty-as-hell, lightening filled, bucket filling kind of thunderstorm the other night.  I was driving.  I knew I wouldn't panic because I could see, before getting back out onto the interstate highway for the 30 mile trek back home, it was going to be a doozy.  Instead, I calmly drove the truck home, hands firmly and courageously stable on the steering wheel and slowing moved around the ponds of water on the sides of the roads.

As long as I know what's coming, I'm alright.

Yesterday, we had another thunderstorm.  It knocked the electricity out for four hours.  I took a nap in the middle of the thunderstorm.  They had tornado "watches" for several neighboring counties on the TV before I took my nap.  Note:  Four weeks ago, we had a dozen tornadoes ravage our state and a couple nearby states.  I wrote a blog post about it.  When I got up, it was starting to get dark.  I lit a couple candles to see the toilet, furniture that I could stub my toe on and so on.  Then I put on some sweat pants and looked out on the balcony.  Even though it was getting dark, it was beginning to hail quarter sized hailstones, along with 60 mph wind gusts and rain.  And about an hour later the electricity came back on.

Quarter sized hail is nothing for me.  I lived during the "148 tornado and baseball-sized hail stone incident" in 1974.  There was a tornado in our back yard at one point.  I didn't have anxiety disorder back then so I quickly ran to the window, against my screaming parent's will, to check out the very real tornado.  A couple hours later, my younger sister and I started to go outside and collect hailstones like Easter eggs, from the grass, putting them in our Playmate coolers to later store them in the freezer.  Of course, finding no practical usage for them, we threw them back out on the ground after a week.

In hindsight, I should have kept them, went up the big tree in the yard and threw them at cars that passed by our house.  Oh well.

Even though it's fascinating to watch hail, quarter-sized or larger, come down for some people and even me, when I'm in the mood, I am more concerned about my vehicles.  I was hoping it wouldn't damage my truck this time.  Not only is that truck a "deer magnet", but I was thinking that the hailstones might dent the body or crack the glass.

Other than this stuff going on, including a non working AC unit in 87 degree weather and other smaller problems, things seem to be getting better for me.

That's all I got for now.  Have a great weekend!  I'm sure I'll stop by your blog, soon, to offer you a cordial comment full that's sure to be chock full of whimsy and wit.  Beats being chock full of shit, any day of the week, right?  Later!   

Absentee Blogger, Super Blogger, Dumbass Commenter and Unsolicited Advice

Absentee Blogger


That's how I'd best describe myself these days.  I think the last time I posted anything on the blog was about the middle of last month.  I'm reminded of that line from Al Pacino from one of his movies.  I know I won't get it right and I'm too lazy to look it up but it went something like... "No matter how hard I try to get away, they keep pulling me back in."

Feel free to correct me on that or tell me the movie reference as I know somebody reading this probably will.  That is, if somebody took the six to ten seconds to read the first paragraph.  More on that topic later.

Absentee Bloggers will usually go on temporary or permanent absences away from their blogs because of all types of situations.  Deaths in the family.  A project at work.  Having a real job, in general.  Responsibilities.  Vacations.  Unhealthy children.  Or, yes... even having a real life that sometimes keeps you away from your fucking hobby-  Which what blogging is... it's only a hobby folks.  Sometimes, it's a bit of self therapy.  Sometimes, it's you wanting to educate or entertain the strangers out there online.  But, in the end, it's just a hobby.  If you think it's anything more than that, here's your straitjacket!  Do not pass GO.  Instead, check yourself into the mental institution, you hopelessly addicted fucker.  Or seek psychological help of some kind.  I did and it certainly helped me.  Seeeeeeeeee????  :)  And the lopsided smiley face makes it all okay, huh?  

Yes, I know.  My goddamn keyboard is dusty as fuck.  Desk tray is, as well, I know.  Don't care, though.   You may "advise" me to get one of those cans of compressed air or one of those crazy American Republican  presidential wannabes to use their hot air to blow the dust away.  On second thought... no thanks on that idea.  They're all so flagrantly stupid, they would probably just slobber on my keyboard, making a bigger mess than a dude that's heavily addicted to Internet porn- if you catch my drift.  Hope I'm not being my usual subtle self.  :)  You'll note that I have a portable phone that's always nearby or stuck up my ass whenever the next personal or family emergency arises.  Which it will.

Remember:  If you feel absolutely compelled to post something each and every fucking day, you may be a Super Duper Dumbass Blogger (see topic below, later) that needs professional help, not to mention any type of responsibility and/or a goddamn job.

In reference to the previous "pulling me back" quote, the last four weeks have claimed my last strand of sanity and my time.  During my absentee blogger time, I was hit with all manner of health scares stemming from my Dad's Vascular Dementia, his hospital stays where he fell down due to low blood pressure or something else, my wife's own health problems where I was meticulously wrapping her swollen legs up every day, my own insulin prescription crisis (I'm severely diabetic) and last, but certainly not least, my Dad wrecking his car into someone else.  That last incident was expected.  We warned the authorities for years.  We did what we could to prevent it.  Legal, persuasive and everything else kind of ways- beyond imagination.  Luckily, no one got hurt.  And, of course, that's what it took for the right people to finally take action.  A damn accident.

My sister and I could write entire thousand page novels on what we've had to go through the last six years since Dad accidentally left the car running in the basement, which in turn, poisoned my mom to death through the air vents upstairs.  It took me a long time before I could even talk about that.

