Burned Toast and Coffee

honesty

2015-02-25T12:39:00.000-08:00

If anything comes in 50 shades of gray...

...it's honesty...

...from the little white lie your child tells you ...no mom I didn't eat that cookie...to the lie from the murderer...not me, I was in New York City when that dude got his throat cut...

How much does the honesty of others affect us personally?....

the little white lie by a child or a friend...disappoints us but it really doesn't affect us.

How a about a Prime time News Anchor...Brian Williams?...are his lies important?..
...I think so...he reports news...I like to believe that when someone reports the "news" it is actually based on facts. If reporters want to lie, then, write op-ed pieces or write a blog, but don't call it news.

So the Liberals believe...that Williams just made a "little white lie" in judgement, but they can't save him so they have gone after Bill O'Reilly on the reporting he did in the 80's about the Falkland Island wars and, also, about someone who commited suicide after the Kennedy assassination...

...David Corn and Daniel Schulman in "Mother Jones" claims O'Reilly wasn't truthful...wonder how long they have been sitting on that info in order to make a name...

...Mediamatters.com/blog claims that O'Reilly is under "heavy Criticism"...yeh...by the blue boys..

...Jon Stewart claims that "no one watches O'Reilly for the truth"...(I do)... and that William's lies were no big deal (a little BS is okay...they all do it)..we need to just move on...and then he goes on to make fun of "Watter's World" and his piece on global warming while reporting in the snow in Boston...

...I guess Stewart's jibes at the red side are really good humor but Watters' stuff isn't funny...maybe only the smurf people cna't see the humor (get it ...liberal...blue...Smurf)...sorry, I should have to explain, but even I have to say it was a mighty leap...

so...William's lies in current time are to be erased because someone claims that O'Reilly fudged on the truth over 30 years ago...that's an even mightier leap...

What about the V.A. Secretary's stretch of the truth. Robert McDonald told a homeless war vet that he had also been in the Special Forces but he wasn't....whoa...there's a whopper that will harm the world...

...take a gander at McDonald's military record...

...completed Army Ranger Training...took courses in jungle, artic and desert warfare...earned a Ranger Tab designating him as a graduate of Ranger School...but, he nevr served in a Ranger Battalion or any other special ops unit....

so his lie is....a small stretch of the truth which harmed no one...or it is the same as a national news anchorman lying about being shot down in a war zone...

...I'll let you decide that one...throw O'Reilly in there too...how serious is something that was reportd on 30 years ago and now someone wants to parse words and definitions with him...

...also, remember...O'Reilly's show is not prime time national news...he is not reporting on the news, he is doing a cable show...a good show...but, a show...and ...it is slanted towards the red hats...

The only thing I'm sure of...if you wear a blue hat...you get to say whatever you want and it's only a slip of the tongue...but, don't put on a red hat and have an opinion...wearing a red hat leads directly to lying...I learned that in Logic 101...in college...at Berkley...(now there's a lie...a big lie...I never went to Berkley..)...now if I ever get famous...those are words that will come back to haunt me...

//////

just saying...

another day of thoughts

2015-02-24T08:31:00.000-08:00

Al Capone's Car...supposedly used by President Roosevelt for transportation when responding to the Japaneses attack on Pearl harbor...

Not true for several reasons...pictures prove and logically saying the the government didn't have enough money to get a car that would sufficiently protect our president...hey...we were not a third world country then..maybe now, but not then...don believe the Capone car story going around the net...

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SAT scores...did you know

African Americans get 240 points added to their scores
Mexican Americans get 180 points added to their scores
Asians Americans get 40 points deducted from their scores

...first I must confess that the point amount may be off a few as I couldn't find that info on the web...but the points are close and the idea is there and it is true that Black Americans and Mexican Americans do get points added and Asian Americans get points deducted..

...second...who do we want running America?...the smartest?...or?...

I always thought that if someone was smarter than me I would hire that person to run my store..or work for that person because my chances of doing better would be....well I guess better.

...What is that principle...oh yes...The Peterson principle..."Eventually people get promoted beyond their ability to do the job"...

...so...if we start with someone who does not have the capability of managing their first job...my on my...what happens when they are moved further up the line?...

Maybe it would be better to educate all our young people and not have to pretend they are what they are not..what about it Washington?...can we put some of our wealth into the youth of America...All the youth of America...

///

on gay rights..

interesting story the other day...successful New York gay woman wants her 6 year old daughter to be gay also..

Why?...better opportunities...according to mom...

brings up two questions in my mind...

first - I thought that being gay wasn't a choice...well is it?...or isn't it?

second - I thought I heard gay people saying that they couldn't or wouldn't raise their children to be gay...well..do you?...or don't you?..

I guess this falls under the category of everyone wants their children to be like them...

nothing wrong with that...unless of course, your a straight person upset about a gay child...then you're prejudice and have no understanding...

