Either tomorrow afternoon, or Monday before Noon(-ish), I'm headed into the hills. I've had it with society for a while. Need to detox my soul, my body (sorry, taken too many allergens in lately, so I need a purge period away from most of them), and my head (the first two are jamming up my creativity).
But, before I head out, one last little rant.
Apparently, according to some, I am the sole fault in my current situation, and all bad things that ever hit me in my life.
Yeah, well, maybe I bear part of the blame, but never all.
Look in the mirror, folks. Look into those eyes, and if you can convince that person I'm just a waste of space, fine. Pass that judgement, but be ready for a return judgement from me.
I've had it with folks saying they want my help, but only on their projects, to forward their ends, not mine. Those who aid the homeless claim to understand us all, but act like it's all mental illness, drug abuse, or something else in their little niches.
My only mental illness is a nasty temper, which has a much longer fuse than any think, and moments when my social skills slip away, and I give you the brutal truth, from my point of view, sans tact.
And that is what this is about.
You see, as you have judged me, I feel no more need to hold back the sarcasm, criticisms, or just meanness I've swallowed, a lot more than others think I do. I will no longer be holding that back. You pop off your stupid opinions around me, I'm gonna let you know what I really feel about them. The full, ugly truth about them.
Political, religious, personal, even those on the weather, all fair game.
Once upon a time, I asked God to take away my anger for while, and He did. It left me a poor performer, as He took it all, even the self-anger that drove me to do better after screwing up. Cost me my job, reputation, and some other things.I'm not asking him to take away my tact, I'm shelving it myself, tossing out the social graces, save those I cherish. Reminding folks I had the moniker of Cad applied to me by my grandmother, not myself, I just embraced it, then changed the meaning, as society decided being a cad (ungentlemanly fellow) was stylish, having to take upon myself some of those traits once deemed gentleman's creed, to stand out from the crowd as bucking the trend.
Now, I'm walking away, and the need to impress others no longer matters. All that matters, in the end, is impressing myself, my God, and any critters that wander into my camp. And if you are one of the critters? I'm not going to impress you with social graces, my unwavering faith, or any of that. I'll unload on you for disrespecting me and my honor, if you dare criticize me for being there, being a bum, being "damaged good", or any other crap.
Spout off at me, tell me about how I am not smart, you will get the full taste, until you flee, of my intelligence. Every tiny bit, and maybe, if you take it like a person, not a fucking idiot, I might let you do a rebuttal. But I doubt it, that requires tact, and that I'm leaving on a shelf amid society... a society I no longer really recognize as the one I grew up in, aged to this point in.
See, even now, the edge of the terrible sword of my tongue is tearing through it... so I'll stop now. Just, don't press your luck. I'll have no cares left, once up there, until I come back down, and try to bridle my anger, my mouth, and my mind, with tact again of my own free will... assuming I remember which shelf, and where that shelf is, when I get back.
Saturday, November 29, 2014
Sunday, October 26, 2014
Walking away...for a while
I have had enough.
Been kicked, spit on, looked down at, mocked, and many other things good people should never have done. And, after four years, I've had enough.
I am headed out next weekend to camp for a while, take my soul out, and see if I can repair it, see if there is anything left of it.
This place will be dead, while I am gone, but I urge you, read what I have left, not just here, but in other places... for if you ever meet me, you better be ready to deal with me being back on my own high-horse, really fast, and ready to speak with reason, not what you feel is such.
L8r,
D. Rex.
Been kicked, spit on, looked down at, mocked, and many other things good people should never have done. And, after four years, I've had enough.
I am headed out next weekend to camp for a while, take my soul out, and see if I can repair it, see if there is anything left of it.
This place will be dead, while I am gone, but I urge you, read what I have left, not just here, but in other places... for if you ever meet me, you better be ready to deal with me being back on my own high-horse, really fast, and ready to speak with reason, not what you feel is such.
L8r,
D. Rex.
Walking away...for a while
I have had enough.
Been kicked, spit on, looked down at, mocked, and many other things good people should never have done. And, after four years, I've had enough.
I am headed out next weekend to camp for a while, take my soul out, and see if I can repair it, see if there is anything left of it.
This place will be dead, while I am gone, but I urge you, read what I have left, not just here, but in other places... for if you ever meet me, you better be ready to deal with me being back on my own high-horse, really fast, and ready to speak with reason, not what you feel is such.
L8r,
D. Rex.
Been kicked, spit on, looked down at, mocked, and many other things good people should never have done. And, after four years, I've had enough.
I am headed out next weekend to camp for a while, take my soul out, and see if I can repair it, see if there is anything left of it.
This place will be dead, while I am gone, but I urge you, read what I have left, not just here, but in other places... for if you ever meet me, you better be ready to deal with me being back on my own high-horse, really fast, and ready to speak with reason, not what you feel is such.
L8r,
D. Rex.
Friday, October 17, 2014
Ebola has made it to a 1st world nation... and sadly it is the one known as "Medication-Nation", which means many of the things the experts think they know about the disease are going to either fail them, or prove wrong as we get to see it closer now...
Top of that list, in a nation where so many folks are on various medications, treatments, or self-prescribing over-the-counter meds that suppress parts of the immune system, of which fever is one prime part of... can we really take that 3rd world observed temperature for virus shedding point of 100.4 as the Gold Standard?
No.
Sorry, but our leaders and professionals fucked this one up, and I refuse to recant that usage of a cuss word...
Add to this, the arrogance that we have, letting folks exposed to something like this continue with daily life like normal? I defer to the man with the Doctorate in Swearology, Sgt. Snorkel of Beetle Bailey fame, to express my feelings on that. But, honestly? We really thought that was the answer? Allowing folks to continue to travel during that incubation period? Look at the chaos that is causing, compared to what some common sense travel bans, and a quarantine in place at the site of exposure, would have wrought (a lot less chaos, and much more trust in the leadership of those in the positions we expect that of, but now we will never know).
I'm on a tear about how #Texas did this to us... in truth, we all have. We became complacent, trusted too much, or handed over too much authority, to fools, apparently. At all levels of government.
Our medical community failed us, by not following their own advice, and moving about, our leaders failed us, by not imposing stricter controls, and making sure all agencies communicated and worked together on all the issues around such outbreaks, and worst, we failed ourselves.
I've sat on this long enough... and that is only 12 hours after I made the connection, reached out, admittedly after hours, to a contact in the local health department, and sent that probably lost missive to the folks at 1600 Penn Ave... lost in the flood of others screaming panic...
Don't trust that 100.4. Viral load in a patient, the population of the virus in that human's body, drives the point where viral shedding, or being infectious, occurs. No medical degree, no degree at all, from a homeless bum, who happens to read a lot... and triggered by seeing someone post, who is doing the right thing, and self-quarantining after exposure, a lower than normal temperature. Sadly, it took me nearly ten hours to make that connection. Ten precious hours, then twelve more, debating with myself if laying this out there is wise, or feeding the frenzy... but, we have to know, and take that bit of caution.
With how Ohio is reacting to Index case 1.2, Ms. Vinson, I think at least some are, but not warning others... and they should. All the symptoms have some way to suppress them... I just hope we find a better diagnostic technique soon, and start using some common sense. Like those brave enough to do the right thing themselves, on their own initiative. Without that medical degree, but with Wisdom.
Top of that list, in a nation where so many folks are on various medications, treatments, or self-prescribing over-the-counter meds that suppress parts of the immune system, of which fever is one prime part of... can we really take that 3rd world observed temperature for virus shedding point of 100.4 as the Gold Standard?
No.
Sorry, but our leaders and professionals fucked this one up, and I refuse to recant that usage of a cuss word...
Add to this, the arrogance that we have, letting folks exposed to something like this continue with daily life like normal? I defer to the man with the Doctorate in Swearology, Sgt. Snorkel of Beetle Bailey fame, to express my feelings on that. But, honestly? We really thought that was the answer? Allowing folks to continue to travel during that incubation period? Look at the chaos that is causing, compared to what some common sense travel bans, and a quarantine in place at the site of exposure, would have wrought (a lot less chaos, and much more trust in the leadership of those in the positions we expect that of, but now we will never know).
I'm on a tear about how #Texas did this to us... in truth, we all have. We became complacent, trusted too much, or handed over too much authority, to fools, apparently. At all levels of government.
Our medical community failed us, by not following their own advice, and moving about, our leaders failed us, by not imposing stricter controls, and making sure all agencies communicated and worked together on all the issues around such outbreaks, and worst, we failed ourselves.
I've sat on this long enough... and that is only 12 hours after I made the connection, reached out, admittedly after hours, to a contact in the local health department, and sent that probably lost missive to the folks at 1600 Penn Ave... lost in the flood of others screaming panic...
Don't trust that 100.4. Viral load in a patient, the population of the virus in that human's body, drives the point where viral shedding, or being infectious, occurs. No medical degree, no degree at all, from a homeless bum, who happens to read a lot... and triggered by seeing someone post, who is doing the right thing, and self-quarantining after exposure, a lower than normal temperature. Sadly, it took me nearly ten hours to make that connection. Ten precious hours, then twelve more, debating with myself if laying this out there is wise, or feeding the frenzy... but, we have to know, and take that bit of caution.
With how Ohio is reacting to Index case 1.2, Ms. Vinson, I think at least some are, but not warning others... and they should. All the symptoms have some way to suppress them... I just hope we find a better diagnostic technique soon, and start using some common sense. Like those brave enough to do the right thing themselves, on their own initiative. Without that medical degree, but with Wisdom.
Wednesday, October 15, 2014
Warning and suggestions about the times we are in.
Time for Dyfedd Rex to pontificate about something he’d
planned to keep quite on. Your choice as to what this is, me staring into some
crystal ball or reading Tarot cards, or if I’m using deductive powers like a
certain renowned detective stepped from the writings of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.