By the way, Dad is living in an assisted living facility.  His second one.  It's nice.  Amazingly nice.  It's a I-want-to-live-there-when-I-can't-take-care-of-myself kind of nice.  The first one he was living at, well, that, in itself, is a 9 part miniseries, featuring dramatic manhunts, threats to staff from him, breaking rules and full on breakdowns on my part and my sister's end of it.  It wasn't a bad place either, but, things wouldn't stop happening.

NO SOLICITED ADVICE HERE, PLEASE!!!!!


Just in case I wasn't clear, I thought I'd helpfully add a few exclamation points above.  Wonderful of me, wasn't it? 

If you've never read my blog or haven't read about that saddest part of my life, click these links for only a small piece of the never ending saga:

Sorry If I've Caused Concern
Sorry If I've Caused Concern- Part 2 
Sorry If I've Caused Concern- Part 3

I made the mistake of saying a couple sentences about the difficulty of caring for Dad on Facebook and somebody gave me unsolicited advice, assuming that in the 6 years of dealing with his problems- which became our problems, that we had never attempted what he suggested before.  When I read his suggestion, I was only looking to spout off a little to get mild, brief relief on Fuckbook or whatever they call it, I laughed and freaked out just a little when I read the suggestion/assumption and I didn't communicate to the assuming person because I'm not into debating and this person, I knew, would debate and argue something until pigs learned to talk.  It certainly didn't help during "my little freak out" that I was extremely stressed from everything hitting me at once from my wife's problems to my own- which are the same if you get down to it.  When you're married, it's like that.  FYI.

Clue 1: One of the biggest mistakes you can make with me is assuming.  Don't do it!  I've had it done to me far too many times.  Also:  Don't fill in the blanks and tell lies just because you don't know the person or the situation.  Questions are welcomed as long as assumption aren't sneakily thrown in.  My motto has always been:  Always ask, Never assume. 

Clue 1.5:  Unsolicited advice is also a big no no with me, just in case I haven't mentioned that two or three hundred times during the 6 years this blog has been around.  If I ask for advice, only then you can give it to me.

Sometimes, believe it or not, people say shit to just get whatever is troubling them off of their chest or out of their minds for a bit of relief.  Imagine that!

Clue 2: Once I've made my point, I don't argue or debate about the topic any longer.  I might give you a couple paragraphs worth of words back and forth between you and I but that's about it.  And that's if I don't have anything better or more productive to do. In person, if you are errationally determined and choose to "win" the argument or "make your case" or "see the gray areas" (also known as 'splitting hairs', I believe) in everything I say, I will leave you standing, talking to yourself or getting zip for response from me.  Feel free to believe you've "won" the argument or debate when I don't return your brilliant comeback with another brilliant comeback.  It matters not to me.  And when you do it on the internet, I think you're an absolute fool for doing so.  I don't care if both "great debaters" become the best of pals at the end of their battle of words, charts, facts supporting their views that will change after the next day or whatever, it's idiotic.  Period.  Go.  Fuck.  Thyself.  The same goes double for Grammar Nazis.  Please... GET A FUCKING LIFE OR AT LEAST TRY TO ENGAGE IN ACTIVITIES OR RESPONSIBILITIES OUTSIDE OF THE INTERNET.  UNGLUE THY ASS FROM THY OFFICE OR COMPUTER CHAIR, FUCKWAD.  Oh, there goes my delightful subtle side of me exposing itself again.  I gotta watch that.

I'm sure you've seen this before... but have you actually read the words and let their meaning sink inside that big ol' human brain of yours.  Mentally handicapped people have my full respect.  They make people who argue and endlessly debate on the net look like deranged imbeciles that are deserving of being slowly trampled by a hyped up herd of people leaving a Disturbed concert.  I respect the hyped up concert folks more than the "great debaters", as well.  Crush on, dudes and dudettes!  

Anyway, during this last hiatus, I would have much preferred to being in this chair, happily blogging about shit people could laugh and/or think about instead of being imprisoned in endless health scare and moving issues.

Super Blogger

Speaking of irritating people, isn't it about time we got rid of these "Super Bloggers".  You know... these ego-maniacal assholes who need a gazillion fucking followers.  Don't get me wrong!  Or fucking assume!  I don't care how many followers you, I or the next person has but when they promote themselves to death by joining every site, blog and advertise... not to mention sell products bearing their website names, without a drop of true substantial content- it speaks volumes to me about what they're all about.  Superficiality and ego-boosting.  It's a cry for help.  No need to assume.  They flagrantly show IT, celebrate IT and glorify IT, themselves and their site.  Link dropping after every comment on someone's blog post is strategy in their strange game of potential profits or ego-boosting.  They want you to click their ads, buy their shit and follow them like the next messiah.  And if you're "lucky" you may get a comment from them on your own blog once a year.   Again, to those who engage in this self-serving practice... GO.  FUCK.  THYSELF.

If you go to my blog pal, Gary and his funny, observant blog, klahanie, you will see he has posted a bit on this subject, as well.  I advise you to check out his excellent, well written site, too.  Here's the link to the post I'm referring to here.

Did you see where I capitalized the words above where I called no one, in particular, a fuckwad?  I did that in the hopes that you would read those words- which brings me to...

