Monsters And Maniacs, Could You Be One?

Does evil hold your attention?

Do you find yourself drawn to watching graphic movies and documentaries that you know will create a problem with your sleeping habits?

Why do you watch them?

Do you want to be frightened?  Do you seek to experience the adrenalin rush that fear and evil provides?  Or, is it that your curiosity pulls you towards the morbid, or dark side of life?

You know, the type of evil violence your parents always warned you
might happen if you didn't get home before dark!

I'm not talking of stories of werewolves and vampires ripping the throats out of their victims. 

I leave those to Kristen Stewart!

Instead, real blood, gore, and mayhem that real life crazies provide.  True life tales of surviving the maniacal assaults of desperate madmen who kill for either the twisted, psychological thrill of holding the power of death in their hands, or because they think it necessary for them to escape possible imprisonment.

U.S. Army Sniper.
Public Domain Photo

Sound like someone you know?

Since the dawn of time, people have been killed for many reasons.  Wealth, power and religion have ended the lives of millions.  Wars have been fought to justify the insane greed of rulers who wanted to own it all.  Of course, most of the rulers had armies do the majority of the killing for them.  Does that make it right?

If so, how big does the army 
have to be?

CHARLES MANSON
https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/User:
Flickr_upload_bot

Charles Manson had an army of sorts.  They called it the "family".  We all know the story.   His reason wasn't money ... it was power.  

How far would you go

 to become Top Dog?

Is there an internal desire inside of you that lingers ... holding a deep grudge for someone that inflicted either tremendous physical or mental injury to you in times passed?  Would you like to see them suffer under the hands of a professional torture expert?  Would their screams of agony satisfy your desires, or would you want them to suffer the affects of a razor slicing layer after layer of skin off of every limb of their body, with death as a final result?

No, I'm not advertising for business.  
That's not my line of work.

I'm only curious how far you would really go? (It's always nice to know one's friends, lol.) Would anger and desperation allow you to proceed beyond the realm of social conditioning, or would you recognize your actions and allow guilt to cease them prior to completion?

I’d prefer you not answer that question.  One never knows who may be watching.  

Especially with tags like this blog is going to have.  (lol)

Sunbathing in the Bahamas ...

could you do what it takes to get there?

This file is licensed under the Creative Commons 

Attribution-Share Alike 2.0 Generic

Could you kill for money?

Not the convenience store clerk for $36 type of money, but the huge amounts we only dream of.  Five, ten, twenty million dollar type of amounts.   Could you do it?  Would you do it?   How desperate would you have to be?

Just think ... life in the Bahamas ... daily sunbathing on the beautiful white sand beaches ... tropical drinks in hand ... living the life of luxury.  Why, there's even cabana boys and girls to service your personal needs exactly the way you like them serviced.   

I sense your breathing is getting shallow and faster just thinking about it.  

Easy now!  Slow down!

Could you do it?  

Would you be able to plan it out like the Colorado assassin did in the theater last year?  Could you simply burst inside and start shooting like he did?  Something like 22 people were killed.  Now, because of his careful, advance planning, an insanity plea has been filed on behalf of the accused.  

Yet, in the actions of a sane person, he:

1. intricately planned out the crime, 
2. ordered and purchased all the weapons, 
3. preceded the act by requesting mind doctor assistance (minimally, I might add), 
4. meticulously set complicated booby traps in his apartment, 
5. costumed himself to project an image of insanity,
6. hid his insanity so well that his "mind doctor" mother couldn't detect it, and
7. timed his entrance perfectly for the first action scene in the movie.  

However, we're now supposed to believe that this person was insane.  Many still believe this intelligent young man did it to simply prove he could beat the system.  And, he just might!

Could you do it as well?

Could you play the Norman Bates role as convincingly as Anthony Perkins?

Or, will you become the Janet Leigh character in the next hotel you stay?

Many that would like to be on the jury in this person's trial.  Most feel as though he planned this act as a personal power challenge to see if he could outsmart the system and get away with it.  Many have stated they would love to give him the death penalty.  

In a way, isn't that killing?   

Or, is it the religious philosophy of an eye for an eye?

Nothing like religion to bring about 

a peaceful solution, is there?

So, how about you?  What would it take to get you to kill?  Think about it for a second.  Don't think you could do it?  