We, as a planet, are about to take it in the shorts. Without
Mother Nature letting her agents of culling the herds use any lubrication at
all…
Period.
When the legendary Four Horsemen ride the world, in a
hunting pack, we as a race really don’t stand a chance. Now, before you think
I’m saying that this is the End Times, or just scaring folks, let me lay out
for you some facts, that the ancient scribes or God, or gods, depending upon
your beliefs, really were saying.
Pestilence/Plague, Famine, War, and Death work hand in hand.
This is the real message here, today. Each feeds the other, driving the cycle
of life that even the greatest of nations must fear. War opens the gates to the
Pestilence and Famine, shown in our own often decried and forgotten history,
and Death rides his pale horse everyday through us, so we only notice him when
that scythe takes larger numbers each swing. Enough with the allegories, time
for the facts, the deductions/predictions, and some answers, which, while I am
sure some in high places are thinking about, they are taking their own sweet
time in doing so. Which will cost us more lives, more freedoms, and maybe our
way of life, forever.
War opens the door for diseases to move about easily, as
healthcare breaks down in active zones, folks are more worried about surviving
the conflict, fleeing places where the dead bodies pile up, than staying
healthy, or laying in the supplies/crops to push on beyond the moment. And
this, for those in the conflict zone, is fully understandable. You cannot eat
crops you are raising if you catch a bullet or are blasted to bits by an
explosion, so we run. That running, plus the constant shifting of troops around
in the zone, outside it in staging areas, and the rotation home of troops to
rebuild morale, re-equip, and train more soldiers.
This leads to a vector for Pestilence, be his form some
parasite, some disease, something worse, to ride on those fleeing and fighting
into new areas as conflicts shift about the chessboard, reacting to the
situations. Famine comes from the places folks flee to, or head back to
afterwards, not being prepared for the issues tagging along with them. The
World’s current unrest is such a case. Much as WWI was the true spread
mechanism for Spanish Flu during the years of the war and after, so too will
the current crisis do the same, unless we learn from our past, as several
philosophers warn us to do.
Am I saying we should not fight the just wars? No, but we
need to move much more cautiously, and that might be why we are resisting so
much sending ground troops into the fray against the Islamic State forces.
Someone in government is urging caution, and being heeded. This might also
explain the recent withdrawal of forces from Ukraine by Russia. Some wise person
got Putin’s ear, and warned him of the consequences of continuing a conflict
during a pandemic. Not just Ebola, but the enterovirus you see in the news of
late, and resurgent, treatment resisting strains of things we thought we beat,
like Polio and Tuberculosis. Multiple diseases, with very different
presentations, all potentially killers. Not a good scenario for the world.
How is this going to drive Famine? Few these days have a
stash of food, unless they accept the ridicule of others for being survivalists,
or the religion urges them to have such. The rule of thumb, if we do have to
resort to early 20th Century tactics, is double the incubation
period of locking down or quarantining a city, town, household, or what ever
level we are forced by the spread of disease to move at. And with the large
numbers of folks needing the assistance of food stamps and food banks, here in
the U.S., that means Famine will be hitting those folks mid-way through, just
as it did during the lockdowns of many places during “The Great Influenza”, who
were forced to keep going out to shop, allowing that one vector to continue.
Now, Ebola is not quite that contagious, but still, even a slight variance of
it’s survival outside a body, could change that into something like the flu,
where even wiping with disinfectants is not 100% effective in stopping its
spread.
Here in the USA, the most risk groups will be the same as
always, the homeless, drug addicts, the immune compromised (be it HIV victims,
those recently treated for cancers, transplant recipients who take drugs
against rejection, etc.), and any who work with them. IF this outbreak hits
them, God help us all. The timing is very scary, as from now until the first
week of January is one of the peak times for the transient portion of the
homeless to be on the move. I know this, from experience, being homeless much
of the last four years myself. The transient section are seeking the shelters
and areas with known “Generous Giving Seasons”, where panhandlers make the most
money to winter over on. With the crammed and unsanitary conditions in many
shelters around our nation, this will prove a problem with no good answer.
Now, one more thing, before I leave. The worst part about
any disease, any, is that all it takes to move it from epidemic to pandemic is
stupid decisions by supposedly smart people. The homeless, often suffering
mental illness, cannot be held to blame as much as those in healthcare and the
government who fail to use common sense.
Case in point? Easy. Our Second US transmitted case of Ebola
will now be a very difficult to control, thanks to a foolish healthcare worker
who took a flight during their supposed time of incubation. One stupid
decision, that now lays the other 132 passengers, and all the attending flight
support folks, from the ticket agents down onto the ramp rats loading luggage,
the TSA folks who inspected the patient’s luggage, and on further, to the
virus. A stupid decision, by someone who should have known better. And where
was the government in this? Why are those in the 21 day window not on a
separate list for “No-Fly” status? Who knows, probably out feeding at the
public trough on our tax dollars. Stupid
moves… when the Horsemen are riding, cost lives.
My suggestions? Simple.
1: Take the advice of Doug Adams, from the “Hitchhiker’s
Guide to the Galaxy”, and “Don’t Panic”. Seriously, panic will only make it
worse. Be calm, cautious, and remember, it ain’t your fault you get a disease,
but it will be your fault if it spreads via you. be prepared, wisely. If in a
crowded place, do your best to avoid physical contact, keep a spacing of at
least an arm’s length… out of not just caution, but courtesy as well.
2:Lay in now a supply of food in case you are exposed, and
some serious entertainment supplies to prevent boredom turning you into a maker
of dumb decisions. Books, movies, games, you name it. Keep it handy, it ain’t
worth it to put others at risk from your exposure. Plan on a sixty day stay, if
you have family/roommates, making them stay in place as well. Might be tough,
but you don’t want to be responsible for the spread of it.
3: Be aware that some may not know they are a carrier,
thanks to this stupid decision, and probably others. Some fool probably took
mass transit, or will, along the line.
4: If exposed, do NOT be a damned fool, and expose others,
on the assumption that they have told us we cannot catch it until symptoms
appear. Self-Quarantine may seem harsh, but your friends, family, and neighbors
will thank you for doing it, instead of sharing something by chance.
5: Make a plan now, for such. If you have a good plan, and stick to it, you won't be the next "Typhoid Mary" out there, spreading it around. And, you can protect any loved ones from further exposure. Include ways to communicate during isolation/quarantine, who becomes responsible for kids, pets, homes, etc., and even how to drop food and other supplies off, if not fully prepared in advance.
My true biggest fear, regarding Ebola, is a carrier developing.
Someone who will be asymptomatic, but shed the virus, a modern day “Typhoid
Mary” if you will, who will not have a clue what havoc they are creating. God
help us all, if that occurs.
Sunday, October 5, 2014
Time to Walk Away Arrives
The time to walk away has arrived.
There are a few last tasks to do. Then I shall walk out, finding me a mountain valley to hide in, here amid the Great American Desert, to see what will unfold below me, as the actions of fools at last come home to collect their price.
I will gather up my few belongings, sort through them, winnow out that which no longer matters, that which will not sustain me, and carry forward with only a small fraction of my once vast wealth of knowledge. I shall hand back to a failed nation that which marked me as serving it, reminding those who I hand those documents to of their earliest training, a class on military justice, and the echo in my voice will be that of the officer who reminded my fellows then of the price that comes of obeying orders that are unjust and unlawful. I shall walk away spreading the word that the days of our glory and rightness never existed, were just an illusion that even I was mesmerized by, as they still are.
I wish only one thing more... only one. Turn aside from the Paths of Damnation, people. I wish I had finished that tale, told the price of Arrogance and Pride, Told the world that they waded into the Darkness, the Madness, that we all carry inside us. But I was too weak. Now, gathering my last bits of self, I walk away to contemplate my failings. Forty days one walked out there, in a vast wilderness before me. I only hope I, too, can resist the temptations I shall face,
Be well... and believe in beauty of the soul, not beauty of possessions and form. Perhaps that final message will save you all...
goodbye, and bother me not again, please. You failed me when I needed help, why should I reach out to save a society, a world, broken by the worship of Sins, instead of eschewing such in favor of Love and Forgiveness.
I will watch, from some high place, but refuse to lift up a finger to save any. For, if I cannot be saved, why should others?
There are a few last tasks to do. Then I shall walk out, finding me a mountain valley to hide in, here amid the Great American Desert, to see what will unfold below me, as the actions of fools at last come home to collect their price.
I will gather up my few belongings, sort through them, winnow out that which no longer matters, that which will not sustain me, and carry forward with only a small fraction of my once vast wealth of knowledge. I shall hand back to a failed nation that which marked me as serving it, reminding those who I hand those documents to of their earliest training, a class on military justice, and the echo in my voice will be that of the officer who reminded my fellows then of the price that comes of obeying orders that are unjust and unlawful. I shall walk away spreading the word that the days of our glory and rightness never existed, were just an illusion that even I was mesmerized by, as they still are.
I wish only one thing more... only one. Turn aside from the Paths of Damnation, people. I wish I had finished that tale, told the price of Arrogance and Pride, Told the world that they waded into the Darkness, the Madness, that we all carry inside us. But I was too weak. Now, gathering my last bits of self, I walk away to contemplate my failings. Forty days one walked out there, in a vast wilderness before me. I only hope I, too, can resist the temptations I shall face,
Be well... and believe in beauty of the soul, not beauty of possessions and form. Perhaps that final message will save you all...
goodbye, and bother me not again, please. You failed me when I needed help, why should I reach out to save a society, a world, broken by the worship of Sins, instead of eschewing such in favor of Love and Forgiveness.
I will watch, from some high place, but refuse to lift up a finger to save any. For, if I cannot be saved, why should others?
