Grunt Ahoy!

The Hog's Back

2012-01-18T23:00:00.000-08:00

I keep finding my life drawn towards your mysteries. The fascination of dreams lost in your deep places and wood. Man clung to your sides and rode your spine, trying to break you and extract an immortality that only fortune can provide. Denuded and gored, you shook them off with floods and fires. You kept the secret and held tight the riches that were never promised, rather, assumed. I dream of those that came before and tried their best. I wonder what I might find, besides others' attempts. Will I be given a fair turn? Or will I be shaken off prematurely and sent down without my name? Despite this, I'll wander in deeper with disregard to my pride. Some dreams live where nothing is certain and most is hidden. In that reality I'll build my shelter.

Passion vs. Obssesion

2012-01-12T14:21:00.000-08:00

Passion is something that you freely participate in; whereas, obsession is something that you can't help.

Passion: Doing something you love.

Obsession: Doing something because you feel that if you don't, something bad will happen or be felt as a result.

Let's examine obsession.....

Crazy person: (Wipes ass) Nope, still seeing brown. Better keep wiping until I see blood!

Now for passion....

Well adjusted person: (Wipes ass) Interesting...The color is lighter than expected. I can detect notes of citrus and hazelnuts. Now to test consistency!

I'm glad that I could clear this up for you all.

Community (on a cellular level--and no, this has nothing to do my health)

2012-01-01T12:23:00.000-08:00

("Bob" the cell) "Hey guys, what's up?"

(The rest of the cells) "Bob, don't kill yourself."

(Bob): "So, I'm kind of out of things to do....um, I'm going to kill myself, if that's okay?"

(The rest of the cells) "Bob, we need you to not do that."

Bob the cell goes away for awhile, floats around bumping into shit a fair amount and then comes back to the rest of the gang.

(Bob) "Hey everybody, I just got back. I'm pretty tired now. I'm going over to brain and off myself there, if that's okay?"

(The rest of the cells) "Bob, don't kill yourself. We need you to something for us first. We heard of rumors that Jerry was mutating over in the corner of the colon. He's quite charming and might have a following now. We want you to go and deal with it."

(Bob) "B-But, I like Jerry."

(The rest of the cells) "We know and feel that, based on your relationship of trust, you are the cell that can get close enough to him and get the job done. Plus, you did such a great job with the flu earlier this year; we thought of you."

(Bob) "You know that I'm a joiner. This is totally not going to work."

(The rest of the cells) "It's what we all want, Bob; just do it already."

Bob travels to the dark recesses of the colon and finds his ol' chum Jerry, only Jerry is a bit different now and is keeping some bad company.

(Jerry) "Well, look what the crap dragged in...Bob!"

(Bob) "Hey Jerry. You're still hanging 'round here, huh?"

(Jerry) "Yeah, you know me. I can't really do much else. I'm kinda stuck here with the twenty-year-old macaroni. You?"

(Bob) "Oh, just cellin'. Say, things look a bit different around here. Who are your new friends?"

(Jerry) "Same gang, Bob. We all felt that the scene was a bit old and wanted a change. And you know what's funny? Ever since we changed, we don't need everyone telling us to not kill ourselves. In fact, we want more cells like us. This is fun!"

(Bob) "Sounds great, but who's working the colon right now?"

(Jerry) "Who cares? Who??"

(Bob) "Well, we care bob and me and the rest of the cell community request that you kill yourself. Isn't that great?"

(Jerry) "Bob, fuck you!"

Bob, feeling like a total failure, went back to report what he found to the rest of the cells. The rest of the cells continued to deny his requests to commit suicide. He was given light duty assignments because they all thought he was weird. Later on, Bob finally got the order to die and so did every other cell. The End.

Author's note: C#

Never leave your child alone with a party clown

2011-12-20T23:11:00.000-08:00

I think the title is all this post needs. Happy Hanukkah!

Oldest Dirty Bastard

2011-12-16T01:24:00.000-08:00

In order to hold the title of "Oldest Dirty Bastard" you must use food stuffs as your main source of innuendo. Anyone for "instant mash" or receiving a "gift basket" (just add banana)?But even with success in mashing potatoes and inserting bananas into the fruit basket equation, the Oldest Dirty Bastard would occasionally suffer "writer's block".Of course, there is one simple cure for writer's block and cold frankfurters, which involves much repetitious pleading, again, referencing food stuffs found in 1930s era pantries.After all remedies have been applied, the requisite compliments and flattery are employed to ensure continued therapy and possibly a large breakfast of biscuits, sausages, fruits, and figgy pudding (well, I'd want figgy pudding afterwards).