Well, what if:

1. your children were being attacked?
2. you were experiencing a violent home invasion?
3. you were walking home and were attacked by a maniac or a gang?
4. you were bullied without mercy for years?
5. you were watching a shooter fire round after round at a playground?

 Still don't think you do it?  

Maybe you ought to think about it.

Given the right circumstances, we all could.  

That’s right ... the lady in the grocery store that keeps stopping in front of you could be ready to snap and attack you with a can of creamed corn. Or, how about the convenience store clerk that has gone off the deep end and is ready to drown you in artificial coffee creamer?    Maybe, that guy tailgating you the black Honda CR-Z has a vendetta against Prius drivers and is searching for his next victim.  Perhaps, even the school principal is awaiting the next parent / teachers conference to get back at all the idiots that can't raise children properly! (I might join them if that were the case, lol.)

Are you getting closer to going over the edge, too?  

Do you even know how close you really are?

Could the fear you feel while watching the movies and documentaries be tempting you to become one of the players instead of the watchers?   Could your quest for adrenalin drive you closer and closer to the edge?  Is the video game you're playing be the conditioning tool you need to see life only as a 500 point score?  Could you be the next one we’re watching the documentary about?  

What would it take?

*** Disclaimer:  This is a post to simply make you think a little.  I had originally intended to make this blog post much more humorous.  However, in attempting to do so, I found it either not fitting well, sounding somewhat too lighthearted, and less meaningful.  The sarcasm added is to allow some of the tension a chance to escape, but still, the final question, "What would it take?" is one that does require much internal soul searching.  The answer isn't easy, nor one that we wish to find.  Yet, in today's world, may be a necessary evil to discover.  Peace!

It's Tuesday, So It Must Be Rambling Time!

Over the last three days, I've written four blogs ... and published none of them.

Why?

Because I'm getting long winded in my old age.  (Okay, so you already knew that.  Sometimes, the writer is the last to know.)

I usually write my blogs in Microsoft Word and then copy and paste them, adding the pictures afterwards.  However, when I find myself at four pages, and not yet halfway done, I have to ask myself, "Will this hold an Internet audience?"

Inevitably, I have to say, "No, it won't."

So, I have two options.  Either publish it knowing that I'm not going to be read, or not publish it and have the blog go unnoticed.  

Just what every writer wants!  That's like being a baker and people not eating your cake.  Or, being a home builder and seeing the homes stay empty.  Or, being a porno actor and not ... well, use your imagination.

So, instead of keeping the blog bare (okay, stop thinking about the porno's now), I've decided to ramble.  I've yet to decide about what to ramble.  That's the nice thing about rambling ... you don't have to plan in advance ... you just ramble.

Nat King Cole had a big hit in the early 60's called "Ramblin' Rose" that everybody loved.  I never could figure it out.  Was a rose actually rambling?  And, if so, what would a rose ramble about?

"Hey, let's talk awhile about thorns.  I love my thorns.  In fact, I love my thorns so much that I try to make them bigger and bigger.  They keep dumbasses from picking me, smelling me, and tossing me away!  Of course, there's always the dummy in love that doesn't see that I have thorns.  I laugh my petals off when the prick sticks his fingers with my thorny stickers.  So, I guess you could say my thorny stickers stick the horny pickers!"  

I really don't think Nat King Cole was thinking about that when he sang the song.

Could it be that Rose is a female that constantly prattles?  

"My husband ... oh, my husband ... he's such a hard working schmuck!  He works hard at not working!  I say, "Leonard, just go to work and get the job done.  We need the money!"  And he looks at me and says, "Rose, I'm not feeling well today.  I think I'm going to stay home."  I say, "HOME!  HOME!  I don't want cha at home.  I want cha at work!  I want to stay home and don't want cha around.  You think I want cha to give whatever you've got to me?!?!  You gotta be kidding!  Go to work and give it to that schmuck of a boss you've got!  The one that won't give you a raise!  Make him sick!"

No, I don't think Nat had that in mind either.  Perhaps I should go back and listen to the song again ... one day ... and spend more time trying to figure it out.   Nawwwwww!

Anyway, I was sitting here thinking about all that's gone on in the last week and questioning some of the latest news items.

