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As I was preparing tonight's post, dear reader, I got the news in a CNN breaking news email, "Michael Jackson has died."
Rest in Peace, King of Pop. You certainly had little enough in life...
You were an under-appreciated legend in your time.
Everyone's taking control of me,
Seems that the world's got a role for me,
I'm so confused,
Will you show to me
You'll be there for me?
And care enough to bear me?
You weren't perfect--who is? Half the things you were accused of we knew to be false, yet the media hung you out to dry anyway...
Like a comet
Blazing 'cross the evening sky,
Gone too soon...
Your music will live on, and it will leave the world a better place. Thanks for the memories, Michael, and here's hoping you are now at peace.
On a slightly lighter note, how bad must our health care system be if we can't even keep our celebrities alive? Ed McMahon, Farah Fawcett, and MJ all in one week...?
Brings new meaning to "bad things happen in three's," doesn't it?
Those of you who know us personally know one thing for certain: Our relationship started with kittens. Five kittens to be exact. After three months of eye-tag and smiles, I turned to Richard one night, looking devilishly cut and ripped in a neon-orange tank-top with khaki shorts, and said, "Would you like to come home and see my kittens?" (I later find out he could have cared less about the kittens, but if I'm completely honest with myself, at that moment, I also could have cared less...)
Along the way, Spot, Pavement, and Cleopatra all bit the dust in various ways and we remained catless until just about a week ago, when we adopted a "female" kitten named Beaux. True to form (as Spot came into my life under the very same false pretenses...), at the vet they ask, "Where's the girl kitten, Beaux?" I gestured toward the kitten being held in the arms of the nurse and said, "You mean Beaux isn't as girl?"
So Beaux is a boy. Irregardless, the reason for the sudden impromptu trip to the vet was the fact that Beaux, playing with her--his toy mouse suddenly went stiff, tipped over, vomited, and then lay lifeless. While purring. My first thought was, "Holy shit! I have a narcoleptic cat!" Then other bad signs happened. Wouldn't wake up, but continued to vomit. Spasms. More vomiting. I'm sobbing, beside myself. A kitten I've had for less than a week was suddenly dying before my eyes! A few quick calls and some google searches had me at the door of the vet's, tears streaming down my face with a kitten who suddenly changed sexes...
He has an infection somewhere in his bowels, and another day and he could have ended up a brain-damaged to dead kitty. Sigh. Of course, my third heart-attack happened when I got the emergency bill! A kitten I've had less than a week has already cost me nearly $400!
But as I watch him playing now, fighting with Hawthorne over the newest "life-like" mouse toy, I know it was worth it. Beaux is already so ingrained in Hawthorne's--and our--lives, I already have a hard time imagining how I wasn't looking where I was stepping before he arrived. I've realized how much I've missed the sound of a soft purr just over my shoulder. The pitter-patter of wobbly paws racing out from behind the corner as I walked by to attack my feet.
So our Saturday evening plans to celebrate our tenth anniversary were axed due to the extraordinary vet bill we weren't expecting...
But really, it all just makes sense. Full circle and all that. What started with kittens continues with kittens, and as we sat there Saturday evening watching a film, Hawthorne between us and Beaux taking flying leaps over his body to take turns on our laps, it all just seemed wonderfully perfect.
Or perhaps puur-fect would be more appropriate. Of course, it would take my gay relationship to be built on pussy, wouldn't it? Of course, even my pussy lacks a pussy...
Simply, wonderfully purr-fect...
I was recently told in a business exchange on eBay:
Now I know why God is directing me to pray for you!!!
How does that work exactly? How does a simple eBay transaction turn into a calling from god? Well, it's a matter of highlighting text and deleting the wrong portion--i.e., instead of deleting my auto signature (which directs you here) I deleted the text response to the query in question...
Now, don't get me wrong--the customer in question is a decent enough fellow, but this whole "god wants me to pray for you thing"--umm, isn't it god you'll be praying to? About me?
So if god already knows I need "help," as it were (if one is to assume that atheism is something in need of help), why would god want you to tell him that you now know I need help?