Giving thanks for good health

2011-12-12T23:14:00.000-08:00

I had an examination with my oncologist today. My health is good. I am really happy about this. My oncologist has been there for me over the past while like no other person. To be honest, not only did she save my life, she gave me a different life. I have been able to talk to her about things that I'd not been able to with anyone who was in an "official" position to help me, including spiritual. She is a true healer with no intent to judge.

Anyway, she is moving on to another hospital. Today was the last checkup I had with her. We talked about the past four years and how she was only two years out of her residency when she handled my diagnosis and treatment plan. We talked about my rough journey of overcoming cancer, the loss of my sister to alcohol, and the loss of my mother to cancer (whom she got to know well during my chemotherapy treatments), all while we knew each other. We hugged and said our farewells. I also told her how grateful I was for all that she had done for me.

I don't know that I'm ready to break in another doctor. It will not be the same, but I am okay. My life may not be perfect, but the deep wounds that I've carried in my life are not so bad anymore. To have been treated by a true healer is a blessing. Doc, I give you thanks from the best part of me. I will try to make the life you gave me worthy of the effort you put into saving it.

Scrape

2011-12-05T23:41:00.000-08:00

The process of me getting up in the morning is similar to that of one ridding their shoes of undesirable matter. Despite the hard work of the people I find that my country is not any better than it used to be. I don't quit getting up in the morning to face the day, despite the feeling that things aren't improving. I hope this isn't what being an American means, nowadays. I'm looking forward to what the coming "Occupy Congress" movement will do. The US needs more effective management. Hopefully, the public will not give up in voicing this demand.

I never once thought that Wall Street would have given two shits about any of the occupy movements, so long as they could conduct their business. They are about the money only. This is their job. Why was this a surprise? Congress, on the other hand, are public servants, and the only thing the public is getting served is a confused arrangement of shit.

I have no overwhelming desire to be rich. Hell, it would be nice, but I'm not motivated in that regard. I would, however, like to feel some of that hope that I once heard about a few years back. Having the "right" ideals means nothing if you lack the ability or resolve to see them through. Why would I order the best pizza in the world if it wouldn't get delivered? Hell, I can say lots of fun stuff to people and get them all excited too! Whatever gets me the job. I'm tired of leaders either being insane or some golden retriever stuffed into a suit.

It is the media and the primaries that have spawned this ridiculous campaigning that we enjoy today. You tell me who looks like a normal human being, or a competent leader of a superpower? We have no clue how to get out of this mess, we really don't.

SUPER POSITIVE EBAY FEEDBACK ENDING!!! A++++++!!!!!!!

The absence of effective State, and, especially, national, restraint upon unfair money-getting has tended to create a small class of enormously wealthy and economically powerful men, whose chief object is to hold and increase their power. The prime need to is to change the conditions which enable these men to accumulate power which it is not for the general welfare that they should hold or exercise. We grudge no man a fortune which represents his own power and sagacity, when exercised with entire regard to the welfare of his fellows. Again, comrades over there, take the lesson from your own experience. Not only did you not grudge, but you gloried in the promotion of the great generals who gained their promotion by leading their army to victory. So it is with us. We grudge no man a fortune in civil life if it is honorably obtained and well used. It is not even enough that it should have been gained without doing damage to the community. We should permit it to be gained only so long as the gaining represents benefit to the community.

The fundamental thing to do for every man is to give him a chance to reach a place in which he will make the greatest possible contribution to the public welfare. Understand what I say there. Give him a chance, not push him up if he will not be pushed. Help any man who stumbles; if he lies down, it is a poor job to try to carry him; but if he is a worthy man, try your best to see that he gets a chance to show the worth that is in him. ~President Theodore Roosevelt

Confession

2011-11-27T23:16:00.000-08:00

I am not a Vietnamese prostitute. I am sorry that I let this charade go on for so long. In other snooze, I have written a children's book on the art of taxidermy. In other, other snooze, I lied about writing a children's book on the art of taxidermy. I am so sorry that I let this charade go on for one entire sentence. I blame the Liberal media for the first and Fox News for the later.

Now that things are straightened out, I need to attend to more important matters. By the way, if I were really a Vietnamese prostitute, I would go by the name of Netflix.

The End!

Etheuorque (Now featuring a mustache!)

