Whoring for a Gotchya!!

 

POTUS has been skinned by a histrionic cow-girl in shellacked and sequined cowboy hats and sundry sequined outfits for doing what? For doing the right thing!. A phone call to a Gold Star Family expressing condolences. There is no way to beguile the pain of such loss the right way. No one  can succeed at making the immeasurable pain of losing a loved one go away. You do the best you can an accept there is nothing you can do to fix it. You can express your sympathy and not much more. But that simple truth seems lost on the info monger who are taffy-pulling this story out the door and down the block. But you can sigh, take a reflective moment, feel for the family then move on. Unless, of course, you have an ax to grind and the sensitivity of a pimp like our midnight cowgirl, Dem. Frederica Wilson.

 

EDUCATION FOR TODDDLERS

 

My previous posting on the healing qualities of family defines the differences between secular, Judeo/Christian values and a culture of ignorance as revealed in the linked article.  I am sure that if this little gem had been allowed to make it to puberty, she would have stood a good chance to enjoy the Bhurka, and genital mutilation that come to many females of the Muslim persuasion around age 12.

 

My Little Savior

 

Best picture I have of the couple , “John and Deb” . That’s why I use it so much. And having the Parthenon as a backdrop is pretty cool. But this is a story about hero’s and the lessons of life.

I am 6’3″ around two hundred pounds in height and weight. Deb, the nymph at my side is five two and 110 pounds weight on any given day.

We have been through a rough gauntlet this past decade what with a cluster of strokes kicking off a decade marked by death and disease of family members as well as financial difficulties related to my disability and inability to work. I have just discharged from the hospital.a couple of days ago with pneumonia and a bottle of antibiotics. This comes on the heel spending a couple of years tending to Debs father in the latter days of his dementia. All of us, contributed in fulfilling Debs promise to keep Ivan, (her father) in the home rather than neatly ensconced in a nursing home, ran us been run through the ringer of a very angry man with a brain disorder and related behaviors that  were so severe that we couldn’t  find a place willing to take him even if we were to wish that it be so.. Wedged between Ivan and my strokes I lost my motherand older brother within three months of each other, (unexpectedly).

Through it all I fought the fight to remain above physically and spritualy above ground asage and some early wild living caught up with me and took its toll in spades. Problems marched through my life putting me in the hospital several times. Ivan has passed, we get a call. One of my daughters has stage 3 breast cancer with some spread to her lymphatic system. She, her  good hubby and four children are with us now. Concomitant with this development my COPD reared it’s ugly head and now I spend some time every day on oxygen.In short, the last 7 years added up a millennia, or, so it seemed.:

  • 3 strokes
  • My mother dies
  • 3 months later my older brother dies (unexpected, an aneurism ruptured)
  • Appendix ruptured, but thinking it an old hernia I let it go for a week. I was so close to death when I finally saw my doctor about it. from the of my doctors office call and the opening incision was less than an hour.. The appendix  had been ruptured a week or so. and fecal material was filling up my thoracic cavity for a week. It took two Doctors over an hour to scoop all the shit out of me. ZIP dodged a bullet again.
  • Now, after a year of guarding a hostile, violent, sexually inappropriate dementia victim from hurting himself. (I must emphasize he was a rather rigid but otherwise nice fellow before his brain began to shrival).
  •  Oh! Yes, wedged between the dementia and my burst appendix, Three of my step daughters lost their father to a truck/train collision..

My daughters and son in law fought the good fight and I am proud of them…..but I found myself stuck in a paralytic state of intense agitated depression as I chaffed at my canula leash – time caring for Ivan wore on. I didn”t know whether I was going to survive Ivan or if he would be attending my funeral pretty soon.  As I wallowed in my depression, grieving over my shriveling physical capabilities and advancing age, the family did the best they could to take care of Ivan and as it turned out, tending to me when my lungs began failing.. I  could not handle the rarefied atmosphere of the Ute pass. Soon after Ivan’s passing we moved back to the plains at the foot of the front  range of the Rockies because I became prone to passing out unexpectedly and it was scaring the women in the family to death. But my depression and sense of having been an utter failure in life gave death an attractive luster. I became more beguiled by defeating my situation than just ending it.