Hey mom...how about letting her be what she wants to be...as it should be with all children...accept and learn something about loving your fellow human human beings...even your children...do not take the prejudice you were raised with into our new world....

/////

just saying

just thinking ... again

2015-02-22T09:59:00.000-08:00

Giuliani and the pres...

Giuliani said Wednesday that he did not believe President Obama “loves America.”

“He doesn’t love you. He doesn’t love me. He wasn’t brought up the way you were brought up and I was brought up: to love this country,” said Giuliani. (New York Post)

Whoa..did that cause a mess...now we can find our seats on the head of a pin and add another stupid argument to the agenda...less see ...

...What do we call the murdering bad guys in the middle east?

...Should Giuliani be tarred and feathered and run out of town on a rail for using his right of free speech and challenging the Obama's love of America...

A fire storm is raging...somebody criticized our president...bad...bad...bad

So...why not?..Why can't we criticize Obama...because he's black?...Bush II was severely criticized...he was fair game...say what you want...write what you want...fine..that's our right...but not with Obama...interesting...

I don't know whether Obama loves America but I do know he doesn't love the America that became the greatest nation to ever exist...that was evident from the beginning...he was going to change America...he did...he has made us weaker...poorer... more derisive...and less safe...

but, he claims the world is safer today than it has ever been...you look it up...you check on all the killing going on...I don't know about you, but I don't feel safer...

Speaking of being safe..the bad guys from the Middle East are calling for their brothers in mayhem and murder to attack the Malls of America...their modus operandi...kill innocent unarmed people...

My questions to the the Muslims of America...

How I do I know you're not one of the Bad Ass Baddadi boys or girls..how do I know the girl in the niqab at the mall is not hiding a suicide bomb...

How do I know that the Middle Eastern looking men entering the Mall are not going to use my life to earn their way in an after life that I do not understand...

Sorry if I have some questions...if I'm nervous...If I shy away from you...

But, I have two questions for Home Security...running out of money?..poetical issues?...

...1st - Why can't we back off on the illegal aliens in order to fight the Bad Ass Baddadi shit heads..
...2nd - Do we really have a threat against the Malls of America...or is this a trick to bring the republicans to their knees?...

Just thinking again...

idles thought

2015-02-20T08:50:00.001-08:00

Western Shootout..Las Vegas

Seems we are going back to taking the law into our own hands. One mom dies because she had to attempt her own form of justice...threaten me?...threaten my daughter?...well by god, my son has a gun and watch out because we're coming to get you...

mom dead....

young man in jail...probably life...

but, what the hell...I have my rights and I have the right to own a gun to protect myself....

what part of stupid am I looking at here?

Yes...we can all own guns...even the dumb...the bad...and the idiots..

//////

hint to protect your credit....get in touch with the 3 credit bureaus and have them put a credit hold on your SSN...will cost you a few bucks...Cal. the highest about 30.00 per bureau. Then if someone steals your identity he/she can't open up any more accounts or buy anything. You can always go back to the bureau and have your credit line reopened...

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thoughts from the liberal side...

"The Mobil refinery fire was set on purpose so they can justify raising gas prices."

"The train derailment and explosion in West Virginia was on planned to prove that we really need the pipeline."

I didn't say it..I don't believe it..but it's apparently what some folks think and believe....

//////

finally...we are going to get the nut cases in the middle east under control by giving them jobs...

okay...is that what the Wal-Mart announcement on new wages is all about?....

One must wonder if we have all the unemployment in America, especially in the big cities and in the black communities, why our government wouldn't do two things...

1st - create some jobs for our black youth...

2nd - kill the crazy bastards that are threatening us and they won't need jobs.

So the logic here is...run wild kill...rape...behead and you go to the head of the job line.

Thank God for Martin Luther King...if not for him we might have that very same thing going on right here in the dumb old USA...

Never have figured out how we have money for the rest of the world and none for our own...

Hey..it's from both sides of the fence...both the libs and conservs...it's all about them...nothing about you...you...you..

Maybe after we find jobs for the killers in the middle east someone will pay attention to the black youth right here in down town Chicago...Detroit...New York ...Philadelphia..Los Angeles...

Maybe not...we haven't for the last 200 years....why start now.

*******

the good...the bad...and the ugly

2015-02-19T05:38:00.000-08:00

the good...naturally our side
the bad...naturally ISIS and all who fight with them
the ugly...the president, the house, the senate, TV news, the talking heads - hell I could be here all night

Confusion reigns not only in my mind but I believe in every body's minds.

Is ISIS a radical Muslim group or just a radical group? That seems to be what the talking heads are arguing about and in the meantime, whoever the hell they are, they are storming through the middle east like Sherman marched through Georgia and General Patton marched through Europe.