1. If the Pope is a direct representative to God, why are men choosing him?  Shouldn't God send a sign or something?  I'd be looking for the guy walking around with the flashing cloud following him, wouldn't you?  And, now the new pope is Pope Francis.  The last Francis I remember was 'Francis the Talking Mule" from movie fame in the 50's.   
2. If two high school kids rape an underage teenage girl that's so drunk she can't remember what happened, where were the parents?  "Sure, my dear, I understand that you're underage.  But, as a parent, I hope you get totally wasted and enjoy all the delinquencies life offers!  Just don't throw up on the carpet when you get home."
3. If the government finances are so bad that the White House has to stop the public tours, why is John Kerry allotting Egypt over 200 million dollars in aid?  I guess the pyramids will still be able to keep their tour guides with that cash!
4. If North Korea poses such a nuclear threat to us, why don't we volunteer to send more overpaid NBA basketball players there to negotiate?  Dennis Rodman obviously did such a good job, just imagine what a few more of these under educated, overpaid millionaires could do.  Before you would know it, the North Korean leaders would be so busy fighting in the stands, they wouldn't have time to escalate war possibilities.
5. Who really cares if Julianne Hough and Ryan Seacrest broke up?  She used him to get ahead, and he used her to get a head.  That's what they do in Hollywood, isn't it?

So much for the news.  It's really just as ridiculous as always.  Common sense takes a back seat and loses its virginity, just like at the drive-in movies in the 60's.  (No wonder Elvis flicks were so popular then ... no one watched them but the drive-ins were filled with young girls fantasies and young boys efforts to complete them.)

One of my blogs that remains unpublished was about the differences in life from decade to decade over the last 50 years.  I started it in the 60's, as I was only 6 years old when the 50's ended.  I concluded that my first six years really didn't make me an expert on that decade, unless it was filled with measles, pets, using an outhouse, and having an operation.  Of course, I remember TV shows like "The Texas Rangers", "Rin Tin Tin", "Zorro" and "Hopalong Cassidy", but no one else does.  No need to talk about them then.  I'm thinking about making it a weekly series, even knowing that many weren't around until many decades later.  Let me know what you think about it in the comments.

Another is a strange topic that I'm working on making shorter and more humorous.  I'm almost afraid to publish another cerebral piece after just having done the "Secrets" one last week, so it may be a week or two in coming.  

Nothing like getting commercials about coming attractions, is there?

Well, that's it for this Rambling Tuesday feature.  I could ramble on and on, but one must know where the Internet limits are.  I will do my best to participate in FTSF this week.  Last week, I was just too wiped out to even try.  Work is a killer of creativity at times, and 11 hour days don't help.  

Again, my apologies to all of you that follow my writings, but seldom see me at yours.  I do my best, but have recently found myself sleeping in the recliner immediately after eating my evening meal around nine p.m.   I'll try to do better.

Keep smiling and writing!  The two go well together.  So do we.  

See you next time!

Secrets!

Secrets!  Secrets!    

Who knows a great secret?

Do you?

What is it!   No, don't tell me.  If you did, it wouldn't be a secret!  Unless I promised not to tell, that is.  Then, it would still be a secret ... wouldn't it?  Or, would it?

Are you still keeping a secret that you promised never to tell years ago?  

Why?

Is it something that you're embarrassed to tell?  Or, is it simply better that no one knows about it?  Could it harm you in adult life?  Or, is it something you've done as an adult that you don't want your spouse to know about?

Did you mess around on your spouse?  Did you lie to them about something else?  Did you use someone else as an example at the dinner table just to see what type of reaction your spouse would express?

Was it really that bad?

Or, is it a secret you will carry to your grave with you?  Is it so horrendous that you're afraid your entire family will disown you for doing?  If so, how do you live with yourself?  Isn't it eating you alive as it slowly creeps toward exposure, only to be shoved back inside time after time?

Would it put you in jail if known?  Would the authorities come bursting down the door to handcuff you and carry you off to the slammer for years?  Or, would the judge simply laugh about it, give you a token fine, and send you on your way?

Everyone keeps temporary secrets annually.  It's called not telling what you bought someone for Christmas.  Are you good at hiding it inside?  Or, when questioned, does your face give the answer away?  


So, are you good at keeping the secrets, or not?  Would a spotlight and rubber hose get information out of you, or would it take the old bamboo shoots under the fingernails to get the job done?  

Are you a member of the Mafia?  Can't tell?  So, if you can't tell me you are, you must be ... right?  