I'm reminded of this comic from Russel's Teapot:
Good stuff, that Russell. I do wish he were still blogging, but you really should go check out his stuff--too funny! (Clicking on pic will open it in a larger window... for those of you not reading this blog on a cell phone, dearest younger brother!)
So I guess the only thing left is to wait... :)
It's amazing to me what people will believe...
I want to kill people. I want to strangle their necks. Of course, how is this different from every day life? It's not so much, really. But when it's been 24 hours since your last cigarette...
Well, you're just more likely to kill them, that's all...
Beaux is the reason, just so you are caught up, dear reader. The price of Beaux is the cessation of cigarettes in my life. While the trade off IS a good thing, and while it WAS my idea...
Well, sometimes I don't think these things through...
Who is Beaux? Technically, her name is "Face of Beaux," named after the "Face of Boe" from Dr. Who, the FANTASTIC television series! Of course, the real face of Boe and our face of Beaux look nothing alike. After all, who would want a kitty that was just a head floating in a glass canister of smoke? Okay, well, maybe you would, but I certainly don't.
Oh, how rude of me... This is Beaux:
This is the Boe she was named after:
I'm just glad Beaux ended up being cuter than Boe!! Who needs an ugly cat?
Regardless, people need to die... I need a cigarette...
What the worst part is, I know I will not die from wanting a cigarette. No one has ever died from wanting a cigarette. Gone mad, perhaps, a bit nutsy, but died? It's the smoking that'll kill me!! And as the one half of my brain tries to explain this to the other half of my brain... Well, it's not pretty what's going on between my ears... A very nasty, very ugly fight is going on...
I've already won... Now it's just a matter of convincing my brain that we're not doing this anymore...
Sigh. Stupid habit. Even stupider for my brain thinking it needs it so...
You know, I just don't get it.
Now, don't get me wrong: I am not one of those anti-gun, anti-2nd-amendment, more-gun-control types who think everyone just needs more laws to keep people from murdering one another: Far from it! What I don't understand, though, is how these people who are fervent, verging-on-psychotic, right-wing nut-job Jesus followers are also the same types who would brandish sixteen pistols, seventeen shot guns, seven rifles and a war chest of ammo...
Or is it just me? Does anyone else see... well, something not quite right about this image?
Let's look at the facts: There is not a command that says "Never go to war," although the OT god was so much about war, you would of thought his commission on giving the so-called "holy land" to Israel was close to 90% (God, Jesus, and Ghost Realty, Inc.)! But when it comes to the new testament? You read things like "turn the other cheek"; "love your enemies"; "whatever you do to the least of these, you do to me." When Jesus was getting arrested to be put on trial (and eventually nailed up like an oil painting) and Peter cuts off the ear of the high priest, did Jesus cheer him on? Grab his sword and say, "I can take it from here, Petey"? He admonished his disciples and (supposedly) healed the priest: In Matthew he is reported to have said "Put your sword back into its place; for all who take the sword will perish by the sword..."; in Mark he is recorded to have said "No more of this!"
When the Pharisees got everyone in an uproar and they tried stoning him, did he start throwing rocks back? Grab a sword and go all jihad on their asses? No, he "passed through them" (became Casper, if you will) and walked away... When I read "Vengeance is mine sayeth the Lord," one wonders how many of these southern baptists and what-not think, as the bible is to be taken quite literally, that guns don't count--it's the sword they need to be concerned with... (Perhaps that might explain a lack of enthusiasm for the art of fencing here in the states?)
Of course, many a Christian likes to pull the old 10 Commandments out at this point: "The Bible says 'Thou shalt not MURDER,', not 'Thou shalt not kill!' so there!" (I have to be amazed that this is still the only bit of actual Hebrew most of these right-wingers have learned...) And it's true: it is "Thou shalt not murder" if one translates it correctly. But what is murder?
There are no disclaimers about self-defense not being murder. There are no asterisks (*) nearby calling attention to a footnote that reads "Except when protecting your land, crops, wife, child(ren), goats, sheep, cows, and American-made pick-up truck." If every person--let me repeat, every person--is made in god's image, and every human has an eternal soul, and you kill that human despite the NT examples set forth by your man-god...