We argue about what to call them and they lop off some more heads. Why can't we just agree that there the bad guys and paint black hats on their heads. After all, they do have the black flag to lead them while they kill anyone who doesn't believe as they do.

So, lets unite under a white flag and become the good guys and kick the hell out of them. The key word here is unite. But, they are there and were over here. It's not our war. Maybe, but we have the Mexican drug cartel cutting heads off all the time. Oh I know. That's Mexico and what the hell does that have to do with America. Again, it's not our fight.

I guess I'll have to wait until they get to Texas or Arizona with some kind of coalition between the bad guys before I see anyone become concerned. Well believe it or not, our leaders in Washington would have afternoon tea trying to figure out if Texas and Arizona were worth saving.

Maybe if they attacked the big rotten apple again that would wake someone up. It did once, but after Bush exacted what they figured was enough revenge we patted them on the butts and said naughty-naughty.

Supposedly the big hats at the Pentagon are saying we cannot defeat ISIS even if we use all our air power and send in ground troops. You have to wonder why. Is it in our rules of combat doctrine? Our troops have to carry cards that tell them when and who we can fight against. In the mean time his nibs, Abu Bakr alBaghdadi, just says kill every thing that walks...take no prisoners, unless it's someone he can put on TV and cut their heads off.

Now, since we can't beat them, the latest plan is to defeat them with jobs. I guess that's why there was all that hullabaloo about making McDonald's pay higher wages. Sure that should work. Hey Mr. Baghdadi, Sir, if you take your friends and go home we will get you all a job a McDonald's. Why the wages should be S18.00 per hour. Just think of all the Hookah you could buy with that and I'm sure Micky D's would throw in all the Big Macs you could eat...such a deal.

Why do I think Mr. Bad Ass Baddadi is laughing? If you don't, then I guess you've fallen for the BS flying around Washington.

By the time our leaders come to some kind of agreement whether Mr. Bad Ass Bad Daddy is a Muslim on a Holy war or just enjoys burning people to death of cutting their heads off, he will control all the Middle East and then watch out.

Songs of the dead

2015-02-16T06:27:00.000-08:00

I hear the voices of

the dead.

sing the songs of life.

Their songs of life

follow me.

I need to stop and listen.

Their songs are

in the breeze

that rustles the light of the stars

Their songs are

in the morning

when the sun says hello

Their songs are

the choruses of calm and peace

dancing in the meadows

I hear their songs

above the red rock canyons.

wafting in the wind.

Their songs

sing to me

through the hawks that soar above

their songs

sing to me

through the lizards that flit across the rocks

I walk through my life and

listen to their voices.

sing the songs of nature.

It is the force that creates my soul.

Without their voices

my soul would be lost.

inner structures

2013-05-25T22:06:00.000-07:00

The bridge that was knocked down in Washington by a truck carrying an over sized load has my mind spinning.

One side truss on the bridge was hit by the load causing one whole section of the bridge to collapse.
Apparently the driver did not ever realize that he had hit the truss until he noticed the bridge collapsing in his rear view mirror. That tells me that it wasn't a gigantic crash.

It seems as if the bridge was built more for an aesthetic view than for safety. It is really scary if one whole span of a bridge can collapse from one side truss being damaged or bent. It is similar, but of course on a much smaller scale, to the twin towers collapsing on 9/11.

I have often wondered why there wasn't much said about the structural collapse of those two buildings. It's as if no one was surprised that they were completely destroyed. I am not an engineer but I did work many years in the construction industry. I have walked among the steel girders covered with thick layers of fire retardant. I doubt very much that the Empire State Building would completely collapse if struck by airplanes in the same manner as the twin towers were.

My point is that we seem to build things without creating good foundations. I feel that is the same thing that happens in our personal lives and our political lives.

To many of us want to have the apple from the top of the tree without even growing the tree. We expect someone else to do the work and give us the apple. We feel we are entitled to the apple and I'm not sure why.

Maybe it's just because we are here. Look at me. Here I am ...feed me.

Please do not think I don't believe in charity and helping my fellow man because I do. But, what happens when there are more people looking for the hand out than there are hands to feed them? How many undocumented workers can we support before the system collapses?

Our constitution says that we have to educated them, feed them, care for them just because they are on our land. When do we stop? After all of Canada, all of Mexico, all of China, all of Europe...when?...what is that number?

I know they come here for work...for freedom and I cheer for them but, at one point...when to many come for us to support...when the boy takes his finger from the dam, they will flood us like the flood in the bible and there is not an ark big enough to help.

In order to support and help those in need we need to have a solid base. In order to have a solid base we need a strong economy. Strong economies are not built by people who won't work. Strong economies are not built by governments that that promise to feed the world with no food in their breadbasket.

