Christmas & the Fat Man In Red ... Your Job Or His?

Let's see, in Christmas posts in my past, I've pissed off just about everyone I could.  

Why should this year 

be any different?

I vow to not attack religion this year as I did a couple of years ago when I provided a new look at immaculate conception by a horny superior being.  That one got a lot of people thinking that I didn't believe in God.

Of course, I believe in God.  Oh, like most individuals that have had more than their share of bad luck and struggle in their lives (unlike the "Silver Spoon" crowd that has had life provided them on a silver platter) I've questioned the existence of the upper Heaven level management deity.  However, even after using logic, my upbringing tends to renew my faith.

Look at it this way ... at my age, gambling with the afterlife isn't the most intelligent thing a borderline entrant could do.  If there's nothing there, it doesn't hurt anything.  But, if there is, why not buy a ticket before they're sold out?

However, I'm going to attack the myth of Santa Claus today.

Damn, I just lost about half of my readers.

No, I'm not going to debate his role in the modern Christmas celebration, only the disadvantage parents put their children in by passing on this legend to generation after generation.

As if that many parents teach their kids anything these days.

His role, of course, is to get the little monsters to be good, go to bed early, and learn to accept that his sleigh will only hold so many presents (so they can't get everything they want).  Of course, many would argue that it also teaches their children the philosophy of supersonic speed and the ability to magically carry enough gifts to make all the children of the world happy, but these folks are so obviously full of it that even their kids realize it!

Hey, Sis, think we can get mom and dad to play video games

 so they'd learn something?

In essence, parents are teaching their children how to be future politicians.  Act good when in view of the press, keep your private life and those you screw on the side as secret as possible, and learn that you can only buy (or bribe) so many corporate votes, regardless of how much money you have to spread around.

"Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus.  He lives in everyone's back pocket.  His spirit of giving is based on the value of return.  You don't always get what you give, but, it's better to give to others so you can hold it against them later!"

Now, let's discuss Santa's entry into the home.  Less than 10% of homes in America have chimneys.  This leaves over 90% of the children nervously wondering, "How in the hell is Santa going to get in the house?"

While many youngsters grow out of this mental stress, some never do.  They grow up to work at the post office and carry AK-47 assault rifles in their cars for those days that the voices inside their heads never stop talking.

No, children that find themselves living in a normal house without chimneys expect their parents to stay up late and let him in to disperse the presents under the tree.  Children, that live in apartments, find themselves writing their apartment number in large bold letters in their annual correspondence to the man in red in hopes that their PlayStation won't end up with the brats downstairs that broke the last one.  And, children that live in mobile homes find themselves wondering how many holes the reindeer hooves will put in the tin roof and pray their father realizes that deer hunting season is over!

"Where's my assault rifle, honey?  Damn, must be ten or more deer on the roof 

just waiting to be next Sunday's main meal!"

Unfortunately, homeless children are too busy holding on to their shoes while they sleep in fear that someone will steal them away.  They learn early to tell the difference between Rudolph's red nose and the red nose of the drunk snoring in the shelter cot next to them.

Another problem that parents face on Christmas Eve is what type of snack do they want Santa to eat.  You know, the one that Santa is supposed to munch on when he's done dropping off the goods.  

You figure at a cookie a household, Santa has spent a lot of time in Colorado with some really good smoke and has one hell of a case of munchies!
Beware the chocolate chip cookie diarrhea syndrome!

Traditionally, milk and cookies are the expected norm.  However, I always believed that a good Porterhouse steak and loaded baked potato curbed the hunger much better, especially since I was going to be up all night trying to put together toys with directions that couldn't be deciphered by the entire teaching staff of the Massachusetts Institute of Technology. 

We did have to draw the line when it came to saving him a glass of wine, though.  One year, one of my girls surprised us with a late night trip to the bathroom.  She looked at her mother drinking the red and said, "You'd better save some for Santa or I'm gonna be really mad!"

That's when I looked at my wife and added a sarcastic retort, "Don't look at me. Obviously, she comes by it naturally.  Eggnog, anyone?"  

My wife is still mad about that one, at least when she's sober.

Instead of an obese individual breaking into home all over the world by sliding down a chimney too small for most squirrels, instead of creating a nervous tension over the youth worrying about every little lie they stated about how nice their mother looked in spandex or tights, and instead of them wondering if a strange man wandering from house to house was looking for the one bad child to take back to the North Pole and abuse for years to come, why don't we simply teach our children about the true spirit of Christmas?  (I know, it was one hell of a long run-on sentence, wasn't it?)

Let's teach them that every person has some good in their heart even though they don't show it the other 364 days of the year.  Let's teach them to appreciate the smiles they can bring and the warmth they'll feel in their hearts by giving.  If others give back, fantastic!  If they don't, maybe they will in the future when they, too, learn what a great feeling giving can provide them.

Why not help them understand that at least one day a year it's better to share and bring happiness than to want and exhibit selfishness?  Perhaps, by making this a part of their upbringing, they'll understand that happiness doesn't come from material objects, greed, and status, but from what you can do for others to make their lives better.