What makes your life more important than the robber or murderer? Sure, you can justify it til the cows come home (or at least reasonably close to home), but can you find me the disclaimer? The one that reads "if your life is in imminent danger, you are no longer committing murder, you are simply killing"?
If one looks at the entirety of the new testament, the portion of the bible we are supposedly living under, show me where violence on the part of a follower of Jesus is condoned or otherwise not frowned upon...?
And remember context: The "sword" in the new testament? Always is a metaphor--it is never once referred to as an actual physical weapon to be used by a follower of Jesus...
But that's probably only because shot guns hadn't been invented yet... And Rome must have had sword-control laws in place... So now we have to ask, who would Jesus have shot? Anyone? Anyone?
Me: Definitely black.
Rich: Uh...
Me: Just think about it...
Rich: I am, and... The ceiling?
Me: With maple beams and recessed lighting...
Rich: It seems so--morbid.
Me: It’s not like I’m moving a coffin in!
Rich: May as well...
Yes, dear reader, you know the routine by now, do you not? We’re painting another room--our room, this time. Two walls have gone redwood, two walls camel tan. The hardwood floors are a golden maple, and there are two rather nice-size windows with matching golden maple trim--it’s going to be a classy mod look with a hint of rustic, if you can catch my vibe here...
Rich: And track lighting is so.... So...
Me: 1983?
Rich: Yeah, sounds about right.
Me: Who mentioned track lighting?
Rich: You did!
Me: Recessed lighting, not track lighting. This isn’t an art gallery, it’s a bedroom!
Rich: It’s a morgue.
Me: Yes, yes, that’s the look I’m going for. I thought it’s be a nice change from what everyone else does with their bedrooms. Very TrueBlood meets Betty Crocker.
Rich: Ha-ha, very funny.
Me: Look, does the rest of what I’ve done look good?
Rich: (Shrugs.) Yeah, it does.
Me: Okay then, have a little more faith, okay?
Rich: Seems I have no choice. I’ll pick out a suit to wear while I lay in state every night.
Me: Yes, and I’ll check your teeth for lipstick.
I was accosted in Wal-Mart today. There I was, between the pharmacy and the pet section, minding my own beeswax as I pondered over what the best way was to construct a fency-type trellis to keep my gladiolas from falling over once they bloom. (I know, to have my problems, right?) So as I'm standing there mulling over new and inventive ways to use towel racks, I feel a tap on my shoulder from behind. I turn around, ready to proclaim my "No, I don't work here" line (am I the only one in the world who gets asked by random people in Wal-Mart where things are located? I must have "a look" or something) when a couple of little old ladies say:
Old Lady #1: You're that young man who had the yard sale last weekend, right?
Me: Um, yes, over on Rt 895, yeah?
Old Lady #2: Well, my friend here and I were having a very heated disagreement ever since we left your yard sale last week and were wondering if we could run our problem by you?
Old Lady #1: That would be nice if you could...
Me: Um, sure, I guess. A problem with something you bought from me?
Old Lady #1: Oh, no, no--
Old Lady #2: Nothing like that--
Old Lady #1: Why I wouldn't dream of returning--
Old Lady #2: It's just that--
Old Lady #1: --something I bought at a yard sale--
Old Lady #2: --when we left--
Me: (Am I in hell?)
Old Lady #1: --even if it was broken or something--
Old Lady #2: --we fought a bit and almost--
Old Lady #1: --which it wasn't, no worries--
Old Lady #2: --turned around...
Old Lady #1: --but I was thinking--
Old Lady #2: --Frita, please!
Me: (Yep, hell... In Wal-Mart... Who knew?)
Frita: --what?
Bernice: Let me handle this, all right? We were just wondering if you two gentlemen were...
Frita:Put it delicately, Bernice!
Bernice: Oh, shush. Well, are you gentlemen--together?
Me: (Danger, Will Robinson, Danger!) Uhh...
Bernice: Not that it matters--
Frita:--so cute together--
Bernice: --as my daughter is actually--
Frita: --just the way you two--
Bernice: --maybe you know her?--
Frita: --sat there, so happy together--
Bernice: --what's the name of that gay place?--
Me: (I should always know where the fire exits are, shouldn't I?)
