September 18 2017

Why does this site exist…

Have you ever wanted a place to drop your thoughts, those that are too private or politically incorrect for work, those that are too perverse or lengthy for Facebook?  This is my place for that.

In the posts below you will find bits taken from my life, chewed up, analyzed and written here so that I can move on.  I have always benefited from the catharsis of writing.  The more troubled or crazed my life becomes, the more I feel the pull to write.

You may enjoy them, you may not.  Regardless, I hope you find them interesting.

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September 22 2017

Not Knowing

Her mind is hard, her thoughts are thin
Each day she’s a bit more lost
Simple recall, a happy win
Tries hard, but wires are crossed

Her loving heart’s what pulled me near
So many years ago
Now her love’s given way to fear
She’s lost her happy glow

She grew up poor, hard working life
Long hours and family too
A loving mother and a wife
Her only thoughts for you

Her kids have grown and moved away
Caregivers now by her side
Nothing for granted, not one day
Her family filled with pride

Some days she fades into the night
Some times she sleeps all day
They fight to keep her body right
She’s treated in a loving way

Her mind is hard, her thoughts are thin
Each day she’s a bit more lost
Simple recall, a happy win
Tries hard, but wires are crossed

September 22 2017

Registering a Boat – Ridiculous

The process to register a used boat in Arkansas borders on the ridiculous. We paid $50 hard currency to the state to get through the process. The cost to process the transaction on their side was about $23 assuming the clerk taking half an hour with our transaction made $40,000 per year. The cost to me, assuming I make $250 an hour (which is about the rate of a cheap hooker), cost me $625 since it was a two and a half hour ordeal.

That makes the total net cost to register a 1999 boat equal to $598. That is STUPID my friends. And what did they get from all that? They now have a file that says the clerk looked at the bill of sale, the old title,  proof of insurance, and a photo of the hull identification number. It screams to be modernized and automated. There are several glaring problems.

  • They have ancient computers that are not connected to the databases they need.
  • They walk back and forth across the office gathering this print out, that form, or other materials.
  • The need better software programs designed to be smarter at filling in forms.
  • They need to push it out so citizens do the work online and charge more for those who walk in for “special service” by the clerks.

It reminds me of stories from my friends in third world countries who told me that you had to take a day off to register your TVs. I think it is time to write the elected reprentatives and the appointed bureaucrats. Hated it!

September 20 2017

Nice Kitty

Jake sat in his pajama bottoms staring into the coffee cup on the kitchen table. The steaming coffee smelled good, but he left it alone. He knew he’d puke at the first swallow. Why in the hell had he insisted on all those tequila shots? His head pounded.

Jake’s cat Motor pawed at his pajama leg. “Knock it off Motor,” Jake said and flicked his foot towards the cat. Motor dodged the brushoff with ease. Unfazed, he jumped onto the table, and claimed squatter’s rights on the newspaper in front of Jake. Motor locked eyes with Jake.

Jake didn’t even notice. He put his head in his hands. He was thinking about going back to bed when he heard a thin nasally voice say, “Snap out of it you twit!”

“What the fuck?” Jake asked, lifting his head. He looked at Motor.

“You heard me twit, Snap out of it.”

Jake stared at the cat with his mouth open. He couldn’t believe what he’d just seen and heard. By all counts it seemed like Motor had spoken. His mouth moved and even matched the words. That’s nuts, cats don’t talk, Jake thought. He looked around the room to see who was punking him. The room was empty except for and Motor and Jake.

“Don’t pretend you can’t hear me Jake. You know we’re alone, at least that is if you don’t count that blonde bimbo in the bedroom. And after all the booze and “gymnastics” last night, I imagine she’ll be sleeping it off for a while. That just leaves the two of us. Face it dude, I AM talking and you CAN hear me,” Motor said.

Jake struggled to think through the post-alcohol fuzz. “If you can talk, then why in the hell haven’t you done it until now? We’ve been together forever for god’s sake. Why now?” Jake asked.

“Let me break it down for you Jakey. It’s all about reincarnation my human friend… past lives and all. That shit’s real. I’m proof. I haven’t always been a cat you know. Mind you the cat thing hasn’t been so bad, I mean you can lick your balls for god’s sake. And jump? You wouldn’t believe what that feels like… but I digress. I was a human before, and I want to go back. Correct that, I AM going back,” Motor said.

“What makes you so certain?” Jake asked.

“Once you’ve been through the process, you get to know how it works. There are only two rules; first, you have to spend at least five years in your new body, that is unless you’re dying, which lets you out of that one. Check that one off Jakey, I just celebrated my fifth birthday. And second, you need to knock off two to get one fresh body to move into. The universe loses two, you get to take one, so to speak. We need to talk about that one Jakey,” Motor said. His eyes again locked on Jake, unmoving except for the pupils that were dilating in and out. Motor shifted his weight from one foot to the other and then became still.

