Joe Cuts His Losses (Or Would That Be... His Leeches?)

I've never been one for making New Years' resolutions.  I don't believe you should make them.  Very few people are successful at meeting this big, grandiose goal that they've substantially hyped up in their heads, at times, that when the goal fails, they either, if they got any stamina of mind in their selves- they might get back up again to try make the goal happen or more often than not- they just quit trying.  If you don't have this super willpower and forward thinking frame of mind, it just isn't happening.  Then you feel like crap for awhile, maybe.

I've been successful at doing what I set out to do a number of times.  Quitting smoking was one of those things.  I might have one or two with a family member, once every six months, but really, it's no longer a habit or desire.  Every so often, when I see somebody with me, normally a family member smoking, I might have one.

In my defense, I don't buy cigs and I don't get to see these family members often.

Oh, for Christ sakes!  I'm going crazy with guilt. AAAAAHHHH!

Must be that dreaded Catholic upbringing.  That's what my friend, Steve, suggested about me once.  LOL.  He's Catholic, too and I think he might have fun with that, too.

I also don't go to church and I enjoy eating cereal while watching animal porn.  I think I saw "Kellogg's Corn Pops" coming out of a monkey penis, while watching a DVD, while it stuck it's dirty dingus in the nostril of a buffalo.  Oh, the shame!  Of course, the final result is a bunch of sticky tissues in your hand.  More shame.

I also don't like to see these fucking positive affirmation images all over the place on the net and in Facebook, in particular.  You can't solve your problems, instantaneously, or become joyful and content by seeing one of these things.  If I would ever feel like I've been cured of all or some of my problems or negative feelings by being a completely sold customer on whatever nilly willy images and words I see, I'd think myself to be a drooling moron with ticks and spiders in his pants.

Then I'd have a career in show business!  :)

Gosh, I feel better already!

Please, for the love of all that feel they must have pouty lips, get realistic and and come back to reality for a visit.  Everyone's insipid positive affirmation images on Facebook give me the runny shits.

But I was watching a news TV program, this morning and these two advisers, that had fields in psychology, were offering this advice about resolutions some people make every beginning of a new year:

1- Make your resolutions proceed in small steps.  For example, set your goal to be accomplished in two weeks.  If you get past the two week or two day or any other short maker of time, add more time to the resolution.

2- If you're overeating or overdoing anything, do what ever is giving you pleasure but do it in increasingly smaller increments.  For example, instead of eating a horse trough's worth of fatty barbecue ribs, today, trying eating a meal that can be fit on a plate and then continue decreasing the amount of food or changing over to something with lighter calories.  Then, go from there.

They said more but I can't remember the rest.  Maybe if you insert your genitals in a old wooden mouse trap and the bar comes down hard, with a loud crack, it will magically come to me.  I'm not asking for much, I believe.

Wait a minute...  Oh yeah... #3-  Forgive yourself if you fail with meeting a goal, regarding your resolution- but realize the bigger failure is to not try again.

Right now, I'm going to change the subject.  I'm boring you.  I can tell.  You're doing the droopy head thing you're doing. :)  Yep.

Here's a positive affirmation pic to pep you up:

I swear I don't know what a 'Mexican Microwave' is.  Is that anything like a monkey when he spurts Kellogg's Corn Pops from his penis???

Let's say I've had a conversation with a guy named Joe.  Joe is a guy who seems well adjusted and well meaning.  He has a great sense of humor.  And he's real.  Yes.  He is a real Joe.  His cup runneth over with Joe, even at this moment. Imagine that!

Let's say he's just really real.

We got together at a fast food joint and talked for an hour.  Joe's a friend that seems to listen.  And he's not very judgmental or an annoying constant advice giver that has a degree in making assumptions (unless it's asked for... the advice that is) unless he's talking about self-serving, wealthy political groups.  With these assholes, he's quite judgmental.

Joe said he has been getting so much frustration, verbal abuse and out of control anxiety from a certain relative for years. Ever since a certain tragedy, involving Joe's mother, is concerned, Joe's father's mental state has gotten, admittedly worse, in the last seven years, due to his Dementia and a series of possible mini strokes, but he also suffers from depression.  He waves away help with that last one, of course. All of this is unfortunate and for a long time, Joe, his sister and his cousin would do anything for him, almost.  Instead of seeking help or trying, just a little, to keep his verbally abusive and erratic behavior in check, Joe's father, he explained, just lets go at whoever is near him, unleashing all of his anger and bitterness at those closest to him.

He does it to complete strangers- anywhere.

Joe's father was leaving candles burning at the place for where Joe's mother and father were living, after his mother had passed.  He also left on, for hours, the oven and stove, lights in the rooms, electrical things one would turn off in an acceptable amount of time and more.

Btw, Joe also mentioned his father was finally put in an assisted living place and finally-FINALLY, AFTER YEARS HAD GONE BY- Joe's dad had his car keys taken away due to wrecking his car into someone.  He had wrecked into a guardrail a year before.  Luckily, the woman in the other car, that I mentioned and Joe's father weren't hurt in the incident but it was the final thing that got his driver's license taken away.  It wasn't the fact that five doctors said Joe's father shouldn't be driving.  It wasn't the fact that he went walking through a blizzard across the hills and valleys, alone, for a couple miles, to have a big mug of beer at a bar to wash down his many medications, either.  Any of this could have killed him and then there was more he wanted to say but I cut him off, at one point and I said, sprightly, "Always look on the bright side of life, dude."

Of course, that quick bit of advice picked him right on up.  Whoopee!

Now, Joe said, his father doesn't try to make real friends where he lives.  He blames the kids for everything. Talks about dying whenever he wants attention.  Talks about being betrayed.  This, Joe pointed out, wasn't oozing out of his Dad's pores just because he suffered from Dementia or mini strokes.  He had been verbally abusive, sometimes physically abusive, since Joe was a kid.  Now it was a hundred times worse, he noted.  He wasn't grateful for all the doctor visits we had to take him to or the visits where we would take him out to eat.  Just about anything wouldn't please him.  And Joe says, that sometimes, you just have to cut your emotional leeches.... or losses (if you can call them that). Especially when they make you stutter.

Joe stutters when he's in anxiety-induced situations or if he thinks about his father or grandmother too much.  Joe said his grandmother could suck the goodwill, happiness and patience out of you, too. He told me that, even though I could see that was obvious, from his pale, defeated appearance, when he spoke of his father or grandmother. And now, he said, his stuttering words come popping out of his mouth whenever he's in any kind of tense situation.  And don't get him started on his insane cat that eats paper, cardboard, meows like a demon and chases imaginary enemies.  Joe won't finish his grilled burrito.  He thought his new cat might be the devil, he jested and left that subject alone.  He stuttered a bit, though, and some wilted lettuce slipped out of his mouth.

He shook his head.  Years of trying to please and make negative people content had nearly drained him dry. Though, he said, often enough, that he had told his father about what his father was directly doing to him.  All that Joe's father knew was what was bothering himself.  He didn't ask about Joe's many maladies, recent test results or how things were going, in general, on his end.