Don't tell me, 
I'm sure you'd have to kill me if you did.

Secrets are only told on a need to know basis ... or, are they?   Is telling a secret something that is done out of spite, or is it a power hang-up?  ("I know something you don't.")   Or, do you simply decide that it no longer matters to anyone and spew it out for the hell of it?  

If it no longer matters, what made it so important before?

Is our life ruled by the secrets we hide deep within?  Do our actions today revolve around the secrets we've kept hidden in the past?  Do we avoid areas of life that we've visited before, only to find ourselves too weak to resist what they offer?

Or, is it simply a secret you'd rather not tell?

I remember having secrets in my youth.  My mother once decided that I needed to take cold pork and bean sandwiches for school lunches.  I hated them and refused to eat them.  Yet, I could find no way to dispose of them with the teacher's eyes constantly on me.  So, I'd wait until I got off the school bus and stuff them into a drain in front of the house.

My father discovered them one day.  My secret had been found out!  It seemed even the stray dogs and cats in the area didn't like pork and bean sandwiches.  My mother, after getting over the anger and hurt, finally decided that lunch meat might get eaten.  It was a turning point in my school lunch life.

On Classmates.com, I've discovered several girls had crushes on me in high school.  They finally decided that keeping these childhood secrets didn't do them any good back then and really didn't matter much to them today.  So, they've confessed.

I wish I would've known back then.  My life might have been completely different.

Which leads to the question, "Does keeping secrets change the directions of life for those not only keeping the secrets, but those whom from the secrets are kept?"

Could keeping these secrets be a negative in the spectrum of life?  Could the childish and selfish minds that seek to keep the knowledge solitary be hindering the options of the happiness that life could offer?

Or, could it be better that we don't know everything?  

Do you know?

Or, is it a secret?


 (Here's your chance to get a deep, dark secret off your chest.  Just comment below!)

FTSF: Wondering About Wonder Woman?

pop culture geek

A couple of weeks ago, I started talking about Superman, his possible late night acts, and his super sperm.  

Actually, I did more than start talking.  I carried the conversation on for quite some time.  Many appreciated it.  Some did not.

I expected that.

I've never been one to shy away from a topic.  That's why, when I started thinking about Wonder Woman, I decided that she might well follow suit.  

In the comic book years, Wonder Woman was one of the hottest heroines gracing the pages of monthly publications.  Her battles with her golden lasso (which could make anyone her slave) and her invisible robot plane were epics.

But, they did start thoughts brewing that never entered my head as a child.  

Never would have guessed that, would you?

What would you do if all you had to do would be to lasso someone and get them to do your bidding?  Would you lasso:

1. a porn star and have passionate lovemaking episodes and instructional education sessions?
2. a political figure and have them use their leverage to vote the way you wanted in Congress?
3. a record company CEO and force them to produce some decent music for a change?
4. a banker and have them transfer funds from a major business into a cash deposit to your account?
5. a McDonald's cashier and try to teach them not only how to count change, but to have some manners?
6. a Walmart employee and see just how low the IQ really is?
7. a school bus driver and force them to make the kids walk faster than .000045 mph when loading and unloading?
8. a rap star and find out if they really talk that way, or if they're just ignorant?
9. a TV infomercial salesperson and force them to use whatever product they're pushing?
10. a Taco Bell supplier to see just how bad the quality of meat is used in their beef burritos and tacos?

And, when I started debating about why a person would ever want an invisible plane, it suddenly hit me that Wonder Woman came from the land of Amazons.

(No, not those folks working in distribution centers for $12 an hour gathering up your mass quantities of batteries for muscle relaxers and weight reduction devices, but real Amazons!)

Original TV Wonder Woman
Linda Carter
(Photo Public Domain)

Being from the land of only women, there would be no need for the mile high club membership.  Or, would there?  

And, going to the bathroom would definitely be something to remember.  Sitting there, People Magazine in hand, enjoying the warmth of a noonday sun, all the while searching for the invisible toilet paper in desperation.  And, since the plane and toilet would be invisible, what about the waste product?  If another plane came by later, would the radio waves be filled with reports of Wonder Woman being chased by a pile of ... well, you know.  No need to be any more graphic.  

"This is Flight 583, Dallas to Chicago, to the tower.  Hey, did you guys just see what I saw!  There was this great looking babe, flying through the air like she was sitting down, and about twenty feet behind her was this enormous pile of brown ... well brown matter chasing her!  It didn't seem to be gaining, but it was staying right on her ass!"