Dumbass Commenter

The Dumbass Commenter excels in leaving comments that shows he, she or it did not read much or any of the post.  Maybe they looked for keywords, big words, bold type words or a tiny chunk of the post to comment on.  Maybe they briefly looked at the pretty or bizarre pictures.  Who knows?  Some will say, "Your site is good.  I follow.  My website is Blahblahblah."  You may call them spammers.  I call them imbeciles.  I say, if you're not interested in my post or someone else's, don't read it and attempt a lay a lame comment in the comment area.  Keep your "following me icon" and your shitty three word or lame comment to yourself.  Gary, of klahanie, also wrote his perspective on this subject.  Look here.  I have to admit.  It's more amusing than my somewhat cutthroat, yet still honest, perspective.  I also have to admit that I'm feeling all warm and fuzzy today, joyfully spreading good cheer to one and all.

Did I happen to mention I'm the King of Subtlety?  Or would that be a mere admirer, user or student of sarcasm or sardonic humor?  It's so hard to tell.

On the bright side, things are finally looking up a little.  No, I'm not talking about my penis becoming erect.  Not that far up.  I'm just saying that through all the bleakness, I see a tiny particle of light at the end of this long, dark, melancholy, jagged tunnel of misery.  Maybe, in a few more weeks, things will get even better.  It depends.

Have you read this far down?  Do you have ADHD?  Or is Lil' Puddin' bored that he or she didn't have a laugh-a-second post to read this time around?  If so... Gosh.  I care a lot.

I'm just kidding, folks.  It's all in good, well meaning fun.  Move along now.  See you or not see you next time I post a delightful story or raging diatribe.  Take care.  I love you.  Would you follow me?  I desperately need  that type of ego boost. Hahahahahahahahaha.  I'm okay. 

The Liebster Blog Award and The Last Day of The Challenge

Yes, at last. Thanks the gods! This is the last day of my self-imposed blog challenge where I have successfully met my goal of putting a new post up on the blog every day for the month of April. I tell you what. I have to say hats off to those bloggers that can post everyday. Either you guys that can do it are lucky enough to have an extra back pocket full of expendable hours or you have the stamina of an enraged bull elephant- whatever it is- kudos to ya! I really admire ya. Whatever it is, I'm impressed.

At the beginning, it wasn't that hard to post everyday. The first two weeks went like a breeze. That third week- a little tougher. But that last week, all hell broke loose and I didn't think I was going to make it. During the last week of April, everything was coming at me and the Mrs. from every direction. Health scares involving blood clots and risk of heart failure... check. Wife getting a new job with some unexpected problems accompanying that bit of good news involving the new job... check. Family gathering tensions around Easter... check. Being lied to by my wife's present-for-the-moment employers (for only another week) and thus creating panic and problems for several days... check. Lack of sleep from all of these worries and then some... check. All of that- in one week. And yet, here I am, hanging onto my last shred of sanity. I even managed to do a successful, hilariously twisted guest post, during this self-imposed blog challenge, on LilPixi's blog, It's a Lollipop World, while she is still mending from her surgical procedures.

Damn, I'm the man. Insanity and grace under pressure. Sure, I cheated a bit with a couple video-or-pictures-only-kind-of posts. Any monkey can do them. But overall, I'd have to say, I'm the greatest. And I'm modest, too. Wink. Wink.

Oh, and did I mention that I got not one, not two but three blog awards during this one month period of time? Man, you love me. You reeeeaaally looooooove meeeeeee. :P

This last week, I have fallen behind on commenting on my fellow bloggers' blogs. I will make reparations for this after today. Because of all the personal trouble and lack of sleep going on in the background, I fell woefully behind in my usual up-to-date blog post commenting. I apologize for this. I'll be taking a break from posting on my blog this following week because I need the rest from all the troubles and also because I want to gradually catch up on the blogs I've been missing out on.

One blogger, in particular, I want to point out, now, is DocStout. He is the blog author of What's Next?- The Unemployed Geek. This guy runs a terrific blog about gaming, movies, comics and many fun, zany subjects. His blog is a fun, informative read that shouldn't be missed and I truly appreciate the award he just gave me not long ago. I can now add the Liebster Blog Award to my nearly exploding-from-within trophy case. Look in the furthest right hand column for said bulging case. Tee hee. Gosh, I'm modest.

A special thank you to DocStout for this special award of acknowledgement. You're pretty damn cool, dude.

I thanks the gods the rules for this particular blog award are simple and to the point:

The Liebster Blog Award. Like many other blogging awards, this one asks you to "pay it forward" by passing it on in turn to deserving blogs, particularly 3-5 blogs with less than 300 followers.

Hooray! No redundant questions or over reiterated facts I have to answer and say about myself, for a change. What a relief!

In accordance to the rules and because I like to spread the awards around a bit when I pass them on- I want to award these three very worthy award recipients and I ask that my readers please check these awesome bloggers out. I only award those who I deem worthy. Here they are:

* Pickleope is a recent blog I've come to befriend and enjoy. The writing is extremely funny and entertaining. "Sketch comedy in written form, a Pickleope is the charmingly absurd offspring of a pickle and an antelope."

* Drama Queen from White Trash Chronicles writes this blog. This blog features funny subject matter and down-to-earth true life tales. Drama Queen offers a fresh honest approach in everything she writes. Highly recommended.

* Porkstar from Le Porkstar has a trippy, balls-to-the-wall outlandish blog that really jibes with me in both it's humor and outright wackiness. If you want to read humorous stories and unique observations on life, check out this dude's blog.

So there you have it, folks. I'm taking a well deserved week off from posting on my own blog but I'll be back after that. Meanwhile, I'm going to rest up a bit and gradually catch up on the rest of your sites. Don't worry. I haven't forgotten any of you. Take care, all of you and be well.