Maybe they'll grow up to own their own business and share these feeling among their employees.  Maybe they'll cast aside the profit line and treat the employees as important members of the business and reward them properly so they take a greater interest and work together to improve it as a true team would do.  Maybe they'll even feel wanted and give more than those that don't have the benefits others do.

See, this feeling of happiness has nothing to do with popularity contests, greed, or material goods.  It's a general lesson that all have to learn so that mankind can come together and appreciate what each individual has to offer.  

It's been proven that kids join gangs, join gaming clubs, wear like outfits, and act differently because they all want to be wanted.  Many don't experience that at home for one reason or another.  In their minds, they're either looked at as moochers, slave labor, or inconvenient expenses only validated by the annual tax write off the parents receive.  

Kids are people and people are not numbers or dollar signs.  We all need to learn to treat all people as people, regardless of their age, race, religious background, or geek rating.  Assuming the role of a teacher isn't just a temporary thing, it's a lifestyle and obligation.  

Most professionals agree that children love to learn.  Unfortunately, for whatever the excuse, learning is too often forgotten at home.  The kids have to learn from their peers that reside in in similar environments.  It's no wonder the youth of today generally fit the mold of ... "rude, selfish, violent, and uninterested in anything adults have to say."

If you never got listened to, why not return the favor?

Christmas is an excellent time to provide them a lesson for life.  Demonstrate your love and teach them how to share theirs.  Don't depend on the fat man in red to do your work for you.  How about doing it yourself for a change?

Unless you happen to be a fat man in red Spandex, that is.  

I don't know that I'd admit it if I was.

You might find a red nose sniffing at your butt.

MERRY CHRISTMAS!!!

The Battle With The Adult Protection Service Is Over, But Another Battle Is Sadly Lost

I'm Free!!!  The APS Case Is Closed!!!

Like a couple of posts ago, this will be out of the norm of this blog.  The sarcasm will be mostly absent, the humor will be minimal at best, and the topic is one that can actually have a bearing on your life one day.  

This is about a victory my father and I had over the Indiana Adult Protection Service!

My last posting about the APS drew quite a few views.  One might even say that I cast aside my sarcastic trademark and provided a human interest story.

Okay, so I won't make it a habit.

Still, I have to boast a little.  Regardless of the efforts made to incarcerate (a more fitting word than the phrase "confine to a nursing home") my father, as they did my stepmother, they have now closed the case!

In addition, the sister of my stepmother is now attempting to regain guardianship of her and move her out of the nursing home.

We can only hope it's not too late.

But, let's first look at my father's case.

Attempts were made, first by the nursing home, to generate a feeling of dementia around his actions of the time.  They took a statement made by a man that had been awakened in the middle of the night and twisted it to look as though he didn't know where he was at.  They then took his action in walking five miles to be with his wife (when his vehicle was damaged in an accident in which was another person's fault) as the act of a person without their right senses.  And, finally, they looked at him not bringing lunch with him as an act of a man that couldn't remember things, when in essence, he didn't want the food to spoil in the heat and had already eaten a healthy breakfast.

In the meantime, he continued to change her bed at the nursing home, feed her when staff failed to do so, take her to the bathroom when staff wasn't available, and calm her down by talking to her, rather than using the drugs the nursing home fed her constantly.

Now, you know why her sister is attempting to get guardianship.  It's only my guess, and

I Sometimes Look At My Wife And
Wonder, "What Would I Do If I Were
In My Father's Shoes?"

only a layman's assumption, that knowing all that my father was doing, the nursing home looked upon him as a threat.  What better witness against them than a man performing the tasks they were paid to complete?  And, wouldn't it be to their benefit to discredit the witness in advance rather than attempt to do it after he had testified against them?

Legal services for my father were retained immediately this time.  I wasn't playing around in hopes that they'd see for themselves that he was very competent.  He had tried that with his wife and the results weren't as he'd expected.  I knew better than to let the state office have their way early.

I scheduled appointments with the Veteran's Administration for mental and physical competency tests, the Department of Motor Vehicles for a driving test, and contacted the APS so they'd understand that proceeding ahead of those appointments might result in a legal suit against them.  As expected, they intelligently backed off.

Well, the physical examination showed that my 83-year-old father is in better shape than I am!  That was no surprise as his blood pressure was 105 over 54, his heart rate was a little less than 70 bpm, and he is on no medication for any ailment at this time.  He is constantly working in the yard in all types of weather, chops wood daily for the Winter and his Mother Earth News style home furnace, and eats no fast food whatsoever!

Then, the mental examination was given.  He got every question right but the date, and was only off by one day.  Hell, I've often miscalculated the date, thinking it was the 3rd and it was the 4th, etc.  

The doctor, after bragging about his state of physical and mental health, told me to cancel the driving test as he had given her no reason to proceed.  She smiled, told him not to forget to set an appointment for his check-up in six months, and bid him a cheery good-bye.