Ripple

2012-06-09T09:24:00.000-07:00

Ripple, sure I know that word. It brings to mind a lot of fond memories. Some of my old childhood friends would say, “sure you know that word…you should…you sure as hell drank enough of it.”

But they would be wrong…not wrong about drinking the Ripple Wine but wrong about my having any fond memories of those Ripple Wine hangovers.

No, the fond memories are about my grandpa’s dog, Ripple. You might think that’s a strange name for a dog but ole Ripple came by it naturally. You see, in those days, my folks and I’m sure most of the folks around that part of the country didn't name their dogs until the dogs earned their right to be named.

Folks figured there was no use in naming a dog until it really belonged to the name it was given. The other thing about dogs in those days was they had to be worth their keep. If they weren't worth their feed…well, folks just took them out back and…bang.

I know you’re wondering what you would call a dog if you didn't give it a name. For the first two years of Ripple’s life my grandpa just called him “Hey”. Some people had a habit of whistling for their dogs but my grandpa was happy just shouting “Hey” and then that ole black Lab would be right by his side.

Every time I went to visit my grandpa I would worry that “Hey” would not be around anymore but he always passed the tests that grandpa laid before him. He learned real fast not to bother the chickens and that his place was outside. My grandpa would not allow a dog in the house. If they needed a place to sleep inside they could use the barn.

By the time that “Hey” turned two he was becoming a pretty good hunting dog. He could find the birds and most times never broke his point. He never shied from the blast of a shotgun and he never took out after the birds until my grandpa said go.

While he was straining to get going after the birds he would stand with all four feet spread wide apart and shake but as his back muscles really began to develop he stopped shaking and started rippling. Yes, that’s what I said, he started rippling. His ripples looked just like the ripples in pond made by skipping stones.

The ripples would start at his butt and work all the way up to his neck. His head never moved or quivered at all. He kept his eyes on exactly where he had seen the prey go down. When the ripples finally reached his neck they would begin all over again.

At first the ripples would move kind of slow but the longer my grandpa made him wait the faster the ripples went so naturally, grandpa began calling him Ripple.

Ripple learned how to find and point out quail and pheasants with the best of the dogs. In fact he became a real good hunting dog. He would set his point and not move until commanded to do so. He would go into a perfect set with his head craned sort of away from his body, his left front foot would come up with his leg bent, his whole body leaned forward and his tail would get stiff as a board and point directly backwards.

But then his rippling would start and get faster and faster until he was released to flush the bird. Well this rippling never bothered my grandpa. He was sure it made ole Ripple just a cut above the other dogs so he decided to enter him in the county fair
.

Grandpa bragged all over the county about how he had the best hunting dog in the state, of course when someone says that he has the best or is the best there is always someone that will disagree.

In my grandpa’s case, it was his cousin Arlo. Arlo personally knew of at least three dogs that were better and he bragged that he should know something about dogs because he was the judge at the county fair.

Naturally, grandpa had to enter Ripple in the competition that summer and, so the story goes, the judge, Cousin Arlo, disqualified Ripple because he moved when he was setting in his point. My grandpa argued that he wasn't moving. He argue that it was a ripple in his skin but Arlo wouldn't budge. Ripple was disqualified.

Grandpa appealed to organizers of the fair and cousin Arlo was disqualified as a judge because of the family ties. Grandpa strutted around the fairgrounds like a bandy rooster around a bunch of hens. He hee-hawed poor Arlo like he was a Jackass entered in the fair.

No, Ripple didn't win a prize. Grandpa removed him from the competition. He said that getting the best of his cousin Arlo gave him enough bragging rights for a whole year.

The Homeless

2012-04-09T09:34:00.003-07:00

I don't have the answers

I have been doing a personal investigation of the homeless for a year. When I started I had a dream that I could make a difference.

However, making a difference in the world of the homeless is not as easy as I naively thought.

I started by dressing like a homeless person and begging on street corners. I quickly learned I could make I made a few bucks but begging for money is not easy (at least in my case) and it is dangerous. I didn’t last long and really didn’t learn anything about the homeless or the homeless problem.

I decided that interviewing the homeless was a better avenue to solving their and society’s problems. I have no idea why I thought the interview idea was a good one. I guess it is simply that I am not only naïve, I am stupid.

I have attempted to interview homeless people for a year with few results. I have found that as long as the questions are about solving the problems of their world, their ideas flow like a flash flood. Most of them have some kind of solution and most of the solutions are based on additional help of some sort. However, if the questions were personal (name, age, where do you come from or the reason you are homeless) they immediately became suspicious and clammed up.

Most told me they would work if jobs were available and I truly think they were telling me the truth. However, I have personally hired a few at my company and found that the few I hired didn’t really know how to work, didn't care how good their work was, expected salaries or wages way higher than I would pay my own employees or they were scam artists

The bottom line is that the few times I have tried to help have, in one way or another, ended up in small disappointments for me.