Now that daughter with cancer is here and we 15 in the household, I have stopped sucking my thumb and come to the realization that as long as I love this family and show it  strong and quiet love, I am part of the strength and healing vital to the heart of the family. At the age of 61 I finally learned what true success is. I came to feel that I was a man of limitless wealth. Money had nothing to do with it. You can be a depressed drip driving your Lamborghini down highway 101 on the California coast with money in your pocket and the world by the testes and still be the body found in a Lamborghini with a cooling pistol in your hand.

MY MINITURE SAVIOUR

Deb is tiny. She has this huge quilted coat that gives her the look of a little tee-pee with a pretty face on top. After discharge from the hospital I couldn,t even manage to check the oil on my pick-up. Feeling useless, I sat in the cab wondering how she was going to do the job when the top of the engine was up to her nose. I watched in true wonder as she popped the hood and scampered (sporting her huge coat) up the front grill of my Silverado.  She carefully chose her grips and foot-holds on the face of the engine, and with a  few quick heaves she pulled herself up and onto the manifold under the hood.  Squatting on the engine, she checked the oil and added a quart  before nimbly climbing back to the ground and shutting the hood.

 

My daughter with cancer sat one morning, feet tucked up under her and staring off at whatever was in her head. She had shaved most of her hair off but with the tuft she left up top it gave the impression her “do” was a deliberate fashion choice. She was quite serene.

THIS PIK WAS TAKEN JUST A MOMENT AGO. SHE HAS  SHAVED THE LITTLE MOHAWK OFF COMPLETELY.

The pik shown here does no justice. but the fact remains that she has been gifted with such strong, beautiful, features, she cannot look bad. Even through the silent tears we have shared, she possessed effortless, heart breaking dignity. I am humbled and have no right to bitch about my pitiable condition with a daughter so strong.

I could go on for hours talking about my girls and their gifts, but today I will do just this.

I have been, through Amy, ( my oldest) and her steady and selfless help, Sherry and her example of a family done right, and Margi, my middle child, who gave us refuge when Deb and I found ourselves homeless and afoot, and last but not least, Alexandra and her precious gift of LaRay my brand-new granddaughter.. From which she has rallied and excelled. Now she is another star in my sky,…..

So as I sit here watching  my little Tee-Pee gingerly scamper across the engine. taking care of business as I realize I have not failed at making my mark in the world. I have not failed to find the top of Everest and the pot of gold. It has been a long and winding path to my grand epiphany, I am winner of winners. I am the great and powerful King of the most important place…….a family that loves itself and children who can now teach me how to fight the good fight.

Thank you Deb. Thank you family. You have breathed life into a soul near death and opened my eyes to beauty again. I hope to help you as much as you have helped me.

 

 

Love

 

.Romantic love does not exist.  Sexual attraction exists at the beginning of many if not most relationships  that end in long term partnerships. As a matter of fact I feel I have insulted the very concept of partnership by equating it with romance.

It’s been a while since divorce rates have passed the 50% mark. Now the bricks that bind our society, the nuclear family, (mom, dad, brother or sister) is at the skinny end of the slope downhill.   Just turn on the T.V., All too often the father is portrayed  a bumbling fool, the mother looks like a swimsuit model, the children are savvy stand-up comics and their relationship is a series of deceptions, and cute misdirections aimed at getting what they want at fathers expense.With the emasculation of the American patriarchy, with it’s defects, and butt of all humor, the very judgment and thought processes of the culture have been softened to  the condition of a warm loaf of bread. The robust nature of males has been assaulted to the point that a safety course on the proper use and misuse of the male penis is not far down the road.

With the popularizion of the “anti-hero” in popular culture, and the “bad boy” values that guided the hand of our men have lost their luster. It is true that there is a pile of work needed to merely civilize the millennia-old concept that patriarchy meant somebody was going to be victimized.

Grant me the serenity to accept, The things I cannot change. Courage to change the things I can. And the wisdom to know the difference.

This old adage, popularized through A.A. has been contemplated endlessly. With the phrase “wisdom to know the difference.” presenting us with the conundrum of the day. It is a matter of deciding what is right and good on a case by case basis. There will never be an “answer” we can finish the matter with just the best we can do from moment to moment. Only 15 year old Gurus have that bit of wisdom nailed down.

At the very base of our culture, or any society, is the smallest bonded group, the family. With family  values, traditions and beliefs passed on and the roles , (patriarch, matriarch), clearly modeled from an older member, the strength of the family, neigberhood and local community. A man that can love his wife and children, stand with his heart covered and eyes on the flag can still do wrong. A man , on the other hand,, who commits many violent acts and lives selfishly is capable of acts of generosity upon occasion.