Jake was about to speak when Motor lunged. He was no match for the cat’s reflexes. Motor was on Jake’s neck before he could even flinch, claws sunk deep, teeth searching for Jake’s jugular. Motor’s head twisted from side to side as blood spurted from Jake’s neck. Jake panicked. He grabbed at Motor’s body to pull the cat from his neck, but only managed to sink the claws deeper into his own flesh. Jake was bleeding out. He could feel it. His knees buckled and he fell to the ground.

Jake’s left leg twitched as the last of his life’s breath whispered out of his body. Blood formed a spreading pool from the puncture marks in his neck. Motor stepped back, and looked toward the bedroom. He could hear nothing from the blonde. Clearly the tough night of tequila fueled sex had left her oblivious to “the dance” that had just played out between him and Jake.

Motor walked towards the bedroom, instinctively flicking his paws with each step, trying to shake off the blood he’d picked up from the dark pool next to Jake’s body. With each step he left a tiny cat print in the tan carpet. By the time he reached Jake’s bed he looked like he was wearing red socks with white bottoms.

He paused, senses in full hunter mode, taking in the room. Nothing but the blonde, who had now begun to snore, still very much asleep. Motor leapt onto the foot of the bed. He paused again to check for movement. Nothing. All good. He crept towards the blonde’s head with all of his cat-senses on high alert.

Motor was on her with one short pounce, his mouth latched to hers, claws sunk deep into her cheeks. He was in this for keeps. The blonde jolted awake, startled and confused. Both of her hands clawed instinctively at Motor’s fur trying to free him from her face. She wanted to breathe… bad. No luck.

Motor sucked hard trying to pull in the energy that made her soul. He could feel the blonde’s life force leaving her and entering his body. Her eyes widened as she realized just how oh-shit bad this was. It dawned on her that if she didn’t double down and overpower the cat, her life would be over. She sucked harder, pulling against the cat’s force.

Just as she reached the tipping point of death, Motor relaxed, letting the energy flow reverse. As he did, he could feel it flowing out past his lips in a tangible stream back into her body. The taste of the stream began to change from citrus to a metallic taste as Motor forced his energy into the stream. Now the stream was all his as it flowed back into the blonde, filling her body and into her soul.

The blonde’s eyes bulged, her body tensing at the sudden pulse of energy. There was an electric snap as the connection broke between Motor and the blonde. The cat’s body went limp and fell lifeless to the sheets next to the blonde. The blonde gasped, her chest heaving as she coughed, struggling to breathe. The next breath was deep and welcome. She felt good.

Her body visibly relaxed with each breath. She smiled ever so slightly as she swung her legs over the side of the bed and hurried to the bathroom mirror. Once there, she cupped her breasts, admired her newfound body. “Oh my blonde friend, thank you for this wonderful body. I promise I will use it the fullest,” Motor said and laughed.

Life is good, Motor thought. Now to make the most of it. He walked over to the chair by the bed where he’d seen the blonde’s clothes. “It looks like I’m going to be doing the walk of shame this morning,” Motor said as he picked up the silky little black dress. He pulled the dress over his head and tugged it down but it still barely covered his cheeks. He slipped on the black heels and reached for the small black purse on the floor near the chair. “Now, let’s find out where I live,” he said, opening the purse for the cell phone. The screen powered up with a touch and no security code. Lucky me, he thought. Checking the phone, he found two messages, from ‘Sis’, both left last night.

He pressed to hear the first message and put it on speaker. “Hi Brenda, this is your sister. I talked to Mom just now. She said she’d promised you she wouldn’t tell me, but she just had to. She said she couldn’t keep something like this from me. Why didn’t you tell me Brenda?” She sniffed. “I want to be there for you. Call me back. Okay?”

Wonder what that’s all about, he thought and pressed to hear the second message. “Brenda, why aren’t you calling back? I didn’t want to do this on the phone, but Mom told me about the cancer.” Sis was crying in full-blown sobs now. “I know how bad it is. At a time like this, you need to be with family. Mom said Dr. Raj told her it was a matter of hours or perhaps a few days, but no more. I want to see you now! Please call me Brenda. It can’t end like this,” and the call went silent.

Motor’s stomach turned over forming a knot. His head throbbed behind his eyeballs. Had that been there before and he hadn’t noticed with all the adrenaline? “Just my luck. All I wanted was a hot chick for a shot at my next life and I end up in a walking time bomb and a short fuse,” he said. Time’s a wasting bucko, you know what you have to do, he thought, and headed for the door.

September 19 2017

Tribute to My Father


As the oldest boy
Life started out hard
No money, no toys
Life dealt him bad cards

Big family, rented land
Too many, too poor
Grew their food by hand
Their mother the core

Meal times the toughest
Eight children, all small
Hunger the roughest
Potatoes, that’s all?