I told him, "Yep.  When those people you are closest to, know what they're doing and show that they don't give a flying fuck about your good mental health, it's time to be guilt free and go forward.  Let the negative parasites dwell in their own muck.  You tell them, 'I need a nice big break from you, apathetic fucker.'

Then I told Joe I was kidding on that last part but it made him laugh, anyway.  Want to know a secret?  I was serious on that last bit.  :)  Joe badly needed some laughs.  Any kind of joy, actually, was what he was lacking. Other things were bothering him, too, he said, but he thought that as long as he had the will to push forward and not get stuck in the muck, he would be fine again.

Being stuck in the muck, physically or emotionally, really sucks.

Joe said he would like to think of the way his father used to be and reflect on that.  For a long time, he admired his father and respected him.  He said he still does, especially when he isn't around him these days, for the most part.  Funny how that works, I thought.  Or not.

Then he got a phone call, at the place we were eating.  Joe took out his cell phone and asked, "Yes?"

It turned to be his father, wishing him a happy new year, Joe later revealed and they had talked for a few minutes, without a verbal confrontation.  A small and pleasant miracle.  Joe was instilled with happiness once more.  Joe didn't stutter for the entire night.  Towards the end of the evening, he did say he was going to keep certain people away, at arm's length for his own well being, for the good of his own mental health. at least for a lengthy period of time.  He said, after all, he wasn't a complete or final quitter- on anyone or anything.  He advised his sister (and in a roundabout way, his cousin) to do the same when it came to his father and taking breaks from him or others.  He upsets them, too, but at different levels.

Joe pointed out that his anti-depressant medication, anti-anxiety medication and those wonderful, supposedly uplifting, stupid, fucking positive affirmation pics and words aren't miracle workers.  I nodded my head, in agreement and then replied, "You've got that right."

Joe suddenly stood up and shouted, "Happy New Year!" to everyone at the restaurant and in the blogging world and wished everyone a peaceful year, ahead.

I looked back and gave everyone the finger when Joe finished with his sickeningly sweet gesture of good will.  My New Year's resolution, this year, is to be really nicer to people.*

*wink

Just kidding.  HAPPY NEW YEAR!  Take care.

An Interview With Myself (Part Two)

Yes, this is the long awaited, highly anticipated sequel masterpiece widely known as PART TWO of INTERVIEW WITH MYSELF.  Note, I did not just say I was playing with myself.  I know how you could be confused by that.  Especially if you were retarded. Besides, if I were doing that, I would not be able to type because it takes a big man like yours truly in order to fully pleasure himself with TWO BIG HANDS.  My own, of course.  Not the three hundred pound guy in the apartment below me.  His forearms looks like he has muscled up by doing a lot of "wanking the weenie" all day and all night.  No wonder I hear so much grunting and coughing below me.  I think the guy smokes a couple cigs after he's done sapping his milk duds, and plays Lynryd Skynrd's "Freebird" when he finishes.

After one particular session, I thought I heard him say "Ta-Da!"

Personally, I've never been able to tolerate Lynryd Slynrd that much, no matter how much I stroke the skin flute.

Ah, well.

Here's the second part of the interview with myself.  Enjoy!

Inquisitor Kelly: Why did you pick the name "Psycho Carnival" for the name of your blog?

Honest Kelly: It seemed like the most appropriate name.  Really, Psycho Carnival started out as an underground newspaper.  Underground newspapers were little newspapers or pamphlets that were regarded as subversive, anti-establishment type reading, in some circles.  Some of these were artsy fartsy and/or loaded with hand drawn cartoons. Some had radical views to a majority of people.  Some just wanted to voice an honest opinion on today's society.  That's were I come in.

Here are some copies of the old Psycho Carnival.  Sold 'em for 2 bucks a pop at a few bookstores. I didn't create them from scratch for profit- but to get my own ideas out there- across the country.  Which I did.  It was fun and I felt fulfilled.

Enlarge the image to see all the nooks, crannies and various goodness.  Appreciate the awesome handmade artwork-  completely computer-free design, as your own personal deity intended it to be.. or something.

Btw, I started my paper, Psycho Carnival, long before there was a band by the same name.  But I didn't have the zine, as they were often called, copyrighted and frankly, I didn't care that they came up with the same name- whether it came from me or their own minds.  Whatever. 

Underground newspapers got their start in the 60's and 70's but were still semi-popular in the 80's and 90's. 

I started writing, drawing and creating (stapling and pasting) my own underground newspaper (Psycho Carnival) in May 1996, using paper, pen, pencil and a word processor, several years before personal computers became widely popular.  Computers were just starting to become a household item when I started my paper- but since I wasn't trendy, rich and didn't want my underground newspaper all fancy shmancy like those other candy-ass papers were, like some were in the 90's, I did my own thing, like I always have done.

This blog is an extension of that underground newspaper.  I started the blog, late in the year of 2007. 

On the back of each issue of old Psycho Carnival newspaper or zines, as they were called, which I continued to author for three years, would be a poem I wrote.  It was one of many I have written in my lifetime.  Check it out below my joyful artwork!

I drew this and included it in a special edition of my underground newspaper.  It is a scene of my often appearing character, Jeepo the Clown, entertaining a guest.  Please enlarge to completely enjoy the gentle nuances of my delicate, merry artwork.  

Enlarge, in case your peepers have trouble reading the delightful poem.  The smoking monkey, by the way, is symbolic of humankind's follies and bad habits.

Inquisitor Kelly: Do you write other stories, besides what some would call "naughty" tales?

Honest Kelly: Yeah, I do write in other genres but for some odd reason, people get hung up on or notice the stories of sexual situations more.  I have written mega-loads (don't get too excited when I say that) of stories that are science fiction, drama, humor and so much more.  I guess it's more of that sexual repression type stuff that only goes on in the minds, for the most part, of the American public.  In Europe,  they don't have much of a problem with this.

I gotta add that I think we're a country full of hypocrites that have their concerns and priorities misplaced.  Violence is considered okay and often celebrated by our culture.  Going to war on a country whose people we don't know or care enough to understand is as accepted as easily as Mom's apple pie and baseball here.  But sex elicits raised eyebrows, angry rants, silence and shame, instead.  How backwards is that?  Violence is a flag we proudly fly.  I consider the act of violence a hell of a lot more disgusting than the act of making love to someone.  Blowing someone you don't know or understand to bits, either up close and personal or by a military drone- now that is SICK. 

To me and quite a few people, the sex act is an act that is funny, itself, really... so I often add humor along with it.  The thought of two or three or a mob of people grunting and groaning and putting themselves in all sorts of positions to get their rocks off paints a silly scenario in my mind.  Don't get me wrong!  Sex can be romantic- but often times, it includes these animal type scenarios that emulate monkey hi-jinx, at times.

For the record, the "Toadie" series of stories, I've written for this blog in the past, aren't something I came up with because I enjoy making fun of mentally challenged people.  If people were to actually closely read those stories, they would note that the character, Toadie, who seems mentally challenged, isn't really that way and that he may be putting on an act, considering what he will say later on in an episode that reveals his true self.  Meanwhile, the people around him are easily duped.  That can come in quite handy for him.

Inquisitor Kelly: What would it take to get people in this world on the right track and not continuing it's seemingly downward spiral?