LOVE

I spent the day yesterday sitting with my 32 year old daughter as she had her chemotherapy treatment. I was humbled by the quiet courage I saw in this young woman. It is amazing how much spiritual strength you absorb just by being near such a strong personality. My wife  was also right there, giving as much love as she could. The prognosis on her stage 3 mass is positive. That is good. The mass is about the size of a handball. “Scary.”

Her four sisters, 3 young children, her mother and father as well as her partner will guarantee there is someone to be with her with her 24/7. Such is the strength the family, where no one is forced to comply but wants to please those who love them. The sinew, blood an bone of the patriarch was never meant to offend, to suppress those in their care, but such muscle was meant to stand in harms way  and protect those who cannot protect themselves.

Love is strength, it is patient……love is commitment to the whole, even at the expense ones own wellbeing. After the Roman empire collapsed, a thousand years of violence blood, and cruelty defined western culture. The inquisition, the crusades and war after war to aggrandize petty nabobs and their dreams of empire marked an era of ignorance crowned by conquest and plague ignorance threatened to wipe out the whole of western Europe.

But the heart of Christendom survived. The immutable truth, in the words of a humble carpenter served as a light toward which mankind could find its way.

Evil will be with us always. We must not give in. Our vigilance must not be abandoned to fear or fatigue. We must not turn our back on love. The fact is that any system of spiritual belief that gives the male head of the family king-like power… is doomed to abuse that power selfishly. You know…”git me another beer bitch!”

 

 

Reality. Evil. Love

 

 

Pat Condell has a way with words and ideas that I find enchanting. He speaks for England mentions other Europeans and usually hits the nail squarely on the head.

Why  Muslims commit such violence, (up to now, primarily on other Muslims.)

Fact is we, ah- hem… if in reality they  didn’t have teeth, leopards would starve  . Teeth are hard and tear things apart….. they represent the hard parts of life……..Micro-aggression? Hmmmmm. 

But that is the question. If evil must exist to validate good, is there really any reason to behave? You’r vital to the system either way. The natural order of the ecosystem is based on the ingestion of one organism over others….Lions eat meat, cows eat grass. These are the natural order of things.  When you find a lion that, by their own volition, is a vegetarian, then we will discuss completely eliminating evil in the world. But such is not the case, unless you have an urge to hunt down and kill all alpha animals on the planets.

Violence is a natural drive. M And mankind kind is destined to war his deepest  drives.. The whole point in this inherent civil war is the struggle to find that imperfect balance  between personal protection and sacrifice of the sovereign of the teritorial imperative.

Evil is in us all. Sometimes I feel that when we fight evil and win we are redeemed,…that we have won a battle against the bloodier angels of our nature.  My mouth can deny the windshield. My face cannot. But when evil rises from it’s lair of shit and pitch waiting for the arrival of a miracle save to you is a fatal tactic. Regardless of how many times you watch “The Sound of Music” reality remains the same. And if you die waiting for the miracle, you will just be another corpse on the pile. Others will be left fight your fight. Many will die or maimed in your sted. Many will live with the unseen scars in their souls. (Like I get when I take out the garbage and the bag breaks about three feet from the trash bin.)But it is time to take out the garbage. 

 

 

 

Isn’t It Lovely

 

You know who you are dealing with  when engaged in verbal exchange with a combustible, histrionic, on the edge- of- physical violence person swinging a protest sign around recklessly……. A professor in an American University. Oh yes I forgot patronizing and condescending ad infinitum

 

The Woman’s Movement in Muslim Land

 

 

While the decrepit and wicked west was crafting the Magna Charta and painting the Sistine  Chapel ceiling,…….

slave arabScrotums and penises were being cut from black captives on slave trade raids and subsequent  death marches. Use of slaves both male and female as menial servants and as rape slaves was common well into the 20th century.   Genital mutilation of female captives, also a common practice often ended in an agonizing death. along these death marches. (It is regrettable that Gloria Steinem was not around at the time. )  The booming business of  sex-slave trade  continued for at least   1200 years, well into the 20th century.

I have been intellectually lazy, however, for neglecting cornering a feminist and pumping her for info concerning the modern feminists attitude and missionary action for the women of the Muslim culture.