Still, even with that news, I knew that we needed to be careful.  So, I continued limiting his time at the nursing home to two hours a day.  Although he's greeted with smiling faces there by the staff, I'm not forgetting how they attempted to have him confined.  He's still a danger to them, and even more so now that he's been through all the examinations proving his competency.

Oh, there have been instances I look at him and think to myself, "He's not going to be in great health forever.  I need to keep a close eye on him."  

I think, throughout all the trauma this last year has brought us, and considering that he is suffering from being alone for the most part, my father and I have finally grown close.  At age 83, he respects me and my opinions now, something he never really demonstrated before.  It's as though we've changed roles, with me becoming the adult telling him how to stay safe and of what to beware.  The child has become the parent.

Although a man that cannot live without his independence, he calls me now when he needs help.  He's not above admitting that society has greatly changed since "his day" and it's not easy to keep up with.  Computers, electronic drafts, dealing with official agencies and legal representation may not be his cup of tea, but he knows I have no trouble with any of it.  So, he now looks at me as being there to take care of him when he needs it.  

You might say it's the first time since my days as a late 60's freak 

that he's shown me respect.

And, it's only taken me over 40 years to earn it.

Love ya, dad!

Just do as I say!

*     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     

***I was debating on when to publish the above.  I wrote it before the national election, but with all the hatred and spite in the air, I just couldn't publish it then.  I had thought during the Ten Things Of Thankful blog hop, or perhaps some other time.  

However, to every victory a small amount of tragedy occurs.  

Less than two hours ago I received word that my stepmother was being given a maximum of two days to live.  She is unresponsive, unable to swallow, and has had a Catholic priest by her side for quite some time.  The end is near.

I lost my real mother when I was thirteen.  For the last thirty-six years, this woman has been my mother and the wife of my father.  I know it will be a great loss for me when she passes, but his loss will be even greater.

We all get old.  It's a natural occurrence.  Acceptance of growing old finally sets in when common sense overcomes ego.  Acceptance of death arrives at about the same time.

The same compassion that allows us to love forces our hearts to ache when we lose a loved one.  I have told many to stop thinking of themselves and rejoice in the departed's release from misery.  Instead of thinking about how much we'll miss them, think about how they are now free and in a much better place.

It is time for me to practice what I preach.  It won't be easy, but one must do what one must do.  Otherwise, self-pity and grief overcome our sense of logic and create a deeper hole for us to climb out of when the sun rises and the clouds clear.

I worry about my father and how he'll take this.  Will he lose his sense of purpose?  Will he lose his desire to live on and continue to enjoy the ...

... Sorry, I just answered the phone.  The 48 hours just shrunk to less than two. 

My stepmother has passed.

Her suffering is over.

May God Bless You, Shirley.

Woe Is Me, The Sky Is Falling, The Sky Is Falling

Initially, I wanted to laugh.  Then, I decided that crying might be a better option.  Then, the tears turned to feelings of empathy.  Finally, I just sat back, let out some gas, and shook my head.

Facebook and other social media was filled with so many prophets of doom that one would swear Nostradamus had been running sexually rampant amidst the masses within recent years.


Trump had become "President Elect Trump" in the wee hours of the morning.  Clinton had conceded and the title was now Trump's.  He had given an acceptance speech, but as of six hours later, she had not given her concession speech.

Guess those items taken from the White House when the Clintons left years ago will remain missing.

Probably just as well.  Trump will probably redecorate anyway.  I understand there's quite a bit of shiny brass and multiple velvet curtains left over from the last casino he shut down.

I'm awaiting the news media to present cartoons of Trump's family marching the goose step behind him as they walk up the podium to be sworn in this coming January.  They've done a great job of underestimating and poking fun at him to this point, so I imagine they'll continue.

It brings in ratings and sells newspapers ... to those that can't afford cable.

Female Clinton supporters now fear for their lives.  Trump ... the male, chauvinistic pig of today, will bring forth a multitude of changes ... including allowing today's male to carry a club and "conk" the female of his choice and drag her back to his cave to have babies and clean the dirt from the rock furniture.  


Many of my minority friends, as if labeling was necessary, feel the fear in the air.  Visions of stormtroopers, smashing down doors in the middle of the night, collecting them and herding them like the Nazi's did the Jews during the years preceding WWII fill their heads.  Sounds of gunshots fill the air and lead finds its mark in the bodies of the innocent members of their family and community members.  The nightmare is to become a reality is to become a nightmare.

The airwaves of the Northeast and West Coast are filled with the sounds of R.E.M. ....

"Oh, woe is me, ain't this fun, 

 Trump is King, we all are done!!!!

Get out the BBQ grills ... our goose is cooked.

Or, is it?

First off, I didn't vote for either Trump or Clinton.  I couldn't validate voting for the lesser of two evils, so I didn't vote for either evil.  I, instead, chose to cast my vote for Gary Johnson.  