2011-11-15T23:25:00.000-08:00

Click here to see an old post with a picture of me with horrible facial hair.

Who would like the challenge of defining my newly minted word? It's the title; I made it up. Yes, I'm silly and have no life, but help me anyway.

In other snooze, I did manage to sneak up to the hills on the weekend, during a break in the bad weather. I tried to excavate what I was talking about in the previous post and it wasn't even a "Geraldo" moment. What I thought was the entrance was a pocket, but through more digging found large slabs of rock collapsed on top of each other. I did find a bunch of ash, possibly from an old miner's campfire. So, I determined that it was foolish and way too dangerous for me, all by myself, to proceed. There is a tunnel back in the mountain some distance further, but it is beyond reasonable effort and risk to uncover. This is fine, however. This is just tunnel #1 of 4 in this camp--the one in the picture found here. I will have to post pics later. I'm hoping to at least have something interesting, besides dirt, to show.

Could this be my Geraldo moment?

2011-11-08T23:19:00.001-08:00

I remember watching Geraldo Rivera excavating the "secret" vaults of Al Capone with great anticipation of him finding a cache of loot or human remains. In the end, all that was found was a couple of broken bottles. My "Geraldo" moment may come soon. I have found an intriguing old mine that I discovered from a misidentified photo on the Utah Historical Society website. I located the mine camp last weekend and the mine entrance has long since been covered over by erosion. There is very little indication of human activity in that area, due to its overgrowth and difficulty of access.

Anyway, I started prying around with a branch and found the earth coming out with ease--the opening starting to reveal itself. While this is not a good idea, I have got all excited with thoughts of finding some cool artifacts left behind. This is probably unlikely, but I intend to find out anyway just for the hell of it. So this weekend, it will be me + pickaxe vs. landslide. I might be able to talk one of my friends into coming along and bringing his gullible brother in law along to do the brunt of the work. The only problem with this is that if any real loot is found, then you have to split it up. Well, the solution to that is to bring a gun and kill them right after they hand me the goods. I will already have a ready-made crypt for them; now all I need is a giant stone to roll over the hole.

Wait, you guys do read every word I write in my posts, not just the first couple of sentences, right? Drat! Okay, forget the part where I murder two people and pretend I said that we gave our riches to the starving orphans instead. I'm probably just going to find a couple of old, broken bottles anyway.

Please tell me this is normal

2011-11-03T23:20:00.000-07:00

So, with the deaths over the past two years of my sister and mother, I tend to expect someone else close to me to kick the bucket. It's not that there is a person in my family that I feel is near death at the moment, but I've gotten used to the idea that death has come closer to me. The reason I bring all of this up is that I have been looking at my dad and wondering when and how it's going to end for him. I wonder if it will be quick or drawn out. I also wonder if it will be me who finds him, how long he will have been dead before someone is to find him, what he'll look like, and if I find him, if I'll be ready. When he and I are around each other I can't help it; he tends to get stuck in these story-telling loops and all I can seem to think about is his mortality. I should be listening to him and taking down all I can of his life.

So, is this abnormal of me to think about? Images of my mother's last moments flash in my head now and again. While I have long accepted her death, those difficult images of her struggle and death remain. Even though I handled her last moments as best as I could, I still don't want to ever go through that experience again. But since my brother and I are the ones taking care of my dad, it is highly probable that it will either be one of us to handle his death and my job to handle the funeral and affairs of my father's estate. I am not ready for this at the moment, but when would I ever be? What a sad apprenticeship I've had helping with the last two family members' deaths. It has been an honor, but not something that I look forward to doing again.

I hope I get a break in this department and more joy all around.

Typing for attention

2011-10-25T23:16:00.000-07:00

Hi! I was feeling a bit lonely and decided to post something so you would feel obliged to comment. There's not a whole lot going on at the moment. I've had some good hikes. Um, I haven't really been listening to any new music. I've been trying to watch a few horror flicks a week to get myself in the Halloween mood. The McRib is back, so I've been ignoring any kind of sensible eating lately. I still dream of winning the lottery and buying my own volcanic island headquarters, in which I will plan my take over of the world. Yeah, it wouldn't really be an evil take over; in fact, I think people would find me to be very nice. I would certainly consult with people who would have your best interests in mind. Part of my plan would be to provide a sanctuary for homeless people, but it would be more of a "preserve" than a shelter. I would recreate their natural environment, provide plenty of "walk throughs" with extra change to give, and enough boxes and dumpsters to keep them happy. The public would help fund this "homeless preserve" by spending money on jeep safari tours through the homeless preserves. Poachers would be fined heavily.