 Oh! Why the deafening silence from NORMAL etc.. Apparently it is OK for the woman who is so fragile that she will ruin your life and or career over a sexual comment in the workplace but tolerate women coerced…..into genital mutilation, marriage against their will starting at the age nine and up, jailing, whipping or stoning for being raped, facial mutilation, amputation of the extremities, (arms feet etc.), etc. as  a small sample of legal judgments according to Sharia Law.

 The crusaders often massacred whole villages in the quest to regain the possession of the holy land. Not much better than the torture chambers of the inquisition or our past poor treatment of many indigenous populations all over the world  As an American raised with Judeo/Christian values I feel a twinge of shame at the mention of Christian brutality, (against Muslims in particular)..

So what is the difference.

Where is our position of moral ascendancy?

The big fact, the 800Lb. gorilla sitting in the middle of our living room, is that these dirty deeds happened 1400 years ago(not to mention our near genocide of Americas indigenous populations).Remember the trail of tears, the Sand Creek massacre, or the massacre at Wounded Knee.  Christians feel more and more at ease the farther we get from those dark days following the disintegration of the Roman Empire as well as the conquering of North America and our attempts at “civilizing” the Indians.

But when the Shaw of Iran bought the farm  and was set packing in a religious coup d’état in ’79. The fundamentalist revival that has since grown, and in some quarters still grows.  The point of this revival is to turn the calenders back to the 6th century, with law based on a weired welding of Judeaism,Christianity, and Bedouin polytheist tradition.  The goal of the game is conquer, occupy and  install their values in the occupied country. A world wide Caliphate is the ultimate goal. The strategy is to do anything you can to dismantle all other societies and in the process, install Sharia as a constitutional framework.

Love

Love was the message of an itinerant preacher proselytized two millennia ago. The spiritual power of his message still resonates around the world. And the fact of the matter is that the world is a violent place hungry for respite from the labours and horrors of a violent world. . His message was simple, but very difficult to execute. Commitment and effort, fidelity and patience are few of the disciplines of love.

Above all, the lesson we learned most deeply is that we don’t want to go back to the old days. We want our women free, equal and in possession of their own lives.

 

 

A SWEET LITTLE SONG

Pictured: A man lying on the street in Barcelona after the van ploughed into pedestrians along Las Ramblas 

It could have been male white racists. Could have been Buddhists. It could have been irate Irishmen. Maybe hinky Hindi’s. Maybe aggravated agnostics. Maybe Catty Catholics in heat. BUT! I don’t think so! Who would you put your money on?

Barcelona Spain got hit today. So far the body count is thirteen dead victims and a couple of armed men hole up in a Barcelona bar.  Well, so what! Big deal! it happens somewhere every day these days. Jus’ Klikdapik and peruse the news.

Yesterday I posted a piece on the gradual displacement of cultures and the flood of westward immigration from the holy land. It caused great consternation to some. They were pissed at my racist, anti-multi-cultural potty mouth.  This female used the word racist wrong. If you assume an angry semi-literate teacher, you would be right. These days getting a teaching certificate is more a matter of parroting a hand full of approved politically correct bumper stickers than any real knowledge. I could put together a list of  such quips. that would fit on a post card. “Having a nice death. Wish you were here. (Bring your Thesaurus, (noooooo it isn’t a dinosaur!)

The Devils Due

 

Love can be the most powerful force in the human heart. Hatred can be just as potent a drive as love, should it be nurtured and groomed in spite of the destruction it embraces. The pik below links to a simple opinion piece but it refers to the displacement of one culture by another and why the west should start worrying now.

Featured Image

There is a good chance that our great granddaughters will look like this in as short a span as two or three generations. So is it hatred to reject the enemies of freedom? Is it love or just misplaced “good intentions” to open the borders to those who want your territory but not your beliefs? Can the constitution dovetail with sharia or will the superstructure of democracy crumble before such a set of beliefs?

I am big, 6’3″ and a couple hundred pounds. Is it manly to use my strength to suppress those I am supposed to love. Or is it the true purpose of muscle to protect rather than conquer our own? I believe I have been given the gift of strength to stand in harms way for the benefit of those I love? Any respect I receive should be earned. I could get curtsies and bowed heads with a raised fist. but that is fear, not love. Should harm threaten my people, is it hatred that brings my raised fist against that harm?

 

The process of displacement has already metastasized throughout Europe right now.