****

next - who and what really helps....if anything?...

I cry

2012-03-30T15:06:00.000-07:00

I breathe

breath won't come

my head spins

vision is blurred

I cry for what

I do not know

I cry

for me

wonder

2012-03-25T22:32:00.002-07:00

I talked to the wind

I listened

It whistled
it blew

it pushed

it said

not a word

so I tried

the sun

the sea

the sky

Like the wind

They won’t talk

At least to me

My wife says

they talk to her

I went back

and tried again

And still

they ignor me

I wonder

equinox

2012-03-22T14:18:00.001-07:00

the equinox has come

or is it the equilux

some say the time has shifted

but does time really shift

the sun comes

and goes

but does time shift

the rising and the setting

equalize

the time from one to the other

nears twelve but never gets there

is that the way we are

do we try to equalize

and then fall short

only to start drifting

back to where we started

never to really

let our dreams mature

What do I Know

2012-03-19T22:12:00.009-07:00

What do I know?
The legend of Mt. Timpanogos

I grew up in central Utah in the valleys and foothills below Mt. Timpanogos. When I was growing up, Mt. Timpanogos was reported to be 12,008 feet high, the highest mountain in the Wasatch Range of Utah.

I climbed the mountain 5 times between the age of 12 and 17. Climbing Mt. Timpanogos was not like the pictures you see of people climbing the world’s highest mountains. It was merely a hike up a steep trail that began more than half way up the mountain but at that time my friends and I did not know the difference. We thought that we were real mountain climbers.

The trail zigzagged up the mountain until it arrived at a glacier. The top of the glacier was the first crest of the mountain top. The glacier was climbed the same way we climbed the mountain. Once the top of the glacier had been reached it was an easy hike along the crest of the mountain to the summit. Someone had built a small metal canopy hut and the organizers of the “Timp Hike” were there waiting to congratulate you and give you a small round button pin that proved you had reached the summit.

I was proud to have climbed Utah’s highest mountain and Utah’s only glacier. It was something to brag about. I knew that I could conquer mountains and glaciers. The world was mine. Nothing could hold me back. Those feelings were great and I love to recall them even though it is obvious that I was not a conqueror of mountains and glaciers. I was merely a boy meeting the local challenges of growing up.

I also grew up with stories about the Indian Maiden that slept on the top of the mountain. If you look close and someone points out the bumps and curves, the top of Mt. Timpanogos has the shape of a woman. There were stories of Indian legends about an Indian maiden with a broken heart jumping off of a cliff and the gods causing the earth to rise and create the mountain in her honor.

I didn’t believe the story but I did believe that it was an Indian folk tale.

My first disappointment or ego busting experience came a few years after the last time I climbed the mountain. Someone recalculated the elevation and discovered that the mountain was really only 11,988 feet high. It really wasn't a big deal but somehow I felt cheated. However, Mt Timpanogos was still the highest mountain in Utah so my accomplishment was only diminished by a few feet.

My second disappointment came when I found out the legend of the Indian maiden was made up by a college professor that wanted to romanticize the mountain and the hike. The professor wasn’t even an Indian or related to any Indian in any way. I wondered why some of the local Indians had not scalped him but I guess they had higher morals than he did.

The final blow came when I was doing some research about Utah County for my life story and discovered that Mt. Timpanogos isn’t the highest mountain in Utah. It’s not even the 2nd highest or the 3rd highest mountain in Utah. It is only 11,750 feet high and the 7th highest mountain in Utah.

However I have figured out how to overcome the blows to my childhood memories. I have decided that when I climbed Mt Timpanogos it was the highest mountain in Utah at 12,008 feet. Since then, the wind has blown a few feet off the top of the mountain.

The Indian maiden? Maybe the professor was right. After all, what do I know?

Pet Peeves

2012-03-13T21:32:00.001-07:00

We all have pet peeves. They change from time to time. I believe it’s just due to whatever you’re into or however you’re living your life. My worlds revolve around the internet, or as some people are beginning to call it, “the interNUT”.

I blog, I Google and I use the system for my work. I also get the ton of emails that jam up your system and take up your time. There is a ton of really bad stuff on the internet but there is a ton of good stuff.
I read most of the emails. Some are stupid. Some are cute or funny and some are even informative but it seems like most of them have one ending.

That ending is my pet peeve. In some form or another I am instructed that I must pass it on. The different forms of “pass it one” can be threatening in one way or another. I have collected a few for you edification:

• After all today is the tomorrow you worried about yesterday.
You have two choices now:
01. Delete this
02. Forward it to the people you care about.
You know the choice I made.

It was a religious message and insinuated that if I didn’t pass it on I hated God and didn’t care about my friends.