Yeah.

It's the most wonderful time of the year!

2011-10-18T23:23:00.000-07:00

I love cemeteries. In fact, some of my favorite people in the world are in them right now.
I don't get creeped out that much. It's more a feeling of peace mixed with pondering my own mortality. There is also mystery as to who the people were that have been laid to rest there.

I love Fall. October ushers in a different spirit for me. I tend to fight it at first, but then I give in and let it take me where ever it wants to go.
Usually, I go and check out various sights, such as cemeteries and ghost towns, during this time of year. It fits my mood and keeps me interested in life. Funny how death and decay has a way of bringing to light how lucky you are to be living...and I am lucky to be living, despite all of the loss and hardship in the past five years of my life.
BTW, I wish I could pull off the "Uncle Fester" look once more, but only for a night and not because of cancer. What a great look for Halloween.

Feelin' a bit posty and unfocused

2011-10-10T23:20:00.000-07:00

I've had less and less to say lately. There's no one reason for it. My desire to pour my heart out to the world is something that isn't that important to me anymore. I get a feeling that what goes on in my head is best kept in there. Maybe I fear getting myself in trouble or in risk of ostracization, which would be fine with me, so long as my family doesn't disown me. I guess what I feel and think is a bit different, so sayeth the Lamb. It's not like I'm some great innovator, rich man, or guru. I'm the weird adult, who was the weird teenager, who was the odd child. I've tried to see things the way I was supposed to and I'll be honest, I couldn't see that sail boat in the 3D picture where you had to cross your eyes, either. So, I guess I am just supposed to surrender my perspective and go along with it all to make everyone happy and comfortable--whatever works. Bleh...I need to stop bitching and do something better with my life.

I think I will write a novel about Frankenstein, only he's hunkier and starts a virtuous romance with a teenage girl. If only the jocks with garden implements and torches would just leave him alone. Yeah, that's the ticket.

My latest craze has been finding abandoned mines and Native American rock art around the hills where I live. I am amazed at what I have found in my backyard, so to speak. I have found a couple of steam engines and boilers, panels of rock art, and more poison ivy and snakes than I care for. The weird thing is that in one area that I've found a network of mines recently, I had reoccurring dreams about, going as far back as ten years ago. In those dreams I was finding all sorts of holes in the mountain. Well, in real life, I did find the mines, but they are all mostly reclaimed or caved in. It's a good thing, because abandoned mines are death traps.

Okay, it's time for me to go to sleep.

Apparently, love is not enough and is not the answer

2011-10-02T14:31:00.000-07:00

It was First when John was 4 and then 8 when he heard the Beatles sing "All you need is love". After that his minister told him to shut up about the Beatles, put some money in the collection plate, and read his bible.

Water

2011-09-25T23:52:00.000-07:00

I don't have enough time to properly muse about this life-giving and sustaining element. There is enough time to tell a quick story about water, though. Anybody who says that water's taste is boring, or that it has no taste, is a boring person with no taste. We all had that favorite drinking fountain in school that tasted a bit better than the others. Each one of us, back when it was still cool to drink bottled water, had our own reasons for liking a certain "spring" or "glacier" brand water that hydrated us better, and at the same time had a certain satisfying taste. Maybe it isn't a definable taste per se; rather, a wetness and/or clean feeling you experienced as you drank it. However, I can say for a surety that naturally occurring water has a definite taste.

Well, on occasion, I do something stupid and drink out of streams when I hike. I haven't gotten sick as of yet. When all the orifices of mine start spewing forth all manner of waste products, I'll know I finally got my due. However, I don't do this as often now, and am very careful. Anyway, I have noticed a bit of difference in stream water. It really isn't what I would call pure. There's a sense that you are risking something, but at the same time enjoying it thoroughly. Yeah, I've had times where I've found carcasses of animals in streams that I had drank out of before. The thought of dead animals in the water adding to the flavor kind of ruined this romantic idea of mine that mountain streams were pure. Besides, springs are the way to go. But, in order to take full advantage of a spring, you must find the source.