One Hundred and Sixty Four Tornadoes and At Least 280 Deaths

I found this to be more important to talk about than any Royal Wedding, any birth certificate of a current president or all the rest of that crap the media blathers on about these days. Let's get real, folks. This is real news involving real lives. And it really puts things into perspective.

The National Weather Service reported 164 tornadoes struck, yesterday, on April 27. Wednesday's tornadic supercell storms, that killed upwards of 280 people in a wind-driven rampage across the Midwestern United States, is the first of its caliber to have been forecasted and monitored through its progression with such first-hand accounts and eyes-in-the-sky intensity. Most of the tornadoes were at least a mile wide. Here's footage of some of the tornadoes captured by people, who, in my opinion, got just a little too close. 280 people now, have been noted as being dead from the destruction, for the record. But the count is still rising as more bodies are found.

Second Round of Auditions For The Circus

If you missed the previous "round of auditions", click here, friends and neighbors! It might help you when reading this second part of the story. Either that or it will transport you to a far away loony bin, where purple cross-eyed elves and Happy Ewes in crotchless panties frolic about you as you drool, uncontrollably.

As the family of mentally impaired clown midgets left Asmodeus' Astounding Circus, happy to be newly employed, the ringmaster, Gregorio, grabbed a flask of whiskey from his pocket and took a swig. Byron Asmodeus, the owner of the circus, was a large man with dark brown eyes with just a hint of red surrounding the pupils. The look on his face seemed to convey much wisdom. Byron had owned the circus for 20 odd years. His ringmaster, Gregorio, was his hardworking manager.

Asmodeus stood up from the desk to stretch his long legs after hours of judging, took out a joint, lit it and inhaled deeply. After exhaling, he looked to his ringmaster and asked, "Who's next?"

Gregorio put the flask back in his pocket and announced, "Next, we have a very different group of characters up for audition, my old friend." Asmodeus nodded, rubbed his goatee and said, "Fresh meat for my entertainment."

After this was said, the potential performers for the circus were escorted into the tent by a very large, muscle bound behemoth by the name of Gonza. Gonza was a cruel, burly man who enjoyed his job as Head of Security for Asmodeus. Many claimed Gonza had crushed the skulls of dozens of victims, with his massive hands, in the past. Asmodeus knew of Gonza's past and had hired him, almost immediately.

Asmodeus and Gregorio sat down at the large wooden desk after they had taken a short recess between rounds of auditions.

The first performer stepped onto the stage. Gregorio promptly introduced him, saying, "This is Mr. Wait and See."

Asmodeus asked the man, who seemed weak in appearance, what he did.

Mr. Wait and See said, with little enthusiasm, "I wait and see what will happen as we continue to experience global warming and volatile climate change and ignore all the obvious signs of the evidence around us until civilization crumbles, as it has before, and we, as a supposedly intelligent species, die off."

Asmodeus nodded, considered what Mr. Wait and See had said and then commanded Gonza to come over. Asmodeus explained, "Gonza will assist you in your performance."

Gonza cheerfully and ruthlessly grabbed the puny man's head with both enormous hands and with sheer force, popped Mr. Wait and See's head like a candy-filled piñata. Instead of candy, however, blood, brain matter and bone fragments were sent flying in all directions, hitting everyone in a twenty yard radius. Mr. Wait and See's body fell, lifeless, to the floor.

Asmodeus licked the blood off his lips and then shouted, "Clean up on stage 3!"

Not long after this, a little curly haired dwarf waddled up to the stage with a mop, bucket and other cleaning supplies. Quicker than their eyes could register what they were seeing, the dwarf moved with mercurial speed and had the mess gone in seconds. Gonza took the headless corpse and fed it to the ravenous wolves outside. He laughed heartily and then said, "You don't have to 'wait' for your dinner today, my friends."

The wolves quickly gobbled up the body, with teeth gnashing, tearing the corpse into shreds. With their appetites satiated, the wolves slept comfortably, occasionally cutting the odd fart or two.

"Next, we have The Amazing Trixie to possibly entertain us," explained the ringmaster.

Asmodeus eyed the college girl's voluptuous figure and speculated on how he would enjoy having the young woman as a guest, later, inside his mansion.

"And what can you do for me, today?" asked the ancient circus owner, spittle forming at the corner of his mouth.

The girl, completely overjoyed and oblivious to the fact that someone had just been heinously murdered in front of her, was ignoring Asmodeus and Gregorio. She was texting away on her little electronic contraption about her plans for the upcoming weekend.

"Ahem!" shouted Gregorio, in an attempt to get her attention.

Trixie, startled, looked up and coyly asked, "Oh, it's my turn?" Her sizable breasts jiggled as she bounced up and down, bubbly and full of surprising energy.

Asmodeus stared evilly at Trixie and whispered, "Tell us what you're going to do and do it... Now."

The Amazing Trixie giggled and then replied, "Well, um, heh heh, I'm kinda doing it right now."

Ringmaster Gregorio demanded, "Explain yourself, girl!"

Trixie brushed her blonde hair back, laughed and said, "Well, um, I'm able to text and text and text and never stop, no matter what happens around me."

Asmodeus glared at her. Trixie's once overly perky smile turned upside down into a frown as she added, "Well, um, until now."

Asmodeus rubbed his chin and let out a howl of laughter. Trixie was relieved, taking this as a sign that "all was good in the neighborhood", so to speak.