Honest Kelly: Understanding between people who might seem different than us until we get to know them.  Putting back bank regulations.  Stop communicating so much with electronic hand held devices (cell phones, IPads, IFux or whatever throwaway gadget they're called).  It's so sad that we are a "throwaway" society on pretty much anything that's bought.  Whenever a new "upgraded device" comes out, people will cheerfully buy it instead of, oh, I don't know, wasting it on someone who is hungry or homeless or some other positive purpose.

 Forget about distractions like reality shows and silly tabloids.  Cease being a conformist.  Stand up and take responsibility for your actions and for cryin' out loud, stop denying what's happening in the world.  Fairy tales are for children.  In fact, I think we should start preparing kids, when they are young with how things are so they don't get blasted in the face with reality when they get older.  Speak out against what is obviously wrong instead of waiting for someone else to do it.  Stop polluting this world as if we have some other planet to land on, inhabit and slowly or quickly destroy.  Opening one's mind.  Those are just a few things off the top of my head.  Thanks for asking.  That was, like, totally unexpected of you. 

    

Inquisitor Kelly: Describe yourself!

Honest Kelly: I think I'm a man that has many contradictory traits to his personality.  I don't think I'm bi-polar, by any means.  But I have strong opinions and strong passions for certain things that seem to contradict myself.  I'm not boasting when I say I'm complex, but it's the truth.  I'm still surprised by people who have known me since childhood.  One of the worst things you can do to me, personally, is make assumptions.  People have done that to me all of my life for idiotic reasons and, unfortunately, I do have to address some assumptions (lies)  and set the truth straight out there.  If I don't, it has led to more trouble than I care to talk about. 

Personally, I don't give a rat's ass, though. 

In all honesty, I think I lost a part of myself when my mother passed away.  I was a shadow of my former self for a very long time.  Still am, but not as much.  I attended therapy and was prescribed anti-anxiety and anti-depression pills that work for me now.  It took awhile to find the right ones that were a "good fit" for me.  It takes awhile for some people to find the suitable pills because they'll sometime have drastic side effects with these pills.  Anyway, I could confide in Mom with everything.  She would listen, non judgmentally and answer a question- only if I asked.  She loved me, unconditionally.  She passed away 7 years ago.  I miss her love, twisted humor and our talks about ANYTHING under the moon and the stars.  My Aunt Kay, sister and wife can sometimes fill in the deep void in my life but they, honestly, can't come as close as that.

With this comes the responsibility I share with my sister of taking care of Dad, who has vascular dementia and other maladies too long to list.  Even though he's in an assisted living place, he still has to be taken to doctor appointments and he still wants to be taken out to eat.  And he's still angry, verbally abusive, threatening and you can never just visit him without him wanting you to take him somewhere.  I recently put 200 miles on my odometer as we got lost three different times during the day.  He refused to be taken anywhere else but this one particular Cracker Barrel restaurant.  This is just a small sampling of what we have to go through. He also constantly loses his extra body parts, including, but not all mentioned: hearing aids, dentures, glasses, canes and so on.

Meanwhile, I'm trying to take care of my wife who has severe high blood pressure, arthritis and much much more.   My own malady list goes on forever and ever so I won't bother to start.  Besides, I've written all about it before.  Excuse me for a moment.  I have to shoot insulin into my belly.  Be right back.  :)

Though I still suffer from depression and disease time to time, I'm still able to find the humor and positive aspects of life, despite what I'll sometimes put on this blog or my Facebook wall.  I think people don't look closely enough at a person, in order to try to get to know them, at least, to some degree.  What a shame!  For me.  For others.  Everyone.   

Inquisitor Kelly: What's the weirdest thing that's happened to you, lately?

Honest Kelly: Well, for this scorchingly hot summer, there was a woman in her early forties, in a tank top and pair of shorts, sitting on her ten speed bicycle.  She would be sitting on her bicycle for hours and hours at the end of our road.  I would go to the store, for awhile or go to the park or wherever.  When I'd come back.  Sure enough, she would still be there.  I wanted to roll down my window and ask her if she was okay because she looked like she was going to cross out onto the side of road to ride her bike, even though when there wasn't any traffic, but she would just sit there, instead and quietly wait.  Every so often, she did a little circle ride at the end of our road but she wouldn't travel further.

I thought something was wrong with her, maybe mentally, but wasn't sure.  Maybe, I thought, she was just afraid to take her bike out and ride it along the side of the road.  I never asked. 

I come to find out from my wife, from the neighbors and what my wife witnessed herself, that this woman was a prostitute.  My wife caught her bobbing her head up a down on some guy in a car at what used to be a dentist's office nearby.  The dude had his head leaned back, in apparent ecstasy.  I guess he was giving the ol' girl some free toothpaste.  :)  I bet she could have used some real toothpaste, a pint of mouthwash and medical attention for any diseases she might carry.

The neighbors told us that guys would pull up along the side of her bike, talk to her a bit and then get out to put her bike in their trunk.  And then, away they went off to somewhere, for awhile, before returning her to the end of the road.  Then she did the "wait on a bike" routine again.

On several occasions, she was found to be wearing a sign around her neck during those skin blistering days.  The sign read, in big bold lettering: Pick me up!  I'll make you happy!

There was a smiley face next to the word "happy."  A couple neighbors in our apartment complex said she was mentally challenged.  No kidding, I thought.  The sitting out in nearly 100 degree weather with an obvious sign around her neck didn't give that detail away at all.

These days, I don't see her... anywhere.  Maybe the police finally picked her up.  Maybe she's in a mental institution.  Who knows?  In any case, she's off the end of our road and we still have a bunch of neighborhood kids who still, gleefully, carelessly, play out in the middle of the entire length of our road with their balls and bikes and toys, not giving a shit if they get ran over or not.  Btw, all of these kids have medium sized front and back lawns and big driveways.  The parents, of course, still put signs out near the road, declaring that we should all slow down for the sake of their children.

Yeah, and people still like to tell me that people are okay.  lol.  Take care, everyone!  I'll be taking a blog break for awhile.  Hopefully, I will blog yet again next month, sometime.  Btw, would you care to try my free toothpaste?  Just thought I'd ask because... as I've often said... I CARE A LOT.

The Calm After The Storm

I don't know if you read or heard about the dozens of tornadoes that tore through the states of Alabama, Indiana, Kentucky and Ohio.  The string of massive tornado-producing thunderstorms ended up killing 37 people and caused so much devastation that people had lost hundreds of their homes and countless businesses and other structures.  What makes this a close subject to my heart is the fact that several of these tornadoes came dangerously close to me, my family and friends and killed a good many of the people in the general area, where I live.

You can click this link for a large part of what happened exactly, here, and other states.

It was so bad, the National Guard were called in to help out, clear debris and keep spectators away from the havoc-stricken towns.

Some of these real life horror stories I've known for some time now.  But there are a few that I didn't find out until today.  Like the grandmother who had closed herself off in her closet for fear of being wiped out by an oncoming tornado that day.  The tornado passed by her house, luckily but she was found in that closet four days later, dead from dehydration.  I'm not sure if she couldn't get out or that she stayed in the closet for fear of her life.  You would think, after a couple hours or a day, at the most, she would have left.  Maybe she was disabled, mentally or physically.