Today, while on a hike, I came across a small stream of water trickling down the mountain. I decided to follow this little trail of wetness to see where it came from. Ferns started appearing in tight clusters and the overall vegetation was thicker than the surrounding area. A little ways up, there was a PVC pipe driven into the earth in the middle of the flow. From this pipe the water channeled outward so that one could fill a canteen. I bent over, cupped my hands under the pipe while filling them up, and drank with too much excitement that caused me to choke and cough for a bit. After I got my throat cleared, another attempt was made. This time I was able to take in all that I captured with my hands. Being thirsty from the hike, and not too keen on the stale water from my hydration pack, I followed this act again and again, like I was near death from dehydration. The flavors were exceptionally clean, yet earthy, while at the same time I could detect mossy, leafy notes. Possibly, it was not tapped into the source, but clean enough, filtered by gravel, dirt, then plant debris. I wish I could send you all some right now; it was glorious.

Now, only if I had time to tell you about the wild raspberries I found.

Helping=Happier (For Tys on Ice: Special Re-Re-Edited For Content Edition)

2011-09-05T22:28:00.000-07:00

I spent the day up in the mountains confusing and scaring off fish. I am not a good fisherman. What I am good at is helping others, and that is just what I did today. My brother and I (my brother is the only person that will hang out with me for more than a couple of hours these days) were off the beaten path in the mountains on a rough trail. We were in his Ford Exploder, which has four-wheel drive, but is not that great of a wheeler. I would have much rather been in my truck, save for the fact that today's outing would have cost me over $60 in gas. Anyway, we get to this lake and start to get out; this is when I start hearing tires spinning, smoke, and some dude frantically shouting "I AM SO (see bottom of post)!!!"

I walk up the trail to see this two-wheel drive truck with its front end down into some trees, the undercarriage hung up on a boulder, and it's ass end sticking up. Somehow this guy and his wife thought that turning around in this narrow and treacherous area was a better idea than simply backing down. I helped where I could by giving him advice and helping him carry it out--using a jack, branches, and flat rocks. It all seemed promising, but there simply weren't enough bodies to help. My brother didn't have any tow straps, plus there wasn't any way we could get in there without getting hung up ourselves. This is when I decided to go for a walk and see if there was anybody else around to help. Fortunately, there was a bunch of people coming in a five-seater buggy.

I got their attention and talked to the guys. They really weren't interested in helping. I was a bit surprised because they had their boys with them. Aren't dads supposed to be teaching their sons how to be good men? It took me about five minutes to persuade these guys to go a little out of their way and help. Once we all got up there, we tried and failed a few times, but with our collective minds and muscles, we finally got this poor guy and his wife out of the trees and off of this boulder. This proves the old adage correct in that many hands make light work.

The couple thanked us all and after the others left the guy, Bryce, thanked me especially. I kind of got the feeling that Bryce was a lot like me, in that, I don't ask for help that often and when I usually do it isn't with the words "help me". No, it is usually someone overhearing me say, in a figurative way, "I AM SO (see bottom of post)!" It still amazes me how many people would rather keep on going, so you have to just decide that you are going to be one of those people who stops and helps. It's the only way people like me are going to get unstuck. It's just nice that I could help this time. It took my mind off of my troubles for a bit.

Hobot 6000

2011-08-31T23:05:00.000-07:00

Is it a robot prostitute or a cyber hobo? You decide!

Yeah, it has been kind of a blah week. I had to write something silly to cheer me up; it worked.

Why get so excited? (Horoscope included)

2011-08-28T12:16:00.000-07:00

"...members of the Taurus tribe are about to be roused out of their plodding rhythm by a bolt of cosmic mojo. Get ready to rumble--and I mean that in the best sense of the word." Recent excerpt from "Free Will Astrology", by Rob Brezsny.

I usually don't even look at horoscopes. They're pretty much crap, right? Why, then, did I look at mine in the latest weekly city paper and get all hopeful? I think I wanted something to feel good about. Usually, it is fantasy that drives most of us or keeps us from totally packing it in. Sometimes fantasy is not seen as such and becomes part of our reality. Why do we do this? I think I do it because I want more from life--the things that I can't have right at this moment. Sometimes I want the things that are impossible to have or uncertain that they even exist. There are many things that we believe in that have no proof to back them up, but we still do believe in them. So, why get so excited? I guess I'm like a chimpanzee behind the glass at the zoo, thinking that one day my feces will magically pass through to the other side and hit my target. It's a thought that keeps me going.