Now, Clinton's supporters are saying that a vote for Johnson was a vote for Trump.  Not so.  I wasn't going to vote for her anyway, just as I wasn't going to vote for Trump.  I had to cast my ballot for the only one I trusted ... and neither of the major candidates fit that requirement.  

Of course, Trump supporters are saying that I took the easy road and almost put Clinton in office by not voting for Trump.  Amazing how small minds all think the same, isn't it?

Folks, the world is not going to end.  It didn't end when O-Bam-Bama took office, and it's not going to end when the flaring Trump-ette takes the oath.  You forget, he's only the president ... not God (as some of O-Bam-Bama's supporters would like you to think).

Members of the male gender are not grabbing clubs and changing their ways just because

of the election results.  If they're asses to you, it's because they've always been asses.  

In fact, they are just as shallow as the women that voted for Clinton only because they were the same gender as her (yes, there were many).   I think these two gender groups kind of balanced out the negatives of each other's votes.  You know, "stupid is as stupid does."

Oh, come on, please don't sit there and tell me that being a member of the female or male gender makes you an automatic vote getter for the office of P.U.S.A.   I would hope you researched the candidates more than that prior to casting your ballot.

We have four years in front of us to judge what influence Trump can impose upon Congress.  Hopefully, he will make some changes.  There are necessary reforms that must be installed to social programs to eliminate freeloaders and those that haven't earned the right to participate.  There are corporations that need to be challenged about moving jobs and factories overseas and spitting on America's workforce, all the while expecting these same people to purchase the product they produce.  The forecasted rate hikes for Obamacare are astronomical and changes must occur or fines will be imposed those who can't afford the premiums.  And, racial tensions must be addressed in all areas.

Then again, he's only the president.  Congress is where most of these changes must occur.  Getting big business out of the pockets of these representatives and turning them around to really concern themselves with the needs of those they represent is an almost impossible challenge to take on.  

Regardless of who won the election, we were going to have to wait to see how they did. 

 That takes four years to take place.

Let's hold off forecasting doom and gloom until it's over.

Okay?

C'mon ... say "Okay!"

Okay!

Aging and Indiana's Adult Protection Service Gestapo

Couples not allowed.

Like blood thirsty stormtroopers, the Adult Protection Service from Monroe County, Indiana is once again on the move!  Marching without fear of retaliation, its paid mercenaries again swoop into a home they've already destroyed and won't be satisfied until they have all members confined in a nursing home status.  

Like most laws created, a law office, hired by the service, has found a way to gain financially.  A year ago, they found their prospective cash cow, took advantage of an elderly man's naive nature, and proceeded to separate him and his wife of thirty-six years by having themselves declared her legal guardian.  

(*I've discussed the how's in a previous post.)

So, all of her property was taken to be sold, retirement annuity and burial policies cashed in, and 24 hour confinement in a nursing home was her fate. 

Of course, all of the husband's property, income, and personal information had to be disclosed for this process to move along.  Information, to which, they had full access.

Access which provided a future target for financial gain ... $10,000 per person.

So is the continuing saga concerning my stepmother and father.

Tuesday, I received phone calls from a nursing home administrator, the Monroe County Prosecutor's Office, and the lawyer's office which seems to be the sole contracted receiver of funds from those they chase.

It's a new form of "ambulance chasing" only under the guise 

of protecting those unable to protect themselves.

They all presented themselves as "worried" about my father.

What a false facade!  One could feel the drool and dollar signs dripping against the receiver of the phone as they expressed their supposed concern.

Allow me interrupt this oratory with a little information about their prey.  

"I've done things my way my
whole life.  Now, the APS wants
to tell me I'm crazy for doing them.

My father is 82 years old and is in better health than I am.  He's never had heart problems, spends an substantial amount of money monthly on vitamins, and eats a low fat diet which excludes all fast food.  He mows four acres of lawn weekly, chops his own wood for a Mother Earth News style home furnace he built by hand, plants and cares for an annual garden, and has no problem in maintaining an impeccably clean home.  He's never late on bills, has never had a complaint filed by any neighbor for any reason, and is a respected member of the community.  He keeps up on community news, small town gossip, and can relate it to you without hesitation.

He has devoted himself to a seven day a week, seven hour a day obligation of staying next to his wife in the nursing home to ensure she's cared for properly.  He has taken on the tasks of feeding her, cutting and styling her hair, and even changing her bed when the nurses seem to be "too busy" with other patients to do it.  So much for the prime nursing home care one would expect a patient to receive.

Although more a wish than a reality, he has had a hard time believing that his wife will never be allowed to return to their home.  Yet, even though the experience has been an exceptional physical and mental strain on him, he never stopped his daily visits and care.  

That has been his mistake.

Being exhausted at times, he has dozed by in a chair beside her bed.  One evening, he fell into a deep sleep and when awakened at 2 a.m. from a nightmare, he asked, "What funeral home am I in?"  

After a moment, he recognized where he was at and left the facility to go home.