Crimson horns sprouted, suddenly, from the top of Asmodeus' head. Showing the true nature of who and what he really was, Asmodeus stood up and calmly walked over to Trixie. The demon took Trixie by the chin with his clawed hand and with fiery eyes looking down into her almost completely innocent face, he calmly said, "Gonza, will you please escort the young woman outside so that I may confer with her, in private, later?"

Gonza bounded onto the stage, grabbed Trixie around the waist and hurriedly whisked the college girl off the stage. When this happened, she dropped her texting device. Before she was exited out of the tent, everyone heard her exclaim, "Wait! I dropped my phone! I need to text my gal pals about the new color I painted my toenails!"

By this time the other potential auditioning performers were shifting, uneasily, from foot to foot. They looked up at the demon, Asmodeus, who had somehow grown taller in size and more fierce looking. Trembling, a few of them pissed their pants in fright.

Ignoring their fear, Ringmaster Gregorio waved the next one up onto the stage and introduced a man that was clothed in an expensive suit and tie. He seemed very out of place.

"Next, we have Speaker of The House, John Boner."

The politician nervously corrected the ringmaster and said, "Uh...My name is... um... pronounced 'Bay-ner'... actually."

"Boner, it is, then," said Gregorio, unflinchingly.

Asmodeus bent down, inches from the Speaker of The House's orange-ish colored face and menacingly inquired, "What is it that you believe you can do for me in order to possibly entertain our audiences in the future, Mr. Boner?"

Normally outspoken Republican, John Boehner, hesitated at first, then explained, "Well... I can... cry at will in order to seem... genuinely passionate... for the media and the American public."

"Yes, go on," demanded the demon, with smoke rising up from his hellish form.

Boehner continued, "And I am able, um, eh, to help convince members of congress and the American public that... we really have no need for nationwide healthcare that would allow even the poorest of them access to health insurance."

Boehner paused for a few seconds before saying, "And I have done much more than that... to cause, umm, needless misery for my personal gain. For instance, I..."

The demon held up his clawed hand to stop Boehner from droning on about his achievements.

Asmodeus grinned at the evil of which the politician spoke of. Nevertheless, the demon circus owner was considering the weaknesses of the man before him.

The demon sighed and then replied, "Though you show remarkable qualities in the political arena in which you dwell, I'm afraid there is no position you can fill here."

Boehner seemed sad and caused himself to shed a perfect single tear after hearing this decision.

"Awww," said Asmodeus, "Please don't be despondent, Mr. Boner."

The Speaker of The House looked up and smiled, believing that the demon was taking pity upon him. No sooner than this thought pass in his mind that the great, terrifying figure from the depths of hell rammed his arm down Boehner's throat and slowly pulled out the pathetic man's heart, intestines and other vital organs from his body. The politician's screams were muffled by the demon's arm and his body shook as blood and gore gushed out of every orifice.

Finally, the body fell to the stage floor. The head of the human was an unfamiliar mangled mess as every bone, eye and other parts of his face had been reduced to mush.

Gonza walked over with a garbage bag and scooped up the remains. Before exiting the tent, Gonza said, "Thank you, Master. The wolves will have full bellies, tonight."

Asmodeus laughed, heartily and then replied, "Just be sure to give them something for the indigestion they're likely to have with this last heap of human garbage."

Everyone burst out with gales of nervous laughter. Asmodeus sat back down and asked, "Who wishes to perform for me next?"

This story will likely be continued at a later time... at my convenience. :-)

Escaping Through Movies and Other Means

By whatever means necessary, people going through some personal hell should be able to take a break from it and escape for awhile, as long as it doesn't knowingly make the personal hell worse. It's not avoiding the problems in your life. It's just taking a break. Let me be perfectly clear for those who confuse the two. I'm all for this idea, since I'm going through my own hell right now and I'm trying to tip toe through the land-mines of things that could complicate this period of life further.

Seeing movies is a great way to escape from times of stress and pain and -good golly- I've been trying to catch one here and there any time I've had the chance the last couple weeks. Whether you just lost your job, have family members giving you grief or you're just sick and fucking tired of all the negative news and stupidity and cruelty of society, I'm a firm believer in escaping for awhile.

Here's what works for me:

Seeing a movie. It's quick and mostly effortless. Make sure the flick is either funny, action-packed, interesting or any and all of the above. Do not see a movie that you suspect will bring your sorry ass down further into the abyss like a "weeper". A "Terms of Endearment" type of movie. Watch a "weeper" when you're strong enough or want to feel like complete shit. For some fuckers, that's their thing- to have a good cry. In my mind, these are folks who are not experiencing enough pain and suffering in the real world. With that said, let me introduce you to my friend, Mr. Baseball Bat. Stop by my humble abode and I will gladly give you your money's worth of suffering by caving your skull inward with one of my favorite instruments of pain- the baseball bat. If you like, I'll even explain to you what all of your personal flaws are, to encourage sadness within you, while you desperately attempt to suck in your last dying breaths. Hell, I won't even charge you the price of a movie matinée. How's that for a bargain?

Reading a book. I know some of you younger folks probably don't know what a book is since computers and electronic gadgets have become so popular in the last couple of decades, but books are wonderful things. A good example of a book can be found at the top left corner of this post. See if you can find it! Oooh. Ahhh.

Let your eyes feast upon the written word of a book and let your mind travel to different realms and/or engage in imaginative experiences. Make sure the book is in the same type category as the movie I prescribed above. No weepers, please, or I'll have to bring out Mr. Baseball Bat to have a word with you. Again, no charge. I'm doing the lord's work here and it is always a pleasure to help out.