But it does make you think.  Death can come to you at any time and in ways you least suspect.  I don't fret about this aspect of life much or hardly at all but I think young people, who often believe themselves to be somewhat invulnerable, should give it some thought.

There's also the story of a toddler that miraculously stayed alive after it's entire family was killed by a tornado.  The house it lived in was obliterated, as well.  It was critically injured and taken to the hospital.  It lived for several days until it, too, died from injuries from one of the destructive tornadoes.

What is inspiring is that though the tornadoes killed over three dozen people and caused so much devastation, people everywhere volunteered to help.  A lot of businesses and churches, of course, collected donations from people empathizing with the plight and tragedy of those dishearteningly affected.  I feel sorry for people in life-shattering situations.  The Japan and Haiti tsunami /earthquake victims, for instance.

But people came to help out in those incidents, as well.  Sometimes it's easy to forget the good in people.  The media doesn't make it any easier.  But they do report the good that people do every so often.  They should promote those stories more often but we all know, according to them, that misery sells.

I went to one of my favorite parks the other day, after the onslaught of tornadoes the day before, with a friend.  We drove around and I got some nice shots and a few videos with my new digital camera.  I've included a video and various photos there of that day.  While there, I thought, So this is the calm after the storm.  You could feel the analogy and see the analogy, simultaneously.

a ray of light such as this is like a ray of hope or a scene that induces relief within

If this isn't a scene of peace and serenity, I don't know what is.  Check out my video of the park dam below.  You can really hear the wind blowing hard that day.  But when you see the sun trying to and succeeding in getting through those clouds and you listen to the water, it can soothe you.  Nature, I believe, and as I've pointed out before, is a true doctor and nurturer of your spirit, at times.

I took this shot because I thought it looked cool.

Some time ago, I took my digital camera and took several short videos of my daily walk through the park I usually go through every day.  The pictures above are scenes of a state park.  I would gladly walk through that particular park every day if I lived closer to it.  But my walks in my nearby park are usually quiet, enjoyable, filled with beautiful scenery and without any disturbances- unless some asshole brings a large, unleashed dog as you're trying to walk along back to the safety of your vehicle or park bathroom before it tears off a chunk of your thigh or worse.  Lol.

You'll hear a lot of wind in these videos and you'll also note that while I'm filming, I'm also walking (so you kind of feel like you're walking with me- that's the whole idea) and maybe you'll hear me breathing a little hard.  Ya gotta remember folks:  My footsies are deformed (inoperable heel spurs, enuinos foot deformity, and foot neuropathy).  That means I kind of walk "funny."  And yes, for those ready to give me unsolicited advice, I already do what I can to lessen the pain and other shit.  This has been with me for decades so I'm an old veteran of such shit.  I was bullied for that "funny walking" crap, among other things, when I was a kid.  As you may or may not know, that bullying crap leaves scars in your psyche- but it can also make you stronger, of course.  That's an issue I plan on writing about someday but not today.

Plus, I'll mention here that I have high blood pressure, along with diabetes, so it might explain the heavy breathing part you hear throughout the videos.  Please, no gratuitous sexual innuendo/joke needed here- unless it's funny enough.  :)  I figure somebody who can have as sick as sense of humor I can have will say something.  You're welcome to it.  :)

And yes, I'm doing what I can about those other previously mentioned maladies, too.  High BP and type 2 diabetes and so on AND SO FORTH.  No lectures.  I believe I'll take this meaningful moment to scratch my ass and go on.

But I get through it all.  I've learned to deal with it like I've had to deal with my Major Depressive disorder.

In any case, I get through my daily walks, stopping every so often from some pain and I get to look at peaceful, stress lessening scenes like the videos show below.  Enjoy the serenity.  Take a walk with me.





I come down to this part of the park, often.  I'll sit in the gazebo, sometimes and contemplate ideas, feelings and just enjoy the atmosphere.

You know, no matter what destructive or painful events happen in your life or the lives of others, there always seems to be that ray of light or that calm after the storm.  Take care, folks.  Just as importantly taking care of yourself and other folks in need, try to gain wisdom from other's experiences through reading and learning about them and gain strength from those experiences when you can.

Now look who's lecturing!  Hahaha.

Ooops.  I forgot to include the Venison Stew recipe I promised to give last time.  Oh well.  Next time.  Bambi is dandy in a stew.  Have I said that before?

Barreling Through Christmas With Determination and Valium

So far, I haven't allowed my depression from not having Mom around get to me this year.  It's been 6 years since she's been gone and she was truly the glue, along with my grandpa, holding the family together.  Now the family is fragmented.  One won't attend a Christmas gathering because so and so will be there and another will make it impossible to reach because they don't care about getting together for one reason or another and on and on it goes.

You would think everyone could put aside their differences and petty hates to get along but nah... no such luck.

Still, I'm barreling through the four and possibly five different family Christmas gatherings that I have attended and possibly will attend- that is determined if we can ever reach him.  One of these gatherings is coming up Christmas day.  Unfortunately, we're hosting it.  It is exhausting so far, with the house cleaning part, decorating windows, food preparation and so on.  Nope, not my idea.  I'm doing all of this strictly for my significant other.

She deserves it, wants it and it will make her happy as long as I don't lose my temper, become frustrated and stick the tree up somebody's ass, completely obliterating their colon.  That last part, knowing the in-laws, could happen.  I can count on them to make things even more difficult and convoluted than they need to be.  An old story.

This never worked for me.  Not even with that toothless meth addicted midget I found in the alley.  Her oozing sores were a dark Christmas red and green.

I'm usually an old grouch, Grinch and sometimes, a full on bastard around the holidays.  I don't want to be but that's just how it is.  My depression, frustration with crowds, family, traffic and all things stressful, pushes me to the edge. I feel a tremendous amount of guilt for being a little less than festive- well, a lot less festive the last 6 years and I'm desperately trying to make up for it.  Yes, this time around, I am really trying to make things as good as they can be this Christmas- for the wifey and for lovable ol' me.

What a beautifully festive display.  Someone finally gets it right.

The positive approach is better than being negative.  No matter what obstacle has been thrown my way, I've tried to make the best of it.  Hell... why not?  And you should see all the nice gifts I got my Sweety this year.  Jewelry, even!  Gosh, I'm a hell of a guy.  And I haven't broken the bones in my hand with all of the patting myself on the back one bit.

What a happy-go-lucky elf I am.  Not at all driven to insanity with all this holiday cheer and shit.

Yesterday, it was raining for the 10th day in a row.  I hurriedly got in my truck, got my rain poncho out and came back inside, on the bottom floor.  I was bound and determined to go for a walk in the park.  Fuck the monsoon we were having around this goddamn area.  I didn't feel like going up the stairs to my apartment and putting it on.  Instead, I put the rain poncho on downstairs in front of the neighbor's door at the bottom of the stairs.  Sure enough, while my head was buried and I was scrambling to get this rain poncho on right, the neighbor woman below, with her baby in her arms, pops out her door, suddenly and scares the shit out of me.