This was noted and written in a record that someone obviously started on him without permission.  Of course, the nightmare was ignored as being such and instead the incident was listed as a state of dementia.  

The person making this claim was not a licensed physician!

If you would like to tell me that you've never awakened in a strange surrounding and wondered where the hell you are, I would be very close to telling you that lying is a sin.  

If you've never awakened from a nightmare, whether it be one where you're being 

chased or are falling, and not taken a few seconds to gather yourself, I would have

 to repeat my statement from a sentence ago.  

And, if you've never jumped out of bed thinking you were late to work, only to find 

that it was the weekend, I'd say you have a habitual lying problem.

Mind you, never once did I accuse you of exhibiting Dementia!

  

What I want to know is why it took the staff until 2 a.m. in the morning

 to wake a visitor that was in a locked door facility?  

Sounds like nursing home security need be investigated instead of my father.

They also say that he feels he is "at home" there.  My father is at home wherever his wife is.  His whole purpose in being with her is to share the love he has with the one who has been taken away.  He knows he's not like the patients there, is shocked by the way the nursing home has terminated personnel due to budget cuts, and, again, only spends so much time there because he felt he was "helping" with the care of his wife.

Little did he know it would be used against him in a quest to incarcerate him.

Last week, my father was driving his pick-up truck.  As he crested a rise, he found himself facing a lawn care trailer that had been backed out into his lane of the road.  The driver had exited the vehicle and left it there as he did something else.

My father hit his brakes and skidded to a stop, but not before hitting the trailer.  It damaged his truck just beyond "driving" ability, but there were no personal injuries.  

"I used to love to laugh.
Now, I'm just waiting to die."

Unable to have transportation to get him to the nursing home, my father decided he would walk.  This was a distance of about five miles.  He had walked this distance to and from school during his youth, and felt himself still physically capable.  

(I had to do it during my youth, too, usually in the dark of night after basketball practice.  Icy rain, an armload of heavy books, and cars speeding along the highway are my memories as my father worked night shift and couldn't pick me up like the other kids fathers did.)  

Anyway, he did this for several days (proving he was physically capable to all of us) before I became aware of the situation Monday evening.  His response to my shock was simply, "I walk that much around the yard every day.  Walking is good for you.  Besides, most of the time a neighbor will stop and give me a ride."

As I said, his physical health has been excellent.

I was told Tuesday morning (in a call from the nursing home administrator) that he didn't bring anything to eat for the day, They felt he was forgetting to do so, displaying early Alzheimer's memory loss characteristics.  I was surprised as he always prepared a sandwich for himself and a bowl of fruit or vegetables for his wife.  When I asked him about this, he stated, "It would have spoiled in the heat during the walk. I eat before I go and when I get home.  It's no big deal."

Sounds like a man that isn't thinking sanely, doesn't it?   

I don't eat breakfast.  I guess that makes me a target, too!

Call me "naive" also as I thanked the nursing home administrator for telling me she'd arranged a ride home for him Tuesday with a nurse that traveled that direction and would provide him lunch that afternoon.  Yes, I thought it was being done out of human kindness as it was being portrayed.  I didn't know she was going to use it as another black mark against him in an effort to have him confined.

I had planned on going up to see him on Thursday, my day off.  I wanted to check on the progress of his truck repair and probably purchase a car for him to drive.  I was worried more about his safety than his ability to walk the distance as the elderly are targets for many wrong doers.  

That was before the Tuesday morning blitzkrieg!

I was barraged by calls from the nursing home, the prosecutors office, and the law firm representing them.  I was informed of the file the nursing home had obviously been keeping, their reporting of that file to the prosecutor's office, and the somewhat "threatening" warning  of the open case file that now existed.

The gestapo had been activated.

What has to now be done?

Since a person is guilty until proven innocent in this situation, my father now has to undergo an examination to determine his cognizant ability, an examination to determine his physical ability, and a driving examination to determine his driving ability.

Welcome to Indiana!

After discussing these new developments with him Tuesday evening, I found myself having to take two days off of work to travel the 250 miles to him to get the ball rolling.  Since 3 a.m. Wednesday morning, I've set up appointments with the Veteran's Administration Hospital and for a driving test, I have a car for him to drive in the meantime (after riding with him and finding nothing wrong with his driving at all), and am on my fourth pack of cigarettes.

But, the Gestapo is breathing down his neck.

I'm supposed to keep them updated as to all results.  I find it hard to do so without major malice coming through in my responses to them.  The term "witch hunters" comes to mind and the days of Salem haunt me and my willingness to supply them with any response.

Guilty until proven innocent is not part of our culture!  

Why has the state of Indiana accepted it as theirs?  

I'm sure that the state didn't intend for innocent individuals to be 

wrongly charged, so why is it occurring and 

what can be done to stop this atrocity?

My stepmother is a victim of Alzheimer's Disease and does have bouts of Dementia.  I saw this and knew it was only a matter of time before it got to the point of my father having to do something with her.  However, the state determined they needed to do something immediately and within a very short period of time took control.