Thursday, October 2, 2014
Just a Ghost
That is how I felt... oh, yeah, before going along further, today's rant is canned, I've headed off to find a hidey hole to winter over in. By the time I get back, if I come back (hey, I might enjoy being alone for the next while)... okay, back on track here..
Just a ghost, something few saw, and when they did, horror and fear came to their eyes, mostly.
I could walk along, and unless you were overly fearful, few would stop to offer aid, ask questions, or even nod, wave, or return the hello's and howdy's I gave, tipping my hat or nodding my head to indicate I still saw you all.
Hell, holding a sign, once, I had someone bitch about me trying to get their attention... over their gas cap still sitting on the trunk before they lost it. (Thankfully, an off duty cop saw why, and kept the heat off me, thanks to that officer, even if he thought I did not know about it.)
Dropping all those job apps, all any one remembers is the lesser amounts of time I spent playing a few games to distract my mind from the waiting, not the number of times I had job boards open, or worked on stories between filing applications, as a back up plan to getting a job.
Few remember the times me and my running mate gave helpful directions around town, expressed interest in events going on, and gave directions to events that failed to lay out some decent signage (a Certain runners' event comes to mind, when as a joke for other homeless, we held up our notebooks as if flying a sign, giving the directions to the registration desk...)
Few remember those three times we changed out flat tires, the kid we talked out of her little escapade of running away, thinking the streets better than a foster home, or the times we carried others gear for them when they were injured or just not well.
We were ghosts, to be exorcised from society, evil spirits, one and all, in the eyes of most.
And now, I am a new kind of ghost, one that talks from beyond the bounds you set, just leaving the last bits of my efforts I was willing to share out there... on my blogs... for one last dig at those who feared me.
My biggest regret is still this. That my two BEST poems never really took off. One just a tale of something fun and beautiful, which really did happen, the other a social commentary that actually said thanks for the help you gave to others around me. Those were Deerboy on a Bicycle and You Gave Them Keys, respectively. I pointed out when folks did wrong, tried to remain a good member of society, only to be scoffed at.
I could not care less, now. I accept that I am a ghost to you, just vapors most wish to wave their hands through to disperse... but like a ghost, I hope I haunt you. Even now, just days after leaving, you see my words echoing across the ether of cables and wifi, still tickling along, still teasing you to see me... as I walk away into some piece of forlorn land, not to die, but to regroup, and maybe become corporeal again.
Then again, maybe I was always a ghost, a figment of ecto-plasm that never took on flesh. And thus others felt that doing me ill was fine, as I was not real.
>shrug<
I don't know. I only care about one thing. Keep looking for the beauty in the world around you, and do good deeds just to do them, not for fame or adulation. And be at peace, for the aroma of pipe smoke might remind you of the words I once wove, like previous generations found it evoking fond memories of grandfathers long gone.
Just a ghost, something few saw, and when they did, horror and fear came to their eyes, mostly.
I could walk along, and unless you were overly fearful, few would stop to offer aid, ask questions, or even nod, wave, or return the hello's and howdy's I gave, tipping my hat or nodding my head to indicate I still saw you all.
Hell, holding a sign, once, I had someone bitch about me trying to get their attention... over their gas cap still sitting on the trunk before they lost it. (Thankfully, an off duty cop saw why, and kept the heat off me, thanks to that officer, even if he thought I did not know about it.)
Dropping all those job apps, all any one remembers is the lesser amounts of time I spent playing a few games to distract my mind from the waiting, not the number of times I had job boards open, or worked on stories between filing applications, as a back up plan to getting a job.
Few remember the times me and my running mate gave helpful directions around town, expressed interest in events going on, and gave directions to events that failed to lay out some decent signage (a Certain runners' event comes to mind, when as a joke for other homeless, we held up our notebooks as if flying a sign, giving the directions to the registration desk...)
Few remember those three times we changed out flat tires, the kid we talked out of her little escapade of running away, thinking the streets better than a foster home, or the times we carried others gear for them when they were injured or just not well.
We were ghosts, to be exorcised from society, evil spirits, one and all, in the eyes of most.
And now, I am a new kind of ghost, one that talks from beyond the bounds you set, just leaving the last bits of my efforts I was willing to share out there... on my blogs... for one last dig at those who feared me.
My biggest regret is still this. That my two BEST poems never really took off. One just a tale of something fun and beautiful, which really did happen, the other a social commentary that actually said thanks for the help you gave to others around me. Those were Deerboy on a Bicycle and You Gave Them Keys, respectively. I pointed out when folks did wrong, tried to remain a good member of society, only to be scoffed at.
I could not care less, now. I accept that I am a ghost to you, just vapors most wish to wave their hands through to disperse... but like a ghost, I hope I haunt you. Even now, just days after leaving, you see my words echoing across the ether of cables and wifi, still tickling along, still teasing you to see me... as I walk away into some piece of forlorn land, not to die, but to regroup, and maybe become corporeal again.
Then again, maybe I was always a ghost, a figment of ecto-plasm that never took on flesh. And thus others felt that doing me ill was fine, as I was not real.
>shrug<
I don't know. I only care about one thing. Keep looking for the beauty in the world around you, and do good deeds just to do them, not for fame or adulation. And be at peace, for the aroma of pipe smoke might remind you of the words I once wove, like previous generations found it evoking fond memories of grandfathers long gone.
Sunday, September 21, 2014
A last rant, or three, before the silence falls
Several rants will drop after I lose my internet connection, scheduled in advance.
But only a few really matter. Like this one.
Folks like to call me lazy, say I'm just here with my hand out for freebies.
If this was true, then why did I not file immediately for unemployment, but instead live on what little savings I had, trying to find a job? If this is true, why have I never collected unemployment in my life? If this is true, why is it I not only drove on, keep filing job applications, instead of trying to find some loophole, like many others do, to collect the various funds for disabilities that can be real, or imagined?
All I asked of society was a job. Denied that, I was reduced to holding a sign to survive, to even use a bathroom first thing in the morning, many times.
So, here it is. Who is lazy, the guy who runs through his savings to survive off the dole, or that idiot who files each time, gets money each time, and then complains about others milking the very system they bitch about?
Have others in my family gotten such help? Yeah, but they are not me. I'm the dude who took his lumps, and stood his ground to get back on his feet each time. Not the fools who bitch about what others get, then takes the same thing, saying "but *I* deserve it.
Ask yourself this, folks. If I'm lazy, what the hell does that say about you, if you ever received the aid I was denied or eschewed?
Besides, it no longer matters. I've made a hellish choice, one that will set me at odds with everyone soon. You see, I no longer see a reason to remain part of a nation and society that kicks folks aside, just because it makes others profit, or to feel better.
Yeah, "Man Without a Country" time, people. My country turned its back on me, I turn mine on it. You can all go your merry way to Hell, floating along the toxic streams of media you like to spew at each other in that leaky hand-basket of your silly beliefs. Me, I'm headed into some hills, to leave you all to sink. I suggest those that intrude upon my solitude not get hurt or in a bind. After all, why should I help you if you do. The only reason I see for such is meeting the eyes in the mirror, and like most of you, I'm tired of doing that, so I'm not taking one with me.
But only a few really matter. Like this one.
Folks like to call me lazy, say I'm just here with my hand out for freebies.
If this was true, then why did I not file immediately for unemployment, but instead live on what little savings I had, trying to find a job? If this is true, why have I never collected unemployment in my life? If this is true, why is it I not only drove on, keep filing job applications, instead of trying to find some loophole, like many others do, to collect the various funds for disabilities that can be real, or imagined?
All I asked of society was a job. Denied that, I was reduced to holding a sign to survive, to even use a bathroom first thing in the morning, many times.
So, here it is. Who is lazy, the guy who runs through his savings to survive off the dole, or that idiot who files each time, gets money each time, and then complains about others milking the very system they bitch about?
Have others in my family gotten such help? Yeah, but they are not me. I'm the dude who took his lumps, and stood his ground to get back on his feet each time. Not the fools who bitch about what others get, then takes the same thing, saying "but *I* deserve it.
Ask yourself this, folks. If I'm lazy, what the hell does that say about you, if you ever received the aid I was denied or eschewed?
Besides, it no longer matters. I've made a hellish choice, one that will set me at odds with everyone soon. You see, I no longer see a reason to remain part of a nation and society that kicks folks aside, just because it makes others profit, or to feel better.
Yeah, "Man Without a Country" time, people. My country turned its back on me, I turn mine on it. You can all go your merry way to Hell, floating along the toxic streams of media you like to spew at each other in that leaky hand-basket of your silly beliefs. Me, I'm headed into some hills, to leave you all to sink. I suggest those that intrude upon my solitude not get hurt or in a bind. After all, why should I help you if you do. The only reason I see for such is meeting the eyes in the mirror, and like most of you, I'm tired of doing that, so I'm not taking one with me.
Thursday, September 18, 2014
Unreasonable...?
Folks often say I'm being unreasonable when I draw a line in the sand, and say: "No more." What they fail to see is how far I have already, by that point, compromised my personal beliefs, giving way to their will.
So, as I wrap up my last few days in a Society I find to be unreasoning, lacking in the ability to compromise with me, I have to make a few last jabs at the inflated egos that needled me that way, over the years.
Where were my compromises? Gee, let's take a look.
I have long held that Saturday was MY Sabbath, but few ever honored that belief, demanding I not only work my Sabbath day, but theirs as well, to cover for their never showing for a shift or job. Which I did, yes, while complaining, but I did it.
I used to have a copy of a one week pay stub with one hundred hours on it. Yeah, I work overtime, many times to the detriment of my health, mental and physical. I did it, but pushed for a reduction in over-utilization of resources, as humans have limits, both socially set, and physical.