"Goddamn!," yelled I.  I added, "Holy shit!"

The neighbor smiled and then asked a stupid question, "Is it raining?"

I was soaked from my head down to my boots.

I do so much love it when people do this.  When people ask me obvious questions, I immediately get a boner.  In fact, anytime someone does something ridiculous in front of me, I sport wood.  Fuck, I must be hard all the time, eh?  Pull out in front of me, suddenly, with your crappy little Smart car and I'll pitch a tent in my pants like no other.  Of course, I will run over your Tonka Toy piece-o-shit with my big V-8 pickup truck while doing so, but hey, isn't that showing some Christmas spirit?

Anyway, after ranting away about how dismal the weather has been in the area, I told the neighbor to have a Merry Christmas.  Maybe a little forcibly, in tone, though I didn't meant to say it like that.  She wished me the same, politely, and said she had to go to work.  I wondered how she was going to go to work with a baby in her arms, but, oh well.

Maybe I'll be give her a little Christmas cheer and let her have the close parking space next to the main apartment door below a couple times.  I'm a real giver this year.

Anyway, Merry Christmas, everyone.  Unfortunately, I'm gonna have to disrupt my blog posting challenge for the next few days because of the overwhelming upcoming events I'll be working on.  Family feasts and more.  That means I won't be able to post anything for the next two days, at least.  Believe me.  I would much rather do the blogging thing than- wait a minute- I gotta be positive no matter what.

Wish me luck!

A Praying Mantis by my door, waiting to ponce on me and bite my head off.  I did mate with her, after all, and that's how they do it in Praying Mantis World.  Begone, vile fucked up looking monster!  I will forever regret fucking you in the ass.  Especially now that my head has been bitten off.

Hanging On a Star

Been bogged down in the mumps, the ol' depressionary state, currently. The red line under "depressionary" is telling me that it's not a word and that I'm a retard. Damn, I can't do anything right. Lately, yeah, I think that title might just fit me. Retard. Maybe "Retard Extraordinaire". Ha. That could be more fitting.

I feel like I'm saying the wrongs things to quite a few people in my inner circle of friends and family. The ol' guilt thing is kickin' my ass all the way to the the moon, as of late. Time to time, I make my attempt to get off that moon of guilt, trying to hook my arm around a star and maybe, if I'm lucky, I will be able to walk down some of those stars. Maybe I'll make it back to Planet Earth soon and shake my own hand and call a truce on the guilt thing going on inside my head.

It's a battle of wills. And getting back to being comfortable with myself...

...would be dandy.

Anyway, the more I listen to this, the more I like it. The song is called The Fun Machine Took a Shit and Died

Don't listen to it if you don't want to listen to it. I don't wanna twist your arm. It's just, I think, some brand spankin' new music from Queens of The Stone Age. Supposedly, they're coming out with a new album, early in 2012. God, I hope it's early. The planet is supposedly blowing up on the 21st of December. If I find out the new album is going to be late- like after the 21st of December, 2012, well, it won't be a pretty picture.

I mean-

I'll be really steamed. I'll buy a strange bobble-head collection and take it with me to the nearest fine dining type of joint, put one of the bigger ones down my pants with just the bobble hanging out of my fly, register the looks on the faces of fellow patrons and ultimately poke my bobble into someone's martini.

A plan, conceived.

But I doubt it will happen. After all, bobble-heads freak me out. No, I won't buy a bobble-head. The name, itself, sounds perverted.

Of course, this scenario just popped into my mind:

I go up to Mrs. Claus. She's kinda old but kinda hot and wearing something red and fluffy. I guess it's a coat. And I say something suave.

"Hey! Wanna see my bobble-head, Mrs. Claus? It's got a red, Christmassy glow. Don't have any idea why. Must be the STD I got in ol' Meh-hee-go."

I often have sex fantasies about Mrs. Claus. Who doesn't?

Mexico. Hmmm....

Beats ol' GuiltLand, where I'm currently residing, nowadays. Or maybe not. Should I feel guilty about boning a mythical, beloved holiday character, by the way? No, I'm not talking about a certain high profile, female Republican candidate that's running for president.

Beloved. Heh.

I think I just watched a documentary type show on TV, detailing a true story that had a guy interviewing a group of middle aged golfer guys, involved in said story and reenactment of their individual experiences on their trip to Mexico. They end up getting robbed, almost killed and then almost getting robbed or worse again by some corrupt cops. I think it was some kind of "I survived my vacation" type show that's airs once a week on The Travel Channel. They said incidents like the ones those golfer guys had didn't happen that often.

Eh. Okay. Maybe not. I don't want to assume. Heck no.

The story before that or afterwards showed actual video of some dumbass getting his flesh torn apart by a lion. This guy, who had never dealt with lions before, happily volunteered to go into the cage with the lion. Then he begins to reach out to pet the lion, the first time, basically wearing only a hoody/sweatjacket type thing and some thin jogger's pants. Then Bippy Dippyshit gets a warning swipe, the first time, with a paw. The dude cried out, "OOOOOW". A little blood was spilled. But the dude continued. And continued. Seeing this idiot play with this lion, as if it were a kitten and then getting his leg meat tore into, like human filet mignon, before he was rescued, cheered me right up.

I know I haven't been around the blogging scene much. I've been doing too much false starting here. I've been getting sidetracked. But I think I'm going to attempt pull a blog-rabbit out of my ass again. Like I did in the Spring of this year, I think I'm going to challenge myself to another blogging duel. Yes. I shall bloggeth every day until the end of December. And I shall also endeavor to visit everyone's blogs like a man with a quest to reach the highest star. Isn't that inspiring? Doesn't it just fill your panties with a load of pungent glee?

Now when the end of December comes up, I will self destruct- or perhap I'll save my explosion until next year about this time. I wanna time it just right. Don't wanna stray from the pack too much. I really want to fit in with the crowd (just like always) and with all of the others that fateful day who will pop open like a smokey pinata. Because, as you might and maybe could tell... I'm an obedient conformist.

Mmm. I'm thinking of bacon flavored candy falling out of a big gash. Insert joke here.

If anyone wants my collection of Pepsi/Star Wars Episode One cans, before Doomsday, I may be willing to swing ya a lucrative deal that will flip you utterly out.

See you tomorrow or bust.

Contact me at pantloadfullofglee@hatemail.com about the cans. I'm feeling better already.

Mother's Day For Me

Mother's Day means something different to all of us. The factors being your mother and you weren't close, are very close, were very close, she passed away, she's many miles away, she's living with you and so on. There's just too many and I wouldn't be able to name them all, adequately.

For me, it was/it is- a few of these things.

I've never done a Mother's Day post before because it always too painful for me to even start. Believe me, I wanted to, if for anything else, just to air out some feelings. But, as I'd try, I would eventually fail. The pain- being too great.

My Mom died nearly six years ago and I'm now able to come to grips with a lot of things having to do with that fact. We were very close, you see. She was my best friend. Mom was my confidante and the person who knew me the best. If I ever felt down, I turned to her. If I ever had good news, she was the first to know of it.

It took me years before I could do this. This is something I've wanted to do for a long time. I wanted to write about her, what she was like- on this blog.