Best of all, with books no electricity is needed. If you can point, click, text, twitter, Facebook and all the rest of that shit (and really, it is shit), I'm betting you can turn a goddamn page. I know it's old fashioned to read and turn the page of a real papery paged book but think of it as a challenging game if you must. Books can be found at the library. You do know what a library is, don't you?

Going out amongst nature. Even if you are living in a new ice age type area, like I am and will be for the next century or longer (it will feel that way, anyhow), being amongst the natural surroundings of the great outdoors will help to clear your head many times. If you must, put on four to five layers of clothing on yourself and roll out the back door like an overinflated beach ball. Staying inside your car to avoid frostbite is also a good idea, too. Without your fingers, you can't text and twitter that well, unless you are adept at using your nose or dick on the keyboard.

At the very least, you will likely find peace in nature, provided you are far away from people. Remember, kids... People = Chaos and/or Stress. Avoid people as much as possible unless they, by some miracle, instill feelings of positivity and contentment in you. I've heard of people like this before but I've never had the pleasure of meeting them in real life. I think they may belong to a tribe of mythical creatures. Who knows?

The following are some reviews of escapist type movies I've recently seen:

Tron: Legacy 3D

I liked this movie a lot. Often times, Hollywood will produce 3D movies that are absolute crap and didn't need to be produced in 3D in the first place. For me, this movie lived up to it's hype. The storyline was simple but interesting enough. The acting was great. The special effects were fantastic.

And Olivia Wilde gets naked (just kidding- but wouldn't it be great if she did?).

Jeff Bridges stars in the movie in two separate roles. In one role, he plays a computerized clone of himself that appears to look the same as he did in the first movie when he was younger. In the other role, he is the same guy, human, but 30 years older. He's much wiser and kind of beaten down by being trapped in the world of Tron for so freaking long. When his son comes back for him in the world of Tron, it is a happy, yet a little bit of a bittersweet reunion. While the years have somewhat diminished him, he has gained a lot of wisdom and it shows with both his words and actions. This movie was not exactly what I expected it to be and I'm glad of it. I liked the ending, too.

Little Fockers

This movie, starring Ben Stiller, Robert De Niro and the cast of the first two movies of this franchise was hilarious. Again, Gaylord "Greg" Focker plays the victim and De Niro is his antagonist. This time around, the story is centered on Jack Byrnes (De Niro), after suffering a minor heart attack, going about pressuring Ben Stiller's character to be the main dude to take over being the head of the family if and when De Niro's character bites the big one (dies). There are a lot of funny scenes in this movie, including one where Greg has to stab Jack in or around his old wang because of a prolonged boner as a result of taking too many erectile dysfunction pills.

I also like the scenes of the Early Human School, where Greg Focker and Jack Byrnes believe this school will provide the best education for Greg's kids. Laura Dern's character, Prudence, acts as the headmistress or something like that of this psycho-babble-ly, artsy-fartsy type of learning institution. The things they put these kids and their parents through is entertaining, humorous and disturbing. See the movie to know what I mean!

Though this 3rd installment of the movie franchise isn't as good as Meet The Parents or Meet The Fockers, this flick will give you something to think about and laugh at during the recession burdened times we're living in.

True Grit

A remake of the John Wayne western classic, this movie was good because it was very well acted and genuine in it's depiction in the way people likely talked, dressed and acted in the American Old West. Jeff Bridges stars in this movie, as well. Though I didn't think the last ten minutes of the movie was a satisfying as the original, I still think it was well worth seeing because of the storyline, the authenticity of how things appeared and the way people acted during those days.

Plus, I like the part where an outlaw takes out his big knife and chops off the fingers of this other outlaw who's trying to give Bridges' character some much needed information on the whereabouts of a certain gang of criminals. While the guy is holding up his blood spurting hand and screaming, the same outlaw with the knife shoves the knife blade in his chest right before Bridges' Cogburn character shoots the knife wielder in the head at point blank range.

Funny stuff, really. You'll have to see it for a chuckle.

Outlander

This sci-fi/Viking action movie is one I rented a couple months ago. I liked it so much, I bought it, recently. For some odd reason, this satisfying movie didn't do well at the Box Office in 2008. For me the acting, storyline, special effects and message it conveys is superb. Without giving too much away, it is about a man from a futuristic society who crash lands on Earth during the era of the Vikings. At one point during the movie, he tells of the sorrow of losing his wife and child shortly after helping to massacre a race of beings that prove to be "too much in the way of his people's expansion and progress".

While these moments of truth are sad, they don't control the entire movie with it's "weepiness". This movie has a vital message and is basically the same message that Avatar expresses- which causes me to bring up another point. There were some critics of Avatar that bashed James Cameron because he was rehashing a point of view or message that other movies have made. And that is, is that it is ethically and morally wrong to massacre an entire society simply so another group of people can move in, set up their communities and take control. In my opinion, I don't care how many movies convey this same message. It should be repeated and repeated until when and if we ever finally get it into our heads that it is wrong.

Here's a short clip of Outlander, that takes place shortly after Jim Caviezel's character crash lands on Earth.