His own Dad beat him
It seems out of spite
A belt to his limbs
Best safe out of sight

They sent him away
With an uncle to work
For free meals, no pay
He learned not to shirk

Rage became power
He relished its feel
Though turning him sour
As part of the deal

Years passed and he aged
But still coped this way
Powerful, enraged
Thought he was okay

Now bent and older
His wife in the ground
Passion’s grown colder
Few friends to be found

Aware now, awakened
Just what had he lost?
Faith in rage shaken
He counted the cost

The anger he’d used
And nourished so well
Entrenched and infused
He’d made his own Hell

There isn’t a rewind
There’s no second chance
To undo the time,
Add love and romance

His future was cast
He’s lived out life’s plan
Forgive him his past
And just love the man.

September 17 2017

Blackbirds Awakened (a poem of 9/11)

Blackbirds Awakened

Blackbirds awakened, emerge from the night
Blue skies, soaring, sweet morning light
Winds bearing change, rise with the sun
City unlimbered, business begun

One man early, another late
God, good karma, or perhaps just fate
One man desperate, the other blind
The first with rage filling his mind

A message sent on silver wings
“We who have nothing despise your things”
“And we will die to destroy your ways”
The message arrives in a fiery blaze

Hearts blacken from the damage done
Dark clouds rising, but they have not won
Eyes open now, looking for spite
The awakened giant, yearning to fight

Hate matches hate, on the same plain
Both seeking solace from death’s cold rain
Battles rage on, innocence lost
Revenge is taken, but freedoms lost

May 21 2016

Humans abhor inertia

Bernie Trump

We live in in interesting times. I find myself trying to understand why we Americans are so polarized. I believe it is the result of a few factors coming together at the same time, driving our “human tribes” to react in more extreme ways.


Our news media and our politicians are continually reinforcing that things are bad. The economy is bad. Immigrants are bad. Muslims are bad. Threats against you are so bad, that in fact you’d better carry a gun to protect yourself.

This message is being heard. When polled, most people confirm they believe the American economy is worse off in general, America is more at risk from terrorists, and they are less certain about a good future for everyone in America general. However, when asked about their own situation, their standard of living, their feeling of security in their homes, etc., they respond that things in their personal world are pretty good. It is all of that danger outside their space that has them concerned.

In an environment like this, our political system would normally provide an outlet. At least it has historically. Democrats and Republicans, the House and the Senate, and the President have found ways to overcome differences and move forward. Compromise was not a dirty word. It is now. Compromise will get you defeated in the polls, and where there is no compromise, there is gridlock. Where there is gridlock there is inertia. Inertia in politics creates a leadership vacuum. When you add the general intangible pervasive fear that is being spread, people want a LEADER.

The more radically right or left the leader appears, the greater the hope people place in that person to lead them away from that which they fear. They want someone to do something. They are mad. They look at one candidate or another, and say, “Finally, this person is thinking the same things I am and I think he can make a difference.”

I personally don’t buy it. None of the candidates have the leadership qualities or the ideology that can take this country forward in a meaningful way. While they appeal to the populist masses, they will do irreversible harm to our nation, both at home and on the world stage. About all I can hope for out of this coming election is more gridlock. At least that will buy for more years of my personal welfare before some nut-job takes us off the rails.

March 4 2013

Pinch Me

beautiful_breastThis was one of those dreams I woke from and instantly wished I could go back to sleep, reset, and start the dream where it left off. I was meeting with a woman in the office who had always been flirty, but prim and proper.  Never a hint at potential beyond flirts. Well this morning was different.  As she leaned across the desk to highlight the bullet point on the PowerPoint, her blouse draped down, showing a soft pink lace bra. My eyes went to her breasts like magnets.  I could not have skipped the breast-glance regardless the consequences. Continue reading

March 1 2013

Perfect laptop

I just bought a Chromebook.  It was cheap, sort of an experiment in PC toys.  It was the Samsung 306C.  I like it a lot except there are problems connecting to Citrix and it doesn’t have an app from GOOD, both of which are used by my company.  So I can’t use it for email at work, so it is pretty much a net-based toy. Continue reading

October 25 2011


 We’ve all had those days.  The boss turns into a nasty, whiny, self absorbed, diva bitch.  My luck, I occasionally have two.  Tell me what happens to the seemingly normal people when they get promoted, started making oodles of money, and sit on Executive Row.  From what I’ve seen, it doesn’t matter the moral backbone, or the humble nature of their personalities, but as soon as they get the positions, they turn to full blown Divas.

My recent experience about put me over the edge.  Had it not been for a very kind colleague who talked me off the ledge, I may have gone psycho on one of them.  You see, I had arranged a conference at an airport hotel.  I have had quite a few meetings at that particular hotel so they know me rather well.  When our group checked in, several of us (lower level peons) were given room upgrades. Continue reading