• The Chinese have a saying that goes something like this:
'When someone shares with you something of value,
You have an obligation to share it with others!'

I think this one was some political junk about Obama. I should have kept track of what the email was about but I have a good habit of junking all anti Obama letters.

• You can do your bit by remembering to send an e-mail to at least one unstable person. My job is done!

This one was some screwy thing that insinuated that I was mentally unstable. It’s true, I am a little unstable but I don’t like to admit it. (OK, I know it was a joke, but I’ll decide what I want to pass on)

• They say if you pass this on, you will receive a miracle.
I am passing this on because I thought it was really pretty, and besides, who couldn't use a miracle?

Here is another religious letter letting me know that if passed it on I would receive a miracle.

I think I’ve made my point and remember if you don’t pass this on to all of your friends, you will be trampled to death by 1000 marauding camels. If you do pass it on, you will be trampled to death by 1000 marauding interNUT NUTS.

Cliches

2012-03-10T12:05:00.000-08:00

I've been thinking. I try to do that every now and then.

This think is about clichés.

I have noticed that a lot of people, including myself, talk in cliches. When I make a statement it is not uncommon to be answered with a cliche or to answer with a cliche.

One of my favorite cliches is “Opportunity doesn't knock twice”.

When I hear those words I always wonder, why not? If it came the first time, surely it could drop in the 2nd time. What would happen if I’m in the shower and I don’t answer the door when opportunity knocks? It wouldn't be fair if opportunity only knocked once. If that were really the case then no one would ever take a shower and then what a stinking world we would have.

I know it’s just a cliché and cliché’s are just a bunch of words tossed into a pot, stirred around and then extracted by a word witch or just to be fair a word warlock. But people really do believe them and live by them.

What would happen if the word gurus stirred the pot and extracted, "Opportunity won't knock twice”? Would that change the meaning? What if the pot had popped out “opportunity only knocks once”? Would that change the meaning?

Or maybe if they forgot to tend the pot and the words just started popping out. Then the cliché might be “Opportunity knocks once, twice, three times or if you are not careful, opportunity will come knocking every night like a love stricken teenage boy mooning over your giggling teenage daughter”.

You hear the knock and you scream, “Get the hell away from my daughter!” and it turns out to be that pesky old opportunity. Then the cliché could be “opportunity keeps knocking until you chase it away with a shot gun.”

I think that cliches need to be short and to the point. Something like, “black dogs don’t talk”. You could fit that one into any conversation you want to.

Let’s say someone wants to borrow some money. All you have to say is, “They tell me that black dogs don’t talk.” You’re home free. Who in their right mind would challenge you and claim that, “black dogs do talk”?

The statement is correct. Black dogs don’t talk. They might ask, “What does ‘black dogs talking’ have to do with borrowing a buck or two?” You could continue with something like, ""I don't think white dogs can talk either' and then you have shifted the conversation to black versus white and then it will shift to politics and you won't have to worry about giving the guy a buck of two.

Most people are afraid to challenge cliches. We don’t challenge them because we do not want to admit that wew don’t have the slightest idea what you’re talking about.

I once said to a young friend of mine, “It’s tough to make ends meet”.

He thought for a minute and responded, “I guess when you do, you can barbecue them.”

I thought for my minute and said, “No, I’m going to boil them.”

He changed the subject and I wasn't sure if he was pulling my leg (there’s another one of them critters) or whether I was pulling his leg and I really didn't want to ask because, as you know “black dogs don’t talk.”
gs batty

within me

2012-03-09T16:04:00.001-08:00

within me

lies something confused

I should name it

but so far I refuse

to give it a name

that could lead to a soul

now it is just

a nameless thought

a jumbled mass

confused energy

wanting to be free

to inform the world

who is really me

and if it is released

would I know too

thump

2012-03-08T16:29:00.003-08:00

my heart
pounds

a blade of grass

a pond

a tree

will she come

I see voices in the sky

2012-03-04T22:12:00.002-08:00

The sun opens the eastern sky
closes the western sky.
Scattered clouds are born in the west
slip away in the east

Shards of blue peek through the black
Rainbows of oranges and reds and gold
reflect from the white of sun and the clouds
I wonder about the clouds and the sun

about the colors.
Have they just been sired
are they at the end of their time.
Have they traveled far

Are they born again
for inspiration
are they dying
to show the way

it is plain to see
that either way
They are
just as beautiful

it’s a lesson for me
to continue to shine,
to continue to be
even as I start to fade.

Politics and Preaching

2012-02-27T08:18:00.001-08:00

I see,

I hear

One side too

The other fro

Which am I?

Sometimes too

Sometimes fro

The preachers politic

The politicians preach

When did politics become religion?

When did religion become politics?

One side oot

The other orf

Am I either?
how would I no?