Well folks, that's it for this post. I apologize for not being at your websites, lately and commenting but I've been pretty busy with family obligations and woes. In another hour, I have to pick Dad up from the assisted living place to take him to the doctor to have the staples removed from his head. You can read the previous post to learn how he injured himself in case you're interested. Hopefully, he'll keep his outrageous behavior, verbal abuse and negativity down to a tolerable level. The head injury hasn't kept him from his usual asshole antics, unfortunately.

So wish me luck on dealing with him today.

I'll catch up with all of you soon at your sites and in other avenues of communication. I think I'll be getting a short break from my obligations after this day is done. In conclusion, happy escaping, everyone!

Moving Madness

I haven't been doing anything blog-related lately because I've been moving my Dad's shit (not literal shit) back and forth from one box to another or one room to a truck to a storage unit for a month and this week has been the worst so far. My back feels like it is just recently on the mend and my mind is just beginning to feel that same way.

The post/poem I wrote before this, was more or less written to let you know I was still kicking. And screaming. And only in the last few days, regaining my sanity a little.

The Story

Unfortunately, when my wife and I got back from our cruise (of which we really should have just stayed on one of the islands) our family, especially my sister and I were plunged into 4 freakin' weeks of MOVING HELL. We, a dozen family members and friends and I had to move my ungrateful Dad's copious amounts of crapola from his house, since he sold his house, to different relative's houses, storage units and other locations.

Dad's constant verbal abuse, accusations that people were stealing from him while helping him move, complete stubbornness of his things to be taken to this storage unit or that 20 yard dumpster made us go fuckin' bonkers.

I understand that he feels that he's somehow letting go of fond memories (or just average memories) of the house since selling it, but goddamn... Don't take it out on us! Don't act as if we don't have lives --that we now have to put on hold.

Mufasa, our 16 year old cat, who died during this moving fiasco will be missed, tremendously I miss her a lot. She would always jump up on the sofa and put her little paws on my leg and she remained playful up until the last week she was alive. It wasn't too much of a shock for me to lose her, however, because I could see she was dying the last few days. I couldn't do anything about it because the vet's office was closed those days and I was moving Dad's shit under a deadline. In fact, while Mufasa was breathing her last few breaths at the vet's office, I was waiting for a fucking retarded dumpster dude to drop off a goddamn dumpster at Dad's house. The dumpster dude was a redneck hick with an I.Q. the size of an ant's dick. He had trouble finding a town that was only two small towns away from his own. Even that is a long story.

I haven't even had the time to show my sister and Dad my cruise pics or give them any souvenirs yet. I spent my birthday moving the last of his shit and putting up with his shit for the last time for, hopefully, a very long time. I need a goddamn break from the emotionally, physically draining events of the past four weeks.

What's that old saying I've seen on bumper stickers before? Oh, oh yeah. It goes something like... WANNA GET EVEN WITH YOUR KIDS?... LIVE LONG ENOUGH TO BE A BURDEN TO THEM

So here's the thing: I wrote part of what I'm talking about a few days ago and I debated on whether to put this light hearted story on the blog or not. I like to put deeply personal shit on the blog once in awhile, as you may well know. It helps gets things off my chest and lightens my spirit or mood. Most of the time. On the other hand, it's like living the shit all over again.

If there is a lesson to be learned here it would be this:

Every goddamn parent out there in the world had better start wising up and having a plan ready so that when you die, sell your house or any other huge event and any other obvious responsibility relating to you, it's taken care of. Put it on paper! See the lawyers! Talk to experts!

Do it all now before something unexpectedly horrible happens to you where you can't focus or keep records. Put old crap in storage now and then and above all... Don't be a goddamn hoarder! Think of all that old worthless shit you've got holed up in a ten room, two story house. And Remember This! Your kids aren't fuckin' boulder holding pack mules with signs on their backs saying "Fuck me emotionally up, please!

Don't make their last memories of you into some kind of mentally diseased slop, you selfish fucking breeders of the world!

Thank you. This has been a public service announcement. This has also been somewhat cathartic. Getting better minute by minute.

Days of Intensity and Leisure

That's right. I'm taking a brief goddamn break from my 5 QUESTIONS series. What's it to ya, buster?

Don't work yourself up in a soapy lather about it, unless you're a hot chick, naked and covered with said lather and you send me photos of ya. I have several more bloggers lined up, with their answers turned in, already, that will be featured after this post. Stay tuned!

Around a week ago, my buddy, Steve and I took a drive to a place called Bon El. Before we got out on the road towards Bon El, Steve was talking the area up as if it were some sort of mecca.

Before he mentioned it, I had never heard of the place.

"Oh, you have to see this place," he said, "It's beautiful."

Now I've known Steve for about, eh, twenty five years. So, we've been friends for awhile. We've been to quite a few outdoorsy places that has some pretty terrific scenic views. Places down in Kentucky, around and in the Red River Gorge, for instance. Red River Gorge is a large part of the Daniel Boone National Forest. The Gorge, a heavily wooded area with dozens of trails, has some fantastic spots, overlooking creeks, wild rock formations, a river and natural rock bridges.

Steve, another friend, his German Shepherd and I camped out on the edge of a cliff during one adventure at The Gorge. The place is a lot of fun with much to see and do. Check out the link above if you're interested.

My point is: If Steve says there is a outdoor spot he thinks is worth checking out, I'm usually on board with the idea.

Steve was driving. He said he knew the way there because he had been there several times before. So, with a drink in one hand and a bag full of sandwiches, we drove to what turned out to be a very secluded spot out in the country, where the hillbillies flourished and the pot plants grown by the residents could easily be smelled. Unfortunately, I did not see any such plants. But I did see hillbillies and loads of trailer trash. Some folks had teeth. Some, not. Some good ol' boys had pick up trucks. Some had the stereotypical broken down cars on blocks. Jeff Foxworthy would have a lot of material for his comedy routine if he ever visited the place.