Frita: --as I was saying to Bernice--
Bernice: --Emeralds? Rubies? No, that's a burger chain--
Frita: --I think it's so nice--
Bernice: --Diamonds! That's it! Do you go there?--
Frita: --and complimented her on her tank top--
Bernice: --that was the biggest clue, wasn't it, Frita?--
Me: Uh, well, yes, we are "a couple," ten years now...
Bernice: I told you, Frita!
Frita: Yes, yes you did...
Bernice: Well, we just wanted to tell you gentlemen good for you!
Frita: Yes, very much so!
Bernice: And in this area!
Frita: It's so sad...
Bernice: And that California thing? Shameful!
Frita: We should let him finish his shopping...
Bernice: Yes, we've bothered you enough, but, well, good for you!
Frita: You have our support!
Me: Uh, thank you, ladies. You have a nice day, now...
Bernice: So polite!
Frita: Real gentlemen...
So that, ladies and gentlemen, is what I imagine a celebrity must feel like. Even if it was just for a few moment... In a Wal-Mart...
But... No one even mentioned it! you're thinking...
Visiting Scientist: Surely you don't believe that horseshoe will bring you good luck, do you, Professor Bohr?
Bohr: I believe no such thing, my good friend. Not at all. I am scarcely likely to believe in such foolish nonsense. However, I am told that a horseshoe will bring you good luck whether you believe in it or not! How can one argue with such logic?
Indeed, it's much like the "What harm does it do to believe in God?" (Ask the last group that drank the Kool-Aid...) For the record, Bohr is a Nobel Prize-winning physicist, but there he is, with a freakin' horseshoe hanging on the wall over his desk. And why? Even he isn't sure...
We humans are a generally stupid species, for all of our technological innovations and such--perhaps our one saving grace (perpetual curse?) being we are just smart enough to know how stupid we are without being quite smart enough to know how to not be so stupid. Why, for instance, do we knock on wood? Call off on Friday the 13th? Expect people to act just a tad crazier under a full moon? Worship gods? Pray to angels?
Did you know that, while wearing a seat belt has been known to save more lives in the drivers' seat of a moving vehicle, the number of pedestrians and cyclists who die increases in areas where seat-belt wearing is mandatory? Honestly! Any lives "saved" through the use of seat belts has been negated by the fact that, since the drivers feel more secure in the automobile, they in fact drive more recklessly than they had previous to being forced to wear such a safety device! But so many people believe that seat belts save lives that we thus made a law saying you must wear one, even though as a result more people will now die--just on the other side of the wheel... Gotta love the irony there.
Remember back in the 80s when we were all told that heavy rock music stars actually recorded Satan speaking backwards on their records? (How many of you just wondered what the heck a "record" was?) People by the hundreds threw out thousands of dollars worth of albums so that their children wouldn't be influenced by the evil Satanic speech coming from their record players (as if!!). Most of these songs you can now hear on any commercial-filled yet Satan-free "classic rock" or "easy listening" station.
Now, somewhere between the unreasonable panic over swine flu and the even more unreasonable panic over the thought of terrorists using a cargo container to sneak in a nuclear bomb (as if...), one wonders how the term "common sense" ever came to be coined when it's obvious so many people lack the very stuff. (Perhaps "common sense" is just one of those mythical things, like demons, gremlins, and luck dragons...? Often mentioned, never seen...?) Yet for sense to be "common" (in that, every one is supposed to have it), one has to simply observe how many buildings do NOT have a 13th floor; how many people refuse to go to work on Friday the 13th; how many actually stop and change their path to avoid going under the ladder (I actually think a painter made this one up just to prevent himself from getting nervous up there watching all those doofs go under him!). What is it about irrational and illogical beliefs that so many refuse to give them up?
Could it all actually be for shits and giggles? Somehow I doubt this...