I rarely took all my time off at companies, not from lack of desire, but lack of opportunity. You see, someone had to cover other folks' time off to relax, and it far too often was me.
Politically, few hold the same views I do, so when I raised mine, and got slapped around for them, or objected to others jamming theirs down my throat through intimidation or threats, they screamed I was insane. Well, you folks are all getting your ways, so I'll just sit back, trying to resist the urge to say: "Saw that coming." when your house of cards collapses.
There are many such events. Folks tell me to stop lying, then turn around to urge me to lie if that is what it takes to get a job... fools. Don't you see that is where the issue is, that your society is then built on lies, and truth becomes just something no one ever wants to hear?
There are many more issues, where others were just as unreasonable as me. But one stands out in my mind, right now, being so close in time.
Is it really so unreasonable to think hiring the guy who never got a dime of Unemployment, over some one who already has a job, but just feels the need to jump for another, is fair?
Think about that one. I know I do, and my conclusions about those who passed me over, well, to say the least, be glad I will not sit as judge or jury, come that fabled Judgement Day so many boast of being able to bypass through just believing in certain things, not living them.
We are at WA minus eleven days, and counting. Not a very big window of opportunity left to change my mind about walking away, to be the modern "Man Without a Country".
So, as I wrap up my last few days in a Society I find to be unreasoning, lacking in the ability to compromise with me, I have to make a few last jabs at the inflated egos that needled me that way, over the years.
Where were my compromises? Gee, let's take a look.
I have long held that Saturday was MY Sabbath, but few ever honored that belief, demanding I not only work my Sabbath day, but theirs as well, to cover for their never showing for a shift or job. Which I did, yes, while complaining, but I did it.
I used to have a copy of a one week pay stub with one hundred hours on it. Yeah, I work overtime, many times to the detriment of my health, mental and physical. I did it, but pushed for a reduction in over-utilization of resources, as humans have limits, both socially set, and physical.
I rarely took all my time off at companies, not from lack of desire, but lack of opportunity. You see, someone had to cover other folks' time off to relax, and it far too often was me.
Politically, few hold the same views I do, so when I raised mine, and got slapped around for them, or objected to others jamming theirs down my throat through intimidation or threats, they screamed I was insane. Well, you folks are all getting your ways, so I'll just sit back, trying to resist the urge to say: "Saw that coming." when your house of cards collapses.
There are many such events. Folks tell me to stop lying, then turn around to urge me to lie if that is what it takes to get a job... fools. Don't you see that is where the issue is, that your society is then built on lies, and truth becomes just something no one ever wants to hear?
There are many more issues, where others were just as unreasonable as me. But one stands out in my mind, right now, being so close in time.
Is it really so unreasonable to think hiring the guy who never got a dime of Unemployment, over some one who already has a job, but just feels the need to jump for another, is fair?
Think about that one. I know I do, and my conclusions about those who passed me over, well, to say the least, be glad I will not sit as judge or jury, come that fabled Judgement Day so many boast of being able to bypass through just believing in certain things, not living them.
We are at WA minus eleven days, and counting. Not a very big window of opportunity left to change my mind about walking away, to be the modern "Man Without a Country".
Wednesday, September 17, 2014
PO'd, don't care who knows it....
AS you may have noted, if you've seen my other blogs, I'm burning off steam by jamming my writings out there, the ones everyone said not to move on with, not out of worry about my ego or how good or bad they were, but out of their own perceptions that I spend too much time writing this fiction..
Hell, the job applications might as well have been fiction, for all the good those 8000 final clicks and paper drops have yielded. At least most publishers have the decency to send a rejection letter. Employers these days rarely do that, even if you interviewed for the job.
So, Yeah, I got pissed off, when something got back to me... words some thought never would...
And I'm doing this to show there was something being worked on most of the time. Yes, I spent a goodly amount of time staring off into space or smoking my pipe, but that was to reflect on what went wrong in the stories or the job applications, not just being a bum.
And, an equal amount of time went to scavenging for food, and holding a sign the last two years, for any scrap of cash to get a hot cup of morning coffee, that pipe tobacco (all too often the cheaper, nastier cigarette rolling baccy, yech!).
My patience is at an end. No one let me take the time needed to set up the back up plan, cleaning these stories up enough to ask 99 cents for them, of which I would have only seen 30 cents, and then only if enough sold to add up to 100 bucks....
That was to be my coffee money, donuts once a week, and baccy cash, so I would not have to hold a sign, and be a true bum, after what I made so far this year ran out, if no job materialized.
So, you got your wish, so-called friends and the members of the family who bad mouthed me from a vast distance.... I got pissed off, tossed it all away, just like always... but with a twist... this time, I merely burned the rights and potential revenue, not the tales. Hmmmm. cagey? could be.
Hell, the job applications might as well have been fiction, for all the good those 8000 final clicks and paper drops have yielded. At least most publishers have the decency to send a rejection letter. Employers these days rarely do that, even if you interviewed for the job.
So, Yeah, I got pissed off, when something got back to me... words some thought never would...
And I'm doing this to show there was something being worked on most of the time. Yes, I spent a goodly amount of time staring off into space or smoking my pipe, but that was to reflect on what went wrong in the stories or the job applications, not just being a bum.
And, an equal amount of time went to scavenging for food, and holding a sign the last two years, for any scrap of cash to get a hot cup of morning coffee, that pipe tobacco (all too often the cheaper, nastier cigarette rolling baccy, yech!).
My patience is at an end. No one let me take the time needed to set up the back up plan, cleaning these stories up enough to ask 99 cents for them, of which I would have only seen 30 cents, and then only if enough sold to add up to 100 bucks....
That was to be my coffee money, donuts once a week, and baccy cash, so I would not have to hold a sign, and be a true bum, after what I made so far this year ran out, if no job materialized.
So, you got your wish, so-called friends and the members of the family who bad mouthed me from a vast distance.... I got pissed off, tossed it all away, just like always... but with a twist... this time, I merely burned the rights and potential revenue, not the tales. Hmmmm. cagey? could be.
Friday, September 12, 2014
A brief talk about my history on the web, and before it.
I've been around for a while, actually. Longer than most remember, or know of.
The Private Island Kingdom, my first "site", actually was an old dial-up BBS, where I just poked fun at life, running a place where me and some friends with computers, which were not as common then, could have some fun role-playing out life on a small island, where I was Dyfedd Rex et Solo, Deo gratis por miraclae pica. King David, the only, thank God for that small miracle. I made wild proclamations, accused folks of having their pirates raid my sacred sarsaparilla cellar for my root beer float fixings, and they defended the actions of themselves and their crews against such, all done tongue in cheek, in good nature, and for fun.
Nowadays, I'm much more cynical, less patient, and don't share the place. In other words, you can read my proclamations, but only I get to make such.
Sometimes, I miss the old days. When I ruled an imaginary island.
today is such a day.
So, in memory of that time.....
Yeah, time for a little fun.
From: His Royal Nastiness, Dyfedd Rex et solo (Deo Graits por miracla!)
To: All Visitors to the Island.
Re: Flirting with the Amazonian Imaginary Girlfriend Cohort.
It has come to mine attention that thou tourists art flirting outrageously with mine royal guards, distracting them from their duties of keeping us safe and entertained by their skimpy chain mail bikinis.
Remember, these art mine employees, and not thine! Distracting them from their duties is a serious breach of the trust extended to thee in allowing docking of thy pirate ships down at the wharfs of LawShark Cove, and grounds for unleashing mine worst weapons upon thee!
Also, it doth further come to mine attention that some scurvy dog pirate hath entered the Cellar of the Sacred Sarsaparilla again, absconding with mine secret float recipes, a growler of mine favorite nectar of the gods, and half a gallon of mint chip ice cream, sans the green dyes. If mine hands find that sea-dog's neck, he shalt surely pay a high price. Thereby, for this theft, and the blasphemy of dating two of mine royal guardians, we hereby and forthwith lay a price on the toupee of Jolly Roger, of six chocolate doubloons.
Writ this day by mine own hand, as thou who fly under the black flag hath absconded with the one wench in my retinue willing to do calligraphy for me,
Dyfedd Rex, King of the Private Island Kingdom.
I feel better already.
The Private Island Kingdom, my first "site", actually was an old dial-up BBS, where I just poked fun at life, running a place where me and some friends with computers, which were not as common then, could have some fun role-playing out life on a small island, where I was Dyfedd Rex et Solo, Deo gratis por miraclae pica. King David, the only, thank God for that small miracle. I made wild proclamations, accused folks of having their pirates raid my sacred sarsaparilla cellar for my root beer float fixings, and they defended the actions of themselves and their crews against such, all done tongue in cheek, in good nature, and for fun.
Nowadays, I'm much more cynical, less patient, and don't share the place. In other words, you can read my proclamations, but only I get to make such.
Sometimes, I miss the old days. When I ruled an imaginary island.
today is such a day.
So, in memory of that time.....
Yeah, time for a little fun.
From: His Royal Nastiness, Dyfedd Rex et solo (Deo Graits por miracla!)
To: All Visitors to the Island.
Re: Flirting with the Amazonian Imaginary Girlfriend Cohort.
It has come to mine attention that thou tourists art flirting outrageously with mine royal guards, distracting them from their duties of keeping us safe and entertained by their skimpy chain mail bikinis.
Remember, these art mine employees, and not thine! Distracting them from their duties is a serious breach of the trust extended to thee in allowing docking of thy pirate ships down at the wharfs of LawShark Cove, and grounds for unleashing mine worst weapons upon thee!
Also, it doth further come to mine attention that some scurvy dog pirate hath entered the Cellar of the Sacred Sarsaparilla again, absconding with mine secret float recipes, a growler of mine favorite nectar of the gods, and half a gallon of mint chip ice cream, sans the green dyes. If mine hands find that sea-dog's neck, he shalt surely pay a high price. Thereby, for this theft, and the blasphemy of dating two of mine royal guardians, we hereby and forthwith lay a price on the toupee of Jolly Roger, of six chocolate doubloons.
