A Child in the Rain
It's funny how some people can gloss over just about anything. They will, of course, as long as the glossing suits their own purpose. It makes me think of a night on a dam, at a lake, and I saw this little girl standing outside of an old black pickup; she was screaming. Her mother grabbed a pillow all white in its case, and the rain was pouring down; the lightening was flashing all around. I stopped to take a look and I knew it was no fault of the little girl. You could see fishing rods in the back, and a whisky bottle rolled out onto the ground...Old Charter I think. The pickup steamed away across the rain soaked road and the lightening flashed over the scene; the mother and the little girl stood alone on the road, and finally, a white car stopped and picked them up.
It's funny how some people can gloss over just about anything. They will, of course, as long as the glossing suits their own purpose. It makes me think of a teenage girl riding on the back of an older man's Harley. He lived in a little walk up garage apartment and he always let her sleep on his bean bag chair. In the morning he would hand her the keys to his old Ford, and even though she was only 14 and had no driver's license, she took his car to the school. The principal knew she wasn't suppose to be driving no old biker's car to school. The principal knew the young girl had no driver's license. She let her drive anyway, and even gave her a parking spot. At night the girl returned to the old biker's apartment; she had nowhere else to go. She sat on the bean bag chair and read her books, wrote her papers, and watched the old biker smoke his pot and chat with his friends.
"That's a smart one there, he said. She is gonna go a lotta places."
Years later the young girl grew up and went a lotta places.
Just Give in to Big Insurance: Who Needs Healthcare???
The healthcare debate is starting to make me very sick. I cannot stand to watch Fox News anymore, and I used to love them. They are simply wallowing and begging for big insurance; seeing Fox on its knees for such a low cause is enough to make my skin crawl. Those slick, nasty, politicians are just as disgusting; and in my opinion, they are overinsured and overprotected, and so are their families. But this whole discussion could be settled by Christmas if we would all just agree on a few key points:
- If I get sick or injured, I should just go to an emergency room and then later forfeit all of my property; Me and mine can go live in the streets. I am underinsured; I deserve nothing better.
- If my child gets sick or injured, I should just throw him to the mercy of my fellow American.
- I should never expect anything from the health insurance I currently own. I am out of network.
- People like me, who have yet to enjoy financial success, do not deserve good health care--neither do our children--we are just losers anyway.
- If I get cancer, or if my poor little boy does, then we don't have to worry; our friends will throw a garage sale for us.
- Preventive care is unnecessary. I don't need a pap smear and that strange spot on my skin can wait. I was too stupid to marry rich, or sleep my way to the top. I deserve to die.
- All of those homeless and mentally ill people that Ronald Reagan dumped into the streets are too crazy to know they are suffering. Besides, if they wanted to they could work.
- And, finally, it's Christmas. People like me who are underinsured and underemployed should just let the so called "elite" Americans have their way as usual. They pay ALL of the taxes...Right?
Starting to Feel Like Christmas
Sometimes when I think about what a sorry character I am, I have to laugh. But no matter what, my heart is usually in the right place, and I feel especially "in the groove" right around Christmas. This time of the year is tailor made for lowlife people like me. We get a chance to enjoy a lot of freebies and we can gather around the buffet of goodwill. No, silly, I am NOT talking about the store; I am referring to all those who have stolen and road raged their way through regular society all year, and now they feel a bit whimsical and nostalgic towards those they have ripped off. Whenever I drive by a truck inspection station I feel that way...just a little. Awe yes, I am surrounded by stupid people unable to look after themselves, leery of decision making, and slightly suspicious of my colorful past. Maybe tonight I will call one of them and see if I can take them for the proverbial ride! I can kick the passenger door open, lean over and grin. Yes, like getting in beside a serial killer, you never know where the ride might take you. They don't call me Smiley for nothing...Just JOKING!!! Or am I?
MY DAD WOULD BE EXTREMELY PROUD OF ME---that's all that really matters!
MY DAD WOULD BE EXTREMELY PROUD OF ME---that's all that really matters!
Looking Under the Sink
My child was playing in the tub so I cleaned out from under the bathroom sink. While I poked through the band-aid boxes, wadded up old plastic wrappers, and inspected the pipes, I thought about childhood innocence, an elderly lady who just moved into an assisted living center, and two men carrying laptops late on a warm October evening. Scrubbing around the bottom shelf, I imagined my friend's fall, her bleeding leg, and how she finally sacrificed her independence. She gave it up voluntarily, no one forced her to leave her tiny two bedroom apartment. While I scrubbed, I tried to imagine having my independence taken from me by force, poverty, illness, or some petty cruelty. Then my mind moved onto the image of the two men carrying the laptops on the October evening. They ran like thieves, guilty people, each carrying a laptop under his arm. They looked up at me as I drove in, and I could see they were angry; I witnessed their arrival. They looked alike, similar in age and build. Days later a man was arrested a few blocks away for child pornography...he was a teacher. My boy had walked home several times and turned the corner near this man's home. How close we are to complete depravity, the lowest of the low, a pervert of unequal measure. I looked over at my child in the tub, and I thought about how silent my town has been on this subject. It is almost as if it never happened.