No man is an island

2011-08-21T22:29:00.000-07:00

So, you are not truly self made. But why make that look so attractive if it is a fallacy? What if I like being an island? My problem is that when I try being an island a cruise ship starts circling my shores. This cruise "ship of fools" wants to find out what I've been doing with my coconuts on my island. Do I despise the ship or the fools more? I guess there are fools anywhere you go. Whoever put the fools on the ship and sailed them to my beach is probably some kind of demented Captain Stubing, saying, "Go forth and show this man you 'love' him, but make sure you irritate him as much as possible by being untactful and condescending."

Yeah, I'm a strange one.

Nope, not ready for another post

2011-08-18T22:34:00.000-07:00

But my fingers need the exercise anyway. What can I talk about? Well, I can tell you about a gross experience I had. I was unloading a storage pod. I grabbed a chair to hand it over to my buddy and the chair didn't leave my hand. I pulled back and the chair followed my right hand, middle finger. An upholstery staple had embedded itself into the flesh of my finger. When I yanked back there was a sharp pain then I could feel the staple tear right through. The chair dropped and I shouted a bit. Strangely, there was little blood. It was more of a finger scalping than anything. So I have a rather tender middle finger right now, with a nice patch of skin gone from it. This is karma for all those motorists that I've flipped off over the years.

I finally found the missing bearing cage and ball bearings for the back wheel of a vintage fifties cruiser bike that I'd been tinkering around with some time ago. I haven't yet got to putting the rear axle back together, but I will soon. I am not restoring this bike, but getting it mechanically sound, straightened out, and rideable (spell check doesn't like that word). I like the fact that it will be a bit rusty and faded; plus, the chain guard is from another bike from an earlier era and is green (the bike is red and white). This will complete the "ugly" look that I desire. I can't afford to throw any money into my truck anymore, so this will suffice.

Speaking of my truck, Clyde, I was certain that I was going to have to put a bullet in him recently. I have been hearing strange noises from the engine. I thought it was a bad valve, lifter, or pushrod. If you know engines, these are serious signs that you are nearing a complete overhaul at worst, a head job at the least. The thing is, if you are going to pull the heads, you might as well pull the whole engine. And if you do that, you might as well rebuild the whole damn thing, replacing the clutch while you're at it. Even for an old truck, this isn't cheap. I could certainly do the assembly and installation of the engine, but the machine work I would leave to the pros.

I really should just buy a newer truck, but from what I do to trucks, it doesn't make sense to burn twenty to thirty grand. How many newer trucks could I do most of the work on with a basic set of tools? How many newer trucks would I want to get totally scratched up by pinions and sage brush, dented by rocks, and not have to worry about devaluing it? I would love a new truck; they are way more powerful, nicer, and fuel efficient than the old ones. But an old truck is just me: tough, beat up, and filled with character. Anyway, the cause of the noise turned out to be something minor and I took care of it.

It was about two years ago that I was with my mother and sister, heading up to Steamboat, Colorado, to help support my sister at her court hearing for the DUI. I had no idea at that time that within a year and a half that they'd both be taken from me. I remember how good it felt to embrace my sister and tell her how much I loved her and how happy I was that the legal ordeal was behind her. I remember seeing my mother cry while hugging her daughter. God in Heaven, I do not understand the wisdom of these things--the loss--especially of my dear sister Bonnie. Hell, I can even remember our crappy dinner at the JB's in Vernal and joking about it afterward. My heart aches for her still. When I dropped her off at rehab, I had about a five minute hug with her. I could feel her mixed with relief and fear. I talked to her and told her how much I loved her. She responded that I could never know how much she loved and appreciated me. I may never get to know how much she did love and appreciate me, but I just can't stand how much I miss her now and I hope that somehow she knows it, as an expression of my love. I can't write anymore, sorry.

So, anyway, I did have something to post about after all.

Luck?

2011-08-14T22:33:00.000-07:00

I haven't been feeling unlucky, but I have been feeling like I need more luck than what I've been getting rationed. There's things in my life that I need that little extra help with that only luck can seem to provide. I guess I should make my own luck, but if it is anything like the time I tried to make curry, the results ended up rejected in the toilet.

If you make your own "luck" it isn't called luck; it's just making things happen. Maybe I'm not good at that. Well, at least I'm good at thinking before I do stupid things, most of the time. The point I'm trying to make here is that you can't achieve luck, just as you can't achieve the lottery. You need to have the odds in your favor, sure, but more than that, you need luck.