Writ this day by mine own hand, as thou who fly under the black flag hath absconded with the one wench in my retinue willing to do calligraphy for me,
Dyfedd Rex, King of the Private Island Kingdom.
I feel better already.
Five year plans, and why I screw them up.
I just had a rather heated discussion with a friend, who knows me well, about how I should just pick some piece of crap five year plan that folks asking that question in job interviews want to hear, and use it.
My problem, what those folks want to hear, would be a lie. Yes, I'd love to spend five years at a company, the problem, about the only jobs I feel able to land in this day and age, five years would be a white flag flapping loud in a gale that flipping burgers would be my life. Did enough of that growing up, in my parents cafe as a teenager.
Look, after what I've been through the last few years, the only two five year plans I have still turn folks off, even with the positive spin put on them, which is a bit of a white lie.
1. To make just enough money off my writings to fund certain fun parts (to me) of my life, like, say eating out with a friend every few months, or going on a vacation (a real one, not a job search or scouting mission, which all but one of my vacations were).
and
2: To actually be at a company five years down the road, without it or me having crossed any legal issues or moral/ethics issues that make one, the other, or both sides want to end it before then.
Yeah. Most times, either I crossed some line, or the company or co-worker did, and it left me out of work. Why? Some friends still remember this phrase, uttered at Green Street (a now defunct bar in Salt Lake City) a decade ago. "I have standards." Actually, more like moral values I am not willing to break for anyone, even if the only folks who like me think I need to, as they do.
I see no advancement, no schooling, not a hint of a chance to improve my situation in life until I have some foundation to build it back upon. Foolish as that may be, think about it. How can you make a plan without being in a position to actually have it come true? Yes, you hear all the stories about how folks overcome such adversity, but how often do they sacrifice their moral values to do it? Considerably more than you think.
So, what plan could I lay out, in what strange way to pitch it, keeping my cynicism in check? That requires thinking, which in my case, links these days to writing. Well, okay, it always has, I just actually toss such things out there now, to show folks that not all my computer time is spent playing games, on social media, or surfing the web.
Breaking it down, honestly, not lying about the plan, would be the hard part. '
Let me try one out on you, who read this blog (or stumbled upon it, and made it this far before yawning and wandering off into more steamy, lurid areas of the web, filled with celebrity gossip and sleazy photos.
the new plan(?): To be a writer and worker, respected and fairly compensated for his work in both realms, and keeping a balanced life between those careers and a small social life.
The only lie there is I want more than a small social life, but at my age, small is better than none, and I went that route several times in my life. Not happy times, and if you think I'm a grumpy old codger now, you should have crossed paths with me when I had no social life.
Would that pitch work? Could I get away with just that much? Doubt it. They always want details. So, expanding it just a touch, you get. And that fairly compensated bit makes me sound greedy or leftist, which I am not. Not to mention the small part makes folks think I
To be a published author, respected poet, solid employee, and still a good friend to those who helped me along the way. For there to be a bit of money each month left over after the bills and a few pleasures to stash away something for retirement. I hope to find myself in a secure enough position to feel the risk of investments is not a crushing burden it is now, to be in a nice place to live, and have my small moments of quiet, out under the stars enjoying their night-show some evenings, sipping a favorite beverage and savoring the moment without worries of is it my last for a long while.
Still stretches the truth, as I don't see the investments part ever happening again, as I always seem to loose out more in the markets than at a race track or casino, the few times I've hit those (still up on that kind of gambling and way down in the stock picking games).
Maybe I could pitch that one, but will my face stay straight? I doubt it. But at least the guy in the mirror won't be too harsh on me for that kind of fudging the facts. Then again, my harshest judge is not those around me, or supporting me, but him, over in the reverse land of reflections. Better take out the investment part.
God knows, the only stock I feel comfy risking cash if I had it, better have some dividend, and be something I use just enough of to get back at least half what I spend on their products each year.
My problem, what those folks want to hear, would be a lie. Yes, I'd love to spend five years at a company, the problem, about the only jobs I feel able to land in this day and age, five years would be a white flag flapping loud in a gale that flipping burgers would be my life. Did enough of that growing up, in my parents cafe as a teenager.
Look, after what I've been through the last few years, the only two five year plans I have still turn folks off, even with the positive spin put on them, which is a bit of a white lie.
1. To make just enough money off my writings to fund certain fun parts (to me) of my life, like, say eating out with a friend every few months, or going on a vacation (a real one, not a job search or scouting mission, which all but one of my vacations were).
and
2: To actually be at a company five years down the road, without it or me having crossed any legal issues or moral/ethics issues that make one, the other, or both sides want to end it before then.
Yeah. Most times, either I crossed some line, or the company or co-worker did, and it left me out of work. Why? Some friends still remember this phrase, uttered at Green Street (a now defunct bar in Salt Lake City) a decade ago. "I have standards." Actually, more like moral values I am not willing to break for anyone, even if the only folks who like me think I need to, as they do.
I see no advancement, no schooling, not a hint of a chance to improve my situation in life until I have some foundation to build it back upon. Foolish as that may be, think about it. How can you make a plan without being in a position to actually have it come true? Yes, you hear all the stories about how folks overcome such adversity, but how often do they sacrifice their moral values to do it? Considerably more than you think.
So, what plan could I lay out, in what strange way to pitch it, keeping my cynicism in check? That requires thinking, which in my case, links these days to writing. Well, okay, it always has, I just actually toss such things out there now, to show folks that not all my computer time is spent playing games, on social media, or surfing the web.
Breaking it down, honestly, not lying about the plan, would be the hard part. '
Let me try one out on you, who read this blog (or stumbled upon it, and made it this far before yawning and wandering off into more steamy, lurid areas of the web, filled with celebrity gossip and sleazy photos.
the new plan(?): To be a writer and worker, respected and fairly compensated for his work in both realms, and keeping a balanced life between those careers and a small social life.
The only lie there is I want more than a small social life, but at my age, small is better than none, and I went that route several times in my life. Not happy times, and if you think I'm a grumpy old codger now, you should have crossed paths with me when I had no social life.
Would that pitch work? Could I get away with just that much? Doubt it. They always want details. So, expanding it just a touch, you get. And that fairly compensated bit makes me sound greedy or leftist, which I am not. Not to mention the small part makes folks think I
To be a published author, respected poet, solid employee, and still a good friend to those who helped me along the way. For there to be a bit of money each month left over after the bills and a few pleasures to stash away something for retirement. I hope to find myself in a secure enough position to feel the risk of investments is not a crushing burden it is now, to be in a nice place to live, and have my small moments of quiet, out under the stars enjoying their night-show some evenings, sipping a favorite beverage and savoring the moment without worries of is it my last for a long while.
Still stretches the truth, as I don't see the investments part ever happening again, as I always seem to loose out more in the markets than at a race track or casino, the few times I've hit those (still up on that kind of gambling and way down in the stock picking games).
Maybe I could pitch that one, but will my face stay straight? I doubt it. But at least the guy in the mirror won't be too harsh on me for that kind of fudging the facts. Then again, my harshest judge is not those around me, or supporting me, but him, over in the reverse land of reflections. Better take out the investment part.
God knows, the only stock I feel comfy risking cash if I had it, better have some dividend, and be something I use just enough of to get back at least half what I spend on their products each year.
Wednesday, September 3, 2014
Some thoughts.
Having shot off my mouth yesterday, I find the urge to do so again riding high.
So, The complainer is back. But, with some exposition of his stances on things.
Today, I'm on my normal tear against politics. Murky waters you can walk across, if you have the guts and spare clothes to don after finding one of the barely crusted over areas, slide into the mud those folks sling, which is mostly manure, not mud.
Face it, our political system is broken. This is not the first time we've had to fix it, but other than after the two big periods of civil unrest, that was mostly preventative maintenance, not "oh crap, we ruined it" moments.
I keep hearing folks gripe about mob rule, screaming about corporate rule, about everything under the sun. And not a single thing I've seen set forward actually fixes the real problem, the voter apathy problems that in the end keep the status quo.
The source of this is something society has to fix in itself, not in our politics. It is the culture of extremist views, not just left, not just right, that drive our politics, and condemn the middle ground folks as "wafflers" or "gutless".
Takes more guts to wade in, find something that makes both sides unhappy, but works than it does to stand on the sidelines screaming, people. Far more guts. Yes, sometimes an extreme view is needed, but not on every damned issue, like so often happens of late.
We need a third, maybe even a few other, parties, with clout, guts, and determination.
So, The complainer is back. But, with some exposition of his stances on things.
Today, I'm on my normal tear against politics. Murky waters you can walk across, if you have the guts and spare clothes to don after finding one of the barely crusted over areas, slide into the mud those folks sling, which is mostly manure, not mud.
Face it, our political system is broken. This is not the first time we've had to fix it, but other than after the two big periods of civil unrest, that was mostly preventative maintenance, not "oh crap, we ruined it" moments.
I keep hearing folks gripe about mob rule, screaming about corporate rule, about everything under the sun. And not a single thing I've seen set forward actually fixes the real problem, the voter apathy problems that in the end keep the status quo.
The source of this is something society has to fix in itself, not in our politics. It is the culture of extremist views, not just left, not just right, that drive our politics, and condemn the middle ground folks as "wafflers" or "gutless".
Takes more guts to wade in, find something that makes both sides unhappy, but works than it does to stand on the sidelines screaming, people. Far more guts. Yes, sometimes an extreme view is needed, but not on every damned issue, like so often happens of late.
We need a third, maybe even a few other, parties, with clout, guts, and determination.