However, my father does not have Alzheimer's Disease.  He remembers what he wants to, takes notes on appointments and important matters (as most of us do), and casts away what he could care less about, such as general non-important conversations with which he feels no need to remember.  

I do the same with my wife's conversations, as most spouses do.  If you live in Indiana and are over eighteen years of age, be careful as you may find yourself confined to a nursing home for doing so.

He exhibits no signs of Dementia.  He's the same stubborn old man any time of the day without change.  In his life, being engulfed in his obligations to his home and wife, it doesn't matter what day of the week it is as long as the bills are paid and there's milk in the house.  Since every day is has the same routine, knowing the date holds no importance to him.  Some people just can't understand that not everyone finds the same things important as they do.  Ask me what the date is and I'll look at my cell phone to see.  Do you do the same?

So, who's being hurt?

First, my stepmother.  Why?  Because the nursing home is definitely understaffed.  There's simply not enough staff to handle the individual feeding demands of the patients.  Why will she suffer?  Because, with my father now under the spotlight of "evil eyes" watching his every move, I've limited him to a maximum of two hours a day with her.  We simply can't take the chance of them reporting another normal activity as some sort of mental illness.  Without his assisting her, she will become another that has to be fed a cold meal by the time the staff gets around to feeding her, one that lies in a wet bed until they get around to changing it, and one that sit's listlessly awaiting death to take her while individual attention is impossible to share.

Also hurt, my father.  With his visiting time being cut short, he worries about her and the situation of which we're forced to allow her to remain.  Also, being accused of what's been stated is agonizing to him and his self worth, not to mention being required to take exams to prove his innocence and sanity.  He considered his efforts at the nursing home admirable.  He was relieving others of taking care of his wife so they could assist others.  He considered them his friends.

He now realizes they've stabbed him in the back.  All the joking and conversations were simply a ploy.  It finally hit him square between the eyes when I took him there Wednesday morning and he saw they'd removed the chair in her room that he normally sits in.

One can only surmise it was their way of saying, 

"You're not welcome here."

So much for "Thank you for helping."

Kind of shows the attitude they have, doesn't it?

Kind of makes you wonder what the state of Indiana really had in mind.

Then again, lawyers always help lawyers make money, don't they?

I'm Back!!! Thumpin Trumpin, Hillary Humpin' and Ten Things Of Thankful

Well, did you miss me?

That's a very dangerous question to ask, especially when you're unsure of the answers that will be forthcoming.

It's like being seventeen years old and asking your sixteen year old girlfriend if she's pregnant?

There are some answers that you want to hear and some that can put you in jail ... at least in some states.  (Yes, Indiana was one of those that could ... but no, she wasn't ... almost sixteen but not quite, that is.)

No, she wasn't pregnant.

I was.

Just kidding.

If you followed this blog, you know what I've been going through.  If not, scroll down and read the previous posting from April 30th (it's right below this one so you don't have to worry about all the extra work involved) and you'll be able to catch up quickly.

I'll probably fill you in with an update in a moment, but first things first.

We have two presidential candidates in the running.  If you include the Green Party and the Libertarian Party, we have four.

Actually, the last two are the real candidates.  Mr. Trump and Mrs. Clinton are the jokes.

Oh My God ... did I just say that?!?!?

I know, all the Republicans and Democrats have just placed a curse on me.  I'll never be able to have sex again.

My wife already made that promise to me so you're too late.

Let's just pray that if one doesn't use it that it doesn't fall off.

I think Hillary's already did ... and Trump got mad because it was longer than his.

Sorry, I'll stop because there are children present.

I tend to look to Cher for a song that describes the major party candidates this year.  Ever hear of "Gypsies, Tramps and Thieves"?

(**Video doesn't appear on cell phones.  Now, don't you wish you were on your PC?")

Okay, so I've already lost half of my audience.  What else is new?

Seriously, I think we need Morgan Freeman in the running for PUSA.  He does a great job playing the president in the movies, which is more than Trump or Hillary have done in their campaigns, so why not give him a shot?  

Okay, who's the ass that's holding his criminal past 

in "The Shawshank Redemption" against him?

Besides, presidents always have television movies made about them sooner or later.  Kathy Bates isn't old or wrinkled enough to play Hillary yet, nor is Neil Patrick Harris obnoxious enough yet to take on Trump's role.  It's a losing battle.

See, Morgan Freeman is looking better and better, isn't he?

I have to shake my head in wonderment of the common philosophy that "Trump isn't part of the political system".  Let's step back and look at that.  The system depends on big business filling the pockets of politicians.  Trump has always been a part of this system.  Tell me one gambling casino that hasn't added to the annual "undeclared" income of a politician.  He's just been on the other side of the picture, kind of like the Playboy joke section is on the back of the centerfold.  (Or, used to be ... it's been years since I've looked at one ... as porn is so easy to find on the web.)