I guess she could use her bracelets to deflect it.  No, that's a visual I'm going to forget.

Okay, it's FTSF again.  Time to finish the statement provided by the hostesses:

This week's partial sentence (prompt) is:  "I tried to cook...."

I wonder if Wonder Woman cooked, or if she just ate out all the time.  I remember she sometimes went on dates with her military boyfriend, but I don't ever remember her eating anything.  Of course, if she never ate anything, that would take care of the bathroom problem on the invisible plane.  Nothing in ... Nothing out!

Anyway, let's get to finishing the sentence.  I'm afraid if I don't, I'll get kicked out of this blog hop.  

I really look nothing like this.

Or, would I be hopped out of the hop?  

If Wonder Woman saw me hopping, would she say, "Look at that guy hopping."  

Or, would she, being older now and probably needing glasses, say, "Yep, it's almost Easter.  There goes Peter Cottontail ... hopping down the bunny trail ... hippity hoppity Easter's on its way!"

I wonder if Wonder Woman eats Easter eggs?

Enough procrastinating.  Let's finish the sentence!

"I tried to cook from the time I left home and found that it wasn't too difficult!"

What?  Not too difficult!  What type of an ass is this guy?

Actually, it was a matter of survival.  I found out quickly that if the money wasn't there, you had to pay attention to what you were cooking or you were going to eat some really lousy food!  And, since I loved food, it only made sense to do my best to make it taste halfway decent!

Besides barbecuing, my first real attempt at cooking came when I left home and got my own apartment right after high school.  I still remember ... it was Lasagna Hamburger Helper.

Perhaps, having a mother that was a tremendous Italian cook helped me out somewhat.  I'd spent a lot of time with her in the kitchen while growing up.  I still remember eating breakfast while watching her cooking treats such a Veal or Eggplant Parmigiana, huge homemade meatballs and spaghetti sauce for the evening's dinner plate.  


There wasn't anything she couldn't cook.  I'm still hoping to get my hands on her cookbook one day, but for now, my father won't let it out of his possession.  

Anyway, the Lasagna Hamburger Helper came out well.  I ate half of it, and put the pan in the fridge with the rest for the next night.  When the time came, I added a little water, warmed it back up, and enjoyed.

At one time this was "Yum Yum."
My, how times change!

Cooking was never a problem.  It was doing the dishes that came difficult.  

I knew that the leftovers would come out of the pan a little easier if I soaked it.  So, I put some soap liquid in the sink half filled with water, and stuck the pan in.  

That was the plan for over two weeks.  It was then that I had added enough water and soap to have filled up the sink ... oh, and the pans from other meals were just added to the first.

I had good intentions.  I just hated the thought of doing dishes.

Now Marge was a Godsend.   Who was Marge?  Well, she was probably as close to a soul mate as I could've had.  She was absolutely gorgeous in all aspects and had a brain that would put most to shame.  (I guess opposites do attract, lol)  In high school, even though she was a couple of years younger than I, she stood out among those that didn't care about popularity as most did.  She was going to do "her" thing no matter. 

After breaking up with a girl I'd been engaged to marry, I'd decided to give her a call.  She told me later that she'd freaked when I called, as I had been one of the "popular crowd" in high school.  Funny, I'd never even looked at it that way.  I just thought it was the right thing to do to know and talk to everyone, regardless of cliques.

So, Marge decided that for our second date, she was going to fix me a home cooked meal ... at my apartment!  I picked her up, helped load up the bags of food she'd purchased, and drove to my place.  I must admit, there was several types of cooking I was envisioning for the evening's activities.

How did they ever get a picture of my sink in 1973?

Upon opening the door, Marge's face suddenly twisted up.  

"What's that smell?"

I responded with a simple, "What smell?"

She walked over to the sink, used a fork to stir things around, and asked me how long the dishes had been soaking there.

"Only a week or two" was my innocent response.

That was when Marge became the woman of my dreams.

Into the murky depths, she plunged her hand, pulled out the drain plug, and emptied the sink of the water I had shied away from.  She stacked all the dirty dishes on the counter, cleaned the sink with Ajax cleanser, and then proceeded to do my two weeks worth of dishes.