I have no rituals or lucky objects/charms. Do they seem to work for you? I really think it is more of a way that one reduces anxiety--a way of feeling in control. If I was to do some kind of ritual to get more luck or favor in my life it would probably involve a goat. Before I could get the ritual underway, the goat would probably find some interesting electrical cord to chew on and die. As for a lucky object/charms, I'd probably have a lucky left sock. Yes, I would not be lucky, but my lucky left sock would end up winning the lottery, leaving me and Mr. Right Sock all alone. I need luck not lucky things.

It's pretty silly to ask God for better luck, because that gives off the message that you prefer luck over divine intervention. The problem is that nobody gets "lucky" when God is behind your fate's steering wheel. Luck grants you those things that you are afraid to ask God for. Luck is like your cool older brother that lets you have a beer and a nudie mag for a baby sitter. There's no way God is going to listen to those requests and let you get away with it. Luck covers more bases because luck doesn't judge. Having said that, you do not want to piss off God or turn down his help. It's just smart.

So, I want a bit more mojo this coming year. I think I'm due for some good luck. So if you have a bit more luck than you need, consider my plea: Brother, could you spare me some luck?

Polyandry Annie

2011-08-11T20:07:00.000-07:00

I want to form my own circus, kind of like Cirque du Soleil, but less gay. I would call mine Cirque du Jirques. Bring a tarp. I really wouldn't want such a thing but my mind finds the word play fun. Anyway, I'm sure that such a thing already exists in Tijuana or Japan.

Don't you hate it when you bite the side of your mouth or tongue? Well, maybe it doesn't hurt so much as you just have a poor attitude about the whole thing in the first place. Do what I do and call them "flavor bursts". You'll begin to enjoy life and the taste of your own blood all the more!

Jim Carrey sure has broke new comedic ground with his "Mr. Popper's Penguins". It's sure to win him some kind of Oscar, Golden Globe, night with a tranny hooker. But he can't ride on the coattails of those adorable penguins the rest of his prestigious career. Nope, he'll return to a bit of hard comedy, like "Cable Guy" or "I Love You Phillip Morris". See, the common belief is that you can't have the sweet without the sour, and Jim should give it both ways long time. My movie idea for Mr. Carrey is this: A bumbling, old store clerk by day who transforms as a male prostitute at night. Yes, Mr. Carrey will take on the roll of the famous toilet paper pitchman, Mr. Whipple, starring in "Mr. Whipple's Nipples". This movie, and Jim's performance, will answer the question why you were not allowed to squeeze the Charmin, really.

That's all the post ideas I can remember for now. I was in the sun too long today and I feel a slight case of thermal retardation coming on.

Meow!

Met one of my bloggies this week

2011-08-07T11:28:00.000-07:00

Christielli came and visited the wonderful land of OZ and explored all that it had to offer the world in just several days; two main things being, of course, mammoth ice cream portions, and lots of dry land. The other thing would be a strange group of people known as Mormons, or God's own "white and delightsome" sons and daughters (sort of like a Paul Newman salad dressing). I know this to be true because of a strange feeling I get when I'm around a white and delightsome woman. It is the spirit testifying to me that the chosen vessel is truly delicious to the taste--in Mormon scripture, Lehi's Dream tells one to hold to the "Iron Rod" in order to best taste of these fruits. Women have testified the same of men, but it is forbidden to have this confirmation of, say, men and men, and women and women, except in times of sexual famine (prison, mission, scout camp). Yeah, this has nothing to do with the post. Please, keep reading.

So, yeah, my job was to show Christielli and friend behind the Mormon Curtain. The oddities, warts and all, as well as the good things too. It was something that was hard to do, given walking distances and time constraints. And I'll be honest with you people: In real life I am not a small, red guy who swears all the time and cracks wise at the drop of a hat. I also do not speak or read Mandarin Chinese (please stop sending me emails, Yuqi). Thankfully, Christielli knew these things before hand and has a firm grip on reality, so meeting her was not awkward in the least. Her friend was very nice, too. So, I did show them around Temple Square and just a slice of downtown SLC. The whole time I was thinking in the back of my head that I really did not know what in the hell I was going to do next, where to go, or if they were getting bored.

If you need to know one thing about me is that I deal with my anxieties by not planning, versus over planning. So, the plan, as far as I was concerned, was to point at stuff and say things. It worked; I think--kind of like that kid from "Jerry Maguire" going on about the weight of a human head and how dogs and bees smell fear. Now if only I could earn a living that way, I'd be set.