Yeah, it takes me forever to get through emotional steps of whatever I'm going through. Whether it be grieve or forgiveness or making a friend or loving. I tend to take my good sweet time with all of these and more. I'm very passionate with the sensations that are rolling around in my soul. I think, but I'm not sure, this is why I have a hard time letting go of things. Once it's in there, in deeply embedded. Of course, being more apathetic than passionate may seem better to a few but I've never been that way and wouldn't know how to be like that if I wanted to. Personally, I think some people make better androids than humans.

In any case, I'm just going to stick with how I'm feeling. No soapbox diatribes on human nature today.

It's strange for me, in a way, to have Mom as a topic along with some of these odd stories, essays and pictures I've got on the blog. I hope Mom doesn't mind being a subject on my blog. Yeah, I do happen to believe in an afterlife. Any objectors or arguers of this idea will have to debate me another day. This isn't one of those type of posts where I want to hear debate of any kind so if you feel the need, save it for a another day. But getting back to how she might feel, wherever she is, I hope she doesn't give me a swat with the that ol' flyswatter she would use on me when I was bad kid when we all meet again. Ha ha. That would suck. :)

Just kidding. By the way, I've written about her before and the tough time I had with the guilt over her death and more but this post is something different.

Back to where I was....

Today I want to talk about and remember the good things about mom.

Mom and I would spend long late nights, into the early morning hours, playing Scrabble and talking about "meaning of life" type of stuff when we were both adults. Or just silly stuff. Mom was my personal advisor, a lot of times, when I'd need her most, too. I remember, as a kid, taking long walks with Mom down the gravel lane from where we lived in our four room house, when the family was dirt poor. We would walk down the lane, when I was kid, talking, holding hands and I would be looking up at her, at her eyes, as she answered any question a kid would have at that age. You know the kind. Those were pure, unforgettable times that I wouldn't trade anything for.

Later in life, Mom would watch me become distant as a teenager and later yet, succeed, fail, go on my first date, first prom, get a job, have problems, have good news and all that stuff that goes on in life and do it all-without directly judging me and instead, talk to me on a equal level that I deeply appreciated. I think she did that because she knew what all those things in life were like because she experienced them herself, along with the positive and negative aspects that is embedded within those episodes and so she empathized and showed her love by just speaking honestly and fairly.

I want to cry now as I think back on those particular great times we all had as a family. The trips to The Great Smoky Mountains, to Arizona, to out west and Florida and so on. I'm thinking about the fantastic fun times we had in the pool, throwing kickballs at each other and playing volleyball or the long, heart-to-heart talks we would have, while lounging around in the pool, about how are lives were going and what we were doing. All of our laugh-out-loud good times during our camping adventures. All of those funny moments around the campfire. These memories- I think of now and more.

Mom was incredibly demonstrative, too- Always giving hugs out to Dad and us kids, telling us how much she loved us and reassuring us and just being there when we needed her. She would celebrate our birthdays like they were the most important events in the world. Cakes, gifts, banners and streamers out the wazoo and then some. And Mom would produce big extravagant meals, full of comfort food and she would show off her considerable cooking talents with wonderfully unique meals, as well. She made sure no one left hungry at her house.

We were a very, very close knit family. We could talk about anything. Hardly any subject was off limits. Ask and ye shall receive. lol.

Shit. I was taught about the "birds and the bees" so early, openly and naturally that it would freak most uptight people out. They wouldn't be able to deal with it. But sex was something that was talked about with us like it was a natural act and it is, despite what some folks think. We would laugh at some aspects of sex, too.

I don't want to get into a debate here, but I think some folks are just little too backward and not progressive enough with this topic and more. It makes me laugh a little. Especially, in comparison with what knowledge I was given and how I was brought up. Complete honesty. Ya gotta love it. Either that or stick to being squeamish, sensitive or close-minded or whatever you want to call it.

Passing gas was funny, too. Like I said, hardly anything was off limits.

There I go again... getting off topic. I can't help myself. I have that wheel in my head that won't stop turning. Perhaps a little crazy man is turning the wheel. Who knows?

Mom and I shared the same warped sense of humor, as well. To be perfectly honest, though, my brand of humor was a little more warped.

One time, we pissed off my sister by laughing at the "beeping noises" a mentally handicapped man was making at a picnic table with his family while we were in the state park having our own family picnic not too far from his small brood.

"Beep!" The retarded man would make this noise. Mom and I would laugh. We weren't really laughing at him. Just the odd, abrupt, loud noise he would suddenly make every few minutes during the mostly quite picnic in the park.

"Beep!," he would shout out again.

Mom and I would try to hold back our laughter. We knew it wasn't right but we couldn't help it. The more he beeped and made other strange noises, the funnier it got. It's like the situation where you have a funny idea or picture in your mind at a funeral. The harder you try to control it, the more you want to let out your chuckles and guffaws. And then your body and/or mind finally betrays you and you burst from the seams, making a scene.

Oh well. My motto is: Who gives a rat's ass what people think.

The ironic thing also about this episode is that my mother worked as a nurse on the mental ward at a hospital. She was kind of used to this sort of thing but it would still make her laugh- again, not at the retarded person(s) just at the noises or outlandish actions. At the hospital, she acted, according to her, professionally- which I don't doubt because she was more than exceptional at turning her own personal laugh button off and on at really public places.

Suddenly, the retarded guy, probably about 30 years old or better, raised up his hand during the normally peaceful family picnic and yelled, "HI-YO!"

That's when we lost it, laughs busting from our guts and us, holding our mouths closed as best we could. My sister chastised us, telling us how inappropriate it was, of course. She's warped in her own right. Just not as much as me. Heh heh. And don't ask me why this memory of Mom popped in my mind. I could have thought of much better ones, I suppose. The little crazy man at the wheel in my brain does unpredictable things I feel like I can't be held accountable for.

Anyway, we didn't just laugh at the mentally handicapped shenanigans of some different folks. We shared a sense of humor about most anything you could or couldn't think of at this moment. But I think we shared more than that. I think we shared a way of looking at things in life- for better or worse- that really made of us that much closer.

I have to add that Mom was the glue, along with my Grandpa, that held the family together during inner family squabbles. Despite her depression and diabetes she suffered through, in life, she was incredibly strong and strong-willed. Mom was able to bring people together, no matter how much they didn't want to be around each other. And Mom was able to help mend our differences and hurt feelings with ease. Grandpa had this gift, too. Unfortunately, both of these much loved and much needed people are gone from our lives, passed on and now our family is fragmented in ways you would find hard to understand and I couldn't begin to even explain.

But listen to this!

When Mom passed away, I immediately learned this particular lesson, shortly after. It's a way of looking at things in your life, honestly. And because I learned this, I became instantly honest with myself, everyone else and completely accepted my flaws, my talents, my failures and my accomplishments and really... everything.

Here is the most significant insight I have and likely ever will have:

The most important part of your life isn't money, material things, status, proving who's best or who's not or who's right or who's wrong, the media, politics or religion. The most important part of your life are your loved ones. Everything, in comparison, is trivial.