"OMG ... IT'S WONDER WOMAN!!!!!!"

So, her selection wasn't quite
as expected ... she was still hot!

Actually, she looked a lot like her in all regards.  I know it sounds really sexist, but she really looked hot doing those dishes.  

God, I'm starting to sound like Al Bundy!

So ... what did she cook for her home cooked meal?

Beef Stroganoff Hamburger Helper!

And, she actually cooked it too long as it was somewhat dry.  Oh well, she looked good doing it.

Just in case you're wondering, we didn't do anything that evening except for some heavy petting.  Even after inhaling some of the natural herb of the time, she didn't sway from her decision.  Nor, in the months to follow did we do anything besides more of the same.  

Marge was of the belief she was going to save herself for her husband.  Back in the early 70's, some maintained that belief.  Even amidst the era of "free love", there were those with some morals.  This was unfortunate for teenage boys, but accepted if you liked the girl enough.

A few years later, after I had served my country in the military, I returned to find Marge still waiting.  She had truly waited.  It was a tremendous homecoming.

I didn't even need a sink of dirty dishes!

Unfortunately, her and I were like train tracks ... we belonged together, loved being connected side by side, but the times never let us come together to become a "church" married couple.  There always seemed to be complications that kept us apart.  Finally, I took  a job in radio that was 600 miles away ... and she couldn't work things out to move with me.  We were over.

My current wife (and Wonder Woman) of 33 years knows all about her.  I've been honest with her as Marge will always hold a piece of my heart.  I haven't seen her in over 35 years, but I still remember her with the same love I felt all those years ago.

It took one hell of a woman to pull that drain plug the first night.  I hope her husband, whoever he may be, appreciates her the way she deserves.

I know I still do.

Gabriela Speaks: The Last Goodbye

I'm heartbroken!

(*You can start the video at the bottom 

so it plays while you read if you'd like)

This is the end,

Beautiful friend.

This is the end,

My only friend, the end.

Of elaborate plans, the end,

Of everything that stands, 

the end.

No safety or surprise, the end,

I'll never look into your eyes ... again.

In 1969, Jim Morrison of the Doors sang this tune during one of my early lives.  It was haunting then, and still leaves a defined impression of emptiness and sorrow.

It is exactly what 

I'm feeling inside.

Rich has pulled the plug.  He's beginning to sound like a television executive saying, "When the ratings are low, the showcase must go!"

(sob, sob)  The ratings were low, and so I must go.

No, he's not making me leave the family.  At least, not for the present.  I think he loves me ... but I'm too hurt to see it much right now.  In fact, while chasing my tail the other night, I thought, "If I could swallow this thing, I could eat myself and disappear!"

It didn't work.  I'm still here, suffering deep inside.  Damn!  There's times I really hate being a woman ... even if I am a cat!

I know I got carried away a little in the beginning and touched a sore spot in some of the mommies.  (I think it was the "P.O.P. thing,") I went over that line that Rich says is the difference between crudeness and good taste.  

How the hell was I to know where it was?  He never showed me the road map!

I'm so sad.
I'm so depressed.
My kids are gone.  My blog is gone.
Just let me lay on the cold tile floor and die!
At least until dinner time!

Rich says he's got something else planned for Monday mornings that will bring in more views and followers.  He also says that he might bring me back from time to time as a guest poster.  Rich says a lot of things.  I haven't seen an invitation as of yet for any further chances to talk to my lady friends!  What does that tell you?

Some of you have been so sweet.  And, some of you have even invited me to meet your kitties, or to come live with you.  Believe me, I've been considering the offers!  He's really ticked me off by cancelling my ladder to fame!

And, would you believe that not even me barging into the bathroom and badgering him 

every morning has changed his mind!

But, let me say this.  I know Rich really loves me deep down.  Seriously, even though he's being a pain in the butt about this whole thing, he cares about me.  He feeds me regularly, pets me whenever I wish, brushes my fur at least once a week, and talks to me like no one ever has before.  He even stops his typing at times to pet me when I climb up on the arm of the love seat and lie down.  I've never had anyone stop doing anything to give me love and attention before!

He's just really being an ass about this!

It's no good, Faletame!
I'm depressed ... it's a woman thing.
You just wouldn't understand.  