So the tour went by and once that was done, the one thing you can do in this town to curb boredom is to eat. So my idea was to pick the noisiest restaurant (Blue Iguana), with the most people inside, that way you get to yell "what" and "huh" a lot. Yeah, the "Outdoor Retailers" convention was in town. When having to deal with loud crowds of people in a restaurant, all that matters to me is "food goes in here" *points into mouth*. The food was good. We left the place and then we said our good byes. I went back to Gruntonia and they have since gone to NYC and all that is "Mo"town is now a faint, disturbing memory to them (I kid).

What was Christielli like? Well, I make no commentary on my guests because they were awesome and there's no arguing about it. If you want to know what Christielli is like, go and read her blog and become a fan yourself!

The people that I have met from Blogland have been great. I am not always enthusiastic about meeting new people. So, if I agree to come out of my shell and hang out, it means that I think you are one of the good ones. This is not to say that if I haven't met you yet that I think you are lame. It just means that we haven't met yet.

The best part about this post is that it is more than just a plain mentioning of said event. This makes my post creepy! I aim to please. Toodles!

The search for facts goes on....wait, went too far. (Added Commentary)

2011-07-31T22:59:00.000-07:00

Here's the thing about the endless search for fact: it usually ends with a picture of some sad person with a dick in their mouth. The unrestricted search for light also allows darkness to intrude. Google image search is a prime example of this: you image search something long enough without any filters and you end up looking at a picture of some sad person with a dick in their mouth.

The pure, unadulterated fact is smothered in adulteration. Yeah, that is a bit contradictory, but so is just about anything once you really pull it apart. What I meant to say is that, you have to really be willing to push that filth aside to do it yourself. You could just follow someone else's quest or claims, but where's the adventure in that? So, you take it upon yourself to gleam the untarnished picture of reality. Then, you are faced with this question: at what cost come the facts?

What is truth? I've always assumed that facts and truth were the same. Lately, I've started to feel that truth has more of an agenda and facts just are. Truth seems to only need necessary assembled facts in order to live, but it needs plenty of window dressing to get people to believe in it. That, in and of itself, would be great if it meant that the minimal facts that "truths" were based on had enough strength to overcome the preponderance of evidence towards a greater fact.

Let me use a poor example: A government fought wars based on many reasons, only few were known to the public; the few that were known to the public were just; the others held secret were diabolical--which version will be taught to the children? Wow, that was a bad sentence! The truth for the government will be that it was just. The truth for those who discovered the atrocities will see things as unjust. If you lay out the facts it may skew one way or another when the total cause and effect is seen. But what does that matter? People go away with what facts they desire and start decorating it with their own ideology, culture, and beliefs. Either way, truth is a salve, a pipe dream, and ends up being the foundation for the stories we tell ourselves when we go to bed at night: all is well, or all is not well but at least I'm right!

I come to this conclusion because most people that tout the truth do so on the basis of thin air, lots of emotion, and a few inspiring real events thrown in for good measure. The holding dear to these "truths" might in of itself fulfill many aspects of the promise of said truth, but most of these truths promise more than measurable/verifiable results. This is where it gets crazy. This is where the "truth" promises you the bounty of the universe but in reality it gives you something that is more earthbound. We get these earthly results and try to extend them into realms unknown. The thing is that you can start demanding more and more of people with the promises of delicious "moon cheese"; even more, you can control them.

See, what truth does is sell you your script; your performance and how the audience reacts is reality. So, you can act well your part, as the famous saying goes, or you can change the script. But, if you decide to see what really goes on behind the scenes, you are eventually going to open a dressing room and see some sad person with a dick in their mouth.

P.S.

I'll be the first to say that I went a bit overboard on the metaphor and imagery. Bad Grunt!

I also wanted to clarify that I was speaking about what people hold as true versus THE TRUTH. I feel that what gets embraced as truth sometimes is an attempt to make sense of facts, when mixed up with culture, myth and emotion. Objectivity seems to be in short supply concerning matters of faith, because faith is by nature subjective. Yet, we use faith as a way of following and declaring "so-called" truths. This is hardly the way an investigator arrives at a conclusion of truth, by a preponderance of evidence.

My sister Bonnie used to see the evidence of cases in both her jobs at the State Supreme Court and Federal Courts. She used to come home crying her guts out at seeing these things. This was a large contributor to her alcoholism. The whole truth is not always uplifting, but there are people that have to know in order to best help and to best make correct decisions. If you don't want to know, that is fine, but you can't clean a toilet without stirring up the shit.