And, my head continues to shake when people tell me that "Hillary is a part of the system that works for the common man".  I've been looking for years for that part and still haven't found it.  And, to look at the email fiasco, her achievements (?) in the State Department, and her consistent changing of sides dependent upon what group she happens to be addressing ... well, the common man definitely serves her purposes ... and serves her at lunch and dinner with drinks, too.   (Some have stated she's a lousy tipper.)

Yes, I'll vote this election, but it won't be for the "lesser of two evils" as has been described by many way too often this year.  No, I'll probably vote Libertarian, if for no other reason than to say I voted and have a right to bitch about the winner.  

May the best "Gypsy, Tramp, or Thief" win!

And, without further ado, let us get to what this is all about ... 

Ten Things Of Thankful!

See ALL TTOT Posts HERE !!!!!!

OKAY! OKAY!

I promise to stay away from any more political comments in the Ten Things of Thankful.

Previously, I found myself entering a rut and not being able to escape.  As a large portion of my audience has been from outside of the United States, I'm not going to bore you any longer with our political woes.  (You'll probably experience them for yourselves in the near future after the election.)  No, I need to address some other thankfuls from now on ... to things that the "common man" can relate.  (No, I'm not talking about toenail fungus, crotch rot, or YouTube's exploding cysts.)

So, here is this week's Ten Things of Thankful!

This week, I'm thankful for:

1)  ... Black Widow Spiders.   Yes, how would I ever know that Black Widow venom would only cause a minor welt upon my legs had I not been recently bitten by them on three different occasions.  They do take a long time to heal as it has been a month since the first bite and it's just now scabbing over.  I'd been bitten by a variety of spider from India about eight years ago and still show the mark of the bite on my index finger, but these wounds should be gone in a month or two.   

One of these days I'll stop trying to train them to dance like Ellen.

2)  ... Lawyer Handling Skills.   Years of experience on stage, in front of training classes, and dealing with all types of customers have given me skills.  Every once in a while, I need a good chance to demonstrate the power of the spoken word.  This week, in dealing with an attorney that was supposedly handling continuing legal matters and monetary requirements between my father and the guardians of my stepmother, I let it loose.  When told he was going to be required to pay for nine and a half months of her nursing home care and that the guardians decided he needed to accept her rental property in Indianapolis back and pay all past due insurance and bills since they took it over, I couldn't hold back any longer.  

"Are we paying you to act like a dog and rollover with your legs in the air so they'll scratch your tummy, or are we paying you to be a fighting dog?  First off, they've wasted over a hundred thousand dollars of her money on $10,000 a letter outside lawyer fees and other non essentials.  If you're not willing to bring this to their attention and require a dollar by dollar account of her estate that they took control of, then we'll find someone who will.  And, since her rental property hasn't panned out to be the cash cow they thought it would be, they now want to give it back?  Forget it!  They're bound by the same court order we are ... it's not a pick and choose option package.  They need to accept what they've gone after and pay up.  We wash our hands of it.  Now, tell me, what kind of dog are you so we'll know what to expect from you in the future?"

And then I exhaled.

My father looked at me ... and then at my crotch ... 

like he was expecting to see the appearance of some gigantic balls.  

We got our way in the end, which saved him over $60,000 

and past due rental property bills totaling over $5,000.

I walked out of there like a bow-legged cowboy.

3)  ... EKG's.   This week, I had another episode with my heart.  After a chest pain filled weekend, Monday found me in St. Joseph's Hospital hooked up to monitoring equipment and having blood drawn from several places of my body.   First, why do nurses always look for the hairiest places on one's body to attach EKG patches?  I'm not really a hairy guy.  In fact, I often look forward to the moment I reach puberty and can grow sideburns.  Yet, nurses always find the few patches I have.  It's like they're saying, "When we pull these off later, you're not going to have any hair left anywhere on your body!"

Thank God they don't attach them to one's pubic area.

And, why do they hunt for different areas from which to draw blood.  Isn't it all the same as it circulates?  It's not like they're going to find a different flavor in a different body area.  Hell, if you want selection, go to Baskin-Robbins!

32 flavors I'm not!

4)  ... Early Retirement?   A little over a month ago, I hit the minimum retirement age for Social Security.  It was time for a major decision.

Take a reduced amount and make the wife work her butt off to pay the bills

Or

Wait four more years, get the full amount, 

and still make the wife work her butt off to pay the bills.

My wife asked me if I still enjoyed downloading music, eating out, and having money to waste upon occasion.

Four years is really not that long a time.

5)  ... McDonald's Strawberry Banana Smoothie.  I have become addicted to this drink.  Actually, I've only had one, but am experiencing fantasies of indulging in another.  I'm fooling myself thinking that this drink is healthy for me, but then again, I have to remember it is made at McDonald's.  These are the folks that manufacture pieces of chicken that nobody has ever found in a chicken.  No, as I've turned over a new leaf and am only indulging in healthy habits, I have to reconsider returning to have another.  Maybe I'll just light up a cigarette and think about it for a while.