Tuesday, September 2, 2014
Been a while
After a long summer, in which things at last began to turn around for me, I have some complaining still left in me. Not about the big issues, but little ones. Which make up those big ones.
Look, it only requires a few minutes to use your head, and hold back the road rage. Case in point, the unknown woman who screamed at my buddy and me, when stuck in the intersection after the yellow light, 'cause another jerk just had to race the red and win, we took a few extra seconds to move the FULLY LOADED TRAILER behind that under-powered Subaru on the left turn. My point, don't scream at the other victims. Save that for the jerks who never caught Gallagher in the days he harped on the real problem. "Three people turn left on the yellow!" seems to have never spread out of the 80's, sadly.
So, watch who you yell at, folks. After all, there might be a blogger with rage of their own you scream profanities at, only to find yourself outed to all as the very word you screeched, foolishly, at the other victim, who only wanted to avoid the folks in the straight on lanes from t-boning them.
Well, that is all. Yeah, getting a place to stay inside at has mellowed me. For now. I'm positive some moron politician will raise my ire soon, or pundit, perchance a idiot driver or dozen score.
Remember, I'm out there, I blog, and sometimes, I even yield to temptations, such as posting the license plates of such fools.
Look, it only requires a few minutes to use your head, and hold back the road rage. Case in point, the unknown woman who screamed at my buddy and me, when stuck in the intersection after the yellow light, 'cause another jerk just had to race the red and win, we took a few extra seconds to move the FULLY LOADED TRAILER behind that under-powered Subaru on the left turn. My point, don't scream at the other victims. Save that for the jerks who never caught Gallagher in the days he harped on the real problem. "Three people turn left on the yellow!" seems to have never spread out of the 80's, sadly.
So, watch who you yell at, folks. After all, there might be a blogger with rage of their own you scream profanities at, only to find yourself outed to all as the very word you screeched, foolishly, at the other victim, who only wanted to avoid the folks in the straight on lanes from t-boning them.
Well, that is all. Yeah, getting a place to stay inside at has mellowed me. For now. I'm positive some moron politician will raise my ire soon, or pundit, perchance a idiot driver or dozen score.
Remember, I'm out there, I blog, and sometimes, I even yield to temptations, such as posting the license plates of such fools.
Friday, April 11, 2014
Finally Speaking Out on an Issue.
I've threatened to say this stuff for a damned long time, now. And, my silence should not be classified as fear or enforced. I was waiting. Choosing the moment when folks should fear themselves that I would point certain things out, even if only using a dim flashlight to do it. And folks, the long break is intentional, to keep the worst of my insulting those responsible, those who are supposed to watch over them, and just anyone with "delicate ears/eyes" from reading the worst of my vitriol. (Relax, if you're worried about swearing, the sulfur-smelling flames of the after-world are about it, that way, but I will not pull my punches on the fancier insults, and more demeaning ones. Considering I have taken far worse when forced to panhandle, you best learn to take some of it back.)
Welcome to Spring, Salt Lake City. Before you complain about the number of homeless people sleeping out in sidewalks, parks, street margins, and the like, realize this. Once more, after saying they would be keeping the family shelter open, they did not. So that migration of the families from the Midvale annex back down to the main Road Home is on, and with it, 350 beds are gone for the men ovewr the last 45 days. I have no clue how many the women's side lost this year, I try not to deal with many of the females, not being a snob, just not desiring any entanglements that could lead to more troubles. Got enough on my plate keeping myself alive.
So, with that annual cut, the common citizen, being a bunch of clueless idiots, scream about the ebb and flow through the areas the homeless seek for some sleep, not realizing where the real issue lies.
Your pathetic math skills. Yes, I am being insulting, but face it, you have 589 beds for the guys (last year's count, have no clue how many they offered over the winter just fading into our memories, to avoid the crime and drug usage down there, I camped out) take away 350, leaves 239, of which about a hundred are the ones reserved for the workers program (which is a joke, as guys with jobs less than 40 per week are not qualified for it, as some getting 36/wk got refused even being listed, from what I've been hearing) and the medical beds (the bulk of that count, and another joke, as some of those are taken by folks better off in an institution. But, oh, we cannot expose those folks to kleptomaniacs and those prone to violent outbursts!) Yeah. And, that does not count those who slept on the hallway floors, or in the "Drunk Tank: over the winter, which does happen, not just on the worst nights, but most, during the winter. Yeah, that closes Sunday the 13th, which means the worst problem after the drug-addicts is loose as well.
So, 139 beds, or there-about, depending upon this year's arrangements of the bunks in the dorms. Less than years before, as last summer, they cut the legendary "Big Dorm" in half for families to occupy. Which, while it cut some of the issues (but reports, as I left before that was done, say it merely concentrated the odor issues from the less hygienically inclined denizens), probably, just jams it out into your streets, neighborhoods, and the rest of the downtown area. Not to mention those who flee into the foothills, canyons, and down to the Jordan River and various waterways feeding to it.
Why?
What the Hell do you think? There is NOT some magical doorway to Never-Never Land we get to walk into each year, come the good weather, when those more fortunate's pockets seal up, or the funds get siphoned off somewhere, for us to leave your world! If you think other-wise, you need a head shrink, or have an IQ smaller than your waist size. Cutting beds does not mean the problems are ended, just some bean-counter does not want to have money he's getting for auditing the place (which, by the way, is that how a charity should work? that you charge it for helping it?) to fade away.
If you need to cry about losing your city's safety, go look in a mirror first. Some of the homeless would love nothing more than to get out, and I have seen a boatload of folks take advantage of that. Promising money for odd-jobs, then stiffing them (and yes, some of the guys who do work for contractors get stiffed as well, from reports), denying them jobs because they have no stable address history, and other malarkey. Stop coddling the users and abuser of the systems, and do some real, targeted help to those who are clean, sober and sick of being stuck down there, despite every effort they make. And, no, not all homeless folks are bums looking for handouts and free housing, or that disability check. Some actually will take steps, once free of the chains being homeless lays on them, to prevent returning.
And, seeing's how I mentioned the shelter by name, boys and girls down there, there is a video and set of pictures supposedly circulating, time stamped, among some of the homeless (which, if I had access to, I'd slam onto some other folks about to be mentioned, but I'm only reporting rumors, not something I've seen, as to those pictures. I do know, that you do this, even got you to admit it once before, and some former staff confessed as well, after leaving), of the staff taking the dirty blankets and folding them back up to hand out as clean again. This is ridiculous. So, who would want to rent to or hire some poor person who, while being stuck subject to your "tender mercies" (yeah, that is sarcasm dripping thick there, folks), gets infected with lice because of this! Even I know when you do this stupid crap. One only needs watch the sudden explosion of those infested, even the most meticulously clean, to know that something happened. And, the City, County and State Health Departments need keep a better eye on this kind of crap, not give it the ol' "it's just the homeless" blind-eye to the violations. (I know some of these latter, and might make them embarrassed by naming names, or worse, tossing them into said buckets of dirty blankets after shanghai-ing them next time I hear about it, to prove you cannot warn the criminals that you are coming, it only gives them time to clean up and kiss your butts with lies.)
So, wakey-wakey, folks. You want someone to blame? Ask the folks supposedly running things, as to how they never seem to have a decent plan in place for this. And then look in the mirror. Everyone shares some of the blame on this kind of thing.
One last bit. If folks tell you that they plan to end homelessness, get out the hip-waders. The best that will ever occur is keeping the numbers down, not end it. Face it, our ancestors were all homeless, that is why we came to America, a nation built by the homeless folks who immigrated here, one home at a time. And, don't say we never valued the homeless. We still idolize some. Many of the cowboys of the Old West, well, the drifted, homeless, from job-to-job, working a season here, a drive there, then drifting about, looking for something. If you buy and read westerns, you glorify the homeless cowboy, miner, or explorers who were just that, without a home, until they settled down, or died. The homeless have a better lineage than the homed, in a sense. When you read our roll-call of past members, you'll find a folks like a couple tossed out of a garden of legends, a guy who your God handed some stone tablets too (and all his people, too), a dude who dunked folks in the Jordan River of the Middle-East, and his carpenter cousin (What's his name? You know, that wanderer from Nazareth, by the Sea of Galilee?). And don't forget, the folks on the Mayflower, Davy Crockett, Daniel Boone, Kit Carson, and slew of others we hold up as American Icons.
This ends today's rant, but this war will go on. And, if you don't like me talking up, look to your hole cards, folks. The drifter at the other side, he might be holding something special, say pocket bullets or a suited marriage, to use some poker parlance.
Welcome to Spring, Salt Lake City. Before you complain about the number of homeless people sleeping out in sidewalks, parks, street margins, and the like, realize this. Once more, after saying they would be keeping the family shelter open, they did not. So that migration of the families from the Midvale annex back down to the main Road Home is on, and with it, 350 beds are gone for the men ovewr the last 45 days. I have no clue how many the women's side lost this year, I try not to deal with many of the females, not being a snob, just not desiring any entanglements that could lead to more troubles. Got enough on my plate keeping myself alive.
So, with that annual cut, the common citizen, being a bunch of clueless idiots, scream about the ebb and flow through the areas the homeless seek for some sleep, not realizing where the real issue lies.
Your pathetic math skills. Yes, I am being insulting, but face it, you have 589 beds for the guys (last year's count, have no clue how many they offered over the winter just fading into our memories, to avoid the crime and drug usage down there, I camped out) take away 350, leaves 239, of which about a hundred are the ones reserved for the workers program (which is a joke, as guys with jobs less than 40 per week are not qualified for it, as some getting 36/wk got refused even being listed, from what I've been hearing) and the medical beds (the bulk of that count, and another joke, as some of those are taken by folks better off in an institution. But, oh, we cannot expose those folks to kleptomaniacs and those prone to violent outbursts!) Yeah. And, that does not count those who slept on the hallway floors, or in the "Drunk Tank: over the winter, which does happen, not just on the worst nights, but most, during the winter. Yeah, that closes Sunday the 13th, which means the worst problem after the drug-addicts is loose as well.