The twist a life must take, these journeys into maturity; a chance meeting in a driveway, Hanky's blood in the shower; my child in the tub, and tomorrow I go to his school for a cup of coffee, another chance to keep the quiet.
What is the one gadget that you can't live without?
When I put my Blackberry in a different skin, or case, I feel like I am dressing a child. For three years I have had my 8830. It has outlasted numerous new acquaintances, and it has paid for itself over and over. When I first learned how to send and receive shipping documents, billing receipts, email, and search for loads on the thing, I was so excited it rarely left my sight. I spent more time gazing at the new love of my life than I did looking down the road. Just this week I have made grocery money on my Blackberry, and I have received news, coupons from Kathy, emails, and dirty jokes from my friend Rocky up at Lubbock.
The greatest accessory I ever bought for my Blackberry was the Freedom 2 Keyboard. It is bluetooth, folds out full size, and I carry it in a cute little leather case. Yes, I can sit in the doctor's office and send essays to my weblog. I can email, conduct business, or just play on the Instant Messenger; it's all good! My Blackberrry would probably last another three years, but I have started lusting after the Tour. It has a camera, and that means I can send photos to my weblog from wherever I am. My cute little boy wants a Blackberry, and I am thinking he can have one later. With a new contract from Sprint, I can get him a Curve for free. That means I can track his every move...hmm...nice technology.
Well that's it for tonight. I hope all of you are safe and warm wherever you are.
Socrates and The Apology
If you have ever read Plato's version of what happened to Socrates, then you know it was lies and innuendo, people with misconceptions, and a long list of jealous enemies who brought our early philosopher to his death.
"I almost forgot my own identity, so convincingly did they talk; yet there is hardly a word of truth in what they said." "...they told you to take care not to be deceived by me, because I was a cunning speaker."
In my life, lies and innuendo have marched behind me like soldiers on a rampage, mudding up whatever is clear, and planting doubt in the minds of people who should have had a long and lasting relationship with me.
"Socrates is a criminal busybody, seeking to understand what abides in heaven and beneath the earth, making the weaker argument the stronger and teaching others to do likewise."
People never appreciate you for your differences.
If you ever bother to read Nietzsche, then you will know he was very controversial, (he thought God was dead) however, he was a genius when it comes to understanding how one group tends to judge another. He discusses the decay of aristocratic values, the kind we see on Wall Street: big bonuses on the backs of the taxpayer, unbridled greed, gambling, outlandish theft; we now have a whole upper class not worth spitting on. And I guess those of us who have started at the bottom, and more or less floundered around, maybe mired down by the lies of jealous enemies, are simply plebian: common, human trash.
My brother died nearly ten years ago; this morning I dreamed about him. He was beside my bed kneeling on the floor praying. He loved me. I miss him. I wonder what he would think of our new world?
One Cold Day (a fiction)...in a hurry, unedited!
I looked out and saw her fanny leaning over the bricks; she was busy tugging and pulling on a big blue tarp. It gave me the creeps. It bothers me: those scary people are running around with tarps. Even out on the road, I never met anyone as weird as her. Then I saw Igor (my pet name for the biggest, and laziest, ugliest guy you ever saw) out helping her. He was pulling on a tarp too. I could hear them giggling, in their crazy way, about the composter, "Did your neighbor see us?" "Did you remember to turn the barrel?"
O no, what have they done? I knew she worked in one of those places for children with mental disabilities, and I saw him throw big black bags of stuff into the dumpster recently. The attorney general's office was doing an investigation, I wondered if they knew? Are they trying to hide something?
I grabbed my dog, and fastened him to his leash. Together we walked to the garden area, but he stopped and pulled back hard. I tried to drag him down the sidewalk, but he hunched and squatted, dug his nails in, and whined. "Come on Mac, let's go see what is!" He just sat, so I went and scooped him up.
We walked past the tarp, the gloomy plants, her window; I was feeling my flesh crawl. Something smelled like rotting flesh. I wanted to take a peek under the tarp, but I could see her framed in the window, her hair sticking out on the sides, and her mouth tightly clenched. She was fighting with angry words. Around the corner, we hurried into the night. We made it to the quiet and dark street; I could feel his big black pickup creeping up behind me. I felt her arms grab around my waist, and I saw little Mac shoot out in front of me. He was making a break for it, I was hoping he could get away. I threw down his leash, and I started to fight back.
Then I could see my sneaky step son, Jerry, grinning at me in the dark. It was just him coming home from protecting diplomats in the Middle East. He was here for Christmas...I will let him handle my neighbors. LOL