6)  ... Steak Prices Rising.  I was shocked the other night when I went shopping for steaks.  This is a food that I save for when my wife goes on vacation with our daughter's family and leaves me at home to enjoy the finer things in life ... fantasy films, loud music, and exotic foods (to her) like beets, cabbage, various types of greens, and steak all included.  Now, steak prices rose like a rocket when gas prices escalated.  However, since the media had reported an overabundance of beef in recent months, and since the price of a gallon of gas has gone way down, I logically reasoned that beef prices must have gone down, too.

Wrong!

When I finally found a couple that I could afford in the grocery store's "I'm Not Too Green To Eat But Don't Come Back And Bitch If You Get Sick" section, I hesitated only long enough to pick up another.  

I saved it for my wife's return home.  

She ate it tonight.  

I wonder if since she ate it voluntarily if I can be 

charged for murder if she dies from it?

7)  ... Old Monster Movies.  There's nothing like turning on your television and finding an old monster movie, especially those with special effects by Ray Harryhausen. "Jason and the Argonauts", "Jack the Giant Killer", and "The Valley Of Gwangi" were several that utilized his claymation talents and patience and became masterpieces in their own right.  Not a lot of blood, gore, guts, or veins filling the screen like during the RNC and DNC, just good old fun and fantasy.  

I'd like to see another claymation program, "Celebrity Deathmatch" be brought back on the air.  True, they were always gross to view, but imagine the fun involved with settling civil disobedience in this manner.  In other words, let's have "Gladiators of the World" make its debut show with a real Death Match!  Start by bringing in a ISIS member with a sword and the president of the National Rifle Association with a Springfield Armory 9 mm pistol and enjoy the show!  (And, don't forget the popcorn!)

8)  ... People That Text While Driving.  I had the most devoted texting taking place this week as I drove home from Indiana.  So, I'm stuck in Louisville rush hour traffic around the construction area of the new bridge.  I watch a wrecker driver, with car in tow, holding up his phone at eye level as he was texting.  He was so intent on what he was texting that he didn't realize that traffic had stopped in front of him.  Suddenly, he was reminded of this as the front of his wrecker crumpled against the back of an eighteen wheeler flatbed.  So, the wrecker needed a wrecker.  And we wonder why car insurance rates are so high.  

9)  ... Doctors Becoming Like Car Dealerships.     Okay, another episode experienced this week made me cringe.  While at the doctor's office Monday, I found myself in front of a brand new doctor as my old one had taken a teaching job at a local university.  After trying to freak me out to the point of wanting me to ride to the hospital in an ambulance (when I had just driven 20 miles to get to his office), he starts talking about oxygen levels and the need for sleep studies.  He hadn't properly diagnosed my first episode and he's trying to sell me add-on's!!!  Only if he offered me an extended warranty would my attention be diverted his direction.  Good thing my tennis shoes were new or he might have tried to sell me tire and wheel protection!

10)  ... Venetian Blind Destroying Cats.  Yes, I love my cats.  (They told me to say that.)  But, my two felines frustrate finances forever.  A couple of months ago, I purchased new blinds for the living room.  Well, fat butt Gabriella has found that if she waddles to the top of the couch, lays on her side and sticks her front legs through them, the blades will bend down and she can view everything that's going on in the neighborhood.  However, in doing so day after day, she has already broken two of the blades.  So, I went to Lowe's and attempted to find some stronger ones.  I can't tell you how ridiculous it sounded when I told the store clerk that I wanted some blinds that cats couldn't destroy.  I think he actually believed me when I told him I ran a zoo and wanted something that the cowardly lion and Dorothy could use to have some privacy.  (Lowe's and Walmart are known to draw employees from the same pool!) 

And that's going to do it for my return to Ten Things of Thankful!!

P.S.

The last three months I've been away have been filled with a craziness in the world I don't think we've ever seen before.  Black Lives Matter protesters hypocritically stopping ambulances from getting to hospitals, a police officer shooting an unarmed social worker whose hands were raised to show they poised no threat, ISIS going wild in several countries using everything from knives to bombs to machine guns to a truck to kill innocent people, Social Security checks not being mailed out because the United States government stole the funds to use on other B.S. items, and police officers being assassinated in several cities by idiots believing in some ridiculous martyr vs. vengeance philosophy.  

The government wants to: 

1)  take away the guns of the innocents when average police reaction times exceed 20 minutes, (Population Control)

2)  lower grade averages to ensure more kids pass and feel good about being stupid, (Create the Ignorant "Herd" Mentality") and 

3)  raise taxes on those that can't pay the taxes they owe already.  (Total Elimination of Middle Class)

Yet, both parties tell us they can cure the problems.

I think an annual killing purge, held only in Washington D.C. while Congress is in session, would be the best cure.  However, since "The Purge" has already been used in the movie, let's call it "The Fresh Start Program".  It worked in the movies.

Maybe then you'd see the benefit of having Morgan Freeman as President.

Ciao!

P.S.S.   Please leave comments.  I've missed y'all!