Most people know the principle that any action causes an equal and opposite reaction. (Okay,maybe you don't, just google it and it's won't be long til you're all caught up.) We step on a loose rock and lose our balance, we quickly form quite a few beliefs:- Falling hurts
- Loose rocks cause falling
- Loose rocks are dangerous
- Loose rocks are to be avoided whenever possible
But, before you know it, all things "loose" are suspect. Of course, this is a very logical conclusion to come to, not only because of your experience, but it's rationally sound. Loose footing = falling down = pain. It's not that hard, is it?
But then think about "Break a leg!" To wish an actor or performer "Good luck!" is to jinx them--why? Because somewhere along the way, a few to many people were wished "good luck" before their performance and proceeded bomb in front of an audience. There's no direct correlation between these spoken words of "good luck" and bombing your rendition of "Baby Got Back!" (one wonders how many contestants on American Idol have been inadvertently wished "good luck" before Simon ripped their hearts out with a toothpick). But our minds do make that correlation for no good reason. It's illogical, irrational, very unsound, and if you based your thesis for graduating on such a premise, they'd revoke your right to say anything at all about anything afterward! We silly, stupid humans do this sort of thing all the time!
How many of us know rationally that knocking on wood doesn't do anything, yet, once we say something out loud, there go our knuckles, banging out a River Dance of the fingers! We know that those random numbers we picked at 2:00 pm are just as unlikely to be winners at 8:55 pm, yet we are 90 percent more likely to be unwilling to trade our lottery ticket for another ticket of equally random, equally chance of winning numbers at 8:55 then we were at 2:00... Why? Who knows... Because we're stupid. We believe prayer actually does something... We believe standing in the rain causes a cold... We believe all sorts of crazy, stupid things...
With a little luck, here's hoping this post causes you all to stop and think before you start knuckling out the Star Spangled Banner...
As if "luck" has anything to do with it...
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We are a curious creature, are we not? I do believe we are the only ones that can actually think about ourselves while simultaneously thinking about thinking about ourselves...
But that's a philosophical dead-end... At the moment...
Oddly, most of the things that form who we are as people are locked in the recesses of our minds, the formative years in which most us (if not all of us) cannot recall nor think about or ponder on--between the merging of our genes from our biological parents to the nurturing we receive in the beginning (not to sound all biblical about it!) make us who we are, and in turn bias us toward a lot of our later actions, desires, motivations, fears, worries, and wonders. Not that these cannot change through either further outside or inner factors (a death, an injury, the continuation of "nurture" in a sense), but most of us experience a relative "freedom" from the most cruel and unusual of circumstances, allowing us to mostly remain the core human being we became at conception through young childhood. (Granted, these are my opinions and feel free to disagree, of course, but from all I've seen and read and thought over, this mostly holds true...)
Anyway, back to it: The other evening, I was out having a great evening and it was said to (and about) me, "He avoids adversity. The only adversity he's ever had was the military!" Regardless of the emotions this elicited from my mind, it did begin my mind turning and thinking: Isn't "adversity" really open to interpretation? I mean, not only is one man's adversity another man's walk in the park, so to speak, but the term itself tends to open-ended gradation, doesn't it? I mean, what is adversity? And who is to decide how much is "too little" or "too much" adversity for one person to bear? And further, is an avoidance of adversity a sign of cowardice, or a sign of intelligent avoidance? Again, it's probably in the eye of the beholder sitting in judgment of another, isn't it?
My mother is very fond of saying "God never gives anyone more than they can bear." Of course, if that were true, no one would ever go crazy or insane in traumatic times, would they? Of course, she is also fond of saying "Everything happens for a reason," as if reasons were the end-all be-all of our existence.
Or are they? One of the first things we learn as children is to ask "Why?" Why indeed! "Why is the sky blue?" "Why can't I go there?" "Why did you say that?" All in an attempt to find out where we are, and how we fit into that picture, our environment. While many a child has driven their parents up one wall and down the other with the endless queries, these are the times and the questions which form the later human being (if indeed circumstances even lend themselves for a child to ask about who it is and why it's there...!). All of which will eventually lend itself to how these young persons will react (or act) in the face of "adversity" of whichever degree presents itself (in terms of one's perceptions of adversity and its varying degrees that individual thereof holds!).