So, 139 beds, or there-about, depending upon this year's arrangements of the bunks in the dorms. Less than years before, as last summer, they cut the legendary "Big Dorm" in half for families to occupy. Which, while it cut some of the issues (but reports, as I left before that was done, say it merely concentrated the odor issues from the less hygienically inclined denizens), probably, just jams it out into your streets, neighborhoods, and the rest of the downtown area. Not to mention those who flee into the foothills, canyons, and down to the Jordan River and various waterways feeding to it.
Why?
What the Hell do you think? There is NOT some magical doorway to Never-Never Land we get to walk into each year, come the good weather, when those more fortunate's pockets seal up, or the funds get siphoned off somewhere, for us to leave your world! If you think other-wise, you need a head shrink, or have an IQ smaller than your waist size. Cutting beds does not mean the problems are ended, just some bean-counter does not want to have money he's getting for auditing the place (which, by the way, is that how a charity should work? that you charge it for helping it?) to fade away.
If you need to cry about losing your city's safety, go look in a mirror first. Some of the homeless would love nothing more than to get out, and I have seen a boatload of folks take advantage of that. Promising money for odd-jobs, then stiffing them (and yes, some of the guys who do work for contractors get stiffed as well, from reports), denying them jobs because they have no stable address history, and other malarkey. Stop coddling the users and abuser of the systems, and do some real, targeted help to those who are clean, sober and sick of being stuck down there, despite every effort they make. And, no, not all homeless folks are bums looking for handouts and free housing, or that disability check. Some actually will take steps, once free of the chains being homeless lays on them, to prevent returning.
And, seeing's how I mentioned the shelter by name, boys and girls down there, there is a video and set of pictures supposedly circulating, time stamped, among some of the homeless (which, if I had access to, I'd slam onto some other folks about to be mentioned, but I'm only reporting rumors, not something I've seen, as to those pictures. I do know, that you do this, even got you to admit it once before, and some former staff confessed as well, after leaving), of the staff taking the dirty blankets and folding them back up to hand out as clean again. This is ridiculous. So, who would want to rent to or hire some poor person who, while being stuck subject to your "tender mercies" (yeah, that is sarcasm dripping thick there, folks), gets infected with lice because of this! Even I know when you do this stupid crap. One only needs watch the sudden explosion of those infested, even the most meticulously clean, to know that something happened. And, the City, County and State Health Departments need keep a better eye on this kind of crap, not give it the ol' "it's just the homeless" blind-eye to the violations. (I know some of these latter, and might make them embarrassed by naming names, or worse, tossing them into said buckets of dirty blankets after shanghai-ing them next time I hear about it, to prove you cannot warn the criminals that you are coming, it only gives them time to clean up and kiss your butts with lies.)
So, wakey-wakey, folks. You want someone to blame? Ask the folks supposedly running things, as to how they never seem to have a decent plan in place for this. And then look in the mirror. Everyone shares some of the blame on this kind of thing.
One last bit. If folks tell you that they plan to end homelessness, get out the hip-waders. The best that will ever occur is keeping the numbers down, not end it. Face it, our ancestors were all homeless, that is why we came to America, a nation built by the homeless folks who immigrated here, one home at a time. And, don't say we never valued the homeless. We still idolize some. Many of the cowboys of the Old West, well, the drifted, homeless, from job-to-job, working a season here, a drive there, then drifting about, looking for something. If you buy and read westerns, you glorify the homeless cowboy, miner, or explorers who were just that, without a home, until they settled down, or died. The homeless have a better lineage than the homed, in a sense. When you read our roll-call of past members, you'll find a folks like a couple tossed out of a garden of legends, a guy who your God handed some stone tablets too (and all his people, too), a dude who dunked folks in the Jordan River of the Middle-East, and his carpenter cousin (What's his name? You know, that wanderer from Nazareth, by the Sea of Galilee?). And don't forget, the folks on the Mayflower, Davy Crockett, Daniel Boone, Kit Carson, and slew of others we hold up as American Icons.
This ends today's rant, but this war will go on. And, if you don't like me talking up, look to your hole cards, folks. The drifter at the other side, he might be holding something special, say pocket bullets or a suited marriage, to use some poker parlance.
Monday, April 7, 2014
Sweeping things under the rug ain't solutions, folks.
So... confession time.
The spot I like at the SLC Main Library gave me a rather wonderful, yet terrifying, glimpse into the minds of those who profess they want to help reduce the impact and scope of homeless problems in town, last week.
They had a little conference, of folks from various support agencies, and several things that might help will come from it, but one thing I heard has me wondering if the help providers do as much drugs as the addicts they seek to aid.
Aid and Abet, if what that moron says comes about.
Look, I agree, to reduce the clutter that the families have to muck through along South Rio Grande on Hell's Block, you need to find a way to move all the drug addicts and drunks off the walls of the Road Home and St. Vincent dePaul's buildings, just to make the sidewalks navigable and safe, but creating a "smoking area" where the cops are not to enforce the laws about narcotics and alcohol usage ain't an answer. It's sweeping the filth under a magic carpet, and acting like you solved the problem.
Yes, i do listen, morons. I may not speak, but I figure any "Brainiac" who claims to really want to help the homeless would at least talk to the more upstanding members (e.g. the non-addicts and non-criminals) before tossing out ideas willy-nilly. If folks thought Pioneer Park can be dangerous at times, or any part of the area Hell's Block (which is really more than a block, being the whole of Salt Lake City's skid row, from 200 South to 600 South, between 300 West and 600 West, with various jerrymander sections used by the druggies and drunks spiralling off that area) wait until this idea gets implemented.
Look, the real issues are indeed the need of a place for those who make no efforts to move out of the Shelter or Missions to move on. Targeting the druggies will just move them into the city, spreading east, as they did last year, bringing the crime, filth, and attitudes with them. You do not deal with addiction by creating a place to use and OD, you deal with it by sensible measures, say things like laws and funding for mandatory rehab for addicts and drunks after say six violations, even if not prosecuted... which indicates a pattern of self-abuse and public endangerment. You do it by looking at targeting the dealers that flock around Hell's Block, and taking away the CI's protection, as most of them are freaking dealing shit, feeding the cops their competitors, or those owing them money, instead of giving them a free rein to rule that area.
This idea moves forward, you will still have the fights, the stabbings, the crime, the drug-use, the overdoses, all the problems, just in a place where less of it will be seen, and thus it can escalate faster to much more dangerous levels, ones that will require the cops going in with guns drawn, not just a hand on the holstered sidearm they have to use now.
Wake up, stop feeding the addictions. Yes, we tobacco (which, unlike the narcotics, is legal to use) smokers could use some places to smoke, in peace. But, dammit, stop jamming the narcotics users in with us.
And stop thinking we are just bums who use, no matter our efforts to walk away.
Another, even better target? Yeah, I have one. A goodly number of the homeless in the shelter get an SSI or SSDI check, a GA check, or other assistance. Target that group, which has the monies that fund a good deal of the drug use, and includes many addicts in it, at getting them into some form of housing, thus removing the "Millionaire" (as those who get no funds call these folks) factor from the equation. Yes, many of them have issues that prevent getting normal housing, or desire not to go in with the addicts, drunks, and criminals. Some of those issues are related to felonies they committed, so it locks them out of a vast portion of the housing available, even if those events were not violent, not repeated, and quite a while ago. Finding a better solution towards getting those folks housed will do far more.
Reducing the money down there might just make an appreciable dent in the crimes, narcotics, and other problems. But that answer takes time, effort, and something society seems to lack these days, intestinal fortitude.
And, while I'm ranting a bit, how about doing something more productive than tossing the mentally ill back into the shelters or onto the streets. Right now, there are *3* functioning fecal matter artists smearing their wastes around places in public. In locations that range from public restrooms in the downtown and strip to the UofU restaurants, to public parks, and even lately on the sides of businesses, and enhancements to existing and new graffiti. Sorry to those on the Left who believe in keeping folks as part of Society who are so disturbed to rehabilitate them, and those on the Right too cheap to spend the money to actually solve issues, but these are walking health code violations, and after three offenses need to be locked up long-term, for treatment, true rehabilitation, and never allowed to be left unsupervised afterwards, as their recidivism is too nasty to leave the "art" they preform in the public view, where some kid could wind up touching it, and getting very ill.
So, to those who think we homelss are stupid, lazy, and useless... yes, some are, but this boy just offered you up options for some. For others.... well, real, meaningful, long-term work that comes with a living wage might be an option. Just don't offer it to me. After three years plus of searching for employment, and being denied, I've taken up a new way out, and plan to carry it through. I will write stories, trying to sell them, market my e-books of poetry as well, and just be a thorn in your sides, politically, to remind you that some of your ideas smell as bad as the above mentioned 'aritists" works.
The spot I like at the SLC Main Library gave me a rather wonderful, yet terrifying, glimpse into the minds of those who profess they want to help reduce the impact and scope of homeless problems in town, last week.
They had a little conference, of folks from various support agencies, and several things that might help will come from it, but one thing I heard has me wondering if the help providers do as much drugs as the addicts they seek to aid.
Aid and Abet, if what that moron says comes about.
Look, I agree, to reduce the clutter that the families have to muck through along South Rio Grande on Hell's Block, you need to find a way to move all the drug addicts and drunks off the walls of the Road Home and St. Vincent dePaul's buildings, just to make the sidewalks navigable and safe, but creating a "smoking area" where the cops are not to enforce the laws about narcotics and alcohol usage ain't an answer. It's sweeping the filth under a magic carpet, and acting like you solved the problem.