So, anyway, I'm being given a chance to tell each of you how much I've appreciated you coming to my Monday morning blog sessions.  I know each of you so well now, I almost feel like you'd run to the store and buy me some Little Friskies if I asked you!  I'm so touched.   Oh no, I'm almost starting to cry again!

To all my friends, I hope you'll pester Rich in the future so we can once again be together.  Remember, I'm going to miss all of you, but will forever hold each of you and your families in my heart  (which Rich says doesn't exist most of the time).  Oh oh, here come the tears.  I've got to go!

Luv Y'all! Take Care!

It hurts to set you free,

But you'll never follow me.

The end of laughter and soft lies,

The end of nights we tried to die.

This is the end.

  

Give this a listen for a real mood swing.

The Doors

"The End"

Guilty As Charged!

I've been a bad boy!

For the few of you that emailed me and asked if I was "okay" this week, I answer you now,  "Yes, I've been very busy, but I am doing fine."

In the kingdom of Blogdom, one might even say, "I've been a bad boy!"

Yes, I'm guilty!  I admit it!  I took a week off!  

I only assisted Gabriela last Sunday to get her Monday post out (which, by the way, will probably be her last), and I took a week to concentrate on business (real life stuff).  

I didn't write and I didn't read.  I'm a terrible person and will be damned forever because of this.

Actually, I can think of many more reasons why that might happen besides this one, but it sounds good here, "So what the hell?"

There are times in a person's life that they need to step back and observe.  Not just the world around them, but the internal and external world they're forcing themselves to reside within.  

You may ask, "OMG, is Rich starting to get into a deep conversation or just spouting superfluous crap?" 

I know what you'd expect from me.  But, what if I did get serious and philosophical?  Would it shock you?  

If it did occur, would all the bloggers in Blogdom find themselves in lost in a lost world without toilet tissue in time of need?   Or, would this just become another blog that is read by some, scanned by others, and ignored by many?

Probably just ignored by many.

Still, shouldn't we ask ourselves, "Is what I'm blogging relevant to anything, or is it just putting words down on the screen to fill an obligation to those that have chosen to follow?"  

Does it really matter?

However, if irrelevant, does the reader recognize the El Toro defecation it's meant to be, or, are they lingering on every world, analyzing and envisioning this creature of the absurd to be real?

I know ... you’re beginning to consider to scan by now.

Is this blog one of an imaginary intellectual being that has created an imaginary world through dictionary and Thesaurus search and selection?  

And, how many synonyms to "bullshit" actually do exist?

Why do we write?   Is entertainment, instructional, or drama the culprit that sends us down the stairwell of words into the guise of one who determines the life and death of their own  creation?  In other words, if we make a decision to begin something, isn’t it also allowable to change one’s mind in mid-stream and go another direction?  Or, would that be to much of a shock for the reader, whose expectations rely on common routes of travel?

"Let's see ... go up six blocks, take a right at the bakery, go another four blocks ..."

When does the character start or stop being reality?  Does the role we accept in Blogdom affect us in our daily lives?  Is there an obligation to always look at life in a certain manner in order to come up with the next installment?  When does Harry Potter stop becoming Harry Potter?  Must we perform in the nude to shed the image?  

For most of us, let's hope not.  

I, too, have a mirror!

But, if the role does affect us in our daily activities, are we losing out on observing what is really happening by limiting our field of vision?  When do we acknowledge we have blinders on? And, when does the need to shed them in order for deeper growth to continue take place?  Or, are we seeing the world as it truly is, unlike others that run through life so self absorbed that they fail to notice the ironies and false facades of those that govern, pretend to care, and pick their noses in private at those that offer support?

Of course, picking one's nose is justifiable in private, but not in public, 

or in a moving vehicle, regardless of how invisible you really think you are.  

So is burping, releasing gas, and peeing in the shower, 

as long as you don't tell people about it.  

So, I have supplied your head with questions that only you can answer.  Take your time.  It isn’t something that has to be done immediately.  In fact, if I were you, I would first ask myself, “Do any of these really apply to me?”  

If so, then you must decide on a course of action to lead you to the answer your heart desires to uncover.

If they don’t apply, then, don’t bother with them.  Just sit back, relax, and admit to yourself that this was sincerely one hell of a way to get your mind off the fact that I haven’t blogged or visited blogs in a week.  

My apologies.  

Guilty as charged.

Would it help if I said, “I’m sorry?”

Oh well, I tried.