Aliens, they’re a laugh a second

2012-02-15T08:57:00.000-08:00

Prompt……."Suppose aliens abducted you as you were walking in the park. Write a story telling about this experience."

*******

Do you remember that song about strolling through the park one day in the merry, merry month of May? It goes on to say, “I was taken by surprise by a pair of roguish eyes…

It turns out the roguish eyes in the song belonged to a young maiden and they lived happily ever after.

Why do I bring that up that song? Well that sort of happened to me. I was strolling through the park and I was taken by surprise but it wasn’t in the merry month of May and it wasn’t a pair of roguish eyes.

It was last month, January and I was taken by surprise by a pair of alien eyes and a pair of alien arms and a single space ship. I was abducted by space people.

No, they were not little, they were not green and they didn’t have bug eyes but they did have great big ears like Dopey from Disney’s “Snow white” and they wore dopey hats and dopey robes. They said they were from the land of Dope just beyond the 10^th Star of the Galaxy Organorous.

You may be wondering why a bunch of Dopians would want to abduct me and I wondered the same thing and then I found out the head Dopian was also wondering the same thing.

I distinctly heard him say. "He's no dope, why did you abduct him? He is of no practical use to us. Throw him out."

Good I thought until I looked out the window and realized we were somewhere in outer space. It dawned on me that “throw him out” might not be good for my health.

I said, “Wait!” I didn’t know what else to say. Wait was the only thing I could think to say but it was a brilliant stroke of genius to say wait because “Weight” was the name of the head Dopian's daughter.

However, her name was not spelled w-a-i-t, it was spelled w-e-i-g-h-t but he didn’t know I was saying wait to wait. He thought I was calling his daughters name because I knew her.

His ears wiggled and he said, “Do you know where my daughter is?”

Now I am not the swiftest watermelon in the patch but I knew I had better know where the beautiful Miss Weight was located because if I didn't, I was going to do a space walk and not the Michael Jackson kind.

“Absolutely,” I replied. “She was sitting on a park bench right back there where you picked me up. Now if you will take me right back there where you picked me up, I’ll point her out to you.”

His ears went to full wiggle and he did a little circle toe dance that was kind of fun to watch.

I said, “You should do a show in Vegas. You would be a hit”

His ears started wiggling again and he did a circle toe dance in the reverse direction.

He giggled and said, “I had to unwind.”

Then he slapped me on the back and said, “That’s a Dopian joke…get it?”

I laughed because I knew it was smart to laugh at jokes of the powerful. His whole crew laughed because they knew it was smart to laugh at the jokes of their leader.

They took me back to the park and as I was leaving Weight really was waiting and she came Toe Dancing up to meet him. First, she wiggled one ear and then she wiggled the other ear.

I have no idea if that had a special meaning because I wiggled my derriere out of there.

gsbatty/Feb. 2012

the cloud

2012-02-11T20:36:00.000-08:00

The cloud
was there, so was I
I can only wonder

Wonder about the cloud
I knew I was there
but why the cloud

I well, I
I come from not to far
and the cloud

Now the cloud
is different
the cloud has traveled

The cloud has been reborn
Time and time and time
Again

And there it sits
Over me
Why

why that cloud
it’s not a good cloud
it has the black below

the gray above
is that me
do I see a message

feel a message
it moves
it moves away

why
am I marked
an omen

maybe
If that cloud comes back
I’ll know

The Horseman

2012-01-31T20:22:00.000-08:00

We all have fond memories of our childhood. We remember those time times that were different and exciting or a time when we met someone special

The horseman was one of those special moments in my childhood. He was a tall lanky man with a haphazard short cropped beard and I was pretty sure his nick name was something like “Slim”. It wasn’t. It was “The Horseman”. Naturally I assumed he rode horses.

Of course the residents in the small Southern Utah never uttered the direct article “The”. They simply said, “Horseman, how the hell are ya”, “Horseman, how the hell is old ‘Cabby’ doin” or “Hey Hoss, goin fishin today?”

But I’m getting ahead of myself. I was with my mom and dad sitting in one of the three booths at Judy’s Café when he walked in. He nodded at my parents and squeezed my shoulder.

He was a pleasant man with a warm smile that divulged a couple of missing teeth. Judy had his breakfast ready as he slid onto one of the four stools at the counter. He bantered back and forth with four road workers sitting at the booth behind us. He drank a full cup of black hot coffee before he started on his ham and eggs with a side of hotcakes

He didn’t waste any time with his breakfast. He made small talk while he still had food in his mouth. I was sure my mom was going to say something because she always did when I talked with my mouth full but she just looked the other way. I knew his bad table manners would be a topic that I would hear about the next time we sat down to eat. Also I noticed that he didn’t remove his hat when he sat down to eat. In fact, nobody did except me and my dad. ‘No hats at the table” was a rule at our house and it was strictly obeyed. I decided that I was going to be real happy when I could enjoy a meal like they did.