Sometimes people won't learn or understand what I just said until a very close loved one has passed on. Sometimes they will understand it before it does come down to something that crucial or extreme.

That's it. That's my own personal insight. It's a doozy if you put any thought to it or if you have put any thought into it.

Being honest with yourself and accepting yourself is almost right up there with all of that. And to be painfully honest, as my Mom would sometimes say I could be, at times... I think both of those insights could be said to be intertwined if you think about it as I have.

Below are pictures of my immediate family that I put in a frame shortly after Mom passed away. I chose these pictures because of their meaning and because I like these images of Mom the best so far. I have dozens of family albums I haven't gone through since Mom died but I think I will do that, here, pretty soon.

On the upper left is Mom and Dad, a year before I was born. In the middle top, is Mom (that's Dad's arm around her). I had to cut Dad off in order to get the picture in the frame right. I have another copy with him completely there. :) On the upper right, is Mom and Dad at a state park. Both of my parents loved the great outdoors. A love and respect my sister and I shared with them, too and still do. The rest of the pics, at the bottom, are of me and the rest of the family. My Grandpa, who was a farmer, is in the second last picture- towards the right.

Well, my fellow bloggers and readers, this is my Mother's Day post. I consider this, in itself, a minor accomplishment, considering how long I put it off. Thanks for reading it and I welcome your thoughts and/or stories. Take care of each significant other in your own life and please don't forget what I said earlier, regarding my insight. Be well. Kelly. Out.

Strange and Rare Diseases

Throughout the years, I've often been fascinated with strange and rare diseases. Whenever I'd stumble upon articles on this type of subject matter in medical journals and books at home (my mother was a nurse in the mental health department of a hospital in a neighboring state) or in the library or doctor's office, it would cause me to either gasp in disbelief or shake my head, feeling pity upon those afflicted.

I've read a lot about these conditions that made unfortunate victims of these people and the following information about them is something you, yourself, may find interesting.

Exploding Head Syndrome-

Those who suffer from this disease experience a very loud noise as if it’s within his/her own head like an explosion. Typically this happens within several hours of falling asleep although not due to a dream. Patients may feel fear and anxiety associated with increased heart rate. Some physicians suggest that there’s a relationship with stress and extreme fatigue.

Stendhal Syndrome-

This disease causes people who have it to experience dizziness, rapid heartbeat, confusion and hallucinations when exposed to large amounts of beautiful art work.

Blaschko's lines-

Blaschko's lines are an extremely rare and unexplained phenomenon of human anatomy first presented in 1901 by German dermatologist Alfred Blaschko. Neither a specific disease nor a predictable symptom of a disease, Blaschko's lines are an invisible pattern built into human DNA. Many inherited and acquired diseases of the skin or mucosa manifest themselves according to these patterns, creating the visual appearance of stripes. What makes them more remarkable is that they correspond quite closely from patient to patient, usually forming a "V" shape over the spine and "S" shapes over the chest, stomach, and sides.

Cotard’s Syndrome-

Those who suffer from this disease feel that they are dead and non-existent. The sufferer may also feel that he/she lost his or her blood or internal organs; the patient even feels that the internal parts are putrefying. It can show up due to mental illness and is also associated with depression.

When you hear or read or see something about these diseases and others that are, in no doubt worse, you can't help but to wonder how you would react or struggle with any one of these diseases. Although I feel great empathy for people who endure life changing obstacles, such as a few of the ones described here, I can't help but to be impressed by those who are able to cope with whatever they are afflicted with each and every day that passes.

It's something worth thinking about. At least to me, it is.

Before, During and After Christmas

Mmm. Well... At least the ice age has taken a reprieve for the next couple of days. The temperature has finally reached above freezing temperatures. First time for that in almost a month. Right now we're sitting at a nice, balmy 43 degrees Fahrenheit (6 degrees Celsius). The ongoing monsoon we're experiencing, currently, here in the Midwestern U.S., is washing away the eight or so inches of ice and snow we got around the beginning of December. And this is the end of December. Ridiculous.

And yeah, I know people have it worse somewhere else... like in New York, for instance. It just seems like it's taken a goddamn eternity for the white shit to thaw out and for me to be able to walk five feet anywhere I go without risking slippage and neck breakage. With the advent of this current thaw out we're experiencing, I'll be treated to the sight of morons wearing shorts in these chilly, yet not sub-freezing temps. I've already seen a couple idiots wearing nothing but shorts, shoes and imbecilic grins at Wally World. This type of carefree simpleton behavior happens every year when we have even the slightest thaw out during the winter months.

For those reasons and more is why I'm not in my usual delightful mood and why I haven't been doing the blogging thing, lately. I've been too angry, depressed and seething with madness to do much on the computer except check out a few porn sites, humor sites and The Huffington Post website. It's a good thing my wife won't allow me to buy a gun, I suppose. God knows how many bodies would be lying around. Happy Holidays, everyone! And don't forget to go fuck yourselves silly! But not you, my cherished reader, not you. :)

Ah... As you can see I'm purging myself of the nasty negative thoughts in my head by sharing them with you. Isn't that nice of me? It's nice to share, they say.

Surprisingly, there was no carnage or destruction at my wife's Christmas family dinner this year. No mirrors or ceramic keepsakes were broken into a million pieces like last year. And the cat remained safe this year, unlike last year, where it was constantly being chased and whipped by a cat toy by my 3 little nieces. The reason for this is because (A) The cat ran and wisely hid under the bed when it heard my nieces menacing giggling when they entered the place and (B) Half of the time, while here, they were playing around with their little electronic gadgets or watching an insipid Nickelodeon TV show. The sound and sights of children shows drove me nuts time to time but at least everything, including the cat, remained intact.

The only bad moment happened while I was whispering to my sister about the eldest niece's boyfriend. My oldest niece is 17. Her boyfriend is 18 and weighs close to 500 pounds. I was explaining to my sister that the boyfriend has broken all the chairs, a heavy duty recliner and a coffee table with his hefty, morbidly obese ass by sitting in and on them, of course. He destroyed these fairly expensive pieces of furniture at my sister-in-law's and mother-in-law's places and nothing was said to the behemoth, as a result. I don't get that part, especially. I would have told the guy to pay for the damages, lose weight (at least for his own health) or something.

A week ago, I told my sister-in-law that the boyfriend wasn't allowed up to my place for the Christmas dinner because I was afraid he would actually go through my upstairs floor apartment and possibly land on and kill the tenants below. It sounds funny, but in his case, I think it could happen. Beside, I don't have anything he could sit on and take his weight without being crushed to molecules.

This same guy has had his picture in the local paper for entering and winning these all-you-can-gorge-on contests. One contest was for how many Twinkies you can stuff in your big fat face and the other was for pigging out on corn dogs or something like that. In other words, he not only engages in gluttony, he flaunts it, is proud of it and celebrates it by entering in these disgusting competitions.

When my mother-in-law overheard me talking to my sister, Christmas Day, about this dude, she got bent out of shape about it and started defending him. She told me how he had promised to marry my niece after he went through culinary art school and how nice he was and how he made her cry by saying all this wonderful stuff about her granddaughter and so on. With the rate he's going, I don't think he's going to live long enough to accomplish any of his goals.