Yes, i do listen, morons. I may not speak, but I figure any "Brainiac" who claims to really want to help the homeless would at least talk to the more upstanding members (e.g. the non-addicts and non-criminals) before tossing out ideas willy-nilly. If folks thought Pioneer Park can be dangerous at times, or any part of the area Hell's Block (which is really more than a block, being the whole of Salt Lake City's skid row, from 200 South to 600 South, between 300 West and 600 West, with various jerrymander sections used by the druggies and drunks spiralling off that area) wait until this idea gets implemented.
Look, the real issues are indeed the need of a place for those who make no efforts to move out of the Shelter or Missions to move on. Targeting the druggies will just move them into the city, spreading east, as they did last year, bringing the crime, filth, and attitudes with them. You do not deal with addiction by creating a place to use and OD, you deal with it by sensible measures, say things like laws and funding for mandatory rehab for addicts and drunks after say six violations, even if not prosecuted... which indicates a pattern of self-abuse and public endangerment. You do it by looking at targeting the dealers that flock around Hell's Block, and taking away the CI's protection, as most of them are freaking dealing shit, feeding the cops their competitors, or those owing them money, instead of giving them a free rein to rule that area.
This idea moves forward, you will still have the fights, the stabbings, the crime, the drug-use, the overdoses, all the problems, just in a place where less of it will be seen, and thus it can escalate faster to much more dangerous levels, ones that will require the cops going in with guns drawn, not just a hand on the holstered sidearm they have to use now.
Wake up, stop feeding the addictions. Yes, we tobacco (which, unlike the narcotics, is legal to use) smokers could use some places to smoke, in peace. But, dammit, stop jamming the narcotics users in with us.
And stop thinking we are just bums who use, no matter our efforts to walk away.
Another, even better target? Yeah, I have one. A goodly number of the homeless in the shelter get an SSI or SSDI check, a GA check, or other assistance. Target that group, which has the monies that fund a good deal of the drug use, and includes many addicts in it, at getting them into some form of housing, thus removing the "Millionaire" (as those who get no funds call these folks) factor from the equation. Yes, many of them have issues that prevent getting normal housing, or desire not to go in with the addicts, drunks, and criminals. Some of those issues are related to felonies they committed, so it locks them out of a vast portion of the housing available, even if those events were not violent, not repeated, and quite a while ago. Finding a better solution towards getting those folks housed will do far more.
Reducing the money down there might just make an appreciable dent in the crimes, narcotics, and other problems. But that answer takes time, effort, and something society seems to lack these days, intestinal fortitude.
And, while I'm ranting a bit, how about doing something more productive than tossing the mentally ill back into the shelters or onto the streets. Right now, there are *3* functioning fecal matter artists smearing their wastes around places in public. In locations that range from public restrooms in the downtown and strip to the UofU restaurants, to public parks, and even lately on the sides of businesses, and enhancements to existing and new graffiti. Sorry to those on the Left who believe in keeping folks as part of Society who are so disturbed to rehabilitate them, and those on the Right too cheap to spend the money to actually solve issues, but these are walking health code violations, and after three offenses need to be locked up long-term, for treatment, true rehabilitation, and never allowed to be left unsupervised afterwards, as their recidivism is too nasty to leave the "art" they preform in the public view, where some kid could wind up touching it, and getting very ill.
So, to those who think we homelss are stupid, lazy, and useless... yes, some are, but this boy just offered you up options for some. For others.... well, real, meaningful, long-term work that comes with a living wage might be an option. Just don't offer it to me. After three years plus of searching for employment, and being denied, I've taken up a new way out, and plan to carry it through. I will write stories, trying to sell them, market my e-books of poetry as well, and just be a thorn in your sides, politically, to remind you that some of your ideas smell as bad as the above mentioned 'aritists" works.
Tuesday, February 4, 2014
Just a rant about rude e-smokers
Been a while since I ranted here, but I have a bone to pick today, so I guess it's time.
E-cig smokers are a bunch of jerks and snobs.
This comes from an encounter with one yesterday, to total slime bag, who, despite Utah laws now saying you cannot use those devices anywhere that normal smoking is prohibited, had to walk into the library bathroom and use his stupid device. Must have been a total wuss, as it was a wonderful day, at that time, about 40 degrees on the F scale, sunny still, and very little wind. But, these dumb asses, judging by his behavior, not only deserve the right to use their devices anywhere they damned well please.
After I walked out of the can, refusing to be around idiots when they are doing stupid things like that, commenting to take it outside, he waited to get on the elevators later on, catching me on my way OUTSIDE to smoke my pipe in the DESIGNATED Smoking Area here. He created an unpleasant ride down, daring to accost the law-abiding person about how he could use where ever he wanted, and there was nothing I could do about it.
So, I did the honorable thing, advised him that the laws said otherwise, if I caught him doing it again, I would advise the library security of his violation of rules, and shrugged him off.
He had to get the last word, trying to get me to swing on him, I guess. Dumb ass, like I said. But most folks, even this writer, can be at times. Even after I warned him, he pushed, daring me to rat him out. So, I turned my back on him as I got off.... and here is where the arrogant punk proved he was just a bully and coward at heart. He loudly told me to "go get a haircut and shave, you hippie."
Yeah, he made his point, but when I spun and dared him to try, he had to scuttle off to the computers, probably to boast about putting a homeless guy in his place on some social media site. Me, I waited until today, thinking it over....
And here is my conclusion. Ain't it funny how everyone breaks some law, no matter how pure and righteous we all think we are? And why is it okay for one person or one group to break a law, but nobody else can do so?
Why do folks see the hippie, not that other dude, up on the walls of so many homes and churches?
You know, one thing I have learned, being homeless, I am in good company. Moses was homeless. Noah, well, I guess the ark might count as a home to some, but in my judgment, he was homeless. John the Baptist? Homeless. Joseph with that funny coat? Homeless for a while. Lot and Abraham, homeless bums like me, the former several times. Mohammed spent time homeless, that fellow I mentioned earlier about the picture hanging so many places? Trust me, the carpenter from Nazareth did his time preaching homeless.
I ain't a hippie, either. There is only one Grateful Dead song I've ever liked, and all the hippies claim that was the "sell-out" song. Don't do dope, or any drugs beyond my pipe tobacco and coffee (unless donuts and ice cream can be proven to be narcotic substances, which I personally would contest). And, unlike a true hippie, I reject commune life as ideal form of community living.
NOW, when the rest of you can obey the laws, all of them, you can criticize me for having to break laws to survive, as your society, and it is yours, not mine, seems to deem me unworthy of being a member.
Oh, and all you E-smokers? Get your lazy butts outside to smoke. Getting wet and cold is good for you, ya wussies. And if you can't take criticism about your double standards, well, I have a rope you can relieve yourselves on, just let me know when you need it suspended from some tree, no need to return it, either.
E-cig smokers are a bunch of jerks and snobs.
This comes from an encounter with one yesterday, to total slime bag, who, despite Utah laws now saying you cannot use those devices anywhere that normal smoking is prohibited, had to walk into the library bathroom and use his stupid device. Must have been a total wuss, as it was a wonderful day, at that time, about 40 degrees on the F scale, sunny still, and very little wind. But, these dumb asses, judging by his behavior, not only deserve the right to use their devices anywhere they damned well please.
After I walked out of the can, refusing to be around idiots when they are doing stupid things like that, commenting to take it outside, he waited to get on the elevators later on, catching me on my way OUTSIDE to smoke my pipe in the DESIGNATED Smoking Area here. He created an unpleasant ride down, daring to accost the law-abiding person about how he could use where ever he wanted, and there was nothing I could do about it.
So, I did the honorable thing, advised him that the laws said otherwise, if I caught him doing it again, I would advise the library security of his violation of rules, and shrugged him off.
He had to get the last word, trying to get me to swing on him, I guess. Dumb ass, like I said. But most folks, even this writer, can be at times. Even after I warned him, he pushed, daring me to rat him out. So, I turned my back on him as I got off.... and here is where the arrogant punk proved he was just a bully and coward at heart. He loudly told me to "go get a haircut and shave, you hippie."
Yeah, he made his point, but when I spun and dared him to try, he had to scuttle off to the computers, probably to boast about putting a homeless guy in his place on some social media site. Me, I waited until today, thinking it over....
And here is my conclusion. Ain't it funny how everyone breaks some law, no matter how pure and righteous we all think we are? And why is it okay for one person or one group to break a law, but nobody else can do so?
Why do folks see the hippie, not that other dude, up on the walls of so many homes and churches?
You know, one thing I have learned, being homeless, I am in good company. Moses was homeless. Noah, well, I guess the ark might count as a home to some, but in my judgment, he was homeless. John the Baptist? Homeless. Joseph with that funny coat? Homeless for a while. Lot and Abraham, homeless bums like me, the former several times. Mohammed spent time homeless, that fellow I mentioned earlier about the picture hanging so many places? Trust me, the carpenter from Nazareth did his time preaching homeless.
I ain't a hippie, either. There is only one Grateful Dead song I've ever liked, and all the hippies claim that was the "sell-out" song. Don't do dope, or any drugs beyond my pipe tobacco and coffee (unless donuts and ice cream can be proven to be narcotic substances, which I personally would contest). And, unlike a true hippie, I reject commune life as ideal form of community living.
NOW, when the rest of you can obey the laws, all of them, you can criticize me for having to break laws to survive, as your society, and it is yours, not mine, seems to deem me unworthy of being a member.
Oh, and all you E-smokers? Get your lazy butts outside to smoke. Getting wet and cold is good for you, ya wussies. And if you can't take criticism about your double standards, well, I have a rope you can relieve yourselves on, just let me know when you need it suspended from some tree, no need to return it, either.
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