The tall man left just before we did. As I walked out the door I heard him say, “Come on Cabby lets head for home.”

The horse was nibbling grass next to the café. It wasn’t tied to anything. It didn’t even have a halter on. I waited for the tall man to get a saddle and halter and put it on the horse but he didn’t. He just started walking up the street and the horse turned and walked along beside him.

One of the road hands walked out of the café and my dad asked him why the tall man didn’t ride the horse.

“Old Hoss?” he answered. “Hell he’s never ridden a horse. Says it’s cruel. That old horse Cabby is his pet. Just like a damned dog. Follows him wherever he goes. Some folks swear that they even sleep together but I don’t believe that.

We call him the horseman because of old Cabby being a pet. You know he lives 5 miles back up in that canyon. He walks down here 6 days a week for breakfast. Figger he has to leave about six A.M. to get here by eight. Says the horse needs the exercise.

Walks to church on Sundays and that’s near seven miles one way and that damn horse walks with him. When he gets to church he sits in the back by a window and Cabby stands outside with his head in the window. Folks say that old horse hears every word the preachers says and even laughs when the preacher comes up with a good joke. And that ain’t the best of it. When the preacher prays, folks say the horse says amen. Now doesn’t that beat all. Course I never heard him say amen because I don’t go to church but I’ve been tempted just to hear that horse talk.”

By the time the road worker was through with his story, the Horseman and Cabby had walked clean out of sight.

“Is that a true story?” I asked my dad.

“Beats me,” my dad said. “But I’ll never call a man a liar unless I know for sure. What do you think?”

“I don’t know,” I replied. “But I sure would like to hear that horse say amen.”

2012-01-25T21:05:00.000-08:00

My Home Town

Beneath a mountain

above a lake

lies the town

I chose to forsake

It has left my life

But not my heart

Nor my mind

I dream

Of the small streets

Filled with love

Old friends of mine

They stop and say hello

How are you doing

How’s your uncle Joe

The words were real

Their hearts were true

When I think of what I left

My heart feels a little blue

Beauty

2012-01-22T13:30:00.000-08:00

whence cometh thou

Is it through
my eyes, my touch, my heart, my ears, my mind
another dimension
all dimensions

you cannot just be
how can I know thee

I must be you
I must let you be me

I must
climb for you…sweat for you
Feel your dirt…your rocks…your cold…your warmth
hear your winds sing the songs of life and love
hear your birds praise the universe above
hear your waters caress the earth below
rise to the sky and let it wrap round me
climb your mountains and make them me
lie in your valleys and feel them caress your skies

You must
feel
my aches…my pains…my breath
capture
my eyes, my ears, my mind, my heart, my soul

then

I will be yours
wherever you are, whatever you are

I will
see you, hear you, feel you, be you

you will be me, I will be you

We will belong

to the earth, the wind, the clouds, the moon, the sun and the stars,

The stars, the sun, the moon, the clouds, the wind, the earth,
will belong to us.

Having my Baby

2012-01-15T21:18:00.000-08:00

It has occurred to me that writing is just another form of creating a baby.

Every time we write something new, we have sired another baby or child. True to actual life, a lot these children are created and then abandoned.

An idea, a child, is created and then because the creator, the writer, has created more than he or she can deal with, the fetus is aborted.

We write half a page, half a chapter, half a book and then because we haven't planned properly or prepared ourselves properly, we are not fit to be the parents of what we have created. We lament that the child is not doing well. The child is not what we had hoped for but that is not his or her fault. (is the gender of an unborn article male of female?)

The fault lies in our inability to be master creators. We would like to be gods in the world of writing but alas, most of us are not
.
If, by some quirk of fate we are actually able to create a story or a book in its entirety, we are then left with the responsibility of raising our creation.

But as in human children, we need help. Someone has to clean up the poop. By "clean up the poop" I mean the story needs to be edited and proofed. Editing and proofing is like picking up the poop in your back yard. No matter hard hard I try I always miss a pile and it's the same way with writing.

When we write we know what we mean to say and it is easy to leave out words or use the wrong word in the wrong places and when we reread what we wrote our eyes see what we think is there
.
Have you seen the email that goes around where all the words are misspelled? It is very easy to read what is written and that is what we do with our own gibberish.

It is wise if you can beg or pay someone else to do the poop picking.

Once the poop is taken care, hopefully our child will move from grade school to high school where editors and agents may be lurking to grab the little bugger and make sure he or she (there's that gender thing again) stays on the straight and narrow.

If, and that is one big frigging if, (I have a love-hate relationship with the word frigging) it makes it with an agent and then a publisher, it may graduate from college and go on to bigger and better things.

Bigger and better things...like making money to support us in our old age.