I have asked my mother-in-law and my sister-in-law if anyone has ever warned him that being morbidly obese like that was a danger to his health. Both said, "No." They said that as far as they knew, not even the boy's parents have tried to talk to him about it or curb his weight with correctly portioned meals.

I said, "That makes me sick to hear that and I don't really have anything to do with him."

In fact, the boy's parents actually encourage their kid to go to my sister-in-law's place to eat all of her food when it's dinner time. And eat, he does. Everything. In. Sight. And nothing is ever said to him about that, either. Disgusting and amazing. I would have already knocked his ass out with a baseball bat, or at the very least, tell him to go graze in the back yard for nourishment. My tolerance for repetitious ignorant behavior is little to none. It's a good thing I don't have children.

Strangely enough, I've been told this enormous 18 year old kid's health is okay. For now, I'm guessing . Of course, it will be just a matter of time before he will eventually have problems with any or all of the following: Diabetes. Coronary Heart Disease. High Blood Pressure. Stroke.

To name just a few.

While I'm on the subject of diabetes and other health problems associated with that disease, another curious type of behavior has come to my attention. I know of two family members and a friend who have severe diabetes and a few of the other health conditions I mentioned and none of them seem to give a shit about it. They eat and drink whatever they want, no matter how much sugar and fat it contains. INSANITY.

Look everyone, FREE DIABETES! Come and get it!

If people want to kill themselves by ingesting whatever they want while having diabetes, they're going about it in the slowest, most torturous way possible- aside from disemboweling yourself with a small fork.

The truth is: Diabetes is synonymous with a gradual, often painful degradation of the body's parts and internal organs and ultimately- death will fuck you in the ass, as a result- with no lubricant. When you have diabetes, like I happen to have, just giving a "fuck it" attitude towards it and consuming what you want, guarantees all manner of horrible things to come your way. Like being hooked up to a kidney dialysis machine, for instance (no more caffeine for you, fucker). Or how about the lack of good blood circulation which will cause you to lose your feet and your sight. Does that sound like a good time? And healing from a wound or overcoming sickness, no matter how minor? Forget about it, baby!

Here's a funny story... As I was plunging an insulin needle into my belly a couple days ago, a friend knocked on the door. Since I knew who it was, I told him to come in. He came inside the apartment and was jabbering away about letting himself in until he noticed me slowly inserting a needle into my belly.

As I was cringing and curling my toes in discomfort, he asks, "Does that hurt?"

I didn't reply at first because (A) That's a stupid question and (B) I'm kind of busy at the moment and (C) If I don't focus on where I'm puncturing, I could bend the needle in my belly and tear open my flesh. I've done that last one a couple times, due to my wife causing me stress with inane jabber or the time when I was on the cruise ship and it lurched to the right while the needle slit my belly open. Good times!

Anyhow, my wife comes home from work and gives my friend a Christmas gift that I'm thinking he will likely take a pass on because he suffers from diabetes and has to take a couple pills for, as a result (no insulin yet, but he's working on it, I think). The gift he opens is a nearly two pound bag of gourmet chocolate caramel covered popcorn that has about a trillion (or so) grams of sugar in every piece. My wife thought he would like it because he likes sweets. I was just going to him a gift certificate at Lowe's or something but she thought of this, instead. Eh, okay.

Anyway, he opens the bag and instantly starts to gobble down the the contents of the bag with reckless abandon, diabetes be damned. I laughed, as i always do when I see someone doing something bizarre and I asked, "What about your diabetes?"

He said, almost incoherently, while munching and crunching, "My last blood sugar test result at the doctor's office turned out okay."

For now, I thought. He's very lucky in the way that he eats and doesn't exercise that his blood sugar counts haven't skyrocketed. I, on the other hand, watch what I eat and exercise and I'm forced to take insulin and pills for my diabetes. Go figure. Am I somewhat jealous? You bet. I'm not perfect by any means.

The last couple of weeks, I've been severely depressed because of mom not being here for the fifth Christmas in a row. She died in August of 2005 and I was closer to her than any other member of the family. The inner family fracturing, squabbling and accusing my father of killing my mother by my grandmother just adds heaping helpings of stress to my usual decaying mental health at this time of year. To counteract this, I would go out and take pictures of Christmas scenery in the town surrounding me. Only when I'm not around the usual negative people (family and friends) and outside, do I receive anything remotely describing peace. Sad, isn't it?

You can see these holiday pictures at my other website, Pics For Kicks. Going out and taking these pics is very therapeutic. And taking the holiday shots reminds me of the times, every Christmas, when my sister, dad, mom and I would go out, drive around at night and look at all the decorated holiday scenery in all of the neighboring towns.

To top off the near ending of the holidays, my dad slipped, fell and cracked his head wide open on the corner of a wall the day after Christmas. He's okay now but it scared the shit out of my sister and I. He fell at the assisted living place he's living in, due to taking his diabetes medicine but not eating any food with his medication. That will drop the ol' blood sugar to the basement. When I came to the emergency room, he was lying in the hospital bed, talking calmly to me, like nothing happened.

He looked fine but then...

As I sat down in a chair, he asked how he looked to me. All I could see at the moment was a tiny paper cut on his forehead. I said, " You look alright to me. Just a small cut above your nose."

I wondered silently why he had been rushed to the hospital.

But then...

I saw blood spreading on the pillow behind his head. I got up, walked over behind his bed and saw the four inch gaping gash in his scalp on the back of his head and almost fainted. Just then a nurse walked in and put a fresh bandage on his head. Five or so minutes pass and a doctor walks into the room, takes a stapler and staples the gash together with 8 staples.

Ca-Chunk... Ca- Chunk... and so on. He ended up staying overnight because his blood sugar was so low it wasn't even registering on the meter.

I remember the sound of staples going into flesh quite well since I had the same thing done to me when I was 21. Right after my double hernia surgery. I sat in a slightly leaned back chair as Dr. Frable Ca-Chunked Ca-Chunked twenty one staples between my belly and just above my crotch. He gave no warning he was about to do this. All he said beforehand was that he was going to check how the two wide incisions appeared. And then the surprise! Whoopee!

Good times.

Trying to fuck without literally busting a gut was quite the trick back then but I somehow did it. Back then I didn't have diabetes but I did have raging, horny hormones that made me do stupid things like trying to fuck not long after surgery.

Anyway, dad is back at the assisted living place. They're keeping an eye on him and making sure he doesn't go out and drive while healing. He's under strict doctor's orders. I'm sure today or any of the upcoming days he will be screaming and throwing the usual verbal insults at my sister and I, thinking we had something to do with this. Business, as usual.

Yep. Happy fuckin' holidays, everyone. I'm sure the new year will be just as delightful (sarcasm intended) as 2010, minus the honestly pleasurable reprieve of the week long Caribbean cruise we went on this past summer and the times I wasn't around family. During those times, I had nothing but peace.

Below, you'll find a humorous, truthful Christmas message from Bill Maher. After watching it, remember that Oprah Winfrey will or already has debuted her private network, OWN. Which, of course, stands for the Oprah Winfrey Network.

A Christmas Message from Bill Maher - watch more funny videos