If any given person takes the time to reflect on what they do or don't find to be adverse, that is. How many persons take the time (perhaps we should ask, have the time? make the time?) to not only think about things in general, but themselves in particular? Why they feel this way about this? That way about that? A certain reaction to this person or that circumstance?
A certain general attitude?
I'm a big "believer" in you are who you think you are (scare quotes on purpose--know why?) and an even bigger "believer" in that only you can make that happen. But beyond that (and this may get a bit dodgy, I suppose) I find it even more important to let others be themselves, if you catch my meaning. To say it slightly longer and a bit clearer (I hope!), just as it is important to know yourself and hopefully to like yourself, I believe it just only slightly less important (perhaps equally as important) to let others be themselves insofar as it is not an infringement on others (or yourself). A large part of who you are is how you react and engage with others in your environment, both from within and without!
Of course, this greatly simplified philosophical excursion has smaller parts and larger ramifications (what wandering wonderings don't!) but to slightly sum up (without getting into the personal details--after all, I have to retain some type of mystery or else you'll grow bored and find someone younger!) when it comes to one's proclivities toward engaging, avoiding, embracing, or dealing with "adversity," can one really say for certain who is dealing with them and how they are fairing?
Or should we simply reserve our harshest judgments for ourselves and allow others to lead their lives in whatever manner makes them content?
Should contentment even be one of our goals in life?
Okay, this could go on forever, granted. Suffice it to say this:
There is always a well-known solution to every human problem--neat, plausible, and wrong. --H.L. Mencken, Prejudices
Indeed. But the beginning of finding a solution that isn't wrong?
Know thyself.
The rest should fall into place...
Unless you find out you aren't any good at it... :D
I awoke this morning to a note sitting on the computer desk:
Ja,
They can play with the guns.
Rich
I guess I should give some back story on this one, eh?
We took the nephews to see the new Star Trek movie last night, and between the four bags of popcorn, three sodas, and three bathroom breaks, we learned a lot as uncles taking young nephews to the movies, the first of which being "no soda!" Additionally, since Rich and I are selling things on eBay, there are various toys and such laying about the house, much to the joy of said nephews and fear of one certain uncle--after all, most of these toys are older than myself and worth a bunch of $$$...
So they were toy guns... Nonetheless, a strange note to wake up to, wouldn't you say?
When the parents of the nephew's came to collect their children, me and the sis-in-law took a tour of the yard to locate various plants to boost their flower beds back home. In the course of our travels, the neighbors... unfortunately were in full force. I swear to god, it's like they spot me and they come rushing out of the woodwork--it's HELL! Even Ann commented, "Dude, what's up with your neighbors?"
Well said, if I do say so myself... All this time I thought it was just me...
One of these hellish neighbors had the gall--no, the audacity!!!--to walk through my FLOWER BED! I nearly had a heart attack... Excuse me?! What the FUCK do you THINK you're DOING!! I wanted to scream. These people KNOW the pride I take, the care I put in, the immense work it requires to get these beds looking weed-free and blooming year-round! What the FUCK!!!
But being that I have various hang-ups of confrontation stemming from my childhood, I simply downplayed it with a simple, "You didn't step on anything, did you?" (As if that were the sole reason for my heart palpitations...)
"No, why would I do that?" came the reply.
Why the FUCK would you WALK through some one's fucking FLOWER BED!!!! "Just checking" and a friendly smile later (Where is my Grammy award, by the way?) we left her behind as we continued our circuitous route around the house. Two more neighbors later and the family was on their way to plant some great beauties in the yard while I was left contemplating how I would confront my stupid, unemployed, bored-out-of-her-mind neighbor about walking through the beds when they are just as easy to get around if one simply goes six feet to the LEFT. On the GRASS. In the fucking YARD!!!
It also crossed my mind what a shame it was that I did only have toy guns lying about the property. What is up with my neighbors indeed...
If I could afford it, a ten-foot-high privacy fence would enshroud my 3/4's of an acre. But until the blessed day when we sell this place and get a secluded neighborless piece of land on which to build my dream house...
Sometimes in the end, no one dies...
But they should...
As I was preparing tonight's post, dear reader, I got the news in a CNN breaking news email, "Michael Jackson has died."
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