Not quite as bad as a scene from the movie, "Deliverance" but it wasn't the kind of place you would wish your car would break down.

Which is kinda funny, by the way, because Steve said that there was a slim chance the steering on his car might go out, due to some damaged tie rods, according to what a mechanic was telling him the day before. He told me this about halfway through the drive of the heavily wooded area.

I laughed and said, nervously, "I really don't feel like being gang-raped by hillbillies and forced to squeal like a pig today."

On the way through the curvy, sometimes crumbling road, we stopped very briefly at this metal archway that stood at the beginning of another road. The roundish archway had the letters KKK stretching from left to right and some other wording I couldn't make out. I didn't want to get out of the car to go read it, either. Steve said, "That road leads to where the Klu Klux Klan holds their meetings."

I was slightly shocked and asked, "No shit?"

I thought the KKK had completely disappeared from around here. He agreed that it was fucked up that they were still in existence, especially not that far from home.

He nodded and assured me that the KKK really did have their white-robed, white supremacy loving, minority hating, moronic ceremonies down there at nights. I said, "Let's keep moving, man." I didn't want to take any chances with the Klan, either. To me, they're a bunch of narrow minded, violent nut cases that deserve to have 6 foot burning crosses rammed up their asses.

We quickly moved on.

Some time after that, we reached Bon El. It was, indeed, beautiful. Water ran in wild and curvy paths over a creek bed. Just beyond it, on the same road, was a long, graffiti covered tunnel that had been built during The Great Depression. Over the tunnel was a working, running railroad track. Around the tunnel was solid dirt and rock.

This picture gives you a tiny bit of an idea of what it looked like like. It's not an actual picture of the place. And it really doesn't do it justice in how it looks and feels. The feeling you get from experiencing the scene is one of quiet serenity. You are very much at peace when you go there. There's just something about it.

As we're driving back home, to civilization, Steve asks me what I thought of that beautiful spot in the middle of nowhere. I responded, "It's hard to describe. It's surreal. Very quiet and serene. And beautiful. But I wouldn't want to end up there in the middle of the night." He looked at me, in all seriousness and said that was almost the same description that everyone gave him whenever they spoke of that very specific area.

Even though the trek leading to Bon El was slightly unnerving, I'm pleased we went there. It was cool, man, cool. And I really needed the feeling of peace after what had happened the day before.

I had a traumatic experience the day before, with my eldest cat, Mufasa. She's a fourteen year old, long-haired calico who we treat like our own baby. Hell, we have several professionally photographed pictures of her hanging off our walls. That's how nuts we are about our cats.

Anyway, after giving her a bath, which causes a bit of stress for her, especially when my wife sticks her gloved soapy hand in her crack for a good scrubbing (Mufasa can't lick her poopy butt back there because she's a waddling chubby blob of fur), my wife notices a couple knots in Mufasa's fur around her neck. Knots that she later tries to brush out with a small wire cat comb but she can't. They're too fucking matted.

So... She wants me to cut the knots out with a pair of scissors.

As for the bath, that routine usually goes something like this: The cat, while getting bathed, makes the damnedest noise, between all of the hissing and acting as if she's going to bite off a finger from the one holding her at her front (which would be me) and she seems to be possessed by the devil. But then, I supposed anyone who was getting that treatment would behave the same way.

When it comes to cutting the knots out Mufasa's fur, I'm usually quite careful not to cut into her skin. I thought I had been just as careful this time, but obviously, that wasn't the case. Somehow, I managed to get some of her neck skin between the scissor blades. Then she began bleeding and the wound opened a little more. I was freaking out. My wife was screaming at me. The familiar old panic of my stress disorder seized me and I just stood there, horrified. Moments passed before I became coherent, went to the room next door and pounded my fist on the wall. Then with a little strength and resolve, I rushed back into the bathroom and asked my wife to lay her on the bed and continue petting her. She quickly did as I asked. Then I got the rubbing alcohol and antibiotic cream from the cabinet and applied both of them directly to my cat's wound.

Mufasa continued to bleed for the next ten minutes. My wife and I were sick about it, thinking she might die. I was also having my own deep, troubled thoughts, thoughts of the helplessness I felt when mom passed away. I think that might be why I can't take stress or shocking situations any longer. There's a connection there. While it's happening, it feels like I'm under a spell.

Unfortunately, all the veterinary offices were closed that day. I called our main one and gave them the story of what happened on their answering machine and that I would call again as soon as they opened in the morning. The only hope we had was that the bleeding had finally stopped.

In the end, we took her to the vet's office the next day. We had to leave her to be sedated and stitched up. When we picked Mufasa back up four hours later, our veterinarian made an odd joke about the whole ordeal that I couldn't understand (still can't) and was frankly, stunned by. I guess he noticed the expression on my face and said that he had accidentally done the same thing with his own cat while trying to cut a knot out. He said it's easy to do, especially when they're long-haired and the matted clumps are so thick that you don't know where the hair ends and the skin begins.

The vet had put four stitches into her neck, closing the dime sized wound. Our cat is doing fine now, obviously healing and is quietly purring and sleeping in the chair next to me. The baby has been repaired. All is well now and I am at peace. Hope you are in the same frame of mind.

Take care, everyone.